Evolution (2 page)

“’Cause I don’t want to die tonight. Give me the keys.” He came around the car and stood at my door as I opened it. I left the keys in the ignition. The man motioned to the passenger side. “Get in or I’m leaving without you, kid.” He folded his tall frame into the driver’s seat and adjusted the seat’s position.

“Genesis,” I said as I slid into the car on the passenger side. “My name is Genesis. My friends call me Gene.” The man stared at me again. I wished I could see him better. “What?”

“I don’t care what your name is.” He leaned over, yanked the seat belt across my shoulder and over my chest, then buckled it.

My cheeks felt hot. “Thanks.”

“Whatever, punk. Who names their kid Genesis? Hippies?” The man started the car, obviously not wanting a response. Soon we’d left our makeshift parking lot behind and downtown passed by. I hadn’t thought to tell him where I lived, and he didn’t ask.

“Are you hijacking my car?”

“This piece of crap? Good idea. I bet I can get $200 for it at the junkyard. But I’ll have to push you out. Wait, let me speed up.”

I laughed, because his sarcasm was obvious. Why couldn’t I have met someone like him in high school? I might have stayed. He was snarky and good-looking in the dim light of the car. One of the many reasons I’d left school was because I was different. Not just in seeing things, but in who caught my attention. I’d been beat up half a dozen times, shoved into lockers, even half-drowned in the pool. Most of the time, just being me sucked. Now, sitting in the car, close to a guy who could have been the star of some hit teen miniseries, I was thinking maybe being me wasn’t so bad, even if he only spoke to me for a few minutes.

Then there were the other things I saw, like the crazy colors that surrounded people, called auras. Only this guy had no colors—he was just dark. Odd. The darkness still shadowed his eyes in an eerie sort of way. “I can sing for you. Devon says my voice helps chase away the shadows sometimes.”

“Who’s Devon? Your boyfriend?”

“Lead singer of Wild Park. My band opened for them last night. They’ve sold a couple million CDs. They’re more mainstream than we are, kind of pop. Gotta get your breaks where you can, you know.” I paused to study the black edges around his eyes again. “Devon’s got shadows too. Like the ones around your eyes.” The adrenaline was beginning to wear off. “I don’t have a boyfriend at the moment. And my hair is pink ’cause I tried to dye it red, but it didn’t work.”

“Yeah, the hair screams gay.”

“Got a problem with queers? Or are you an asshole to everyone?”

“Only to guys with pink hair who try to run me over.”

So, everyone. At least he wasn’t a phobe. “I’m sorry. Stuff like this always happens to me.”

He raised a brow and glanced my way. “You run people over often?”

“Not that. Just stuff.” Between the ghosts, the shadows, and the other crap I saw, something weird was always going on in my life. “I was just trying to get home ’cause I’m tired. Stay away from the shadows and stuff.”

“Doesn’t everyone have shadows? The whole light-reflection thing?”

“Not the same kind of shadow. Devon’s move. His don’t like me much. Yours are dark like that too.”

“So you see shadows, like a living type of shadow, on me, right now, when there’s no light.”

“Yeah. Can you see okay? They cover your eyes.”

He paused and glanced my way with a strange look on his face. A heavy wave of sleepiness poured over me. “You look tired—you should sleep. You’re so not normal. Seeing things that aren’t there. You should sleep.” The guy’s voice faded away abruptly as sleep carried me into vague dreams.

I
DON
’
T
know how much time passed before I felt the bed shift beside me and wondered how I’d gotten home. The fact that I obviously wasn’t alone didn’t seem all that worrisome for some reason. Odd, since I wasn’t the kind of guy to bring strangers home, but my brain was a little foggy, so I wasn’t concerned.

A warm body curled up beside me, feeling slightly wet, like just from a shower and smelling like the outside after a bad rainstorm. I opened my eyes but just saw a shadowy face in the dark close to mine. The moment was sensual and intimate, even though I couldn’t see him clearly.

His lips brushed my cheek, planting small kisses all over my face until finally dipping down to lick at my collarbone. The firm body nestled against mine gave me the confidence to reach forward and touch back. His hair was short, but long enough to grip, and had a slight curl. It felt thicker than most, but product-free and slightly damp. I traced the smooth expanse of his hot, sculpted flesh, while his lips found my mine. He could kiss, and I’d never imagined a kiss could be so sweet.

One of his hands tickled my spine, stroking down my vertebrae as though he were counting them. Each touch made me pull him closer for more contact. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t see him. His warmth felt good. The closeness so heavenly I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. How long had it been since anyone touched me like I was human and not some freak?

Something in my brain told me we were right together. As the slow torture of warmth built and built, wave upon wave; we rocked against each other like we were all that was left in the world. His arms wrapped so tightly around me I could barely breathe, and that was okay. I could go into the final darkness after a moment like this—let rebirth take me into the next life with one last, amazing memory.

I closed my eyes as his lips found my neck again, this time nipping with a slightly painful sting of teeth. My soul took flight into a blessed state of near unconsciousness.

I wanted to feel him fly away with me, wanted to celebrate the heat of him on my skin and his willingness to hold me. But the encounter seemed to end as quickly as it had begun, leaving me in a waking dream. The loneliness of sleep took me back to where sensual reruns of the encounter circled in many exciting twists.

Kerstrande

I
T
HAD
been an unexpected night. I’d never been hit by a car before, and it had hurt more than I thought it would. A couple of broken ribs and a crack in my skull weren’t that big of a deal. My sire had done worse. Those sort of things just took time and blood to heal.

The kid had been easily fooled. Must not know many vampires.

Genesis. Who names their kid after a book in the bible? He couldn’t be some sort of religious freak, not with that pink hair, orange jacket, and the purple eye shadow over his large amethyst eyes. Everything about him screamed gay, from the crazy multicolored hair to the bright blue shoes with mini rainbows colored on them.

I’d been out looking for food, only to be rewarded with a fairy pop princess. He sang? Odd, since his voice was pretty deep for a guy so flamboyant. He was probably into techno or some other bullshit.

Felt good, though. Responsive little thing came alive in my arms and never pushed me away once. Even when I bit him. And sweet Jesus, he had tasted like heaven.

I drank a little too long. Should have pulled away sooner. But how long had it been since I’d actually enjoyed a feeding? In fact, had I ever before?

Anya’s bloody, lifeless eyes flashed through my memory. Yeah, I’d never enjoyed it before. Just because I was a monster didn’t mean I had to like playing the part. I had to eat to live. I got that. Had it ingrained the hard way, unfortunately, but still hadn’t made peace with it.

Only now, while I watched the kid, hoping his fast breathing would even out, I realized that maybe, just maybe, there was more to being a vampire. Maybe I had to drink from flaming musicians to satisfy the craving. If they all gave me peace like this one had, I’d stalk a whole city of them. I could read the headlines now, probably write them myself: “Pretty Queer Boys Everywhere Run Scared from Vampire Stalker.”

I laughed to myself, wondering where the levity had come from. The kid’s breath settled, and he fell off into REM sleep. Maybe I’d given him a good dream or two, even if he’d only been half awake. Now that he seemed to be safely sleeping and not dead, I lay back to let myself drift off, thanking my fortune for an easy meal and the first company in months.

Chapter 2

Genesis

T
HE
sun raged through an open window with a glare powerful enough to rouse the dead. I expected to wake in my own bed or even my car. Instead, I stared at an unfamiliar ceiling from my spot in a large, really firm mattress. A thick, blue blanket wrapped me up like a sausage. It had the earthy smell of a summer night after a rainstorm. Thankfully, the room appeared to be absent of all nonliving types. And for the first time in months, I actually felt rested.

Memories of the dream repeated in my head. Had it been a dream? It felt so real, but my dreams were often that way. If it hadn’t been a dream, the encounter must have been with the guy I hit with my car. What little I’d seen of him had been beautiful, minus all the bruises and cuts from a car accident, of course. The idea of touching him again, having him hold me, made the sleepiness disappear pretty quickly. Dream or not, I’d remember it for a while for sure.

From beyond the partially open doorway to the left, the sound of a gurgling coffeepot drew me from the comfortable bed. Coffee seasoned the air with a heavenly scent. I followed my nose—happy to see I was still dressed, even if my clothes were rumpled—to the kitchen, where the victim of my haphazard driving leaned against the counter.

Something about the way he stood, or maybe it was the fake light of the kitchen’s hanging lamps, made him look familiar. He was good-looking in a Nordic-plus-something-much-more-foreign way. Like a European pop star might be. His hair was a strong gold-blond color with red highlights, giving it a copperish glow. His eyes were a pale brown, unshadowed this morning. He was tall, probably around six feet, broad shouldered, long-legged, face a little angular and sharp. His clothes were not something off a rack, and the kitchen was high-end, granite counters and stainless steel. He came from money or was money. It was all the same anyway. Yet I felt like I’d met him years ago and was finally reunited with an old friend or lover. He couldn’t have been older than eighteen or nineteen, but he stood like a man twice our age, heavy, as though the weight of the world lay on his shoulders.

“Stare much?” The snark was back.

I had to peel my gaze away from the charcoal-gray sweater that hugged his arms to look up into his stormy amber-colored eyes. “Thanks for letting me sleep and all that.” I crossed the room to lean against the counter beside him. The dream I’d had last night made heat rise in my cheeks. Had I been dreaming of him? Would a guy like this really kiss me? I could imagine those arms wrapped around me, his lips on mine.

“Your shadows are gone—that’s good.” I looked around the stylish condo; yeah, he had money all right. Leather furniture, big screen TV…. I was so out of my league. At least the place was absent of Preservation Group paraphernalia. Did he live with someone? Maybe an older lover who paid for a sweet place like this? “I don’t remember getting here or anything.” The memory of nearly having an out-of-body experience made me shudder. Maybe it hadn’t been a dream. “Did we do anything?”

“Do?”

“You and I didn’t….”

“Does your ass hurt?” He growled at something he must have seen on my face, though the sound of that low rumble had heat rising to my cheeks. I shifted, hoping he wouldn’t notice I was probably beet red. “You’re not girly enough for me.”

Yet he gave off body language that said otherwise. He stood close enough for me to lean forward if I wanted. I guess that’s why people instantly know I’m queer. Can’t stop from looking at what I like. Instead, I picked at invisible lint on my hoodie. “Nice place… yours?”

“No. I randomly break into other people’s apartments to abuse young men with pink hair and use the coffeemaker.” His sarcastic humor made me smile. He poured two cups of steaming brown liquid and added cream and sugar to both. He looked peaceful for a whole thirty seconds as he took that first sip. His eyes flicked to the second mug, and I wasted no time sucking down the wonderful brew. Real coffee, sweet Buddha. I’d been drinking the stuff since I was eleven, my mom telling me the whole time it would stunt my growth. The truth was that being Asian made me short, not drinking coffee, and I was pretty okay with that.

“Have we met before?” I finally asked, thinking I probably would have remembered meeting a guy like him before. He hadn’t gone to my high school, but there had been many schools in the area. Maybe I’d seen him at a show somewhere. Was he in the scene? He had the hands of an artist, which was broad enough to mean he could be a musician.

“Other than when you hit me with your car? No. And that’s an encounter I’d rather not repeat.”

“But I’ve seen you somewhere before.” Maybe he’d been to Down Low, the gay dance club where I waited tables. I wasn’t legally supposed to be working at the Down Low, since I was underage. But I’d be eighteen in a few months, and the cops rarely showed. When they did, I knew how to get the hell out. I brushed my hair back; it was probably a nest by now, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was so beautiful.