Page 6 of Blood Lovers

Why I’ve made this place my home.

My first destination is a little cabin nestled along the Beaverhead River several miles outside Twin Bridges, Montana. One man lives inside. It’s a fishing outfit. He runs guided tours or something. It’s not late, but there are no lights on. But even if he’s sleeping, I’m going to wake him up.

I walk up to the cabin, twist the knob on the door—breaking the lock—and let myself in. Vampire lore in the human world is fascinating. I have watched it morph over the centuries, becoming more and more ridiculous, more and more hopeful.

But they always get it so, so wrong. They give me the most idiotic weaknesses.

Sunlight. Please. I relish the sun after a good feed.

Invitations. They are stupid and unnecessary, but at least I understand this one. Humans want to feel safe in their homes. They want to believe that they are in control, at least in this one place. But I do not require an invitation to walk across a threshold. That’s just stupid.

It goes on and on like that. Garlic? Stake to the heart? Wooden bullets? Who comes up with this stuff? Really. The writers need to get an imagination. It’s all so ridiculous.

I close the door and the man is already up. He’s naked, so I deduce that he has a woman in his bed. He’s pulling a pair of sweatshorts up his legs as he hops out into the living room.

“My lord. I wasn’t expecting you.” He says this same thing every time, as if I am required to inform him of my itinerary.

“I need blood. I need a shower. I need clothes. I need that Jeep outside.”

He blinks at me, confused because he is still half-asleep.

So I add, “Please,” to give him an extra moment to catch up.

He snaps to it. “Yes, my lord.”

“Who is that?” A sleepy woman peeks out from the bedroom door, pulling a white sheet across her ample breasts. She studies my naked monstrous body with unabashed lust, her eyes lingering on my cock for a moment. Then her lips form a small smile.

Possibly an invitation of another kind. One I might like to take her up on. The girl is very beautiful. Her breasts are top-notch. And her hair is long, and golden, and tousled, letting me know that she has just had a wonderful time with my slave.

How interesting. I’m in my natural state—which, even I consider quite hideous compared to my beautiful state—but this one sees through my exterior.

Fascinating.

My slave informs the woman of what will happen next. “You need to go, Isabella. Now. No questions. I will call you later.” He has already picked up her clothing and is pushing her towards the door I just stepped through. Her eyes go wide when she gets a glimpse of my wings.

“Hold on now.” I grab her arm before the slave can push her out the door. “If you would like to stay, I won’t mind.”

“She would not.” The slave says this emphatically.

I push him and he goes stumbling backwards. “I wasn’t asking your permission.”

I’m too rough. I realize that. But this girl is quite sexy. My eyes are on her and her eyes are on me. This is one thing the lore got right. We can enchant humans rather easily. But this little trollop doesn’t need it, does she?

She drops her sheet and lifts her chin up. Like I just dared her to do that.

“Isabella.” The slave is sending her warnings. “You need. To go. Right now.”

“I don’t know.” Isabella side-eyes me sexily as she lifts one shoulder in a beckoning gesture. “This is all pretty fascinating, if you ask me. What are you? Some kind of devil?” Her eyes do a little winky thing and her lips pucker around her words.

“You could say that.”

She turns her body into mine. We are already naked, so I’m practically chuckling at the ease of this new development. Sex hadn’t even crossed my mind. Wasn’t even in the top ten list of things I require this slave to provide me before I make my way home to check on my sick feeder.

I reach out and drag the back of my forefinger down her sweet cheek. “You are so lovely. But unfortunately, darling, I have pressing matters to attend to. Perhaps another time.”

The slave huffs out some kind of objection.

But the girl… the girl kisses me through the air and practically moans out the word, “Perhaps.”