Chapter Eighteen #2
We walk up a set of outdoor stairs and down a row of doors, stopping at one with the number twenty-one in tarnished brass.
He unlocks the door. Before handing me the plastic motel key chain, he breathes in deeply, eyes shut.
When he opens them, the color has shifted to something darker, indiscernible with the lack of lighting. “Enjoy your stay.”
My fingers fumble for a light switch since the room is cloaked in shadows. When I flip it on, I yelp at what’s inside.
A lone double bed.
“Sorry, but we asked for a room with two separate—”
I turn to the teenager, or where the teenager was. He’s gone. All that remains is the cool night air ghosting across my skin like a warning, though I don’t know what for.
Before getting too comfortable, I go through all my usual home-away-from-home checks.
Making sure no one’s under the bed or in the closets, pushing the shower curtain all the way to one side, pressing my finger to the mirrors to make sure there’s a space and they’re not double-sided.
The room passes everything, except for the vibe check.
It’s dated, with a dingy green carpet I’d rather peel off for fun than sleep on top of, and though there is a love seat against the far wall, it’s too short for me or Luke to lie horizontally on since we’re both tall.
I turn to the bed, taking in all its paisley-patterned comforter, one-mattress glory.
A laugh burbles up my throat, starting small and turning hysterical.
Krystal would be fucking dying if she knew I was about to share a bed with the admittedly attractive—yeah, I have bad eyesight, but it’s not that bad—man she’s been teasing me about.
She’d tell me I might as well be a character plucked straight out of her favorite romance novel.
And maybe I could be. If that character happened to also be in hell.
The laughter subsides, leaving my cheeks wet with tears.
I drop back onto the bed so I’m lying down with my legs off the edge.
How did I end up here? Not just literally here, at a skeevy motel in hell, but as a twenty-seven-year-old med school dropout with no future, no prospects, no family.
And maybe no job, since I’m technically playing hooky right now, thanks to having no PTO yet.
Though the whole missing thing might grant me a pass.
If anyone’s even noticed I’m gone, which I doubt.
In the silence, noises float toward me. The rumblings of voices in the room next door, the wind picking up outside, the distant moans of someone using the motel as a campground for sinful delights.
I wish there was a TV so I could flip to a random channel and tune it out.
Do they have Food Network in hell? HGTV?
Streaming services? I’ll have to ask Luke.
Luke, who I’ll have to share a bed with.
If he even comes back. I’m growing more doubtful as the minutes tick past. Something was off between him and the woman.
The way he was trying to leave before she saw him, and how her smile grew when she said the words “old friend.” If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s his ex.
Which is fine. I have an ex, too, albeit not in this world. He doesn’t exist in the same league as the woman, but neither do I. The thought makes something inside me plummet, though I really don’t want to examine why.
A knock sounds, followed by Luke’s voice. “It’s me.”
I scramble off the bed to let him in. He makes it two steps inside before noticing our predicament. “I asked for two beds.”
“I know. I tried to tell the kid working, but he didn’t stick around to listen. I already slept in the van, so the bed’s all yours.”
He frowns, noticing the love seat. “I can take that.”
“I’m not tired.” Suddenly, I’m annoyed, though I can’t pin the reason. “Take the dumb bed. Besides, we’re adults. If I do want to sleep, we’ll just have to share. It’s not a big deal.”
I say the words, but by the way the room suddenly feels like a sauna, I’m not sure it’s the truth.
“How’d things go with that woman?”
He shrugs off his jacket, laying it over the back of the love seat, though it falls to the cushions, thanks to its weighted pockets. From his belt, he removes the dagger and places it on the nightstand.
“Look at the clouds.”
I’m still holding the door open, so I pop my head outside to take in the dark sky. Like last night, it’s filled with deep purple low-hanging clouds, so dense they block out the moon. I turn back to Luke, locking the door behind me. “Another Reckoning?”
He nods, sitting on the edge of the bed facing the love seat so his back is to me. “Tatianna says it will be the sixth one this month. They’re getting closer together.”
Tatianna. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman. Not synonymous with charcuterie cheese that pairs best with fig jam and prosciutto.
“And you trust her because…?”
His laugh is sharp. “Oh, I don’t trust her. But she has no reason to lie about this.”
“How do you know her?”
He’s silent for a long moment. I come around to the love seat and sit so I can see his expression, but it’s guarded.
“We were lovers in a past life.”
Lovers. The word is passionate, so much more so than calling her an ex.
“It was a long time ago,” Luke continues. “I was young, barely more than a teenager. We weren’t together very long. It was all fast and exciting and like a match. Burned out far quicker than expected. We had some very big differences.”
“Like how she’s a vampire?”
His expression fractures, all the indication I need to know I’m right. “How’d you know?”
I’m glad he doesn’t insult me by refuting it. “Just some hypothesizing. All the red meat on the menu. The boy who took me to our room could smell the blood from my leg, I think. Every drink the bartender poured was darker and thicker than normal beer. I didn’t know blood on draft was a thing.”
“They get creative these days, don’t they?” He chuckles. “Yes, vampires. Tatianna is the leader of the Midwest clan.”
“Did you know this was their territory when we stopped here?”
“I did. Vampires tend to be fairly hospitable. But I was hoping not to run into her.”
“You’re on her turf.”
He grimaces. “I’m more than aware. We’re not staying long.”
“If the other vamps find out we’re human, are we screwed?”
He shakes his head, leaning back on his elbows. “Doubtful, unless we do something to really piss them off. They have more than enough blood on hand to sustain them. For this clan, sucking blood straight from the source tends to be more of a…sensual thing.”
I’m assaulted by a visual of Luke and Tatianna mid-bloody make-out session. Two objectively hot individuals with red handprints and kiss marks dotted across each other’s skin, clothes shredded—
“Brie, are you listening?”
I’m snapped out of the pervasive daydream by Luke’s amused voice. “Huh? Yes. Of course. What’d you say again?”
He stares at me with a wry expression. “I asked if you mind if I shower first.”
Fifteen minutes later, Luke emerges from the bathroom in a cloud of steam.
Unlike the movies, he is not barely covered by a white towel wrapped around his waist that shows off the abs I’m 99 percent sure he’s sporting.
Instead, he’s fully clothed, which, good, he should be.
If I can’t walk around in a towel showing off my nips, neither can he.
He wears a nearly identical outfit as before, though his black shirt is fresh and rip-free. His dark hair sticks up at all angles as he runs his fingers through it.
“Will it keep you awake if I shower, too?” I ask, stretching as I rise from the love seat, where I’ve been reorganizing my duffel.
Luke shakes his head, flopping onto the bed in a way that I find endearing but the springs don’t, if all the squealing is anything to go by. I pick up the stack of my things to take into the bathroom and am nearly to the door when his tired voice makes me pause.
“I didn’t know you wear glasses.”
I glance back at him. “Usually contacts, but I had to take them out. I’m not a fan of how I look in glasses.”
“I like them.” In the low light from the bedside lamp, his eyes appear darker than usual, his spiked wet lashes accentuating them. There’s a line between his brows, like it troubles him that he didn’t know this miniscule fact about me.
“Thanks,” I manage to get out. I turn to slip into the bathroom, but his sleepy voice stops me.
“I like you, too.” He yawns. “We make a good team, don’t we?”
If I turn around, he’ll see the ridiculous flush burning my cheeks, not to mention the smile pulling at my lips. “I like to think so.” Before I close the door, I add, “For the record, you’re not so bad yourself.”