Page 9 of A Vow for the Vamp
Two more men in suits stand at double wooden doors.
More security guards?
She’s definitely important. A politician maybe? I hate watching the news. It’s depressing as hell. I wouldn’t know a politician if they were sitting next to me. She could be a celebrity. I rarely watch TV in general. Movies, sometimes, but not enough to recognize a star.
Maybe she’s a princess. Or a queen.
No, wait. She said she’s lived in New York for a while. She couldn’t be royalty.
I cautiously follow her through the entrance. The place is dark, with a few lamps illuminating the hallway to my right and what appears to be the kitchen further in on the left.
“Are you bringing me here to murder me?”
“Don’t be silly, Theodore.”
Millie appears in front of me so suddenly,I stumble back.
She reaches out her hand, latching on to my forearm to keep me from falling. Her skin is cold, yet her touch ignites a fire inside my body, spreading wildly through my veins.
She pulls back her arm as if she felt it too.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I shrug. “I told you; I like being scared.”
She smirks and looks me up and down. I do the same. God. I’ve never seen such a beautiful woman before. I’m fighting back the urge to touch her again, my hands shaking with how desperately I want to hold her, kiss her, devour her.
She doesn’t move as I step toward her. Can she see the hunger on my face?
“Can you feel that?” I ask, inches now separating us. She doesn’t ask me to clarify, and to be honest, I’m not sure what I mean either, but she nods. “Can I kiss you?”
Millie stands taller. She’s shorter than me, though she’s wearing heels, adding to her height. I stare into her eyes. They’reunreal. The blue essentially fades under the light, appearing more silver and vibrant up close.
“I want to kiss you,” I repeat, the words nearly a whisper. But she heard them perfectly.
“Then kiss me.”
“The blood…”
“I don’t care.”
She fists my shirt and brings me flush against her body.
She’sthe one who kissesme.
Chapter 3 - Millie
My lips collide with Teddy’s.
They’re soft, gentle, consuming.
It’s not often my lovers treat me so delicately. I’m a big woman and most people feel that gives them the right to be rough. Don’t get me wrong, I love it rough. But sometimes I want to be held like I’m about to break. As if I’m not a cold-blooded killer who’s drained the life out of hundreds of people.
I don’t need to kill to survive. I did it because I was forced to. I was compelled by my sire who convinced me it was fun… exhilarating… addictive. I let the power overtake me until I no longer needed to be compelled. Feeling someone’s life fade, hearing their last heartbeat as I drainedtheir blood, made me feel like a god. It’s what I believed. It’s what I wastrickedto believe.
I was no god. I was a monster.
It’s what Henry made me to be.
