by Mari Mancusi
“Also, you know, there’s the whole first degree murder thing,” I added.
He laughed. “Yes. Also it’s murder,” he agreed. “And if the cops started finding a bunch of dead bodies in alleyways, drained of blood, they might start getting suspicious.”
“So…where do you get your blood then?” I asked, praying he was going to say steak bought from the local butcher. But in my heart I knew I wasn’t going to be that lucky.
“From donors,” he explained instead. “People who we contract to give regular blood donations. After a strict vetting process, of course. Lots of testing.”
“Uh, why would anyone sign up for that?”
He shrugged. “We pay very well. It’s actually quite a good part time job. Great for single moms, for example. They can set their own hours, don’t have to deal with day care.”
I let out a low whistle. They really had an answer for everything, didn’t they? “Good to know if I ever need some extra cash,” I joked. “Just open a vein and start printing money.”
To my surprise, Logan’s face fell. He gave me a disappointed look. “You still don’t believe,” he said. It wasn’t a question.
“Believe people are sucking other people’s blood in here?” I asked. “No. I definitely believe that. I even believe you pay them for the privilege.” I added. “Hell, I know plenty of my more…serious…fans do the whole bloodletting thing. And, honestly, it’s great to know you screen people first because I always thought it seemed like a really risky thing to do.
“But,” I continued, “Do I think these people here are actual vampires? Immortal, all-powerful creatures who need blood to survive?” I shook my head. “Sorry, but no.”
He nodded, still looking disappointed, but at the same time, not surprised. As if he expected this answer. It made me wonder, suddenly, if this was part of his overall plan. He had to know, deep down, that real vampires didn’t exist, right? And therefore he had to know he’d never actually convince me. Which meant he had to have some other motive for bringing me here. Like, maybe this was some convoluted pretense to get me out on a date. After all, he had to know there was no way I’d agree to any of this otherwise.
It was pretty brazen, if it were true. And pretty complicated, too. But then the alternative—that he actually believed in vampires? That was even more ridiculous.
I frowned, the new theory annoying me more than I wanted to admit. I mean, here I was, in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night. Surrounded by a bunch of freaks who got their rocks off drinking people’s blood. Was this my penance for writing the books I did? After all, my novels celebrated this kind of behavior. Made it seem cool—romantic even. But now, as I watched a couple of junkie looking teens, pale and malnourished, limp from the bloodletting rooms and collapse on the couch, I felt a little nauseated. Was I the cause of any of this?
Maybe I needed to switch to detective novels for my next book…
Logan’s gaze bore down on me. “A little too real for you?”
I winced. “Can we just…go back to the main room? I think I’ve seen enough.”
He nodded and led me out of the room, down the hall, and through the door, back into the club. By this point the music had changed. From the moody goth to a more electronic beat. Fast, driving. In other situations, I might have thought it kind of cool. Now I was too frazzled. And I found myself glancing longingly at the bar.
Logan caught my gaze. “Need a drink, huh?” he asked.
“Is it that obvious?”
He grabbed my hand, leading me over to the bar. We sat down on the stools and I ordered a Moscow Mule. He got a glass of Cabernet. I eyed his drink suspiciously as the bartender set it down in front of him.
“Is that blood?”
He laughed. “Blood of the gods,” he teased. Then he pushed his glass in my direction. “It’s wine,” he told me. “Taste it if you like.”
I leaned over to sniff his drink. Sure enough it smelled like wine. I let out a breath of relief.
“Sorry,” I said. “It’s just…well, this has been a weird night.”
“I should be the one to apologize,” he said. “Dragging you out here like this.”
I waved my hand. “Honestly, it’s more interesting than that stuffy charity event. No offense.”
He laughed. A rich, deep, throaty laugh. “Fair enough.”
I bit my lower lip. “Did you…really just plan that whole thing to get my attention?”
“It worked, didn’t it?”
“So does email. And it doesn’t cost thirty thousand dollars.”
“I don’t do email.”
“Oh right. Cause you’re a thousand-year-old vampire. I forgot.”
He sighed. “I haven’t convinced you of anything, have I?”
I gave him a rueful look. ‘Sorry.”
“It’s all right,” he said, reaching out and taking my hand in his, stroking it gently. I swallowed hard. I knew I should pull away, but at the same time it felt kind of nice. Which was crazy, but there you go.
“You don’t really think you’re a vampire, do you?” I asked. “I mean, all this was just a ruse, right? To get me to go out with you?”
He looked up, surprised. “Is that what you think?”
“I don’t know. Maybe?” I paused, then added. “It makes more sense than the alternative.”
“It does,” he agreed, squeezing my hand lightly. I tried not to squirm as chills ran up and down my arms. “There’s just…something about you, Hannah. I saw it the moment you walked into that bookstore. It was the oddest feeling. Like I had to meet you.” He shrugged. “It was a very unfamiliar feeling and it irritated me greatly at first.”
“Was that why you were such an asshole?”
His mouth curled. “You thought I was an asshole?”
“Dude. You accused me of not knowing anything about vampires…or men for that matter!”
“Right.” Logan groaned. Then he shook his head. “I’m sorry, Hannah,” he said, meeting my eyes with his own. “And I’m sorry I said I didn’t like your book. Truth is, well, I actually did like it.”
My eyes widened. This, I was not expecting. “What?”
Even under the club’s dim lighting I could see his face darken to a rosy blush. “Don’t get me wrong. I wanted to hate it,” he confessed. “I really did. But it was…compelling. I don’t know how else to explain. I literally couldn’t put it down.”
A thrill of triumph spun down my spine, even though I knew it was totally petty. “You should put that in your GoodReads review,” I teased.
He laughed. “Alongside my reviews of Proust and Dostoyevsky?”
“You are such a snob.”
“And you are a good writer. Don’t let any vampire tell you differently.”
“Can I put that on the cover of my next book?”
“I insist on it.”
I grinned. “I guess you’re not such an asshole after all.”
“And yet you’re still beautiful.” Logan stood up, not letting go of my hand. “Dance with me, Hannah.”
Before I could respond, he pulled at my hand, dragging me out onto the dance floor. I stumbled after him, my mind still stuck on his last comment. Did he just call me beautiful?
“Wait!” I cried. “You never said anything about dancing,”
He stopped in his tracks. Turned to face me. His eyes were flashing with mischief. “You ran out on our last dance,” he reminded me. “You owe me.”
I swallowed hard, my heart racing in my chest. I opened my mouth—to say something, anything to protest. Instead I found myself letting him take me into his arms. His strong hands gripping my waist. His eye remaining locked on me, their hold seemingly as powerful as his grip. I tried to squirm away, to put some distance between us, but somehow my body refused to obey and instead I found myself pressed up against him. My soft curves melting into his hard planes.
I placed my head on his shoulder, breathing in his warm, rich scent. He smelled like mixture of j
uniper and fir with a hint of something at first I couldn’t identify, but was oddly reminiscent of an ancient library. That comforting smell of books with yellowed pages. I had always loved the smell of old books. A soothing scent that reminded me of home.
What are you doing? my frenzied brain demanded. But I pushed it away. I knew it was wrong. Stupid, even. But it had been so long since I’d allowed myself to be touched. For a moment I just wanted to be like everyone else. A normal girl who didn’t shrink away from a hot guy. In that moment I didn’t want to think about vampires and what was real. I just wanted to lose myself in the moment. In the music’s driving beat. In Logan’s rich, delicious smell.
And so we danced. As if we were the only people in the room. As if this were completely normal. Completely natural. And when the song ended, we didn’t break apart. Instead, Logan reached up, brushing a lock of hair out of my eyes and it was all I could do not to collapse as the chills spun down my spine. I tried to catalog the sensations pouring through me. Stow them away to use in a book later.
For, indeed, this moment felt like a book. Though Logan was nothing like Jonathan. Sure, he resembled him physically, but at the same time he exuded a far different power, a raw masculinity that Jonathan could never hope to achieve. Jonathan was a gentleman. Logan was more of a predator. Taking what he wanted without bothering to ask permission first.
Speaking of… His eyes bore down on me, flashing with inner fire. I could have sworn they had been blue, but now they looked more like purple in the dim club lights. Cupping my face in his hands, he tilted my head up so I was forced to meet his eyes with my own. I gasped at the look of raw power I saw on his face. The lust in his gaze. He smiled greedily, then leaned in for the kill.
Or in this case, kiss.
I nearly fainted as his mouth brushed against mine. His tongue darting out, licking the seam of my lips. Chills ransacked my body, rendering me helpless in his arms.
I had written a billion kisses in my novels. I knew all the creative ways to describe tongues and mouths and lips. But this—this was something I couldn’t put into words if I tried. It was like it took over, stealing away my ability to think. And as Logan groaned against my mouth, I realized suddenly that this wasn’t a one-way street either. I was having as much an effect on him as he was on me. The thought filled me with a raw, surging sense of power. A power I hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe ever.
“Hannah,” he moaned against my mouth. “Oh Hannah…”
It was then that I felt it. A tiny prick against my tongue. A sudden heat.
What the hell?
I jerked away, lifting my hand to my mouth as pain radiated through me, sharp and pulsing. When I pulled my hand away, I found blood pooling in my palm.
“What…?” I whispered. I looked up at Logan, confused as hell. “Did you just…bite me?” Horror coursed through me as I waited for an answer. An answer I was pretty sure I didn’t want to hear.
He gave me a distraught look. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You just felt so good. I didn’t mean…”
“Oh my God. You sick fuck!” I cried, stumbling backward, putting distance between us. My mouth was stinging now, as if I’d just swallowed a gob of wasabi.
“I didn’t bite you,” Logan said, taking a cautious step toward me. “You just nicked your tongue on my fang.”
“You don’t have fangs,” I spit out. After all, I’d seen him smile half a dozen times tonight. I would have noticed if he had vampire teeth.
He gave me an apologetic look. Then he opened his mouth, baring his teeth. My eyes widened in horror as I saw two glittering fangs.
“But…but…” I stammered. “Those weren’t there! When did you put them in?” My mind raced for a moment when he could have turned away from me. Slipped them in his mouth when I wasn’t looking. But I came up blank.
Logan sighed. “They’re not always visible,” he explained. “They only come out when…” He looked sheepish. “When I…get excited.”
My face burned at his insinuation. He might have just told me I’d given him an erection. A tooth erection. My stomach wrenched and my knees practically gave out from under me. My eyes darted around the club, at all the other patrons, dressed in black, pretending to be in some kind of vampire den. This was so sick. This was truly sick. I needed to get out of here. Now.
“Hannah…”
“I have to pee!” I blurted out. The only thing I could think of at the moment—the only place he couldn’t follow. Not waiting for his reply I turned and bolted across the dance floor, as fast as my legs could carry me toward the sign that read bathroom. But when I reached it, I didn’t go inside.
I didn’t have to go. I had to get out.
The front door was in the other direction, but my eyes spotted an exit near the back of the club. For smokers, I guessed. Or for those who needed a breath of fresh air. I dove for the door, as if my life depended on it, pissing off a few patrons as I pushed past them in the process.
What had I been thinking? Agreeing to any of this? Going off to a strange place with a guy who thought he was a vampire? Agreeing to dance with him. Allowing him to kiss me. This was exactly the reason I avoided these types of establishments in the first place. So I couldn’t get myself in these situations.
If you just let me escape this, I begged silently to any higher power who might be listening. I’ll never go out again.
I pushed through the door, out into a back alley. It slammed shut behind me and I realized it was one of those doors you could leave out of, but you couldn’t get back through. Which was more than fine by me. I had no interest in returning. In running into Logan and his weird dental work again.
I leaned against the brick wall, sucking in a much needed breath. My mouth had stopped stinging, thank God, but my heart was going a mile a minute. What had happened in there? Had Logan really sprouted fangs? That was impossible, of course. But I saw no other explanation.
I will not only show you. I will convince you vampires are real.
His words echoed through my head sending a shiver down my spine. I had to admit, I was almost convinced. And yet, at the same, more confused than ever.
There was only one thing left to do. I reached into my bag and pulled out my blade.
6
The small blade flashed under the street lights, sending relief flooding through my brain. Just seeing it there, feeling it between my fingers, was already working to calm me down. Half the time it was just knowing that the release was coming. That soon it would all be okay.
Leaning against the brick wall, I exhaled, then took a deep breath, trying to steady my heartbeat and still my shaky hands. Then, in one fluid motion, I brought the razor to my arm, slicing across my skin. Just a small cut—nothing major. Nothing that would require a huge bandage. Just a thin crimson ribbon slipping across my forearm, offering the panic a means of escape. I let out a second breath and closed my eyes. Feeling so much better already.
That was until the door burst open with a loud bang, shattering my reverie. I leaped from the wall, panic rising through me all over again, at first thinking it must be Logan coming to find me.
But it wasn’t Logan. It was someone else entirely. A young man, tall and lithe and dressed all in black. He had long brown hair falling over strange silver colored eyes. Not bad looking, mind you. Though nothing compared to Logan. (But, then, only few could even hope for that.)
I watched, a little nervous, as the man stood there for a moment. His brow furrowed and his posture tense. He cocked his head, seeming to sniff the air.
Then his head snapped in my direction.
Fear gripped my heart as he started stalking toward me. His lips curled in a feral snarl. I looked behind me, hoping there was someone else there—some other target. But we were alone. He was coming for me.
My gaze darted around, desperate to locate an escape. But we were at the end of an alley and he was standing between me and the only exit. I started to back away anyway, trying to think, trying to
rationalize what was happening. But all my frantic brain could come up with was the last time I’d been cornered by a guy.
A guy I knew. A guy I had agreed to be with.
This man—this man was…
He grabbed me. Literally lifted me off my feet, slamming me against the brick wall. I screamed and struggled to get away—but he was too strong. And when I landed a kick between his legs, he didn’t even seem to notice. Instead, he grabbed my arm with a force that almost snapped it in two. I bellowed in pain, tears streaming down my cheeks.
“Let me go!” I begged. “You can have my purse—I’ve got money!”
But he didn’t answer. Instead, to my absolute horror, he brought my arm to his mouth and started licking it. Sliding his thick, slimy tongue along the bloody cut I’d just made.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. “Please. Please don’t.”
I tried to squirm away again, but he slammed his fist into my stomach, making me double over in pain. His mouth was now securely locked onto my arm and I could almost feel the blood being sucked from my veins.
Because he’s a vampire, my frantic brain lectured. A real life vampire.
And he was about to drain me dry.
7
“Please!” I begged as the vampire continued to suck at my arm. “Please let me go! You can have whatever you want! This necklace is worth at least ten-thousand dollars…”
But I might as well have been arguing with a wall. He didn’t want a necklace. He wanted my blood. And it seemed there was nothing I could bargain with that would take that want away.
How ironic, I thought as my head began to spin. I was already starting to weaken thanks to the blood loss and I wondered how long I would be able to stay standing. I made my fortune off writing vampires. Now I would die with a purse full of money—and not a drop of blood left.
My knees buckled, giving out from under me. I dropped to the ground, tears streaming down my cheeks. The light around me seemed to be fading and I was starting to feel so tired. I just wanted to fall asleep and—
