“I don’t know how you are seeing it, but my eyes see finer details in things. I imagine it seems new to you, but for me, it is just how I see things,” Vincent says. He rolls down his window as well and starts to back the car up from where he hid it on the side of the road.
“My apologies for the smell,” he tells me, but the words are insincere. I can feel from him that he is still pleased with his handiwork. I definitely do not want to get on his bad side. And if Vincent feels this way about his killing, how would Olivia feel about the act? She seems much less moral than her protégé.
I’m too amazed at the passing world to start a conversation with Vincent, and he seems content with the silence. Everything is so heightened, even the feel of my clothes on my body. I can’t wait to take a shower and to wash the dirt and gravel out of my hair, to feel the warm droplets on my skin. Every sensation feels new, and I want to experience all of them.
We pull up to my apartment complex. It is close to 3 a.m. Vincent opens the door to my car and scoops me up. Even with his blood in me, I can’t quite follow all his movements, I just know we are soon on my balcony. He opens the door with a set of lock picks he has in his back pocket – I always wondered how he got in and out.
“Do all vampires know how to do this?” I ask, my arms secure around his neck, too enthralled with these new sensations to be angry at him for breaking into my apartment.
“No, most would just break in your door down,” Vincent says as he brings me into my apartment. I suddenly note that it is in serious need of a dusting. I look around and see every little stain in the place; I’m almost ashamed to have let Vincent come in here. This is what he must see every time he is here, except twice as bad, since my eyesight isn’t quite what he is. How polite he is for not pointing it out to me.
“I’m going to take a shower,” I say.
“Do you want me to go?” Vincent asks as he shuts the balcony door.
“No,” I say with only mild hesitation. I take off my shoes and leave them on the balcony as I turn to head towards my shower. I can feel my heartrate begin to increase. I stop to look at myself in the mirror. My skin looks so shiny and healthy despite the grime that is on it from the events of the night. It almost doesn’t look like me. I touch my face, running my fingers over my plump lips. I feel a hand go around my lower waist and nearly jump, looking down to see Vincent’s arm. He gives no reflection in the mirror. He slowly begins to tug up my shirt, and it is like a ghost is removing it.
“Do you ever miss seeing your reflection?” I breathe out as I turn to face him. His fingers tickle across my skin, bringing the little hairs on my arms to life.
“Sometimes, women tell me I’m lovely to look at. Some men as well,” he says, his face so very close to mine. Vincent unclasps my bra and slowly takes it off. I feel my lower body tighten. I wonder briefly how female vampires put on makeup if they can’t see their face, but Vincent is kissing my lips so gently that I can’t think about it anymore.
He pushes me further into the bathroom. He doesn’t take his lips off mine as he opens the shower door and turns on the water. My hands are on his pants, unbuttoning them as he begins to slide my jeans down, pressing kisses lower on my body as he goes. Vincent takes one of my breasts in his mouth and flicks his tongue over a nipple, causing me to gasp and fumble with the damn button of his slacks. He puts his hands over mine and sweeps off his boxers and pants in one motion, pulling me closer to his chest. I run my tongue over his nipple and feel his body shiver as he picks me up under my arms, bringing me so I’m kissing him from above him. He steps backward into the shower while holding me and I feel the hot water stream over my back. Carefully he sets me down, the water cascades over my hair. I look up at him as he grabs a bottle of shampoo and starts to lather my hair with it. I close my eyes; the touch is relaxing. All my horrible thoughts disappear under Vincent’s expert hands. He bends down to kiss me again as he washes the shampoo from my hair.
I press my back against the tiled wall to get a full picture of him. My shower can barely fit the two of us; our bodies have to touch, and I want his form to touch me so much more. Vincent looks erotic with the water cascading through his hair, over his muscles, bringing my eyes lower and lower. I’m mesmerized as he grabs my soap and sponge and begins to lather himself, a coy smile on his lips – he’s enjoying my enjoyment. With shaky hands, I put conditioner in my hair, trying to memorize the sight of his body as the craving for him continues to grow. I feel I might explode if I don’t experience all of him, and I can clearly see he feels much the same way. While the conditioner sits in my hair, he takes up the sponge and begins to clean me off, slowly, paying attention to every sensitive place on my body. He turns me to push my back against his chest so I can feel him hard up my spine as he slowly cleans down my inner thighs, brushing his lips against my neck.
It’s a bittersweet agony. In the shower with the hot water on us Vincent feels warm, he feels so alive. I wonder about the magic that keeps a vampire going, but the thoughts are fleeting, the only ones really sticking are about how much I want him. He turns the shower off and picks me up; my legs wrap around his waist as our lips lock again. He carries me out, grabbing a towel to wrap around us both, his need rising between us. The kisses are becoming more passionate; Vincent’s fang nicks my lip and he sucks on it. A new roll of pleasure sweeps over both of us and he tosses me on the bed. I stare up at him, and he looks like an angel with his steel blue eyes and halo of wet golden hair. Yet his fingers are those of the devil as they slip inside me, making my body arch up and causing me to cry out his name. Vincent takes one of my breasts in his mouth again, but this time, he allows a fang to draw over it, nicking it enough so I bleed. When he sucks, a wave of bliss takes over my body, and I orgasm without the usual build-up. It just hits me, hard and wonderful.
Vincent laughs, small and deep, pulling back from me and licking his fingers. He crawls on top of me and slowly slips inside of me. I understand why he did all the build-up, Vincent is large, he can’t fit inside me entirely without it hurting. He pulls himself out, then edges back in, letting out a groan as he looks down at me. I reach my arms up and wrap them around his back, pulling myself up so I can nip his ear.
“You don’t have to be gentle,” I whisper, feeling him shudder.
“Neither do you,” he whispers back, turning to kiss me as he begins to slam into me. I cry out as he moves above me, my nails finding his back and digging into it. He moans my name. He goes faster, and I wrap my legs around his hips to hold on as he moves.
Right when he is ready to explode inside of me, and I’m standing there on the edge of something I’ve never experienced before, I feel his fangs sink into my neck. I try to cry out his name, but nothing comes out, my body moves on its own, trying to get him deeper inside of me. I feel not only our bodies touch but our minds, I feel the shared enjoyment. I feel Vincent’s bloodlust and how it is such a beautiful mix of war and sex. Every part of me is filled with the shared ecstasy. When Vincent finishes, he pulls back, licking my throat where the puncture wounds are and closing them up, so they no longer bleed. Damn, I’m going to have to wear more turtlenecks, but all of that is just unimportant buzzing in my brain. The dominant thought is just being in a state of peace I’ve never felt before. Vincent kisses me gently, runs a hand down my cheek and stares into my eyes. He doesn’t have to ask if I’ve enjoyed it, I don’t have to ask him if he had a good time. We both know, we both shared completely and vulnerably.
“I have to go,” he whispers. I nod my head, but I don’t want him to. My chest tightens at the thought.
“I’ll be back tomorrow night,” he kisses my eyelids as I close my eyes. I still feel little aftershocks of pleasure coursing through my body.
He stands with me and carries me to the bathroom so we both can clean off. I let him dry me off with the towel, my legs shaking and heart still racing. I have no words because I’m concentrating on breathing. Is this what it was always going to be like with Vincent?
I could feel myself becoming addicted to what he had to offer me, but I just didn’t care. I sit on the edge of my bed as he goes through my drawers till he finds my pajamas. He’s put on his pants, much to my disappointment. He dresses me then picks me up to slip me under the covers, a smile tugging at the edges of his lips.
“This has been far more enjoyable than I expected it to be,” he says.
“I hope you don’t talk to everyone you’ve ever slept with this way,” I say, but I can feel how correct his words are. He too has felt something he has never experienced before. Could I be just as addicting to him?
“No, I’m usually quiet. Most ladies don’t like pure honesty. I feel it very hard to lie to you.” Vincent kisses me one last time before standing. “Dawn comes, I must go,” he says.
I nod, watching him leave my bedroom. I’m still not sure what we are to each other, but whatever we are, I know one part of our relationship that will always be disappointing to me. Vincent can’t spend the day with me; he has to disappear, he has to go lay deep in the ground where to the sun couldn’t touch him. Not that I am much of a daytime person, but I do like to run, hike, go to the beach – some things not possible with a dead boyfriend. But is he really my boyfriend? He called me his but could I call him mine?
I am too sleepy to deal with all these complicated questions. I snuggle further into my covers, turning on my side, and find myself falling asleep. That night I dream of tearing James apart with my bare hands. It’s not a nightmare. I enjoy every millisecond of it.
Chapter 13
I wake up to the sound my cell phone buzzing. I pick it up and looked at the screen. Rick. Has something happened? Has another body turned up?
“Hi,” I say groggily into the phone. It had been extremely late when I finally managed to fall into a fitful sleep last night. Even after three showers, I felt dirty. I don’t think I’ll ever feel clean again.
“You need to get down to the station, Amy. As quickly as you can.”
“Has something happened?” I sit up, alert now.
“I’ll explain when you get here.” Rick hangs up. I sit for a moment thinking about what it could be. It can’t be another body – he’d need me on the scene. Maybe the lab results have come back and the hair doesn’t belong to James after all.
I push the covers back and hop out of bed. The shriek of pain I feel running down my right side tells me I should have been more cautious. I slowly remove my t-shirt and lift my arm, looking at myself in the full-length mirror. I gasp. The whole right side of my rib cage is a mottle of purples and blues.
I check my wrists. They too bear purple marks, though they are nowhere near as angry looking as my ribs. I turn to face the mirror head on. I have clear finger prints on my breast.
I feel anger surging through me. I feel powerless, weak. No, I think. I won’t allow him to turn me into a victim.
It’s not like I can report it. Then Rick would know I followed James. But it doesn’t matter. Vincent has already made James pay for what he did to me.
I can’t help but smile when I think of Vincent, and how he came to my rescue. I laugh at my own sentimentality. What happened to me? I’m supposed to be a cynic.
Slowly, I get dressed and make my way to my car. I am sure to wear a long-sleeved turtleneck. The last thing I need is Rick seeing the bruises. I arrived at the station and go straight up to Rick’s office.
“Sit down, Amy,” he says as I enter. I sit in the chair opposite his.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“An officer went to question Mr. Roberts this morning. He wasn’t at home. His office said he didn’t show up to work this morning.”
There is no way Rick knows I have any knowledge of this. I shrugged, careful not to let the pain from my ribs show on my face. “So, he did a runner. Looks like someone who’s guilty to me,” I say simply.
Rick frowns at me. “A coworker reported seeing James leave the office last night and a woman who matches your description following him. Amy, level with me here. Did you follow James Roberts yesterday?”
“No!” I say, trying to inject just the right level of righteous indignation into my voice. “Believe it or not, following creeps through the city isn’t my idea of a fun day.”
Rick ignores my comment and my righteous indignation. “I hate to ask you this Amy, but where were you yesterday evening between the hours of 6 and 11 p.m.?”
I look down at my knees. What can I say? Inspiration strikes me. I unlock my cell phone keypad in my pocket and hoped against hope that I have hit the right button to dial the last number I have called.
Please hit the right button. Please pick up. Please be able to hear.
“I’d rather not say,” I tell him.
“Without a lawyer?” Rick presses.
This is serious. More serious than I thought, but I can’t back down now. Vincent protected me last night, and now it is my duty to protect him.
“No. Why would I need a lawyer? It’s personal, that’s all.”
“You can either tell me, and we can put this behind us, or you can tell the DA, and you know how messy that could be.”
I nod and pretend to look embarrassed, It’s not hard. I am kind of embarrassed. I’m also praying for a bit of good luck. Praying he’s on the other end and can hear this. And most of all, praying he’ll go along with it if he can.
I look Rick square in the eye. “I was on a date with Adam Manning. The owner of the Cosmopolitan restaurant.”
Rick studies me intently. Then he grins. “I thought you couldn’t stand that guy. He finally wore you down?”
“Something like that,” I mutter. “Call him.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Oh, yes it will. You clearly don’t trust me, and I don’t want this to come back up later and you to think I had time to confer with him. Call him. Right now. And ask him.” My face is set, resolute. Rick must see it in my eyes.
“I don’t have his number,” he sighs, rubbing his hand over his face.
I pull my cell phone out, subtly disconnecting the call. I read the number out. Rick punches it into the phone on his desk. He switches it to loud speak.
Adam answers on the second ring. I cross my fingers behind the desk, praying this will work. If he hasn’t heard the conversation, or if he won’t play along, this will backfire horribly.
“Adam.”
“Hello, Adam. This is Rick Gordon. I’m calling from the LAPD. I’d like to ask you a quick question.”
“Sure,” Adam replies.
Can you confirm your whereabouts last night between the hours of 6 p.m. and 11 p.m., please?”
“Woah,” Adam says. “How do I know you really are who you say you are? And why do you want to know that?”
Rick looks across at me. I speak up.
“Adam. It’s Amy. Just tell him. It’s nothing to do with you, it’s about me and where I was.”
Adam sighs. “I was at home until 6:30, then I went and picked Amy up. We went to my bar. I have no idea what time we left.”
“I see, thank you,” Rick says. “Thank you for your time.”
Adam hangs up without replying. Thank you, I say to him in my mind.
“I’m sorry, Amy.”
I nod. “Sure. Now we’re all in the clear, what are we going to do about tracking down James?”
“I’ve got field officers working on that now. I need you to get over to the lab and try to hurry up the results on that hair sample. I know as well as you do it’s probably not going to tell us anything, but we have to try something. I’m hitting a brick wall here.”
I nod. “Ok.” I stand up to leave.
“Amy, I really am sorry,” Rick says as I reach the door.
“Forget it. You had to ask. I get it. I’d appreciate it if that conversation stayed between us though.”
“Of course,” Rick says.
My cell phone buzzes as the door closes. I pull it out. It is a text message from Adam. You owe me big time.
I decide to head home. No reason to stay here. The ghost of James keeps flickering in and out of my vision. At first, I think I am imagining it, but no. He is real, and I know what he wants me to do: he wants vengeance, just like the girls that Elric killed. He’s not going to get that from me. I know it’s not very moral for me to be happy about someone being dead, but I can’t help feeling the world is a slightly better place without James Roberts in it. Now if only his spirit would go away.
I’m glad he doesn’t ride as a passenger in my car. I get out and take the elevator up. Almost without thinking, I press the button for Damon’s floor. The doors open, and I glance out at his apartment without stepping out from the elevator. After a moment, I press the button again for my floor and the doors slide closed. Damon has barely been on my mind, and I feel slightly guilty for that. But this is for the best, right? That’s what everyone is saying. Damon and I weren’t meant to be together, and now I feel like I can deal with that. He would just be my elusive neighbor whom I didn’t want anything bad to happen to. And I would be the forensic investigator who banged his worst enemy from time to time.
I walk into my apartment and flop down on my couch, kicking my shoes off. It is going to be a while till sundown. Maybe I could try napping. Vincent is supposed to come and visit me again tonight, and I am looking forward to that visit. I absently rub my neck where his teeth bit me. I close my eyes and can almost take my mind and body back to that moment. My delightful little thoughts are interrupted by the sound of my phone ringing, again. I glare at it. Today my phone and I are not on good terms. Doubly so when I realize the person calling is Faye, a person I’m not quite prepared to talk to. Does she already know about Vincent?
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