Page 103 of Blood Lovers

“Yes.” And then I turn to face him. It’s a mistake. I know it’s a mistake before I do it. But I know Paul. If he gives something, he wants something in return.

If he tells me about my past, I will give myself to him. Here, in the dream, at least.

And he reads all this in my face and smiles as he strokes my rough cheek with the back of his hand. “You won that fight.”

“Why was I fighting?”

Paul leans in and touches his lips to mine. It’s not a kiss. It’s just a touch. An incredibly erotic tease because I can smell blood on him. Like he bit the inside of his tongue or cheek so he can hide the fact that he’s using his blood to control me.

I am the one who kisses him. That’s why he did this. He wants me to come to him.

It’s a long, slow kiss. Our heads turning in just the right way so that we fit together. His chest pushed into mine. Our hips sliding together in the slickness of the steam and the water.

Up until now my hands have been at my sides. But I pull out of the kiss and touch him now. One hand on his hip, the other slipping between us to take hold of him. I watch his expression as this happens and his eyes immediately start to close with lust.

I kiss him again. And I whisper the words, “Tell me more,” into his mouth. “Tell me all of it.”

“Not all of it. But I will tell you more.” He pulls away from me and turns me around so I’m facing the wall again. Then he slips his hands around my hips, makes two fists around my cock, and leans his chest into my back. “I nearly came, watching you. The look on your face. The determination. The anger. And, of course, the blood. All over your knuckles, and your t-shirt, and your mouth. I wanted to kiss you right then and there. And do you know that every time I do kiss you, I think of that night?”

I let out a long breath. “Why was I fighting?”

“There was some kind of insult, I think. I didn’t catch the whole beginning. Just pieced together context by listening to the conversation. And back in those days this is how men settled things. They beat each other up and the winner was the winner. It was a much simpler time. I liked it.”

I am spinning. Dizzy. And the hot water has changed my temperature. I’m no longer cold. Not at all cold. Even Paul’s body, leaning into mine, feels cool to the touch compared to me.

“Any more questions?”

I have a lot of question about that night. But I’m suspicious too. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you’re being reasonable. And not fighting me.”

“You mean because I’m kissing you and letting you touch me.”

“Because you’re giving in, Ryet. Which is not the same thing as giving up.”

“How much more will you tell me if I give in completely? Will you tell me about them?”

He doesn’t ask who I’m talking about. He doesn’t have to. “If you give in completely, Ryet, I won’t need to tell you. Because you will remember all on your own.”

“What?” I turn to face him. But in that same moment the purple is gone, the dreamwalk fades, and it’s just me, alone, in a steaming-hot shower.

“Paul!” I yell it. Go searching for him. Trying to find the dreamwalk. Trying to find him.

But as stupid as this sounds, after all these decades, I have never actually done that before, so I have no clue how to do it now.

“Paul.” All I can do now is call for him. Beg him. “Paul!”

But he’s gone.

And now I know how it feels, don’t I?

I have left him hanging like this hundreds of times.

So I guess this is what I deserve.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - SYRSEE

Did I fuck the vampire last night?