Page 14 of Fang Fiction

“I’m the manager of the hotel,” she explained, smiling pleasantly. “And this area is really only for employees. So if you’ll just head back down to the ballroom—”

“That doesn’t sound fun.” He slumped toward her, bracing himself against the wall so he loomed over her.

“Are you staying with us at the hotel?” Tess’s heart was thumping. “Perhaps I can send you up some complimentary room service, or call you a cab…”

“What’s wrong with right here?” He gave her that grin again, and Tess knew she should get the fuck out of this stairwell, but she was afraid that any movement might make him pounce. She frantically ran through options in her mind: If she screamed, would he startle? If she pushed him, would he fall?

But before she could do anything, the stairwell door opened again.

“Oh, there you are, I’ve been looking everywhere, naughty Tess.” The woman from earlier slipped in beside them, weaving her arm around Tess’s waist. Tess gave her a panicked look, but the woman seemed entirely unbothered.

“You…” The best man looked from the woman to Tess, his face somewhere between titillation and complete bewilderment. “You two are…you two?”

“Yes, well spotted, we usually do keep it to the two of us.” She kissed Tess’s cheek, and Tess’s face warmed. “Unless…darling? What do you think? Should we invite him to join us?”

“I…” Tess was the bewildered one now. “I don’t know?”

“Come on then, let’s give it a try.” She flashed them both a dazzling smile, then turned to the best man. “What do you think, mate? You up for a little play? I hope you like it rough.”

The best man chortled, like he couldn’t believe his good luck. The woman repositioned herself so his back was against the wall, and then leaned in to kiss him…moving slowly…

Until the very last second, when she tilted her head to the side and sank her fangs into his neck instead.

“Oh my god!” Tess screeched.

The best man’s eyes shot open and he tried to shove her off, but her grip was strong—he was already sluggish from all the booze, and within a few seconds, she’d drunk so much blood that his neck lolled to the side and he slumped to the floor, completely unconscious.

“Damn,” the woman muttered as she wiped her mouth. “I think he got blood on my dress.”

Tess was shaking—she felt like her brain had short-circuited, completely unable to absorb what she’d just seen.

“You—” Tess sputtered. “You—you—”

“Yes, like I said.” The woman sighed and tidied her hair. “I’m Octavia Yoo, and I’m a vampire. Believe me now? You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Welcome?”

“For dealing with that.” Octavia nodded at the man heaped on the floor. “I should probably kill him. Do a service for womankind.”

“Don’t!” Tess yelped. “I mean—the police, the hotel, I work here—”

“Take it easy, I was just having a laugh! Humans get so serious about death.” Octavia peered at Tess with concern. “Goodness, you’ve gone pale. Do you need a water or something?”

For some reason, this struck Tess as unbelievably funny.

“Oh sure! Sure, Octavia Yoo, pretend vampire from my favorite books, will you run down to the bar and grab me a Dasani?”

“What’s that?” Octavia wrinkled her nose.

“It’s a—never mind—what the fuck is going on right now?”

“In the first place, I’m not pretend, as you’ve previously argued and can plainly see. In the second place—I’m sorry, but must we have this conversation in a stairwell standing over an unconscious man? It’s so…déclassé.”

“What conversation are we having, exactly?” Tess felt lightheaded.

“The one where I explain that eight nights ago, I crossed over from the Isle to New York City with no warning or explanation, that I find myself utterly alone and completely without my powers, and that I’ve come here to ask for your help.”

“How…” Tess shook her head. “I’m sorry, but you’re an ancient vampire, and I’m the night manager of a hotel in Brooklyn. How can I possibly help you?”