Vampire

He touches his fingers to my lips, cold as ice, and I shiver, though from the cold or some primal fear just starting to curl up my spine, I can’t yet tell. His eyes, black as pitch, stare into mine and promise me things I have no true concept of.

I want to speak, to call out to someone, anyone, because part of me, the part that fears predators in the night that used to lurk beyond the glow of the fire, knows that I am in trouble. That he is dangerous, despite his slim build, his gentle hands. They cup my shoulders as though they have rested there a thousand times before, as though he is a beloved friend.

“I am.” He whispers, his voice smooth and warm on the chill night air. Did I speak aloud, I wonder? Suddenly I can’t remember. Suddenly I don’t know why we’re standing in the chill October air, all alone but for a far off street light, my breath fogging the air. His isn’t, but my head is too fuzzy to recall if it’s supposed to.

“Forget.” His voice tells me, and I do. I am sure I do, because I can’t remember a name, only that I have one. Had one. Or did I?

“No.” His word is final, and I know I must listen to them, because his hands, colder than the air but oh so gentle, slip off my shoulders, and one slides down my arm to my wrist, where it curls into a strong grip that, even if I would try, I couldn’t break.

But I don’t try.

“Come.” His voice is still the warmest thing around me, and I lean toward it like a flower to the sun. He tugs gently, so carefully, on my wrist and I follow him as he begins to walk away from the lonely street light, into the ever expanding darkness.

My steps falter for a beat, a word floating through my head, a word with so much danger and mystique attached to it that I shiver again, in fear and anticipation.

Vampire.