The night is full of visions.

I can see so far. I stare into all the windows of the buildings surrounding the rooftop and out, into the distance. Gazing into the night, I watch people make dinner, fight, and kiss while shivering in Amun’s lap.

When I close my eyes and my head to his chest, I see the desert in bright white. I see a blue tent against a blue sky. I don’t see any people but I hear bells and children laughing. I can’t help but smile, and nestle deeper into Amun’s wool sweater. My head swims with nausea and energy all at once. The deep pain in my side is fading fast.

I feel the vial’s liquid pulsing through my veins at a fast pace. I have no idea how much time is passing but I feel like I’ve been in his cradling embrace for a hundred blissful years.

“Don’t leave, Amun,” I mumble, my mouth full of cotton. “We’re home. We’re here”. He doesn’t respond with words. He gathers me in tighter and strokes the back of my head with one wide palm, using his other hand to smooth his thumb over my eyebrows and then down the bridge of my nose.

Though my eyes are still closed, full of bright sun, I feel his face hover over mine. His cool lips touch mine and through the soft flesh, I feel the hard ivory of his teeth, flat in the front and impossibly swollen at the canines.

I tilt my chin up, offering my neck in a carnal arch, though I’m not exactly sure what I’m begging for. My body is pulsing, every nerve is turned on, tuned up. I feel him hesitate, feel the rough stubble of beard against my soft neck.

His lips caress the hard beating of my veins and I feel ready, so ready. A soft, low growl escapes from deep in his throat. His hands, so tender only moments before, become stronger, more eager. One hand tangles in my hair and he breathes in the scent of my skin.

“Do it,” I whisper. “Please, please do it.”

Suddenly, the moment is over. Amun pulls his face away. He’s my caregiver again, tender and sensual but totally in control. His hands touch my sides, first carefully with his fingertips, then with each palm, letting them travel along the curve of my waist.

“It’s almost sunrise,” he whispers. “I need to get you inside.” He helps me off his lap and leaves me propped up against the utility box, still out of it, taking in the last of the city’s light.

He lifts my skylight open with ease, despite the lock on the inside. Tenderly, he takes me by the hand and motions for me to go down. I do, compliant with whatever is pulsing through my veins but before he leaves, I rebel. Raising myself back up through the window I kiss him, deeply.

My mouth locked with his, and I discover what I’d only imagined on the roof. Fangs, smooth and strong brush my tongue and lips. He pulls back for a moment, gauging my reaction.

Impatiently, I pull his face back to mine. Both hands cupped around the back of his neck, I taste him deeply. Somewhere, in the depths of my desire, I recognize the taste of the tonic in his mouth. The realization dawns, the potion in the vial was the blood of a vampire.

It was Amun’s blood. He’d known that I might need it. He’d known that I would never have taken it if I’d known what it was. I knew something else at that moment as well. While Amun’s blood was intoxicating, the kiss of this vampire was what I wanted to last forever.

Finally, Amun pushed me away. “The sun is coming up, and as you know now, I belong to the night. Good morning, Petra. Stay safe. Wear the bracelet.”

“Tomorrow night?” I ask.

“Tomorrow night,” he answers. In the dim, purple light, I see him smile wide, his fangs on display. It reminds me of my dream the night he dropped the bracelet into my room. Full of beauty and danger.

I collapse in my bed, and writhe with desire, hating the fact that Amun has left me in this state. I stretch my hands above me, arching my back. Only after I’m fully extended do I realize that my sides are completely healed.

I touch the place where the scratches were and feel smooth skin as if the attack never happened. I’m too turned up to even think about laying down and going to sleep. I throw a t-shirt on and slip down from the loft in my underwear to look at the sun, rising and reflecting against the glass of the skyscrapers on the horizon.

I wait for the effects of the substance to wear off and a hangover to take over. Or at least, I wait for the need for sleep but as another sunny day begins, I’m feeling better than I have in years. I get dressed, slipping into black jeans and a crop top. The bracelet is starting to look right at home on my wrist.

I stare at my reflection for a moment. My cheeks are flushed with color. My eyes are bright. Even my hair looks shinier and bouncier than usual.

Last night, I barely escaped a bloody end. Last night I was caked in blood and overwhelmed. And today, I’m a new person. Today is a day of celebration.

I go up to the loft and dig into my suitcase where I stash all my keepsakes. Neatly folded in the bottom is my mom’s old leather jacket. I slip it on, the thick, worn skin making me feel ready to face whatever twists and turns this new adventure might bring. I give myself a once over before heading out the door to go meet whatever this city’s going to bring me.

Bright light and bird song hits me as I bang the heavy door of the brownstone shut. I breathe in the morning air.

“Petra Figaro?” a woman in black sunglasses and a wide-brim hat stands at the bottom of the stairs, holding two coffees. “My name is Selena. I thought we’d go for a walk. We’ve got a lot to talk about”.