“There are a few things I need to do now that I’m feeling much better. Thank you again.” I was so anxious, please God don’t let me sound it.
“But you will come back, Baby Vampire? Won’t you come back?”
Why did he care so much if I came back or not? And enough of that stupid nickname. Something was up. His tone was off—there was something in the way he was looking at me. He thought I was an abandoned vampire, and maybe that made him feel sorry for me. Pity, however, was not the only vibe I sensed from him. It was time to go.
“Why wouldn’t I come back?” I turned around, started heading for the door in a hurried walk.
He was beside me in a flash—I hate when vampires do that. It’s only cool when I do it. “I’m Brian,” he said, suspicion gleaming in his eyes. “Please ask for me when you return. Tomorrow hopefully?”
“Okay, Brian. Very nice to meet you.” I waved good-bye, rushed out the door. I ran into something in the doorway, hard, solid like a concrete wall. It knocked me back a couple steps. But I was fine. No loss of balance. Something blocked my exit. I didn’t make it out of the club.
Brian stood in the doorway, hand extended out in front of him. “I’m sorry. I don’t recall getting your name.”
I froze, stomach tightening, throat contracting. I swallowed hard but the lump didn’t move. I couldn’t tell him my real name. What if he knew Bronx or had heard of the missing blond vampire? “I’m Anna.” I shook his hand reluctantly while desperately trying to keep it together and not piss this guy off.
He grinned, showing a broad, glistening expanse of teeth and fangs. “Anna, what a beautiful name for such a beautiful lady.” His grip tightened around my hand. “What time tomorrow shall I expect you?”
I swallowed hard again. Heat flushed my cheeks, though it wasn’t from blushing. Anger rumbled inside my body—hot, fierce, and defensive. Was it going to come down to a fight? It was if this jerk didn’t move out of my way. But I could sense he was much older than me. He would defeat me, hands down, no question about it. I had to control my anger, try talking my way out of this. “I should be here near seven tomorrow. If you’ll excuse me, I really do need to get going.”
I started to walk around him, but he backed up and threw his arms out to the sides, creating some kind of makeshift barricade, completely blocking the door.
My anger intensified, rushed me like a stampede. I balled my hands into tight little fists, holding them at my sides. “Is there anything else you’d like to ask me, Brian?”
He stared at me, fangs out, hands firmly gripping the doorjamb. He wasn’t moving. He was definitely trying to keep me from leaving. A growl built up deep in my throat, then spilled out of my mouth, snarling, challenging. I searched inside his eyes, looking for his next move. His mind was blank, empty. He was blocking me.
“Anna, Anna, calm down.” His voice was like a cool wind in my head. “There’s no reason for you to be upset. I mean you no harm. Please forgive me, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I only wanted to make you feel welcome to return as often as you’d like.” He dropped his arms, stepped to the side. His words were false; I could sense his lies. But could I make it out of the club? Only one way to find out.
“You have a funny way of making me feel welcome,” I said through clenched teeth. “I hope when I return it’s not so confrontational.” I rushed past him, ramming my shoulder into his arm. I did not wait for him to respond, didn’t look back at his face. He got my point. In a flash of movement, I was gone.
I used to hate running, would do anything possible to avoid it. But this, if I could even call it running, was un-freaking-believable. It almost felt like flying except my feet were still on the ground, moving so fast I couldn’t even feel them touch it. The wind rushing my face felt like I was hanging my head out of the window of a speeding car, but way faster than that, and much more intense. The pressure was stronger than a riptide burying my feet beneath the ocean’s soft, grainy sand. My hair was plastered directly behind my head. The wind whipped my body, cold enough to sting my skin. My nose was like an ice cube. But being cold didn’t bother me anymore. The more distance I put between 7 and me, the better I felt, my anger calming, my fear a distant voice, soft and hushed.
I came up to a vast woodsy area straight ahead. The highway we’d traveled on to get to the club was on my left. I could cut through the woods and travel a more secretive way back to Tyler's. Don’t ask me how I knew that. I just did. And it seemed like a better idea than following the highway that brought us to the club. I closed my eyes and concentrated hard, listening to the sounds around me, licking my lips to taste the air, searching for any followers. But every scent I picked up was part of my current surroundings: old car exhaust and burnt rubber on the worn asphalt, pollen, grass, and musky dirt from the woodlands. Good. Time to get moving.
I hurried into the woods, continuing at my amazingly swift pace. I ducked under low-hanging tree branches, curved around others that jutted out like long boney fingers. My footing was steady. My balance was perfect. I didn’t run into anything, didn’t trip, didn’t fall. I just kept moving, purpose-driven, confident. It felt like having a built-in GPS system. Now if I could just get a speedometer set up so I could know how fast I was moving. There was a stream up ahead—I could hear the rustling water, smell the dampness of the earth around it. I didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate. I sprung forward, riding the air across the stream, landing perfectly on the other side. That was too easy. I could’ve jumped higher, farther. I gasped aloud, laughing to myself. Maybe there were some perks to being a vampire after all. This was definitely one of them.
Tyler’s house was getting closer. But I couldn’t go straight there. I wasn’t being followed now, but what if my scent was tracked later? I couldn’t lead the bad guys straight to us. There’s no such thing as being too careful. So I kept moving.
After I was miles beyond his house, I turned around and backtracked another way until I arrived at his dimly lit back door. It was unlocked so I let myself inside, locked the door behind me. I was in the small, cozy kitchen. Old wooden floors, matching wood cabinets, white-tiled countertops, older white appliances, and a small round café table in the corner with two tiny bistro-style chairs. Tyler’s scent was all over. He had just been in here, perhaps unlocking the door for me. I let out a long sigh of relief. We’d made it home this time. We could worry about the other times later.
I walked out of the kitchen and into the hallway. Left took you to the garage; right led into the living room, where Tyler’s scent was stronger. I followed it. With each step, the old wooden floors made creaking sounds. Note to self: Don’t walk like a human if you want to surprise someone. Tyler jumped up from the sofa, tossed a People magazine on the coffee table. He ran straight to me, arms open, lips stretched in a big sparkling smile. “You’re okay!” he exclaimed. “Thank God!” His arms wrapped around me like a candy wrapper. I was the piece of candy.
“I’m fine. Thank God you’re okay too.” I hugged him back, my face pressed against his right pectoral. His shirt was smooth, soft. His nipple was hard underneath. He really was excited I’d made it home safe. Either that or he was freezing cold—hmmm.
“What happened back there? I saw you follow that guy behind the bar. It took everything in me not to get up and go after you. Thank God you came back out when you did.” He let go of me, took a small step back, investigating me with his eyes, head tilting to the side. “You look different. Better.”
“I was taken to the back room for blo…I mean food. That’s how they do it at the donor clubs.” I shook my head, then shrugged. “I guess my eyes are their normal color again?”
“Yes. They’re beautiful!” He stepped forward, reached his arms around me, and pulled me into another warm, caring embrace. I hugged him back. It felt good, a perfect fit. This could mean trouble sooner rather than later.
Later is better—there was more to discuss right now. I dropped my arms to my sides. “I don’t think we c
an go back there,” I said.
He let me go, taking my hand inside his. No vision, still here with him in his living room. Good. He led me over to the sofa. I followed like a good little vampire. “Why?” he asked, astonishment plain in his voice. “It worked. We got in and out.” He gave a long sigh as he sat down.
His grip tightened around my hand, pulling me down beside him. Close. No safe distance, bodies almost touching. Was I the only one noticing how close we were? Our fingers interlaced, just like couples do when they hold hands. It felt natural, good, right. I couldn’t remember what he’d asked me. I found his eyes, those beautiful gleaming green jewels, and stared for a moment. Then he said, “Abby. Why can’t we go back to that club?”
I shook my head. “That guy I followed to the back room, Brian, well he’s not a guy, he’s a vampire, but anyway he’ll be looking for me if I go back.”
Tyler frowned. “What do you mean by that?”
I ran my fingers through my hair with my free hand. Then I told him everything that had happened at 7. Tyler listened intently. He didn’t like the last part, where Brian tried to prevent me from leaving.
“Why wouldn’t that vampire let you leave? Damn it! I knew I shouldn’t have left you!” he said, voice deep, almost yelling.
“No, no. It was better that you left. I handled the situation just fine.” I looked away, stared down at the floor. “But there’s something else. Something he knows, or something he wants. I’m not really sure. But I don’t trust him. We can’t go back.”
He leaned over, kissed my cheek. His lips were soft, moist. Tingles shot through my whole body. My insides were hot, mushy, needy. “Well,” he said, voice barely a whisper, “if you were that uncomfortable, then we’re definitely not going back. I’ll trust your intuition on this one, babe.” He pulled his hand free of mine. I didn’t fight him, but I wanted to. I wanted to be close, feel his skin on mine. His arms wrapped around me like big warm blankets, pulling me closer, holding me tighter. They say be careful what you wish for.
I smiled, sunk into his chest like a baby. “Thanks. I appreciate that.” My stomach tightened; heat waves tumbled down my neck, along my spine. It wasn’t just because I was attracted to Tyler. Nope, couldn’t be that simple, could it? “I guess that puts us in our next dilemma,” I said.
“What’s that?”
In a blur of movement, I pulled out of Tyler’s arms, scooted a couple feet away, putting a little safe distance between us. “I hate this! I hate this, Ty!” My body started trembling. I balled my hands into tight little fists and rocked back and forth trying to calm down. “Now where am I going to go for food?”
He nodded, voice soft, saying, “Don’t worry. We’ll figure that out. Trust me.” He inched closer, placing his hands on top of my fists, gently rubbing them with his fingers.
I swallowed hard. “I hope you’re right. Our safety depends on that.”
He didn’t argue. He knew I was right.
12
New Identity
THE SUN PIERCED THE SKY with its killer rays, trapping me inside the house. Tyler left almost an hour ago. I was drowning in anxiety waiting on him to get back here. Pacing the living room wasn’t helping. I was about to walk a hole in the wooden floors, which creaked under the weight of my boots like crunching potato chips. The burgundy curtains with gaudy white flowers swayed this way and that as I passed them.
There was a new addition to the room: a thirty-two inch flat screen TV sitting on top of a modern looking glass stand. It was directly across the room from the fireplace. Now you could sit on either sofa and see the fireplace in one direction and the TV in the other. Tyler was proud of this addition, but more so by the fact that he’d moved it into the living room from his bedroom all by himself, while waiting for me to get home from the club. I stopped pacing to stare at the empty gray screen. Maybe if I turned it on, it would provide a much needed distraction. There was only one way to find out. I searched around for the remote control. It was sitting on the coffee table. I picked up the rectangular-shaped device, fingers hovering above the small, illuminated keypad. A car pulled into the driveway. Tyler was back!
I hurried to the hallway, rushed past the kitchen smelling of burnt toast and stale coffee. The laundry room was straight ahead, the garage beyond that. The door was closed. I came up to it, hand on the doorknob, hesitating. A thin stream of light appeared along the bottom crease of the door. I jerked my hand away, stepped back. A car door slammed shut. The garage door swished and creaked. Then the light was gone. I stayed where I was. Better safe than sorry. Footsteps slapped the concrete, moving closer toward me. Paper bags swished and rustled. I took a few more steps backwards and the odors from the kitchen returned, leaving a bad taste on my tongue.
Tyler walked into the hallway, smiling, eyes sparkling like green stars. He wore relaxed fitted blue jeans, a heather gray hoodie over a white cotton tee shirt. His brown hair was perfectly messy. A pair of white Adidas sneakers finished his look. He carried two large brown paper bags, one in each arm. “Hey babe. Miss me?” He walked past me into the kitchen.
I stayed in the doorway, didn’t want to get too close to that smell. “Yes, of course I missed you,” I said. “And I was worried sick. Did you find something for me to wear?”
“Come over here and see.” He set the bags on the countertop.
I didn’t move.
He looked back at me. “What’s the matter?”
“That smell. It’s horrible. Give me a minute to adjust.”
“How about I just clean this mess up?” he asked.
I nodded; sounded like a great idea to me too.
He cleaned the kitchen as fast as humanly possible. I waited patiently in the hall, watching him. He bagged up the trash and went to throw it in the bin in the garage. He jogged back in sucking at the air a little more urgently. “Is that better?” He released a deep breath.
I nodded, then followed him.
He grabbed the bags, carried them over to the café table. Then he pulled out a chair for me and we both sat down.
“All right. What did ya get me?” I asked.
He reached into the bag closest to him and pulled out a pair of faded, worn blue jeans and a short-sleeved, black button-up shirt. Then he returned to the bag, digging a little deeper. His hand came back out holding a pair of black pants and a royal blue V-neck shirt with thin spaghetti-strapped sleeves. He tossed everything into my lap.
I grabbed the skimpy royal blue top. “This is a little too sexy, don’t ya think?” I threw it back at him.
He caught it. “I thought you’d look hot in that. It’s perfect for the clubs. If you don’t want to wear it out, that’s fine with me.” He chucked it back to me and then dug into the bag again. “Here, I knew you’d give me trouble over that shirt.” He handed me a light blue V-neck cotton tee.
I leaned over and grabbed it. “That’s better,” I said.
He leaned back, half laughing. “Just be grateful you have a boyfriend that doesn’t force you to hide those beautiful curves of yours.”
Boyfriend. An argument built up on my tongue, but I just couldn’t get the words to form. Did that mean he was my boyfriend? No way. It was too soon. I shrugged. “What’s in the other bag?”
His right eyebrow arched higher than the left. “Everything we need to change the way you look.”
I let out a deep sigh. “Oh goody. Did you find some good wigs?”
He shook his head. “No, I didn’t think that would work. You move so fast, what if it fell off?” He reached over, grabbed the other bag. He pulled out a pair of shiny silver scissors and one of those hair colors in a box that you buy over-the-counter at most stores. There was a picture of a brunette woman on the cover. “You’re going to look amazing as a brunette.”
I swallowed hard. “What are the scissors for?”
“Bangs.”
“No freaking way!” I said, head shaking rapidly side-to-side.
“Yes freaking way.” He was smiling
. Why the heck was he smiling?
“You’re enjoying this too much,” I said.
He stood up, held out his hand for me. “Yes I am.”
I took his hand. “Fine.”
I pouted all the way to the bathroom. He ignored me. Sitting on the counter next to the sink was a small lamp glowing yellow light. Almost everything else was white: the tile floors, cabinets, slick marble countertop, textured walls. Tyler pulled the sheer white shower curtain to the side, revealing a white porcelain tub and tiny square tiles up and down the walls. A big square piece of wood was nailed on top of what must’ve been a small window, preventing any light from getting in.
He got a few towels out of the cabinet under the sink and laid them on the ground in front of the tub. “Get on your knees and hang your head over the tub,” he said. “I’ll run the water through your hair to dampen it.” The showerhead was detachable. He slipped it out of its base and brought it down to his side.
“I don’t think you get hair wet before you put color on it. Read the directions!” I went ahead and got on my knees just in case.
He paged through the pamphlet, a little too quickly for my taste. “You’re right. Glad I thought to check that,” he smarted. “Hang your head over the tub anyway, just incase I get this crap anywhere besides your hair.”
Using the tube-shaped applicator, he squirted the hair color all over my head, running his hands through my hair, blending in the cold, sticky gel. It stunk to high heaven, but it was still better than burnt toast and stale coffee. When he finally finished, he twisted my hair in a bun and told me I could sit up. It was going to take at least twenty minutes for the color to process. I got up while he washed his hands and sat on the toilet lid.
He told me stories about his shopping trip while we waited. By the time he finished sharing almost every detail, it was time to rinse my hair. Water splashed everywhere, completely soaking me. Thank God I had new clothes to change into.
I grabbed a towel, dried off the best I could, and then walked over to the mirror. Holy crap! I barely recognized the brunette girl looking back at me. I couldn’t believe how different I looked simply by changing my hair color. This identity change really was going to work.
Crimson Groves Page 12
