Chapter 9
?
Nicknames weren’t in the brief, but I’m not complaining.
August
“So I’m a vampire who wants to drink your blood but who needs permission to do so, and I would usually charm you into giving me that permission like I do with my other victims, but you—being the descendant of a vampire hunter with saintly powers—are immune to my wiles?
” Dominic, bleary-eyed in his casket, squints at me over the character sheet I’ve just given him.
Nodding, I beam. “Yes, exactly!”
He drops his attention back to the brief I printed off for him and shoved into his hands the second he yawned awake and lifted the front half of his casket bed in a meager attempt to escape it. His eyes shift to me again. “Makes sense. Next question. Why…are you in here?”
“I’ve been writing. Since our guidelines clearly dictate that privacy and consideration are optional—” I splay my fingers in an optimistic little rainbow above my head. “—I figured you wouldn’t mind.”
Ali is safe! Ali is well! I have a new project! I have a new story!
It’s a bright, perfect, wonderful day.
Which is why I’ve been up for most of it, tip tapping away.
Dominic adorably rubs at one corner of his eye. “I believe there was a footnote that delineated privacy and consideration would be in effect whereby it concerned nudity. What if I slept naked? That would be a breach of contract.”
Silly boy thinks our guidelines were contractual? Oh, he is fun.
Curling a patronizing knuckle beneath his chin, I enjoy the immediate responding flush in his cheeks and murmur, “Oh, Dominic, Dominic, Dominic…it’s so cute when you forget who holds all the power in our relationship. Ready to back out yet?”
Darkness swells in his gaze, and he grips my wrist to plant my palm firmly against his mouth. He kisses, then scrapes his teeth toward my pulse, teasing it. “Not even a little bit, my darling saint. You?”
Sparks of excitement fire off in my brain. “Nope. By the way, I’ve decided you aren’t allergic to the sun.”
Bemusement knits his brows. “Thank…you?”
“Douitashimashite.” Rising, I slip my hand free of his taunting lips.
“Get up and get dressed. We’re going on an adventure.
To a winery. Or, more specifically, to the restaurant attached to a winery.
” Delighted, I clasp my fingers together.
“Red wine is aesthetically so pleasing in a vampire story, don’t you think? ”
“Oh, darling,” he murmurs, resting his cheek against his palm, “are you attempting to get me drunk this early in the morning?”
“Delirious drunk babbling is an excellent microtrope—especially when the participant is in love. What a marvelous addendum to my otherwise incredibly innocent scheme!” Pushing my hair back, I tug the scrunchie off my wrist and throw the dark strands into a bun.
“They open at eleven thirty, so we’ll be participating in other research first.”
A dry smile softens Dominic’s eyes. “Should I be scared?”
“If you’d like, you may pretend to be as a means of emotional manipulation.
Initially, your character was going to be smitten and angsty, but having a vampire crippled by the mere possibility of hurting his love with his desire for her blood felt a bit…
juvenile. I have since recognized the error of my ways and bestowed an immaculate amount of confidence upon you.
Your intentions are malicious in nature, your methods underhanded and depraved at their core.
You won’t hurt your lovely saint beyond repair because you’ve far better control than an immature youth.
If only the cruel matter of our situation didn’t bar you from indulgence, you’d drink your fill of me without hesitation.
Because, my dear vampire, although the sun cannot hurt you, the sunshine character can.
” I giggle, wildly. “It’s a play on the archetype and the fantasy.
A fresh take. I’m rather attached to it. What do you think?”
If Dominic turns any redder, I might consider taking him to the hospital. “Depraved, huh?” He averts his eyes. “Aren’t sunshine characters usually paired with grumps?”
“Like my brother?” My nose wrinkles. “No thanks. I prefer regal calm, an unapologetic yearning for control, and a tinge of mental instability that bridges on thorough insanity.”
“Got it.” He stretches his neck and shoulders before pulling himself from the lush, silken casket.
All the while, he reviews the character sheet clasped in his hand.
His lips purse, and he arches a brow, then he glances down at me.
With spare little warning, his hand reaches, and my soul flutters as his warm fingers take command of my chin.
His pinky skates down the line of my throat, facilitating a comfortable stretch.
He leans in, breath inches from my neck when he whispers in my ear.
“How’s this vibe sit with you, darling?”
“Yes, please.” My heart dances. “This is perfect.”
He hums, releases me, and returns his full attention to the pages, continuing to analyze them. “I see you’ve gone with true enemies—on opposing sides of a cause, devoid of personal distaste or character irritation. Would you be willing to elaborate your reasoning?”
“Mere bickering gets annoying after a minute,” I say, watching him as he peers around the room, crosses to my work desk, and gets a pen.
Fluttery, I continue while he takes notes, “Regular enemies also require an amount of ire that either stems from some valid flaw or some kind of misunderstanding. I don’t want a misunderstanding, and I don’t want a fundamental character flaw to be the predominant issue in my story.
You are flirty and unapologetic. You’re a vampire.
You need blood to live. You need permission to drink.
You use your charms to get it effortlessly.
That’s hot. I don’t want my female lead to pretend it isn’t hot, because that’s stupid.
My lineage as a saint and my noble cause are what demand we be at odds.
I’ve been raised to despise the parasites of this world, and I’ve slaughtered your kind before.
Our animosity is, literally, in our blood.
Despite that, you’re the first monster I’ve met who doesn’t resort to deranged violence when provoked.
Your differences of character prompt my internal conflict amid our banter and battle.
With you, it’s not a massacre. It’s a dance.
And, at some point after my heart begins to stumble, I’ll start wanting to protect you from me, worried what my saintly blood might do if I give in to my budding feelings and let you drink.
” I beam, ecstatic. “Basically, the reason behind my resistance changes, but the resistance remains. Isn’t that wonderful?
The slow burn just writes itself! It’s forbidden!
It’s impossible! It’s going to be so much fun.
” Assuming, of course, blushy boy can pull it off effectively. “Any questions?”
“Just one.” He clicks the pen closed, abandoning both it and the paper at my desk when he steps forward.
“Assuming you currently wish ill upon me…” He takes another step, lifts his hands, and frames my cheeks to commandeer my movement.
“…what’s stopping you from letting me have a taste now?
” His lips—cool and deliberate—graze my shoulder.
“If there’s a chance your blood is poison, what are you waiting for?
” He kisses. “Taint me. Let my gluttony be my own undoing.”
Holy wheat germ.
Okay. So. Blushy boy is going to do just fine.
Bleary-eyed and scarlet-cheeked, Dominic peers longingly up until our gazes meet. “Are you using your saintly powers already, darling? I feel weak.”
This is going to be thrilling.
“You have ten minutes,” I say, stepping out of his touch. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
Straightening, he cocks his head back and tucks his fingers in the pockets of his pajama pants, perfectly embodying everything I want his character to be.
The coolness in his confidence transports me into the story as he murmurs, “Wouldn’t dream of it,” and I know that if this continues, I might forget the line between reality and fiction.
Which, truly, is all I have ever wanted to do.
?
Dominic is practically a toy, and I know it’s probably not morally acceptable to think that, but I’m not the random stranger popping into a poor girl’s life, declaring love overnight, and submitting myself to her machinations.
As far as I’m concerned, there’s no moral superiority between us.
We’re both sitting pretty on the edge of nutcase, and that’s just fine with me.
Peering at the outfit I put together for him to try on, Dominic hums and tugs on the collar of the shirt to undo a button. “Wouldn’t a vampire wear darker attire?”
“Your angle is often using your charms to lull victims into a false sense of security. You’d not opt for unwelcomingly dark raiment.”
“Right…” He turns before the mirror, beholding the crisp white dress shirt paired with khaki slacks. “I at least need a shoulder cape, though, don’t I?”
I scan the men’s formal clothing section around us, turn to peer down the white tile floors, keep turning to find women’s clothing in a section a bit farther up, then full circle back to Dominic. “Sir, we are in Belk.”
“I can order one online.” Immediately, he pulls out his phone, tapping away. “Also.” He lifts his free hand and points clear across the store. “I want to see you in that.”
“I have no idea what you’re trying to direct my attention toward.”
He takes a few more moments on his phone, then he drops it back in his pocket and retrieves my hand. Lacing our fingers, he tugs me onto a stretch of white tile.
“Hey,” I protest, “you’re still wearing the clothes you tried on.”
“And?” We fully exit the men’s section while he’s still wearing clothes from the men’s section, which feels markedly illegal.
“You’ve abandoned your clothes in the dressing room.” Which is, also, very illegal. “You’ll never see them again.”