Now that’s interesting. That means he was around before the Paranormal Protection Act was passed.
“What was it like?” I ask. “Back then.”
He ponders over his answer, probably deciding how truthful he wants to be with me, then he says one word that speaks volumes. “Violent.”
This shakes me. I can’t imagine having been a paranormal before the protections were put in place. From what I learned in history classes, there was a period of many centuries in which they successfully lived in hiding, but paranormals only lasted about seventy years in the open before laws had to be put in place.
Unfortunately, I don’t think humans will ever be welcoming toward something they don’t understand. I see the same thing with how they treat animals. It’s cruel, but nothing will change without the right education.
“I’m sorry.” My words won’t change anything, but I want him to know I have sympathy. “Did you lose anyone?”
This time he doesn’t take as long to respond. “It wasn’t during that time, but yes, I lost my parents.” It’s likely a story he’s had to retell many times, given the robotic nature in which he says it. “They were killed by other vampires. Territorial disputes ran rampant back then.” He purses his lips and crosses his leg at the ankle. “Though I dislike that we’ve been segregated from humans, I do prefer the sense of established domain it provides. No more fighting over which vampire runs the city, given we’re not allowed in the city anymore.”
I glance back at the photo of Nashville. I know there’s no law preventing paranormals from visiting the major cities, but it must feel like it when they still aren’t welcomed by those who live there. Being told to move to a neighborhood with only your kind seems a bit backhanded to me. The law claims to give protection, but really, it’s just exclusionary.
“You used to live there, didn’t you?” I ask, nodding to the photo.
Then Aidan does something that takes me completely by surprise.
He smiles.
The expression doesn’t fit his face. It looks so odd on someone I’ve only ever associated with displeasure and stiffness. But the longer I look, the more natural it becomes. This softer, more intimate side of Aidan must be a version no one ever sees.
“I don’t remember much about Marseille. I came to America the year I turned nine. I remember being wide-eyed as I took in everything around me like a sponge. It was completely different from the world I was used to—like landing on an entirely different planet—and it took a while for me to get my bearings, but I learned to love it. I moved there in my twenties,” he says, pointing to the photo of Nashville. “I love that city fiercely.The food, the music, the nightlife. The people. It was my home for many years. But the last decade was not a time I wish to remember.”
I shift nervously. “Because of the violence?”
That beautiful smile disappears and is replaced with a sullen frown. “It’s when I became a vampire.”
I get the sense this is a touchy subject for him, so I try to make light of it. “So, you drink blood, but what else is special about you? Can you read minds?”
Aidan’s frown deepens. “No, I cannot read minds. That is science fiction.”
“Of course,” I say with a mock apology, throwing up my hand. “My bad.” I consider something even more far-fetched to irk him. “Can you turn into a bat?”
His lips practically disappear he’s pressing them together so hard. “No, Joanna, I cannot transform into a bat.” He drones on, checking off any proverbial boxes I might toss his way. “I cannot fly, I don’t burn up in the sun, and I most definitely do not sparkle.”
I’m struck with glee at his nod to one of my favorite movie franchises. “I wasn’t even going to bring that up, but since you did…”
He stops me by getting to his feet. “I believe your clothes are now dry.”
And that’s probably my cue to leave. I don’t know what I was thinking by overstaying my welcome. It’s not like he invited me in out of the kindness of his cold, dead heart. I probably just looked like I was on the verge of pneumonia, and he didn’t want my death to be on his conscience.
I slip my heels back on, and Aidan comes back a minute later holding a neatly folded pile of—He took the time to fold my clothes? And—oh my god—is that my underwear on top?!
I yank everything from him and clutch the material against my chest like it’s some sort of damning evidence against me I don’t want him to have.
I head for the entryway at a brisk walk, then I turn on my heel to say…something. He’s right behind me. “Well, thanks for,” I hold up my folded dress, “you know.”
I turn back to open the door, but the knob is one of those fancy glass ones that’s hard to grip properly. He leans past me to turn it, but as he does, I feel him stiffen as his arm brushes against mine. Something has triggered him, but I don’t know what.
At first, I think he’s going to say I smell bad, probably like a wet dog. I’m about to say he’s just as soggy as me, but then I feel the gentle caress of his fingers brushing aside the damp hair from my shoulder. The action is downright erotic compared to what happened earlier in the bathroom. I needed his help then, but there’s no rhyme or reason to why he’s touching me now.
Is it because he wants to? And if so, I think I like it.
“Why does your adrenaline smell so intoxicating?” he whispers against my ear.
I am undoubtedly nervous, but is that really what has him so interested all of a sudden? A bit predatory for my taste.
