Page 3 of To Love a Vampire
I remember the tree we passed when I first arrived. I was starving and bleeding out. Luca dragged me the whole way. I thought I’d die before the graceful warrior got me to wherever she was taking me. But, I remember the tree like it was the gate to heaven. At the time, I had no idea what to make of my saviors.
Carved into the rough bark of the largest redwood I’d ever seen, were the jagged wordsWanderers Welcome. The words sunk into me, filling my gentle heartbeats and broken limbs with a strange feeling. A feeling of hope.
“Ahhh and so the circus begins.” A wolfish smile slashes across Luca’s face.
As someone approaches, I turn with another drink already in my hand. I brace myself for whatever wolf might be lurking, but to my surprise it isn’t a wolf at all.
“Hello, Declan.” I give a short, careless nod, refusing to fully acknowledge the hybrid.
“Hello, Fallon.” He gives a mocking nod in return.
Declan is an outcast among castaways. The confident hybrid-vampire moves to stand next to me, earning himself scowls from a few nearby warriors, their rivaling wolf instincts simmering just under the surface. Clearly, he also wants to watch those who watch me… and maybe piss them off in the process.
His calm and familiar presence is enough for fire to burn through me. Something similar to anger and hate settles around my fingertips, and I have to clench my fist at my side to keep the placid look on my face.
I don’t hate him, I have no reason to. And yet, the reminder his features bring is enough to build unwarranted fury within me.
“I haven’t missed the first yet, have I?” he asks, playing with a lock of my long brown hair that Luca had twisted and weaved into a beautiful cascading masterpiece this morning.
I swat his hand away lightly and take a step back from him, my spine tensing with every move. He reminds me too much of someone else but also not at all. He’s tall and blonde with the steely eyes of his kind. I haven’t been able to look him in the eye since we met. He knows he makes me uncomfortable but he has no idea why. Annoyingly, my distance seems to only cause more of a fascination within him.
“Some might say you’re the first, Declan,” Luca says, scanning the crowd like a hungry cat in a field of mice.
Declan assesses every inch of my body, his eyes burning over my skin. The clothes I wear are similar to the other females but much less revealing. Luca chooses to wear thin, black material that wraps around her chest and ties in the back with matching material around her waist that falls to her mid-thigh. No one sweats much in the Wandering community because no one wears much clothing, an enticing choice of fashion that only seems to breed their lax perspective of love.
It took me months to adjust from the modest clothes of the village I left behind and my fingers still fidget at my bare shoulders and the few inches of my exposed torso, itching to hide my insecurities as much as possible.
“Why are your jeans muddy? Why are you even wearing jeans?” Declan asks like it’s the most urgent issue we might ever have. He glares at the tight jeans that cover my legs, the dry dirt that crusts my boots, and follows the length of my body up to the crossing black top that ties around my neck.
The jagged scar along my rib cage that’s barely peeking out tingles against the cool night air and I force my hands not to show weakness at acknowledging the imperfection and memory.
“Why areyouwearing jeans, Declan?” I ask in a childish tone, taking a sip of the warm alcohol.
Okay, not my best response.
His smile lights up his eyes like I just correctly answered his question. He leans in close and I can feel him brush against my thick, curly hair. “I’d happily take them off if you wished, love,” he says in a hushed whisper that runs down my neck.
I roll my eyes and clench my jaw as I swing my elbow back into his stomach. I hit hard. Hard enough to hurt me as well as him—probably myself more than him. Slowly, he puts one arm over his stomach protectively and laughs. His calm and quiet laughter is almost enough to make me murder him on the spot. His happiness feels so genuine it almost physically hurts me, my chest heaving tight as I realize it’s an emotion that no longer exists for me.
Luca shifts towards us in a defensive stance but I shake my head at her as Declan stalks away.
“I’m surprised they haven’t thrown the hybrid out yet.”
Guilt smothers me as Luca’s statement sinks in. She’s right, Declan isn’t accepted even within the mystic community…
An hour passes with incredible slowness. I’m content listening to Luca describe a new defensive training technique that she’s been working with me on when someone lingers into our conversation.
“I could always join you ladies tomorrow to show you firsthand how that’s actually done,” a tall and stocky warrior says with a smile. His height towers over me but as Luca pushes her shoulders back, I realize she meets him at eye level. “It’s one thing to talk through or mimic these skills but it helps to have training with someone who has had experience in battle.” That charming smile is still spread wide as he leans into me. Clearly, he has no idea what he just said.
Stalking with careful intent, Luca moves past me, brushing my arm against hers, a predatory swagger in her stride. Her glowering eyes hold his until she’s toe to toe with the warrior. Slender bare feet brush the tips of his shining black boots. She harnesses his cautious but curious stare and her revealing and pretty outfit exposes the toned muscles in her back, arms, legs, and stomach.
“If you don’t turn away from our conversation that you rudely interrupted,right now,”her eyes shine against the fire behind him, her words slow and meaningful, “you’ll have even more experience on the receiving end of that particular technique to brag about.”
His head tilts slightly, calculatingly, dark mahogany eyes question the ability of the beautiful female standing before him. The once pleasant smile is washed from his face as he bares his teeth. A spasm shakes his jaw, threatening to reveal the beast beneath the surface.
A few fae nearby stop dancing to the rhythm of the drum and watch the three of us, their interest spiking through the tension around me. Waiting. Two warlocks drinking next to us glance our way but continue their conversation without missing a beat.
The warrior takes one last look into Luca’s menacing eyes before brushing past her, his shoulder knocking against hers. He walks far into the large crowd and doesn’t look back.
