Love Bites

by Annabelle Costa

  “I’m not a big believer either,” I say, although I don’t know if it’s entirely true. I’m not religious, but I certainly believe in something. I touch the cross possessively.

  “If you’re not religious,” he says, “why are you wearing a cross?”

  Because my crazy friend thinks there might be a vampire roaming around. I probably shouldn’t say that though.

  “My friend Gabby gave it to me,” I say. “I thought it was pretty.”

  Hunter drops his finger to touch the cross itself. I don’t know if it proves or disproves anything, but he doesn’t yank his hand away and scream that the cross is burning him. So… Hunter’s not a vampire? I guess?

  God, Gabby can be ridiculous sometimes.

  “Hey,” I say. “I should tell you that Gabby actually really wants to meet you.”

  He drops his fingers from my neck and visibly stiffens. “Oh?”

  I shrug. “No rush or anything, but maybe we could double-date with her and her boyfriend.”

  Boyfriend. I just called Jamie her boyfriend. It doesn’t sit well with me.

  Hunter takes a step away from me. “I don’t know about that, Brooke. I’m not really excited about meeting all your friends.”

  I stare at him. “What does that mean?”

  One thing I can say for Hunter is that he doesn’t get defensive easily. He knows what he wants and he’s not afraid to say it. “I don’t really feel like having some awkward dinner with your friends,” he says. “I’m dating you—not them.”

  “Yeah, but…” I frown at him. “It’s not like I’m asking you to meet everyone I know. It’s just Gabby—my best friend.”

  “I’m just not interested right now.”

  Well, that says it all.

  “So what is this then?” I point to him and then point to me. “We’re just messing around with no interest in the future?”

  Hunter doesn’t take his dark eyes off mine. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You sort of did.”

  “Because I don’t want to meet your friend?”

  I let out a sigh. I don’t know why this conversation is even surprising me. Hunter looks like a commitment-phobic jerk and now he’s playing the part perfectly. I shouldn’t have expected anything less. At least I didn’t sleep with him.

  “Hey.” Hunter reaches out to take my hand. I try to pull away but he holds tight. “Just because I don’t want to have dinner with Gabby, that doesn’t mean I’m not serious about you.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “I mean it.” He gives my hand a squeeze. “I like you a lot, Brooke. I don’t want you to think otherwise.”

  I lean against the window. If it broke under my weight, I’d fall thirty-two stories to my death. Maybe I shouldn’t lean on it. “Okay,” I say.

  “Look,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine, “I think… we should be exclusive. I don’t want to date anyone else but you. And I don’t want you seeing anyone else but me.”

  Exclusive. With Hunter T. Stone. He rubs his thumb against my palm and I shiver.

  “What do you say, Brooke?”

  I smile. “I say, let’s do it.”

  He leans in and kisses me. He’s such a damn good kisser. I still don’t feel certain of anything in this relationship, but when he’s kissing me, I can shut my brain down and enjoy the ride.

  After making out for a few minutes, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. I have to pee, but I also want to reassure myself that Hunter’s bathroom really isn’t bigger than my entire apartment.

  It turns out it isn’t, although it’s certainly comparable to my bedroom. I take care of business, then do what I know I shouldn’t do but can’t help myself—snoop.

  It’s not hardcore snooping. It’s more like observing. I observe that Hunter uses an electric toothbrush, and he’s also got floss on his sink—it at least partially explains his perfect teeth. He’s got a bottle of aftershave on the sink as well as a hairbrush embedded with a few of his jet black hairs. No gray yet, even though he’s likely in his mid-to-late-thirties.

  I look at the medicine cabinet and am seized with the desperate urge to crack it open and see what’s inside. But I don’t. I’m not that big a snoop.

  He’s got a shelf mounted on the wall, and it’s got sunscreen on it as well as cue tips, cotton balls, and a razor blade. Finding all this ordinary stuff in Hunter’s bathroom is such a relief. Sometimes he seems so perfect that I can’t fathom him using something as mundane as cue tips.

  And then I see something unexpected.

  Behind the package of cue tips is a little pile of about five bobby pins.

  Bobby pins.

  Sydney’s obsession.

  “They keep my hair from flying everywhere,” Sydney used to insist when we teased her about always having bobby pins stuck in her hair. She’d defend them to the end. She claimed she could also use them to pick locks, but I never saw her utilize that particular skill.

  And whenever she visited our apartments, she’d always leave a handful of bobby pins behind. “Just in case I need them when I’m here.” It was like her calling card.

  And somehow, Hunter’s got a little pile of bobby pins in his bathroom.

  This is hardly an indictment of my almost-boyfriend. Bobby pins are, after all, fairly ubiquitous. Anyone could have left these here at any time.

  I pluck one bobby pin off the pile. I notice there’s a hair stuck in it. I look closer and see that it’s a blond hair.

  Hunter did not date Sydney. He couldn’t have.

  Although he is tall, dark, and handsome. And he won’t meet my friends. And his name starts with H.

  At this point, I’ve been in the bathroom far too long. Fortunately, I have a pocket in my skirt, so I shove the bobby pin with the hair in it inside my pocket, deciding I’ll figure the whole thing out later.

  When I come back into the living room, Hunter is sitting on his leather sofa, holding a glass of red wine. I see he’s poured a second glass for me, which is resting on his coffee table. He smiles at me.

  “I hope you like Cabernet Sauvignon,” he says.

  “Sure.” I don’t know anything about wines. I’m only 90% sure that he’s even referring to the wine. Maybe he’s referring to his wall art. “Love it.”

  I settle down next to him on the sofa, thinking uneasily about the bobby pin in my pocket. It couldn’t be Sydney’s. It just couldn’t be.

  “Can I ask you a question?” I say.

  He raises his eyebrows. “You can certainly ask.”

  I force a smile. “I was just wondering… were you dating anyone before me?”

  For a split-second, his dark eyes grow even darker. But then he chuckles. “I have dated women before you. Absolutely.”

  “No,” I say, not allowing him off the hook. “I mean, like, right before me.”

  He’s quiet for a moment before letting out a long sigh. “Do we have to talk about this, Brooke?”

  “Well, I’m just… a little curious,” I admit. “I mean, aren’t you curious about who I dated before you?”

  “Not really,” he says. “I’m much more interested in the future than the past.”

  “Were you seeing anyone though?” I press him. “Just… tell me yes or no.”

  Hunter glares at me. “No. I hadn’t dated anyone in six months before you.” He shrugs. “Work is busy—there was no time.”

  I stare at him.

  “Look, I don’t want to talk about any other women,” he says. “All I want to focus on right now is on us. I thought you were on the same page?”

  “I am,” I say.

  He slides closer to me on the sofa. I feel the heat of his breath on my neck. “You smell so sexy, Brooke.”

  There he goes with that “smell” talk again! But actually, I have to say, Hunter smells rather sexy too. It must be that expensive aftershave he keeps in the bathroom. He kisses me again and this time I feel his fingers snaking under my shirt. I don’t stop him. Just because he’s not get
ting to home plate, doesn’t mean he can’t get past first base.

  Or maybe even a little farther than that…

  Hunter’s lips are still on mine as his hand cups my breast, and my entire body is on fire. His other hand is on my hair, sliding up my scalp and even that feels intensely erotic. Hunter’s fingers feel like they’re charged with some kind of wonderful electricity.

  He gently pushes me down against the sofa, his lips moving down to make contact with that sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder. I gasp with pleasure. God, he’s good with his mouth. So good. So, so good.

  And even as his lips and his right hand continue to do their magic, I feel his left hand on my knee, riding up my thigh. He isn’t the first guy to try to subvert my rule about three months—they almost all try earlier, and I honestly can’t say I blame them. But usually when that hand starts creeping past the mid-thigh level, I stop the guy. I don’t just let those fingers keep creeping up there.

  I know in my head I should stop him. I’ve only known Hunter a month and I made this rule for a reason—because I’ve had too many relationship come to an abrupt halt at one or two months out. I’m usually so levelheaded about this. Usually I don’t let a guy get away with something like this.

  But I’m letting Hunter. Not just that, but I want it. So badly. More than I’ve ever wanted anything before in my entire life. I feel like making love to Hunter is my purpose in life. I will surrender to him. I will be his. I will give myself to him.

  I wonder how fast Sydney gave in to the guy she’d been dating.

  Sydney.

  The thought of the bobby pin in my pocket jerks me out of my Hunter-induced haze. I place my hand firmly on his and move it pointedly back down to my knee.

  “Oh, come on.” He grins charmingly. “You were enjoying yourself, weren’t you?”

  “I was,” I admit. “But that’s not the point. I can’t just… you know my rule, Hunter.”

  “Right,” he sighs. He brushes away some black hair that had fallen against his forehead. “Three months. Got it.”

  I frown. “You think I’m a prude.”

  “Well…”

  “You know, three months is not at all an uncommon—”

  “Shh,” Hunter says, putting his finger on my mouth. “It’s okay, Brooke. I’m not an animal. I can wait another two months.”

  I scrunch my forehead up, studying his face, trying to decide how upset he is with me. He definitely looks frustrated, but not angry. “You sure you’re okay?

  “Absolutely.” He smiles and it appears genuine. “You’re worth waiting for.”

  And then he leans forward again to kiss me, keeping his hand on my knee this time. I try to recapture the excitement I’d been feeling moments earlier, but somehow I can’t stop thinking about that bobby pin.

  Chapter 19: Brooke

  Hunter asks me if I’d like to spend the night at his place, swearing he’ll stay in his own bedroom all night and I can take the guest bedroom, but I have to be at work tomorrow morning, and I don’t have so much as clean underwear here. I also feel like it’s too early in my relationship for him to know what I look like first thing in the morning. I still feel like I have to maintain an aura of perfection for this man.

  So Hunter calls for a limo to deliver me back to my apartment building. The whole thing is paid for in advance, so all I have to do is sit in the back, wondering if I still have to tip.

  When the limo pulls up in front of my building, I can’t help but notice the couple enthusiastically making out by the front door. I smile in amusement until I realize the couple is Jamie and Gabby. At which point, I get that sick feeling in my stomach that I’ve now become accustomed to.

  In the three years I’ve known him, I’ve seen Jamie kiss a handful of women at various times, but it’s hard to assess from that what his kissing ability is. But I can see whatever he’s doing right now is making Gabby very happy. His lips are pressed against hers and she’s pressed against the walls of the building, a smile playing on her lips. It’s at that moment I realize any chance I ever had with Jamie is gone forever.

  And it makes me feel so goddamn sad.

  I climb out of the limo and it drives away before I can think about whether or not I’m supposed to tip. I can’t stop staring at Jamie and Gabby, and what’s worse is that I have to walk right past them to get inside the building. Honestly, it’s really rude of them. Don’t they know that people would like to get home without having to push past kissing people?

  I try to hurry past them before they can notice me, but I trip over my own heels on a crack in the pavement. I manage to catch myself, but not before I let out a little yelp that pulls Jamie and Gabby apart.

  Jamie’s cheeks redden when he’s sees me, but Gabby just grins wider. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so happy with a guy in all the years I’ve known her. And for the first time in a while, I realize how cute Gabby is. I get so used to looking at her that I forget what she really looks like. But Gabby is pretty, especially when she’s all dolled up with the mascara bringing out her eyes and her big boobs squeezed into a low-cut blouse. Even her pixie cut looks cute tonight. I can see why Jamie likes her.

  “Sneaking home awfully late, missy,” Gabby teases me.

  “I could say the same for you,” I point out.

  “Touche,” she laughs. “And when do we get to meet this mystery man? Shooter, was it?”

  I roll my eyes. “Hunter.”

  “Right.” She nods. “So when do we meet the guy? Jamie’s down with it, right?”

  Jamie’s smiles crookedly at me as he reaches for his cane, now that he’s not leaning on Gabby for support. “Sure. I want to meet him.”

  I toy with a strand of my red hair. “Um, Hunter feels like it’s a little… soon to be meeting my friends.”

  “What?” Gabby bursts out. “Too soon! What’s wrong with this guy? Brooke, I’m getting a commitment-phobic alert here.”

  “Look,” I mumble, “it hasn’t been very long. He’s got a point.”

  “It’s a red flag,” she insists. “Jamie here is willing to meet my friends. Hell, he’d meet my parents if I wanted.”

  Jamie’s blue eyes widen. “Your parents? Jesus, Gabby…”

  She smacks him in the arm. “I’m saying hypothetically, you idiot. Don’t have a panic attack. Sheesh.” She sighs. “Okay, fine. It’s not totally weird that he’s hesitant. But I still want to meet the guy.”

  “You will,” I promise. “Soon.”

  “It better be.”

  I walk up the steps to the front door and take one last look at Jamie and Gabby. “Um, you coming inside, Jamie?”

  It’s a loaded question. Gabby already told me they haven’t had sex yet. Will Gabby come up with Jamie tonight? Or will she go home? I may have a three month rule about sex, but Gabby has no such rule. At some point, it was a “five date rule” then it became a “three date rule.” Now I suspect it’s just a free for all.

  Jamie takes Gabby’s hand in his. “I think we’re going to stay out here a little longer,” he says.

  “Oh,” I say. “Okay.”

  “G’night, Brooke!” Gabby calls.

  “Good night,” I say.

  And I quickly walk into the building before I have to watch them kiss again.

  Chapter 20: Tom Blake

  April, 1907

  I never go to the sheriff’s office to report George missing. I know it has to be done eventually, but with Ma still out of town, the only person who could do it is me. And I’m scared if I look Sheriff Eckley in the eye, I’ll break down and tell him everything.

  When I get home from Sullivan’s today, I find Chas sitting on my sofa, waiting for me. There is a glow in the room, even though the oil lamp has not been lit. I stand in front of him, too nervous to move or even speak. I know this man says he’s my brother, but it’s obvious he isn’t here for the sake of brotherly love. I don’t trust him.

  “You kept your mouth shut today,” Chas observes.
“Good job.”

  “Thanks,” I mumble.

  He smiles that charming smile. I imagine he is just as skilled as our father at making women fall in love with him. “Sit down, brother. We have much to discuss.”

  Chas has a slight accent I can’t identify. Something foreign—maybe European. My father was a traveler, from what I can tell, and I wonder if his travels took him overseas. It occurs to me that Chas might be the one to finally answer my many questions about our father.

  I sit on the sofa next to Chas, but not too close. Last night, I sensed something very dark and evil in the man, and I’m afraid of what he is capable of. Then again, it can’t be anything worse than what I did myself last night. I’m beginning to fear I’m just as bad as he is. Or if I’m not right now, I will be someday.

  No. I won’t let that happen.

  Chas studies me curiously. “How do you feel today?”

  “Good.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Just good?”

  “Very good,” I amend.

  That is an understatement. I feel incredible today. I feel like I can climb the highest tree and jump from there to the next highest tree. At Mr. Sullivan’s shop, I lifted an entire side of beef on my own without so much as grunting. The side of beef can’t have weighed less than five-hundred pounds.

  “It gives you incredible strength, doesn’t it?” my brother says.

  “What does?”

  A smile touches his lips. “Human blood.”

  My stomach turns. I don’t want to have this conversation anymore. “Chas…”

  “I know it’s a shock, Tom.” He rests a hand on mine, but I yank it away. “I felt exactly the same when I was your age. I went through the same exact thing—I promise you. But the sooner you embrace it, the easier of a time you’ll have.”

  I lift my eyes to meet his. “Embrace it?”

  “Embrace the cravings you have,” he says. “Recognize that you are powerless to resist. That you must take human life for the sake of your own survival.”

  My mouth falls open. “You’re crazy, Chas. I’m not going to kill anyone.”