Kate laughs.
“Someone is horny,” she teases in a sing-song voice, continuing to scrub her breasts. “I can smell your arousal over here. Careful, or you might end up bonding with her,” Kate warns. Fuck her. I would never bond with a human. Bonding is where a male chooses to mate with a female for the rest of his life. I’m not getting stuck with someone forever.
She flings the washcloth in the water. I throw the T-shirt at her and order her to dress the female once she’s clean.
“You want me to remove her panties so you can smell her?” Kate is a bitch. I should have fired her three centuries ago. I ignore her comment and watch her pull the clean shirt over the human’s head. She has a healed surgical cut on the left side of her stomach. How did she hurt herself? She is not sick; her blood smells clean. The faster she wakes up, the better. Kate washes the blood out of her black matted hair, the blood pumping in her veins causes her skin to glow.
After Kate finishes, I tell her to leave.
Looking in the human’s wallet, I see that her name is Sarah Clemons. I study her address and work ID. She’s a scientist; that’s bad. Humans like to dissect shit. I shove her house key in my pocket and continue to search her purse for an emergency contact. The only thing I could find is a brown, rusty key on a necklace, tucked in a pocket of her purse. Running my fingers over the key, it burns like fire. Fuck. It is protected by magic. Then it hits me—this is the key to open the Zenith book. No fucking way! We’ve been looking for the key for two centuries, and a human had it. Relief and concern wash over me. I’m sure that’s why the vampire attacked her and was searching through her stuff; he knew she had it, which means he will continue to search for her until he has what he wants. Another fucking problem. I go to my bedroom, type in a pin for my safe and grab my Glock. If the human is going to be staying with me, then she needs her stuff.
As I make my way inside Sarah’s condo, I see clothes hanging over the white chair in the living area. Piles of dishes are stacked on the counter. It looks like a tornado came through here and tore up the place. The human is a slob. I march to the bedroom and search through the dresser, picking out different types of clothing for her. I neatly fold her clothes and place them in a bag. After I finish in the bedroom, I go to her bathroom. Feminine products are scattered all over the sink. I collect her hair products, body soap, and a blue box that says Tampax Pearl, and toss it in the bag along with the rest of her stuff. I’ll have two of my servants come and clean the condo, so when she returns, it will be livable.
Back at the mansion, I carry Sarah’s bag to the guestroom. Nicholas, accompanied by my brother David, stops me in the middle of the hallway. Nicholas shoves me into a wall. I shove him back.
“What the hell is wrong with you? You want to put us all in danger?” he asks, clenching his fist. If he touches me again, I’m going to knock his fucking teeth out. Kate must have told him about cleaning Sarah up. I pause, trying to collect my thoughts before I do or say something stupid. David maneuvers between us.
“She can help us kill the vamps,” I say through gritted teeth.
“How?” Nicholas inquires, the tone in his voice communicating that he doesn’t believe me.
“She has the key to unlock the Zenith book,” I snap. Our kind have suffered since the ghoul and vampire war. We lost our kingdom because of the war, and Vampires were enslaving us and killing our kind.
“Give me your hand,” David orders as he removes his white gloves. I do what he says. David is a soul reader; he can read every thought a ghoul has, in their entire life. His eyes glow red as he releases my hand. He turns to Nicholas.
“Eric is telling the truth,” David says coolly.
Nicholas beams at David and me, before speaking again.
“Get all the information you can out of her. Eric, try not to stick your dick in her; we need her to stick around to help us,” Nick commands.
No promises. No promises.
My eyes crack open, and my vision is a little fuzzy. My head pounds hard like I’ve got the worst hangover in history. I focus on the flat screen television mounted on the beige wall. The OWN channel is on, with an ad for a weight loss product. Where the hell am I? I have no memory coming here. The last thing I remember is Pete asking me about a key, then that terrible stabbing pain in my neck. I still remember the burn I felt. Or did I dream that? Maybe he slipped something into my drink to bring me here for his sick game.
I gaze around the clean room and see a duffle bag in a wooden chair. The sun slips from the curtain, lighting up the room. I jump up from the fluffy bed, realizing an IV is in my right hand. Two empty bags are hanging from a pole. The fuck? Who would do this? Oh My God! I’ve been picked up for sex trafficking. Pete brought me here to use me as a prostitute. My chest pings with fear. Panicking, I peel the needle from my hand. I need a weapon to protect myself from him. I refuse to go down without a fight. Racing into the bathroom, I find feminine products neatly stacked on the granite counter. I eye the toothbrush holder and notice an electric purple toothbrush. Is that my toothbrush? I pick it up and study it. It is my toothbrush! A Tampon box, prominently displayed, has a note in permanent marker scrawled across the top of the box: WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS? I stroll to the closet and find my clothes hanging up neatly, and organized by color.
I sprint to the door and turn the knob. It’s locked. My chest tightens as panic clogs my throat. I can’t breathe. I bang on the door and scream at the top of my lungs. The door flings open, and a guy stands there, staring at me with a blank expression. His black hair is cut low to his scalp, and his eyes are the color of charcoal. He is tall, with broad shoulders and beautiful tan skin. Attractive is an understatement to describe him—he is gorgeous. I shouldn’t be attracted to him; he kidnapped me!
He holds a breakfast plate, but I’m far too nervous to consider eating. When I refuse, he sets the plate down on the dresser. He’s probably drugged me so he can pimp me to his clients. I am not going to be one of his sex slaves. I sprint past him and head out the door, screaming at the top of my lungs. In a blink of an eye, he stands in front of me. He flips me over his shoulder like a rag doll, and I beat my fist against his hard back.
“Let me go!” When we enter the room, he drops me on the bed and shuts the door, locking it. I gulp. I climb on the bed away from him. If he thinks about coming near me, I’m going to knee him in the balls.
“You’re not going anywhere until you answer my questions.” his voice is deep, warm like a cup a coffee. I fold my arms across my chest.
“You can’t keep me here!” I scream.
“I don’t want you here, either,” he says condescendingly. Well, if he doesn’t want me here, why is he forcing me to stay?
He looks into my eyes, and I look away. God, he is beautiful.
“Where did you get the necklace?” he asks, leaning against the wall and shoving his fingers into his pockets.
“What necklace?” A hint of annoyance is in my voice. I am sick of people asking me about something I don’t know anything about.
“The old key in your purse,” he deadpans.
First, he steals my stuff from my home, and now he’s gone through my purse. What the hell is wrong with him? He is unbelievable! I bite back the anger tugging at me before responding to his question.
“My mother.”
“Where is she?”
“Dead.” My mother died in a freak car accident a year ago. Her Toyota Highlander caught on fire, and the paramedics had to pry her out. When they got her out, they weren’t able to identify her body. I push myself back on the bed until the back of my head touches the headboard. I shake my head at the horrible memory. The guy watches me through his dark eyes.
“You saved me from Pete?” I ask meekly.
“He got away; the vamp wants your key.” Vamp? Surely, he’s not talking about vampires.
“By vamp, do you mean a vampire?” He waits for a few moments before responding.
“Yes.” Unbelievable, I’m stu
ck here with a psycho or a junkie.
“Why would he want my key?”
“It unlocks a powerful book,” he says coolly. There is no way my key does this. It’s just something my mother had given me before she passed away. It was important to me because it came from her.
“Help me find the Zenith book,” he asks-slash-demands, rubbing the nape of his neck.
“And if I don’t?” I ask. I’ll go along with his hallucination until I figure a way out of here.
“You will die. Pete is still out there, and he will not hesitate to kill you.”
Why should I trust him? He could be a dick like Pete. He doesn’t look like he will hurt me, but after the date with Pete, I don’t know what to believe.
“How do I know you won’t kill me?”
“You’re still alive, aren’t you?” I study his facial expression, unable to read his mood.
“Do we have a deal?” He extends his hand. I swallow deep breaths, calming my nerves. What choice do I have? If he’s telling the truth about Pete coming after me, then I’ll take my chance here.
“You can have the key,” I say.
“No, I can’t; it’s protected by magic,” he states, not taking his eyes off me. Yep, he fell off the crazy bus.
“Okay. I’ll help you find the z-hu whatever- you -call- it book,” That sounds even more ridiculous when I say it out loud. I feel like I am in a dream, waiting to wake up. Maybe I’m being Punk’d; Aston Kutcher should be jumping out of the closet any minute now.
I look down at the oversized white cotton shirt hugging my body.
“Where are my clothes?”
“I threw them away because they were covered in blood.” Dammit. That red dress was my favorite. This nightmare is getting worse by the second.
“I’ll be right back,” the guy says before disappearing out of the room. Moments later, he strides back in with drawing paper and a pencil in his hand.
“Describe Pete.”
I describe him as much as I can remember. He begins to sketch a drawing. When he is finished, he flips the paper over for me to see. I can’t believe it; he drew him exactly how I remembered. Talent is not the word to describe his skills—he is gifted.
“What’s your name?” I ask, picking up the picture, admiring his artwork.
“Eric.”
My days begin to clump together. I only keep up with time when a working girl comes in. She appears about eighteen years old, with purple hair brushing the tops of her shoulders. Her eyes are bright violet, and she has a nose ring in her right nostril. Eric must have sent her in here, to make me feel comfortable, so he can sell me to the highest bidder. I haven’t seen him much since our last encounter, which is good. Even though a television is mounted on the wall, I sit with it off. My thoughts are consumed with Jessie’s death. I remember the hurt in my mom’s hazel eyes when she had to tell me the news. I’m sorry, Sarah, but Jessie didn’t make it. Those words still haunt me to this day. Deep down, I always believed Mom blamed me for Jessie’s death, because I begged Jessie to give me a portion of her liver. If she didn’t, then I blame myself. I was seventeen years old when I found out I had stage two liver cancer. A couple of days before the surgery, Jessie took me shopping for a prom dress. The dress was black, short, and made of silk; it was beautiful. I didn’t have a date at the time—Fred (the guy I was dating) broke up with me when I told him I had cancer. Jessie said he did me a favor, that I could do so much better than him. It still hurt like hell, being rejected for something I had no control over. When other girls were going on dates, I was in and out of the hospital receiving chemotherapy. Her funeral was on the day of the prom. I didn’t even go to prom; I stayed home that night and cried myself to sleep. That was the worst year of my life. If I could go back in time and change everything, I would have chosen to let the cancer take me, and let Jessie live. Now, I feel guilty every day. I sleep with men to fill a void, and I like to keep people at arm’s length, except for Vanessa. She is the closest person I have to family. I can’t stay here any longer; I have to leave. I need to break out of here and get away from Eric.
I put on a pair of blue sweat pants, a black hoodie, and a pair of tennis shoes. Turning the knob on the door, I peek out into the hallway. The lights are out; everyone must be asleep. As my heart hammers in my chest, I scurry to the end of the hallway, finding myself at the top of a marble staircase. Two people dressed in business suits walk past me, but they don’t even spare me a second glance. As soon as they turn the corner, I run down the stairs. I don’t know which way to turn. Panic constricts my throat as I dart down another flight of stairs. Which door is the front? I make a left, and at the end of a foyer, I see a pair of French double doors. Quickly, I open the doors and sprint outside. Rain hits my face, and I pull my hoodie over my head. I make my way across the expanse of yard to an enormous metal gate. It is locked. I shake it with both hands, but it won’t move. This can’t be happening; I need to find another way out! I backpedal by a statue of a naked woman with water coming out her eyes, like tears. Sitting on the edge of the statue, I feel hopeless. A hot, fat tear slides down my cheek. I wipe the tear with the back of my right hand. A low growl comes from behind me. Turning around, I see a huge wolf flashing his sharp teeth, his coat is a copper color. He is twice the size of an average wolf. I stand up and trudge slowly back.
“Nice doggie,” I say, trying to hide the panic in my voice. I dart towards the front door. Looking back, the wolf howls and hurtles full speed towards me. I turn the knob, banging on the door until my palms hurt.
“Please, open up!” I turn around and the wolf pads slowly toward me, licking his lips like he is ready to eat me for dinner. Wrapping my arms around my knees, I put my head down and close my eyes. I feel someone grabbing me by my shoulder. It is the working girl, yanking me inside. She removes my drenched hoodie and throws it on the marble floor.
“Are you okay? Do you know how upset King Eric would be if you were killed?” I’m so delighted to see her, I yank her into my embrace. She pats me on the back awkwardly.
“Come, let’s get you dry.” Her voice is gentle as she ushers me into a living room, and I sit on a cream-colored couch. My wet sweatpants stick to my skin, and the socks in my shoes feel squishy. She snaps her finger and the fireplace blazes with flames, warming the room. How the hell did she turn on the fireplace without using a match or lighter fluid? Weird.
“What were you doing outside? You could’ve been killed!” she says as concern colors her face.
“I didn’t know a wolf would be outside!” I exclaim. The fireplace warms my body, making me feel toasty and sleepy. I tuck my feet under my butt. Feeling trapped inside these walls, I want to scream at the top of my lungs. I want to leave this god-awful place. The girl leaves the room and returns with a tray of soup and hot tea.
“You need to eat; you look famished.” She rests the tray on my lap. “Besides, King Eric would be pissed if he found out you weren’t eating.” Has everyone fallen off the crazy bus around here? Do all the working girls refer to their pimp as their king? This is insane. I eye the soup as my stomach grumbles; it has been days since I had a decent meal. As I dig into the soup, easing my hunger pain, I scan the interior design. An ugly, yellowish rug lies in front of the fireplace. A flat screen television hangs on the wall. The love seat and the sofa are beige, and the walls are painted red. The smell of burning logs lingers in the air. The room is tacky. As soon as I finish my soup, I set the bowl on the wooden end table. I peer over at the working girl, who is sitting next to me.
“How much is he paying you?” I ask.
“What?” She gives me a puzzled look. I want to know why Eric is keeping her here. She is far too beautiful to be a sex slave. If we work together, we can break out of here. Before I can propose a collaboration, Eric barges in. I see the anger in his eyes. Once again my body responds to him, every cell in my body aware of his presence. I scold myself inwardly for finding him attractive. The working girl bows her head.
>
“I’m sorry, sire; I should have been watching her,” she says.
“Stand up, Kate,” Eric barks; his voice is deep and velvety. She does what he says. He turns toward me, and he surveys me up and down. I roll my eyes; this would be much easier if I didn’t find him attractive. He cups my chin and gazes into my eyes. I try to tear my eyes away from his, but instead, I stare back. His touch makes me melt. Thanks a lot, hormones, for betraying my mind.
“Are you all right? I came as fast as I could,” he breathes, causing my scolded hormones to go into a fit of excitement.
“Don’t touch me!” I regret the words immediately after they leave my mouth. Eric drops his hands to his side.
“Don’t try to leave again, or else Kate won’t be able to save you from Clayton.” He thrusts his fingers through his rough hair, clearly frustrated. He dismisses Kate, and she leaves.
“Please, Eric, let me go. I will give you anything you want.” My voice is barely audible. I will sleep with him, if that’s what he wants.
“I can’t! If you go out, the vampires will kill you,” he answers, as if he is tired of saying it.
“There is no such thing as vampires! Just stop it!” I shriek.
“Are all humans this ungrateful?” he asks, folding his arms across his chest. I pick up the hot tea and sling it in his face.
“I didn’t ask you to save me!”
Eric, mumbling curse words under his breath, takes the bottom of his shirt and wipes his face, revealing his chisel-cut stomach. You can see the indention in every ab. He has a trail of hair leading down to his jeans; that is so sexy.
After he finishes cleaning himself, he presses a blue button on the wall, and Kate’s voice comes through the intercom.
“Kate, come here,” he says. In a matter of seconds, she appears in the room, bowing towards him.
“Yes, sire?” she asks, lifting her head.
Ghoul Kisses Page 2
