“May I taste it?”
I take a step back. “What do you mean? Adrenaline is in my bloodstream.” Is he some kind of space vampire?
He shakes his head. “It’s not in your blood. It’s an energy around you.” He moves closer and inhales. “It’s on your skin.”
“Sweat?”
“Possibly. Can I taste your skin?”
“As in lick it?” A nervous laugh bubbles off my lips. “Sure…no biting though.”
His tongue flicks out and sweeps along my jaw. “Yes, that’s it. Delicious. Shadow would like a bite.”
“What?” I draw back. I haven’t asked nearly enough questions about the new aliens in my life. And I didn’t ask enough about the old one either. “What does your kind eat?”
“I eat mostly nectar and such, and Shadow consumes meat and also blood.”
“So he’s a vampire.” Made of actual darkness that no one will see coming. He’s an actual nightmare.
Fuck.
“Your scent changed.”
“Yeah.” I’m not about to explain fear in case it’s tastier than sweat. “We should return to Doug’s. And do something with Mikhail, or whatever his real name is.”
“You’re afraid because Shadow wants a taste of your blood.”
“He wants to bite me.” They were the same person, so if Light wants a taste, of course Shadow wants a taste. But they were also two separate beings, like twins with a common mind. Two bodies, one thought process. I’m getting a headache thinking about it.
“Some people enjoy that.”
“I’m sure they do.”
“I did not mean any offense.”
“I’m not offended. Confused.” And perhaps a little curious. “Do you always bite people on the first date?”
“This is not a date. You’d know it if it was a date.” Thistle opens the car door and gets in, and I do the same.
He looks at me and I return his gaze. Now he isn’t wearing Doug’s face. He is very pretty. His skin has a gleam, and his eyes have a shimmer. It’s almost too much to take in. “On Earth, we don’t bite people on the first date. We kiss them.”
“What purpose does that serve? Do you like the taste of saliva?”
“Ew. No.” That is a thought I will never be able to get rid of.
“Then why do it?”
“Because it feels nice.” I start the car and drive through the alley, pausing at the other end for pedestrians. “You don’t kiss, ever?”
“I have not because there is nothing in saliva—”
“Please stop saying that word—” I am never going to be able to kiss anyone again without thinking about spit.
“That I want to taste.”
“You licked my sweat. I’m not sure you can claim the high ground.” I pull out into traffic to head back to Doug’s.
Thistle pulls his smart phone like device out of his pocket and with glowing fingers moves his hand over the screen. I want to know what he is doing and how that thing works.
