Chapter 6 A Century Asleep
“Sounds like you and I are in for a long night together.” Gray smirks and then straightens. He stretches his arms above his head, lifting the hem of the shirt to reveal his toned, flat stomach. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to freshen up in your bathroom.”
“Sure thing.” My jaw is on the floor, metaphorically speaking.
I’ve never felt like a guest in my own home before, but there I stand, unsure of myself.
Gray disappears from the kitchen in a flash of inhuman speed.
There one minute, then gone the next. I hear a door shut down the hallway a second later, followed by the unmistakable sound of aged pipes rattling in the wall to bring in the water.
I take a breath. Then several more.
Don’t lose your shit, I tell myself. Use this time to get it together, okay?
My phone goes off in my hand again. I know it’s Dax without even looking.
Hanging up on him mid-sentence is a cardinal sin.
If I don’t answer, he’s just going to keep calling and texting until he shows up at my house unannounced.
The problem with answering him, though, is that I have no reasonable explanation.
Instead of answering, I head for my bedroom and the books lining the one shelf on the wall.
The top row is dedicated to my favorite stories, which happily includes several vampire books.
I pull them all down onto the floor with me and rifle through their pages.
I know the basics, but I don’t know what’s true and what isn’t.
I mean, the guy was in my kitchen sucking down coffee like a trucker at a gas station.
After paging through the third book, I drop it and groan. This is crazy! I should be panicking, screaming, doing anything other than this.
My phone vibrates. It’s Dax again. Reluctantly, I pick up. “Hey.”
“Hey?” He sounds frantic. “First you’re late to work, then you hang up on me, and now you’re ignoring my messages? What the fuck, Millie!”
I distract myself with another book as we talk. “I’m sorry. Something came up.”
He’s quiet for a second. “It’s Ronnie, isn’t it?”
Fair assumption. Verity probably told him that she texted me, or he saw Ronnie in passing while doing the rounds.
I take my bottom lip between my teeth and chew.
I can’t tell him it’s because I have a vampire hiding out in my house.
So I take the bait and dig my heels in, even if Ronnie is the last thing I want to lie about.
“Yeah. I just…” I pause for effect. “I’m just not ready to see her yet.”
“You should have just said that,” he grumbles. I can almost picture him slumped down in his cracked leather seat, resigned to moping in his office. “You know I’d let you have the night off if you just asked.”
“I know.” And I do. He’s a great boss. “I guess I just panicked.”
He’s quiet again, as if contemplating his next words. “I got to talkin’ to Lilah.”
“And?” I set the book in my hand down between my legs. I guess we’re talking about this whether I want to or not. “What did Lilah say?”
“Said she was happy.” I can hear the shrug in his voice. “I guess they’re getting married in the spring. Fixing up an old house, too.”
I sigh. “That’s great. Really.”
“Is it?” He hesitates to go on, waiting for me.
My earlier mission is forgotten, replaced by the echo of all my past mistakes since Ronnie broke it off.
He’s trying to be my shoulder to cry on again, but I’ll admit, I don’t have a lot of tears left to shed on the subject.
I cried enough when it was all over, after she made me choose between her and my job.
If anything, I feel caught off guard by Ronnie and Lilah’s pending nuptials.
It never struck me that the reason Lilah might have left the club in the first place was so that she could be with Ronnie instead.
“Lilah was a good friend to both of us,” I start, staring at the chipped polish on my nails. “I’m sure it was natural for the both of them to end up together. I just didn’t know anything about it.”
Not that I have a right to know anything about Ronnie’s life anymore.
“She asked about you,” he says plainly. We might have sex occasionally, but deep down, I know Dax cares about me. He cares about everyone. He’s great like that. “Lilah, I mean. I told her you were doing good and you just took some time off.”
I can’t help but smile. Always looking out. “Thanks for that. I mean it.”
“No problem.”
I hear the sound of feet on the floorboards coming down the hall. That’s my cue. “Well, I’m going to sink into a bath and order out. I’ll text you.”
“Cool,” he says. “Night, Cheeks.”
“Night,” I say, knowing I owe him a big one. Maybe I’ll surprise him with donuts and a cinnamon latte as a thank you.
“A friend?” Gray’s deep, smooth voice drifts into my room.
When I turn around, I see him toweling off his hair, wearing the same outfit from before.
For someone who’s been wasting away in a church attic, he is really well built.
Tall, broad-shouldered, with muscles that just touch the surface of his abdomen.
I can’t help but ogle him a little. Not a lot of men can pull off a Hello Kitty tee and make it look hot.
Still, the man is in need of a haircut and a new wardrobe.
“My boss, Dax.”
”Dax? What an unusual name.” Gray raises a brow. “You said he’s your employer?”
“Yes, but that’s none of your business,” I say, jutting my chin out as I cross my arms over my chest. I want to appear as if I’m in control of the situation, since my first impression went horribly wrong. “I’m not answering any more of your questions, got it?”
He lowers the towel to his shoulders and tilts his head curiously. “Is that so?”
He’s been vague with me since the kitchen, and I’m second-guessing myself for not keeping the pan handy.
I should have held onto it, but for whatever reason, I don’t feel like I need it.
Maybe for intimidation’s sake, but Gray has already proven that he isn’t the kind of vampire who’s afraid of a woman wielding a frying pan.
“My house, my rules,” I declare. “I get to ask the questions now.”
“Fair enough.”
“So, talk. What happened?” I tilt my head, unable to pull my eyes away from the peekaboo of skin at his waistline. He’s wearing the gray sweats from earlier, and they’re doing very little to conceal what should be tucked away. My mind imagines a million different things, and I lick my lips.
Keep it in your pants, girl, I chide myself.
“Why don’t we relocate,” he suggests, gesturing towards my mess. “It’s a bit cramped in here.”
Heat seizes me. “Rude, but fine.”
I stand and grab a stray sweatshirt from the floor before marching out ahead of him.
I slip it over my head to conceal my outfit since I’m still dressed for the club.
It isn’t much, but I feel less naked with it on.
Having most of my tits out for a conversation with a vampire doesn’t exactly spell out ‘serious business.’ Once we’re in the living room, I take the seat closest to the front door. He smirks, as if that’s funny.
“Comfortable?” he asks, sitting across from me in the new armchair I bought last week from an estate sale. The highback Victorian look clashes badly with his fit, even though I could guess that he's older than the chair.
“Very,” I say, crossing my arms. “Your turn.”
“Very comfortable.” He nods.
“No. I mean, it’s your turn.” I frown. “What happened? How did we get back here?”
Gray reclines in the chair, legs spread wide. Folding his hands together, he rests them on his chest, eyes level with mine. “You were in and out of it, barely able to keep your eyes open. The scent of your blood was strong enough that I could trace you back to your home.”
“That’s not at all creepy,” I say, shivering.
“Would you have preferred to wake up inside the church tower, half-naked, beside a dead body?” he asks dryly. I huff a small ‘no’ in reply. “I thought not.”
“Okay, so how did we get in? Don’t vampires need to be invited inside?”
He nods. “We do, yes. And you did invite me in after I woke you up.”
“I don’t remember that.”
A smirk crosses his lips as he speaks. “There isn’t a lot that you do remember, sweet cheeks. That’s why we’re here.”
Ignoring his comment, I pull my sweatshirt closer and forge on. “Okay, so I invited you in, half-conscious?”
“Yes.”
Memory loss sucks. When the night’s events did come back, they faded just as quickly as a dream after waking. I keep trying to pull at them, but the details are murky now. It’s not just disappointing, it’s downright frustrating. I’m never getting drunk or stalked into a church again. Ever.
“How long were you up there?” I ask.
“As I said before. I was left there for a hundred years.”
“That does sound familiar,” I admit, though I’m a little embarrassed. Even after he touched me, some of the details are still fuzzy.
“I’ve had long sleeps before,” he says with a slight shake of his head, “but nothing so drastic as a century.”
“What did you do to deserve that?” My curiosity is getting the best of me.
“I was very naughty,” Gray admits, his eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Do I want details?”
“I’m a vampire. I’m sure you can guess what kind of horrible things I’ve done.”
He’s right. I can guess, and the second that I let my imagination run wild with it, I know I’ll regret it.
I have to keep myself composed for the sake of my sanity, and possibly my survival.
He hasn’t killed me yet, but that doesn’t mean he won’t later on.
There’s a strong chance he doesn’t want any witnesses to what he is or what I’ve seen.
“Let’s put a pin in that, okay?” After all, ignorance is bliss.
“Fine by me,” he says with a shrug.
“So, you brought me back home,” I continue, jumping back to my first question, “but that doesn’t explain why you’re still here.”
“I’m here because we made a deal.” He leans forward in his seat, elbows propped on his knees.
The point of his chin rests on his folded hands.
Long, white, beautiful fingers tangle together.
It’s a simple pose, but it feels precise and alluring.
I find myself leaning in, too, even though there’s more than ten feet between us.
It’s like he oozes appeal, and with a face like his, I’m sure he got himself into trouble daily.
All of my favorite books about vampires note their beauty, but somehow underplay the danger of that. The way he’s looking at me is nothing short of unnerving, yet arousing.
“A deal,” I repeat. “And what kind of deal was it?”
“It was simple. I heal you, you help me.”
Help him? How am I supposed to help a vampire who’s fresh out of a century long imprisonment?
That’s a huge deal! Then again, given our circumstances, I’m sure anyone in my position would have done the same.
When I stop to consider that, I realize the only other living person in the room who could have intervened was the one who tried to kill me in the first place.
And he was now dead, so I guess I got the better end of the bargain.
“Define ‘help,’” I say.
“It’s quite broad, I’ll admit.” Gray closes his eyes. “The last time I was awake, it was still 1924. I am mostly well-adapted to new situations, but this time… help is necessary.”
“I think I get the gist of it,” I say and let out a long breath. Being cryptic must come with the territory of being undead.
“Then you understand my position, yes?”
When Gray opens his eyes again, I’m struck by the fear I see in them. It catches me off-guard. One hundred years is a lot, and plenty of major things have happened during that time. Hell, my childhood was riddled with progress. I saw dial-up become Wi-Fi.
It’s clear that I’m not seeing this from his perspective, because when I think about it, the culture-shock alone would be enough to make my palms sweat.
“So, I help you, and then what? You leave?” I push. “You go back to terrorizing people?”
“What does it matter what I do when I’m gone?” he asks seriously.
“Excuse me if the idea of a vampire running loose around the city isn’t all that appealing to me.
I’ll work on fixing my moral compass to better serve you,” I say with a little too much attitude, even if my point is justified.
He can’t exactly be mad at me for calling him out when he just admitted to doing awful things prior to his century-long visit to church camp.
But I’m mistaken. He’s angry. In fact, he’s so angry that he blurs over to where I’m sitting and cages me in with his body. I lean as far back into the seat as humanly possible, too afraid to move. He’s scary fast.
“Better that you do, sweet cheeks. And fast,” he says, baring his teeth. “The sooner I know the world, the faster we can be rid of one another. Understood?”
I don’t say anything. He really could kill me. And the worst part? It would be quick. With the way he moves, I would never see him coming. Knowing that drains what little defiance I have left inside of me.
“I’m willing to beg,” he rasps, moving away from me. There isn’t a trace of anger left in his expression, but the fear remains. “That’s how desperate I am.”
Swallowing my own fear, I finally speak. “Okay.”
“Okay?” he echoes. “You’ll help me?”
I nod, recalling his words to me from last night. “But only because you asked so nicely.”