New Title 3

by H. T. Night

  I stared at my monitor. More words appeared.

  I fell in love with you instantly. I know this sounds crazy because I’ve never met you, but I have fallen in love with the image I have created of you in my mind. There will never be a woman on the face of this earth who can compare to this image. All will fall short.

  He stopped writing, and I read his words over and over again. Finally, I wrote my response.

  We are both crazy, Fang. You know that, right?

  Yes, I know that.

  Goodnight, Fang.

  Goodnight, Moon Dance.

  To Be Continued

  And now available at your favorite ebookseller:

  Samantha Moon Returns in:

  Vampire Moon

  (Vampire for Hire #2)

  ~~~~~~~~~

  Additionally, read Fang’s story in:

  Teeth and Other Stories

  (A Vampire for Hire short story)

  VAMPIRE LOVE STORY

  by

  H.T. Night

  The Tribulation #1

  Acclaim for the Novels of H.T. Night:

  “Vampire Love Story is a passionate story that is told from a refreshing perspective. This book was a blast. Night invents a brand new world for the Vampire genre. Great Job!

  —Summer Lee, author of Kindred Spirits and Shenanigans

  “A hip and timely vampire novel filled with real characters and some of the coolest vampires since The Lost Boys! You’re going to love Night’s completely original take on the supernatural.”

  —J.R. Rain, author of Moon Dance and The Body Departed

  “Night is a true story teller. This book is thoughtful and inspirational! I enjoyed the ride.”

  —Elaine Babich, author Relatively Normal and You Never Called Me Princess

  OTHER BOOKS BY H.T. NIGHT

  THE TRIBULATION SERIES

  Vampire Love Story

  Vampire Reign (coming soon)

  BOY MEETS GIRL CHRONICLES

  Winning Sarah’s Heart

  Girl Crazy (coming soon)

  SCREENPLAYS

  Getting Yours

  COLLECTIONS

  Night’s Dinner and a Movie

  A Boy’s Life: Two Novels (with J.R. Hargrove)

  Vampires: Three Novels (with J.R. Rain and Aiden James)

  VAMPIRE LOVE STORY

  Published by H.T. Night at Amazon Kindle

  Copyright © 2010 by H.T. Night

  Dedication

  I dedicate this novel to my family.

  Acknowledgments

  Special thanks to J.R. Rain and Sandy Johnston for all their help.

  Vampire Love Story

  Chapter One

  I rolled over in my bed, and looked at the time on my cell phone. 9:30 p.m. My twenty-minute power nap had turned into a two hour snooze. Oops.

  I glanced out the window to check the conditions outside: completely dark with a lot of wind. Not ideal jogging conditions, but it would have to do. I yawned and stretched. If I didn’t get my run in ASAP, it wasn’t going to happen tonight.

  I am a professional mixed martial arts fighter, and being one has its drawbacks. The biggest was working out when your body is dead tired. Honestly, the last thing I wanted to do on a night like tonight was exercise. And grabbing a bowl of Captain Crunch and putting on an episode of CSI was sounding damn good. Too good. Time to get up.

  There was a knock at my bedroom door.

  “Come in,” I called out.

  “You decent?” It was Tommy, my best friend and roommate.

  “Would I say come in if I wasn’t decent?”

  The door swung open slowly, and there stood Tommy, wearing nothing more than a tiny towel. His body, as usual, was immaculately chiseled. He motioned to his body and said, “Maybe because you are secretly in love with this.”

  “What do you want, Tommy?” I asked, not bothering to hide the irritation in my voice.

  “I want to borrow some of that cologne I like. Cool?”

  “Go ahead. It’s on the dresser.”

  He clapped his hands and strode into my room over to my dresser where I had a collection of cologne on the top of it. I had everything from Old Spice to high-end brands.

  I stood up and stretched. My back cracked and so did my knees. Since when did a twenty-year-old’s knees crack? “So what’s with the cologne?” I asked.

  “I got a date with that box girl at the supermarket.”

  “You finally got the nerve to ask her out?”

  It had nothing to do with nerve, brother. I finally wanted to ask her out.

  I rolled my eyes and started to get dressed for my run. “So it took you five months to want to ask her out?”

  “I like to take things slow before I go in for the kill.”

  “That sounds very romantic.”

  “I’m taking her to Murphy’s.”

  “Wow, classy. “Murphy’s was the fanciest place to eat in San Bernardino. It had it all: ambiance, location, and hot female clientele. “You better keep your eyes on your date and not the waitresses.”

  Tommy picked the cologne he wanted from the top dresser. It was my favorite cologne, Drakkar Noir. He sprayed his upper body and both his legs and even lifted his towel to do a nice squirt inside the towel.

  I walked over and grabbed the cologne bottle from Tommy’s hand. “Like I said, you’re all class.” I pushed Tommy out my door. “Now get out so I can get ready for my run.”

  Tommy stopped himself and turned around. He looked at me seriously, which he rarely did. “Don’t run too far tonight. I’ve got a weird feeling.”

  “You do?” I asked, legitimately concerned. Tommy’s feelings were pretty eerie. I shrugged. “Okay, I’ll be careful. I’ll just run to the college and back.”

  “Get back in an hour and you’ll be fine.” Tommy thought for a second and then added, “Yeah, an hour will be fine. One more thing, Josiah, the Commission is going to let us know who we fight next month.”

  Tommy was also a professional fighter. He’s actually really good and was about to contend for the title.

  I said, “I hope the Commission will give me a real fight this time. Maybe I’ll have a shot to move up in the rankings.” The Commission tended to think I was still a cherry and they were taking me along a lot slower than I wanted.

  “I just need a tune up before my title fight. I need to work out some kinks.” Tommy was fighting for the title in four months.

  “You better hope the Commission gives you just a tune-up fight and nothing more. The last thing you want is to get hurt.”

  “I’m not going to get hurt; I’m 18-0, remember that.” Here he goes again with his undefeated record.

  “You aren’t the only who is undefeated,” I reminded him.

  He stood at my doorway. “Yup, you sure are. Your little 4-0 record is very cute, Josiah.”

  “For the love of God, just go on your date.” And I shut the door in his face.

  “Not cool, Josiah.”

  “And neither is wasting all my cologne.”

  “Touché.”

  I grinned and peeled off my shirt. I looked at myself in the mirror. I needed to lose 10 pounds before my next fight. Did I even have ten pounds to lose? I was six feet tall with very little body fat. I pinched my belly and grabbed as much fat as I could. I got a good handful. Okay maybe I did have ten pounds to lose.

  I studied my face. Pretty clean with few marks or scars. That was pretty good considering I had never said no to a fight in my life. In fact, I had been fighting off bullies since I was five years old. My blonde hair was an easy target for most kids to take their shots at me. In most places, I had to fight my way to respect.

  Nowadays, I looked more like a surfer than a mixed martial arts fighter. People often misjudge and underestimate me. That’s a good thing. Interestingly, there’s something about the way I look that makes most guys want to pick a fight with me. I don’t know if it’s the fact that I look like I should be in a boy band or that I
’m extremely confident; anyway, there’s something about me that makes random strangers want to mix it up with me.

  Too bad for them.

  An ex-girlfriend once asked me why I love to fight. My answer was simple. Some guys were born to fix cars or play football. Some guys were born to be astronauts or to hit a fastball. I was born to fight. It’s the only thing in this world that ever made perfect sense to me. When I’m in a fight time stands still. I see everything in slow motion. My brain goes into Good Will Hunting mode, and I’m able to quickly assess what I need to do to cause the most damage to my opponent.

  Anyway, I put on a pair of sweats, a t-shirt, and my running shoes. Once done, I headed outside the house Tommy and I shared and did some stretching next to the big sycamore tree in the front yard.

  I was still stretching when I heard a familiar squawk from above. I looked up, and there was Daphne. Daphne was a beautiful red hawk that seems to have developed a fondness for me over the past couple of years. She made herself known each day by squawking or flying low enough so I could see her. I still have no idea where she came from or why she seemed so interested in me. I named her Daphne one day after watching an episode of Scooby-Doo. They both had red hair so it seemed to fit.

  “I’m off for a run, Daphne, try to keep up with me.”

  I gave Daphne a wink and took off running. The beautiful bird let out a nice loud squawk and I headed down the street. At first I went kind of slow with my run. Daphne followed me for about a block or two and then pulled back. I kicked up my heels and began to run at a faster pace. I soon ran out of the neighborhood and headed for the main street that led up to Cal State San Bernardino. I liked running at the college. It was pretty peaceful at night and as long as I avoided campus police, I usually had no problems.

  I turned left and headed down University Way towards the college. I could hear loud music which meant I was approaching the Gamma Phi Beta frat house. They always had some sort of party going on, and this Thursday night was no different. Their frat house was a giant two-story white house that stood out like a sore thumb in a neighborhood filled with smaller houses.

  As I ran toward the house, I noticed that the party was really raging. Lots of cars were parked out front and people milling around outside. Music thumped from the open front door. I hurried past the house so I wouldn’t have to hear drunk frat boys yelling out things like “Run, Forrest, run!” or, less flattering, “You run like a girl!”

  But as I was about to pass the house without incident, I heard a chilling scream. The scream was so distinctive and piercing that it made me stop in my tracks.

  I turned around, and as I did so, I heard it again. It was coming from behind the house. The gate was open, so I walked toward it. I thought it could just be college girls having a good time, but then I heard it for a third time. This time it was louder and more fearful.

  As I neared the back gate, I saw movement in a window. A young, dark-haired woman wearing a black dress was desperately opening a window. I picked up my pace, running now. She wrenched up the window, looked over her shoulder, and then jumped from the upstairs window.

  Holy shit.

  She dropped behind some hedges, where I heard her scream and crash through something wooden. She reappeared a moment later, limping badly and bleeding from fresh scratches along her face and elbows.

  She and I reached the side gate about the same time. Amazingly, I recognized the girl. In fact, we had gone to high school together at Eisenhower. She was one of those girls who was into Goth and kept to herself. I saw that she was barefoot and the right shoulder of her black dress was ripped. Blood oozed from the opening. Her jet black hair was messed up and she appeared to have been crying.

  I would be crying, too, if I had just jumped from the second floor. What the hell was going on?

  Her eyes met mine for the first time, and her first reaction was to shrink away from me, but then they widened with what I could only describe as hope. “I know you!” She shouted at me. “Please help me! Please!”

  But before I could react, she threw herself into my arms, nearly knocking me over. I tried to look at her face, but she held me tight.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Are you hurt?”

  She released me and grabbed my arm. “Please, just get me out of here!”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Just get me out of here!”

  “I don’t have a car. I’m on foot—”

  “I don’t care! Just help me leave!”

  I had just watched her jump from an upstairs window, and unless she was on a bad trip, she needed some serious help. But who was she running from? I didn’t know, but I would ask her later.

  “Okay, then.” I grabbed her hand and now we were running back around to the front of the house. The party was still raging. For the most part, her scream had gone unnoticed, although a few guys were watching me. Maybe they noticed her blood.

  And just as we hit the sidewalk, a large redheaded guy burst through the front door and down the porch, chasing us.

  “Lena!” he screamed. “Where you going, baby?”

  “I’m getting the hell out of here, Ron—or Ronnie—or whatever the hell your name is. You and your friends can kiss my ass.”

  I was still holding her hand. A crowd was gathering.

  What the hell had I gotten myself into? I wondered. Again.

  “Well, that’s what we were trying to do until you decided to be a tease.” This guy was a piece of work. He had more freckles than any twenty year old man I had ever seen. He was heavy set and could use some time in the gym.

  Ron smirked and started to walk towards us. Ron was about my height, but he outweighed me by seventy pounds. He looked like an oversized Raggedy Andy doll. Or, maybe the guy who ate an oversized Raggedy Andy doll.

  “Don’t come near us!” Lena grabbed my arm.

  “Who is this guy?” Ron ignored Lena. In fact, he walked right up to my face.

  I said, “I’m going to take her home.” I was very calm and in control. Deep breaths. I could feel myself flustering. I didn’t like guys coming up to my face.

  “Who the hell are you?” asked Ron. He stepped closer to me. I could smell alcohol on his breath.

  “Just go back inside,” I said to Ron. “Go back to your party.” I took a step back to appear less confrontational.

  “And what if I don’t want to go back to my party?” Ron took another step towards me. A bigger step. A very stupid step.

  I looked at this guy. I would get kicked out of Mixed Martial Arts for even entertaining to fight a guy this out of shape. I had to keep my nose clean, as one of my trainers used to say.

  One problem: It’s hard to keep your nose clean when you love to fight.

  I felt my heart rate increase. Blood throbbed in my temple. My left hand, my free hand, opened and closed. It itched to make a fist. It itched to connect with this douche bag’s face.

  “Look, Spanky,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I’m sure there’s a whole sea of girls inside just begging for you to slip them a roofie. Why don’t you just let us get out of here and then you can go back to raping and pillaging.”

  “Raping and pillaging? Oh, you’re funny, Back Street. You’re not going anywhere. I took Lena to this party. If anyone’s taking her home, it’s going to be me.”

  “I kind of don’t see that happening,” I said. The throbbing in my temple increased. Adrenalin was flooding my bloodstream. “You seemed to have loss that privilege the second you and your frat buddies decided to commit a federal crime.”

  “The last time I checked it wasn’t a crime when a girl was asking you for it.”

  “That’s why her hair is messed up and she has a ripped dress.” I didn’t know if she had ripped her dress on the fall from the upstairs’ window, or if he had done it, but Ron answered my concerns soon enough.

  “What can I say? I guess the bitch likes it rough.”

  “You’re a fucking pig, Ron!” Lena yelled out.
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  “Look, whore, you know you wanted it and you got scared once you saw how fat my cock was.”

  My stomach turned. I stepped towards Ron. “Get the fuck out of here, you fat piece of shit.”

  “And what if I don’t?” As he spoke, spittle flew from his mouth and hit my cheeks. I hate that.

  I said, “Then this night will not end well for you.”

  By this time, twenty party members had now made their way outside to see what the commotion was about. Among them were four or five of Ron’s frat buddies. His buddies were of all shapes and sizes, none of them remotely intimidating. They walked over to us, eager to get in on the fun.

  Fighting was fun. Sometimes too much fun.

  Anyway, now they stood next to him in some sort of display of solidarity. Ron said to them, “This guy actually thinks he’s going to kick my ass.”

  Ron had no idea what he was up against, obviously. If he had any kind of street smarts he would take in how I was holding myself. How I was prepared, at a moment’s notice to strike, and strike hard. Any fighter worth his salt knew immediately what he was up against by the way his opponent held himself. Ron wasn’t a fighter. He wasn’t anything.

  And he’s not worth getting suspended over.

  I took in a lot of air. I, of course, had sized up my opponent and knew immediately what I was up against. Ron was doughy and out-of-shape. I could knock him out in seconds. His friends, on the other hand, might cause some problems if they decided to make this a group affair. I didn’t shy away from group affairs. I shied away, in fact, from very little.

  I looked at his friends. Some looked cocky. Some looked confused. Most looked drunk. One or two of them were yelling at Ron to kick my ass. My best guess was that his friends were probably not going to jump, that they were going allow this to be a fair fight, so I put all my attention on Ron.