He was wearing a black long-sleeved Henley and distressed-looking button fly dark jeans with black boots. The shirt was skin tight, his muscles were defined but not bulky. His jeans fit just right, too. He was a tall drink of water, as they say.
Yeah, a tall drink of water with fangs. Did he drug me? Why is my mind even thinking about the way he looks?
He clicked the door shut and walked, slowly, toward her, predator-like, “This is a very interesting quandary we have here, little firecracker. I don’t know why you’re so lucid. You see, because of what I am…” He paused and gave her a slow and sexy smile, “and you now know what I am,” he was at the edge of the bed when he flashed his fangs and then they quickly receded. Kyla’s eyes widened and she wanted to gulp but couldn’t. He was making a point of letting her know that what she’d seen before wasn’t her mind playing tricks on her, “This isn’t how this usually goes but it’s sort of… refreshing.” He smiled a big smile at her. It struck her as oozing with arrogance.
“I think…” he continued and stroked his chin thoughtfully, “I think that the wise thing here would be for me to stick to plan A. Then, after that, let’s see what happens, shall we?” he put a knee to the bed and climbed up the bottom and sat down beside her.
“Plan A? What’s that?” she asked, thinking he was sitting too close, way too close.
“The reason you were brought to me.”
“And that is?”
“So I can fuck you,” he said, stone serious, “and drink some of your blood.”
And with that statement, it was as if bottom dropped out from under her.
The way he said those words to her dripped with sex. On a normal day, at the very least, someone with that much gumption would’ve gotten some flirting before she knocked him back, knowing that he was only after one thing. It had been a long time since anyone warranted getting her number let alone into her pants and this guy was way out of her league, shit, out of most womens’ league. But he clearly knew that. And that’s why she’d probably have flirted back and then a snarky retort would’ve ended it before anything ever began. Nope, Mr. Sexy Arrogant Vampire would not, even if he weren’t a vamp, be the one to chase away Kyla’s cobwebs.
She hated games and had no time for players. She loved putting players in their place, actually. As a bartender with a rough upbringing and plenty of street smarts Kyla was often underestimated. She looked totally feminine but when she opened her mouth she could, as her roommate’s mom had said, make a sailor blush. She was usually the queen of comebacks.
Getting knocked over the head (or whatever had happened), dragged off to a vampire’s lair, or whatever this was, and then being told that she was going to get fucked and have her blood drank? Not on her agenda for this evening. She had to find a way to get the heck outta here.
Her brain felt so discombobulated right now. What a turn this night had taken --- proof that things could change in a New York minute. The evening had started out and ended like any normal work night. She had just finished her shift bartending and would’ve gone back to her dumpy little shared apartment where she’d have made a Nutella and banana sandwich or maybe some Ramen noodle soup or a grilled cheese and then fast forwarded through commercials to watch her DVR’d soap opera….a soap opera that drove her nuts but that she couldn’t seem to stop watching because she was ‘invested’.
Eventually she’d have passed out for 4, maybe 5 hours, woken up, gone for a run and then started her 11-5 shift at the diner. After the diner she’d try to grab a cat nap and then head back to the bar to work from 10 to 3:30. Working two jobs in an effort to save up enough to go back to school was challenging and most days Kyla ran around between the jobs with very little time for a social life, or more than a few hours of sleep.
Kyla Spencer’s life hadn’t been easy so far. She had been orphaned at almost 4 years old, had very few memories of her parents, and was put in foster care where she stayed until the ripe old age of 18 when she’d been turfed out like a baby bird to fly on her own but without many tools for success.
No one she’d encountered in the world of social services seemed to even care if she sank or swam. It’d been touch and go there for a while. Now in her mid-20’s she was on the verge of beating the odds and not ending up a statistic, a product of “the system”. Until today --- today, when she’d been snatched from the alley behind her work and met her first vampire. Wow.