Page 11 of Blood Gift

4

Vanessa

“Are you ready?”Holden stood by my side with his arms folded over his chest, sunglasses already in place over his red-ringed eyes.

At least it was a sunny day—he generally looked ridiculous when he wore them in the rain. It was either that or wear contact lenses to make his eyes look more human and less… unsettling.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” I asked, glancing at him in the mirror as I admired the dress I’d just picked off the rack. Tight but modest. It showed off my curves, but kept me covered. Just how I liked it.

“I’m not. I’ve been standing here waiting for over forty-five minutes. It’s a good thing I’m not in a hurry.”

I clenched my teeth against the snide comment threatening to come out. It wasn’t easy, trying to be nice and mature and even-tempered, but I had made a promise to myself and intended to keep it.

My entire life had been spent thinking only about myself, and I had sworn to any higher power listening while I was a tied up hostage in that old hotel that I would be a better person.

Of course, I didn’t expect to make it out alive.

A promise was easy to make when a girl thought she was standing at death’s door.

I forced a smile. “It’ll just be another few minutes. Relax. I know you’re in a big hurry to get your caffeine fix on the way home.” As if he would drink coffee.

He snorted. “Can’t you magically make yourself feel more awake? Do you need to put drugs in your body?”

“Coffee is not a drug.”

“It is.”

“You’ve been talking to my mother again.”

“She thinks you ingest too much caffeine.”

I whirled on him. “Okay. Why don’t you just tell me everything my mother thinks I do wrong or has given you the heads up to keep an eye on? Just get it out all now. Come on. I’m waiting.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You’re the one letting my mother—who is not your charge, in case you forget—tell you what you should be watching out for. That sounds much more ridiculous to me.”

“She’s worried... after losing your sister.” He lifted the glasses and propped them on top of his thick, dark hair.

It was a staring contest, and I blinked first.

“I know she is.” I turned back to the mirror and noticed the frown lines between my eyes.

My hand shook when I raised it to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear.

“Can you blame her?”

“What do you think? No. I don’t blame her.” I was careful not to look at him.

“You feel a lot of conflict about your sister’s death, don’t you?”

“Wow. You can’t stop picking at half-healed scabs, can you?”

“A disturbing visual.”

“Says the guy who drinks blood,” I hissed, looking around first to be sure nobody was listening. “You know what? Screw it. I don’t even want to go to the coffee shop now. This is stupid.”

“I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

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