100 Yellow Doors

8:35 p.m.

The sun was down; Julien was relieved. He let Sera precede him, trying his best to swallow his discomfort, and stepped out into the back alley. He had only a moment to ponder what to say before his back was against the wall and Sera's mouth was on his.

Sera's lips were a dangerous thing. He had drowned at their will before, and if he wasn't careful, he would gladly do it again. Her hands were at his throat; one long fingernail made a trail down a vein in his neck. Sera bent, hair falling over her face, and Julien felt the keen edge of a fang poke at his skin. Reason flooded back in fast enough to make his head hurt. He pushed her back. "Sera, love. Let's not."

She mopped her mouth, her fangs zipping back into her gums. Confusion, betrayal, was all over her face, in her black-rimmed eyes as she staggered back, glaring at him. Here in the moonlight, Julien's chest tautened. When he looked at her like this, in that dress, her hair delightfully tousled, that pout to her mouth, he could almost be in love again. Sera, love. How easily it had slid from his tongue.

"You ditched me," Sera snapped, and Julien sighed. He'd been expecting this. Dreading it, mostly, but expecting it nonetheless. "I turned around and you weren't there. What was it? Was it the blood again, Jule? How long are you going to run away before you realize you can't anymore?"

"It wasn't that," Julien lied, leaning back against the brick. He dropped his voice, worried the other invited guests could hear. Fritz could, at least. That much was inevitable. "It was a teenager, Sera. I don't like...doing that kind of thing to kids."

"He was at least legal."

"Sera."

"I'm just saying!" Sera said, tossing her arms up in the air, revealing the small dagger tattooed on the inside of her bicep. She stepped forward, sliding her arms around Julien's shoulders, interlacing her fingers around the back of his neck as if they were about to waltz. "I love you, Juju. I just want the best for you. I don't want you to have to grovel about looking for roadkill anymore. Come with me, baby. Be with me. Together, we'll be on top of the world."

"Seraphine—"

Sera kissed him along his jaw. Julien shuddered. "I forgot how good my name sounds in your mouth, Juju."

His mind was blurring. Focus. Focus. There was nothing to focus on but Sera. There was never anything to focus on but Sera. "I can't, Sera," he said, tipping her chin up, looking in her eyes—her beautiful, beautiful eyes, the color of pea flower tea the instant milk was poured into it. "You know I can't."

"Why?"

"Because—"

"You don't want to," said Sera, cupping Julien's face with a gentle palm. Her burgundy-painted nails drew goosebumps along Julien's skin. He wanted to turn and kiss her hand, to trace her love and life lines with his tongue, but he refrained. It drove him mad, but he refrained. "Think about that. The only thing holding you back is you. Why come here, to DC, if not for me? You know that's why you're here. Deep down, you do, don't you?"

Julien shook his head. She had to leave. Not because she was interrupting the housewarming. Not because she was bothering him, even. Mostly because he knew if she stayed a moment longer, he would start to believe every word she said.

"Sera," he began, but didn't know what else to say. Sera, let's talk later, okay? Sera, I need space. Sera, I need time.

Sera, I still love you.

He wished he didn't.

He remembered a night a long time ago. At least seventy years ago, even. He was in Paris, alone, walking the streets and watching the way the city lights glittered in the reflection of the rain puddles upon the cobblestone. He was hungry. So hungry. A hunger he never knew before he died—whenever, wherever that had happened. He walked and walked until he could walk no further, and where he stumbled, there she was.