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)
After a short while, the bed creaks as Tristan slides off of it. Rest, Tristan tells him. I will be right back. I think I will get a little air, run an errand or two, perhaps shop for a few things. This place could use something sweet, soft, like a teddy bear in a little tuxedo, or a dandelion in a vase. I’ll take care of everything. Just rest, and don’t be alarmed if you dream of nothing, you can just pretend dreams bore you now. Face the abyssal void with an open imagination. Count those sheep. I’ll be back in twenty.
Kyle can’t be bothered to lift as much of a finger off of the bed anyway, too spent, too dead.
Count those sheep, my love, count them. Start with one.
One sheep. Two.
One day passes. And two.
Then a week.
Yes, our new front desk friend Ms. Nanette will allow us to stay here as long as we wish, says Tristan one night as he meticulously adjusts the antenna of the motel TV, attempting to get some channels to come in, but maybe Room 208 of this two-star motel wasn’t where I planned for us to spend eternity. Can we aim a little higher? The star rating is rounded up, by the way.
“Will I still be able to, uh … come …?”
Tristan stops fussing with the antenna abruptly and turns. Well, someone’s certainly had a change of mood.
“I can still breathe,” notes Kyle. “I can eat. Pee. Do bodily functions. But can I …?”
Tristan sits on the end of the bed. There is a lot even I can’t answer, Kyle. I hate to say it, but I was turned too young to retain any of the wisdom I was taught about my miserable new life. Many of the things I know, I’ve discovered on my own. Such as the aging thing or what I can or can’t eat. My ability to make people sleep—the Lull, I affectionately call it. Or my sensitivity to others’ heartbeats.
“Will I be able to do something special, too?”
Someday, I hope. Smelling blood, increased sight and hearing, sensing heart rates, that’s all the first-level stuff, the inherent traits, the basics. Those develop very quickly. My Lull, that’s the second-level stuff. Those things, they take time to discover.
“So I’ll eventually be able to put people to sleep, too?”
Maybe, maybe not. My dead abductor mother, she said when we come to discover our secondary gifts, that’s when we know what kind of—well, what kind of ‘employee’ we are.
It seems Tristan, too skittish even still to say the word, has veered back into using his “Death’s employee” metaphor again.
“There are different kinds of us?”
Three, to be precise. Isn’t that a nice number? Very fairytale, everything in threes. Three wishes, three fairies, three little carpenter piglets who can’t build a proper house to save themselves from a wolf. My Lull, it comes from the mind. That’s one of the three types, of the mind. Your gift may come from a different place.
“What are the other—?”
Are you sure you want all this schooling so quickly? It’s still your very first week of being employed. Seriously, you just left school, life, and tedium behind. Why do you insist on diving right back in? Are you taking notes or something? There’s no exam for this, there’s only forever to learn. It’s summer vacation now, forever.
“I just …” Kyle looks off. “I want to know everything.”
Tristan takes hold of Kyle’s hand on the bed. The two of them stare at their linked fingers. Want to have sex? We might be horny forever, we were afflicted at such formative ages.
“I don’t feel horny. I don’t feel anything.”
At once, Tristan’s lips are upon his neck. Kyle’s eyes rock back as he enjoys the sensation of cool lips brushing across his skin. He feels a kiss near his face. Another kiss lower. When the lips part, Kyle feels teeth dragging over his shoulder.
Then the slightest, gentlest nip. Kyle sighs. “Tristan …”
Too much?
“Not enough.”
He bites harder. A sensation unlike anything Kyle has ever known spiders through his body, filling him with excitement.
It is quickly becoming his new weakness.
The touch of Tristan’s teeth, and Kyle is at once in a trance of obsessive delight.
Again?
Kyle’s fingers weave into Tristan’s hair, grabbing hold. He feels like he’s floating. “Is it good? Do I … Do I taste good?”
I’m addicted to everything about you, Kyle.
They roll over on the bed. Kyle gazes down at Tristan with a drunken smile, overcome. And those beautiful misty blue eyes stare back up, a smirk on Tristan’s pale pink lips.
“I don’t know if I’m ready to bite back,” Kyle confesses.
There’s a time for everything, no rush. Let’s just play for now.
Kyle descends upon Tristan’s lips, kissing him. The tiniest of nips invites a taste of blood, and Kyle can’t say whose it is. They roll over again, Tristan on top now, Kyle below, and then lips unite again. The excitement that storms within Kyle’s chest is nearly crushing. Is this what real happiness feels like? Heavy and crushing and impossible to bear?