Page 7 of Another Curvy Girl and Grumpy Vamp

Why did I do that? Why am I acting this way? I’m not usually like this. The jealousy. The intensity. The goddamn kiss. And now she’s running. Where is she going? Is she running from me… or to someone else? The thought hits me harder than I expect. Anger courses through my veins. She could be heading to someone else’s arms, to another man’s bed. My fangs drop involuntarily, and I force myself to breathe. No. She’s not my concern. Not anymore. I step out of the elevator, and head toward the garage. The night is calling me in a way it hasn’t in years. There’s a familiar hunger clawing at me, one I’ve kept at bay for so long I almost forgot what it felt like.

The need to hunt.

It’s not who I am anymore. Modern civility, the world we live in now, it keeps me restrained. Keeps the predator in me locked away. Still, the craving thrums beneath the surface, and I need to release it in some way. The city stretches out before me, dark and pulsing with life, but none of it feels right. I slip into the Bugatti, the leather cold against my skin as I grip the steering wheel. The engine roars to life, but the sound does nothing to quiet the storm raging inside me. I take to the streets, driving through the city with no real destination in mind, just letting the night wash over me.

But no matter where I go, no matter how far I drive, there’s only one thing on my mind.

Merri.

Her scent lingers in my head, sweet and intoxicating, wrapping around my thoughts like a vice. Her voice, the way she bit back her defiance, refusing to give up the name, it echoesin my ears. And her face—those wide, stubborn eyes that saw too much, that cut through me in ways I can’t explain—it’s imprinted on my soul.

I push the thoughts away, lose myself in the blur of the city lights, the car pulsing beneath me, but it’s no use. She’s everywhere, haunting me, pulling at me with an invisible thread I can’t sever. I don’t want anyone else. I can’t. Not with her scent and her voice and her face etched into every corner of my mind. And her curves—she felt so soft in my arms. I’d forgotten in this modern world how soft a woman could be. The need to bury myself in it consumes me.

The hunger that called me out into the night isn’t something I can satisfy with just anyone. No. There’s no one else I want. After what feels like hours of aimless driving, I find myself back at my building, the sleek lines of the penthouse looming above me. The city hasn’t changed. The night hasn’t calmed me. If anything, I’m more restless now than before.

I step out of the car. The urge to hunt is still there, but it’s not what I need.

I step into the elevator and her scent assails me. It accompanies me back to my penthouse. Giving me the first peace I’ve had since she fled. It’s not enough but it’ll do for now. Because as much as I want to fight it, I know one thing for certain.

This isn’t over.

Merri

Some people would travel back in time to find their lover. I’d go back to the person who made the first latte and thank him. Like seriously who has done more for humanity? Einstein? Churchill? Dr. King? I bet they all ran on coffee, so the coffee creator wins. But lattes take the bitter drink and add the sweet and spice that fuels life. So, there’s that. There’s something magical about late-night coffee shops. It’s when the whole world slows down, and all that’s left are the soft hum of the espresso machine and the quiet clatter of laptops from night owls like me, hunched over my research.

A double shot latte with a hint of vanilla and caramel keeps my brain running like a hamster on a wheel. Spinning endlessly while I stare at my screen, trying to make sense of my notes. Notes I’ve painstakenly garnered but now seem meaningless. What the hell was I thinking? These notes do little to prove my thesis and the ones that do won’t count as credible sources. How could I make these mistakes?

Why do I even bother asking myself? I damn well know the answer. Baden Eames. Two days since we kissed—when I didn’tsmack his face, or bit his tongue in half—as I would have done if anyone else tried that crap. I could have at least kneed him in the balls. His balls have nerve endings don’t they? Of course, they do. If his erection works, then he feels something down below. And his erection definitely worked… I bury my face in my hands. Damn him. Why am I thinking about the arrogant vamp again.

Because he’s thinking about you…Nope, not going there. Not even in my thoughts. But why else did he have me investigated. I wouldn’t be surprised if he knew about the birthmark staining my ass. Something only a privleged few know about—because it’s not like I go around screwing every guy who catches my eye. And now I’m thinking about screwing Baden. I shut my eyes and shake my head. It’s been three days of these—distracting thoughts. Definitely should have kneed him. And that shit about my family was a threat.Wasn’t it?

I take a deep breath, letting the scent of dark roast coffee and sugary pastries calm my nerves. Opening my eyes I focus on my screen, to find four lines of the letter z. I’ve accomplished zilch. Damn him. I mutter for the thousandth time, but if he’s a vamp isn’t he already damned?

No, not going to think about it. Not going to research vampiric lore and what vampires can and cannot do. Not going to worry about their erections or what magic they can work with their tongues. Because I think I kind of know… now. Definitely now going to wonder if their legendary stamina is just legend. Nope, I going to sit here and enjoy the peace. Focus my energy on school. It's working, kind of, sort of, until I hear the soft chime of the door, followed by the unmistakable sensation of someone watching me. My skin prickles with awareness, and instinctively, I shrink lower into my seat, trying to disappear behind the screen of my laptop.

Please don’t be him. Please don’t be him.

I tilt my head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of the entrance from the corner of my eye.

Damn. His. Vampire. Ass.

It’s him.

Baden, in all his broody, vampire glory, strolling into the coffee shop like he owns the place. Which, let’s be real, he just might. I hold my breath, praying he doesn’t notice me, but of course, my luck doesn’t work that way. His eyes lock onto mine, and it’s too late.

Crap.

I sink lower in my seat, trying to look busy, tapping away at my laptop. Adding another five rows of z’s because I’m shit for brains. Hopefully, he’ll take the hint.

Nope.

He’s coming over.

His footsteps are slow, deliberate, like he’s savoring this moment. I don’t dare look up, keeping my eyes glued to the z’s and even add a few lines of b’s. He stands there waiting for me to acknowledge him. I want to ignore him but his presence is… overwhelming. It’s like the whole room has shifted to accommodate him, and now I’m stuck in his gravitational pull.

“Hello, Merri.” His voice rumbles down my spine. Setting off fault lines I didn’t know I had. Damn it.

I look up, forcing a polite smile. “Hi.”

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