Chapter 7 Sawyer
Sawyer
A vampire. A motherfucking vampire.
What is life anymore?
I’m half convinced I died in the crash, and this is some cruel afterlife, because why wouldn’t death suck as much as life did?
Mythical creatures in the hereafter seem strange, so perhaps I was picked up from the accident and I’m a coma.
This entire thing is something my brain is inventing in some medication-induced haze.
But can my mind invent something this realistic?
The frosty temperatures, the exhilaration of fear, even the body aches?
Besides, his fangs are right there—just inches away—and his hand is wrapped light but firm around my throat.
Sharp little points jut out from his gums. They could tear into my flesh so easily—something I should definitely be fighting to escape.
This certainly feels real. It seems like I’m alive, and it’s not in my head.
My hand twitches at his offer of touching them, to see if they’re as sharp as they appear. To feel I’m not imagining the fantasy creature come to life and I’m definitely alive and well.
As well as a person can be after learning vampires are real, anyway.
Childhood me would be enthralled by this. I was once fascinated by a library book on Transylvania and all the elements they dedicated to the Dracula tale, to the point the country made it on the endless list of dream destinations.
He’s a vampire, and he’s claiming that witches, shifters, demons, and angels are all real, too.
Which makes everything I grew up reading in books and watching in movies not a product of imagination after all.
It isn’t religion from centuries past, or fear of phenomena early civilizations didn’t understand the way we do now, after centuries of research and study.
This is all steeped in truth.
“What can I do to make you understand you’re safe?” His voice, almost a purr, has me questioning how I didn’t see this sooner. His entire identity—his speech patterns, mannerisms, and behaviours—screams otherworldly.
The allure I’ve felt since waking in his bed must be one of his vampire persuasion tricks, if the movies are anything to go by.
Why my attraction for the handsome but probably dangerous stranger ruled my fear.
When I glance up and into the faint red tinting his eyes, I think I wasn’t entirely wrong at least.
He’s asking what he can do to earn my trust, but my question is, is there anything possible to make that happen? How could I trust the paranormal creature who should only exist within fiction? He could lie to me at any time. Lying is a skill, and he definitely has more practice than I do.
“What do you do for food?” The obvious first question, considering his fangs are inches from my neck and he’s already mentioned my blood smelling pleasant a few times.
Not sure how to feel about that one.
“Blood. Animals when required. Otherwise, the occasional hiker.”
“You found me bleeding.” While he hasn’t said it, I was meant to be that occasional hiker to him. I should have been his prey.
His tongue flicks against a fang, drawing what little attention I still have to the motion.
“I followed it, intending to drink you dry, yes. But then I saw you and wanted to help. You’re too young and beautiful to die, and I was compelled to save you instead.
As I’ve said a few times now, I vow to never harm you, Sawyer.
” Enforcing his words, his fingers lift from my neck one at a time until his palm releases me entirely.
His arm never lowers, just hovers, the threat of being grasped again still present.
“If you wanted to help, why refuse to let me go yesterday?”
His lip curls, making those juts even more noticeable. It seemed like a reactionary move rather than something planned. “Sunlight kills. If you left yesterday, I couldn’t follow.”
That explains the lack of windows and why he had to wait until sundown to get food. Why he has no food in this place to begin with…
“What will you do with me?” Do I even want to be asking this—to know?
“Keep you…safe. We’ll figure the rest out in a few days.” His eyes somehow darken further as he curls his fingers into a fist and slowly lowers his arm. His behaviours suggest something else, once again, but having no other path forward, I need to trust he’ll keep that promise.
I slide my foot, taking a subtle and near-silent move forward. His eyes lower to the space between us, and it’s impossible now not to see how his jerky and rapid movements have been concealed as he feigned humanity for my benefit. Well, attempted to feign humanity.
“Is what movies portray true? You’re strong as hell, quick as a flash?”
He grins—a jolt to my sternum, because it’s so disarming compared to the last few minutes that felt ripped from a horror movie. It’s almost as unnerving as his entire existence. “Among other abilities, yes.”
“Such as?”
He simply winks, drawing my attention to his face again—and those fangs.
Trusting his invitation from moments ago remains, my hand lifts towards his face slowly. He goes deathly and eerily still, all except his jaw, which unhinges. His eyes return to the bottomless colour. Everything about him feels clearer now that he’s stopped hiding.
If he’s lying, this is when I’ll be murdered, but at least, I get to touch something supernatural before I do.
My fingertip brushes along the edge of his fang and down to the sharpest point, hesitating before lightly poking what’s easily a knife’s deadly replacement.
They’d slide into a person’s skin—my throat, most notably—with ease.
No doubt, it’d only be a minor sting when my skin breaks, and then maybe I’d hardly realize they’re inside me.
His tongue would skate along my pulse as he greedily gulped my blood.
Unconsciously, I lick my lips, hiding the fact that heat just unfurled in my stomach. My thighs clench, holding it all in.
Down girl. Let’s not get horny for the deadly vampire.
When his eyes flash poinsettia red, I consider all the other abilities Hollywood features vampires having. Enhanced scent for one—which I know he has, since he said he smelled my blood and followed it to the accident. Which means he might smell my arousal.
Oh, god. This gets worse and worse.
Careful not to break my skin, I move to his other fang. They’re enthralling in a manner that I can’t stop touching. The brief idea of poking my finger hard enough to break the skin, to see what he’d do, flits through my mind. Would he lap the blood clean or take my entire fingertip into his mouth?
Desire ploughs through me again.
His chest rumbles seconds before a hand flashes up to snatch my wrist. Red eyes meet mine for a second before centring on the pulse in my wrist. He brings my arm close to his mouth, and those twin fangs slide against my skin.
Maybe mind-reading is a thing too, because his actions are awfully close to what was in my head.
It’s a test, I realize when he scrutinizes me again. A test to gauge my reaction, if I trust he’ll stick to his agreement not to harm me.
He skates his teeth up and down my arm twice before reaching my pulse. The tingling sensation caused by his mini blades are tripled when his tongue flicks the beating spot, making it thump harder, faster—or is that my heart about to fall out of my chest?
Desire flushes through me until I’m pressing my legs together, praying he can’t smell it, even when I know he can.
When he smirks against my skin, it’s all the confirmation I need—followed quickly by a statement that shatters my willpower. “You smell good, and I’m not only talking about your blood.”
His caress, his words, his whisper, it’s all so sensual, dragging me away to the sensations.
His words are nearly lost within my mind’s haze.
I’m an idiot with a death wish, but hasn’t that already been established?
After all, I managed this entire trip in a beater of a vehicle without winter tires.
He twists my arm to slip my finger between his lips, sucking it down to the first knuckle…and holy Christmas spirit. I won’t survive this—him. How is this the person—the vampire—I was running from only mere hours ago? The stranger I was convinced would murder me and bury me in his backyard.
“Can vampires enthrall their victims into compliance?”
That devious smirk returns, and he pops my finger from his mouth to reply, “No, though it’d certainly have its uses.”
“Like now?”
“You tell me, Sawyer. Do I need to lure you with powers of influence until you’re begging me to drink from you, or will you be doing that all on your own?”
Heat, both desire and embarrassment, twists my insides. “I won’t beg you to drink from me.” If only that had as much venom and conviction behind it as intended.
“You will,” he croons, returning to my arm.
“Because your skin tastes so fucking delectable, I could only imagine what your blood will be like. I can hear it, you know.” He slides his tongue from my wrist to the inside of my elbow.
“Your blood is racing, but not in fear—though you believe that’s what you should be feeling.
No…” He lowers my arm to my side as red eyes leisurely travel the course of my body, head to toes, igniting flames within its path.
“I can hear it running to the very place between your thighs—the place you’re attempting to conceal from us both.
The place I’ve been envisioning tasting since seeing what’s beneath these clothes. ”
He’s finally wrong about one thing. My bra and panties are no longer on because the bath soaked them, and I wasn’t risking a trip out here to retrieve anything from my bags until dressed and armed to get answers.
“Where I’ll be soon enough when you ask nicely. Because Sawyer”—his eyes flash—“you will be begging for it.”
The argument I was coming up with is stolen by the image of those teeth sliding between my legs.
I back up a step until pressed into the wall, and his eyes dance with amusement as the fangs slide—yes, slide—back into place until appearing no different than mine. He winks and backs up.
Okay, that was cool. I’m still not convinced insanity wasn’t delivered by Santa’s elves along with the crash…but I’m coming around.
“What now?” My arms tighten over my chest, as if I could hide the racing heart we both know he can hear. “You won’t harm me, nor kill me, as you’ve proven. I believe in what you are, and you’ve saved me twice. I promise not to run again.”
Lucian turns towards the kitchen. “You’ll eat to silence your stomach’s grumbling—it’s borderline giving me a headache, an impossible feat, by the way—and you’ll keep feeding that curiosity.”