Page 52 of My Road Trip with a Vampire: Season One
“You might feel strange for a few weeks, Bea. I’ll explain when we get somewhere safe.” His voice drifts off when I can’t stay awake any longer. I feel faint, grasping for the meaning of his words. He says something about calling Barb for another car and how we’ll have to run again.
I grunt something in response before my surroundings fall away.
* * *
My bed feels soft, and my head feels fuzzy. A spike of anxiety stabs at my belly. What if this has all been a horrible dream, and I’m waking up in Faith’s mansion? I smush the plush comforter around my body. It’s not the dusty quilt from the last bed I slept in.
Then where am I?
I blink my eyes open slowly.
The walls are a crisp white stucco with an abstract painting hanging behind the floor lamp. It’s much too modern to be Faith’s gothic home. I sit up, careful not to move my head too quickly.
I suck in my breath when I see Dennis sitting in the chair pulled up to the foot of the bed. His chin rests on his blood-crusted knuckles, and there’s genuine worry in his eyes. Or maybe it’s hunger. He’s a vampire sitting right next to a bloody human. That’s got to be an awkward position to be in.
“You’re ok,” he says, and it almost sounds like a question. He wipes a hand over his face. He looks more composed now.
I look around the place. It’s a quaint little hotel room, I’m guessing, but I’m confused as hell.
“How did we get here?”
I watch his throat bob as he swallows.
“I ditched the car and packed up some of the valuables we had in the back.” He glances at the duffel bag on the floor. “I ran the rest of the way here with you to shake off our followers.”
“Ok. Guess that makes sense.” I hug my knees to my chest and pick at the dried flakes on my sleeves. There’s one thing I haven’t considered yet. “How on earth did you manage to get us a room when we look like this?” I wave a hand between us, and Dennis pulls a grim smile.
“I compelled every person from the lobby to the elevator. Inconvenient but necessary.” He leans in close enough that I can see the small lines on his face. He’s tense as he speaks. “We’ll have to watch our backs, but I think we’re safe for now.”
There’s an awkward silence as I sit with everything that’s happened. Dennis doesn’t drop his eyes away, which makes things even weirder. The pounding sensation all over my body hasn’t subsided; it’s transforming into something pulsing and electric. There's something uncomfortable between us that I can't put my finger on.
“Are you going to your own room? I’m ok now.”
His nostrils flare, and he grips the arms of his chair tight.
“Actually, I got us a room together. I was worried…” He trails off, a hint of emotion echoing in his words. “I can get another room if it makes you feel more comfortable, but with the blood bond, I thought it might be easier.”
“Blood bond?”
I’m glued to the sight of him dragging his lower lip along the sharp edge of his fang. My pulse kicks up in my neck and between my legs, but the intensity of it scares me. I touch my throat and walk two of my fingers to the sore spot where Marcel sunk his fangs into me. There are tiny indents there, but they feel less raw than I’m expecting.
“Do you want to get cleaned up? Maybe you should get comfortable first.”
I have a zillion questions, but migraine postdrome grogginess and this throbbing sensation are competing for my attention right now. I frown.
“A shower sounds great, but I’m not sure I can stand up long enough for one.”
Normally I allow myself more time to sleep off the bad migraine attacks that leave me weak and tired, but my current situation is calling for hot water and a good scrub.
Dennis makes a soft noise, then curses under his breath.
“I’ll start the shower for you and stand outside in case you need me.”
“Yeah, that works for me,” I say and make my way to my feet.
Steam fills the bathroom quickly, and Dennis stands beside the glass door, closing his eyes while I slip my disgusting clothes off. I fold my arms over my chest and step under the hot water, letting it run down my body. Pools of pink form at my feet, and I rub the hotel bar soap over me, wanting to get all of it off.
“Did you know Marcel?” I ask, bracing my hand on the wall to clean my legs.
