Chapter 24 #2
“Ah, come on, Fallon. You’re my daughter. I’ve been holding the title as Most Disappointing Hunter since before you were born. I’m happy to have you take the mantle from me.”
“Yeah, right,” I laughed with her. “You’re a hero to the Hunters.”
“Maybe to the little girlies still giggling in their nighties. With my sisters, though? Yeesh.”
“Thank you,” I said, then added, “Mom.”
“Listen, stick around as long as you need. I gotta go take care of some obligations.”
“Hunting?” I sat up straighter.
“Right.” Diana pulled on a pair of black leather gloves and slung a pouch around her shoulder that fit snugly against her torso. She tugged her boots on, then wiggled her fingers at me in farewell. Before I could take another breath to speak, she was out the door, and I was alone.
My thoughts were a hailstorm pelting me, failure failure failure, traitor traitor traitor, and so I stretched across the couch and wrapped myself in a soft throw blanket. I closed my eyes and wept in between the bumpy fits of sleep that occasionally found me.
* * *
Peter Fenton
Huh. So vampires could, in fact, get headaches.
“What the fuck happened last night?” I asked, and nobody answered.
I wasn’t alone, though. There was that smell.
I took in a deep breath that made my head ache even more.
A woman. Sweaty and natural and bleeding and crying, and fuck, my dick was hard as a rock, telling me I wanted her.
Where’d she go? I called out to her but got no response.
I stared at the ceiling from my unusual perspective on the floor and rubbed my oddly numb face.
My thumb found the spot, dried salt on my cheek, and I scooped as much as I could between the fine lines of my thumbprint and popped it into my mouth.
Womanly tears on my face? Heartwarming. I just wished I could remember who they belonged to.
I lifted my black shirt off my chest where it stuck to my skin from the patch of dried blood.
I poked at it. Human blood. That woman’s.
I released my cock before it ripped a hole through my jeans.
I rolled to my side and rested at the edge of my living room rug, then pulled the bloodstained fabric of my shirt to my mouth so I could lick it.
Even dried and tinged with laundry detergent and cotton fibers, it was delectable.
I lapped at it like a cat, and just a few jerky strokes of my erection had me busting out strings of cool cum across the faux wood floor.
With that taken care of, I licked up every remaining hint of my mystery woman’s blood from my shirt, and then from my skin underneath.
I flopped onto my back, feeling like a real addict again.
I shuddered at the sour memories of my human life.
I stripped my clothes and checked my phone for the time. 8 pm on the 18th. I was about to toss it onto the coffee table to clean up my little mess when I froze and read the lock screen once more. The 18th? What the actual fuck…
This was supposed to be the 17th, my night off, and I’d been planning on going on a trip.
As it was, I had a couple hours to check in with Guero to see if there’d be any deliveries.
I gathered a wet cloth and some paper towels to clean up the impressive streaks of cum I’d left behind.
I dried the spot and tossed my cleaning supplies, and I was no closer to relocating my memories of the previous night.
My house key was on the coffee table, but my journal was not, and a jolt of panic gripped my throat.
Had I been drugged and robbed? Was that possible as a vampire?
I upended my apartment, searching for the little red book of my life’s secrets, and looking for any other evidence of a robbery.
My pile of cash remained undisturbed in its slightly opened drawer.
My fridge was still fully stocked with blood, and none of my expensive bottles of alcohol were missing.
Only my journal was gone. It was that woman, and I took a deep breath of her barely lingering scent and memorized it.
Was she an admirer who wanted a peek into my thoughts?
I never brought women to my apartment, though.
This was disturbing, and that fucking meant something coming from a vampire.
I stuffed my hands in my discarded jeans pockets, tossing aside my intact wallet and my motorcycle keys.
I shuddered. I’d have to ask around tonight.
I’d hit up Plath’s before I got to work.
A quick shower and a new set of clothes later, I headed out, feeling eerie and uncomfortable in my own home.
I’d ask Laz about changing out my locks, just in case this stalker woman had copied my house key.
I forcefully pushed away thoughts of her crawling her tight little body into my bed while I slept and surprising me with a ride on my dick. This was fucked, even for me.
The air outside smelled like oil and heat and the threat of a rainstorm.
Probably not the best weather to take the bike, but I itched for the freedom of a ride.
I took the last step back to the ground and dug my keys from my pocket, then stood in front of my empty parking space. My motorcycle was gone.
My curse word echoed back at me, and I could have sworn it sounded mocking.
I’d been robbed after all, and pissed as I was, it came as a relief, too.
I pressed the spot on my cheek where a woman’s tear had dried, and I stared at the empty parking space.
I reached into the dark spaces of my mind, grasping for the ghost of memories.
It was a sensation I’d only experienced when I’d been blackout drunk, where stretches of time just didn’t exist in my mind.
It had never happened to me as a vampire, though.
The fuck had happened to me last night?