Twenty
Brooke
I spent every moment I could with Jamie. We hung out in his room, talked, kissed, and watched movies on his computer. We skipped rocks and I flew around him with my wings. I wanted him and I wanted his blood. Sometimes it was hard to decide what I wanted more. It wasn't like when I was with Ivan. That had been fast, hard and relentless. Jamie was soft, warm and sweet. He melted slowly on my tongue and left an aftertaste that I never wanted to forget.
Sunday afternoon we were lying on the giant stump in the middle of our little clearing. I'd come to think of it as our place. I was on my stomach and he was tracing shapes on my back.
“I still can't get over the fact that you don't have fangs.”
“Why?”
“Because you're not really a vampire without them.”
“I've told you already, that's a myth.”
“Well, for someone who is obsessed with blood, you haven't tied me to a tree and taken mine.”
“I'd want to tie you to a tree for different reasons.” I turned my face to see his reaction.
He grinned. “Well, you could. I just don't know why you don't. Why I'm so special?”
“You get me, Jamie. I don't know how, but we're the same. Even though you're human and I'm not.” He turned over and scooted off the stump.
“I should get home. Cassie's working on the baby's room today and I said I'd help.”
That was the one thing about Jamie that separated him from me, in addition to the human, nonhuman thing. His heart was made of pure gold. Mine wasn’t.
He started walking with me beside him. He bumped me with his hip, trying to throw me off balance. I laughed and bumped him back, causing him to take a dive into the ground. Sometimes I forget how strong I was.
“Ouch,” he said, picking himself up. I gave him a hand, but stopped when I saw that a branch had ripped through his palm and blood was dripping on the ground.
Precious, precious blood. Jamie's blood.
The smell hit me, and the next thing I knew, I grabbed his hand and stuck it in my mouth.
“Ow, Brooke, let go.” I sunk my teeth into his flesh, biting until I almost hit bone. I sucked hard, the blood filling my mouth and streaming down my throat, hot and wet and wonderful. I sucked harder, and something started hitting me in the head. A voice said my name over and over.
“Brooke! You have to stop. Look at me!” Something punched the side of my head and I went to glare at whatever it was that was interrupting my enjoyment of the best blood I'd ever had.
It was Jamie. The moment I met his blue eyes I choked, my jaw letting go of his hand.
“Oh, shit. Oh shitshitshit.” I stepped away from him, wiping the blood that dripped down my chin. I didn't want to waste it, but I couldn't have it. I wiped the rest of it on a wide leaf.
“Oh my God,” Jamie said, looking at his hand. It was pretty mangled, with a clear imprint of my teeth.
“I'm so sorry.”
“No, it was my fault,” he said in a shaky voice. He had lost enough blood that he was probably lightheaded. He stared at his hand as if it didn't belong to him. I saw him start to go over, and I caught him before he fell again.
He didn't regain consciousness until we were in the truck. I searched his glove box and found a small first aid kit. As fast and as gently as I could, I bandaged his arm, holding it above his head to stop the bleeding.
“Brooke?” His voice was weak and his eyelids fluttered.
“It's okay. It'll be okay.”