When they finally fulfilled their parental obligations, they let me go to my room. I pushed the door shut behind me and leaned back against it, closing my eyes and breathing a sigh of relief. My room was my sanctuary.
The air smelled stagnant and made me feel claustrophobic, so I walked to my window to raise it. Before I reached it, I heard the screech of wood scraping against a metal track as my window rose.
My feet faltered and I slowed, creeping closer to the window. Just as I stopped in front of it, the intoxicating scent of Bo assailed me and I felt that bone-deep yearning that so often overcame me when he was near.
“Bo?”
“I’m here,” he said from somewhere outside my window.
“Did you just—”
I trailed off. Of course he did. How else would my window get raised?
“What?”
“Nothing,” I said.
I saw the screen pop out and then heard the shuffling sounds of him crawling through the window. I wondered about how he’d gotten the window up through the screen, but the thought was lost as soon as Bo started walking toward me. I couldn’t see him, but my nerves stirred with every step he took in my direction. It made the hairs on my arms stand at attention.
“I wanted to make sure you were alright,” he said, coming to stand in front of me. He was so close, I could feel the coolness of his body radiating toward me, like standing in front of an open refrigerator door.
“I’m fine.” And that was entirely true now that he was here. “I see that you didn’t go home,” I said, referring to his transparency.
“I wanted to keep any eye on you until you got home safely.” Gently, he rubbed the backs of his fingers over my side, where I’d been impaled. Even through his shirt, my skin felt chilled. “How does it feel?”
“Fine, like it always has. It doesn’t even hurt,” I assured him. I left out any mention of how his touch was affecting the rest of me.
Bo lifted up the edge of his shirt and slid his fingertips along my skin.
“Yow! Your hands are like ice,” I yelped.
Bo jerked his hand back as if I’d slapped him. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
I felt him step back from me, and I instantly regretted my reaction. I stepped toward him to close the gap between us. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my body to his, goose bumps breaking out all over my skin. I steeled myself against the cold, determined not to shiver.
“Bo, you’re freezing. How long can you stay like this? Without food?”
“A while.”
I could hear the weakness in his voice, feel the little tremor that vibrated through his body.
A solution occurred to me, one that brought a hint of fear and dread, but one that I felt compelled to offer.
“Could you, um, drink from me?”
Again, Bo jerked back as if I’d hurt him. “No!”
His reaction made me feel dirty or unsavory, like the thought of drinking my blood was somehow repugnant to him.
“Why?” I couldn’t keep the hurt from my voice.
“I will never do that,” he spat.
“But why? You need blood. I can give you that, just like you gave me yours.”
“I don’t drink from humans. Only killers and monsters do that.”
I felt ashamed for even having suggested it, though my motives had been pure.
I didn’t understand his reaction. He was a vampire. Vampires drink blood. He needed blood. I had blood. What was I missing?
“You’ve never taken blood from a human?”
“I drink blood donated to the blood bank,” he replied, not really answering my question at all.
“Have you always done that? I mean, you’ve never had it from a real live person?”
Bo’s hesitation answered my question before he even opened his mouth.
“Ah,” I said, comprehension dawning and bringing with it more hurt. “You just don’t want my blood.”
Bo’s voice was tender and sincere when he responded. “If I drank from humans, you would be the only person I’d want to drink from.”
“Then why don’t you?”
“I just,” he paused, sighing. I heard a rasping sound and I knew he was running his fingers through his hair. “I did, once. But I promised myself I’d never do it again. And I haven’t. It’s like poison of a different kind, poison for your soul.”
I tried not to be frustrated by his not-an-answer answers. “I’m assuming you don’t want to talk about it.”
“It’s not my favorite topic, no.”
“Then maybe you should go,” I suggested. It sounded pouty and I hated that, so I added, “You need to feed and I’m pretty beat.”
Bo was quiet for what seemed like an eternity before he responded. “Alright.”
I heard his practically silent footsteps as he made his way to the window.
“Will you be alright?”
“I’ll be fine. I just wanted to check on you,” he said.
I heard the sounds of him exiting through the window just before his voice traveled back to me.
“Sweet dreams, Ridley,” he whispered and then, once again, I was alone.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Monday dawned clear and cool. When I got to school, the halls were abuzz with tales of Drew’s recovery from our car accident. He was quite the miraculous survivor, if the chatter of the girls was any indication. Apparently he was made of steel, superhuman and quite invincible.
I just shook my head and pushed through the throng, making my way to my locker. A few rows down from mine, I saw Savannah standing with Devon at his locker. He looked up and I smiled. He looked happier than I’d seen him in a long time. I watched as Savannah stretched up on her tiptoes to whisper something in his ear and then she turned to walk away—and made her way to me.
“So,” she said, coming to a chipper halt to my right and leaning up against the locker beside mine. “I totally owe you.”
Puzzled, I glanced over into her cocoa eyes and asked, “Owe me for what?”
“For getting that skanky strumpet off my back,” she clarified, wrinkling her pert nose.