Page 5 of Imprisoned with the Vampire King

Dante sat down on the bed. When he did, I realized I was sitting on his lap.

And he was sporting an erection.

Awkward.

I cleared my throat. "I'm not really interested in prison sex at the moment, so..."

"Drinking blood when you're hungry is a turn-on for any vampire. Don't take it personally."

So it was my blood, not me.

That was cool, I guess.

"As long as you're not hoping this turns into anything else." I gestured between us.

"I'm not. And for the record, I'm not the one sitting on your lap."

Right.

Ahem.

I tried to climb off him, but the room was tiny, and my backpack weighed a fucking ton.

Dante unbuckled my backpack's chest strap without touching my skin or overalls.

"I don't need help," I lied, scooting away from him so I could get to the strap around my waist. As soon as that buckle was unlatched, the backpack slid off my shoulders.

A panicked sound that resembled a pained animal's escaped me as I tipped backward. The vampire had to grab the backpack to keep me upright.

He gave me a look I couldn't read as he helped me pull my arms out of the straps. When I was free, he set the bag down next to the bed, unceremoniously blocking our path out. There was literally nowhere else to put it, unless he tried to set it on the toilet.

Thankfully, he didn't.

"Why does your backpack sound like it has glass in it?"

"Because there's pottery in it."

"Pottery?" Dante lifted an eyebrow. "You carried pottery into a prison full of deadly immortal psychopaths?"

"Yes. It's more important than it seems."

The vampire let out a long breath, and finally deposited me on the bed next to him.

I hadn't realized I was still sitting on his lap.

Oops.

"Alright, Pixie. I fucked up the very delicate balance between the penitentiary's gangs for you, so I'm going to need you to start talking. Now."

"Fist off, I have a name," I said.

"I assumed."

My face flushed. "Don't be a dick."

"Prison does that to people."

"You were probably a dick before you went to prison."