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“How much do you have?”
“Fifty.”
“That’s a lot of blow jobs.”
“Yeah. It’s fine. I’m pretty good at it.”
“Tell you what. Close your eyes and be very quiet. Do as I say and you will get your two hundred dollars.”
Nate’s breathing quickens and the faint scent of his sweat fills the car. “Are you gonna hurt me?”
“No. You’re far safer in here than out there.”
Nate nods. “Okay.” With a slow exhale, he leans back and closes his eyes.
Who knew I’d get a meal and be able to do a good deed tonight? With my hand, I tilt his head back. He stiffens under my touch.
“Relax, Nate. I won’t hurt you.”
He nods, blowing out another breath. I grab one of the wet wipes I keep on the console. Just because I can’t contract human diseases anymore, doesn’t mean I want to drink from a dirty glass.
I wipe his neck, blowing gently to dry it. Then, with a smile, I let my fangs out, marveling at the feeling. All day they throb for release, and when it finally comes, it’s the best.
Gripping Nate’s neck, I sink my teeth into his flesh, savoring that first burst of warm, thick liquid on my tongue. I can taste his youth, his desperation, his addiction. All of it pours out of him, along with flashes of memory.
I’ve had to get used to this. Tasting a person’s blood opens their minds to me for a few minutes. Nate is scared, running from an abusive parent, in trouble with people who feed his addiction, selling his services for survival. Hopefully this will be the last time.
I drink just enough then force myself back, licking his wounds to close them. He hasn’t made a noise the entire time, but when I meet his eyes, he looks terrified.
“Are you a… um…”
“Shh, Nate.” He’s too sober. Compulsion time. “I’m going to give you some money.”
He nods, compliant now under my influence.
“You’re going to pay who you owe and then go to the local hotel and get a safe room for the night. Expect to see me again. I’d like to help you, but only if you’re ready to work and get off the drugs.”
He nods, but I sense his confusion. “Why would you help me?”
“Why wouldn’t I? You’ve done nothing wrong. You’re a victim of a bully. And I hate bullies.”
“Me too,” he whispers.
“What is your father’s name?”
“Stepfather. His name is Dan Reynolds.”
“Perfect. Now, what will you do next?”
“Pay the dealer and go to the hotel.”
“Right.” I cup his chin. “I’m glad I met you.”
“Me too.”
Reaching into the back seat, I pull out a satchel and grab a handful of cash to give to Nate. “Guard your money and stay safe.”
Nate looks down at it, then back up at me with tears in his eyes. “Are you sure?”
