So I'm Not a Vampire? (Peaches - A Paranormal Shifter Romance Book 1)

by Rosi S. Phillips

  "Who's there?"

  "Oh? Can she mean me?"

  "No shit I mean you," I bit off, cranking my neck this way and that to see into the shadows. I didn't know what I would do if the voice really did belong to some kind of slasher bad guy, but screaming and begging for my life were at the top of my list.

  The irony of my thoughts set in a second later. Here I was, the freaking walking dead worrying about a serial killer. What was the worst he could do? Kill me? Been there, done that. And, I mean, I watch a lot of karate movies, so I was about 99.9 percent sure I could take the guy on.

  But instead of a dude, a fat black cat strolled out. The thing twitched its tail, and—if cats could look aggravated—gave me an aggravated look.

  "Well, aren't you the pot calling the kettle black?"

  I looked hard at that cat, because I was pretty sure it had just spoken to me without opening its mouth. Oh God! Was I becoming crazy from hunger? Was the next step me breaking into the drugstore and stealing all their dried cranberries and strawberry soda?

  "And she calls me fat," the voice snickered.

  "Mind saying that again?" I had no problem picking a fight with a cat if the thing really was talking to me. When I was nine, I almost punched a parrot because it kept saying my breath smelled like butt. Am I proud of that? Well, maybe not, but that stupid bird was a total dick.

  "Ah, so you can hear my thoughts. That's quite interesting." The cat moved toward me and circled me like I was prey. It was weird considering the thing came to about my calf. A sort of weird fear came over me, one I couldn't explain.

  It was like that time I was watching Craig Kosicek, this nerdy fifth grader, getting picked on by these douche-y seventh graders. One minute they were pushing him around, and he was saying quit it, and the next he had one of the guy's ears in his mouth and was biting it off while he punched another dude in the face. The kid went from sweet and nerdy to vicious animal in a second.

  That's how I felt about the cat.

  "A more apt word would have been frightened," he said as he came to a stop in front of me and sat back on his haunches. "The story was unnecessary.”

  "Maybe I'm missing something here, but cats aren't supposed to talk, right?" Aren't I clever? No shit cats don’t talk! It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that one out, but the whole dead girl and talking cat thing had me using half my normal brain cells.

  It only occurred to me a second later that the cat could be a shapeshifter or fellow vamp. Maybe now that I was a vamp, I was giving off a supernatural vibe that welcomed all the boogie men and paranormal romance stars.

  Hmm ... Maybe I would meet a single, alpha werewolf with a dark past and a giant schlong. That would be perfect.

  "The better question would be: how are you hearing me?" His tail twitched as he got up and turned back into the darkness. "And could you please think of something besides sex? It doesn't exactly help your case when all I can get out of your mind are quick, jumbled thoughts along the same lines as Sookie Stackhouse and Stephanie Meyers."

  The fact that the cat was well-versed in vampire pop culture surprised me. Weren't all supernatural beings supposed to be centuries old, use big words, and talk with a Transylvanian accent?

  I heard a metal jingle come from the shadows where the talking cat had disappeared. "What do you mean, 'help my case'?"

  The cat emerged with a set of keys dancing on his tail. With a quick flick of the appendage, he threw the keys at me and I caught them with my face. Nothing like a cold, metal key to the forehead to wake a girl up.

  "Never mind, it's not important now," the cat replied. He sat back on his haunches, licked his paws, and gave me a curious look. "Would you mind driving me back to my hotel? I'm a bit tired, or I'd do it myself."

  Was a cat actually asking me to be its chauffeur? This day just couldn't get stranger. From dying, to finding out I was a vampire and then meeting a talking cat, I'd have the best story since, like, Jesus. Maybe that's how I'd get rich! Sell my life story to Hollywood.

  "And hope that they don't either call you crazy or give you to the government for testing? Smart girl, aren't you?"

  I flipped the stupid cat the finger. "You know what? You can just drive yourself home!"

  I turned sharply, deciding to take my chances with the school buildings and security.

  "Fine," the cat said flippantly to my back, "but you're not a vampire. So you can stop thinking that you're going to bite some security guard. You won't."

  Again, I wasn't sure how I didn't break my neck with how fast I turned. Oh, and if cats could look smug, this one was looking like he’d just convinced a canary that his mouth was a nest.

  "What do you mean I'm not a vampire? Of course I'm a vampire."

  He shook his head and licked his front paws again. "No, habibi, I'm a vampire. You, however, are a mystery."

  I barked out a laugh as I looked at the pudgy cat and watched his tail flick in agitation. "You? Shouldn't you go find Sabrina or something, Salem?"

  The cat stood up and stretched his limber body. The action looked more dangerous than a killer brandishing a gun. "Ah, a Sabrina the Teenage Witch joke. How original. Are you going to drive me: yes or no?"

  So those were my options. Trek into the great unknown with a talking, fat black cat who claimed to be a vampire and said I wasn't a vampire, or take my chances with the university. I couldn't even count how many heroines had been given a similar choice of one or the other, this or that. Why were there always only two choices? Why not, like, three or ten?

  "Are you really a vampire?" I finally asked because, well, I couldn't really think of another choice.

  "Yes. Are you going to drive me?"

  I sighed. Here was my life. I went from Kmart manager to cat chauffeur in the blink of an eye. "Yeah, what the hell."

  I clicked the keys to unlock the door and spied a smooth, sexy, red-hot Lamborghini fifty feet away. I couldn't help the low whistle that came out of my mouth.

  "I'm Peaches, by the way," I said as I walked side by side with the cat to the sports car.

  "Bane," the cat supplied. "And if you think of a pun, I'll scratch your eyes out."

  It was on the tip of my tongue, too, or the tip of my thoughts. What a name for a cat, but it worked perfectly for my situation. Peaches the vampire and Bane the cat.

  "You are wrong on so many levels, habibi," Bane purred into my mind as we walked together to the car.

  Chapter Three

  Birthday Suit

  Crisis mode. Here I was, faced with God’s gift to womankind—naked!—in bed next to me. I mean, motherfucker, this dude was hot. I mean fiery, smoking, scream-your-head-off hot! Chiseled features, rock hard … everything, and chocolate skin you just wanted to take a bite out of.

  I couldn’t help it. I freaked out a little.

  Okay, I lied. I freaked out a lot.

  I dashed to the bathroom, and I just barely stopped myself from slamming the door. I flipped on the shower and started pacing around the room. I didn’t even notice how nice it was, or how shiny and new everything looked. One thing was on my mind: the Adonis in my bed.

  “Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Ohmygod.” I couldn’t think of anything else. I tried to scream my head off, but it only came out as a little squeak. I crouched, made myself as small as I could, and tried not to freak out more. It was just—I, Georgia Kent, didn’t sleep in bed with men like that. It didn’t happen—not in this world, anyway.

  If I wasn’t being confused for a lesbian because of my hair choice, I was being attacked or snubbed for my weight. Long ago, I’d understood that I would have to settle, have to live with having “good enough” instead of great. Of course, even that was messed up because “good enough” ex-boyfriend Rob had been gay. Which all proved my point: sexy, hot men did not sleep in the same bed with me unless we were re-enacting Misery.

  The bathroom started to steam, and I started to sweat. It was only then that I realized I was naked. Yet again, I was butt naked. How was I
naked? Who took off my clothes, or sheet and jacket?

  I came crashing to my knees with my palms flat on the heated, black marble flooring. Did I have sex with Chocolate Thunder over there? Oh my God, would I have gorgeous caramel babies who look like little angels, with soft, curly hair and exotic eyes?

  In that rather large bathroom, naked on all fours, I designed a whole life for myself and this mystery man. I mean, my imagination went above and beyond, past insane and right into batshit crazy.

  I looked at the ceiling through my mess of red hair and shook my fist dramatically. "Why God? Why me? How could you do this to me?"

  Yeah, it surprised me, too, when I didn't win the part of Little Orphan Annie in my fifth grade school play. I had melodrama down to a science. Shake fist. Rant. Cry. Plead. Look up and see naked Adonis in the doorway of the bathroom.

  Wait. One of these things doesn't belong.

  "What are you doing, Peaches?" The man looked at me like I was crazy. Well, I mean, I was acting a bit bonkers, but he was also standing there in his birthday suit.

  And then his voice hit me. I don't know why the voice hadn’t registered, but a second later it did and my jaw dropped to my boobs. "Bane?"

  He raised a questioning brow and stepped right over me like I was a puddle on the floor. It was only then that I realized it hadn't been fat the black cat named Bane had been sporting yesterday, but muscle.

  He looked over his shoulder and winked at me. It was the kind of wink that let me know he knew he was hot, knew my panties had gone up in flames, and knew that, very soon, I'd be under him. Man, did the guy have chatty eyes.

  It took me another second before a good dose of modesty and reason kicked in. I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around myself. Yeah, like that was going to do any good now. I looked up to see Bane step into the shower and water rush over his brawny muscles like it wanted him. That's right, the water was horny.

  And so was I.

  I couldn't have helped what my eyes did next if I’d wanted to. One second they were looking at the back of Bane's head, and the next they were looking at his butt. Oh, and what an ass it was. Tight and round, the type of butt you could bounce a quarter off of.

  "Peaches," he said warningly as he grabbed the soap. "Out."

  Apparently I was a dog now. I glared at him, spared one more, longing glance at his tight, muscular body, then stormed out of the bathroom. I could tell when someone needed their privacy.

  Thankfully, time away from the super hot Bane allowed me to think and take note of a few things. One thing I noticed immediately was that we were in a really nice hotel suite. Not room: suite. There were clothes for me in the closet, and they all looked like my size. It wasn't like what you’d see in the movies, with rows of shoes and jewelry and stuff, but there was a skirt, a pair of jeans, clean underwear, and the bare essentials.

  It was also dark outside, which didn't really help Bane's “you're not a vampire” case. There was a mini fridge, thankfully, and a pack of M&M’s. I decided to put my red theory to the test while I waited for Bane. I didn't change into the new clothes in the closet because I wanted to shower first. I did, however, pop a squat in front of that refrigerator and meticulously sort through the little pieces of chocolate candy.

  I didn't really eat the red ones, but instead sucked off the red sugar-coating. My stomach rumbled and grumbled in protest against the meager offering of sugar-flavored spit.

  "What are you doing?"

  I didn't whip my head this time. Bane had this habit—could I really call it a habit if I've only known the guy for twelve hours?—of sneaking up on me. "I'm eating, and what did you do with my clothes from last night? Why was I naked?"

  “You mean early this morning. And I stripped them off you and threw them away, because they smelled like chemicals and death. I’m not in the habit of sleeping next to women who smell like a morgue.” He came over and I could smell fresh, slightly musky male with a hint of some kind of exotic oil. Hmm ... I almost licked my lips. He barked out a short laugh. "Are you licking the sugar off the red M&Ms?"

  I looked up, and up, and up at him. Damn he was tall. And for his sake, sleeping next to me better be all he’d done. "And what if I am?"

  My shoulders squared and my tongue was limber and ready to lash out at him if he said I wasn't a vampire again. While eating, I'd thought a lot about what he said and how I didn't believe jack-squat of it. For all I knew, this man could have been a serial killer, the mosquito that bit me, or not the cat named Bane at all.

  His lips quirked. "I am the vampire named Bane."

  I bit the inside of my cheek and winced. "Whatever."

  He sighed and vaulted over and onto the couch. "Go get a shower and get dressed. We're going out."

  I scrambled up and slapped my hands on my towel-clad hips. "Don't I get a thank you for driving your sorry ass back home?"

  He threw me a roguish smile. "Thanks for driving my sorry ass back home."

  I stared into eyes that, on closer inspection, were dark brown and not black. I so wanted to punch him in the face, but the guy had answers, and boy did I need answers.

  I turned around and stomped in the direction of the bathroom. "Stupid prick."

  "I heard that," he called out as the TV blared to life in the living room.

  "Good."

  Chapter Four

  I Know I Am But What Are You

  I had a tick in my leg. It was probably because I'd been bouncing my leg up and down for the last few minutes in irritation. I think I had a charley horse, too, because the sucker hurt; but it didn't look like it was going to get any better unless Bane finally started speaking.

  For over a freaking hour, we'd been sitting in a cute restaurant that reeked of delicious foods I couldn't eat anymore. It wasn't anywhere near my university, or even near our hotel. After I'd showered and dressed, Bane had declared that we were leaving—didn't take a genius to know that. Except the man hadn't just meant going out to Starbucks, or even a nearby diner. Oh no, he meant out of state. I'd climbed in the passenger side of his sports car, run my hand reverently over the glossy black interior, and then we'd sped off. For a guy who claimed I wasn't a vampire, he took a lot of liberties with my life in that five-hour car ride. I mean, a lot, considering it would take a normal, smart person nine hours to drive from Burlington, Vermont to Washington, D.C.

  A few cops even pulled us over and told Bane he was going well over one hundred miles per hour. Well over. What did that even mean? I didn't ask, because, well, I'd just been happy that we'd stopped and I wasn't in crash position. It was no wonder I'd thought I was going to die as he twisted and curved around the mountainsides.

  Of course, instead of getting a ticket or getting arrested, Bane just told the cop that we were going the speed limit and that the officer just needed to get back in his car and leave. And guess what the cop did? He freaking left. Got in his little paddy wagon and sedately rumbled on down the road while Bane sped off at the same speed, a smirk on his lips.

  This happened too many times for me to count.

  So, after a few hours of death-defying driving, now we were in D.C., seated at a place called Le Pain Quotidien near the Eastern Market Metro. He had a glass of red wine in front of him, there was a delicious smelling bread basket between us, and my leg was shaking the table.

  Bane looked over the rim of his wine glass at me and raised a brow. "Something wrong?"

  I bit the inside of my cheek. "Really? That's your first question?" I tapped my chin and looked around the deserted restaurant, with its turned-over chairs and two blank-faced waiters standing in a corner.

  "Hmm, I don't know, Bane. Maybe it's the fact that it's three hours past closing, you're forcing those poor waiters to stay here, and you took a hellavalotta liberty with my life today."

  Bane put the glass down and regarded me curiously. "I don't really see a problem, habibi."

  My knee hit the table and pain flashed through me. "Shit!" The guy was going to drive me into an
early grave with his bullshit mysterious ways.

  "Careful there."

  I snapped my eyes up to his and noticed a subtle shift in his irises. It wasn't like his eyes glowed green or gold or anything, but red flakes did meld with the brown in a sort of paint-bleeding-onto-a-canvas type of way.