blurted, steering the conversation away from my humiliating near-blunder.
“I’m eighteen,” he said, brushing a palm down his chest before lifting his chin and showing me his profile. “Why? Do I look older?”
Was he making jokes? I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so I settled for staring at him with narrowed eyes.
He sighed, saying, “I turned eighteen in nineteen ninety-eight. I’m not that old.”
I nodded, doing some quick math in my head. It was weird that he was more than twice my age, but looked like a regular teenager. And he’d be eighteen forever.
“What happened to you?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I got tickets for my birthday to go see NSYNC in concert.”
“Shut. Up.” My eyes widened with disbelief as I said the words.
“Don’t judge me,” he shot back, waving a hand in the air with a sad smile. “My sister was a huge fan, and she got me the tickets. So, of course, I had to take her with me.”
“Of course,” I replied when he fell silent.
“We stayed until the end, then hung out in the stadium until the crowds thinned out. By the time we hit the parking lot, it was mostly deserted. As soon as we reached my car, we were attacked.”
My hand flew to my mouth, and I was unsure I wanted to hear the rest. But I didn’t stop him, and he kept talking. Each word was like a blow to the face. Or to the heart.
“He got my sister first. We were on opposite sides of the car when she screamed. I looked up at the sound, and she was gone. I yelled her name and ran around the car, but she wasn’t there.”
He paused to compose himself as his voice cracked on the words. I reached out and grabbed his forearm, giving it a light squeeze.
“You don’t have to tell me,” I said, but he shook off the emotion and continued, though his gaze was haunted.
“I found her about thirty yards away in a spot where the stadium lot lights didn’t reach. A man was straddling her body, his mouth on her throat. I thought he was raping her. I ran forward and kicked him off of her, but it was too late. She was gone.”
He swallowed hard. Clearly, the memory of it, though it had been some time, still plagued him. I knew the feeling.
“As I stared at her lifeless body, the vampire jumped onto my back and bit my neck. I tried to throw him off of me, but he was too strong.
“A car came around the corner of the building, and the headlights scared the man off. I remember feeling really sick, like a sudden fever ravaged through me, and I passed out. I woke up in the morgue, lying under a white sheet on a gurney next to my dead sister. She was gone; I wasn’t. And I didn’t know why.”
“Levi, I’m so sorry.”
He dipped his head. “It was a long time ago.”
“What happened? How did you get to where you are now?”
“Charles Purty saved me. He keeps tabs on the news outlets, and as soon as he heard about the attack, he came to get me… but he was a little too late.”
“What do you mean?”
“I... killed the mortician,” he said, his voice filled with anguish and self-loathing. “When a vampire is reborn, the thirst is uncontrollable. The man walked in, and I attacked him. It was... instinct. He was gone when Charles walked in and pulled me off him.”
“So, is he the only person you’ve ever killed?” I asked, clutching my trembling hands behind my back.
“Don’t try to rationalize my actions, Piper. I’m a monster.” He growled, suddenly fierce. It was as if he still wanted me to be afraid, but it wasn’t working. “Which is why I wanted you to leave. You can’t trust vampires.”
“Is he the only human you’ve ever killed?” I repeated, my voice firm.
“Yes,” he said, his gaze dark and stormy.
“So, you watched your sister die on your birthday, got attacked, basically died and came back to life, had no idea where you were—or what you were—lashed out in a haze of bloodlust and accidentally killed someone. Is that the gist of it?”
“Pretty much,” he admitted.
“I can handle that,” I said.
“Piper—”
“Do you feel an urge to bite me and drink my blood?” I asked, cutting off whatever self-loathing warning he was about to give me.
I knew I should have been shivering in my sneakers or running for the nearest