Chapter 1 #2
I try to listen, I really do, but I end up roaming around the kitchen and then the living room.
My eyes wander across the shelves, taking in the books lining each one.
He has really good taste, almost refined.
Deliberate. He has amazing taste in literature, I think, as I look at some photos he has.
My mind can’t help but conjure up the life that created this space, this house.
What made him who he is?
My eyes move to one of the pictures in shades of brown and black, like it was taken right at the invention of the camera. It’s him with another man, the two of them wearing suits and ties. The vampire has an enormous mustache in this one, the kind that curls up at the ends.
Good thing he got rid of that, I think with a small laugh.
The other man looks sweet, shy even. He’d never show up in a cardboard box, wearing a bowtie and soggy undies.
“What are you laughing at?” he asks, his voice startling me.
“Not laughing, just admiring the facial hair. Pretty neat.”
He stops near me and stares at the photo. “A terrible trend, if I do say so. Food got stuck in my mustache all the time.”
“I bet. I guess it would be a nice snack for later.”
He huffs and then hands me the clothes. A pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt.
I press them against my bare chest and then step back, putting them on quickly.
As I do this, he bends down and starts the fireplace with the flick of a button.
“I prefer wood fireplaces, but these are more practical,” he tells me. I just nod. I have no clue what he means. I barely have heating in my apartment. And when it works, it’s not all that warm. Nothing like the heat moving out of this gas fireplace right now.
I sink into a chair right next to it, one of those old-fashioned wingback chairs, and lean forward, rubbing my hands together.
The vampire stands opposite me, staring at me intensely.
“Would you like a cup of tea?”
I nod enthusiastically. “Please.”
He disappears into the kitchen. I can hear the sound of water filling a kettle and him rustling around the cabinets, probably looking for the tea bags. I just let him do it. I’m too busy basking in this heat.
He returns several minutes later, a cup of tea in his hands.
“I assumed you’d like sugar and milk in it.”
“Yeah, I’m not picky.”
I take the fancy china and blow across the top of it. The vampire takes a seat on the sofa opposite me and watches me intently.
“What’s your name?” I ask him.
“Evander Graves. You?”
“Jamie Price.”
He nods. “Nice to meet you, Jamie.”
“Same. And, uh, thanks for letting me ride out the storm here.”
“I’d say anytime, but I’d be lying.”
My lips turn up in a wide grin. “Yeah, you don’t seem like you have many visitors here.”
“I don’t. I prefer the solace of being alone.”
“Yeah, I get that vibe. I’m more of an extrovert.”
“You don’t say.” His tone is dry, and it makes me laugh.
“You’re funny.”
“I don’t try to be.”
That only makes me giggle longer. He doesn’t seem amused, but then again, I can’t get a read on him. I usually can with most people, but he’s hard to read.
His phone beeps loudly, and he stares down at an incoming message. His lips turn down, and he swears under his breath.
“Blood and damnation.”
“What? You okay?” I ask like I have a right to know.
“My blood delivery has been delayed. Apparently, the roads are flooded.”
“Yeah, I wasn’t lying when I said they were.”
His eyes flick to me. “I wasn’t saying you did.”
That makes me swallow, my body growing heated from the anger in his tone, but then he softens slightly. “How are you feeling now? Warm enough?”
“Yeah. Almost too warm.”
“Would you like me to turn it down? I never use it, so I don’t know what a good human temperature is.”
“I can adjust it,” I say, reaching over to flick the gauge down.
He watches me move, and I feel a burst of heat move through my skin once more. Maybe the fire isn’t the issue. Maybe it’s this hot vampire watching me from across the room.
I need a distraction, something to keep me from getting an erection in these pants. I showed up here to give him a song and dance, not to solicit him.
Although the thought of straddling those thighs and writhing does things to my body that I haven’t felt in a while.
“So who was the guy you were standing with in the picture?” I ask, clearing my throat.
He hesitates a moment, his hand clenching against his thigh. “A past lover. One I lost.”
“Oh,” I breathe, hearing the sadness in his voice. “Um, was he a vampire too?”
“No, he was human. He didn’t want to be turned. So I…” His throat clears again. “…watched him die.”
The simple way he says it makes my chest tighten. Like he’s done this a thousand times before. Like this is what he’s come to expect.
“Shit, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. That was so rude of me.”
“Yes. You shouldn’t have, but you did. I get the impression that you don’t think before you speak.”
“Kinda,” I rub at the back of my neck. “That’s an issue for me.”
He’s silent and then says, “Go on, ask more. We have nothing else to do but sit here until the rain stops.”
I stare at the windows, water sluicing down them. At this rate, we might end up on the roof for survival, but I don’t go there. Not yet, at least.
“Right, well, as a broke guy in his twenties, I’ve been busy surviving and haven’t really been following the news, so I don’t know much about your kind…”
“What would you like to know?”
I don’t even have to think twice about it. It’s the first thing that spills from my lips. “You said vampires turn. So that means you’re not born, right?”
“Correct. To turn, you need access to a shaman who knows how to perform the art of necromancy, and you also need the blood of another vampire.”
“That sounds complicated.”
“It’s not. Not as much as I make it seem. It’s a simple ceremony and easily done if the shaman is good at what he does.”
“So biting a human, feeding on one, doesn’t make a human a vampire.”
“Correct.”
“Got it.” I bob my head as I roll my lips between my teeth, and then another question pops out. “So you said your blood shipment was delayed. How long can you survive without it?”
“A few weeks. It’s been a week so far, and I feel a hunger building, but I can manage it much better than some. The older ones easily can.”
“Seems you’ve had a lot of practice.”
“I do.”
“So where do you get the blood? Like a blood bank?”
“Almost. The government contracts with organizations where humans can donate blood. They process it and ship it out. I prefer the Crimson Co. over the others. They have the best shipping times and, I think, the best blood to choose from.”
“So you can taste a difference between the blood types?”
“I can. I prefer A positive.”
That makes me flush even more. That’s exactly my blood type.
I don’t say that, though, just keep it to myself.
I haven’t decided whether I’m going to offer my body up for his consumption.
Part of me wants to, as a thank you for his aid in the middle of a literal storm, but that’s a commitment I’m not sure I’m ready to make.
Once I experience the bite of a vampire, I may never want to go back to normal.
I’ve read way too many posts online that say people grow addicted to it. That they crave the feeling of being fed upon.
With my personality, I know that would most likely be the case. I’d be begging for more.
But fuck if it isn’t intriguing as hell. Especially with someone as hot as Evander.
Sipping on my warm tea, I think about other questions I want to ask the person before me.
He seems to be waiting, silent, sitting patiently on the couch, his long legs outstretched, head cocked slightly.
He’s a fucking sight for sore eyes. I’ve been so consumed with making ends meet that I haven’t been fucked in ages.
What I wouldn’t give to straddle those thighs and stick his dick up my ass.
Maybe while he’s biting me. Sucking my lifeblood from my veins, growing stronger, thicker.
A throbbing emanates from my groin to my chest.
Everything inside me heats, but I’m not sure he’s interested. He hasn’t given me any hints that he is, so I decide to tell myself he’s not. To save myself the embarrassment of rejection. To not grow overly horny only to be torn down.
“So,” I run my hands down my thighs, trying to ignore the bulge right in the front. “Do you like human food?”
“I do, but our kind need blood to survive.”
“What’s your favorite food?”
He mulls that over for a moment. “Probably chicken wings, the spicy kind. Quite the amazing invention.”
“Shit.” The image of him bent over a table, sticky hands, sauce smeared on his lips, is too fucking much. I can’t imagine him doing that. Ever. It makes my lips twitch, my heart swelling in a way I haven’t felt in ages.
Since I saw my cousin take her first steps, since I saw my sister win first prize at the county fair. It’s just so… human.
“What? You can’t see me eating wings?”
“No, not really. I think I see you eating… shit, what are they called… the eggs you put on the pedestal and crack with a spoon.”
“Dippy eggs.”
“That’s what they’re called?”
“Yes, or eggs and soldiers.”
“Fuck, who knew?” I laugh softly. “Well, me. I didn’t know about that or the fact that you like wings.”
“I do. They’re my favorite.”
My eyes flick to his. “I’m assuming spice doesn’t affect you.”
“Not much. It ends up being a nice little zing. So for us, it’s usually the spicier the better.”
“How cool.”
“Perhaps.”
We’re silent again, and I finish off my tea, setting the cup on the ground near the fireplace and rolling up my sleeves.
It’s getting warmer in here. Maybe I should take my shirt off to cool down, but I refrain.
I don’t want him to think I’m coming on to him.
Maybe I should just turn the fire off completely, but then I worry I’ll grow cold again.
Decisions, decisions.
“So what is your favorite part of the body to feed from?” I blurt.
Evander huffs. “Well, they’re all nice. The neck, the wrists, the groin. But my favorite would have to be a nice hard cock.”
I choke slightly, my face turning bright red and my dick thickening at the thought. Oh, who am I kidding? I’ve been hard for ages. This guy is doing it for me. Majorly.
“I have a ravenous appetite,” he adds.
“I’m sure you do,” I wheeze and then fan my face slightly. “Shit, I think I need to, like, turn this off.”
“Whatever you need.”
What I need is for him to come over here, crawl between my thighs, and take a sip.
Of my blood, my cock, whatever he wants.
But I don’t say that. Just repress the desire to blurt that out.
Fuck, what must he think of me? A stranger in his house, a human, sitting near his fireplace, waiting out the storm outside.
My hand flicks out, and I turn the entire fireplace off. The gas flame fizzles and dies, leaving me to sit there panting. The longer he stares at me, the hotter I get. My fingers fiddle with the bottom of my shirt, fanning my body with it.
“Go on. You can take it off. Nothing I haven’t already seen.”
I blush like the blood pulsing through me, my shaking hands whipping the shirt off my head and tossing it onto the ground. Evander’s eyes land on the heap of fabric before flicking back up to mine.
“Do you feel better now?”
No. Not really. I feel worse. Because now my chest is bared to him, and I want him to come over, crawl between my legs, and suck my nipples. Twist them, make me scream.
But I don’t say that either.
I’m only growing more and more vulgar.
Who knows what could come tumbling out of my mouth next?
“You’re far too quiet,” he says, crossing his ankle over his leg. “You had a million questions, and now you have none. Have you exhausted them all?”
“No. I just…got overheated and needed a minute to reprogram.”
I sound like a robot, and not the sexy kind. Evander’s lips twitch slightly, and he nods.
“Perhaps I’ll get you some water, let you rehydrate.”
I bob my head and swallow so loudly that it clicks. He hears it. I know he does. Because he hesitates when he gets up, but he doesn’t miss a beat. Just disappears into the kitchen.
Leaving me to reach down beneath my sweatpants and give my dick a nice, long retaliatory tug.
“Behave, you little shit,” I murmur, my head falling back against the chair. A muffled moan tries to escape, but I swallow it down. My hand, which snuck down my pants to teach my dick a lesson, only tugs on it more. It makes my hips arch up and my mouth part in heavy pants.
Oh, this is not what I’m supposed to do while my nice, sexy host is getting me water. It’s despicable, really. And I’m even wearing his pants. And yet I can’t stop. Can’t. Don’t wanna. It feels too good.
He’s so hot. He should really expect this to happen.
And when my eyes move from the picture of Evander sitting on the fireplace—one of him in the fifties in a suit and tie, a cute little hat sitting on his head—to the doorway, I see the man who is making my dick hard standing right there.
No, not a man. A vampire.
And even so, he’s watching me, his eyes intent on the movement my wrist gives beneath my pants.
His hand twitches, water sloshing out of the cup. It lands on the floor, but neither of us look at it.
He just stares at me, unmoving.
And I don’t stop.
Can’t.
Don’t want to.
So I keep going, waiting to see what he’ll do next.