Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 116220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 581(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Or himself?
And what did Kyle have to prove to anyone in this room? To Brock and his stupid teammates? To his school or his coach or his parents?
What did he have in this life that was worth salvaging? It was all ruined. The next morning, everything would come out. There would be consequences, serious ones. Brock would most certainly follow through with his promise now.
Kyle’s life was over.
Even still: “I just … realized something,” said Kyle as he continued to stare down at Brock.
That Brock’s hairline is terrible and he should consult a stylist?
“I’m tired of this life.” Kyle looked at the other members of his team, adrift in thoughts. “I’m … I’m tired of fighting. With them. With my parents. All of it.”
Kyle …
“I know. You’re going to say no. You’re going to deny me yet again. You’re going to have a hundred reasons about blood, morals, nightmares, bullshit, I don’t care.” He brought his eyes to Tristan’s, his heavy, tired eyes. “I feel the most myself when I’m with you. I was already dead, Tristan, dead in all the ways that count. I don’t belong here. I never did. Not in this life, not with this team, not with my family … none of it. At all.” He swallowed. “I want it, Tristan.”
Tristan, for once, did not say no. He merely kept his misty blue stare on Kyle, listening, watching, waiting.
“I want it,” he repeated.
He felt brave. He always did around Tristan.
He decided to prove it by making the first move. Leaning forward, he pushed his lips onto Tristan’s—their first kiss.
When their lips touched, it was perfectly soft and inviting. His lips were cool, refreshing, clean, perfect. Nothing like Kyle imagined. No blood. No repulsion. No strangeness or coldness.
Their lips belonged together, a perfect complement.
Tristan gripped the back of Kyle’s head at once with his otherworldly strength, pulling him close.
The kiss deepened.
The football team continued to watch in silence. Hanging around, one might say. Silent witnesses, as always.
Kyle found himself on his back as Tristan crawled over him on the long bench, kissing him even harder.
The team continued to sleep, fading away, not even there.
Suddenly, they were in the middle of the gymnasium. Kyle had his back against the cold hard wall under the basketball net. Tristan’s hands were exploring his body, digging in and out of his letterman jacket, dragging over his skin, clinging, desperate.
It was almost painful, the intensity of their kisses.
In the darkness, they were just vague shapes.
Nothing to distract. Nothing to define. Only passion freed in the dark, unfiltered, allowed to be expressed without bounds.
Kyle found himself in the field outside the gymnasium as Tristan pressed kisses all over his face, his cheeks, his chin, then down to his neck. Kyle let out a moan that boomed across the fresh-mowed grass like thunder. Even the moon heard it.
Then they were outside Kyle’s house, pressed to the side of it, to the brick, a foot from his parents’ bedroom window. “You taste so clean, so pure, so … g-glassy …” whimpered Kyle.
You taste like sweat, worry, and innocence, returned Tristan.
“Will you bite me?” gasped Kyle. “I want you to taste me. I know you’ll like it. I know you want it.”
Kyle Amos, don’t you dare.
“Fucking bite me,” he growled.
When Tristan’s teeth came for Kyle’s neck, he felt a pinch of fear and regret, lancing him through his chest, like ice. Then he felt Tristan’s tongue instead, licking him at the sensitive spot between his shoulder and ear, making him buckle slightly, soft tingles of pleasure everywhere, invigorating him.
Did he bite?
I have never regretted a single drop of blood, whispered Tristan into Kyle’s ear, as soft as poetry, but every time I taste, I regret it.
“That makes no sense,” breathed Kyle.
Then Tristan’s teeth took hold of his earlobe.
He felt the sweet, deep, perfect prick of teeth puncturing.
It was pain for half a second.
Then pleasure, everywhere.
You’ve done it, groaned Tristan as he licked, as he nipped, as he licked some more. You’ve gone and opened the door.
“Tristan … I think I love you.”
They were on Kyle’s bed. The sheets were ripped off and flung aside. Something loud fell from the dresser. Pillows and books and math homework made homes all over the room as Tristan and Kyle wrestled together on the bed.
Kyle and his burning heat.
Tristan and his cool, soft fingertips.
Kyle, came Tristan’s words between their kisses, made red from the blood on Kyle’s lips, if I ever forget to say it …
“I love you,” moaned Kyle.
How lost I was, how incredibly lost I was …
“I want us to be together forever.”
And how complete you have made me, at long last, how you made all the pain of my life worth it, my miserable little life …
Tristan’s teeth sank in deeper.
Kyle cried out.
A cry of elation. A cry of despair.