“So, Sebastien.” Sarah eyes me from across the back seat.
“So, what? He is Sebastien Malvani, heir to this absurdkingdom they carved out of the swamp and stole our lives to hold. What about him?” I ask her impatiently. “He is bathed in blood, and did you see his face tonight? Terrifying. What do you want me to say?” I’m as irritated with my reactions to him tonight as I am with her for trying to force it out of me. The shiver that went down my spine when he looked at me over his whiskey tumbler and the warmth that crept up my neck and stained my cheeks red when he made his insinuation about women he might be interested in, are shameful. I shouldn’t find him attractive. I shouldn’t be curious about him at all. But dammit, I haven’t been able to get him out of my head since Saturday.
“Woah Lina, reserve the hostility for your vibrator,” she cackles as she says it, to which I huff indignantly, before she continues. “I know you don’t want to be interested in him. I’m not suggesting you marry him and have his vampire babies—if we are going with the theory that vampire babies are a thing—I’m just saying, for curiosity's sake, you could take one for the team. Find out if his big dick energy is all ego or not. That’s all I’m saying.”
“Why don’t you find out for yourself then—Jack seemed awfully curious himself. I’m sure he would let you take him for a ride.” I roll my head in her direction to see her reaction which is as delightedly shocked as I expected, and a laugh escapes me.
“Rude.”
We ride in silence for a few more minutes, before stopping at the curb in front of her house, and she hops out, giving me a quick wave before heading inside.
Stopping at my house, I pay the driver, and jog up the stairs and into the house. I pop into the kitchen and give Grand-mere a kiss on the cheek, put $700 in the jar—thanks to an unquestionably generous vampire prince—and head upstairs toshower and sleep. And maybe take my irritation out on said vibrator.
I jolt upright in the early afternoon, heart hammering in my chest. My dream is vague but those eyes—the dark heavy gray—felt like a weight on my chest. I can almost taste the whiskey in the air. My heart hammers like I was running from something. Bash is always followed by a faint whiff of the whiskey he drinks too much of, the cologne he covers it with, and smoke. Or fire? I can’t really tell. The men in the romance books I read, when I have time, always seem to smell like wind, snow fall, sunlight, or even flowers. In real life, the monster in my dreams smells like warm liquor, some sort of woodsy cologne, and burning. I don’t know how vampires are actually killed, since I have never found myself close enough to one that is being extinguished to find out. I know it causes a flash of light and it refers to their flame going out, so maybe the fire is because Bash is a vampire? Do they all smell that way? I have no idea. I shouldn’t yearn for the answer.
I have even less idea why I am thinking about the way Bash smells or why I noticed the way Bash smells. I have a few hours before work and decide to go grab some food. I’m a little more flush with cash than usual—considering the extra tips from last night—so I throw my uniform clothes in a backpack, and get dressed in a pair of skinny jeans and an oversized tee that says ‘Vampires: Just goth mosquitos’.
“Bye Grand-mere! I’m going to grab some food and then head to Velvet, see you in the morning!” I yell, and head out the door.
