Chapter 5 Surprise, it’s a Vampire!
“What the fuck !” I scream again, scrambling for the dirty pan on the stovetop. I white-knuckle the handle and hold it close, ready to swing if he comes for me.
But the man in my kitchen doesn’t even flinch. In fact, he’s calm and collected, as if I’m not brandishing iron. “Do you intend to hit me with that?”
He must be out of his mind.
I brace myself, ready to swing.
“I’m hurt,” he says with a roll of his eyes, which aren’t brown, I realize. I couldn’t see it at first, but they’re strikingly crimson. There’s a brightness to them that moves in the light, revealing the true nature of the color in them.
He goes for the coffeepot, which is full of freshly brewed coffee.
My memory comes up blank as I try to remember filling it and setting an alarm.
The man takes my silence in stride and picks up the mug I leave on the counter for myself and fills it.
The fucking audacity. No one drinks from my cup, ever.
I should hit him for that alone, but I still can’t make myself move.
“You don’t remember me?” he asks, a teasing smile pulling at his pale lips. They’re just a shade darker than his actual complexion, which is a shade off from being peachy. He leans against the counter as he brings the mug to his lips, pinning me with his questioning gaze.
“Should I?”
He steps closer, and I raise the pan higher.
“Your cuts have healed.” He ignores me and, avoiding the pan altogether, reaches a hand out for my forehead. I shut my eyes and swing.
Where there should have been some kind of solid thwack from iron breaking bone, I’m met instead with resistance.
The shock shoots into my hands and up my arms, vibrating my already sore muscles with a fresh sting.
I yelp, and the pan falls to the floor between my feet, narrowly missing my toes.
I bring my hands to my chest and cradle them there, swearing at myself for being so weak.
The man looks annoyed. “Don’t do that again.”
“Fuck off,” I snap.
“Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, did we?” I can’t see his expression behind the coffee mug as he takes a drink, but there is an unmistakable hint of amusement in his eyes.
“Who the fuck are you?” I ask again, still cradling my hands. They aren’t as numb, but the feeling isn’t altogether back yet. “And why are you wearing my clothes? What the hell is going on?”
He doesn’t answer me, which makes me feel like he’s messing with me on purpose.
“Did we fuck?” I assert.
“We did not,” he says finally, lowering the mug to the counter.
“That’s good.” I swallow. “Really good. That means I didn’t get completely blasted.”
“Blasted?” He blinks.
“Drunk,” I say, lowering my hands to my sides. “Still, that doesn’t explain my short-term memory loss. So, who are you and why are you in my house?”
For a very long minute, he assesses me. I can’t make heads or tails of what he’s thinking.
Not a single readable expression passes over his handsome face.
I try to put that thought from my mind, though, because I shouldn’t find anything about this asshole attractive.
Let alone his face or the way my pants hug him a little too tightly.
“You don’t remember?” He tilts his head.
“Evidently not.”
“I fully expected you to be sore,” he says plainly, which borders on disinterest. “But I wasn’t expecting memory loss. Mortals are much more sensitive than I initially thought.”
“Mortals?” I hate how my voice rises with my panic. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means exactly what I said. You’re mortal.” The man sighs and crosses his arms. “And I’m a vampire.”
“What?”
Mischief dances in his eyes as he flashes his teeth, exposing his top and bottom canines. They appear normal at first, but then they extend into four fine points. I’m paralyzed, but still, I’m unable to accept that as proof. Stupidly, I say, “Okay, you’ve got fangs. So what?”
The look he gives me is incredulous.
“There are other ways to convince you.” He leans in closer to me, hovering above my face by a few inches. “For example, I could compel you to walk outside naked right now, and you wouldn’t be able to refuse me.”
A chill runs down my spine, and I swallow. “Nope. The teeth are fine.”
“That’s what I thought.” Straightening again, he holds out a hand. “We’ve already been through this, but I’m Gray.”
Hesitant at first, I take his hand. Smooth, cool skin slides against my palm. Fingers brush against the inside of my wrist, stoking a response from my body that feels like a slap to the face. All at once, my memories come back to me at an alarming rate.
Halloween at the club; the late night walk home; the stalker in the shadows.
I remember being chased into the old church a few blocks from String Theory, and I remember the pain.
Gods, do I remember the pain. It doesn’t hurt now, but somehow I can feel the phantom grip of two hands choking me to death.
How could anyone forget about almost dying?
But then, I did forget about a vampire biting me, too.
“Oh…”
“There it is.” The vampire grins.
“I tripped over you,” I say, stuck on the flashing memories I can recall of the last few hours. The beginnings of a headache starts to form. It’s like my mind is opening a door it tried too hard to shut.
Pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes as everything blurs together.
I focus on separating the parts that don’t fit until they come away like the pieces of a puzzle.
From the church tower, to the moment I was about to take my last breath, and then him.
My fear and pain were so intense that a reanimated corpse barely registered.
He could have been a zombie, but more importantly, he thought I was a nun.
Which is almost enough to make me laugh even now, but I can’t.
“You killed that guy, too, didn’t you?” That was something I could have done without remembering. A dark room with only my phone’s flashlight to see; I saw the violence in the bite and the struggle from the man that assaulted me, fighting for his life.
“And I drank from him.” Gray nods. He isn’t shaken up one bit about it either.
Why would he be? He’s a fucking vampire!
“And you, Millie.”
“Me?”
“A bit.” He holds up his hand and pinches his fingers close together. The gesture isn’t lost on me. “It healed up beautifully, by the way. Your neck.”
One hand flies to my neck again. There’s nothing there. “You bit me?”
“You were very… willing.”
My chest constricts uncomfortably. “Willing? So we did fuck!”
“No.” He shakes his head, smirking. “Not in the way you think.”
“Oh my god.” I press my back into the wall as the realization sinks in. The pain I was in, the feeling of fire under my skin, it only went away when he…touched me. Even now, that touch is what jump started this whole thing. “Oh my GOD.”
“If it’s any consolation”—Gray ducks his head to my level again, a sultry expression on his handsome face—“in more ways than one, you were… sumptuous to taste.”
Not a single thing about him gives away any sort of lie. He’s telling the truth. The feeling of his solid arms holding me close, the press of his mouth to neck; it was all real. My legs shiver as my thighs press together, pulsing from the memory of his fingers moving inside me.
Holy shit. I try to swallow my shock, but it gets stuck in my throat. That’s what he meant when he called me a snack.
“I don’t do stuff like that with strangers,” I sputter, managing some sort of defiance. It’s a thin lie that I’m hoping he won’t question.
“I would never insinuate.” He backs away and sips his coffee, all business. “My blood had an unwanted response. If anything, what I did spared your suffering while it healed you.”
“That makes me feel a little better.” I guess.
“Don’t get me wrong.” He smiles wryly. “I did enjoy it immensely.”
My face heats. I bite my bottom lip and suck in a deep breath, hoping it helps to calm my shaking nerves. “Did I black out? How did we get back here?”
Before Gray can answer, my phone blares, vibrating against the aged hardwood floor, flashing Dax’s name across the screen.
He’s probably calling to see why I’m not there yet.
There’s no good way to tell someone that a vampire cornered me in the kitchen.
Even so, Gray reaches down and picks it up, passing it to me with ease.
“Better answer it,” he says.
The uncertainty I’m feeling mixes with anxiety and fear. If I was going to be a meal, I’d be dead by now, right? I reach for the phone and bring it to my ear.
“Cheeks? You there?” Dax is on the other end, his panic reflecting mine. “Did you leave yet? Where the hell are you?”
Unable to break my gaze from Gray, I manage a weak, “Sorry, Dax. I won’t be able to make it. Go ahead and put Trish up in my place.”
“Mil—”
I hang up, licking my lips. “Now what?”
“Well…” Gray leans against the counter languidly, as if he owns the place. “That’s entirely up to you now, isn’t it, Cheeks?”