Once Bitten

When he gestured that the water was ready, I started unwrapping the torn curtain I'd gathered around myself like a tattered velvet toga, but I hesitated before dropping it to the ground. I'd never been shy about nudity before, but I suddenly felt uncomfortable at the thought of stepping into the shower naked in front of Nathanial. My instincts were clearly on the fritz. Of course, I didn't want him around, clothed or not.

"Can I get a little privacy here?"

"I have seen your body before."

As if on its own accord, my hand shot out and slapped him. Despite the fact he deserved it, I felt more surprised than he looked. Without my hand holding it up, the curtain fell to my ankles, but I wasn't feeling shy anymore—just pissed. My instincts were so broken, and apparently they were in a permanent bad mood. And why shouldn't they be? I was. It had been a bad couple of days. Looking away from Nathanial, I stepped under the showerhead and pulled the frosted-glass door closed hard enough it rattled.

There was gel soap, a real sponge, shampoo, and conditioner on a little, inset, wall rack in the shower. I popped open the bottles, smelling the liquids inside. They were all scents I'd smelled on Nathanial's skin. The sponge was wet. That hypocrite, telling me not to worry about bathing, when he obviously did.

I didn't hear Nathanial leave, but by the time I finished washing, the bathroom was empty. A fluffy towel had been left on the rack. I dried off, ringing my hair out on the tiles before toweling it as dry as I could. The curtain was now absent, but my clothes were piled by the door. I dressed quickly. Showering hadn't made me feel any better, just damp. Next time, I would insist on a bath.

I found Nathanial reading in the same chair as earlier. He looked up as I entered the room, but I stopped dead in my tracks when I noticed his hand idly scratching the massive dog's ears. I backed up a step, my fingers curling around the door jamb. My next breath was too loud as it trembled out.

Nathanial frowned at me. “Do not mind Regan. He is a big baby."

"Sure. Can we go, now?"

Nathanial nodded, but the frown deepened around his mouth. As he stood, the dog moved with him, and the wood molding under my bloodless fingers cracked. Nathanial made a small motion with his hand, and the dog sat again. Regan didn't move as I backed out of the room. Nathanial grabbed my coat from where it hung on the arm of the chair then walked out of the room without a word. He left the door ajar as he turned away from it.

He held out my coat in a peculiar fashion, which, I realized, was meant to help me get into it. Reluctantly, I accepted his assistance. It was too small a thing to fight over, and besides, I was cold. He slipped into his own coat, a grey duster similar to mine, except that his rustled as he pulled it closed over his dress clothes.

Without a word, he strolled to the end of the windowless hall and unlocked a door secured with two deadbolts. The door opened slowly; the slurp of breaking suction sounding as it separated from the frame. Nathanial gave me no time to examine the plastic seals, but herded me into another hallway and through a pair of wooden swinging doors.

I paused just beyond the doors and gaped at the giant kitchen. There was enough counter space and gleaming chrome appliances for any busy homemaker's wet dream. The massive birch table in the center of the room would fit at least eight, though it only had four places set around it, one with an empty drinking glass and the chair knocked crooked like it had recently been vacated. A bay window dominated one corner; its cushioned seats the perfect place to curl up on a sunny afternoon. A pale, blue teapot sat on the back burner of the stove, matching oven mitts hanging on the wall beside it. The room didn't fit Nathanial at all, especially compared to the dark wood and black furnishing in the back of the house. Not to mention the fact he couldn't eat food. Of course, I'd been assuming Nathanial lived alone. For all I knew, he might keep blood donors around like his own private harem. Gil had said Nathanial only fed from criminals. It didn't seem likely they'd make a great harem, but she'd been wrong on other things.

Dying with curiosity—no pun intended—I opened the fridge and peeked inside: crackers, peanut butter, and a box of cereal. Nope, no humans lived here, not with a selection like that. Okay, first of all, who stored cereal in the fridge? The cereal was expired. How often did that happen? Cereal was always stamped as edible for years in the future. I closed the door and turned to face the room again.

It was all a lie. The plates and silverware carefully arranged in the drying rack, the herbs sprouting from terra cotta pots in the window over the sink, even the delivery flyers stuck to the fridge with magnets, all of them were just decorative props. Nathanial watched me with an amused expression, but when I frowned at him, the amusement faded into a neutral mask.

"Come on.” He held out a hand.

I didn't take it, but I did follow him out of the fake kitchen and onto the porch. My eyes followed the glistening plain of snow in the darkness to where the tree line of a forest broke it in the distance. We were so not in the city anymore. The porch was cleared of snow down to the second step, and I looked around for a path or a driveway. Zilch. There was evidence of two people trudging through the snow and around the side of the house. I started down the steps, but Nathanial touched my shoulder and shook his head.

I pointed to the tracks in the snow. “Isn't your car this way?"

"I do not own a car. Those are from humans employed by Mama Neda. I brought you here the other night, before I accidentally took too much blood from you. Mama Neda was able to explain how to stabilize you over the phone, but we had to be transported back to Haven after the sun rose, for her to show me how to finish turning you."

"You said daylight would kill us."

"Yes. We need wood, stone, or earth between us and the sun."

I stared at the tracks in the snow. Then how did we travel ... my mind flashed back to every bad vampire movie I'd ever seen. “You took me to Mama Neda's in a coffin?"

He nodded. “Mama Neda owns a funeral home. She uses it as a front for a daytime transport service for vampires."

"I don't have to sleep in a coffin from now on, do I?"

"Did you wake up in one?” He waited, and I shook my head. “Now, you need to trust me."

That was something I wasn't willing to do, and I'd have thought him smart enough to realize it. When he reached for me, I took a step back.

He let his arms drop and sighed. “I need you to wrap your arms around my shoulders."

"Why?” I took another step back, bumping into the railing. A clump of snow fell to the ground with a wet thump.

"To meet Bobby and Gil on time, we need to leave now."

I stared at him like he was speaking Greek.

He continued, “We are going to fly, Kita. I need to carry you."

I shook my head.

He sighed. “It is the quickest way to Haven. Walking there would take until dawn."

"Eventually I'm going to wake up, curled in a fluffy ball, basking in a pool of sunlight, and discover this is all a nightmare."

"Not likely. Now come here. I promise not to bite this time."

I caught my hand before it slapped him again. Stupid vampire. But I needed to get back to Haven. I wasn't going to learn anything about the rogue out here in the wilderness. With a resolute sigh, I crept closer. Fly? Had he really said fly? If for no reason more than curiosity's sake, I would see this one through. After all, who didn't want to know what it was like to fly?

I placed my hands on his shoulders, his scent wrapping around me before his arms. He didn't smell of cinnamon and cotton like last night, but some spicy scent I couldn't quite identify. The familiarity of that scent, like something I'd always known but forgot, called to me. Was this his real scent?

I had the urge to explore his body and sniff out what was shower products and what was the deliciously masculine scent underneath them. His arms circled around my waist, drawing me closer. My cheek pressed into his chest, and I tried to push away, but my feet weren't on the ground. Wind roared around me, my coat slapping against my ankles. I clung to his shoulders.

Below us, the ground fell away and rushed by at an unbelievable speed—first in large plains of empty snow, occasionally broken by small forests of trees, then by dots of isolated houses, then obvious suburban areas. Finally we soared above the city. We slowed, the city lights blinking by less quickly. The black-tar roofs and concrete buildings far below looked like pieces of a maze designed for rats, and I wondered how Nathanial, or even birds, could navigate from up here.

Our progress continued to slow, until we stopped and hung suspended in the air, then the ground leapt toward us. I squeezed my eyes shut, clinging tight to Nathanial. Through the wind buffeting my ears, I heard him chuckle as his finger drew small circles along my back. I expected the wild descent to stop with a jolt, like the snap of a rubber band, but one minute the hem of my coat was swirling around my shoulders, and the next Nathanial made a movement like stepping down off a last stair, and the ground was under my feet. I pushed away from him, breathing hard as my coat hem resettled around my ankles.

"That was amazing. Can I fly, too?” Maybe being a vampire actually had some perks.

Nathanial smiled, his fingers moving to smooth my hair. “Not yet. If you learn how, it will be after you are older and stronger."

I frowned at him and turned away, which he took as an invitation to continue finger-combing my hair. His own hair was secured in a low ponytail and covered from the wind by his coat. I'd have to remember that next time. Next time? Over the years I'd learned not to expect anything out of the future I couldn't provide myself, but my guts told me I would fly with Nathanial again. His fingers followed my hair down the curve of my spine, a shiver crawled across my flesh. I stepped away, jerking handfuls of my hair over my shoulder. Pulling at the tangles, I tried to figure out where we were.

"The bookstore is that way.” Nathanial pointed to the left. “But you need to feed first."

"Not happening.” I didn't wait for him to protest, but joined the crowd on the sidewalk. Being among a crowd of humans kept hunters from pulling me off the street, and I was willing to bet the same would prevent Nathanial from forcing me to chomp on someone's neck.