Page 46 of Road Trip with a Vampire
Peter’s dark eyes were hazy and fever bright. His eyelids drooped, and his pupils were blown wide despite my light still shining in his face. The lazy way his gaze traced down my body and then back up again told me he haddefinitelydrunk his fill.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked again. His voice was pitched low, soft as velvet, as he fixed his full attention on me. The same attention that had been honed by vampires over millennia to hunt their prey.
His gaze was so heated it curled my toes.
“I…” My mouth had gone bone-dry. I licked my lips, heartbeat quickening as he tracked my tongue’s movement with his eyes. “I was just…out for a stroll.”
“A stroll,” he repeated dismissively, clearly not believing me.
I closed my eyes and took a deep steadying breath as I thought through how to explain myself. Huge mistake. Peter wasn’t throwing off the same pheromones he did when he was ravenous, but the scent I’d found quiet and unthreatening when he’d stood at a distance a few moments earlier was richer and far more seductive up close.
Was I only reacting to his very obvious postfeeding arousal? I didn’t know. The longer we stood there, though, the harder it wasfor me to ignore just how attractive he was. And how good Iknewhe would make me feel if he touched me.
“Sorry for being nosy,” Peter said when I didn’t say anything else, apparently oblivious to the effect he was having on me. “I just got worried when I saw you out here alone. It’s dangerous.” One corner of his mouth twitched. “There could be vampires nearby.”
His dry joke cut through the tension. I laughed despite myself. “Oh really?”
“So I’ve heard.” But the way his forehead creased in concern belied his attempt at humor.
A wave of unfamiliar warmth washed over me. “I can take care of myself, Peter.”
“Of that I have no doubt,” he said, eyes flicking to the ball of light I still held in my hand. “Did you wander out here in the middle of the night just to make that?”
I hesitated. “Sort of.”
He nodded, contemplating me. “If you’re finished, shall we go back to the room?” He held out his arm for me, which was such an unexpected and gallant gesture that for a long moment I just stood there, uncertain what to do.
He must have misinterpreted my indecision, because he said in a quiet voice, “I know what I said earlier about my…conditionafter feeding. I promise to keep my hands to myself.”
My face heated, the attraction I’d felt towards him moments ago flaring back to life.
What if I don’twantyou to keep your hands to yourself?
“O-okay,” I stammered. After another brief moment of hesitation, I slid my arm through his. He tugged me in close to his side, the smell of satisfied vampire wafting over me, sending shivers down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold night air.
Eleven
A crumpled letter on yellowing paper, dated June 15, 1902, found at the bottom of a locked trunk by the grandchildren of Mrs.Henrietta Pennyworth upon her death
My dearest Henrietta,
I do hope you are recovering well from the scare you received at our party the other night! When I planned the event I had not known hooligans wearing nothing but witches’ hats on their heads would run unclothed and shrieking through our front garden, ruining everything! It pains me and my family to no end that our oversight has caused you and the rest of our guests mental anguish.
By way of update: the ringleader of those miscreants—a harlot with wild auburn hair known by some in town as Grizelda Watson—ran off cackling like a banshee when I accosted her the next morning. I am told that a group ofyoung men from town has banded together to root out the troublemakers so nothing of this sort happens again.
Please do pass along my kindest regards to your parents. We hope to see you and your whole family at the estate again once you have fully recovered.
Mrs.Elizabeth Chatwick
We walked back to themotel arm in arm. There was nothing out here that could hurt me, but when I said this, Peter simply grunted and pulled me closer. His body was as solid as a statue pressed against me, radiating a chill I could feel down to my bones.
For reasons I didn’t fully understand, though, when we finally reached our room and I let go of his arm, I missed his touch.
“I’m still sleeping in the car,” he said abruptly, his words coming out as white puffs in the cold night air. “But before I go, we should talk.”
He followed me into the room, then watched as I walked towards the bed and sat on its edge. Now that we were alone in our room, Peter’s relaxed demeanor from moments ago was gone. His body was rigid with tension, his arms folded so tightly across his chest that the fabric of his black T-shirt strained against his biceps. I could see in every tight line of his body that he was walking a knife’s edge.
What was he holding himself back from? Was it from biting me? Or from something else?
