Page 3 of Messy AF
Mostly, however, I hadn’t left my house in the past week because I didn’t want to collapse in the middle of a grocery store or a busy intersection. Peter didn’t need to know that, though.
“I understand that,” he responded with a quiet chuckle. “In that case, I’ll get out of your hair. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”
“I’m fine, really,” I assured him again. I hadn’t meant to worry him, but I appreciated his concern. “It was nice of you to check on me.”
“It’s no big deal.” He rubbed his hands together and glanced around the living room. “Is there anything you need before I take off?”
“Thanks, but I can’t think of anything.”
We said our goodbyes after that, and I watched him jog down the porch steps on the security monitor with a frown. I liked Peter, and while he hadn’t said anything alarming, something about the energy of the exchange felt…off.
Maybe he’d had a bad day at work, or perhaps some other stressful event had happened in his life. I felt a little guilty that I hadn’t probed deeper, but then again, I barely had the bandwidth to deal with my own problems. I definitely didn’t have the capacity to take on someone else’s.
Shaking my head, I turned away from the door and went to prepare for Warren’s arrival.
two
~ Warren ~
IpulledintoTobias’drivewayand parked beside a midnight-blue sedan, just as the sun kissed the horizon in the west.
Normally, I wouldn’t have accepted a job so quickly, especially an ongoing one, but after reading the details, I hadn’t hesitated. The guy had really been going through it, and his situation presented legitimate safety concerns.
While professionally worded, there had been an undertone of desperation in his request that couldn’t be ignored.
Exiting my SUV, I left my suitcase and other personal items in the back as I followed the walkway to the porch steps. While he had already signed the contract, he still had the option to back out, and I didn’t want him to feel pressured into a choice that made him uncomfortable.
Located near Bliss Lake, the small cottage appeared well maintained with a manicured lawn and a cozy front stoop just wide enough for a rocking chair. Painted in a cheerful shade ofyellow and decorated with planters of bright flowers, it stood apart from the other cookie-cutter houses on the street.
It felt welcoming, inviting, and I grinned at the wreath of wildflowers that adorned the front door.
The sun reflected off the windowpanes, painting the glass in shades of orange and pink like enchanted flames. I had always loved sunsets, that transition period between day and night, and this happened to be a particularly beautiful one.
Despite the myths popularized by books and movies, vampires didn’t burst into flames or crisp up like bacon in the sunlight. We just happened to be a little more sensitive to the rays, but nothing sunscreen and a good pair of sunglasses couldn’t combat.
We weren’t dead. We didn’t need an invitation to enter a private residence. Garlic, holy water, and crosses wouldn’t repel us.
And we damn sure didn’t procreate through a bite.
It would be laughable if it wasn’t so insulting. We had about as much ability to change mortals into one of us as we did to turn ourselves into teakettles.
To be fair, pop culture did get a lot of things right. Vampires needed a steady diet of blood, but we could, and did, eat a variety of other foods. We moved at lightning speeds and could bench press a Buick if the situation called for it. Our sense of smell rivaled that of werewolves, and we didn’t die from old age.
Though immune to illness and able to heal rapidly from most injuries, we could still be killed. And many had been, back in the dark days before shadelings had been accepted into the mainstream.
Yet, nearly a century later, despite all the laws and protections, the myths still persisted.
Adopting a casual smile, I pressed the doorbell, then took a step back to look up into the security camera mounted over theframe, providing a clear view of my face. A moment later, I heard shuffling—slow, heavy—and the distinct clicks and grinds of locks being disengaged.
The door opened, and I tensed when a male of average height and build with tousled brown hair and tawny doe eyes stepped up to the threshold.
A thin Henley draped loosely around his lean frame, the cream color complementing the golden undertones in his complexion. Black lounge pants billowed around his legs, the hems brushing the tops of his bare feet, the cotton barely clinging to his narrow hips.
He had the most striking yet contradictory features. Angular but petite. Dark, but somehow soft.
And the most alluring fragrance I had ever encountered wafted off him, saturating the small porch and filling my head. Crisp and clean, it reminded me of sun-drenched laundry, made imperfect only by a tinge of uncertainty.
Our eyes locked, the moment stretching out into what felt like eternity, but in reality, no more than a second or two had passed since he’d opened the door. Pushing aside the unfamiliar feelings that swelled inside me, I stepped forward and offered my hand.
