He shoves the cooler at me and the moment I have it, the door slams shut again. Huffing, I head back to my car and put the cooler on the passenger seat as I gun it out of there, driving back to the hotel. Now just to deal with an undoubtedly angry, hungry vamp. And to think I was complaining about how boring my life was. What I would do for a boring night with Raph, watching the shopping channel and eating spaghetti hoops with all the f’s taken out because he hated that letter.
I hear banging coming from the boot and I laugh, cranking the music higher and singing along to drown out his voice in my head as well. He soon gets the picture and goes quiet for the journey back. I pull into the empty car park just as dawn breaks. Grabbing the cooler, I drop it in the room I rented in the corner first before heading to the boot. Knocking on it politely, I let my voice carry to him.
“Now, I’m going to open this and you won’t attack me, or I’ll punch you in the cock and I’ll use the shovel again. There is food inside, understood?”
When no sounds come, I knock again. “Understood, fanger?”
Understood, love.
I open the boot and jump back in case he decides to attack anyway, but he just slowly clambers gracefully from the boot, tugging on his shirt and waistcoat to straighten it. He even frowns down at the wrinkles in his trousers before looking up at me. “Lead the way,” he drawls. I nod, moving around him and shutting the boot before locking the car as I guide him to my hotel room.
“What a dump. Are we really staying here?” he questions behind me, too close so I even feel his breath on my neck.
Turning quickly, I pin him to the wall, but I know I won’t be able to get away with this shit when he’s fully fed. “Listen here, asshole, I only need you to track. Not all of us are born rich and spend our days being waited on hand and foot. We are stopping here, and if I hear one compliant, I’ll knock you out again,” I warn, my eyes flashing even as I carefully press my leather-covered arm across his throat, preventing skin contact.
He raises his eyebrow, somehow still appearing like he’s in control even as I have him restrained. “Of course, love, apologies, I meant no disrespect.”
Stepping back, I leave him to follow me again. I can feel his eyes on my arse, but I ignore him as I kick open the shitty room door and let him in. He closes it behind him, and I can hear him silently judging the room and me. I look around quickly. It’s not bad for a cheap, no questions asked motel. It’s clean and doesn’t smell like sex, blood, or death, and even has a double bed and a nice shower. “Your food is in the cooler.”
I head over to the small fridge and counter in the corner and pour myself some vodka. I knock it back without looking at him as I hear him moving around and opening the cooler. “What, no live blood?” he teases, but I ignore him, and the next thing I feel is my hair moving and his lips almost touching my ear. “Don’t trust me, love?”
I turn, kicking him back with a foot on his chest as I arch my eyebrow at him. “Not even a little. You said you were thirsty, feed up, we’re leaving soon.” With that, I knock back the rest of the drink and head to the table under the window, sitting down and looking out of the partially curtained dirty glass. I hear him again and sigh, turning to watch him as he folds his waistcoat and presses it down onto the bed before sitting on top of it. I can’t help a snort that escapes my lips and he shoots me a clearly annoyed glare.
“You were buried in the ground, but you won’t sit on a bed?” I grin.
He raises his chin. “Problem, love? What can I say, I like the nicer things in life, but if you were to come over here and keep me company, I might even lie on the bed…between your thighs, that is.” He winks.
Ugh, what a sleaze ball.
He clearly hears me, because that fake smile falters for a moment before he turns it up. “You want to watch me eat, love?”
“What’s with the love thing? Have you watched too much TV? You think it’s cute?” I scoff.
“Women love it.” He shrugs and that makes me see red before I can rein it in. What the hell? Where did that anger come from? “Plus, you didn’t tell me your name,” he points out, oblivious to my inner turmoil.
“Isabella,” I tell him distractedly, frowning at the chaos of emotions pulling at my chest. Am I really jealous that he calls other women love? What the fuck?
“Beautiful name, it matches you,” he comments, opening the cooler.
“Do you ever say anything without an innuendo or flirting? You lay it on so thick I can almost smell it.” I grimace.
He glances at me, frowning now. “People love my charm, it is not my fault you seem to be the odd one here.”
“Or maybe they just pretend to,” I joke, but when I see him flinch, I frown again. He busies himself in the cooler, and when he looks back up he’s grinning once more, that charm winding around him…like a defence mechanism.
He grabs a bag of blood, and I find myself weirdly entranced as he gently tears a hole in the corner and slowly drinks it. No slurping or tossing it back for this guy, he drinks it like it’s champagne. I watch, open-mouthed, as he drinks five out of the ten bags before I rush across the room and shut the lid. “I get it, you’re thirsty, but maybe don’t drink all your food, huh?”
Pointing from my eyes to his, I move the cooler away and he frowns, dabbing at his lips like there might still be blood there. “I am afraid, love, that isn’t sufficient. I need live blood if you want me to hunt down your rogue man.”
Motherfucking cherub ass. Can I hit him with my shovel again?
“No, you can’t,” he growls, wagging his finger at me. “I need live blood. I can go and hunt some down and be right back.”
“Uh, and when you don’t return? I’m not a fool, we stick together until you hold up your end of the deal.”
“Then you are going to have to let me feed on you,” he reasons, grinning, and I notice his fangs hanging over his bottom lip. I don’t know how he manages that and can look smug at the same time. We stare at each other before I jump to my feet. I can almost hear him gloating, but when I slide past him his confusion fills the air.
Grabbing a cup, I step over to him and pull my knife from my boot. I quickly slash open my wrist and let the blood trickle into the clear container. His nostrils flare, his fangs elongate, and his eyes shine brightly. I watch him grip the duvet in his hands and wonder if I’m going to have to fight him off. I pass over the cup and hold my hand against the wound, feeling it heal beneath my grip, and step back.
He grabs it and there are no delicate, formal swallows this time. He throws it back, licking the cup to catch every drop before looking at me. He seems to remember himself and sits up ramrod straight. “I am sorry for that display, love, I am never usually like that. It must have been my hunger and, well, I have never smelled blood like yours before. It was delicious, so full of power,” he whispers, shaking his head again.
I had heard our blood was almost addictive to vamps, good job he won’t get any more from me. “It’s cool, I actually prefer that side. You didn’t try and hide who you were behind fake smiles and flirting, it was refreshing,” I reply casually, wiping the blood from my arm before pulling down my sleeve again to see him watching me.