Chapter 4
Chapter Four
I must have been tired because I didn’t wake until slightly after sunset.
Damn. I rubbed my face as I emerged from my bedroom into my still-depressing living room.
A peek in my fridge still showed it lacking anything edible, and I included the pizza in that assessment. I’d obviously gotten a poorly made pie.
A knock at my door had me frowning. A peek through the glass spyhole showed a stranger wearing a dark jacket.
The woman knocked again.
“Can I help you?” I shouted through the portal.
“Delivery from Mr. O’Connor.”
Who? I frowned. “Wrong place. I don’t know a Mr. O’Connor.”
“Are you sure about that? You spent almost an entire week drooling on the guest bedroom pillow.”
Wait, I drooled in my sleep? But more importantly… I flung open the door. “You know Cillian?”
Green eyes set in a stony face perused me and appeared unimpressed. Couldn’t blame her. My wild unbrushed hair looked like I styled it by sticking my finger in a socket. “I work for Mr. O’Connor. He sent over a package for you.”
“What’s inside the cooler?” I eyed the blue and white plastic container she dangled.
“Open it and you’ll see.”
“No thanks.” I had a feeling I knew what he’d ordered his lackey to deliver.
“He wasn’t kidding about you being stubborn,” the woman muttered.
“It’s not stubborn to refuse gifts from strangers. Nor am I gullible. Are you part of Cillian’s prank?”
Her brows both rose. “You honestly don’t believe you’re…” She didn’t finish the sentence and shook her head. “Unbelievable. I can’t believe the boss wasted his time trying to help someone like you.”
“Like me?” I held myself straight. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“He usually is more discerning with those he associates with.” Her lip curled and my cheeks bloomed with heat.
“You can fuck right off with your snobby attitude. I am not in the mood.” I slammed the door shut and then waited. The woman didn’t knock but I did hear a thud. Only once I could be sure she’d left did I crack open the door. The cooler remained sitting on the floor.
If I left it there, it would get stolen and if he’d sent me blood, could result in trouble for me. I dragged the cooler inside and shut my door before crouching to flip open the lid. Sure enough, a bag with deep red fluid sat nestled in ice. Atop it, a note.
Come find me when you want answers.
And under that. Pour in a pot and heat on low. Do not boil. Do not microwave.
I stared at that bag of plasma for way longer than I should have. My tummy growled and I licked my lips as I remembered how good it tasted the night before.
Nope. I wasn’t a vampire no matter how much Cillian tried to convince me otherwise. I closed the cooler and went looking for my phone. Despite my credit card being almost maxed out, and me likely unemployed, I ordered some crispy fried chicken.
It arrived and right away, the smell did nothing for me.
Rather than my mouth watering, my nose wrinkled because the aroma couldn’t have been further from appetizing.
Maybe the bonk to my head did something to my tastebuds.
I sat on the couch with the warm bucket and peeled the lid off.
Right away I grimaced at the greasy crunchy chicken within.
Despite my repugnance, I grasped a piece, took a bite, and almost spat it out.
I forced myself to chew and swallow before nipping another smaller chunk.
And another. Each swallow only made me more miserable.
If I kept eating, I’d puke. I set the bucket aside.
There had to be something that I could tolerate. I ordered from a burger joint. Soggy bun, wilted veggies, too much ketchup, and a gross overcooked patty. I should have asked for medium rare, even as I’d always liked well-cooked.
I got a delivery from an Italian place next. The pasta literally made me gag. The donuts I actually went out to buy? Like eating crumbly cardboard.
With my credit card maxed out, I ran out of options but my stomach still grumbled angrily. I eyed the cooler. Maybe one sip wouldn’t hurt.
Despite the instructions, I didn’t pour the contents into a pot. I hated cooking, hence why I nuked the majority of my meals. I tossed the plastic bag into the microwave and set the cook time to two minutes.
At just over one, the blood bag exploded.
I popped open the microwave door and eyed the mess in disbelief.
The inside looked like a slaughterhouse and the smell of partially cooked blood and melted plastic sent me outside into the fresh air—an escape I needed before I pathetically stuck my head into the microwave and licked up the disaster.
I headed outside and stood on my small patio looking up at the sky.
Stars blinked as did the Starlink satellites that coasted by in a daisy chain of lights.
I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, noticing for the first time how loud everything seemed.
The cars on the street. The dog barking in the distance.
Even the hum of the powerline running into the apartment building seemed ridiculously noisy.
Despite it being around the corner, I even heard the main door to the building clicking shut as someone exited, and then the crunch of someone walking towards the parking lot—my fancy first-floor view—their booted feet crackling the partially melted snow that had frozen into ice.
More clamorous than that, the faint thump, thump, thump of a heartbeat.
My eyes snapped open. No way I heard that.
The person leaving had their hands shoved in their pocket, head ducked, and a round-shouldered slouch, but I still recognized them.
Theodore Gavin.
As if my thinking his name were shouted, he suddenly glanced over his shoulder and did a wide-eyed double take. “What the fuck? How aren’t you in the hospital or morgue?”
I couldn’t believe the fucker admitted to running me over. Pity I didn’t record it.
“I’m tougher than I look.” I didn’t realize I’d vaulted over the railing until I found myself stalking for him, barefoot. Strangely, I didn’t feel the cold. Must be my rage keeping my feet warm in the crunching snow.
“You’re fucking crazy is what you are,” Gavin muttered.
“As opposed to being a murderer?”
“It was a cat. Get over it.”
I planted my hands on my hips. “Should I also get over the fact you tried to kill me?”
“Not my fault you’re a dumb bitch who stood in front of a moving car.”
“You’re a piece of shit,” I hissed standing in front of him, several inches shorter so I held myself as upright as possible.
“And you’re a pathetic, old, crazy, dried-up cunt.” He leaned down to insult me, his breath stinking of pot and booze, and yet… he also somehow smelled delicious. My gaze locked onto the rapid pulse fluttering at the base of his neck.
Thump. Thump. Thump. This close, his heartbeat just about drowned out everything else.
I didn’t realize I’d stepped closer until he huffed, “Get away from me, freak.”
He went to shove me, but I moved faster. I caught his hands and when Gavin tugged, he couldn’t break free. A surprise to us both.
“Let go,” he demanded, aggressively pulling in an attempt to free himself from my grip—and failing.
“No.” My refusal emerged low and kind of growly. I couldn’t look away from his neck. From that fluttering little spot. My mouth watered. My tummy grumbled.
“I’m going to have you arrested for assault.”
A threat? How dare he after all he’d done. “Gonna tell the policemen little ol’ me hurt you?” I mocked as I yanked Gavin closer. “Should I give you a few bruises to make it believable?”
His heart rate quickened and a new smell emerged to tantalize me further.
Fear.
That sweet tang of trepidation proved to be my undoing.
I don’t know how, but Gavin ended up on the ground, me atop him, my lips pressed to his neck.
Before I could stop myself, I bit hard into his flesh to reach the blood teasing me below the surface.
The first salty drop that hit my tongue had me groaning in satisfaction.
Ambrosia. I guzzled and gulped, slurped and sucked. The hunger in my belly finally abated. Turned out my taste buds were fine, and so was my appetite. I simply needed the right thing to satisfy, and that ended up being blood.
BLOOD!
As sanity returned, I realized what I did and recoiled, a tad too late.
Gavin lay on the ground, eyes wide open and unseeing.
Dead.
Fuck.
A glance around showed no one watching, that I could see. The late hour had most people in bed. The apartment complex only had a few glowing windows. Still, anyone could peek out and see me with the body.
I rose to my feet ready to flee to my apartment only to pause as a thought struck me.
If I left Gavin here, he would be discovered, an investigation would be launched, and seeing as how I’d had him arrested and charged, would likely be their prime suspect.
His neck showed a distinct set of teeth marks and I’d seen enough CSI shows to know they could take a mold of my mouth and match the dentition.
I was so fucked. I’d murdered a man and would end up going to jail because I highly doubted a judge would care for my excuse. He was an asshole. Which explained why I’d killed him but not why I drained him of blood.
The epiphany hit me hard a second later.
I really am a vampire.
Because of Cillian.
By that logic, what happened here was his fault. Keeping with that same reasoning, Cillian, as a vampire who killed on a regular basis, must have resources to handle a dead body.
I’d no sooner completed that chain of thought than I grabbed Gavin’s arm and began dragging him to my place, only to realize I left a clear trail.
Fuck.
I frowned as I scuffed the marks with my bare feet and eyed the body.
I’d been strong enough to stop Gavin from escaping me.
Did I have the strength to carry? Only one way to find out.
I crouched and snagged him by the arm, this time tugging and heaving Gavin over my shoulder.
I grunted as I stood then staggered slightly under the weight as I treaded back to my place.
But I did it. Look at me with super strength.
I dumped Gavin on my living room floor and then wondered how I could contact Cillian. I knew his last name and address. Would an internet search find his phone number? Doubtful. A guy like Cillian most likely kept his contact info unlisted.
I bit my lower lip. What should I do? I needed his help.
The drive to his place took a touch longer than expected because I got lost. When I did pull into the driveway, it appeared as if no one was home.
I rang the bell anyhow, and just about jumped out of my skin when the hot stud answered quickly, looking as delicious as before in his white untucked shirt, unbuttoned enough to show a bit of chest, and snug slacks.
Handsome, that was, until he spoke. “I knew you’d be back.” He oozed smugness.
I chose to not slap him for it. Or at least not until we solved my problem. “Didn’t have a choice,” I grumbled. “I’m a vampire.”
“You don’t say.”
“Not funny,” I grumbled. “I have a bit of an issue.”
“Hungry?”
“Not anymore.”
“You drank the bag of blood I sent over?”
“No. It kind of got destroyed in my microwave” I admitted.
His brow arched. “Did the instructions not explicitly say to warm using a pot?”
“Yeah, and you can bitch at me for being a shit cook later. We have a bigger problem.”
“Where’d you leave the body?” He correctly guessed my reason for showing up on his doorstep.
I pointed to my car. “It’s in the trunk.”