Chapter One
Ava
“You look different in the sun,” I say, turning on my side so I can ogle, I mean look at, Peter. I usually walk a fine line between ogling and looking. With his long, messy hair out of his eyes and his shirt off so he can soak up the maximum amount of sun, he's pretty damn gorgeous. With my heightened eyesight he's even more amazing than before we'd swapped blood.
“So do you,” he says, opening his eyes and glancing over at me. One blue, one green, a mark of being a noctalis. He tries to smile, but it's still not quite right. “How was that?”
“Still needs work.” He blinks at me, which is the noctalis equivalent of a shrug, or a sigh, or an, “oh well.” Sometimes it's all three. This feels like one of those times.
Even with the unpleasantness that happened here a week ago, we're sitting outside the mausoleum where I first met him. It seems like it was years ago, but it hasn't even been two months. Funny how time works like that.
“You know she's going to find a way,” I say, taking the conversation to a dark place. He'd told me so many times that we'd worry about it when it happened, but I just couldn't do that. The breeze teases our hair, tossing it around, as if it agrees with me. Peter closes his eyes.
He says the same thing he's said every time I've said it.
“She is not here now, and it will take her time to come up with a plan. Enjoy the sun. Isn't it glorious?” He's so freaking cheerful, I want to ask if he got a personality transplant. Instead I puff my cheeks out and give up. For now. One day this is going to be a problem, but Peter seems content to let it go. Apparently our personalities have switched places like in some magical teen movie.
I'd been the reckless one when we'd first met. The one who, after I knew he could kill me, still wanted to hang out with him. Which I did. Multiple times. Even after he'd physically threatened me; that wasn't a deal breaker. The only way he could have gotten rid of me was to actually kill me. Which he hadn't done, yet.
And then there was his brother, Ivan, who wanted me dead at first, but then decided he wanted me alive so I could destroy Peter. They're not really close, if that wasn't clear when I first met them. But Ivan and Peter had united to face a common enemy. Their mother, Di. The enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that. We'd see how long that lasted.
Normally boys will battle to the death to protect their mother's honor. Di wasn't their biological mother, but the woman who'd made them what they are. Noctali. A word I still didn't really understand. As far as I knew, it meant that Peter had wings and he drank blood. An angel vampire.
His other brother, Viktor, was a vampire werewolf. I don't even know how that works. I had no idea about Ivan and Di. I'd never asked. Ignorance was bliss where that was concerned.
“I really need to go home.” I groan, rolling up to a sitting position. I didn't want to go, but I knew I had to. At least Dad wouldn't be there and I wouldn't be subjected to smelling him. Not that my dad smelled bad. He smelled really good. Kind of delicious, and I didn't want to think about the fact that I'd started smelling other people's blood and it made my mouth water. Nope, wasn't thinking about it.
“Then you should go.” I knew he wasn't human, and didn't see things the way I did, but it still stung that he didn't beg me to stay.
“Okay, then.” I stand up, folding up the blanket I'd been using so my butt didn't get wet. It was nearly May, but the warm air didn't reach Maine until at least June. “Are you coming over later?”
“Why wouldn't I?”
“I don't know.” I'm getting frustrated, which happens quite often with Peter. I brush a bit of grass off the blanket.
“I will be wherever you are.” And then he says things like that, and my heart does this squeezy thing and I get all tingly. I want to kiss him, but don't act on it. I'm wary of anything physical with Peter. Not because I don't want to, or he doesn't want to (I think), but because I don't want him to die.
Peter can't fall in love with me. Which should give him a good enough reason to say goodbye and good riddance. There's just one problem. Neither of us can stand to be without the other one. The Claiming is kind of hard to ignore, what with him only being able to drink my blood and me wanting him to. Also the fact that I think he's the sexiest thing I've ever seen and I just want to sit and stare at him.
I'm still recovering from the last donation. I'd let him take much more than was good for me, because he'd needed it. If I wasn't careful, I was going to get anemic. We already had one sick person in the family. We didn't need another.
“See you later,” I say, trying to tear myself away.
“Goodbye, Ava-Claire.” I smile when he uses both of my names. He and my mother are the only people allowed to call me that. I give him a stupid little wave as I leave, but he just watches me as I walk away. I like the way he watches me. It also scares me.
Peter
I prefer to sit in the sun with Ava, but I understand she has activities that do not involve me. I respect her time, as she respects my “noctalis things,” as she calls them. Before I met her, many of those things involved hunting and chasing and feeding and killing. I enjoyed that time, but I enjoy my time talking with her more. Strange how priorities can change in a heartbeat.
Hers.
I can still hear it, even though she's in her car. I could go with her, but I think she fears being with me too often. Fearing that I will end, even though I have already died. She spends a lot of time thinking about not getting too close to me. I can see it in her eyes. When she leans in and doesn't kiss me. When she smiles, and then puts it away.
If my existence were to end, I would feel peace knowing she was the one to end it for me. That does not mean I want it to end. Not anymore. I want to be with Ava, as long as I can. Even if that is one more second, I will take it.
I stay in the sun for another hour, absorbing as much as I can, feeling it sizzle through my veins, dissolving Ava's blood into fuel. If I'm not careful, I'm going to get drunk on her blood. We can get intoxicated if we have too much. It has happened to me many times, and I would rather not relive the experience. Instead of being slow and sluggish, we crave more and more and will stop at nothing to get it.
I leave my shirt off and let my wings push their way out of my back. I don't worry about someone catching me. It's hard having them away all the time, they feel strangled, constrained. I spread them out, stretching as far as I can. I can't fly until dark, but at least I can run. Tucking my wings back, I take to the woods. One of the things I like about Maine is all the undisturbed wilderness. The leaves and branches grab me, try to catch me as I go. I leave them in my wake, shattered. It is a relief to let my strength out. I have to be careful when I'm with Ava.