Page 64 of Bleed

By the time the last customer leaves, I’ve almost forgotten that I’m now a live-in blood donor for one of the most famous vampires in the country. For a few blissfully ordinary hours, I was able to be just Bex again.

I should be looking forward to heading back to the penthouse and curling up underneath sheets so soft they’re borderline pornographic. Instead, I find myself working slower than normal to break down my station, wiping every surface a little more carefully than necessary because part of me just isn’t ready to leave yet.

Across the room, Devin rises from his station and shrugs into his jacket.

“I'm heading out,” he announces. “Got date night.”

“Tell Alaia I said hi,” I mumble, a little pang of loneliness settling in my chest.

A month ago, he’d be hassling me to hurry up so we could walk home together, probably talking me into spending our tip money on greasy takeout along the way. Now, the night’s ending with the two of us heading in opposite directions.

“I will,” Dev says, flashing me a grin. “She misses you.”

“Yeah right,” I snort.

“She does,” he insists. “I do, too. We should all get together sometime. Have drinks or something.”

“Sure,” I reply with an easy smile, appreciating the thought even if we both know it probably won’t happen. We’ve never really been the type to make plans. We’d just end up in the same place at the same time, one of us wandering into the apartment with a bottle of cheap whiskey or convincing the others to hit the bar after work. It always happened naturally.

Funny how quickly that changes.

Devin tosses me a wave before heading for the front door. The bell chimes as he pushes it open, then it swings shut behind him, leaving the shop a little quieter than before.

Ronnie disappears behind the curtain in the back to start his nightly closing routine, muttering something about inventory under his breath. I barely pay attention, still taking my sweet ass time wiping down my workstation, organizing my supplies, and finding little excuses to linger. I should probably head out, but I’m in no real hurry.

A few minutes pass, then the bell above the front door chimes again. I glance up automatically, expecting Devin to come wandering back in because he forgot his keys or left his phone on the counter.

I definitely don’t expect to see my vampire stalker.

For a second, I think I’m hallucinating. My heart trips over its valves, every muscle in my body going taut.

I only met Vincent once, but he’s exactly as I remember. Same dark hair, same startling amber eyes, same practiced smile stretched over the sharp edges of his face. The kind that probably puts most people at ease, but instead makes my skin crawl.

“Tiffany,” he drawls, voice smooth as silk. “I thought that was you.”

The use of my alias hits me like a slap. It used to feel familiar– comfortable, even– but after not hearing it in weeks, it just feels wrong. Especially coming from him.

I straighten slowly, setting the spray bottle down on the counter before the tightening of my grip cracks the plastic. “What are you doing here?”

He hooks a thumb toward the street behind him. “I was just passing by. Saw you through the window.”

“Uh huh.” My arms fold across my chest, the posture more shield than attitude.

I don’t believe him for a second– not after the questions he asked during our engagement, and especially not after he showed up outside Henry’s townhouse, then my old apartment. Besides, a wealthy vampire has absolutely no reason to be wandering around this shitty neighborhood.

“I think you should leave,” I say, forcing my voice to remain even despite the fear tightening my throat. “We’re closed.”

Vincent’s brows lift in mild surprise. “Whoa, why the cold shoulder?”

His gaze drifts lazily around the shop as he takes another slow step inside, like closing time is merely a suggestion.

“Our last engagement went well, did it not?” he asks, cocking his head as he glances down at my Bite bracelet, then back up at me. “I've sent several requests since then, but I've noticed you haven't accepted any of them.”

Every instinct I have is screaming at me to put something between us. Instead, I lift my chin with false bravado and say, “I'm an exclusive donor now.”

That stops him cold. His muscles lock up, something flashing across his face before disappearing so quickly I almost miss it.

“For who?” he asks suspiciously.