Page 19 of Bitten Vampire
By half-seven I accept one last run—back to the house with the yellow door. The pickup’s nearby, so fifteen minutes later I’m cruising down the same road as yesterday. The rain has been off and on, with me avoiding the worst of it, yet the sky chooses that moment to split wide open.
I groan, but the door of number forty-two swings wide. He’s seen me arrive, no chance to wait it out.
Grabbing the bag, I plunge into the deluge.
This evening I keep my phone tucked away until the final photo—no more rookie mistakes, unlike yesterday. I realise now how stupid and naïve I was to be fiddling with my phone while rocking up to a house in the Vampire Sector for the first time. I won’t do that again.
Rain trickles down my face; a droplet clings to my nose. I shield the bag until I shuffle beneath the oak porch, and then it’s in his grasp. His eyes—more violet than grey tonight—hold mine.
“Quicker this time,” he notes.
I nod, shivering, not knowing what to say, frightened that I’ll say something stupid or rude. My clothes cling—late Spring or not, the wind shaves ten degrees off and steals the warmth from my skin. Without taking my eyes off him, I pull out my phone to snap proof of delivery.
“Where’s your coat?” He frowns, then reaches over his shoulder and hauls off his black hoodie in one fluid motion. The T-shirt beneath rides up, revealing a slab of abdominal muscle before it settles.
Bloody hell.
I glance away, then see nothing at all as he drops the hoodie over my head.
“Sir… please… you don’t have to—” I mumble into the fabric.
“Arms.”
I obey, robot-like. The sleeves swallow my hands, phone and all, and the garment hangs to my knees. Still warm from his body, it smells of musk, metal, and something darker… intoxicating. I stare up at him.
Satisfaction softens his expression: I’m warm, therefore acceptable.
A strange man.
“When do I bring this back?” I ask.
“Keep it. Next time, wear a coat.” The door slams shut.
I flip up the hood, hurry down the path and clamber into the car. Who does that? Who gives a delivery driver their clothes?
I can’t believe I just stood there, mouth agape, while he stripped and dressed me.
I shake my head and pluck at the fabric. A silver-stitched emblem stands out against the matte black: a bird, wings tucked, perched on a round shield. A single drop of blood gleams red at the tip of its beak.
Before starting the engine, keeping the hoodie in place, I wriggle out of my drenched top beneath. Much better. My jeans are still soaked, but I’m not about to peel those off.
I log out of the work app; it’s time to go home.
The soft black fabric of the hoodie covers my fingers as I change gears. Like a lovesick teenager, Iwant to live in it, yet I refuse to cling to a stranger’s clothes. I’ll wash it and return it tomorrow.
Tomorrow. One more day working in the Vampire Sector won’t hurt. Sunday is triple pay, and I don’t have to wait for jobs. It will cover Baylor’s recent mishaps.
I will keep my head down and my mouth shut. I have come to the very sensible conclusion that I can’t solve Amy and Max’s murders and would probably become the next victim.
If I die, where will Baylor go?
Relying on the house to take care of him would be selfish, and I don’t want to leave the wizard’s house alone. In the short time I’ve lived there, I’ve never felt safer. As daft as it sounds, the house is my friend, and Baylor is my fur baby now.
One more day, then I’ll abandon vampire territory and concentrate on clearing my debts, the slow, sensible way,I promise myself.
A marketing job over here, safely beyond Theresa’s reach, is tempting, but serving a vampire Clan is a step too far. Courier work is one thing, servitude to a master vampire is quite another.
Crossing the border, I toy with freelancing in the Human Sector under an anonymous company name. I cringe. The risk of losing everything is just too great. It would break my heart if I set up a company for Theresa to come along and ruin everything.
