“Is that what you did with me, by not telling me straight away?”

He left my words hanging in the openness of our light moment. “Maybe. But you’re not over the bliss of love yet.”

“No, I’m damaged by it.” I rested my hands on my knees.

“You know, it hurts me when you say those things.”

“Sorry.”

He stole my hand. “It’s surreal—being here right now. I’m almost afraid this is just another dream, that I’ll wake up any moment and my world will fall apart.”

I looked sideways at him. “Then, if you wake up—come find me.”

He nodded. “Okay. I promise.”

In the silence he allowed then, my mind wandered over the night, but couldn’t get past Emily’s tears—more tears for another broken heart. It almost made me mad that my own best friend had put them there. “Why did Jason leave her?” I said out of the blue.

“Leave who?”

“Emily.”

He scratched the back of his neck, his words falling through open lips as nothing more than a sigh. “Really? You want to know this now?”

“Yes.”

“Ara, it’s late, we should—”

“Should what? Waste the few measly hours we get by going to sleep? No way. I want answers. Don’t you think I deserve—”

“Okay, okay.” He laughed, taking my hands. “I was going to tell you, I just wondered if you wanted to sleep first.”

I simmered down. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

“Sorry.”

“Ara.” He laughed.

Realising I’d just apologised for apologising, I said, “Sorry.” Then we both laughed softly, my whole face going hot with the sensation.

After a quiet moment, David said, “It was my fault.”

“What?”

“Jason and Em.”

“Why?”

“The laws you learned about—the ones that prevent humans and vampires being together long term—they’re out-dated and downright unfair. Jason wanted to change them instead of changing Emily. And I refused to help, even though, with my position on the council and my knowledge of the law, I had the power. I told him to get over her—that she was nothing but a human.”

I covered my mouth. “How could you?”

“She was just a human to me—not worthy of the rigmarole I’d have to endure to make that kind of change.”

“The same rigmarole your uncle is going through right now?”

He nodded thoughtfully, his eyes becoming dark with something I couldn’t distinguish. “It won’t work,” he said after a while. “The case between Jason and I has merely cemented their notion that humans and vampires cannot mix. They won’t change the laws now.”

“Is that what Jason intended by kidnapping me?”

David looked right into my face, gently curling a strand of hair around my ear. “How do you say his name that way? How can you speak of him so casually when, a few months ago, the mention of him saw you dark?”

I swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“Has he made a presence in your life?”

“No.” I doubled back. “You would’ve seen that if so.”

He nodded, leaving both hands in his lap. “I guess so.”

“Maybe I’ve been conditioned to tolerate terror now.”

David smiled. “From hanging out with Éric de la Rose?”

I smiled too, remembering the way his feet left the ground when Jason punched him. “Yeah, he’s pretty offensive.”

“He’s a typical vampire.”

“And a creep.”

“Yes.” David groaned, exhaling deep enough that his breath chilled my knee through my jeans. “But, despite his moronic behaviour, and as much as I hate to say this, he’s not the kind of guy who’d have taken you to Karnivale to kill you or let you get hurt.”

“I know.”

He nodded. “But, he’s also not really qualified to be watching out for you either. He’s lucky my brother was there to save you tonight, or this would’ve ended very badly for him.” I cringed a little, looking at David’s tight fists, thinking of what Jason said he’d do if Eric got me killed.

“Strangely, I’m glad Jason was there, too.”

The fists tightened.

“I’m sorry. I know that’s sick.”

“How do you feel—about what he said to you?”

“Who?”

“Jason. About his...his being in love with you.”

“I—” I rubbed my hand along my cold arm and let myself acknowledge the fact that, under me, my jeans were saturating my brand new mattress. “I haven’t had a chance to process it yet.”

David nodded and held his arm out. In my mind, as we laid back, wet on the soft bed, a song began to play; smooth, rhythmic, giving a kind of presence I remembered feeling when watching a film one day—set in the eighties; a boy and a girl, Bon Jovi posters on the wall, teased hair and childhood innocence. Homely, safe, comfortable, as though nothing would ever change.

I rested my hand to his chest, my ear where his heart should be beating but sat silent, still, left behind in a life he no longer lived. It had become strange to me again, to feel the absence of heat, not so much that he was cold but just that he wasn’t warm. I listened to the whir of his quiet, comfortable breath—comfortable, finally, with me again.

And as the homely feeling spread out around me, occupying every space in my room, I finally acknowledge the pain I’d felt without him—like a hunger that won’t quit twisting in your gut, like an ache that refuses to numb. I felt as though I was tying a blindfold around my eyes, hiding myself, breath by breath, from the world outside—the world that, in a few days, would take him away from me again.

The cold of his wool jumper warmed, like tepid water, under my cheek, while the rest of his body, clothes and all, so wet, so chilly, felt like lying against a rain-soaked tree. It was even hard to slide my fingers over his skin, caught by the sticky remnants of the lake. So I walked them down the indents of his ribs, like stairs, until I finally came to rest on the sharp bones of his hip. He felt so different, as if he was someone new, unfamiliar to my touch.

“You haven’t been eating, have you?” I noted.