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He was on his feet and stuck the weapon in the back of his jeans before putting the leather jacket on. With a fast move, my blood-covered right hand was in his large hands, and he leaned closer, all the time holding my gaze with his damned green eyes. His full, superb, pouty lips touched my blood-covered knuckles. I felt a storm raging inside me, through me.
“I love it when you say my name, Yana. Do it again.”
The glint of mischief in his eyes had me losing my mind.
“The fuck, what are you? A vampire? A demon. Some sort of super soldier?”
“Twilightruined an entire generation.” He sighed.
Before I could say anything, he was gone.
What?
My kitchen was empty. If not for all the blood on my hands and the floor, I would have been sure it was only a dream.
Lightning lit the world on fire, and I saw him. He was outside, jumping on the back of a motorcycle and driving into the storm.
My heart beat like crazy. I still held his knife in my left hand. Raising it to eye level, I couldn’t make out the intricate carving that decorated the handle. This knife was a work of art, that much was sure.
Like this man.
Turning on the faucet and putting a healthy dollop of dish soap on my hands, I started to scrub them clean of his blood, trying to get as much off as possible.
Spike walked around, cautiously sniffing the blood.
“You’ll get bloody paws.”
What was my Granny involved with? How could his flesh heal that fast? I had so many questions, but all I knew was that my linoleum was ruined and I’ll need to replace it. I would have never believed that thinking about my bank account would keep me sane since it was the source of frustration most of the time.
It sucks to be broke.
Even so, I couldn’t leave the blood there and make my kitchen look like a butcher shop or a murder scene. A bucket was under the sink. I filled it with water, Clorox, and dish soap before dipping the mop in it. It was essential to mop this mess up before morning.
The clock in the kitchen showed that it was 2 AM.
“Great,” I mumbled as I scrubbed the blood off the floor and changed a few buckets of water before my kitchen stopped looking like the set of Carrie. I was not satisfied until the floor looked less like a slaughterhouse.
3
YANA
After cleaning the kitchen, I walked into the small hallway, stripped down to my underwear, dropped the blood-stained clothes and blanket into the washing machine, and turned it on. My hair was a mess.
I still couldn’t understand what just happened.
Who was Soren? What was he? In almost twenty years of working as a nurse, I have never seen anyone heal that way. One minute he was on the brink of death, and the next, he was okay.
His ragged and blood-stained shirt was inside a plastic bag. I planned to throw it away on my way to work, along with the silver bullets.
Who uses silver bullets?
Half-naked, I made my way upstairs and into the shower. My mind circled, trying to find plausible explanations for what I just witnessed. This was impossible, all of it.
The boiler was on, so I splurged with a long shower. The hot water helped calm my aching muscles.
My mind refused to slow down as I lay in bed. Spike jumped up next to me, cuddling on his usual spot on the pillow to my right.
“I should trade you for a dog. A dog would have protected me from Soren,” I joked as he rubbed himself against me, purring.
