"No," he said. "Don't go."
I was surprised by Alexander's response and he eded his plea. I wasn't sure what he would do next. I almost gasped. Instead of leaving me, he stepped closer and took my face in his hands.
Alexander was so close to me, his alluring presence took my breath away. He slowly reached his hand to my cheek. I froze as if the events were happening in slow motion. As his firm hand slid seductively along my face, I melted with it. Then he tenderly wiped the blood from my mouth. It was as if he had touched my soul. My blood was now staining his fingers just as it had stained mine.
I waited with bated breath as the biggest moment of mylife unfolded. I didn't think anything could have been dreamier than the first time we kissed or I slept in his coffin. Alexander was moments from taking my blood as his own.
I was suddenly filled with guilt and sadness as I thought maybe Alexander was doing this for the wrong reasons.
Maybe I'd just wornhim down.
Itook his hand and lifted mysleeve to wipe the dripping blood away. "Youdon't have to. . . ." Ifinallysaid.
Alexander gentlyblocked myhand withhis free one. "Iwant to," he said intensely.
The moment seemed surreal, and I felt as if I were in a dream. My body flooded with warmth.
Alexander stared at the dewy blood droplets now trickling down the side of his ghost white palm. It was as if he was making the decisionof a lifetime. This wasn't just anyblood to him. It was myblood.
Alexander glanced at me and smiled. His sharp fangs caught the moonlight and glistened like icicles. Then Alexander drew his hand to his mouth. I watched, my mouth agape, as he took his bloody hand to his lips, pressed his hand to his mouth, and the red droplets disappeared. He inhaled a huge audible breath, as if he were breathing the life of me into him.
I gazed at Alexander. He appeared transformed. For a moment it seemed as if his pale complexion was almost alive. Alexander whipped toward me with unbridled intensity. He leaned into me, his hair flopping over his forehead, and kissed me with such force my knees shook and my flesh quivered. I thought I might die of heavenly bliss.
Alexander held me, limp in his arms, and I felt bonded to him ina deeper waythanI'd ever experienced. He'd let me into his world, further than ever before.
Alexander squeezed me so tightly, it was as if we were one person. He picked me up and swung me around, the twinkling lights of Dullsville swirling by me.
When he let me down, we both were giddy and dizzy. When I regained my vision I could see my school, the country club, and the vacant Sinclair Mill off in the distance. It was then I noticed something unusual.
Alexander found me lost in thought.
"What is it?" he said. "Ihope youaren't--"
"No--everything is fine," Ireassured him. "It's nothing." Ididn't want anything to break our perfect moment.
"What's wrong?" he insisted.
Ihad to squint to make out the object. It was thenIcould see clearlya familiar car--or, rather, hearse.
Itried to blockAlexander's view byattempting to pull him away, but he didn't budge.
Alexander was already staring at the barren factory.
His blissful expressionsharpened slightly, and Icould tell it registered to him that it was Jagger's car.
Iremained inhis comforting clutches, bound to mylove ina wayIhadn't beenbefore. We clung to eachother, both reluctant to break our euphoric encounter and face the situation that we now overlooked.
So Jagger hadn't gone back to Romania or Hipsterville whenAlexander's partywas over. There had to be a reasonwhyhe didn't returnand was apparentlystaying inthe factory.
Alexander and I shared one last kiss before giving over to the distraction that lay at the bottom of the hill.
Chapter 2 - Dead End
Not wanting to draw attention to us, Alexander parked the Mercedes in a grassy area more than fifty yards away from the mill. I was still beaming over Alexander taking my blood as his own. We tiptoed over the gravel road that led to the factorywitha connectionthat couldn't be broken.As we neared the entrance, the dreamy look in Alexander's eyes continued and was onlyslightlymarred byhis concernover the discoveryof Jagger's presence.
We walked quietly through the shadows, and Alexander squeezed my hand extra tight.
The two antique smokestacks pointed toward the heavens like giant grave markers. The desolate and dilapidated factory was riddled with graffiti, broken and missing windows, rusted doors, and overgrown weeds and grass.