Chapter 11: Sunday Dusk

I woke in the dark with a cold hand on my hip and a quiet voice saying my name.

"What time is it?"

"Dusk. Ten after five. The sun went down ten minutes ago."

"You slept all day."

"I always do."

"I watched you sleep for an hour first," I said, "and then I fell asleep too."

"I know. You talk."

"I do not talk."

"You said 'Abercrombie' twice and 'soup' once."

I laughed into the pillow, and he rolled me over and kissed me, a long slow kiss.

"I'm hungry," he said.

"There's a refrigerator full of bags in the kitchen."

"I know what's in the refrigerator."

"So go..."

"Molly."

I looked at him.

His eyes were very dark, but his face was gentle, and his hand on my hip had gone still.

"I haven't fed from a person since 1999," he said.

"I wouldn't ask you. I wouldn't ever."

"I'm only telling you the truth about why I'm looking at you like this."

My pulse ran faster in my wrist.

He heard it.

I saw him hear it.

"I filled out the donor form on Friday," I said.

"What?"

"Form 4-D. Registered adult donor. Brenda notarized it at lunch. She didn't ask why."

"You filed it before you asked me on a date."

"I filed it after I decided to ask you on a date. There was a difference of about an hour."

He stared at me.

Then he made a small helpless noise and put his face in my neck.

"Say it," he said. "Say what you want. Please."

"I want you to feed from me."

"Where?"

"My neck. And I want you inside me while you do it."

His breath didn't come, because it never did, but his whole body shook.

"You're certain."

"I have never been so certain about anything in my life. Cyrus. Do it."

He kissed me first, slowly, until I was melting under him.

His hand slid down my body and found me wet and ready.

Two of his fingers moved inside me, slow and then not slow, until my back came up off the bed.

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