Love Bites

Chapter 3

As I wait for him to get in the car, I replay everything that just happened, and one thing keeps coming to mind. How did they know I killed Colin? He also called me undocumented, which implies that there are documented vampires out in the city.

Tina is currently arguing with the officer about warrants and taking me away on stupid, made-up charges. Well, arguing would imply both of them were shouting, but really it’s just my best friend jabbing her finger in the face of the six-foot hottie. He simply watches her with a raised brow, his huge, tree trunk arms crossed over his chest.

In all fairness, he doesn’t ignore her or brush her off, just standing there and taking her tirade. I’m surprised that all the commotion hasn’t drawn a crowd, considering my neighbours are a nosy bunch. Oh God, I’m going to be the talk of the street when they find out.

Priorities, Emmy. I’ve been arrested for murder, so why am I worried about what Doris from next door might be thinking?

The driver’s side door opens, snapping me back to the here and now. The officer stands in the opening, his back to me as he passes a card to my best friend.

“This is where I’m taking her. She will need to be processed and documented, but you can call for an update in the morning,” he explains easily.

In the morning, meaning that I’m going to be spending my birthday in a cell. A part of my mind is criticising me for worrying about that when I just killed someone, and I know I should be more horrified about that. The louder part of my brain is freaking out over the changes my body went through.

“Don’t worry, Emmy,” Tina calls, leaning around the officer to stick her head in the car. “I will get you out, and then we can laugh about all this.”

My smile is fragile, but I force it to my lips to try and ease the worry etched into her features. “I’ll see you soon,” I promise.

The officer climbs into the car without another word, slamming the door shut with a finality that makes me wince. Lifting my hand, I give a pathetic wave to Tina as the car pulls away. I feel as though I left a part of myself behind as I attempt to settle in the uncomfortable back seat, but it seems to be an impossible task.

My eyes land on the broad shoulders of the male sitting in front of me. He’s gorgeous even from behind, but that might just be because of the uniform. Men in uniforms have always been my weakness.

“What was your name again?” I ask, trying to focus my thoughts. He did tell me at some point, I’m sure he did, yet for the life of me, I can’t remember what it was.

“Officer Jack Hart.”

Officer Hart. The name seems appropriate, seeing as he makes my own heart skip a beat. His size is intimidating, he probably eats people like me for breakfast, yet I can’t help but want to drool. A little bit of danger has always been a turn-on for me, and Officer Hart fits that bill.

He’s not particularly chatty though, and we quickly fall back into silence as he drives us across the city.

Silence is not something I have ever been particularly good at, though, and as I lean back in my seat, my mind spins with questions I desperately need answers to.

“So, you really think I’m a vampire?”

I already suspected that I was, given the fangs and blood drinking, yet hearing him say it aloud made me feel unsure.

Shifting in his seat, the officer clicks his tongue before answering. “That male died of a vampire attack, and you reek of his blood, not to mention your fangs are still poking out.”

Sitting back, I run my tongue over the tips of said fangs, wincing as I pierce myself with them. Boy, they are sharp. He seems to know a lot about vampires and their feeding habits. Tilting my head to one side, I examine him. “Are you a vampire too?” I can’t seem to stop myself from asking, even though I shouldn’t be antagonising him—not to mention the fact that I should really be focusing on the fact that I am somehow a vampire.

His blue eyes narrow on me in the mirror, his irritation showing, yet it quickly changes as a flash of understanding fills his gaze. “No, I’m not.” He doesn’t elaborate, instead examining me via the mirror once more. “I’m assuming tonight was the first time you’ve fed. Is it your birthday today?”

Surprised, I lean forward, frowning with surprised confusion. “How did you know that?”

He nods his head slowly, the stern set of his shoulders relaxing a little. I guess it’s easier to relax when you know you don’t have a stone-cold killer in your car, just an accidental one.

“When a vampire turns twenty-one, they complete their transformation. The first feed can get pretty messy.”

Messy, yeah, that’s one way to put it. I feel a little less guilty now that I know what happened was a natural part of being a vampire. If I had known, though, this could have been prevented. Perhaps he’s wrong and I’m not a supernatural creature… just a human having a mental breakdown. Hmm, I’m not sure what is worse.

“But I wasn’t bitten. How could I be a vampire? Surely this is something I would know about myself,” I counter, ignoring the slight panic in my voice. See, I’ve read Twilight, so I know about these things.

He snorts as though he can read my mind. “Popular culture has it all wrong. Everything you’ve read in books and watched in movies is probably incorrect.” He rubs the back of his neck as he drives, and something that sounds like frustration laces his voice. “Pure blood vampires are born, not bitten. They live as a human until their twenty-first birthday, and then they come into their power. Didn’t your parents tell you any of this?” He’s clearly in disbelief over my lack of paranormal education.

Me too, buddy.

“I’m an orphan,” I explain. There is no pain or regret in my voice, it is simply a fact.

I never knew my parents, they died when I was still a baby, so while I am sad I missed out on getting to know them and having a picture-perfect family, I don’t actually miss them. It’s hard to miss someone you never knew. When I was a young child in the orphanage, I would dream of them coming to rescue me, hoping that they weren’t actually dead. I would mourn them, but as I grew older, I realised that it wasn’t necessarily them that I was mourning, but my chance at having a family. Sure, I have pictures of them that I cherish, but it seems like there was even more about them I never knew. If what Officer Hart said is true, then they were vampires too.

His eyes flick up to look at me through the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry. That would explain why you are undocumented.” His apology seems genuine, which takes me aback. He is a perfect stranger to me, and he’s sorry on my behalf for something he had no hand in.

Life hasn’t been easy, and trusting others when you are in and out of care is difficult. As a foster child, you learn early on that most of the people you stay with aren’t doing it for altruistic reasons. Oh, there are the rare few who take you in out of the kindness of their hearts, but those beings are unusual. Because of this, I find it really strange that the handsome officer seems apologetic.

With thousands of questions still swirling around my brain, I shift through the useless ones and ask something that has been bothering me since he arrived at my door.

“I don’t understand how you found me in the first place. How did you know that I killed Colin, and that I was undocumented?”

Driving one-handed, he rummages around in his pocket for something. I want to tell him that he shouldn’t take his hands off the wheel, but pointing that out to a police officer would probably just get me in trouble, so I keep my mouth shut. After a second, he seems to find what he’s looking for and raises it up for me to see—his notebook. “All reports of crimes committed by undocumented creatures automatically file into these. We have a warlock who is good with barriers. Any unlicenced magic or behaviour triggers the spell and reports it straight to us.”

Unlicenced magic or behaviour? I suppose that’s where I fit in. I get the distinct impression that it is the fact that I’m unregistered that is the greater crime than killing my boyfriend. Still, I keep that to myself. I’m already in hot water, so I shouldn’t start handing them the matches.

“Whoa,” I muse. “That must make catching criminals easy.” I’m still eyeing the magical notebook, thinking how useful something like that would be.

“You would be surprised. Not everyone is as easy to bring in as you.” The officer laughs as though he just said something hilarious, and I wonder if I should be offended. Before I can comment, he continues with his explanation. “Unfortunately, we are only able to track crimes committed by undocumented creatures.”

Frowning, I let what he said roll over me, dissecting the logic of it. “Wait, if everyone else is documented, then shouldn’t it be easier to find them rather than the ones you didn’t know existed?” I wait for him to come back with a good explanation. It seems like a bit of a backwards system. If they are able to track undocumented creatures, then why don’t they just round us all up and document us before we commit a crime?

“I don’t know the intricacies of the spell, but apparently it has something to do with the crime itself. The fact that the creature committing it is undocumented makes it more important that we find them.”

That seems a little discriminatory, as though crimes committed by an undocumented creature are more illegal than the same crime committed by someone who is documented. I also don’t like the term “creatures,” but there is so much about this world I don’t know, so perhaps it’s the perfect way to describe us.

Mulling over everything he said, I fall into silence, watching the world go by as I realise that my whole life is changing in the blink of an eye, and I have no idea what is going to happen next. It’s scary, and I’m starting to feel seriously nauseated.

After a while, I realise that I’m just winding myself up into a panic spiral, and I need to do something to calm myself down. Grabbing onto anything that I can think of that won’t make me think about the fact that I’m a murderer, I grasp onto the first thing that pops into my mind.

“Spell, like magic?”

His quiet sigh might have gone unnoticed if it wasn’t for the obvious slump of his shoulders as I speak. Rude. His eyes glance up at me in the mirror again, that sharp brow rising as he contemplates me.

“You really don’t know anything, do you?”

“You will need to come and see me every week for the next six months. If you’re able to keep yourself out of trouble during that time, the meetings will drop to once a month for a year. Any reoffence, and you will be thrown into jail. There will be no further leniency.” The female on the other side of the desk from me slides some colourful slips of paper towards me as she explains my fate.

Swallowing the lump in the back of my throat, I manage to croak out my understanding. “Yes, ma’am.”

I want to ask her to repeat everything she just said, or even write it down for me, but I’m low-key terrified of my parole officer. Calling her a troll seems cruel, but I am pretty sure that’s what she is. Until today, I didn’t know they existed, and now my whole world has been blown open. She’s small and squat, almost as round as she is tall, and has thick, greenish grey skin. Honestly, if she stopped moving, she would resemble a rock with the texture of her rough skin. Her wide head sits straight on her thick shoulders, no signs of a neck in sight. Green strands, which look more like grass than hair, are pulled back into a tight bun, leaving her unusual face clear for all to see. Two long, thick teeth extend from her wide lower jaw, only adding to the unwelcoming appearance she gives off. I’ve seen no sign of a smile, and I don’t know if that’s because she can’t, or if it’s because she just doesn’t like me.

Her large, crooked nose draws the eye, but I force myself to focus on her mud-coloured orbs. However, I’m obviously not very good at this, as she has caught me staring several times now, her expression becoming sourer by the minute. The thing that causes me the most confusion though, is her name.

Dorine.

Dorine, the fucking troll.

A loud slam pulls me from my distracted thoughts. Jumping in surprise, I look around, only to realise that Dorine has slammed her fists on the desk. I’m surprised the table managed to withstand the force, but I don’t have time to marvel because I have a snarling troll in my face.

“Are you listening?” she snaps, leaning across the desk so she’s almost in my face. “If you step out of line, you will be dragged back here, and your little sob story won’t save you again.”

I feel the blood drain from my face and my stomach flip in fear. Eyes wide, I manage to squeak out something that resembles an agreement and nod fiercely.

She stares me down for a moment more, then she finally seems satisfied that she scared the crap out of me and sits back down. Huffing, she brushes back a few loose strands of her green hair as though trying to regain her composure. Turning to her computer, she types a few notes while I sit in terrified silence.

We’re both like this for a few tense minutes, and I patiently wait for my next instructions. A tickle pricks the back of my throat, and although I desperately try to hold onto it, a cough forces its way out.

Slamming her meaty hands down on the keyboard, Dorine pins her mud brown eyes on me and glares. I smile sheepishly and mime pulling a zip across my lips. She shakes her head and jabs a finger towards the door.

“Wait outside. I will submit the paperwork and arrange for them to collect you.”

I don’t know who this mystery “them” is, but I do as I’m told. Whether or not Dorine has a good side, I certainly don’t want to get on her bad side. In all honesty, I’m completely overwhelmed and have no idea what’s happening or how my life is about to change.

Clutching my pamphlets, I take a seat in the waiting room. The last several hours have been hellish. Once Officer Hottie dropped me off, I was taken into an interview room where a werewolf and a witch asked me lots of questions. My first suspicion that they would be more upset about my undocumented status than the crime I committed was right. They asked the same questions repeatedly, but they soon worked out that I knew nothing and was telling the truth.

After that, they went through the process of getting me documented. While they couldn’t do the whole process, they were able to get it started and take my finger and fang prints, as well as a vial of my blood. I’m now in the system, but I will have to go to city hall to finish the registration process and pick up my new ID.

It took hours, but now that I’m sitting here and waiting for the next part of my life to begin, I find that I preferred it when I was busy answering questions. The quiet is too loud, and it allows for my brain to play tricks on me. I need a distraction. Glancing down at my lap, I flick through the brightly coloured pamphlets I was given. Perhaps they will be useful.

So you just killed your loved one.Frowning at the pink and purple pamphlet, I flick through it. I’m surprised by it, to be honest, because it looks pretty perky considering the subject matter. I’m also feeling a little raw from my actions, so I don’t think I’m ready for that subject matter yet.

Being a vampire doesn’t have to suck!Oh, that one might actually be useful, because so far, my experience has definitely sucked. Also, the pun made me smile. Moving onto the next pamphlet, I raise it up and take in the bright letters on the front.

Fangs aren’t only for fun! A guide to responsible feeding.

A wave of despair washes over me as I drop the booklet onto the seat beside me. No pamphlet is going to help me now. I have no idea what’s going to happen next or where I’ll go from here.

I’m a vampirenow, and I don’t know what that means.

I wish Tina was here. I even asked if I could call her, but I was told I couldn’t contact a human from the supernatural station because she might be able to work out where it is. It doesn’t matter that she already knows about what I am and that the SNPD exists, oh no, they just don’t want a human turning up at their doors and causing problems.

“I heard they were lenient on you.” A shadow falls over me, but I already know who it is—Officer Hart. His voice is ingrained in my mind.

My heart leaps in my chest, both at seeing him and having a friendly face nearby. Butterflies riot in my stomach, making me feel like a teenager with a crush, while I simultaneously lose all control over my emotions. “I don’t know what will happen now.” My voice is a croak, and my eyes sting as I force myself not to cry. “I killed someone, and I’m never getting his blood out of my shirt.”

I promise I’m not as vapid as I sound. The state of my shirt is the least of my worries and by no means the same as killing my boyfriend, yet I’m so overwhelmed and I have no idea how to express what I’m feeling. My word vomit has clearly taken him aback, and I’m sure I look a right state.

Instead of backing away, though, he recognises that I’m having a crisis and steps closer, frowning as he places a hand on my shoulder. My body suddenly feels alert, every cell becoming aware of the male touching me. He’s not even touching my bare skin, and I feel alive. What would it feel like without a layer of fabric between us? Oh, now that would be a fun experiment, all in the name of science of course…

Head out of the gutter, Emmy. Focus.

“I know this is a scary time for you,” he starts, his voice quiet but steady. “You will make it through this, and I will help you where I can.”

I don’t know if he realises that he’s doing this, but his hand slides from my shoulder to my back, where he rubs small, comforting circles. As a huge, muscular officer who catches criminals, I can’t imagine he comforts his criminals on a regular basis. Even so, he might not know he’s doing it, but I certainly am, electric-like tingles emitting from everywhere he touches.

“You’re being sent to a halfway house. They will look after you there.”

That quickly douses any heat that was building between us as panic takes its place.

“Aren’t halfway houses for newly released convicts?” My voice is shrill and still slurred slightly thanks to the fangs I can’t seem to retract.

I really should have paid more attention to what Dorine said, as I appear to have missed the part where she told me I was going to a halfway house—with convicts. I’m going to be eaten alive there. Sure, I know that I am technically a criminal now, and that I literally ate someone alive, but even so, I am not built for that life.

His brow shoots up as he witnesses my panic, and despite himself, a smile tugs at his lips. He attempts to control it, the muscles in his cheeks flickering with the effort. “In the human world, yes, but you’re not a human anymore.”

He has a good point.

“This will be a place where they will assess you and help you adjust to your new life. Think of it like a boarding school for new paranormals. They will teach you to control your powers. If you adjust well, they will let you become a day patient, and you’ll be able to return to your flat.”

That does sound better than how I imagined it. My heart sinks at the knowledge that I won’t be returning home anytime soon. When will I get to see Tina? What about my job?

“I really can’t go home?” There’s a quiver in my voice that makes me sound like an injured child. I’m usually stronger than this, but Tina and my flat are the most important things in my life. She’s family, and together we created a safe place and made it a home. When you’re an orphan or foster child, having somewhere that is your own, that is a haven, is next to impossible to find, which is why it’s so important to me.

Wincing, the officer squeezes my shoulder again. Is he wincing because he’s worried I might cry, or is my show of pitifulness causing him physical pain?

“Not yet. I’m sorry.”

Staring up into his dazzling blue eyes, I sense that he genuinely means it. We’re having a moment, the air practically tingling between us, when the most delicious scent fills the air. I just barely manage to hold back a groan and turn to try and find the source of the smell.

“I’m suddenly not so upset about being assigned a baby vampire,” a smooth male voice calls through the room, causing the hair on my arms to stand on end. “You must be Emmy.”

If I thought Officer Hart was gorgeous, then this new male would be described as beautiful. He looks like he just strode off a catwalk, and I’m exceedingly jealous of his hair. Hanging down just below his collar, his golden brown locks are glossy and healthy. With his pretty face and long hair, you might think he would be considered feminine, but his broad shoulders, strong physique, and smooth, angled jaw indicates he is a hundred percent male.

“Zane.” Officer Hart becomes rigid beside me as he faces the newcomer. “What are you doing here?”

He’s clearly not happy with the new male, but is that because he interrupted our moment or because these two have a history? I’d like to believe the first one, but it’s obvious they know each other.

“I’m here to collect the new vamp.” The male, Zane, flashes a smile at me, a hint of fang showing at the same time. I’m pretty sure he did that on purpose, but boy did it make my heart flutter. This one is going to be trouble, I can sense it already. It also answers my question about what he is.

“They sent you?” Hart’s scoff of disbelief suddenly makes me worried about going off with Zane. Why is the officer so surprised about Zane being assigned to me?

“As penance for my sins, I have to mentor a vampire who is sent to the halfway house.” Pressing his hand against his chest, he bows dramatically as he speaks. “Today is that day, and here I am.”

He holds open his arms with a smile that makes me think of the words “ta-da!” Winking at me, he drops his arms, his eyes scanning me hungrily.

“What’s happening here?” I hadn’t meant to speak aloud, but the question is valid. I feel as though I’m having a fever dream, and nothing makes any sense.

The fight seems to drain from Officer Hart, and he faces me once more, rubbing a hand across his face. “Zane is going to be your mentor. He will help you adjust to your new life. He’s taking you to the halfway house.”

Sceptical, I raise a brow. I’m supposed to leave with a stranger who he obviously has a problem with, and Zane clearly has problems following the rules if he’s being forced to look after me as penance. Not to mention I don’t have a clue where this halfway house is, and I’m starting to stress out about the whole situation. I have no clothes or possessions except for what I am wearing right now.

“You don’t seem happy about that. Is there something I should know about him?” I whisper. Should I care what he thinks? After all, I only met him a handful of hours ago when he arrested me, yet something about the officer makes me trust him. Besides, I was always told to respect the police.

“Something you will learn is that vampires have very good hearing, young one.”

Shit. He heard me. Thankfully Zane seems to find it amusing, and when I glance over my shoulder at him, he’s smirking right back at me.

Officer Hart sighs and seems to remember that he needs to act professionally. “We have a history, and he’s spent a lot of time here in my cells, but he will teach you well.” The last part was said more like a threat, and I know it wasn’t aimed at me. “Look, take my number in case you need anything.” Reaching into his pocket, he fishes out a business card and hands it to me.

“What do you think I’m going to do to her?” Zane snorts and then shakes his head. “Scratch that, there are a lot of things we could get up to.” He flashes me a conspiratorial grin that causes my stomach to flip, and his eyes gleam with mischief. “Come on, let’s get you out of here.”

He holds his arm open, and I instinctively walk over to him, my pamphlets crushed in my fist. His arm wraps around my shoulders, and a zing of electricity passes through us. His eyes widen before he looks down at me with a predatory smile. When I glance over my shoulder to look at Officer Hart, I see him frowning.

I am in deep trouble.