To Save a Vampire - A.K. Koonce Page 0,28

giving me lately. I can endure the lack of information, knowing we are helping Forty-four, but I can’t take the dishonesty that nags at my mind night and day. The agitation builds in my chest until I can’t take it anymore.

As quietly as possible, I slip from my bed and tiptoe to the door. It creaks, announcing me as I slowly open it. I pause and listen. I can hear my mother’s whispers downstairs. She is speaking in a hushed tone to Ky who, as always, can’t seem to get a word in.

I step quickly from my room and the door closes behind me with a soft click before I’m hurriedly tiptoeing down the hall to the door next to mine, the room I heard him enter an hour ago. The knock I give is soft and hesitant. I wait a moment.

With my heart pounding I wait another.

And another.

But he doesn’t answer. Maybe he’s not in this room. Maybe he’s asleep. Maybe he’s ignoring me in exchange for sleep.

But I need to know.

The uncertainty is thick to swallow but I shove it down and quickly slip inside, closing the door and standing in front of it like I’m blocking a scared animal’s exit.

His eyes meet mine. But there’s no surprise in his smooth, perfect features.

If anything he’s… amused.

Forty-four is sitting up in the bed with an instrument across his lap. He strums against the wires of the instrument while twisting metal nobs at the top. The noise sounds terrible. He stops strumming and sets the wooden instrument down next to the bed.

It takes me a minute to realize he’s waiting for me to explain myself.

Right… Explain why I rushed into his room like I’m on fire and his smile is the only thing that could save my burning life…

A sigh of stupidity shoves from my lungs.

His dark hair is disheveled, and brilliant gray eyes sparkle in the early morning sunlight. A few minutes pass, and I still haven’t said anything. I also haven’t looked away from the hard lines of his stomach. It doesn’t take long before a slow smile spreads across his lips. Heat flushes over my face in a rapid wave that makes question if I really am on fire now.

It’s then that I realize I might be the scared animal.

“Sorry, I couldn’t sleep,” I say quietly. Lamely.

He signs something slowly to me with only a few hand gestures, but I shake my head at him, wondering why he won’t speak to me now.

He clears his throat loudly, and a nervousness tingles over my body. What if my mother heard him and somehow knows I’m in here? Irrational fear lands like a brick in the pit of my stomach.

He swallows harshly. “I—’’ His voice is raspy and barely audible. “I stayed up talking with Charlotte.” He swallows again and clears his throat a second time. “Now my voice is hoarse from overuse. How ironic.”

He shakes his head as he pushes himself farther up in his bed and pats the mattress next to him. The heat in my cheeks, it’s consuming now. I look around the room, anywhere but at the arrogant smile that appears on his face.

The bed is small in the tiny room. Its mahogany headboard takes up the majority of the east wall and a little three-drawer dresser stands alone on the opposite wall. The nightstand next to him is dusty, but the leather-bound bible on top appears to have been wiped off.

His invitation leaves me unsure and uncertain of my every move. Walking with caution like I might break through the old wooden floor at any minute and land shamefully at my mother’s feet, I make my way to his bed and sit lightly on the edge, barely disrupting his covers.

He smirks down at me through my awkwardness and takes my hand in his. My palms instantly start to sweat and the air leaves my lungs at his small contact with me. I want to pull my hand back at his advance into my personal space, but I don’t move.

With my palm lying face up inside his large hand, he takes his fingers of his left hand and starts tracing against my palm. At first, it tickles, and I can’t help but laugh nervously. He stops his tracing, shakes his head, and tugs my hand until I look at him. He taps his finger a bit harder against my palm as if he wants me to pay attention. And then it dawns on me. He’s