To Save a Vampire - A.K. Koonce Page 0,14

jaw tighter and starts to remove his shirt. My breath catches and my eyes grow wide as his chest becomes exposed. I try to look away from the hard lines of his stomach—the flawless muscle that flows over his body—but I can’t. I won't. I realize my mother and Ky behind us have stopped working. Maybe they, too, are mesmerized by the perfection that has just been revealed.

Should we clap now?

No?

Forty-four takes no notice of the audience he now fully has. He rips the shirt apart into long strips and, once the shirt is entirely shredded, he returns to my side with an outstretched, demanding hand. I swallow harshly, putting my sole focus into his eyes and not his perfect body as I sit up and extend my injured palm to him.

He really does just want to help me. The monster the people of my community have imprisoned for decades is a bit kinder than I expected. Maybe he’s not the animal Dr. Shaw believes him to be. Maybe none of them are. Or maybe he’s as good of a liar as my mother.

“Thanks,” I say in a quiet, nervous voice.

I can hear my mother and Ky moving within the cave again.

I watch as he rinses a strip of his shirt under the falling water and then starts to unwrap my old bandage. His beautiful features focus on his task. The sun reflecting off the water lights up his face, emphasizing his silver eyes and his strong jawline that makes me want to trace the angles with my fingers. My hand flexes at the thought of it and then stings when he wipes the still fresh blood away. I breathe slowly through my teeth, trying to release some of the pain.

He stops as soon as I make a noise. “Sorry,” he says in a rough whisper. I watch him breathe in pain of his own as soon as he speaks.

It surprises me every time he speaks, and I find myself sympathizing with him again. I try to talk a little to keep my mind off my throbbing hand.

“At the compound yesterday,” As I speak, his silver eyes meet mine for only a second before continue with his work. “When you spoke to me, you captivated me, didn’t you?”

He smiles and shakes his head, his eyes never leaving the thin cut in my palm.

“Really? This isn’t something you have to lie about. I won’t be mad if you tell me,” I say in a ramble, but he still shakes his head no.

After he wraps my hand with the fresh bandage, he goes to his pack and, after some searching, brings back a notebook and pen.

I watch him write neatly across the paper before handing it to me.

Captivating is … difficult to accomplish. Something very few of us are capable of, something our ancestors are known for. What would I have captivated you into exactly? I didn’t trick you into breaking me out of the compound … Or perhaps I did. He raises an eyebrow at me, the corner of his lip tilting up, a smile tugging at his mouth.

I laugh quietly at his reply and find that I have so many more questions now.

“If you didn’t captivate me.” I pause. I’m suddenly afraid the emotions I felt yesterday were entirely my own. “Never mind. How can you walk in daylight? I thought the sun burns pikes.” I’m too afraid to ask my real questions.

His brows crease, and a sigh falls from his lips. He takes the notebook and writes quickly and more sloppily this time.

I imagine I could get a slight sunburn for … at least an hour... probably less. My ancestors burned under the light of day. I am not a vampire though, only half vampire.

He pauses his writing and then adds another sentence.

And for the record, the word pike is demeaning. We’re hybrids.

The answer to my question is not very intriguing, but the idea that pike is not the proper term is.

“Pike is insulting to you?” I ask.

He takes the paper back and writes a few short sentences. I try to focus on the paper and not how it’s brushing against his hard stomach.

No, it’s a derogative descriptive term and a poor one at that. Pike was used when humans tried to shorten the word vampire to describe someone half human, half vampire. Pire for short then it turned into pike. Somewhere in history the careless humans really screwed up the spelling.

“That does sound like something humans would do,