The man looks annoyed. “Don’t do that again.”
“Fuck off,” I snap.
“Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, did we?” I can’t see his expression behind the coffee mug as he takes a drink, but there is an unmistakable hint of amusement in his eyes.
“Who the fuck are you?” I ask again, still cradling my hands. They aren’t as numb, but the feeling isn’t altogether back yet. “And why are you wearing my clothes? What the hell is going on?”
He doesn’t answer me, which makes me feel like he’s messing with me on purpose.
“Did we fuck?” I assert.
“We did not,” he says finally, lowering the mug to the counter.
“That’s good.” I swallow. “Really good. That means I didn’t get completely blasted.”
“Blasted?” He blinks.
“Drunk,” I say, lowering my hands to my sides. “Still, that doesn’t explain my short-term memory loss. So, who are you and why are you in my house?”
For a very long minute, he assesses me. I can’t make heads or tails of what he’s thinking. Not a single readable expression passes over his handsome face. I try to put that thought from my mind, though, because I shouldn’t find anything about this asshole attractive. Let alone his face or the way my pants hug him a little too tightly.
“You don’t remember?” He tilts his head.
“Evidently not.”
“I fully expected you to be sore,” he says plainly, which borders on disinterest. “But I wasn’t expecting memory loss. Mortals are much more sensitive than I initially thought.”
“Mortals?” I hate how my voice rises with my panic. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It meansexactlywhat I said. You’re mortal.” The man sighs and crosses his arms. “And I’m a vampire.”
“What?”
Mischief dances in his eyes as he flashes his teeth, exposing his top and bottom canines. They appear normal at first, but then they extend into four fine points. I’m paralyzed, but still, I’m unable to accept that as proof. Stupidly, I say, “Okay, you’ve got fangs. So what?”
The look he gives me is incredulous.
“There are other ways to convince you.” He leans in closer to me, hovering above my face by a few inches. “For example, I could compel you to walk outside naked right now, and you wouldn’t be able to refuse me.”
A chill runs down my spine, and I swallow. “Nope. The teeth are fine.”
“That’s what I thought.” Straightening again, he holds out a hand. “We’ve already been through this, but I’m Gray.”
Hesitant at first, I take his hand. Smooth, cool skin slides against my palm. Fingers brush against the inside of my wrist, stoking a response from my body that feels like a slap to the face. All at once, my memories come back to me at an alarming rate.
Halloween at the club; the late night walk home; the stalker in the shadows. I remember being chased into the old church a few blocks from String Theory, and I remember the pain. Gods, do I remember the pain. It doesn’t hurt now, but somehow I can feel the phantom grip of two hands choking me to death. How could anyone forget about almost dying? But then, I did forget about a vampire biting me, too.
“Oh…”
“There it is.” The vampire grins.
“I tripped over you,” I say, stuck on the flashing memories I can recall of the last few hours. The beginnings of a headache starts to form. It’s like my mind is opening a door it tried too hard to shut.
Pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes as everything blurs together. I focus on separating the parts that don’t fit until they come away like the pieces of a puzzle. From the church tower, to the moment I was about to take my last breath, and thenhim. My fear and pain were so intense that a reanimated corpse barely registered. He could have been a zombie, but more importantly, he thought I was a nun. Which is almost enough to make me laugh even now, but I can’t.
“You killed that guy, too, didn’t you?” That was something I could have done without remembering. A dark room with only my phone’s flashlight to see; I saw the violence in the bite and the struggle from the man that assaulted me, fighting for his life.
“And I drank from him.” Gray nods. He isn’t shaken up one bit about it either.
