Page 58 of Undying
His body is cool to the touch, and I wait to feel repulsed.
Wait for flashbacks of sleeping amongst the corpses.
Only they don’t come.
A wave of peacefulness seeps into me at his nearness, like I know he would give his life to protect me. It’s an odd sensation, one that I haven’t felt since my parents died almost a decade ago. Wanting to know more about him, I play with the edges of his button-down shirt. “How did you become a vampire?”
His grip tightens, his body going stiff, and a ping of disappointment goes through me. I almost expect him to pull away. Instead, he gingerly wraps his arm around me, and I can’t resist the urge to snuggle closer.
“I was turned over sixty years ago. In vampire years, that’s relatively young. I remember the end of World War II, the age of change and innovation. I listened to the first radios and witnessed the invention of color televisions. I grew up in an age when men took pride in themselves and always acted honorably toward others. We honored our parents, went to church every Sunday, wore suits every day, and treated our women with respect.”
He pauses, sweeping his fingers absently up and down my arm, raising goose bumps along the way. When he speaks again, his voice is raspier, his tone darker. “The few vampires that went to war fed off the injured and weak. They became bold. So many people left to fight that it was a struggle for a few of the vampires who remained behind to find food. They became desperate, feeding almost like wild animals. It was a recipe for disaster.”
He pulls me closer, his chin coming to rest on the top of my head so I can’t look up at him, and I know I’m not going to like what comes next. “It was the age of sock hops, greasers versus squares, poodle skirts versus leather jackets. An age of rebellion. Teens went wild.”
I smile at the idea of him being wild, unable to picture the reserved vampire as anything but calm and collected.
He chuckles, as if sensing my amusement. “As you’ve guessed, I was a total square. Ah…a nerd is what you would call it.”
“Oh my gosh, did you have a pocket protector?” I twist my head up to look at him, picturing him wearing one in a totally adorkable way.
Amusement twinkles in his eyes, and he gives me a superior, snooty grin. “Of course. All the cool people wore them. It was a badge of honor. Now hush, and let me finish my story.”
Sensing he feels more at ease when I’m not looking at him, I resume my spot and rest my head back against his chest. I wait patiently, my hand settling over his heart once more, and offer him what comfort I can.
“It was dark out, and I was hurrying home from my job. I was running late, so I took a shortcut.” His voice drops to a whisper as he sinks into the past. “I was cutting between two derelict buildings when I heard a girl cry out in distress, and I went to investigate. It’s obvious now that it was a trap. I found four men pushing and shoving a young girl. When she fell to the ground, I barged my way between them and came to her rescue.
“I waited for the men to attack. I knew I was going to get the beating of my life, but I was raised to protect women. But instead of attacking, the men laughed and stood back.”
A sinking sensation fills my chest. “The girl.”
He gives a bitter chuckle. “You caught on a lot quicker than I did. The danger wasn’t in front of me, but behind me. Before I could even turn to check on the girl, she leaped on my back and sank her fangs into my neck.”
A heavy, oppressive silence settles in the air, and my lungs become tighter with each breath I take. Just when I think he’s done speaking, he finally continues. “They kept me around for weeks, locked away, feeding me like a pet. All my defiance was beaten out of me pretty quickly. The girl became obsessed with my submission. She loved dominating me, making me obey her every wish. I tried to fight her, but I became conditioned by the abuse. She eventually decided she wanted to keep me.
“My transition was brutal. They withheld blood from me until I was nothing more than a feral creature…then released me. For the first few months, I slaughtered whatever human I could find. I was nothing more than a feral pet kept on their leash.” He spat out the words, disgust thickening his voice. “Any rational thoughts I had were very few and far between.
“Their abuse ultimately became their downfall.” Dark satisfaction fills his voice. “The deaths eventually brought Stanton down on them. I expected to be killed outright, but he took me under his wing and rehabilitated me…”
He trails off, a tinge of wonder lingering, even after all this time.
Like he didn’t think he was worthy of being saved.
Nausea churns in my gut at the abuse he suffered, and I feel like a monster for pinning him to the wall not too long ago. No wonder he went limp in my arms. I must have triggered him. “I’m so sorry that I pinned you—”
“Don’t.” He tightens his grip, avoiding my eyes, and I’d swear a little purr emerges from his chest. A tiny bit of color deepens his cheeks as he clears his throat. “I…er…um…kind of liked it.”
His shame tinges the air, the bitterness sharp on my tongue, and I actually ache with the need to soothe him. A tiny purr vibrates in my own chest, and embarrassment heats my cheek. Before I can pull away, he practically melts into me and cuddles me closer.
His gaze flashes toward mine out of the corner of his eyes, almost like he’s afraid of what he’ll see. If he thought I would be repulsed, he’s mistaken. Instead, I’m curious and more than a little turned on at the idea of being able to restrain him and touch him without fear.
I blush when my arousal fills the air. When I would’ve pulled away, he tightens his hold. “You’re fucking perfect,” he says, giving me a tiny, shy smile, then kisses the top of my head. “Sleep. The sun is up. We can talk more tomorrow.”
He barely finishes before his eyes flutter closed, and he’s just…gone.
Panic slams into me hard and fast. I push myself upright, and my throat tightens when his arms fall away. With tears stinging the back of my eyes, I press my forehead against his chest.
No heartbeat.
