“Of course.” Erik gives me a sidelong look. “Does this mean you’re accepting my changes to the score?”
“It means I’ll look at them, and if I’ll like them, we’ll do it your way. But I’m still mad that you changed it without asking me first.”
The smile he sheds over me is like sultry sunshine, designed to melt even the most resolved of hearts. My lips widen in an answering smile before I catch myself.
“Nope,” I say firmly. “You can’t fix this by flirting.”
He frowns, looking deeply offended. “I never flirt.”
“But I do,” puts in Christine. I feel my zipper being dragged down by delicate fingers, and when I look at her, she smirks. “What can I say? Dancing and fighting make me horny. Scoot this way a bit. I’m going to sit on your lap.”
I shift along the bench toward the passenger side, and she climbson top of me, arranging her short skirt so it covers what we’re doing. Her panties are already on the floor of the truck—I’m not sure when she took them off. Her fingers slide into my open jeans, bring out my dick, and nudge it into the slippery, warm center of her. I gasp when she seats herself fully on me.
“Eyes ahead,” she tells Erik, and he reluctantly swerves his gaze back to the road.
With my left hand, I cup him between the legs, rubbing firmly even as Christine rides me, and my mind dissolves into bliss. My head tilts back against the seat. Slowly, the pain in my right hand submerges beneath the pleasure, and I allow myself a smile of satisfaction.
I defended Christine. Protected Erik from himself. Maybe I do have the strength I need to finally free myself from the Nashville pack. Maybe that’s what my two lovers give me—the power to do the right thing.
Christine told us she left Nashville because she was afraid we might be toxic to each other—that combined in a trio, we might become capable of terrible things. But I suspect the opposite is true. Apart, we seem more prone to weakness, to fear, to evil. Together, we are stronger. We make better choices. We are healthier and more wholesome than ever.
I only hope our bond can withstand the pressure my family will exert on us once they find out why I’m leaving them.
27Christine
Opening night. At last.
Shrouded in shadow, I wait offstage for my cue.
The merry voices of the chorus fill my ears, softly punctuated by a couple of terse whispers from the backstage crew. There’s so much vibrant movement and glorious sound ahead of me, beneath the bright lights of the stage, yet the space around my body feels quiet, dark, and still.
My stomach flutters and rolls, the familiar pit of nausea tightening in my belly. My palms are sweating. But none of those symptoms deter me now, because I’ve been on that stage many times. I know that I can act, dance, and sing all at once. I was born to do this, and that certainty is a refuge in my heart, a cool, peaceful oasis that keeps me calm at my core no matter how anxiously my body may react. I’ve learned that if I endure the symptoms of stage fright without panicking about them, I can move through them.
When I step onstage, a different part of me takes over, unleashed from all the chains I’ve worn throughout my life and the barriers Iset around myself—the walls that were meant to protect me from the world and the world from me.
A few months ago, I couldn’t have imagined doing this. I couldn’t have pictured singing in front ofoneperson, let alone playing the lead for a musical. Not to mention costarring with the angel-voiced god of death.
The change in my confidence was mostly gradual, a slow transformation. But there were leaps in my growth, like the day I auditioned, the time Raoul sang with me at the Alouette, and the preview performance when I sang Eugenie for the first time.
I’ve always known the vampire side of me was an asset, but over the past few weeks, as we’ve rehearsedSidewinderwith its new score, I’ve realized just how useful vampirism is, how far it can propel me toward the new dreams that twirl through my brain at night when I’m lying in the lair below the theater, sharing the big bed with Erik and Raoul.
My nature as a vampire gives me the edge I need. It makes me faster, stronger, more graceful, more passionate. I’m less prone to injury and therefore less fearful of hurting myself, which spurs me to take greater risks with my dancing. My vocal cords recover quickly, so I can devote myself fully to belting out huge notes without worrying that I’ll strain my voice.
Can it be that after so many years, I’m starting to move past the basic acceptance of my nature toward actually loving what I am?
Part of me still resists the idea of appreciating my vampire side, as if by being grateful for its benefits, I’m somehow betraying my siblings and forgiving my parents. I’m not sure how to fully get past that twinge of guilt and reluctance every time I feel pleased with myself.
One thing is certain, though—I’m healthier than ever, thanks to my two new blood sources. Both Erik and Raoul recover quicklyafter I drink from them, so I don’t have to worry that I’m taking too much. Erik’s blood gives me a hit of ecstatic power I’ve never gotten from anyone else, and Raoul’s blood supplies a sensation of wholeness and strength that makes me feel like I could run across the entire continent without stopping. And the best part is I don’t ever have to go hunting for strangers in bars again.
If I really am starting to love every part of myself, I owe a lot of that growth to Erik and Raoul.
Erik is still in his dressing room. He’ll be here soon, ready to go onstage shortly after I do. Raoul managed to replace my former costar without too much fuss from the other directors, and even though I feel bad for Rune, I much prefer starring opposite Erik. He’s naturally theatrical and lends a depth to the character that Rune just wasn’t capable of.
Gil and Marj were curious about Erik, of course, demanding to know who he was and where he came from. Somehow, Erik concocted a brilliant backstory for himself, complete with online sources to back up his origins. It was enough to silence the directors, if not to completely allay Marj’s suspicions. But at last she tapped her mouth with one shellacked fingernail and said sharply, “Well, he’s easy on the eyes. Let’s do it.” And Erik proceeded to charm her and everyone else at each rehearsal after that.
I stretch my neck to one side, then the other, wondering how Raoul is doing in Box Five. He’s probably up there worrying and tearing his program into tiny pieces. Erik and I have struggled to soothe Raoul’s anxiety these past few weeks, ever since we returned from our road trip and he made the break with his family and the Shifter Collective.
Raoul refused to end things with his sister in person. I’m still not sure if that was the right choice, but it was his decision. He bribedone of the staff at the de Chagny house to pack up some of his things and bring them over to the New Orpheum, and then he sent his sister a long email explaining why he would no longer live in the house or assume any responsibilities with the pack.
