Jamie looked as if he wanted to sit, but didn’t know where. The room was only large enough to accommodate a bed, a small desk and a chair. I moved over on the bed, hoping he would sit next to me. He considered for a moment, putting his book bag over the back of his chair. I patted the space next to me.

“So this is where the magic happens?” I said.

“Not exactly. You're only the seventh girl I've ever had in here, and two of those were my mother and sister.”

“Lucky number seven,” I said.

He was nervous, his heart jumping around. I liked that I made him nervous. He didn't know it, but he almost made me nervous. If I could get nervous, he would be the one to make me so.

“What do you want, Brooke?” He wouldn't let it go.

“Honestly, Jamie? I want to spend time with you. I just feel so... lost.”

“What happened to the one who made you like this?”

“He's gone.”

“Gone?”

“He's not here anymore. He didn't die, because he was already dead, I guess. So I guess that makes me dead.”

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“You don't look dead.” He touched my knee, not meeting my eyes.

“I don't feel dead,” I said, touching his shoulder and moving my hand across his chest, feeling his heartbeat through his shirt. It sped up, and I smiled.

“What brought you here? I know you're here for a reason, to find someone. You can tell me.” His voice was sweet and pleading, and I wanted to tell him, but I didn't know what he'd say.

“I was trying to find someone, but instead I found you. The other things don't matter anymore.”

“Are you sure?” He finally looked at my face, but removed his hand from my leg. My palm was still against his chest.

“Yeah. I am. I was looking for something I didn't need to find.”

“So what are you going to do now?”

“Stay. If you want me to.” I took my hand away, waiting for his reaction.

“I do,” he said, cupping one side of my face. “You're not the only one who's lost.” His thumb caressed my lip and he leaned closer, as if he was going to kiss me. “You're not going to kill me, are you?” His fear was palpable, but also his wish to kiss me. It was like I could feel it in his skin.

“I'm going to try not to.” I hoped I'd said the right thing. I couldn't lie to him about something like that.

“I can't picture you hurting anyone.”

“I have. I've killed a lot of people.” My lips moved against his finger, and I wanted to flick out my tongue and taste his skin. I knew just what it would taste like. Cinnamon and sweat and life.

“I don't want to think about that.”

“I don't, either.” I didn't want to think about anything but his lips on mine and his hands on my body. I wanted him everywhere. I wanted him to burn away the memories of all the bad things I'd done. This was the first time I was ashamed of all the things I'd done since I'd become immortal. I hadn't thought about the lives, about the people. They didn't matter. I'd justified it in my mind.

I thought back to that moment when I'd almost killed him. What if I had? I wouldn't be sitting on this bed with this boy who somehow was scared of me, but still wanted to kiss me.

He was leaning in when we heard the door slam downstairs. I'd heard the car coming, but I didn't want to ruin the moment with him.

Jamie sighed and pulled away.

“Here we go,” he said, getting up and going down the hall. His father had a beer in one hand and was pointing the other hand at Cassie. Her polo shirt did little to conceal the growing bump under it. She smelled like French fries and grease.

I stayed down the hall, but just out of sight.

“I'm not going to have you bumming in my house anymore.”

“Where am I supposed to go?”

“I don't care. How about you move in with that loser that you spread your legs for?”

“Dad,” Jamie said in a quiet, but stern voice.

“You shut your face. This has nothing to do with you.” Jamie had told me about his dad and his drinking. I was all too familiar with living with an alcoholic. When things were good, you were always terrified they were going to get bad again. His dad had been doing well lately, but there was always that chance.

“Give me the drink, Dad,” Jamie said, holding out his hand. “You were doing so well.” Cassie stood next to Jamie, a show of sibling solidarity. I wished I'd had a sibling to help me like that.

“You can't tell me what to do in my own damn house. I'm the man of this family, and if I want a beer, I'm going to have one.”

“What about Mom? What about us?”

He swayed a little on his feet. Any minute he was going to go down. “All you do is take from me. I give and give and give, and all you do is take. Well, I'm going to take mine.”

“Dad, we've been trying to help you. Just give it to me.” Jamie motioned for the beer again, but his dad pulled back and tried to go for a punch.

That was it for me. I dove from my spot and grabbed his arm, bending it back.

“Who the hell are you?” He was strong for a human, but I was immortal and he had been drinking. I could snap every bone in his body with two of my fingers and not think twice.

“I swear to God, if you lay a hand on anyone else, ever again, I will kill you. Do you understand?” He struggled, but there was no way he could get free. I made sure I turned him so he saw my face.

Cassie gasped and clutched onto Jamie, no doubt wondering where the hell I came from and worried that I was going to hurt him. Oh, I was going to do more than that.

“Let me go, little girl.”

I pulled him toward my face and hissed at him so he got the full effect of how unnatural I was. “I'm not a girl. I'm your worst nightmare. You will get your act together, because as much as you don't deserve it, your family loves you and you treat them like garbage. It stops today. You will stop drinking. You will get off your ass and you will be the husband and father you should be. Have I made myself clear?”

“Fuck you.”

“Good luck with that. I'm going to ask you one more time.” I twisted his arm until it was almost at the breaking point. Just a little bit farther...

“Brooke. Enough.”

“Not yet,” I said, enjoying the pain on his face. “I could kill you right now and not care at all. But that boy over there loves you, so I won't. Why don't you save some of your self-pity for him? So, are you going to get your sorry life together?”

He tried to get free, but I had him good. He growled in frustration. His alcoholic breath would have choked me if I still had to breathe.




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