“I know,” I admit with a sigh. “I don’t think it’s infected. Yet. I kinda forgot about it.”
“How did you forget about that? It’s not like you have anything going on.”
“Are you making a joke?” I bring my hand to my mouth, feigning shock.
“Was it funny?” A lightness takes over his dark eyes and he walks away from the windows. The others are outside, stretching their wings and patrolling. I’m not sure what they’re worried about finding, and I don’t want to ask. Not yet.
“Yeah, it was,” I say with a smile.
“I like seeing you smile.”
My smile grows. “I like smiling.”
He lets go of my hand and sits on the couch next to me. I haven’t seen Jacques smile—really smile—anywhere other than my dream. Speaking of the dream, my eyes go to the scar on his waist. Apprehensively, I reach out and touch it, tracing the thick line of scar tissue down to the waist of his pants.
“How did you get this?”
He turns his head, looking down to see which scar I’m talking about.
“I was a knight,” he says, like it’s obvious. “I fought.”
I continue tracing the scar, pushing past the waist of his pants. Jacques inhales deeply, muscular chest rising.
“You’re definitely nothing like the priests I knew growing up.”
“What about this?” His hand lands on my thigh and slides down to my knee. “How’d you get this scar?”
“I fell off a bike when I was twelve years old. Scraped the hell out of that whole leg but that’s the only scar that remains. A true testament to my wild childhood, that’s for sure.”
Jacques smiles along with me, then shakes his head. “I have no idea what a bike is.”
“A horse on wheels. Wait, no.” I laugh. “That’s a terrible description. Tomorrow I’m bringing my computer. I can use my phone as a hotspot and we’re watching a movie. I think that’s the best way to expose you all to the modern world. Lots and lots of movies.”
“I don’t know what those are either.”
“I’ll bring you newer books too. ThoughEmmais a good one to start with. Taking a couple hundred years off might help with the shock that’ll come from the digital age and all.”
Silence falls between us, and every time I blink, I see Jacques as a man—a naked man—before me.
On top of me.
In me.
I let out a breath, trying to cool off. But there’s no escaping the heat quickly building inside.
“Are you scared?” he asks.
“Of what?”
“Vampires.”
I bend my legs up onto the couch, resituating so I’m leaning closer to Jacques. “Yes and no. I try not to let myself think ahead to the ‘what ifs’ in life. Because at the root of it all, that’s what’s scary.What ifthe vampires attack me?What ifI can’t fight them off and I die?” I quickly shake my head. “I’m not proving my point very well.”
“I think I know what you mean,” he says. “The unknown is what we fear. What if something bad happens. The more likely we are to get hurt in an unknown situation, the more likely we are to feel fear.”
“Right. And the more comfortable we are, the more we assume we’re fine, the less fear we feel.” I grab a loose string on the hem of my sleeper shorts and pull on it. “Though, in my line of work, I know that’s all bullshit. Being comfortable doesn’t stop the bad things. Terrible shit can happen in the best settings, you know? So, I guess, no, I’m not scared of the vampires. I’m scared of what could happen, but if I’m prepared, I’ll be okay. And, really, I could die in a freak accident any day. Living in fear robs you of life.”
He looks at me with admiration. “I understand. I didn’t when I was…when I was human.”
