Page 15 of Vacation with the Vampire
The bag, it really didn’t sit right with me, that bag. It was slashed with purpose; fury, by claws, not human hands. This wasn’t theft for value, as all of her belongings remained. This was targeted and very much deliberate. What had they expected to find?
Susie did not strike me as someone who trafficked in secrets or contraband. She was many things, but subtle in that manner was not among them. Let alone capable of that sort of subterfuge, she seemed far too honest. Which meant someone believed she carried something, or had carried it, but without her knowledge.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. I shifted guiltily on my feet, even though I knew she couldn’t possibly know I’d fed. I’d never felt shame for the need before, but oddly enough, Susie’s opinion on it mattered.
She stepped inside, a large bag clutched in one hand. At the sight of her, everything else fell away. The light had shifted while she was gone, the early evening sun filtering through the window in soft gold. It caught in her hair, warmed her skin, and softened the tension in her features just enough to make her look radiant.
There was color in her cheeks now, her earlier pallor replaced by something more alive. Her movements were quicker, restless, with a slight edge to them that spoke of agitation. Perhapsshewas the one hungry now, but I sensed immediately that it was more than that. Regardless, she was beautiful. The word settled with quiet certainty. Mine—my mate, my Susie—beautiful beyond compare.
She shut the door behind her and leaned against it for half a second, exhaling. My senses sharpened, honed in on her, and on the distress that slowly began to filter through to me. Her heart was beating too fast inside her chest. “What has unsettled you?” I asked immediately.
Her head snapped up, her mouth half-open in surprise. “What? Nothing.” She immediately denied her anxiety, but I saw the way her hand fluttered at her throat, above the edge of her camisole and the enticing curves of her décolletage.
I raised a brow and crossed my arms slowly over my chest. It was obvious something had rattled her, and in response, the fine hairs on the back of my neck lifted. Protective instincts soared to the forefront and demanded answers, but I knew how to keep a lid on those and handle this with tact, at least, I hoped so.
She hesitated, then sighed, and pushed off the doorframe to step closer to me. Her large, crinkly, shiny bag hung from one hand, but was clearly forgotten. “Okay, maybe there was something. I just have a hard time believing it.” She gestured vaguely, but I suspected that was just an expression of her anxiety. “I think someone was following me.”
My posture stilled and my senses flared. “Think?” I demanded as I inhaled deeply and began filtering through the many layers of scent that clung to her. Whoever it was, I could not differentiate their scent from the likely more innocuous scents of passersby and shop attendants. There was no obvious wolf scent, so if ithadbeen the werewolf who had come in here and slashed her bag, he had kept his distance.
“I don’t know,” she said quickly, dismissing her own observations. Yet she leaned in closer, as if seeking comfort from my nearness; that should not have made me feel satisfied, but it did.
“It could be nothing,” she continued. “I mean, after today? I’m probably just paranoid, right? I’ve got vampires and gargoyles and...” She flapped her hands at me, at the room, “...all of this. So yeah. Could just be my brain freaking out.” Her eyes shifted around the room in confusion, probably only now noticing that I’d sorted out the disarray.
“No,” I said, absolutely certain that she hadn’t imagined anything. Whoever had sent the werewolf to search her room was not satisfied; they hadn’t yet found what they were after, and they still believed she had it.
Her eyes were huge as she focused them on my face, pale blue beneath a cap of glowing gold lit by the evening sun. I reached out and carefully cupped her cheek. “You are not leaving this room again without me, understood?” The thought of not being able to help her was infuriating, and I was not going to let it happen with the threat so immediate.
She opened her mouth, and I knew she wanted to object, except she didn’t. Her lips pressed back together into a thin line, eyes sparkling, then she promptly shoved the bag into my hands. “Here. Clothes.” I looked down at the bag, wincing at the odd feel of its smooth but crinkly handles.
Opening it slowly, I peered inside in confusion. She said clothes, but the bag was neither big enough nor did it contain enough to make a proper outfit. “What is this?” I asked, reaching in and fingering the strange white, stretchy fabric that lay on top.
“Clothes,” she repeated. “Modern ones. You’re welcome.” She sounded tired as she turned away and sat down on the edge of the newly made bed. That made me want to keep from making a fuss, but as I pulled them out of the strange bag one by one, I couldn’t help but feel slightly horrified.
There was a pair of trousers beneath the white shirt. They were like hers, made of that dark blue fabric. They were stiff, inelegant, and, to my horror, already had wear on the knee area and back pockets. “These are crude,” I said, my lips curled in distaste.
“They’re jeans,” she shot back, not tired this time but with laughter in her tone. I liked that, but I definitely did not like the trousers. Her eyes sparkled at me as if she enjoyed my distaste, liked it when I had to deal with unpleasantness. Horrible woman.
I held it out by the belt loop, letting it dangle in the air between us. “They are unacceptable,” I said. She snorted, rolling her eyes. I could not imagine pulling these on; they’d feel rough against my skin. They looked like the pants workers wore—tough, durable—though clearly they were not, because they were already damaged.
“You’ll live,” she said, with absolutely zero empathy. So the sass was back; that was good. It put more pink in her cheeks. I pulled out the shirt next, that folded bit of soft white fabric with no texture. As I thought, it was plain and pure white, though granted, such a shade of white was desirable. The shirt was entirely lacking in structure, however, and it looked like it couldn’t possibly be the right size.
“A T-shirt,” she offered, not so helpfully. I gave her a stare that, hopefully, conveyed it all. I’d never heard of such a term, and it was as nonsensical as the garment itself. She waved a hand at it. “Just put it on. You’ll figure it out.”
My gaze dropped once more to the bag, and I dug out the last items inside it. “And these?” I was almost afraid to ask. She grinned, and my stomach twisted with suspicion.
“Boxers, you know—undergarments?” she said, her hand waving casually toward my groin, not at all abashed to do so, or even to mention such a private garment. Clearly, many things had changed with the passing of time.
I stared at the small, folded garment. Then at her. “Absolutely not.” This was not at all appropriate, though granted, the fabric of these “boxers” did feel appealingly soft. It would protect more… sensitive skin against the roughness of those abysmal jeans. She gave me a long look, her mouth pursed, and her cheeks crinkled as if she were fighting a smile.
I exhaled slowly. “Very well.” The things I endured, but I supposed I had to see this as part of the new future, the new adventure I’d been after. If there was one thing I had to admit, it was that boredom had been out of the question from the moment I’d met her.
I retreated to the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror for a moment. Then, with as much dignity as the situation allowed, I began undressing. The truth was, my favorite suit had been ruined over the past two centuries of sleep. It was so dusty it stank, and the fabric was fragile. It was a wonder it hadn’t fallen from my body yet and caused some terribly indecent exposure.
Once my old clothes had been shed, I still felt dirty. There were incredibly soft towels on the counter, and a bathtub with shiny silver faucets. I marveled over that as I turned the knobs with careful hands. It wasn’t simply water that rushed out; I soon discovered it could run hot, too. A miracle. The future. My heart pounded, this time with excitement at the discovery.
As much as I wanted to linger in that bath, there were more pressing things that forced me to rush the moment. I fumbled awkwardly with the strange soap containers, but soon enough I’d mastered the bathtub and the running water. I dried myself with towels so soft they were miracles on their own, then finally, awkwardly, dressed in the odd garments Susie had brought me.
There were tags of shiny paper still attached, with prices on them that made my eyes water in shock. Either these garments were worth far more than they looked, or inflation over the years had made prices absolutely bizarre. I was banking on the latter, simply because that’s how things had always gone.
