Chapter 11
11
C ole watched Vanessa dress in a hurry. He could still taste her on his tongue, and it drove him insane with lust. He wanted more of her. It felt as if he was slowly getting addicted to her. He couldn’t recall ever feeling anything like that for any of the other prostitutes he’d slept with in the last two decades. There was a self-confidence around her that only accentuated her beauty. She was strong, both in body and in mind. She struck him as a determined woman who could get anything she wanted. So why was she working as a high-class escort? Did she like the power she had over men? The power she had over him? Was this why she was leaving now, to show him that she was holding the reins? That she would decide whether to give him more of her time?
With a last look at him, Vanessa left his condo. When she was gone, and silence descended around him, he realized that he’d forgotten to pay her. Why had she not reminded him? Something about her didn’t add up. But that wasn’t the only thing that now bubbled to the surface of what he could only assume was a horror-addled mind.
As if he’d been drugged. How else could he explain that instead of questioning Vanessa about the vampire attack in detail, he’d made love to her? How had his body even been able to think of sex, when the horror of being attacked by a real-life vampire was still so fresh? And why had Vanessa been so calm about killing a vampire? She hadn’t flinched at all, in fact, he’d seen no fear in her whatsoever. As if killing vampires was a daily occurrence for her. What was she? A prostitute slash vampire slayer?
Even he had to shake his head at that. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. Vampires didn’t exist. They only lived in literature, the movies, and on TV. Not in San Francisco. It was against all laws of science and nature. Yet he couldn’t deny that the monster attacking him had been stronger than him despite his smaller size.
Cole touched the wound on his neck. It was undeniable that he was injured. He walked into his bathroom and stopped in front of the mirror. The angry red lines across his chest were clearly visible. He traced the four gashes with his fingers, and noticed that the distance between them could indeed lead to the assumption that a claw had caused them. It was also what it had felt like: razor-sharp blades cutting into his skin.
He turned his head sideways and leaned over the sink to get a better look at the injury on his neck. The lacerations were round and deep, but there were more than two. He squinted. By the looks of it there were five or six. Didn’t a vampire have only two fangs? He tried to recall what had happened after the bastard had tossed him against the wall with such force that Cole had been stunned as if attacked with a taser. The moment he’d been able to catch his breath, the asshole had already gone for his neck. He’d fought him off once, forcing him back, but the second time his attacker had come at him harder, first slashing him across the chest with his hand that had looked like it belonged to Edward Scissorhands, then going for his neck again.
The second time, he hadn’t been able to fight him off, and while he’d continued to try, his limbs weren’t following his brain’s command any longer. He’d felt paralyzed. Vanessa had come out of nowhere, and at that point he’d thought he was dreaming. In a way, he still was. But the injuries told a different story. The attack was real, not a nightmare.
And Vanessa had saved him, and then promptly left after he’d made love to her. To go to work! That gnawed on him. She was going to sleep with another man after climaxing in his arms. The thought made him furious, particularly after he’d started confiding in her why he wasn’t in a relationship. She was the first woman who he’d felt comfortable to talk to about his fears. Declining his offer that he’d pay her for the entire night had stung. Was she doing this as a means to drive up her price? By showing him that he wasn’t her only client? As if he didn’t know how desirable she was. He was fully aware of her irresistible charms.
Next time he’d be more careful about opening up, because whenever he did, he got hurt.
His cell phone pinged with a message. He tapped on it. It was from Drake. He’d set up a meeting with the man he’d mentioned. Cole checked the time. He had one hour before the meeting. He clicked on the address and realized that it was in Pacific Heights, not too far from where he was right now. However, the address didn’t seem to be a house or a restaurant, but a small park.
How will I recognize him? Cole texted back.
He’ll recognize you.
Cole let out a breath. Was it wise to meet a stranger at the edge of a park in the middle of the night after everything that had just happened? It was fishy. But what were the odds that he’d get attacked twice in one right? Pretty slim though not nil.
I’ll be there.
Cole placed the cell phone on the vanity and started undressing. He needed a shower to get the remainder of the blood off him and wash his hair that felt like it had been sprayed with dust. A vampire’s dust. Or did they call it ash? Either way, he felt disgusted by it all. Yeah, he could accept that vampires existed, but he wasn’t going to take it lying down. Next time, he’d be prepared.
Cole reached into the shower to turn on the water, and tested the temperature before he stepped inside. He closed his eyes and let the warm water wash over him. Maybe tonight he would finally get the answer he’d been looking for all his life.