“So, I’ve been thinking,” he says as he turns the pieces of bacon over with a fork and the grease in the pan sizzles. “About your emotions and or should I say lack of emotions.”
I inch the stool forward and the legs scrape against the tile. “Okay, what about them?”
He twists the knob on the stove, adjusting the temperature of the burner. “I’m thinking that sounds an awful lot like magic.”
“Magic?” I prop my elbows onto the countertop and rest my chin on top of my overlapping hands. “Like Wicca magic? Or like black magic?”
He grabs a plate from the cupboard. “It could be either, really, or something else entirely different from Wicca magic. There’s a ton of things that can wipe out a person’s ability to feel.”
“Wait, you think they wiped out my emotions?”
“It’s possible.” He scoops up a spoon full of eggs and piles them on a plate. “In fact, it makes a lot of sense. I mean, I knew you when you were a kid and you were fine then; happy, healthy and kind of bossy.” He flashes me a grin.
“I wish I could remember you,” I say as he slides the plate of eggs across the counter. “It kind of seems weird that I don’t.”
“That could be because of your emotions.” He turns off the stove and grabs a rag that sits next to the sink. “I mean, think about it. You were emotionally detached from life—from everything, right? And emotions play a huge part in why people remember things.”
“I guess that makes sense.” I take a bite of eggs and they taste delicious. “But maybe, that could come from magic, too?”
“Good point.” He finishes cooking the rest of the food. “But the question is, why? I mean, I know it’s supposed to be because of the star, but what if it’s because of something else.”
I choke on my eggs. “You think I was made emotionally numb for another reason?”
He sets a pan in the sink and turns on the faucet. “Gemma, at this point, I have no idea what’s going on. I’ve spent three years in the dark, never hearing a word from any of the Keepers.” He speaks loudly over the running water. “And then Alex and Aislin show up with you and say that the Death Walkers suddenly found you after years of you going undetected.”
Strangely, he’s making sense. What if there’s more? Why have I just assumed that the story Alex told me was the correct story?
He turns off the water and begins piling French toast, pancakes, and bacon onto the plate. When he’s done, he sets the plates on the counter in front of me. Then he hops onto the counter and watches me as I eat.
“You’re not eating any?” I ask, pouring syrup over a few slices of French toast.
He shakes his head. “I don’t eat food.”
“What… oh.” I feel so stupid. Of course he doesn’t. He’s a vampire. I point my finger at him and click my tongue. “Gotcha.” I dig into my food, struggling not to act too uneasy at the fact that he seems to be fascinated by my chewing.
“So what do you eat?” I break the silence.
He shrugs. “Nothing, usually. I’ll eat food sometimes when I’m bored, but it’s never out of hunger.”
I drag the fork across the eggs, deliberating. “Laylen, can I ask you a question?”
“You can ask me anything.”
“Anything?” I ask and he nods again. I take a bite of the eggs and chew. “How exactly did you get turned into a vampire?”
His face contorts with confusion. “I can’t remember.”
“Is that how it normally works when a person goes through the change, or whatever you call it?”
“It’s called the transition.” He hops off the counter and strolls around the island toward me. “And no, something else caused the memory loss.” He pulls out a stool and sits down beside me. “The only thing I can remember about that night is coming out of a club and hearing someone come up behind me. When I turned around, everything went black. When I woke, I had a bite mark on my neck and blood all over me.” He holds up his arm and tracks a finger along the Greek symbols that are on his forearm. “And, of course, I had this lovely little thing right here.”
“Was it hard to deal with?” I set the fork down on my plate and rotate in the stool so I’m facing him and our knees are touching. “I mean, changing like that? It had to be hard.”
He nods. “My Keeper’s blood helps me control my cravings for blood, but it doesn’t mean they’re nonexistent.”
“So, you’ve never bit anyone—ever?”
He scratches at his wrist and shifts uncomfortably. “I didn’t say that.”
My heart skips a beat. “So, you have.”
He stares at the wall in front of us. “I’ve had a few slipups, but I never killed anyone.”
“Do they… Do you…” I have no idea why I’m asking the question, only that I’m curious and need—and I mean need—to know. “How does it feel?”
His eyebrows shoot upward as his head whips in my direction. “How does it feel when I bite someone?”
I nod. “And how does it feel for them?”
“Why are you asking?” he asks me inquisitively.
I decide to be honest. “Curiosity, and the fact that I can’t seem to keep my damn mouth shut.”
His lips tug up to a miniscule smile. “You really want me to tell you how it feels to sink my teeth into another person’s neck?” I start to apologize because I think he’s upset, when he leans forward. “How it feels to suck hot blood out of someone’s vein?” I swallow hard at the animalistic look in his eyes as he dips his head toward my face. “How it feels to hold someone in my arms, knowing I can do anything to them?” His voice purrs across my skin. He puts a hand on each side of me, slants his body and moves closer. “You really want to know, Gemma?” He breathes on my neck and I choke.
“I don’t… I don’t…” I trail off as his lips brush against my skin and my eyelids shut on their own accord.
“What if I told you it was terrible?” he whispers against my neck. “Would you run?”
“I don’t know…” I begin to fall backwards on the stool and grab ahold of the edge of the counter.
“What if I told you it felt mind-numbingly good?” He kisses my neck and my shoulder shudders into him. “Would you let me bite you?”
My mind has melted into wax and air has gotten trapped in my lungs. “Would you bite me, if I said yes?”
“What do you think?” His lips part and I feel his teeth nick my skin. I don’t move because I want to know. I want to stay right here.
As I’m entirely letting go to my curiosity and my body’s need for an answer, his tongue slides out and he licks me like a dog. My eyes snap open as he pulls away and there’s a huge smile on his face.
“I would never bite you, sweetheart,” he says with humor in his eyes. “You’re too innocent and pure and that makes for a bad addiction.” When I pout, he touches his finger to my bottom lip. “And besides, I’d never be able to forgive myself if I bit you.” I let my lip return to its rightful place as he gets up from the stool and makes his way to the window. “And I’m not a fan of feeding. I’ve only done it a few times and it makes me feel guilty afterwards.” He draws back the curtain and lets the sunlight inside. “So, what do you want to do next—”
The window explodes, sending shards of glass through the air, like deadly raindrops. Laylen ducks down as a wave of ice rushes through the broken window and curves down to the floor. It slithers towards my feet and spirals up and attaches to the ceiling, forming thick beams.
“Laylen!” I jump from the stool and it topples over. “Are you okay?”
As I round the corner of the island, he stands up. My brain barely registers his movements as he races over to me at an inhuman speed and grabs my hand. The next thing I know, we’re racing down the hallway and the ice is chasing us.
“What the hell was that?” I pant as I force my legs to take longer strides.
“Death Walkers.” He veers us to the right as one of the rooms’ doors blows from the hinges and flies towards our heads. The rest of the doors follow and he hunkers down, pulling me down with him. He shields my head with his arm and glances up and down the hall. “I have no idea how they f**king found us.”
Ice crawls across the floor, along the ceilings and glazes the walls. Snow whirls in the air as the house begins to crack down the center of the floor. It’s petrifyingly cold and I have flashbacks to the night in the woods, being chased, watching the Death Walkers take out the cabin with their ice.
My heart hammers in my chest as I tuck my head into his shoulder. “What do we do?”
His chin brushes the top of my head as he turns his head from left to right. “Come on. Follow me. And keep your head down.”
He moves his body away from mine and keeps his head low as he gets down on his hands and knees, crawling toward the front door. I follow; the ice on the floor burns against my palms and the wintery cold air crisps my eyelashes. Beams are forming in bulks, creating a jail cell with no way out.
I continue to follow Laylen, sliding from left to right out of the beams, but fog starts to seep through the open doors and windows, filling up the entire house. Before I know it, I can’t see a damn thing.
“Laylen?” I cough against the plunging temperature in the air. “Laylen, where are you?” He doesn’t answer. “Laylen, please.”
The dead silence is terrifying, but I try not to panic. I crawl on my hands and knees until I find my way into a room that’s clear from the murky fog. I jump to my feet and remove the knife from my back pocket; noting the blue tint of my skin and the tremble and tightness of my frozen limbs. The fog is getting to me and I need to move fast before I get hypothermia.