Page 2 of Another Curvy Girl and Grumpy Vamp

“Since you seem to be the queen of hideous bumper stickers, you could answer better than I.”

She taps her chin before giving me another dimpled smile. “Hmm, maybe. I’ll investigate it. Thanks for the suggestion.”

“I absolutely did not,” I growl, and this time the lowered timbre wipes her smile. I should take my victory, but her fear disarms me in a way her cheer did not.

“This…uh, it won’t happen again,” she says, biting her bottom lip nervously. My control frays until the cord becomes a singlestrand. She doesn’t know that the simple act of biting her lip sends a shockwave rippling through me. Every muscle in my body tenses, and for a split second, I see myself pinning her to her eyesore vehicle and kissing her until she can’t breathe. Staking my claim until neither of us can.

No. Focus, Baden.

“Make sure that it doesn’t,” I grind out. I sound angrier than necessary, but the best way to stop myself is to push her away. Because I may be one of the undead—but I have never, would never, force myself on a woman.

Her eyes widen, and she steps back slightly, as if she reads the internal battle raging in me. Something flashes in her gaze. It’s not fear, but recognition. As if she sees beyond my exterior, past the brooding front and into the pit of my darkness. Darkness that hasn’t seen light in centuries. And this mere chit of a girl is full of light.

“Right,” she mutters, shaking her head and backing away. Her smile withering beneath by glower. “I’ll move it right away.” She waves to my car. “If you’ll just…” Right. I’m blocking her. She can’t get out until I leave. My mind refuses to move, but my feet do.

Good. That’s the right choice. Move the car. Get out of here. Let me forget the way you look. Let me go back to pretending I don’t feel anything.

But even as she heads toward her door, my eyes don’t release her. They track every movement, the sway of her apple hips, the soft curl of her fingers as they fumble for her keys. My muscles clench, my body betraying my mind. I shouldn’t care. I don’t care.

But I do.

I’m forced to move first. Reluctantly, I drag myself back to the Bugatti. This shouldn’t irritate me as much as it does. Witha frustrated sigh, I reverse the car, giving her enough space to escape. She should thank me. She won’t.

She finally fumbles the door open and gets back into the thing she considers a car. When she gets into the driver’s seat, something blinks in her expression. It’s gone before I can decipher it. She gives me a sunny smile and a cheery wave when she catches my eyes in her rearview. Does she feel the pull too? It’s subtle, but it’s there. If so, why is she smiling? Not a damn thing about this interaction is giving me the “Happy Vibes” she’s promoting on yet another bumper sticker.

She starts the engine, and the sound of it rumbles through the silence. Warning me that I still haven’t given her enough space. When I do, she reverses out, her curls bouncing with each tiny motion. The disturbingly bright car peels away like it’s taunting me. Before she goes, she gives me a cheeky little toot-toot on the horn. The sound breaks the garage’s sound barrier. It’s light and …playful.

Who the hell beep-beeps a vampire?

She’s gone before I can say another word, swallowed up by the garage’s gray maze. My preternatural hearing picks up her engine as she searches for another parking spot. The space she leaves behind is colder, frigid. Which is absurd. Unless she’s a witch—she’s not—then she her absence can’t change the weather. She holds no power—over anything—certainly not me. She’s just a grad student with a bad parking habit and an annoying car.

Still, I wonder: where is she going? Does she have a safe spot to park? This city is dangerous, full of unpredictable assholes, both normal and paranormal. Even with the resident-only access, anyone could slip in. I continue listening for her car, the opening and closing of her door, her footsteps. I’m just being practical. That’s all this is—a logical concern for a stranger wandering into a potential threat. Yeah. That’s what it is.

But what if—

She’s meeting someone? A man?

Sharp anger pierces rational thought, rooting me to the spot. My hands grip the edges of the steering wheel begging me to follow and rip the guy apart. Did she leave me for someone else? Flames burn through my veins. Jealousy gnaws at me, tightening its grip.

It’s none of my business. None. She’s nothing to me. A human parking poacher. Nothing more. Which doesn’t explain the fire churning my gut.

Her atrocious vehicle disappeared down the ramp a while ago. Her taillights faded into the abyss. And yet, her scent lingers. I should stay in the car. Wait it out. Give the aroma time to dissipate before wading into it again. Would the extra time matter? Rhetorical question, I know the answer. I could go a lifetime and follow her scent trail. Something about her found a way under my skin.

For centuries, I’ve avoided this. I’ve walked through the world detached, watching humans live their insignificant lives with their petty dramas and fleeting desires. None of it mattered to me. I made sure of that. After Claudia…there was no point in feeling anything. It only led to pain.

But this woman with her curls and sass—she’s cracked something open. And I’m not sure how to stop it. I grit my teeth, pulling my mind out of the chaotic storm swirling through it. No. I can’t go down that road again. Not after what happened last time.

I shut the engine off with a hollow finality. Forcing myself to put this encounter in a box. Lock it away. I’ve been through worse. I’ve seen more. This is nothing. It has to be. But as I make my way to my penthouse’s private elevator, I’m still thinking about her. And that, more than anything, is dangerous.

The metal doors slide open on the twentieth floor—where I lord over every other resident. The cool air of my city sanctuary does little to calm the heat simmering in my blood. I tear off my suit jacket and toss it onto the sleek, dark leather couch. My hands, which have been steady for centuries, are trembling. A human. A woman—I don’t even know her damn name—has done this to me.

I stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, staring at the blinking lights below. From here, the constant motion, the chaos looks beautiful. Moments ago, in that very chaos, I almost lost control.

I should be angry. Absolutely furious that someone parked in my spot, wasted my time and disrupted my evening. But I’m not. Instead, I’m… unsettled. Rattled. And I hate it. I catch my reflection in the window—the slack tie, the tired eyes that haven’t smiled in decades. And behind the reflection, there’s Claudia’s face again, smiling in that way she used to, soft and serene. But her face shifts, blurring into my parking bandit.

I slam my fist against the glass, the windows rattle but hold strong under the force. This is ridiculous. There’s no point in going down this road again. And yet, despite all my logic, something about her calls to me.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out, grateful for the distraction. The screen lights up with a message from Javier, my head of security.

---