Page 4 of Sinner's Secret

Oh yeah, baby.

Still, would the terrible taste of Sam’s skin ever leave his mouth?

Did it matter?

Nope.

Baz drew strongly only five more times. Six draws equalled a pint. He’d had plenty of time to experiment and it wasn’t even something he had to think about anymore. The blood rushed through his mouth and down his throat in a truly horrific progression.

That first taste was sweet, like drinking one of those fruity drinks with rum and pineapple juice.

Two was fuller bodied, a fine red wine you’d have with steak.

Three had an older port-like quality that made you want to sip it slow. But slow was impossible. What if some beat cop walked by?

Four was sour, vinegar without the fries.

The fifth swallow tasted as if it had been filtered through a pair of well-used, unwashed, fungus-filled sweat socks.

Six was torture. Fire ants swarming in his mouth, burning all the way down, setting his throat and stomach ablaze, making him pray for a death he might never get to enjoy.

He’d been praying for it for a long time.

Baz found himself on the pavement next to his car, breathing hard, fighting his gut, trying to keep his first meal in nearly a week down. His intestines twisted and attempted to turn inside out. But after a few minutes, he won the battle. That small amount of blood recharged his muscles with energy, albeit making him slightly off balance. Alcohol didn’t make him drunk as a normal human would understand it per se, just clumsy.

Only another vampire could tell the difference and Baz was careful not to associate himself with any of those stuck up, obsessive, serial killers. He had enough problems of his own manufacture, thank you very much.

Luckily no other self-respecting vampire would ever touch a drunk. Alcohol was the one thing that they avoided because it hurt like you were swallowing razor blades going down, and who needs that when there are significantly more sober people available? No, he never had to worry about someone poaching from his herd.

He turned back to Sam. The puncture holes had already closed and would be gone by the time his wife opened the door. All thanks to the accelerated healing properties of Baz’s saliva. The effect didn’t last long, but it was enough to hide the evidence of what he was and what he did.

Satisfied, Baz got in the car and drove Sam home, hoisting the now not-so-drunk guy over his shoulder and carrying him inside with no problems at all.

Jolene offered the expected coffee and cake and even managed to slip a slice wrapped in cellophane into Baz’s hand before he escaped out the door. If she knew the truth she’d be after him with a pitchfork.

Enough reminiscing. Time to go to work and earn enough cash to fill up his glove box. He had payments to make.

Damned relatives were worse than the devil himself when it came to keeping track of money owed and other assorted sins. His cousin, the prick, even had it all down in a ledger, like some kind of vampire accountant.

The interior of Baz’s car was cold, and the lingering metallic scent of blood-iron made his teeth itch. He rolled down the window to chase away the reminder of the animal he was, put the engine in drive and stepped lightly on the gas.

He headed back in the direction of Joe’s but stopped outside his favorite diner for a few minutes instead of the bar. It was open twenty-four hours, but sometimes the waitresses needed a ride home at shift change.

He parked and waited, checking his cell phone for messages.

Movement from inside the diner caught his attention. Someone walked out and hurried past his vehicle and down the sidewalk. A woman, wearing the old-fashioned waitress uniform of the diner. She was tall, with light colored hair. It was the new girl. She’d only been working at the diner for a couple of weeks, and he’d never managed to sit in her section. Her posture was that of a frightened creature, all hunched shoulders and bowed head. Still, something about the way she walked, her gait, was familiar.

He knew this woman.

From where?

His view was blocked by the bodies of two men as they passed by his cab, their pace faster than the woman’s. Aggressive. Predatory.

He didn’t like the look of this. He couldn’t have said what it was specifically about their body language that told him they weren’t just out for a stroll. But something about them set every instinct he had on alert.

He was out of his car and following the men before he could second guess himself.

Yeah, Baz didn’t look like much, and he worked hard to make sure that was the impression he gave almost everyone. Loose fitting clothes, a scruffy beard, and stooped shoulders hid a man who looked forward to these kinds of opportunities. The opportunity to beat the crap out of someone who thought might made right.

---