Creature of Habit (Book 3)

by Lawson, Angel

  November 24

  Dear Diary

  Grant reads during the down time. The house is filled with books and Genevieve sends in boxes almost weekly. Novels, history books, academic journals. He reads things in French, Latin, and Portuguese. When he tires of that he plugs in earbuds and listens to Podcasts. I hear the droning voices anyway but fight to push them aside. These shows, they’re about anything—or everything. No wonder he’s such a fucking smarty pants.

  While he expands his mind I sit next to him on the couch, watching the flames in the fireplace lick the stone walls while holding an opened book in my lap. I try to read, but the words seem too big, too noisy, just like the tiny thumps in my chest, beating like a pendulum, and I lose focus. Grant promises this will pass, and that everything seems overwhelming at first, but eventually I will grow accustomed to the changes.

  Last night he chose a book he thought I would like and read it for me out loud. For once, my mind settled as his voice brought the characters to life. I’d missed such luxuries and leaned back on the soft, cushioned couch while he wove magic with his words. While he spoke I watched a spider build her web as dust gathered on the window's ledge.

  All in all, a good night.

  Chapter 17

  Grant

  “Concentrate.”

  “I am.”

  “On the task at hand, not whatever it is that’s distracting you.”

  “The only thing distracting me, is you,” she muttered, but not quietly in the least. “What you’re asking me to do doesn’t even make sense, and don’t even pretend you’re some sort of expert on this, because for once, that’s impossible.”

  We sat across from one another, knees nearly touching—but not—eyes closed. Well, my eyes were. I opened one and found Amelia glaring at me.

  “You haven’t had a heartbeat in like, two hundred freaking years.”

  I looked up at the ceiling.

  Degas…

  Rembrandt…

  Kahlo…

  Klee…

  “What are you doing?” she snapped.

  “Calming myself.”

  “To prove you’re better than me?”

  “To keep myself from tearing this room apart in frustration,” I said, through gritted teeth. “You’re not making it any easier.”

  She assessed me, clearly trying to determine if I’d made that up to annoy her. Her eyes landed on my taut jaw and she must have realized the truth. We all had to learn to control ourselves.

  That was the point of all this. Figuring out how to slow Amelia’s heart—make it imperceptible. She didn’t need it—not in a traditional sense. And the constant thrum made her a target.

  “You’re the most controlled, composed person I’ve ever met, Grant.”

  I laughed, loud and genuine, which only annoyed her more. I said, “You know it took me decades to at least present the façade that I’m not losing my shit constantly.” Her eyebrow quirked at my use of profanity. “So I have tricks. I catalogue my clothes. I collect memorabilia. I repeat the names of the Masters in my head, until I feel ready.”

  “It’s not the same,” she tried, but her tone had softened.

  I set my eyes on her and licked my bottom lip. “I had to move past the painters to the sculptors the first time I met you.” Her heart quickened and I said, “Slow it down. Make yourself invisible.”

  “I don’t know how.”

  “Close your eyes and think of something—something calming. Peaceful. Settle your bones, your blood.”

  “It’s dumb. And who really cares anyway?”

  I paused and reached for the amulet, palming it in my hand. “This ’gift’ from Laurel has put a target on your back. Something I cannot anticipate or predict, but if you want me to allow you outside those doors, you’ll have to do this. I’m not willing to risk it.”

  “What do you think is going to happen? I’m nothing but a freak!”

  I reached for her hand and am shocked that she allowed me to take it. “Remember how your blood called to me when you were a human?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well imagine that times every vampire in the world.”

  “But why?”

  I shrugged. “It’s different—it’s strange. And it may just be the Holy Grail.”

  “See? Dumb.” She rolled her eyes.

  I leaned forward and touched her chin with my fingers. “Please, Amelia. I haven’t asked you for anything else.”

  Guilt flashed across her features. It was a low move. The only one I had to make. And lucky for me she sighed, letting me know she was willing to concede. For now.

  “We can try again. One more time,” she said.

  Back in our positions I sensed the hesitancy, the tension in her body. Amelia had always been a fighter, filled with passion and intensity, and learning of a weakness didn’t sit well with her. Her anger needed to shift to control. It was fundamentally important to who we were as a species. Especially the way the Palmers lived.

  She closed her eyes and slowly, incrementally, her heartbeat lessened, barely audible in the silent room.

  “Good,” I said.

  A slight smile curved at her lips. “Yeah?”

  “Once more?”

  The smile disappeared. “Once.”

  “Thank you.”

  December 1

  Dearest Diary,

  I want to go to town.

  That's all. Just to town. I want to walk down the street and see people. I want to look in the windows of the shops. I don't even have to go in the shops. I'd be happy with the drive-thru of the local Mexican take-out, even if I can't eat it. I simply want to lean my head out the window and shout into the drive through box, "bean burrito, no onions" just to hear the scratchy voice on the other end. I'm tired of everything being delivered by one of the Palmers or being left at the end of the long, winding driveway so I can't accidentally attack and eat a UPS guy.

  Today I nicely asked Grant if we could go somewhere. It's been weeks. Per usual, he said no. He gave me a condescending smile that didn't dampen his ridiculously good looks before returning to his work. His work. Not Palmer Foundation stuff—that had been handed over to Genevieve. This was something else. About Sebastian.

  They’re looking for him.

  Despite his charm, I was determined. He left me no choice. I had to play hardball.

  I went to the bedroom and changed out of the Queen T-shirt and ratty jeans I had been wearing for a week straight. I don't change clothes often since I accidentally broke the knob off the washer. One of the perks of being a vampire is not sweating or having any body oils. I dug through my drawer and found what I was looking for.

  I can do this, I told myself, slipping on a black, lacy, too-revealing tank top and a tight pair of boy shorts Olivia had delivered. I fluffed my hair once in the mirror.

  I did feel a little guilty as I walked out of the bedroom, shorts riding up my ass because Olivia is convinced I'm a size four when I'm really a size six. My actions could be seen as a low blow since I’ve refused to let Grant see me naked, touch me, or put his parts anywhere near my parts since the change.

  But I did it anyway. I did. I tried to seduce my vampire boyfriend so I could go out in public and possibly get a bag of nachos I could never eat.

  He pretended not to notice when I walked in, but he did; I sense things like that now. The quick flick of his eye, the tightening of his jaw, even how he sucked in a breath so he wouldn't have to smell me. I was onto him, he totally wanted me, and I planned to use my new attributes against him.

  Pacing myself, I focused on putting one foot in front of the other without breaking something and positioned myself directly in front of him, jutting my chest out suggestively. I saw his fingers clench over the edge of the couch and his lower body shift discretely, but he persevered. I removed the papers from his hands and calmly placed them on the end table before straddling his lap.

  He responded, some parts more than others, precisely as I wanted. Other pa
rts, like his mouth, didn't. This is exactly what he said:

  "Amelia, you look lovely. And as much as I want you right now, like, really want you, there’s no way in hell I am letting you do this to get your way. Forget it."

  THAT is what he said to me.

  Of course he also said it with his eyes glued to my chest and his dick pressing like an iron rod into my thigh. Asshole. I shimmed off his lap, lingering just enough to make him wince, and stormed off to my room. I slammed the door hard enough to tear the hinges from the wall and crack the molding on one side.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon in the closet rearranging Grant's shoes, while he repaired the bedroom door. I took the laces out of each one and replaced it with a different, opposing one from another shoe. The perfect rows of shoes were mixed and matched, just enough to send his obsessive compulsive tendencies in overdrive. The amazing thing about having no concept of time is that getting back at my cock-blocking boyfriend could go on as long as I felt like doing it.

  Tomorrow I plan to focus on his T-shirt collection.

  Chapter 18

  Grant

  I stared at the back of my closet.

  At my shoes.

  At the shirts.

  Payback sucked when a vindictive vampire knew all your quirks.

  Fighting every fiber of my being, I left the closet unchanged and walked to the living room. Amelia sat on the couch staring at the fireplace. I eased onto the cushion next to her and said, “So you’re mad.”

  “What makes you think that?” she asked, looking straight ahead.

  “Just a feeling I got from the, uh, rearrangement of my closet.”

  Her eyes snapped to mine and a small smirk played on her lips. Her very pink, supple lips. “Oh that. Yeah, maybe I was a little annoyed.”

  Note to self: That was what Amelia did when she was annoyed. Do not make her angry.

  “Can we talk about this?” I asked. “What you’re upset about?”

  Her eyes were drawn back to the flame. “You don’t trust me.”

  “It’s not you that I don’t trust,” I said. “It’s the hunger inside of you. The animal that neither of us have control over.”

  “Who says I don’t have control over it?”

  I shook my head. “You don’t.”

  I stared at her staring at the fire, her face orange from the glow. Maybe Ryan was right. Maybe I needed to let her blow off some steam. Run wild through the forest. Pillage the nearest village. Shit. Ryan was right.

  “Okay then,” I said impulsively. “Get your coat. Let’s go to town.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yes, seriously. Get your coat and well, maybe put on some pants that don’t have holes in them.” I looked down at her feet. “And shoes.”

  “I know how to get dressed to leave the house, Grant.”

  I smiled. “Of course you do. I’ll meet you on the porch in five minutes.”

  She hopped off the couch, more excited than I’d seen her since—well, since she’d changed. She darted to her room but stopped, racing back over. Quickly she pressed her lips against the side of my face.

  Like that she was gone, but I reached my hands where her skin had touched mine and thought, maybe letting her go was the right thing to do.

  If not, it was up to me to handle the fallout.

  ~*~

  The nearest town was thirty miles away. The Palmers owned twenty in all directions, allowing us a wide buffer from the rest of society. ‘No Trespassing’ signs were nailed to trees and at various spots on the fence surrounding the property. At the edge of our border I stopped her and simply said, “Be careful. I’ll stay close, but I won’t interfere unless I need to.”

  “Really?”

  I nodded. “Go.”

  Her first steps were tentative. As though she didn’t know what to do with her newfound freedom, but she sniffed the air and positioned herself in the right direction. With nothing but the breeze from her departure, she left. I followed.

  Amelia made a beeline for the highway. I thought she’d take the direct route, as the crow flies, that’s how we tended to navigate, but instead, she stopped along the way. First to inspect a shiny piece of quartz on the side of the road, then again, entranced by car headlights reflecting off the landscape in the distance. She placed her hands over her ears to block the sound of the blaring train whistle five miles away.

  She knew I followed her, but paid me no mind. Her hair whipped furiously around her face from the wind. Something interesting must have carried past in the air, as she sniffed once more and darted off.

  I found her walking the tracks on the fringes of town. As we moved closer, voices bounced off the buildings—she’d probably heard them before I did. To her credit she didn’t race off at the first sign of a human but she did announce, “They sound so weird.”

  “Like ants from a plane,” I agreed. “You get used to it.”

  The outskirts turned into the actual village, small—comprising of over a thousand residents. Mostly locals who worked the larger tourist town twenty miles away. I closed my eyes and tried to absorb the town as she would—as a fledgling, where everything sounded too loud, was too bright. The collective sounds of people resonated in my ears, in my chest.

  I wasn’t sure what I was doing—why I was letting her come here.

  I think I just wanted to know once and for all what she’d become.

  A small short strip of shops lined Main Street. A diner. A boutique. The General Store. A dingy bar. A storefront church. Amelia walked casually down the sidewalk, stopping once to peer at her reflection in the window. She studied herself carefully, running her fingers through her hair, sliding her hands over her hips. She blinked and twisted her face to the side.

  “You’re beautiful,” I said, approaching her.

  “Are you sure? Everything looks… weird.”

  I took a chance and wrapped a hand around her waist. “Beautiful.”

  Our eyes met in the window and I saw the signs of a smile tug at her lips.

  Finally.

  She spun and I reached out to grab her, pull her to me but she didn’t stop in my arms. No, she raced past me, disappearing down the street and turning at the corner.

  From my spot on the street I heard the sound of surprise—a deep voice—a man. I heard the low rumble of hunger echo off the brick walls, and I chased her down.

  When I reached them, Amelia’s teeth were firmly clamped in the flesh of his neck. He looked at me with trembling fear, and I hesitated.

  “Oh god,” Amelia said, lifting her head and dropping the man to the ground like a rag doll. He shook and struggled to get on his feet. Amelia turned and spat on the pavement. I lunged for the man and helped him stand.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, snapping his neck with one twist.

  His eyes glazed and he fell limp to the ground.

  Behind me, Amelia retched.

  “Amelia?” I asked.

  “I feel it,” she said, wiping the bright red blood off her lips.

  “What?”

  Her bloody hand landed on her chest. “Guilt.”

  Chapter 19

  December 20

  If I thought the feeling of my heart, pounding away in my chest, was annoying, I’d never really considered what it meant to have a heart. Humanity.

  It grows in me daily.

  Digging its tentacles around my brain, in my limbs. I feel. Something in direct contrast to my new life.

  My body tells me to kill. My brain encourages it. My feelings… my soul? It fights back harder every day.

  Grant says it doesn’t matter since we feed on animals anyway. Since the Palmers have dedicated their lives to helping humans. It shouldn’t be a big deal.

  But it feels confusing.

  They made a choice to live this way. They’re martyrs.

  I’m a freak.

  Chapter 20

  Grant

  I buried myself in work. Sebastian’s case. Amelia asked for space. I’d giv
en it to her just like the other times—before—when she needed time to work through her emotions. I understood her better now, even though I was definitely confounded by her struggles.

  I stared at the computer screen filled with police crime scene photos. Sebastian—I had little doubt it was him—had littered the East Coast with bodies. Vampires, each and every one. Decapitated. Burned. Sometimes even tortured.

  “What the hell are you doing, little cousin,” I muttered to myself as I scanned the video footage taken by a particularly observant teenager in the suburbs of Maryland. Once again he appeared as an enhanced blur.

  The floor creaked behind me and I saw Amelia’s reflection in the screen. I spun and caught her standing in the doorway, hair twisted back in an intricate braid.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hey, how are you feeling?”

  She shrugged, fingering the tuft of hair at the end of the braid. “Okay.”

  “I like your hair.”

  “Olivia said it helps with the motor-skills.”

  “Ah, Olivia is very wise.”

  “Isn’t she?” She walked over and stared at the monitor. “What’s this?”

  “This is what Sebastian has been up to since he left Asheville.”

  She picked up the mouse, and I heard the crack of plastic. Amelia released her grip. She frowned and readjusted, using a lighter touch to scroll down. “All of these? There are at least five deaths.”

  “At least.”

  She frowned. “What do they have in common?”

  “Other than being vampires?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, he seems to be heading north, yet not in a direct manner. He veers back and forth a little—“

  “As though he’s hunting something?”

  “Yes. Exactly.”

  “But why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She turned and sat on the edge of the desk. It was all I could do not to take her in my arms. I listened to the faint beat. Looked into her blue eyes. Tried so very hard not to stare at her lips.