Creature of Habit (Creature of Habit #1)

by Angel Lawson

  Ten minutes later I felt a tap on my shoulder and braced myself for Thomas. I prepped myself for an exaggerated yawn and arm stretch to signal my need to go home, but to my surprise it wasn't Thomas but the girl from the restroom.

  "Hey! I saw you sitting here all alone and came over to keep you company." She slid into the bar stool next to me, her bracelets clanking down her arm.

  "Sasha, right?" I pushed the empty glasses out of her way and smiled. "I'm Amelia."

  Sasha flashed me another blazing smile. “How’s the date?”

  I pointed through the dancers to Thomas who was attempting to grind on a small blonde in the middle of the floor.

  "My date is occupied, which is honestly more than I could ask for." I laughed. "He really is nice, just not my type."

  We watched the dancers for a minute. I could see Drew's huge grin all the way over here at the table. He was really hitting it off with Jess, which I was truly happy about. They had identical looks of infatuation on their faces so I felt the night was a success for both of them. Well, at least one of us had a successful night. I turned to Sasha and said, "I think I'm going to head home. It's been a really long day."

  "I'll walk you out. I'm supposed to meet my boyfriend outside."

  I darted over to Drew, telling him my plans to leave and asking him to let Thomas know that I had to go. He waved me off, motioning for me to leave, too involved in Jess to really notice. We both knew he owed me for setting him up with an awesome guy and in return he would do a little damage control for me with my less than spark-inducing date.

  I met Sasha by the door and we walked out of the air conditioned bar and into the warm night. In the bright lights in front of the bar I could see Sasha clearer than before. Again, I was struck by her features. Strong and…maybe it was the confidence? Standing next to her made me feel awkward and out of place. She was the kind of girl I could see Mr. Palmer with. Long legs, perfect face, super model hair, sleek manicured nails. I wondered for a moment if she liked obsessive compulsive men.

  "So you're waiting for your boyfriend?" I asked. “Too bad, I’m pretty sure my boss would be perfect for you.”

  "Nope. Taken. We’ve been together forever.” She smiled. “Caleb called while you were saying goodbye to your friend and said he couldn't come. But I told him about you and he really wants to meet you."

  "Wait, what did you say? He wants to meet me?"

  She stopped and looked at me, her perfect ruby red lips twitched. "Yes. He really does. We can meet him now if you want?"

  Suddenly I realized how unnerving it was to be unable to see her eyes hidden behind those tinted glasses. Was she kidding? Or serious? I had no clue, but I did know that the internal alarm system we all have inside was beginning to frantically clang with warning.

  I took a small step back and said, in the steadiest voice I could muster, "You know, I realized I have Drew’s keys and I wouldn't want him to get locked out…" My words trailed off into an uncomfortable silence between us.

  Well, I was uncomfortable. Incredibly so. Sasha seemed calm. Controlled.

  Bored?

  I took another step back while keeping a fake smile plastered across my face. She reached out and touched my arm. I jerked at her touch and my eyes widened. Fear rippled down my back and my stomach dropped.

  "Amelia," Sasha said as she took of her glasses and pushed them to the top of her head. "I need you to come with me."

  I realized too late that we were alone, near the corner of two buildings that were separated by a small, dark alley. I was looking for my escape when I noticed her eyes in the head lights of a passing car.

  Black. Soulless.

  I choked back my fear and began to run but she cut me off, stepping in front of me, far too quick for a normal person. She pushed me once, hard in the shoulders, and I stumbled into the shadow of the buildings. Her long red nails dug into my flesh, threatening to break the skin.

  "Oh!" I gasped, startled by her strength but not enough to lose my head. I turned and ran again, this time down the alley, since she was blocking the exit. Even in my desperation, the cliché of the moment was not lost on me. I was alone in the dark, cornered by a deranged, sick woman who wore creepy black contacts, who preyed on ridiculous young women.

  I stumbled again in my heels, this time scraping my knee and palms on the gritty pavement. Stupid fucking shoes. Picking myself up, I could hear her behind me, slowly following me in the darkness.

  "Amelia. Please don't do this. It's no use. Once I told Caleb about you, he insisted on experiencing you himself." Her heels clicked against the pavement. “We both think you’ll be a perfect fit.”

  Faint light spilled from beneath the back doors of the bars that used this alley. I dashed in the direction of the loud thumping music. Behind the closed doors, people were nearby. Safety. I reached the door and turned the knob. Glaring music and light poured into the alley. I took a step toward safety and pale arm shot out and slammed the door shut.

  Out of breath and scared half to death I let out a slight cry as Sasha leaned in front of me.

  "What are you doing?" I whispered between quick, short breaths. “You’re fucking crazy.”

  She grabbed my wrist and pulled me forward. She bared her teeth and to my horror she ran her tongue across the front of them before laughing exuberantly. I twisted my arm away, but she held firm, tightening her grip. I buckled under the pressure.

  “God, you smell good.” She ran her a finger from her free hand across my cheek. Her lips were so close to mine for a moment I thought she may kiss me. For a heartbeat I wanted her to. That desire passed when she said, "He is going to love you. All yummy and full of fire. He likes his girls spunky, you know. You will make a wonderful addition."

  “Please don’t hurt me,” I whispered.

  “It will only hurt for a minute, but I promise, the result will be worth it.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  She didn’t reply as the back door opened, flinging against the brick wall with a bang. Sasha and I were knocked apart. A sharp hiss left her lips. I scrambled away and pressed my back to the wall, rubbing the swollen skin on my wrist.

  A man stepped out and filled the space Sasha and I had occupied a moment before. He stood tall and confident. Familiar.

  “Mr. Palmer?”

  "Amelia, go.” His voice was tight but soft.

  Wide-eyed, I looked from him to Sasha. Her eyes were angry, narrowed with rage. His back was to me now and I heard him speak again, with terrifying force, "Now."

  I stumbled on the threshold, falling backwards into the open door. I ran down the hall with only a quick glance backwards. Framed in the doorway they faced off. As much as I wanted to know more, now wasn’t the time. I ran away from the dark toward the bright lights, loud music and safety inside.

  Chapter 20

  Grant

  I kicked open the door, forcing the two of them to stumble away. Ms. Chase scampered into the darkness.

  thump, thump, thump.

  My senses flooded with her excruciating scent, which was amplified by her perspiration and fear. I paused for a millisecond to brace myself but oddly, the desire to consume was trumped by the overwhelming need to protect.

  I stood between them, assessing the injuries to Ms. Chase and maintaining a position of offense on Sasha. I clenched my jaw as I smelled the blood from her scraped knee and watched her rub her tender wrist.

  "Amelia, go," I directed, turning to the vampire.

  She paused behind me, heart about to rip out of her chest. Defiant as always, but this really wasn’t the time.

  Without looking back I spoke again, "Now."

  I felt her pass by me, a wave of her scent assaulting my nostrils as she disappeared into the building.

  Sasha and I were alone now.

  She was plotting, I could see the wheels turning as she ran through scenarios, quickly rejecting one after the other.

  I could kill her. Quite easily, as she underestimated my abilit
ies. It wouldn’t take but a moment, unfortunately I needed information from her first.

  "Where is he?" I asked.

  Confusion flitted across her face. She wasn't expecting that. "Who?"

  I sensed her respect and allegiance for him. "Do you think he feels the same for you?"

  “You have a lot of questions,” she deflected. “None of this concerns you.”

  "Yes, it does. You’re in my territory, drawing attention to yourselves and me by association. Not only by the police but the Council as well."

  She laughed, fake and hollow. "I think this is about more than your territory, don’t you see that?”

  I ignored her psychotic rambling and tried to figure out how to destroy her in this populated area.

  Her confidence grew in my silence and she stepped closer. "You'd better get used to us. We’re not leaving. In fact, we’ve got plans for this little town and you. Oh, and that delicious little human, too. She’s lovely.”

  “If you leave now, I will let you both go without retribution.”

  She frowned. “You don’t get it, do you? We don’t care about retribution. The risk only makes the reward so much better. And make no mistake, you led Caleb right to that little pet of yours. She reeks of you, and you,” she ran her hand down my shirt, nostrils flaring, “are completely consumed by her.”

  I charged her and pushed her to the wall, my hands clamped around her neck. Her eyes bulged but the smirk on her face remained, daring me to make her a martyr for her cause. Her nails scratched against my sides.

  I leaned into her ear, bearing my teeth and growled. "You will stay away from her and you will stay away from the city. These murders stop now or I will tear you apart limb by limb." I pulled her off the wall and shoved her in the direction of the street. She stumbled before gaining footing. "Go. Take that message back to him and pray you never cross my path again."

  She looked ready to pounce, hissing in anger, but I stood firm, and seconds later the back door opened and two bartenders began carrying out bags of trash and recyclables.

  Sasha used the opportunity to disappear into the darkness and I let her go to deliver my message.

  Chapter 21

  Amelia

  I stood outside the kitchen door, next to the bar, waiting for him to come back in. I wasn't sure if he would but I had nowhere else to go. I was too scared to walk to my car alone and I was too freaked out to go back into the bar and look for my friends. So I waited by the kitchen door, pressed against the wall, hoping Mr. Palmer would come back inside and tell me what the hell was going on.

  Who the heck was that girl and what the hell was she rambling on about? She said something about me being a good 'addition' and several things about her boyfriend, Caleb. She looked so crazy with her black, soulless eyes and scary teeth. Someone needed to get back on their meds.

  The kitchen door bumped open and I jumped to see if it was him, but instead it was a short girl carrying out a large tray of drinks and food. I discreetly snagged one of the drinks as she passed and downed it in one freaked-out gulp. The warm buzz wasn’t enough to help me reason out how Mr. Palmer found me in the first place.

  He wasn't the type to go out or party as far as I could tell. And why would Grant Palmer, esteemed CEO of the Palmer Foundation, be in the kitchen of a mid-scale bar? He probably had smashed up food in the soles of his fancy shoes and would expect me to clean them out on Monday.

  Monday.

  I slapped my hand over my face and groaned. I'd forgotten for a moment I'd quit. Well, I was sure he could find someone else to do the job. Surely, there was a temp agency for rich guys, right?

  The door swung open again and I watched Mr. Palmer's tall frame walk by. I pushed off the wall to follow him and he swung abruptly around to face me. Mixed with the typical grimace of pain his eyes relaxed in relief.

  "Ms. Chase, I'm glad you waited. Are you okay? Injured?"

  I nodded slowly, not really sure what to say.

  “Right,” he said, seeming to understand my lack of words. He glanced down at my bloody knee and back to my swollen wrist. "Why don't you go clean that up? I'll wait right outside the door. Then I’ll escort you home."

  Again, I said nothing, but I went in the women's room anyway. I'd been threatened by a woman outside the bar and my former boss, who was rude to me all week, actually saved my life. Now, on top of all that, he was concerned about my scraped knees. If he offered me a Band-Aid I’d probably snap.

  Sure enough, when I walked out he stood stiffly across from the bathroom door. A girl with a low neckline passed him on her way into the restroom and gave him a flirty smile. I observed with fascination that he completely ignored her.

  His eyes were fixed on me.

  Okay, I thought they were on me, but I nervously glanced over my shoulder looking to see if something more interesting was behind me.

  Nope. Just me.

  He gestured for me to walk ahead of him and we made our way through the crowd and out the front door.

  On the sidewalk he attempted to act casual, but something was off. His hands were shoved in his pockets and he rocked slowly back on his heels. His actions appeared forced and deliberate. Was he always this awkward? My gut told me yes.

  The neon lights from the bar signs cast a hazy glow over us, highlighting the red in his hair and accentuating the sharp line of his jaw. Which was a lot more appealing when he wasn’t clenching it in fury. We stared at one another in an uncomfortable silence.

  I let out a deep breath and said, "I have some questions."

  His eyes tightened but he nodded as though he expected this. I opened my mouth to speak but my feet swayed under me. Mr. Palmer reached out and caught me by the arms and held me upright.

  Neither of us moved for a moment. He was frozen, hands clamped around the thin fabric of my shirt. Again, we briefly locked eyes until we both looked away, embarrassed by the situation. I wiggled from under his grasp and he quickly withdrew his hands, stashing them behind his back. My face flushed and I said, "I'm okay. Thanks, feeling a little woozy. Could be the drinks or maybe the attempted kidnapping? It’s a toss-up."

  My attempt at humor did nothing to ease the tension. Stone-faced he replied, "I think I should drive you home."

  What? No. “Can’t you just follow me?”

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

  His tone implied he was not happy about the situation either, but I really didn't have the desire to drive by myself, so I nodded and followed him down the street to his car.

  When we reached the parking lot he pressed the remote to unlock it and he opened the door for me.

  “Thanks,” I said, lowering myself into the car.

  I’d barely buckled up when I realized Mr. Palmer was already in the driver’s seat with the car started, staring straight ahead. He deftly flicked switches and pushed the levers in his over-the-top expensive car. I inhaled the rich leather scent as I sunk into the soft, buttery cushion. Fine, over-the-top, really comfortable, expensive car.

  Through half-lidded eyes I observed that his car was spotless, no trash or coffee cups. Not even a leaf stuck to the floor mat. Even here there was nothing to provide a glimpse of the real Grant Palmer. Whoever he might be.

  I nervously ran my fingers across the dashboard and fingered the lever on the glove compartment door. I twisted my neck and saw him watching me and I pulled my hand back quickly and placed both my hands on my lap.

  "I live on Third and Main," I directed, breaking the quiet of the car. He nodded again, still not speaking. “In that apartment complex that backs up to the river.”

  The quiet hum of the vehicle lulled me but I had questions and very little time to get them answered. "Will you answer my questions now?"

  This time he looked over at me and replied, "Yes, if I can."

  "Who was that woman?"

  "I don't know."

  "Where did she go? Did you call the police?"

  "No, she ran away once I approached h
er.” He must have seen the panic in my eyes because he quickly added, "I have a friend in the police department. I’ll call them first thing and see if we can save you the trouble of spending the night at the police station."

  I let that sink in for a minute and watched his hands manipulate the steering wheel. His fingers were long and slender, arched over the curve of the leather. We rounded a curve and he gracefully moved his hand to the gear shift.

  I decided to go with another line of questioning. "How did you find me?"

  “I heard a commotion in the alley and went to investigate.”

  “So you normally hang out in the back kitchen of bars?”

  “No, I wasn’t ‘hanging out’.”

  “Then why were you there?”

  Silence.

  I shifted my body so I was looking at him even though he continued to keep his eyes straight ahead.

  "Are you going to answer me?" Answer me!

  He pulled the car into the parking lot of my apartment and stopped. He angled his body toward mine slightly, hands still gripping the wheel, his knuckles tense and straining. The leather creaked.

  "No." He sighed.

  "What do you mean 'no'?"

  “There’s nothing else I can tell you about tonight. But I do have a question for you.” He looked me in the eye. "Why did you quit?"

  Nice deflection.

  "I, umm…" I stuttered, trying to come up with a response. He held up one perfect hand and motioned for me to stop.

  He took a deep breath and said in his thick, soothing voice, "I apologize for being rude to you. I treated you unfairly and I was completely unprofessional. Sometimes I don't realize what is and is not appropriate to ask my employees to do while at work. And my tone has been unbearable. I’ve allowed some…personal problems to interfere my relationship with you. It’s unacceptable."

  “No kidding.”

  He laughed lightly and said, "I tend to get a little self-absorbed at times."

  “A little?” I asked, stunned at his revelation. I looked at my hands and sighed. "Thank you for the apology. And well, I owe you one, also. I have no idea what came over me. I totally ruined your shirt. Like, really ruined it."