Read Online Real Vampires Don't Sparkle by Amy Fecteau - Free Book Online Page B

sound of another engine revving. He had begun to adapt to his altered hearing, learning to ignore the small noises, like the sound of his clothes rubbing together. He had trouble with his increased sensitivity to light, though. Quin kept his house dim, but Matheus still got irritated at being blinded by a streetlamp. Not an issue at the moment, what with being trapped in the back of a pedophile’s dream van, but realizing he saw Quin’s features perfectly despite the lack of light still disconcerted Matheus.
    “What’s going on?” he asked.
    “They’ll leave us here for the rest of the night,” Quin said. “Someone will come along during the day to unlock the door. The hunt starts tomorrow night.”
    “Oh.”
    The sound of the engine faded into the distance. Matheus scooted backward until his shoulders knocked against the wall. Drawing his legs up, he rested his wrists on his knees. He stared into the middle distance, letting the silence grow heavy around him. The quiet sank into him, deep into his chest, filling in the porous sections of his bones like wet concrete. Quin remained still; Matheus had seen marble statues with more life in them. The minutes drifted past, each one longer than the last. Bereft of distractions, Matheus couldn’t avoid thinking about the past.
    “I’m terrified all the time,” he said, softly, almost unaware that he spoke aloud.
    “Of me?” Quin asked.
    Matheus shook his head. “Of myself. I’m not strong enough for this. I’m weak. I’ve always been weak.” And his father had never let him forget it.
    “You’re not weak,” Quin said. He sounded puzzled, the wrinkle between his eyebrows returning.
    “I am.”
    “Sunshine, you’re too damn stubborn to be weak.”
    Matheus let out a snort. Closing his eyes, he shook his head again, unable to stop the small, rueful smile. The longer he knew Quin, the more certifiable he became.
    “You keep telling me to accept my new life, yet you call me Sunshine,” he said, pressing his fingertips over his eyelids. Bright dots of color flashed in the darkness.
    “Well, like I said before, it suits you.”
    “Right, because I’m just an endless delight. Joy and light, that’s me.”
    “Sunshine isn’t about happiness.” Quin pried Matheus’ fingers loose, tilting his chin up to meet Quin’s eyes, only a sliver of amber visible around the pupil. He didn’t blink; he didn’t breathe, and Matheus found he could not, either. “It’s life. Bright and overwhelming and beautiful and harsh and painful. Humans delight in it. Our kind fear it. Everything in this world revolves around it. It dictates all that we are and there is no escape.”
    The wind picked up, sending the van swaying like a rowboat on the ocean. Quin’s fingertips pressed into Matheus’ temple, a feather touch firm enough to fix Matheus in place. Matheus had never felt so
looked at
in his life. Quin’s gaze sank in, fizzing like static under his skin. The cold metal of the van fell away, trapping them both in a strange bubble. The moment stretched into two, then four, then eight.
    Finally, the edges of Quin’s lips quirked up. “Plus, you know, your hair.”
    Matheus knocked his hands away, released at last. “You are, without a doubt, the most insane person I have ever met,” Matheus said. “And really, that’s saying something.”
    “It’s so shiny.” Quin grinned.
    “Stop talking about my damn hair.”
    “Seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone quite so…blond.”
    “Shut up.”
    Matheus didn’t understand the fixation with blonds. Many people had blond hair. If nature hadn’t accommodated, the local grocery store sold boxes in shades from honey to ash. Matheus didn’t know when the blond mythos began, but he wanted to find the original author and punch him or her in the gut. If he had to listen to Quin rattle on about his hair for the next hundred years, someone would get hurt. And since Matheus had the athletic acumen of a sea