Back to You (5 page)

The sound of footsteps coming onstage attracts my attention; I am eager to see the show ahead.

When Vuk moves toward the center of the stage, not far from our table, my heart begins to race. The spotlight shines on one person in the bar, the only one on the stage with a guitar nestled on his lap.

He approaches the mic and strums a chord on the guitar.

“This song’s called
Another
Alternative
. The opening track of the album
Redemption
, dedicated to my little girl. Happy anniversary, Stella.”

He strikes the first chords, slowly, thoughtfully, but already full with emotion. The music builds to a crescendo and the tension in my body rises at the same pace as the emotion Vuk’s voice. It is low and rough, and a storm rages within me. Like lightning striking, it fires my skin and penetrates my bones, catching me off guard. I raise my eyebrows and perk my ears. I am so taken aback that I can’t even open my mouth. Vuk catches sight of me and throws me a tender, reassuring smile.

Applause ripples through the crowd with a few encouraging shouts here and there. My father and Scott don’t join in. They sit in silence, taking in the scene.

I watch Vuk anxiously, trying to remember to breathe, which is no easy feat. I realize that he has not taken his eyes off of me, his face intense and thoughtful. Blushing and flushed, I don’t make a sound, not wanting to miss a beat.

He strums his guitar, his hair soaking wet and unkempt as it falls into his eyes. He shrugs his shoulders at me innocently, recognizing my reaction. His movements are in perfect harmony with the sounds of the guitar. The crowd feels the song reaching its peak, and I can feel it too. Vuk doesn’t let us down. His playing becomes even more skillful as the desolate chords carry the crowd away. I instinctively cover my mouth with my hand, my eyes now half-closed, still fixed on him. His fingers stroke the strings with the tenderness he uses to caress my face. He never takes his eyes off me, reveling in my reaction.

Tears brim in my eyes, but I manage to blink them back before they flood out. The liquid emerald of his eyes seems to melt under my gaze, and I become dizzy, the blood rushing to my head. My breathing falters along in time with my irregular heartbeat. Sweat pours out and the troubled, carefully chosen words flow softly from his lips. He is beautiful under the white spotlight, as the words spill out and his vibe electrifies the crowd. The lyrics burn up my insides. My eyes are glued to him throughout his performance, tracing every contour of his face and the fluid movements of his fingers. Every time I feel my face flush, Vuk launches into another succession of notes, which blow me away on a rollercoaster ride of confusion and passion.

His voice. His voice sings a husky melody that seems to float from the mouth of an angel. I listen, enchanted. Only when I see the droplets glistening on my fingertips do I realize that tears are streaming down my face.

I close my eyes during the tormented, articulated closing bars. Pitch black surrounds me, his guitar caresses my every sense. I know that he is just a few feet away from me, watching me with his piercing eyes and his crooked smile.

The intense, drawn-out final note fills the air, echoing throughout the bar with overwhelming power, and the song ends. The lights come back up and wild applause rings out.

Vuk stares at me intensely, his gaze transmitting all the sincere, unconditional love he feels for me. Then he breaks into a coarse laugh. I beam at him.

Our eyes dive into each other and a charge runs through both our bodies, bonding us. His lip curls up, and I immediately realize how things are going to end.

I take a deep breath to compose myself, then turn to Bryan, who is marveling at Vuk’s talent.

“Now I get why you raved about his music,” Bryan says.

My eyes fall onto the program, with the opening act written as
Another Alternative
from the album
Redemption
by Vuk Wolf. I can’t stop smiling. Distracted, I suddenly realize that I didn’t even know Vuk had cut an album. I slice my finger open on the program.

“Shoot! What an idiot!” I examine my finger for the damage done. A minute droplet of blood flows from the invisible cut.

My eyes travel beyond my finger into the sea of people, and I see the last face I was expecting to see there. I recognize him, despite his back being turned to me, covered head to foot in motorcycle leathers. My jaw drops. His hands are moving animatedly as he talks to an unseen companion.

From what I can see, it has to be J.. He’s young, with brown hair sticking out of his helmet, and is the most beautiful creature alive, even from behind. I cannot imagine that anyone, including gods and goddesses, could remain unmoved before him. I can make out a corner of his perfect jawline, his skin is smooth and pale. Even from afar, it seems to have the consistency of ice. Just the thought of him sends shivers through my body. He takes a few steps in my direction, revealing the person he was talking to. It’s Donn, now lit up by the dim bar lights. Frowning, seemingly furious, dark circles surround Donn’s eyes. He grabs J. by the collar and barks something into his face at close range. His lips form a hard line, and deep creases line his forehead, crowned by golden brown hair. He tries to back out of Donn’s grip. I can’t understand if he’s yelling at him or just snarling into thin air by his face. But Donn keeps him locked in his steely grasp effortlessly. But it’s obviously harder than he’d like to let on.

Complications

J. struggles and
seems to have lost his mind. Or at least that’s what it looks like from the jerky movements his head makes. He seems to have launched himself into Donn and, through the noise of the party and
Iris
blasting out the speakers, I hear the clash of the impact. Two rocks crashing in a landslide.

“Oh, no!”

I cry, burying my head in my hands. But I keep my eye on the scene through the cracks of my fingers.

Donn’s chest heaves, and he’s breathing heavily. I leap down from my seat and work my way through the crowd to get to them as fast as I can. As I pass, some people smile at me, others wave. But I ignore them and head toward Donn, wanting to hear what is being said while hiding in the crowd.

“I see you’ve changed your mind,” says Donn, his voice as calm as ever.

J. nods, visibly upset.

“How can you bear it?” he roars. Then he takes a deep breath and looks around.

“I can’t help myself,” he growls. “I want her now!”

Donn’s stare is fixed on J’s. He’s immobile, focused.

“I know that,” he replies smiling before his face turns somber again. He raises an eyebrow, but instead of his usual impenetrable glare, he seems in a good mood. I wonder why, and Donn answers my question. His onyx eyes focus on J., but then travel past him to settle on me, his fingers almost piercing J.’s leathers to keep the vampire in his grasp.

Then he looks back at J..

“You have to deal with it,” Donn suggests, his voice cold and hard again. “You have to learn to keep control, especially when Stella’s around.” A shiver runs through J.

“You can do it,” continues Donn. “And it’s your only way out. Because if you hurt her, if you even try to lay a finger on her in an dishonorable, uncivilized way…” Donn’s lip curls, revealing his teeth, but his face remains dark. His voice leaves no room for doubt.

“Wait,” interrupts J. His voice becomes a shrill. He chokes and gets his breath back. He grasps his head between his hands, sweaty and soiled from the handlebars of his bike.

“I didn’t know what I was doing.” His voice sounds dull and raspy.

Donn’s head shakes almost imperceptibly, then his composure returns.

“Sure. I hope so,” he says, not unkindly. “You seem open to learn, and Aaron could explain the rules to you.”

“Aaron taught me everything.” J.’s fists clench.

“Then try to keep your cool,” Donn stresses sternly. “I gave you a chance. He vouched for your actions once. But we don’t give second chances.” I notice that he says “we” as if speaking for “the family.”

Donn’s stares at J. with a hard, threatening expression on his face. My heart suddenly begins to race.

J. takes a step back, perhaps terrified that his vague answer could trigger something horrific.

“Donn,” I call out cautiously, trying to make my way through the wall of people separating us.

When he hears my voice, he looks my way, a tormented look on his face, his lips locked in a deep furrow.

“Just listen to me, Donn Brooks.”

“Maybe we should get out of here?” Donn barks, gripping J.’s arm. It doesn’t sound like a suggestion.

I weave through the crowd near the bar, almost reaching Donn, when he turns toward me again. His eyes widen in surprise and I’m just a couple of steps away. Those empty, terror-filled eyes fix on me. J. darts off into the darkness of the storeroom before I can reach them, with Donn close at his heels. He grabs J. by the arm and drags him away by his leather jacket.

I’m about to dash into the storeroom, but Donn comes around the corner out of nowhere, alone. He quickly runs to my side, and appears as pale as a ghost. He bumps into me as he comes to a quick stop and curses. I lose my balance and almost fall to the ground, my legs twisted around. He breaks my fall with one arm, then quickly untangles my legs, one at a time.

I make an effort to get up, as he throws worried glances toward the storeroom doorway. He seems paralyzed. At the entrance of the short corridor is a dark figure, immobile.

He stretches out his arms to embrace me. But once in his arms, he turns me toward the light in the bar, as if he is using his body as a shield to protect me.

He gazes into me for an instant. He has managed to wipe away all the panic and tension that has built up in my body, thanks to his bizarre talent of controlling the emotions of people around him. He then nudges me into a quiet corner. I try to slip out of his embrace but he grips my wrist to keep me away from the crowd.

I no longer feel alone. Donn Brooks, the one and only vampire that manages to keep me under his spell, is by my side. His hand pulls my face and buries it deep into his chest. He nods to someone by the bar, telling them not to interfere. I try to look, but can only see and he doesn’t seem to be looking at us. Still with an arm around me, Donn seems calm, even if his teeth are showing and his nose flared up as if in warning.

The music drowns out my breathing. Around me, partygoers are eating, laughing, dancing, and totally unaware that they could soon be faced with a terrifying scene of danger, maybe even death.

Donn is studying something intently over my shoulder.

“I remember that kid,” he says in a low voice when he sees Bryan weaving through the tables. “He used to work here.”

“That’s right,” I confirm. “He just started working at The Rise in Boston.”

“The one who thought you were his girlfriend,” he jokes. “Is he still delusional?”

I watch Bryan heading toward me out of the corner of my eyes. “Some people don’t know how to take no for an answer,” I say, my eyes glancing at Donn briefly. I would almost have preferred it if Bryan had gone home, although I’d rather not be on my own with Donn.

“Persistence pays off,” Donn says.

“It’s usually pointless, though,” I add.

“It’s worked so far.”

“Some you win, some you lose.”

“Try to be a good girl, baby,” he warns, pronouncing each word carefully.

“I give up trying, I can’t compete.”

“You win, then,” he whispers, his voice tender, velvety. “I have no plans to corrupt your sweet innocence.”

I search for a retort, but Bryan comes around the table beside us.

“There you are,” he says, brushing off Donn with a glance. Donn eyes are like thunder, but he maintains control.

He looks totally out of place in Medford––too pale, too sharply dressed. Bryan’s head barely reaches his shoulders. I don’t want to think of how small I look next to him and the difference in years that show on his face. Both look at me and I anxiously wave a hand at Donn.

“Bryan, do you remember Mr. Brooks?”

“Sure, his face looks familiar,” he admits sharply, his eyes narrowing. There is a trace of irony in his tone, but he shakes Donn’s hand. “I’m a friend of Stella’s.”

“I’ve got a good memory,” replies Donn, sarcastically. They grip each other’s hands tighter than seems necessary.

When they let go, Bryan stretches his fingers and glances at me in a sullen way. Hardly the life and soul of the party, and with good reason. It bothers him to see me so close to Donn, even if we’re just chatting.

Then I hear Jeff’s voice calling me over. He is on the phone.

“I’ll just go and see what he wants,” I say and dash over to him.

He passes the receiver to me. It’s my mother. She has taken a few days off work to go somewhere sunny and she’s sorry that she couldn’t make it to the party.

She’s still apologizing when I turn to watch Donn and Bryan. Their potential friendship seems to have made no progress in my absence.

Bryan tries to avoid my eyes, and then he walks off with a quick nod in my direction. Donn’s cold, hard stare follows him

I stay on the phone and reassure my mom that it’s no problem that she couldn’t make it, and that I’m not disappointed or upset. I tell her she should try to relax before she gets back to the hard grind of her working life.

At this point, J. reappears from the storeroom, but keeps his distance, an unreadable expression on his face, hidden in the shadows.

In order to get off the phone, I’m forced to play the card of having to mingle with my guests, two in particular, and I hang up.

By the time I peek over Donn’s shoulder, J. has already disappeared back into the storeroom.

“Was that J.?” I ask Donn, frowning.

He stiffens, resentful at seeing my face fill with emotion. “Who?” He makes an effort to be casual.

“Um … J.?” I say. “He was there next to you.”

I try to concentrate, but am shaken still by my unfulfilled dreams of Jason that resurfaced in my mind. I think of J., his dark outline in the shadows. The surprising wave of happiness he radiated when I saw a flash of his sapphire eyes through the darkness only highlights the resemblance.

Donn grinds his teeth in anger.

“Oh, yeah. What does it matter?”

“It matters to me!” I snap, irritated. I bite my lip to avoid another outburst and pray that the worst, whatever it is, will be over by the time J. and I see each other again.

“Ok,” replies Donn, as if the conversation were closed. “Right.” I keep waiting.

“Can’t you just forget about him?” he says. But his tone is calm.

“No!” I’m not going to let him get away with it. “Why is he here?”

“He wanted to wish you all the best,” Donn smirked. “To come to the party. And he especially wanted to see you. He kept mumbling on about how sorry he was, even though he seemed out of his mind, ravenous.”

I back down in view of the resentment I hear in his voice.

“Will you tell me why you threw him out of my party, out of Jeff’s bar?”

Donn’s face hardens, and he seems taken aback.

“Stella, you’ve cut yourself. He was about to attack you. I intervened just in time. He’s a pup. He’s not yet able to…”

“What’s a pup?” I ask, curious.

“I can see that you’re not willing to just let things be,” he concludes, exasperated.

I wait impatiently, full of questions.

“Follow me.” Donn nods towards the storage room.

“Are you taking me out back?” I ask sarcastically. I have no intention of following Donn into the dark, isolated storage room.

“That was the plan,” he replies, his gaze intensifying.

“Can J. come back to the party?” I ask.

“I’m afraid not,” he answers smugly. “He’s still here, I don’t know where. But for tonight, baby, you need some peace and quiet.”

There is nothing else I can do to change his mind. When he looks at me through the darkness in his eyes, he’s unshakeable.

“Just come with me,” he whispers in my ear, stroking my cheek with an icy finger. He slips his hands behind my waist and guides me forcefully to the private part of the bar, the storage room. I almost have to run to match his stride.

“Where are we going?”

Donn’s face softens.

“To Scott’s office. There’s a first-aid kit there.”

“I’m fine!” I exclaim, raising my arms up as if I were surrendering.

“I don’t think so.” Donn seems worried. “You’ve cut your finger, it’s bleeding.”

“Oh, sorry,” I say, mortified, as he keeps his hold on my waist guiding me to the back room.

“Are you apologizing because you’re bleeding? You have a paper cut, don’t apologize. I’m not the vampire who was about to attack you.” He gets closer as he minimizes the near-miss catastrophe. “You did nothing wrong. You won’t be sentenced to death for this.”

“Look, Donn… There’s no need. I mean, it’s just a scratch.” I show him my finger so he can examine the wound.

His first instinct is to narrow his eyes and look away. Then he gathers his willpower to look at it. “I just want to disinfect the wound.” His cold lips brush against my ear.

“Then do you promise you will explain everything to me?”

“I promise.”

When we get into Scott’s office, I see the first-aid kit on the wall behind the desk. I remember how Vuk used to study his schoolbooks on the armchair, getting ready for exams.

A small but bright reading lamp is already on. Donn lifts me gently onto the desk and sits down on the armchair. He brings the lamp to my hand and shifts his weight to the edge of the chair. I keep looking at him, until his eyes meet mine.

“What do you want?” he asks, suspiciously as he inspects the cut.

“You owe me an explanation.”

“Do you want me to take you to hospital or deal with it myself?” he asks sarcastically.

“Just tell me what’s going on!” My voice is not as authoritative as I would like.

“I don’t owe you anything,” Donn points out. He wipes a gauze dipped in pink antiseptic across the cut. It has a strange smell. I think it must be Merbromin. It makes me dizzy and stains my skin.

“You promised me,” I remind him, and Donn concludes the operation by applying a Band-Aid on the rapidly drying thick pink liquid.

“I’ve saved your life on more than one occasion,” Donn reminds me. He wipes the desk clean with a wet rag soaked in alcohol. The odor burns my nostrils.

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“You’re welcome,” Donn produces one of his breathtaking, blinding smiles.

Now it seems like he’s mocking me, and I can’t hold back. “May I ask why you bothered to save me?”