16. Xander

Saturday finally arrived, bringing with it thick, dark clouds and buckets of rain. The grounds, unkempt and overgrown as ever, were a sight to behold in the dim, dreary spring storm.

I’d wanted to go outside and work, but the fear of getting too caught up in my activities and staying out past the cover of the night kept me paralyzed, resorting to simply staring out the window as the hours dragged by. The house was a picture to look at inside, at least, and Luke would be impressed no matter what I did.

I had received his letter back to me on Thursday, having reread it at least a dozen times by the weekend. I had never been this intrigued by a human before. It was a new experience for me, which was increasingly rare the longer I existed.

It took every ounce of strength I possessed to not snatch Luke up when he walked into the entryway. I desperately needed to take him upstairs, sink my fangs into his flesh, and fuck him until he cried out for mercy, but as a mere human, he took more care than that.

“You’ve been cleaning.” Luke smiled as he gazed around the foyer, running his forefinger along the tabletops.

It came up free of dust each time, a fact of which I was rather proud.

“I have,” I said, puffing out my chest. “I’ve nothing better to do, you know.”

“I’m sure you do, but this is really sweet. It looks great too.”

“Ah, but there’s more.”

I led Luke through the house, giving him a second and better house tour. The dining hall shined, with the crystal laid out on the table sparkling clear and bright. I’d even brought in fresh flowers which I cut myself early that morning before the sun was up.

The room smelled lovely, although I suspected Luke liked the scent more than I did. It was a bit too floral and clean for me, someone who’d preferred the colder, headier scents of wine, aged wood, and…blood.

Blood. I shifted to the other side of Luke, who was busy examining the antique glasses laid out on the table, so that I could see the marks on his neck where I bit him.

“Your bite marks are healing nicely,” I remarked as casually as I could.

“Yeah,” Luke said. “I wore turtlenecks and high-collared shirts at work all week so no one would notice them and ask what happened, but the cuts are pretty much gone now.”

“I’m sure you’re glad they’ve healed.”

Luke shrugged. “I kind of miss them, actually. Every time I saw myself in a mirror, I thought of you.” He grimaced. “Er, I meant because of the cuts, not the mirror. Sorry.”

I shook my head and put a finger to his lips to shut him up before he made another faux pas. I was hardly listening to the things he said, though.

Drawing myself closer, I caressed the faint scars on his skin. They were smooth and soft like the rest of his neck. I couldn’t help myself as I ran my finger over them a second time, wishing I could puncture the supple pink skin again.

Luke must have sensed my desire. Catching my hand with his, he held it against the scars as he tipped his head, caressing his cheek against my knuckles. I shivered, the sensation I didn’t think I was capable of having running down my spine.

Luke’s fingers squeezed tighter around my wrist. “I’d be open to receiving more bite marks today if you’re interested.” His voice was barely above a whisper, but I heard it perfectly.

I was never one to turn down a taste of blood. I had to be careful now, as I was walking a thin line. I desperately wanted to give into those hedonistic pleasures, but I had to retain some sense of control. I didn’t want to hurt Luke on only our second date when even an accident could be irreconcilable, or make him uncomfortable with my actions.

“I would very much enjoy that,” I told him. “But not on your neck.”

“Why not?”

“We must be careful not to let your skin heal fully and not leave permanent scars. And, as you said, you had to hide your neck from your colleagues at work. That simply won’t do.”

“Where, then?”

“Your shoulder, your back, your thigh – wherever you want. Tell me and I shall draw blood – but not yet. First, let us go up to my room where it will be easier to clean up. This dining hall is not made for feasts of blood.”

If I’d let myself have my way, I would have thrown the glass off the table and lifted Luke onto it that second. But someone had to keep me in check, and I was the only one who knew how. It wasn’t pleasant to deny myself pleasures of the flesh at times like this, not when I was so close to getting what I desired.

I turned around and strode out of the dining hall before I changed my mind. Luke followed me out and up the stairs, stopping by the photographs and artwork again to admire the now-cleaned glass and frames.

“Was your great-grandmother the first in your family to be turned?” Luke asked, stopping me dead in my tracks,

“Why, yes,” I said slowly. “How did you infer that?”

Luke pointed to the stoic young woman’s mouth in the painting. “She has no indentations on her lower lip, indicating that she didn’t have prominent fangs at the time this painting was created. If I recall correctly, showing marks on the lip was a common artistic expression to denote vampirism before photography existed or was widely available, even if actual vampires don’t have noticeable marks on their lips most of the time – which means she was either fully or partially human when this portrait was done. There’s debate whether vampires were portrayed that way to make them look scarier to humans or if it’s because not being able to see a clear marker of vampirism is more frightening to us.”

“Well, well, someone’s been reading A Complete History of Vampires.” I tried to hide my smile, but it was impossible.

“Just a little,” Luke admitted. “I hope it’s accurate. I, um, I got it at the library.”

“Yes, it’s the single most accurate recording of vampirism from the dawn of humans till about 1950. After that, works on vampires became more prolific and were no longer banned in schools and most libraries.”

“Books on vampirism were banned?”

“I take it you have not gotten past chapter 24?”

“I fell asleep in the middle of chapter 20 yesterday and I haven’t had time to read anymore since.”

Luke was pleased to be able to hold a semi-coherent conversation on my kind’s history, and I didn’t bother hiding my delight. It overjoyed me to know that a human cared so much about learning more about me that he sought out knowledge independently.

If my gesture of cleaning had been sweet, his gesture was saccharine, and I didn’t mind one bit.