“What is your problem?” he demanded, digging his fingers into her skin.
“That’s it,” she gasped, expression triumphant, and gripped his forearms. “I like it rough. Go ahead.”
Too late, Jesse realized her pulse throbbed beneath his fingers, and he unwillingly dragged his gaze down to it. He spread his fingers just enough to see the straining blueness beneath delicate skin. And like the predator he was, his entire focus narrowed to that vein. That plump, tender thing he knew was full of dark, sweet wetness. It would pop. The sharp tip of his incisor would snap through the pliant tube, and it would pop, spilling hot blood like syrup into his mouth. Salty skin. Sticky. Hungry.
She was talking, the noise a vibration in her esophagus, making the vein jump. His mouth filled with saliva.
“—so weird. I don’t know how you stand her,” she was saying, nearly panting. She pressed her breasts against him, and he looked. There were veins there too. He pulled her against him with his free hand.
“Blondes are better than redheads anyway,” she said, running her hands up to his shoulders.
He paused, mouth hovering over her throat. Redheads. Blue eyes. They meant something to him. Grabbing this one by the chin, he turned her face so he could look at her. Brown eyes. Not blue. Confusion edged into his consciousness.
Take what you need.
The thought sighed through his brain like a breeze through an abandoned house.
Still he frowned. Something was . . . wrong with this.
And then the brown-eyed one stood on her tiptoes and kissed him hard—a crushing of lips and teeth, and he forgot what it was.
11
Red Lipstick & Cotton Candy
“Which color do you want?”
I blinked and looked at the man standing behind the counter. There was an impatient look on his face indicating it wasn’t the first time he’d asked me. I glanced at the pastel puffs of cotton candy behind the scuffed plastic shield and pointed to the one I wanted.
“Pink,” I said, clutching the strap of the small purse I carried against my chest.
He grabbed the clear plastic bag and dropped it onto the counter. “Four-fifty.”
Reaching into my purse, I pulled out the exact change and handed it to him.
“Hey,” he said, recognition dawning on his face. “Aren’t you that girl who works at Monks? The one with the weird name—Pear?”
I took the bag and gave him a smile I didn’t feel. “Yeah, that’s me. And it’s Par.”
“Huh,” he said, dropping the money in the cash drawer and looking over my head to the line behind me. “Next.”
I grabbed my bag and stepped aside to open it. Staring at the delicate pink cloud of sugar, I tried to work up the excitement I’d felt this morning. Somehow it held none of its original appeal. Jesse was late, and the strain of blocking so many people’s thoughts was making my head throb. But I refused to waste such a baldly overpriced treat. Pulling off a tuft of the spun sugar, I put it into my mouth and started walking again. It melted over my tongue into bubblegum-flavored-syrup, tasting cheap and artificial. Disappointment swelled. The magic of it was gone.
I sighed and made my way through the noisy crowd, taking small pinches of cotton candy and stopping at this booth or that, running my fingers over the handmade crafts on display. As I gazed at the various wares, I tried not to let the weight of so many thoughts crush me. I’d taken three aspirin before I left, and I could already feel the telltale dizziness signaling a migraine. There was a reason I didn’t come to public events.
Still I looked for him, my eyes darting up every few seconds, searching. Each time my heart sank a little further.
“Par!”
Distracted from my wallowing, I looked up from the leather-goods booth to see Lou coming toward me, two children in tow. She looked pleasantly exhausted, her round cheeks flushed. “I wondered where I’d find you.”
“Hi,” I said, managing a smile for the little girls.
The older one looked up at Lou, tugging on her hand and pointing to the ring toss next door. “Can we please, Grandma?”
“Right there only,” she said, pulling two tickets from her pocket and handing one to each of them. “Hold hands.”
They beamed and hurried off.
“No goldfish!” Lou shouted after them.
I laughed quietly, turning my attention back to my candy.
She looked at me, shaking her head. “They’re running me ragged. Got more energy than two cats with their tails in knots.”
“Pretty girls,” I said, picking up a brown leather coin pouch with a tooled rose on the front. The painted red petals were shiny beneath the harsh fluorescent light.
“When they’re not being ornery,” she said, keeping a watchful eye on them. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be here with your fella?”
I swallowed and dropped the pouch, glancing out at the crowd again. “I think he must be running late.”
She raised her eyebrows but didn’t comment. “Do you want to walk around with me and the girls?”
A blush crept into my cheeks. “No thanks. I’ll probably head home soon anyway.”
Sensing my discomfort, she switched topics. “Have you tried the deep-fried cheese on a stick yet?” She grinned, eyes crinkling behind her glasses. “It’s sinful.”
I laughed. “No. Not yet.”
“Be sure that you do.” She gazed over at the girls, who were attempting to toss plastic rings over the necks of glass milk bottles with no luck. “And the lemonade. More sugar than lemons, but it’s worth it.”
I glanced down at my cotton candy and thought about the amount of sugar I’d already consumed. “I think I’ve had enough sweets for one night.”
“At your age?” Lou dismissed my concern with a wave of her hand. “You can handle it.”
“Maybe.” I smiled.
The girls bounded back, faces pink with excitement. I noted with amusement that they didn’t carry bags of goldfish, much to Lou’s relief. “Can we go ride the Ferris wheel again, Grandma?”
“Please?” the youngest added, looking up with wide, pleading eyes and blonde pigtails.
Lou gave me an exasperated look, but I knew she was enjoying herself.
“Go,” I said, smiling at her. “Get out of here.”
“All right. I’ll see you on Monday then.”
I nodded. “See you.”
She turned to leave and hesitated, glancing over her shoulder. The girls groaned at her knees. “Now don’t wait too long on that boy,” she told me. “It’s his job to do the waiting, you know.”
I blushed. “Okay.”
“Okay.” She gave me a meaningful look and then left.
I watched them weave through the crowd until the sea of people absorbed them. Sighing, I started off again. She was right. I needed to leave. The noise and lights I’d looked so forward to were now becoming a stressful cacophony. I wanted to be able to give Jesse the benefit of the doubt, and I couldn’t do that here. Not when every laughing couple reminded me that I was here alone.
Clutching my cotton candy, I started to head home when I noticed a concession across the street with “Fried Cheese” scribbled on its menu. My stomach growled as I remembered Lou’s suggestion. I couldn’t afford it, but the thought of going home to my meager pantry was so dismal I found myself making my way across the street to bring up the tail of the line. Two high school girls were ahead of me, talking and texting on cell phones in glittered cases. I eyed their expensive clothes and looked down at my own thrift-store dress, which paled in comparison. Pulling my cardigan tighter around my waist, I wished the line would hurry up.
“I can’t believe she’s going out with Brad,” one of the girls was saying. “He’s such a loser.”
“I know, right?” said the other, not looking up from her phone. “He’s gross.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
The one on my right grabbed her friend’s arm and pointed. “Oh my god, Jen, look.�
��
Jen, presumably, glanced up from her phone. They shared a look and then erupted in giggles. “God, why don’t they get a room?”
I looked too. And when I did, time stopped. My heart seized, my mouth parting. I stood frozen. Unable to move. To speak. To breathe. I didn’t blink. I just stood there, staring, nausea rising in my throat. I’d know him anywhere. That hair. Those hands.
Half in the shadows and half illuminated by the glaring, blinking lights of the concession, he kissed her. Really kissed. I didn’t know who she was. I couldn’t see her face. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t me. His hand had hitched up her short skirt and was gripping her thigh against his hip. It was hungry. Urgent. Her nails dug into his biceps. I couldn’t look away from those nails. Glossy red against the faded black of his leather jacket. I’d worn that jacket once. It’d smelled good. I’d felt safe.
Everyone else seemed to fade away then. There was nothing but the three of us. My unsteady hand released the bag of cotton candy, and it landed on the blacktop with a soft bounce.
“Jesse,” I whispered, unable to believe what I was seeing.
And somehow, over the laughing and talking and mechanical music of the festival, he heard me. He stiffened, head lifting. I blinked in shock. He turned and looked, his gaze finding mine immediately. I took a step back, the connection too much. Tears welled in my eyes. A look of utter confusion passed over the shadowed planes of his face, and he frowned at me. I looked past him and saw her. The tears spilled over then, the betrayal so sharp and deep that I had to bring my trembling fingers to my lips to keep the sob in. How could he?
Kristen’s eyes met mine with a victorious gleam, and I wanted more than anything to be as far away from her as I could. Away from him. Away from the festival. Just away. So I turned and ran, stumbling and blind with tears, my cotton candy still lying on the pavement beneath the flashing carnival lights.
***
Jesse watched the girl disappear into the crowd and something shifted in his brain. He moved as if to follow her.
“Wait,” the blonde said, her grip tightening. He could smell her desperation.
He shoved her away with a growl. She stumbled in her heels and fell to her knees, the contents of her purse clattering over the street. Stunned, she stared up at him agape, chin stained red from lipstick and a trickle of blood running down her neck.
Jesse blinked, wiping his bottom lip clean with his thumb. As his heart slowed and the adrenaline faded, he began to remember, as he always did. It was easy to get lost in blood and sweat, but hard to return to reality. Especially this time. He raked his hands through his hair and cursed. What the hell had he done?
He was barely aware of the hushed whispers and stares of the crowd. Or Kristen, who frantically gathered her scattered purse contents on hands and knees. All he could see was her. Parsley. Tears shimmering in blue eyes. Bottom lip trembling. The way her pale face had gone even paler when she’d realized what he’d been doing. And who he’d been doing it with. Her dress. Her overwhelming heartbreak and abandonment of hope.
Bile rose in his throat, and he strode past Kristen, needing the dark of the alley. She shrank back this time, clutching her purse to her chest, but he ignored her. With any luck, she’d chalk the bite marks up to kink—something he had the feeling she was no stranger to. He couldn’t think about damage control right now. Once inside the alley, he leaned against the cool brick and brought his fist to his mouth as a choked sound escaped. Shame consumed him. It was immediate. Nauseating. He’d hurt her. Her. And it was so repulsive to him that he’d never hated himself more than he did in this moment.
He’d gotten too close. Felt Kristen’s vein throbbing beneath his fingers. Smelled it below the surface of her skin. And just like that, the compulsion he’d thought was under control had burst free. This is what Patrick would want. This is what he’d taught him to do. Drink when thirsty and forget everything else. Because blood, to his sire, was all there was.
Growling in frustration, he tore his trembling hand from his face and pushed off the wall. What he’d done didn’t change anything. He’d known he was an animal and now Parsley did too. It was better this way. They were no longer delaying the inevitable.
With a drag of the back of his hand, he wiped the lipstick off his mouth and chin, resisting the urge to vomit. He wanted to erase the blonde from his memory. He wanted to erase her from Par’s. But he couldn’t, and the thought was like a cold, dead weight in his gut. She would always remember, and something inside him died at the bitter knowledge.
“Having a bad night, big guy?”
Jesse looked up. A young girl, maybe sixteen, stood just inside the alley, eying him while snapping her gum. He vaguely remembered her from a few minutes ago. She and her friend had been standing in front of Par at the fried-cheese concession. She’d witnessed the whole fucked up scene. “Get out of here, kid.”
Her mouth curved, and she strode forward, the click of her boots echoing off the brick walls.
“I saw what happened out there.” She stopped a few feet away from him. “With your girlfriend? That was harsh.”
His head began to throb in earnest. He had enough to worry about without some thrill-seeking teenager offering her opinion. And the way she just stood there watching him like she had a VIP ticket to his freak show pissed him off. “I said get out of here.”
She made an admonishing sound with her tongue. “Naughty language from a naughty boy. You kiss your mama with that mouth?”
His upper lip curled. “Leave.”
“You really did a number on that girl. I mean, did you see those tears? Poor bitch’ll be crying herself to sleep tonight.”
He contemplated walking past her but didn’t want a replay of what’d happened with Kristen. With his head all the fuck over the place like it was, there was no telling what he’d do. He felt like a kite in a windstorm with nobody at the string.
She twirled a piece of hair around her finger and continued on as if she hadn’t heard him. “Pretty shitty thing to do to someone you love. You do love her, right? Or you wouldn’t be hiding back here like a pussy because you got caught with your tongue in someone else’s mouth.”
Jesse’s hands fisted at his sides. What the hell was this girl’s problem? “It’s none of your damn business. You need to leave. Now.”
“You’re right. I do.” She glanced down at her breasts and gave them a squeeze. “I need to go home and tell my daddy all about what I saw here tonight.”
“Then go.”
“You like these?” she asked, pushing her cleavage up so the soft mounds were highlighted in the moon glow. She jiggled them a little. “I bet you do. You seemed to like that other girl’s.”
To hell with it. He’d walk the long way. Turning, he started down the opposite end of the alley, away from her.
Her laugh trailed after him. “Poor Jesse. You’ve always had such a stick up your ass.”
He stopped. When he turned around, it was slow and controlled. He said nothing but tested the air, drawing her scent toward him. When he’d sifted through the stink of festival smells and got to her, he snarled, upper lip quivering with rage. “Bane.”
The laugh that came out of her was masculine, and as she walked forward, her visage shimmered into someone else. Mascara and lip-gloss gave way to piercings and bared fangs. Icy-blue eyes gleamed in the darkness as Bane, in his true form, stared at Jesse. “I knew it,” Bane said. “I fucking knew it.”
Jesse’s expression didn’t change. “What is it you think you know?”
“That you’ve gone off the rails for this girl. That you’re disobeying Sire.” He laughed, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lighting one. “I know you’re finally going to get what’s been coming to you.”
“Do you.”
He nodded, smoke curling out of his mouth. “I do.”
They stared at each other until a laughing couple turned down the alley, hand in hand, the girl carrying a giant stuffed monkey and t
he guy whispering in her ear. They barely noticed the two vampires as they passed by. When they were out of earshot, Jesse looked at Bane. “Job’s just taking longer than usual, that’s all. Patrick will understand.”
“Not fucking likely. You’re stalling. And you know what?” The tip of his cigarette sizzled as he drew on it. “I think you’re planning something.”
“Really.”
“Yeah. I think you want to keep this redheaded blood bag for yourself.”
“I think you don’t have a clue what the hell you’re talking about.”
He smiled. “Oh, I think I do. And after tonight, Sire will too.”
Jesse shoved his hands in his pockets as if he wasn’t ready to rip out Bane’s throat. “I got a phone call tonight. From Joshua.”
Bane said nothing, but Jesse didn’t miss the subtle tightening of his jaw. It was enough to tell him what he needed to know. “You know what I think?”
Bane arched an inquiring brow.
“I think Patrick has no idea you’re here. I think if he knew you were interfering with his favorite son’s work, he’d be less than pleased.”
Bane dropped the nonchalant pretense, gaze hardening as the dig hit home. “I guess we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?”
Jesse started forward. He didn’t think Bane actually had the balls to admit any of this to Patrick and incriminate himself, but he couldn’t afford to take the chance. His treachery would be found out soon enough even without Bane whispering in Patrick’s ear.
Bane tossed his cigarette on the ground between them and took a step back, edging closer to the festival. “I don’t think so. As much as I’d love to bathe this street in your blood, I won’t dishonor Sire by doing this in public.”
Jesse stopped and glanced at the people passing by the alley’s entrance not thirty yards away. His jaw clenched. He didn’t give a shit about dishonoring Patrick, but the delay in getting to Parsley gave him pause. She could be packing her bags even now.
First Fruits Page 9
