To Love a Vampire - A.K. Koonce Page 0,1

seems to never sleep. His posture is stiff, much like that of the other warriors of the Wandering lands, but his is different. Distant, like he’d rather not be arm and arm with me—or anyone for that matter. As if my touch might set him on fire. He’s never given me the feeling he doesn’t like me. In fact, he’s one of the few friends I have here.

My life in the Wandering community is the total opposite of my life in the work camp. My friends and family are gone, along with the controlled lifestyle I once lived. The government doesn’t interfere with the Wanderers like they do the human camps. Part of me thinks the hidden society of mystics is a threat to the humans. It would explain the secret treaty between this community and the government.

I’m the only human here. It’s odd; last year I had never met a mystic and now they accept me as one of their own.

I was lucky to be brought here. To find such a safe haven within the hell I have lived. It’s a miraculous feeling to feel safe and alive when you once felt death rattling your slow beating heart.

The Wanderers are something different, something unique in today's restrained world. They are free. They are encouraged to live how they please, to grow old however they like. As long as they remain a secret society the government will never hinder their way of life. Only if they do not interfere with the controlled villages south of here. The villages I once lived in. The friends I left behind are still forced to work and live and even reproduce how the government directs them.

I shake the weighted thought from my mind before it manifests into anything more.

In the darkness, I peer at my friend as we walk through the thick forest. Kaino is a friend but never revealing. Never personal. I know as much about Kaino as his exterior allows me and he, in return, knows the same about myself.

He’s actually quite handsome. Giving him another side glance, my eyes trail dark brooding features, which are embellished even more when his long lashes brush against high cheek bones. He could be more handsome, if he wasn’t so stern all the time; a frown eternally etched across his face.

I was offered one of his secrets when we first met. Only one in the entire year that I’ve been here. Just under the bulky muscle of the warrior’s scarred body, lies a dormant trait. A trait that the Wanderers have kept sheathed for nearly a decade in cooperation with The Exception Treaty.

Beneath Kaino’s detached expressions and his depthless dark eyes, lies an animal rattling its cage to get out. An animal that’s kept caged in honor of the treaty between the Wanderers and the government. An animal that might be consuming Kaino from the inside out.

A werewolf.

Kaino leads us toward the raging flames in the distance. The flickering fire is held high by strong logs twice my size and make the mystics seem small and insignificant, despite their dominant personalities. Laughter and music blow through the breeze the closer we come to the gathering. Tonight’s celebration is the biggest I have seen.

He leans in close to me and whispers in a deep voice, his warm breath fanning my cheek, “I’m glad you chose to join us. Every Wanderer will be present for tonight’s celebration.”

I nod at his words, my eyes scanning the crowd. The Wanderers celebrate every night. In their culture, every day is a celebration because their people didn’t always have the freedoms they have now. So rejoice, drink, love, and repeat.

It’s true though, it is an enormous turnout. Hundreds of people are gathered in the clearing before us. I watch as females in minimal clothing dance barefoot on the dry dusty ground. Some of the males in their usual attire, shirtless with black jeans and black boots, drink and laugh while others sway with the females to the pounding drums. The structure of their bodies are finely lined with a lifetime of training and strength. The werewolves are fearless to the point of carelessness, a confidence flows off of them with every breath they take.

Their clothes are usually what gives their heritage away. The warriors and wolves who make up most of the Wandering community refuse to wear anything constricting. They’d probably be naked if they could; their feral instincts just pushing at the surface to get out. The fae, though there