Michele Hauf - The Vampire's Fall

She set the coffee mug on the wood bedside table that looked as though it had been carved from an oak stump. “Whatever kind you’re willing to offer.”

She didn’t want him to be crazy. She really did not.

Sliding closer on the bed, she raised her hand to touch his hair, then decided against it. “Fangs?”

“If that’s what you need? I can do that.”

Blade tilted his head back and closed his eyes. And when he rolled his head around, his nose drew along her cheek. Her skin tingled at the barely there touch. It seemed as if he was scenting her. And when the tip of his nose dusted her earlobe she felt her nipples tighten and couldn’t decide whether to delight or be afraid of that feeling. Curling her fingers, she closed her eyes as a mix of anxiety and breathless anticipation stirred in her core.

A sharpness slid along her neck. Zen gasped in a breath. What the—? Blade’s hand grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to look at him. His mouth was barely parted, yet bright white fangs jutted over his lower lip.

“Holy... How did you put those in so fast?”

“I didn’t put them in. They are my teeth.” A wide grin revealed his fangs rising to sit even with his upper teeth, and then again, they descended into the long, pointed, gleaming weapons. “You wanted proof.”

“But... That means...” He was telling the truth? That was incredible. Impossible. Freaky. Real? “Oh, mercy.”

Zen raced for the bathroom and closed the door behind her.

After a few seconds a rap sounded on the wood door. “Zen?”

“I’m good!” she called. “Just need a few minutes to process.”

Chapter 6

Zenia leaned forward onto the vanity, peering at her eyes reflected in the mirror. What she saw there was not fear but uncertainty.

“He’s a vampire. Those fangs were real.”

She hissed out a breath and her shoulders sank. The man was really a vampire. Because his teeth had not been fake. No cheesy white plastic dentures. He’d lowered and raised them as she had watched.

So here she stood. Processing. And to do so, had locked herself in the bathroom to put herself away from the creature on the other side of the flimsy wood door. Who could probably knock it down if he wanted to and suck out all her blood before she could manage to scream for help.

She shook her head. “Don’t let your imagination make this into something weird. Weird? Ha! The man is a vampire. Which means the mythology is real. And what makes me think all I know is real anyway?”

Of course, if vampires were real that also opened the door to other creepy critters being as real. Werewolves, ghosts and demons?

“He killed demons. There were real demons in that pink house. He was telling me the truth. And they’d mentioned me? What is going on?”

She’d fallen into some kind of creature feature. And while she should do the smart thing and run like hell, she couldn’t resist a peek down the dark stairway.

“He’s been nice to me so far,” she reasoned with her reflection. “I can trust him.” A nod confirmed her decision.

And so she turned the knob and walked out into the room. Blade leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. Head bowed, his hair was tinted blue, no denying that. Was that indicative of his vampire nature?

Wow. Just wow.

“Are you going to bite me?” she asked calmly.

He smirked and shook his head. “No.”

“Why don’t you want to bite me?”

Now he laughed. “In the course of two questions you went from curiosity to fang junkie.”

“Fang junkie?”

“Women and men who seek the vampire’s bite. It gives them an orgasmic high. Sort of a thank-you for giving blood.”

Zen blew out a breath. Shook her head. She’d asked for proof. And he’d given it to her in spades. The guy was a vampire. And the more she considered it, his fangs were actually kind of cool.

She walked up to him. “Let me see them again.”

With a shrug, he opened his mouth to reveal the fangs. She touched the tip of a fang and he flinched away.

“What’s wrong?”

“Women don’t generally touch,” he said defensively.

“I’m sorry. They are interesting to me. Don’t you ever poke yourself in the lip?”

He smirked, again revealing the gorgeous fangs. “I’ve been living with them awhile.”

“Since birth?”

“No, since my teen years. We vamps don’t come into the blood hunger until puberty. A vampire baby is just wrong.”

“I imagine so.” Frowning, Zen ran the idea of a fanged baby drinking blood from its mother’s nipple through her thoughts. Yeah, that was wrong in too many ways to consider. “Wow. So you are really a vampire.”

“And you are having a tough time with this.”

“No. Not anymore. I did some processing in the bathroom. Had a pep talk with my crazy ole self. So the myths are real? And you don’t seem a danger to me.”

“I have no reason to harm you, Zen. Believe me.”

“I am inclined to trust you. You’ve shown me nothing but kindness thus far. Will you tell me about being a vampire? That’ll help me to further process. You said you drink blood every few weeks? Is it a sexual thing?”

“You just ask whatever is on your mind, don’t you?”

“Are you offended by my questions? You should be pleased I’m not screaming and whittling a stake.”

“I am. Although the adrenaline that comes up when a person screams does season the blood nicely.” He paused. Gauging her reaction? Likely.

Zen didn’t feel disgust. She’d accepted that vampires existed. Now she needed to learn how and why.

“And so you know,” he added, “it would take a damn long time to whittle a stake. Use an ax to hone a point on a thick wood dowel. It will go faster.”

“Did you just tell me how to kill you?”

“I did. Feel better?”

“It’s not as though I need to feel better about your condition—”

“It’s not a condition. It is what I am.”

“Okay. I understand. Blood is your means to survival?”

“Yes. I like drinking blood and it is a sensual experience if I’m having sex with the person when I bite them. But I can take someone in a dark club or back alley without it turning me on. My bite leaves the victim in a state of bliss. As I’ve said, a reward for giving blood.”

“Do you ever, uh—” Zen ran her fingers along the plaid bedspread “—kill?”

His fangs retracted, and she missed them immediately. “When drinking blood? No.”

That he’d categorized that question bothered her. “So you have killed at other times? Of course, the demons yesterday.” She had no choice now but to believe they had been real.

He suddenly took her by the wrist and lifted her arm to hold her elbow toward the sunlight beaming through the window. “Those markings are faint but remarkable. Do you know what they mean?”

The man had deftly avoided the question about killing. She’d give him that. He had killed. Many times. She simply knew it. Perhaps he’d been protecting another damsel in distress from demons?

“I’m guessing it was something I drew on my skin before the accident,” she offered. “Should fade away with a few more showers.”

“Has it faded since you’ve noticed it?”

“No. I guess not.”

“It doesn’t look like ink or even one of those white tattoos that are so popular nowadays.”

“Demonic?” she tossed out teasingly. She regretted it immediately. Demons were serious and real. What kind of nightmare had she fallen into?

“I don’t know what it is,” Blade said. “One of my brothers is full faery. He has pale violet markings on his skin. But the patterns don’t look similar. Aren’t you curious?”

“I am, but it’s not as if I have any idea where to begin learning about such a thing. A faery brother? That’s fascinating. How does that work exactly?”