Page 90 of Blood Lovers

“Steam…” This word floats out of my mouth like I’m hungry for it.

“Sounds nice, huh?”

“It’s a spa?”

“See, you’re not a horrible guesser.”

“We’re going to a spa. Wait. Are we going Dutch?”

“What’s Dutch?”

“You know. I pay for me, you pay—”

“No.” Then he laughs, like this is the most ridiculous idea ever. “You’re not paying for anything. So don’t worry about that.”

“Hmmm.” I settle back into my seat, kind of angling myself against the door as I cross my legs and arms.

“What’s that for?”

“I’m starting to think you’re loaded and I might’ve just hit the jackpot.”

“Are we getting married?”

“How big is the diamond?”

He’s smiling so big, and even though I know he’s running hot and that’s why his face is flushed, I think he’s a little bit excited about this new fantasy of ours. “How big do you need it to be?”

“Diamonds are overrated. When we get married, I would like our promise to come in the form of bl—”

And I almost say it. I almost say ‘blood.’ What the actual fuck, Syrsee!

“A what?” Ryet is laughing at me.

Blood lovers, blood lovers, blood lovers…

“Syrsee?”

“Huh?”

He’s looking at me with a new kind of interest. “Are you OK?”

“Fine, why?”

“You kind of… spaced out for a moment.”

“Oh, no.” I wave my hand through the air. I don’t know why I do that. It never clears anything away. “I was just stuck on the image of us getting married.”

The next thing I know Ryet is veering the truck into a scenic pulloff that overlooks some too-gorgeous-to-describe snow-covered mountain valley.

“What are you doing?”

“I just…” He shakes his head, then puts the truck in park and turns in my direction. “I know we’re having a good time, but if this is getting weird—”

“Getting weird?” I almost guffaw.

“Just tell me. We don’t have to do this, Syrsee. We’re not really running away. It’s an overnight, right? We’re gonna have a nice dinner, and maybe dance a little, drink, go back to the room and fuck—”

“Wait.” I put up a hand. “We have to have dinner and drinks before we can fuck?”