Page 18 of Little Fangs

Micah did a one-eighty spin. Wrapped in the blanket on one side, he pulled it tight around himself until his head was now facing up at me. “After so long together, you either realize you’re the same as them, and become just like them, or you realize you’re different, and—well, I was able to be different while Ludmila was there.”

“I’m sorry,” I told him. “I grew up different too, and maybe different to the point I tried to correct it by becoming the person I am now. And don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love the person I am, but sometimes things look bleak, and I’ve got remind myself just how far I’ve come. So, that’s what you’ve got to do.”

He nodded. “Except, I’ll be forever like this, and you’ll be—changing,” he said, lifting his head from my lap. He looked at me now, tilting his head as if spotting something on my face. “I don’t mean to say it like that, it’s just—”

“No, no, I get it,” I said, touching his chin. I cupped his face with my palm. “You’re special, Micah, and people are always wanting to bring down special people like you—and sometimes me.”

He nestled his face in my palm, nuzzling into my touch. “You really think I’m special?”

“I think you are.”

His top lip pushed out into a pout. “I just wish I had everything I used to have. And I know I’ve gotta leave, but I don’t want to go without them.”

I shook my head. “I don’t want you to go until I know you can look after yourself,” I told him. “You made yourself sick earlier, eating too much, and I don’t know if you’re able to properly sustain yourself yet.”

“You don’t mind me staying, do you?”

“Not at all, and—” I paused to press my teeth into my tongue slightly, keeping myself from speaking. “If I can help you get back everything you miss, I will, I promise.”

Micah recoiled. “No, no, you can’t,” he said. “You’d get hurt—they might hurt you.”

“Not if I go in the day.”

He puffed out his cheeks as if he was about to vomit again, still shaking his head. “They’ll still do it.”

“Hey, hey,” I said, watching his body waver from side to side. I placed both hands on his shoulders, keeping him somewhat in place. “I’m not going to get hurt. And I’ll get your things. Just tell me where they are. Draw me a map. I want to do this for you. I don’t want you to think about going back there.”

His eyes stared right into my soul, his shaking head now happening slower. “I’ll come with you, then,” he said. “But we’ve got to plan it properly, otherwise they’ll get you, and if they—if they get you, then they’re not going to let go of you. I promise, they’re not nice people, and they’re going to make you really hurt, like super badly.”

After a moment of him freaking out, it only spurred the want and need inside me to do this for him. The idea he was living his life in fear of those men wasn’t right, and they deserved to be punished for it. I didn’t know much about vampires or their laws—or lores—but I knew they couldn’t just go around leaving a mass grave of people. There had to be something in place for them to feed on without leaving bodies in their wake.

Micah eventually went to sleep, right there on my lap, as cartoons played on the TV. Misty kept a spot by the front door, almost like she was blocking the draft from coming in—or maybe she liked it, but to me, she was on watch. The way she’d been protective over Micah told me I needed to be as well, and even if she hadn’t, there was something about him that made me want to wrap my arms around him feel him, but I knew better than to fuck around with a vampire—right?

* * *

Waking in bed beside Micah was a gift, a secret pleasure I was currently taking in. His body beside mine, his hand occasionally reaching out as if trying to hug a pillow. I leaned into it and let him hug and hold an arm, occasionally tensing it to have him wiggle and squeeze back.

I knew he’d leave eventually, but until then, I was going to enjoy every moment he stayed. And learn a little more about vampires. Most of my knowledge came from town gossip, and even then, that was from the ladies at the market or in Bernie’s cafe.

When I tried to move out of bed, Micah held me like a weight.

“I don’t want to get up,” he said.

“You can stay,” I said.

“But I like it when you’re here,” he said.

I sank back into my spot on the bed, and he let go of my arm and tried looking away, but his eyes were on me, no matter how much he turned or tilted his head.

“Do you think we should talk about this?” I asked.

“Sorry,” he said, pulling the duvet up over his face and slicing his hand down the middle, trying to make it so that neither of us were touching now. “I know, I know.”

Tugging the front of the duvet down to see him, I said, “I like it.” My confession came quickly, taking him off guard, and I yanked the duvet down completely. “I like you being here. I like your comfort, and the way you take up space in my life.”

Continuing to pout, he let out a blubber. “You’re just saying that, so I don’t get upset.”

“Not at all. I’m saying it because you’re welcome here, in my life,” I told him. “I just—I don’t want to feel like I’m taking advantage of you. You’re vulnerable.”