Wake Me When the Sun Goes Down (Forged Bloodlines #1)

by Lisa Olsen

  “Oh please, you were still hot and heavy with her when I showed up with the movers.”

  “That was a goodbye kiss, I swear.”

  Ugh, what a pig. “Do you honestly think you’re helping your case right now?”

  “Your parents love me, doesn’t that count for something?”

  “Surprisingly, no. Then again, they don’t know anything about your walk on the wild side with Bridget.” I turned and took a step away from him and he reached out to grab hold of my arm.

  “Anja, she meant nothing to me, you’re the one I want. And when I saw you up there tonight… it was like… it was like I heard the voice of an angel telling me you’re the one.”

  “Get your hand off of me, Trent. I’m warning you.” I knew I was strong enough to break free. Heck, I was strong enough to tear his arm out of its socket, but I didn’t want to cause a scene.

  He ignored my advice though. “Just give me one more shot. I know we can make it work.”

  “I’m not kidding. If you don’t let me go, you’ll regret it,” I repeated the low warning, but his smile grew wider, his voice tinged with condescension.

  “You’re adorable when you’re angry, did you know that? Now why don’t you let me make things up to you?” He pulled me closer and my hand shot out, almost of its own volition, cracking him soundly across the cheek. He went down like a sack of potatoes, a bruise already starting to form there.

  “I’m sorry!” Christ, had I really hit him? I’d never hit another person before in my life. While on the one hand, it was exhilarating to show him he couldn’t push me around, I also felt awful for having knocked him out. What if I’d really hurt him? Good… a mean-spirited little voice inside whispered. “Trent?” I knelt down beside him, patting his cheek gently. A crowd of onlookers started to gather around, curious to find out what was going on and my cheeks blazed with the heat of embarrassment.

  “Five more minutes, Mom,” he murmured, nuzzling against my thigh, and I pushed him away. He was too hard headed to be seriously hurt. There was more danger of my reputation suffering serious injury. Thanks to my vampire hearing, I was privy to every whispered speculation.

  “He’s fine guys, nothing to see here.” Assured he would find plenty of assistance should he need it, I slipped out of there as fast as I could, eager to get outside into the night air. Instead of taking the bus as I usually did at night, I decided to walk to take advantage of the cooling breeze. After all, I wasn’t too afraid of getting mugged anymore after my show of strength. I hadn’t even been trying and I’d knocked Trent out cold. Even if someone shot or stabbed me, I would heal quickly, according to Bishop.

  Bishop.

  Nope. I wasn’t going to think about him, I had to start relying on myself. Sitting around at home every night hadn’t gotten me Prince Charming. All I’d gotten for my efforts were a cheating boyfriend, a surly but well meaning roommate, and a mysteriously absentee Sire. It was time to stop being a doormat and take control of my own destiny instead of waiting for someone to chart it out for me.

  Somehow I had to learn how to blend my old life with my afterlife. I had to learn how to push my boundaries and figure out what being a vampire meant to someone like me. So far I hadn’t felt the need to feed apart from when seeing fresh blood triggered the thirst. That was fine with me, because the idea of actually stalking someone and sinking my teeth into their flesh… kind of made mine crawl. I didn’t have the first clue how to go about hunting. Just because I knew I was capable of compelling someone into letting me feed on them and forgetting all about me didn’t mean I had the foggiest notion of how to go about it. I figured eventually the thirst would win, and instincts would kick in, but what if they didn’t? I needed answers, and there was only one place I knew of to get them.

  “Anja my dear, this is the first night of the rest of your life,” I murmured to myself as I turned onto my street. “Time to make the most of it.”

  * * *

  What did one wear to a vampire bar?

  That was the question I faced while standing in front of my closet. An interview with the Dean of Students? I had an outfit for that - a navy pencil skirt, pinstriped blouse and a pair of low heeled slingbacks. A performance - a black chiffon dress with a wide red sash around the waist and kitten heels. Hanging out at the local Java Hut - comfortable stretchy jeans with an off the shoulder pink sweater with a matching knit hat. But a vampire bar? The mind boggled.

  I imagined there were all manner of vampires in the world. One couldn’t think of vampires, especially female ones, without picturing a femme fatale, dressed in a scandalously, low cut dress, with blood red lips and waves of black hair spilling over bare shoulders, but that wasn’t me at all. An older vampire of my supposed age would probably wear something refined, more like the chiffon dress, but would a bar be the right venue for that?

  Bridget wasn’t home, and I had no idea if she was out for the night or due home at any second. Feeling brave, I snuck into her room to steal a peek at her disorganized closet. Now there were clothes any vampire could sink their teeth into, if you’ll pardon the phrase. More of a club goer, Bridget’s clothes tended to be sexier, tighter and more adventurous than mine. Of course that was also true of a librarian, so almost anything was a step in the right direction.

  I pulled out a black and purple corset top and held it up skeptically. It showed off so much skin… But it was time to try new things, right? I struggled to get into the thing, wondering how she managed to get dressed without help if her clothes were always so tight. A black leather mini-skirt was next, and four inch heels I was sure I’d kill myself in, but thanks to my added dexterity after dark, I didn’t have much of a problem managing. As an afterthought, I picked up a stiff leather riding crop, wondering what she used that for.

  A stranger looked back at me in the mirror, and I wasn’t so sure I liked the effect. I definitely didn’t look like the type of girl to be messed with, that was for darn sure. I almost wished Bishop could see me dressed up like that. Would he be able to dismiss me so easily?

  “Is this what you do every night while I’m at work? Steal my shit and play mistress of pain?”

  Bridget’s voice caught me by surprise and I whirled, dropping the riding crop with a thud. Geez, where was my vampire spidey sense? “I’m sorry. I just… I felt like going out tonight and my stuff is so…”

  “Antique?” she smirked.

  “Exactly.”

  “And you thought you could help yourself to mine?” She retrieved the crop from the floor and stuck it between her dresser and the wall. It occurred to me that she was actually embarrassed I’d found it. I didn’t think she even knew how to be embarrassed, but then again I hadn’t given her cause to be before.

  “I didn’t think you’d mind. Friends share stuff, right? Like the milk.” She never bought milk, she drank mine. It bothered me for about a month, and then I started buying a bigger container.

  “Yeah okay, whatever.” Bridget gave a careless shrug, already over her short display of vulnerability. “Where are you going? A strip club?” she snorted.

  “What? No… is that what I look like?” My eyes returned to the mirror, I didn’t think I looked that slutty.

  “Relax, you don’t look that bad, it’s just…” She examined me with a critical eye. “This isn’t the right look for you.”

  “I know, that’s why I’m trying something new. I don’t want to look like me anymore,” I insisted. “Couldn’t you help me with this, Bridge? I don’t want to go out looking like a stripper, but something a little more…”

  Bridget studied me a moment longer, before an eager gleam came into her eye. “Yeah, I think I can work with this,” she grinned.

  For the next half hour I let her play Rocker-Barbie dress up with me, as she tried and discarded clothing combinations I never in a zillion years would have come up with. I had to keep reminding her that my definition of slutty was a little different than hers. I wanted to learn to crawl before I could walk,
and she seemed bent on pushing me from the crib at a dead run.

  In the end I emerged in a fire engine red top that showed more cleavage than I would have liked, but at least I could wear a bra with it. Below I wore a short, black skirt with black seamed stockings. A pair of silver cuff styled bracelets adorned each wrist and a black velvet choker encircled my neck, a black ceramic rose dangling over the hollow of my throat. The only thing that remained from my original selection was the pair of four inch heels. After that it was another half hour in the bathroom doing hair and make up. If I’d known it would take that long, I might not have gone to all the trouble. Were there women out there that regularly went through such a rigmarole every day?

  I had to admit, the end effect was definitely different. My blue eyes sparkled beneath the sooty black lashes and silver eye shadow, and I felt decidedly vixen-ish in the dark lipstick she selected.

  “Damn, girl, I didn’t even know you had boobs,” Bridget grinned over her handiwork and I tried to take that as a compliment.

  “Thanks, I think.”

  “So, where are we going?” she asked, transferring her phone and wallet to a spangly little purse.

  “Ah, I was going to a bar called The Bleeding Heart, ever heard of it?”

  “No, but we can look it up on my phone on the way, come on.” She linked her arm through mine, tugging me towards the door.

  “You’re coming with me?” I blinked.

  “You don’t think I’m gonna waste this on a night alone on the couch, do you?” she gestured to her outfit. She ended up wearing the leather miniskirt with a Paramore t-shirt cut to reveal most of her midriff and knotted in the back to pull tight across her breasts. Low heeled boots and plenty of sparkly bangles completed the outfit. “Come on, let’s have a little fun,” she grinned and I found myself smiling back.

  “Let’s do it.”

  * * *

  The club ended up being called the Bleeding Hart, not heart, as in a male deer. Their logo was a white deer leaping past a blood red moon. An odd choice for a vampire bar, but then again, I had no basis for comparison. I had no idea if it was a private club or not, and was all set to try and charm my way past the doorman, when he seemed to recognize right away that I was a vampire and let us by with a nod before I could think of a convincing lie. With a grateful smile, I strode into the lion’s den, hoping I looked more like predator than prey.

  Bridget didn’t bat an eye at my nerves, chalking it up to my general lack of experience in such things and made a beeline for the bar. I hovered near the door, scanning the room, telling myself I was trying to see if there were any other vampires present, but who was I kidding? I was looking for one vampire alone. I spotted him right away, sitting at a corner table with Mason and an Asian guy, his eyes hooded beneath a dark scowl. Yep, that was him alright.

  Without preamble, Bishop approached me, robbing me of the chance to bump into him accidentally. “What are you doing here?” he demanded in a low voice.

  “Getting a drink, same as you,” I tried for a nonchalant shrug, but I started to feel awfully warm again.

  “That’s not why I’m here. I can’t believe you brought your friend to a place like this.”

  “She has a name,” I frowned. Why did he have to be so cranky all the time?

  “I don’t want to know her name.” Bishop scowled, but then he seemed to tamp down whatever bothered him. When he spoke again, he sounded more concerned than angry. “You’d better keep an eye on her, it’s dangerous to bring a human to a vampire bar.”

  “There are other humans here.” I looked around, I could spot them easily in the crowd, though there were only a few.

  “I didn’t say it was forbidden, I said it was dangerous.”

  “She can take care of herself.” That and I planned to make sure she survived the experience without learning what kind of a bar she’d been to.

  “Can you?”

  It almost sounded like he cared… but he was probably worried about the place erupting into bloodshed on his watch. “I’ll be alright.” My chin came up in determination.

  “Just try and keep a low profile, alright?”

  “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine,” I replied with more confidence than I felt. More than anything I wanted to reach out and touch him, see him look at me with something other than disappointment, but for whatever reason, he decided I wasn’t worth his time. So, instead of following after him like a puppy and insinuating myself into his conversation with Mason like I wanted to do, I turned to join Bridget at the bar.

  In addition to the long, mahogany bar and the leather booths lining the walls, there were little round tables sprinkled along the edges of an open space that could be a dance floor, though nobody was on it. A single waitress wove her way through the tables and an old fashioned cigarette girl offered smokes and other party favors as well. I supposed vampires didn’t have to worry about lung cancer. That didn’t make it smell any better though, as easily half the patrons were enjoying a smoke. Buried beneath the smell of alcohol and the haze of smoke, the scent of something else… something delectable teased the edge of my senses.

  “You don’t have to hang out here with me if you’d rather go cozy up to your friend,” Bridget was already working on her beer as I approached the bar.

  “He’s not my friend,” I muttered sourly.

  “Could have fooled me. He’s staring at you like you’re a cool drink on a hot, sweaty day.”

  My eyes went back to his corner, but Bishop didn’t seem to be paying any attention to me at all, he was deeply engrossed in conversation with the other two. Mason gave me a lopsided grin though and I waved at him in return with a faint smile.

  “Who’s your friend?” The bartender sidled up with an appreciative smile for Bridget.

  “You two know each other?” I blinked. I knew she hadn’t been to the bar before, what were the odds she’d know the bartender?

  “Oh yeah, we go way back, how long has it been, Scotty? Two… maybe three minutes?” Trust Bridget to make friends without any trouble at all.

  “Hey beautiful, what can I get ya?” Scotty grinned, looking me up boldly from head to toe. He wasn’t the type of guy I would normally talk to, he had more piercings visible on his face than anyone I’d seen before, but I knew from past experience with Bridget that looks could be deceiving. He was a vampire, which put us on the same side in my books. Ah, I was so naïve back then…

  “Ah… surprise me, something strong, okay?” I flashed him a tentative smile.

  “I’ve got just the thing,” he winked, pulling out several bottles of alcohol, to concoct a fruity but lethal looking drink.

  “I love this fucking song!” Bridget hopped off the barstool and took off for the dance floor, completely unheeding of the fact that no one else was dancing. Sometimes I really wished I had her lack of inhibition, but considering the way everyone in the bar now looked at her, I decided I was happier staying out of the limelight. The thing is, I was catching plenty of interest, I just didn’t know it yet.

  “Here you go,” Scotty slid the tall glass across the mahogany bar, watching me expectantly.

  I took a tentative sip, pleasantly surprised. “It’s good, what is it?”

  “Zombie with an extra kick of grenadine, glad you like it,” he beamed over my simple praise, swabbing at the counter with a wet towel. “This is the first time I’ve seen you in here, are you in town for long?”

  “I… haven’t decided yet, I’m sort of playing things by ear,” I answered noncommittally, remembering Bishop’s advice.

  “She’s going to be here a good long time,” a voice next to me said, and I turned to see a dapper man in his late twenties with dark hair and a closely sculpted beard smiling at me. He wore a fashionable suit of dark purple and diamond stud earrings winked from both of his ears. His accent sounded Australian, but subtle, not as broad as those ads on TV about shrimps on the barbie. “If we’re lucky, that is.”

  “I’m sorry, do I kno
w you?” I blinked, a little surprised at the interruption.

  “Not yet. I’m Leander, pleased to make your acquaintance. I own this establishment.”

  I accepted his offered hand, surprised when he bent over it, kissing the air above my wrist. “Nice to meet you, Leander, this is a nice place you have here,” I smiled politely. “But what makes you think I’ll be around for very long?”

  “Call it a psychic impression,” he grinned, eyes twinkling.

  “More like wishful thinking,” another voice interrupted from my left, and I turned, blinking in déjà vu. His double popped up wearing an exact copy of the suit, only in a muted blue. “I’m Jarrod, Leander’s elder brother and half-owner of the Hart. And you are?”

  “Overwhelmed…” I breathed, taking his hand. Everyone was so friendly… I started to feel like the belle of the ball.

  “You’re smothering her, Jarrod. I was greeting our pretty young miss.” Leander’s smile was brittle.

  “Poorly, you didn’t even ask her name,” his brother replied, unfazed.

  “Anja,” I said simply, leaving off my last name for the moment. “And I really should be getting back to my friend. How much do I owe you for the drink?” I looked to the bartender who had retreated a few feet with the arrival of the owners.

  Scotty shook his head with a half shrug. “Nothing, it’s on the house.”

  “Yes, of course it is. Anything you and your friend would care to order for the night is on the house,” Jarrod offered smoothly.

  “Oh, I couldn’t possibly accept…”

  “You’d best accept it, love. You wouldn’t want to see my brother when he’s been deprived of something he wants,” Leander quipped, and I wasn’t sure quite how to take that statement. Did he mean me, or was he being playful? “In fact, why don’t the two of you join us at our table?”

  I looked back to find Bridget on the dance floor, swaying to the beat with a total and complete stranger. For the space of a few seconds I gave myself a mental kick, some guardian I’d turned out to be. But once I realized the guy she danced with was human, I relaxed a little, figuring she could handle him. “Ah… yes, that would be very nice, thank you,” I nodded my assent, holding onto my glass with both hands when they each looked like they wanted to take my arm. Unfortunately, they both took that as an invitation of sorts and looped their arms through mine, escorting me to their table like oddly matching bookends.