Page 13 of Vampires Don't Give Hickeys
He chuckled, too. “You’ll get better. You’ll see my sneak attacks coming.”
Would I, though? Every single one of them? I hadn’t seen him or Eddie coming into my life, that was for sure.
My knees bracketed his perfectly honed torso, and I enjoyed the thrill of him between my thighs a little too much. Eddie’s head had been there just last night, and I was starting to feel a little selfish. Not much. But a little. But it wouldn’t be fair to Eddie if I fucked his roommate.
Because that was exactly what I was thinking about.
Hey, we all had our vices. Mine just happened to have fangs.
“You moved your body well.” Jacek brushed stray hairs off my forehead and behind my ear, his fingertips trailing through the strands and catching as if to hold me close.
And close we were. Crouched as I was, my bottom lip almost skimmed his. My breasts, mostly contained in my sports bra and T-shirt, were crushed to his bare chest. Heat gathered between my spread legs, triggering a throb that drowned out my raging heartbeat.
What was happening to me? Why couldn’t I just shut everything down inside me? Was it this house or the smoldering hot vampires who lived here? Because Eddie wasn’t enough. I wanted Jacek, too, so much that it boiled out all reason.
Almost. I slid off of him, although reluctantly, as he gazed up at me from shuttered eyes.
“Is Eddie here?” I asked, my voice trembling.
Jacek stood, looking as graceful as rushing water and not at all pained from the scars on his back. “He’s out, said he had a book emergency. But he said he translated something you should see upstairs.”
“Okay.”
We stared at each other for several beats while I tried to find the will to tear myself from the room. He wasn’t making it any easier with the mischievous quirk of his mouth.
“And Sawyer? I still haven’t had a proper conversation with him yet.”
Jacek nodded. “Maybe you’ll see him on your way upstairs.”
Even if that wasn’t meant to be a dismissal, I took it as one. I turned and trotted up the steps to the library, though I suppose I could’ve tried to climb the pole from the first floor. Maybe next time.
The upstairs hallway lights had been dimmed to a warm, soothing glow, and the scent of apple pie and coffee reached me before the heavenly sight did. A smaller piece, though not any less mouth-watering, sat on a little plate next to a mug of steaming coffee at the table Eddie and I had sat at last night. If Eddie was gone and Jacek was still downstairs, then this had be Sawyer wanting to ruin my waistline.
“Sawyer?” I whispered while following my nose. “You’re the one who bites, so I’m not sure why you won’t talk to me.”
A gentle breeze kissed past my face, intimate and somehow familiar. Invisible fingertips skimmed over my cheek, brushing the corner of my lips. I sighed into the pleasant touch and then turned to see its source whisk by me. Nothing but empty hallway. Was he a ghost? A shy vampire? Either way, I was intrigued, and slightly breathless.
“Thank you,” I whispered, though I wasn’t sure exactly what I thanked him for. Everything, I supposed, though I had no idea what all that might entail.
Boy, these vamps were messing with my mind. And I fucking loved it.
I beelined for the pie and coffee so they would drown out everything else. While I stuffed my face, I read a note from Eddie that he’d tucked inside an open book, its pages as brittle as dead leaves.
Sunshine,
I’ve been brushing up on my ancient Sumerian.
I snorted and almost shot pie out my nose. Sure, brushing up on ancient Sumerian, as anyone normal tended to do.
I picked up this book and realized I translated a part about slayers wrong several years back. Here’s the real translation: ‘And so the slayer shall seek solace with the devil. Then, and only then, will she live, hell’s rules notwithstanding. For otherwise, she will not survive past the year one and twenty. Darkness will come for her, and it is not known. Heretofore, no slayer has ever lived without the devil and escaped the dark.’
We’ll talk soon. Don’t give up hope.
Eddie.
I loosened a breath, shaky with the threat of tears, and read the note again. And again. Each time hoping the words would rearrange themselves into something less horrific.
Year one and twenty. Twenty-one. My twentieth birthday was in just a few days. So if I refused to become the devil’s bride, I wouldn’t make it to my twenty-first?
