Page 11 of Draco

“Anything you want to know, you ask me. Not my brother.”

“Jealous much?” I muttered. “You don’t look like a vampire. At least, not like the ones I’ve seen on TV or read about in books.” I swallowed hard. “I don’t know how I’m involved in any of this, but I can’t stay here.”

Draco slipped his hands in the pocket of his hoodie as his almond-sculpted gaze latched onto the court.

“Trust me, if it were an option, I would drop your ass back off where I found you.”

“Wow. Screw you too. I don’t want to be in a contracted or pity love story with a barbershop owning, motorcycle riding, man-vampire.”

Under the sun, his eyes changed from the shade of coffee beans to a crisp blue. He stepped toward me, but I didn’t backaway. I couldn’t. Though I didn’t understand our connection, I couldn’t get my body to move when we shared the same breath.

“Frankie, I can give you just about anything you ask for, except the chance to walk away. I can go in depth about why, but those are the facts.”

I shut my eyes when he reached out and adjusted my crooked glasses. For the first time since I arrived, Draco touched me with no aggression behind his action.

“Go upstairs and get dressed. I want you to ride out with me.”

My eyes sprang open. “To where? Some underground cave?”

“Not this time.” He smirked.

“I don’t have clothes.”

“You do. I stopped by your house and put a few of your things in a duffel bag. Go to your room and meet me downstairs in an hour.”

I wanted to protest and check Draco on bossing me around, yet I didn’t want to trigger his bad attitude to return.

By the time I returned tomyroom, there was a wardrobe rack in the middle of the floor. Despite the circumstances, I responded like any girl and rushed over to inspect the clothes. Each piece was black or white, and from what I could tell, they were my size and expensive. In the pit of my stomach, a batch of butterflies danced. Aside from Ms. Green and Sammi, no one had ever given me anything without making me feel like it was a burden.

Since Draco didn’t give me any idea of where we were going, I strummed my fingers over the hangers until I landed on a pair of baggy black jeans, a white racerback top, and a pair of Dunks. I showered a few hours before, so I got dressed and styled my locs in an up-down do.

“Francesca! Let’s roll!”

A chill scolded my spine hearing my full name roll off his tongue. Still, I lingered in the room a little while longer beforeI dragged myself to the top of the stairs. Draco waited near the front door, dressed in the same color and shoes as me. His messy twists looked good pulled into a low ponytail. The style gave me the chance to admire his sharp jawline and the gold and diamonds accenting his neck and ears.

“Where is my makeup? It wasn’t in the duffel bag,” I stated since I couldn’t figure out what else to say.

Draco grinned as he stroked the hair covering his chin. “At the store. You didn’t need that. You’re trying to hide what you perceive as flaws when your vitiligo makes you more beautiful.”

My brows reached for the high ceiling. “That’s not why I wear makeup. I know I’m beautiful.”

“Yeah, but you wear it because you think it makes others believe you’re beautiful. Fuck what they think.”

“Don’t pretend my skin isn’t… odd.” I scoffed as I closed the distance between us. “You’re living a double life, Draco. Maybe you should take your own advice.”

“Your skin isn’t odd; it’s unique. Plus, the situations are different. If I’m transparent in front of the wrong person, somebody dies. If you do it, you may end up in love.”

I rolled my eyes at the smooth talk and walked out the front door. Draco acted like a gentleman, walking over and opening the passenger door ofanold school Mustang. I impatiently waited for him toslideinto the driver’s seat, and as soon as he started driving, I pressed my back against the door.

“All right, tell me about your family.”

“Damn, you don’t waste no time.”

“Well, you kidnapped me days ago. I think it’s time we talk.”

He licked his lips. “Have you heard of a city called Midnight Hills?”

I twisted my wrist as if sayingkind of.

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