WG2E All-For-Indies Anthologies: Spooky Shorts Edition

by Scott, D. D.

“Yes,” I replied, giving her a grin almost certain to reveal the tips of my fangs.

  Let her see them. Give her a thrill.

  Her eyes widened as she stared at my mouth.

  “Cool. Let’s dance, Gerard.” Reaching out, she took me by the hand and pulled me into the midst of twisting, twitching and gyrating bodies.

  When we got to a relatively open spot, Becky did a butt bouncing dance move.

  Ooooh, baby, baby.

  But even as part of me noticed her alluring, sexy moves, another part of me was curiously untouched. Getting more teenage blood and booty than I could handle had turned boring, I realized. Maybe I was beginning to believe my own Craigslist ad. Maybe I had something in common with Iridescent Ed after all. A longing for love. Not just a wham, bam, suck you ma’am. A true love of my unlife. My very own heroine who would love me for myself—in spite of myself. But I hoped one that wasn’t sulky with a perennially pissed-off expression like Ed’s girl.

  Becky rubbed herself along me before stepping back and wiggling in time to the beat of the music. I wondered if she could be the one. My heroine. She could couldn’t she? She had the full package as far as looks. Plus, she seemed sweet inside and out. In fact, her blood smelled like honey.

  Why couldn’t I fall in love with her?

  The song changed to “What Makes You Beautiful”—A slow one. Becky swung herself into my arms and the two of us swayed together. She gazed up at me with adoration shining from her eyes.

  “You’re a really good dancer,” Becky cooed.

  “Thanks.”

  But how would I know if she was the one? Waiting until the third date to bite her might help. But could I manage the restraint?

  And even if I did bite her tonight, I didn’t need to drain her dead, did I? Waiting to see if something real developed between us wouldn’t kill me.

  Becky went up on tiptoes, her hands on my chest and whispered in my ear, “Let’s go out to my car and neck.” The sound of the high-pitched giggle that followed her statement was as intoxicating as the hint of jasmine in her perfume.

  And more intoxicating was the pulse in her carotid artery. The feel of the beat of her heart through her perfect breasts pressed so tight against me sent me over the edge. I could only take so much temptation.

  Yet….Look at that innocent face, I thought. I just had to give her a chance to back away.

  “Becky,” I said, shaking my head. “You overwhelm me. I’m not…a good guy. What if I hurt you?”

  She smiled. “You won’t hurt me.”

  Oh my God. She trusts me.

  Well, I would struggle to be worthy of that trust. I would try to hold back sucking her dry, but it wouldn’t be easy.

  “All right,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  She jumped up and down, clapping in delight. She acted as if I’d given her a lovely present. Then she grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the exit.

  No. It wouldn’t be easy restraining myself. But loss of control wouldn’t be my fault. If I killed her, it would be because of those sparkly vampires. Real vampires couldn’t go for months without burying their fangs deep in succulent, young skin. Nor resist the allure of sucking down honey-sweet blood. That self-denial thing just wasn’t natural.

  Or maybe a vampire could deny himself if the girl was his soul mate. The one.

  Yes. That’s right. This would be a test then. Was Becky the one?

  Outside, in the parking lot, she took me to a dark sedan. Becky opened the back driver’s-side door and pushed me in.

  “Scoot over,” she instructed, followed by more tantalizing giggles. I moved so that she could join me.

  She reached between the front seats to insert the key in the ignition and turn it enough to make the dashboard light up. She punched at the control buttons of the CD player and a song came blaring out of the speakers: “Paradise by the Dashboard Lights”.

  “One of my favorites,” she said, collapsing back against the seat next to me. “It’s the perfect length.”

  She reached up a hand to caress my face, running her fingers up my cheekbone and then twining them into my hair. Her tone as she said the words was provocative, seductive. A double entendre?

  “Perfect length for what?” I asked, adopting a similar tone.

  “You’ll see.” She leaned in and placed her lips against mine in an open-mouth kiss.

  Naughty.

  This was going to be harder than I thought because not only did her blood sing to me, making my fangs ache, some of my other of my equipment was hard and aching now too.

  Becky pulled back. “Can I have a look at your fangs again?”

  Tilting my head to the side, I considered her. “Sure,” I said with a sigh and then opened my mouth.

  “Wow.” She wiggled against the pleather seats and placed a hand against my chest. “You really are one,” she gushed. “Your skin is cold, your teeth are real and I can’t feel any heartbeat.”

  The vampire trappings turned her on big time.

  But now that I thought about it, she hadn’t asked me anything about myself—about Gerard—the entire night.

  I’m more than just a vampire, I thought. I’m a person. And Becky didn’t seem at all interested in finding out about the real me.

  Just as Meatloaf sang about how it never felt so good, it never felt so right, I couldn’t help but think Becky and I didn’t seem right together. She wasn’t the one after all.

  “Can we try something?” she said.

  “What?” I asked, fed-up.

  Just drain her and move on.

  “Close your eyes,” she replied.

  Indulging her for a bit longer, I lowered my lids. I could finish her off any time I wanted.

  After a few moments, I heard a click.

  My lids flew up. I wore handcuffs, the fuzzy pink fur variety.

  Chuckling, I held up my bound hands. “What’s this?”

  Maybe she was not only into the sparkly vampires. She could also be a fan of that new book with the BDSM theme. Hmmm. Interesting.

  “Now that you have me shackled, what are you going to do with me,” I joked in a low, seductive tone.

  “I’m going to…” Becky reached into the pocket on the back of the driver’s seat and came out with a wooden stake. Ornately decorated with carvings and a silver tip, but a stake nonetheless.

  “I’m going to kill you for the final time.” Her words were delivered in a serious alto. No more Betty Boop voice or girlish giggles. She was serious. This was no game.

  Okay, now she’d made me mad. I would shred Beck into fleshy confetti faster than you could say Dracula.

  Growling, I tugged, expecting the links holding the cuffs to disintegrate under my inhuman strength. Shockingly, they held. My growls changed to screeches of outrage as I pulled, trying to exert greater power. But my struggles were to no avail. My legs and body seemed almost paralyzed even though not physically restrained.

  All the while Becky sat contemplating me with a patient, tolerant and confident smile.

  Finally, spent with the effort to break free, I subsided against the seat. I felt weak, sleepy almost. Too tired to even ask the question.

  “There’s pure silver underneath the fur of those handcuffs,” Becky explained to my wordlessness.

  I blinked as it took a few minutes to comprehend the meaning of what she’d said. She’d planned this! The Bitch!

  “You know, Gerard,” she said. “Not all of us are Twi-Hards. Some follow that other pop icon. The teen girl who doubles as a vampire slayer.”

  “I guess I was distracted by the shiny objects.” My voice was barely audible. “The sparkling vampires.”

  “Yeah. That author really has made my job so much easier,” Becky said, nodding. “You vampires all came out of the coffin so to speak. You guys don’t even hide anymore. You advertise on Craigslist, for God’s sake. Makes picking you off a breeze. I really should send a note to that author, thanking her. What’s her name?

  “I don’t re
member either,” I mumbled.

  “Oh well. I’ll do a Google search later.” Becky lifted her hand, the one holding the stake. “Goodbye Gerard,” she said before giving a toothy smile.

  The green light from the dashboard glinted off the silver tip as the stake moved in an arc toward my chest. The agent of my final death sparkled and then I knew no more.

  The End

  ABOUT P.R. MASON

  P.R. is the award-winning author of young adult paranormal romance and urban fantasy fiction. She also writes steamy romantic suspense and thriller fiction under the pen name Patricia Mason. Pat moved to the strange and wonderful city of Savannah, Georgia in 2001 where she now happily spends her days as the subject of her cat overlord’s mind control experimentation. You can learn more about Pat and her work at her websites www.patriciamason.net and www.prmason.net