Page 75 of Bleed

“Hey,” I greet, hitching my towel a little higher against my chest. “Look who’s still alive.”

Albert rolls his eyes, but a reluctant smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“You don’t look any worse for the wear,” I say, giving him a once-over. He’s clean-cut and freshly shaven, dressed like a preppy nightmare in his usual polo and pressed slacks without a single blond hair out of place. “Nobody would guess you were almost murdered the other night.”

“Nah, that’s just how vampires show affection,” he replies smugly, inclining his chin.

A laugh escapes before I can stop it.

“So what happened, then?” I ask, padding barefoot across the room to the dresser. “You two kiss and make up?”

“We worked it out,” he answers cryptically.

I glance back at him over my shoulder, arching a brow expectantly.

He shrugs. “Then I left.”

“Boring,” I snort, untucking my towel and letting it drop to the floor.

Albert makes a strangled sound from behind me, and I glance back to find him staring at the ceiling like it’s suddenly the most fascinating thing in the room.

My lips curl into a smirk.

Turning to face him fully, I plant a hand on my hip and strike a pose. “You like what you see?” I ask, wagging my brows.

His gaze flicks over me once, lingering for all of half a second before he bites back a smile. “You’re hot and all,” he admits, “but you’re missing a crucial appendage for my taste.”

I click my tongue.

Knew it.

“So why are you in here creeping on me, then?” I ask, folding my arms with an exaggerated huff. “Want another bite?”

He cuts me a glare.

Probably too soon.

“Brought your dress for the award dinner tonight,” Albert says with a sigh, lifting a black garment bag into view.

My eyes narrow suspiciously as they flick from the bag to his face. “Am I gonna hate it?”

He waves it back and forth tauntingly. “See for yourself.”

I cross the room to him, still completely naked and not the least bit ashamed about it. Plucking the garment bag from his hand, I carry it over to the bed and drape it across the duvet, dragging down the zipper to see what’s inside.

My breath catches as I carefully lift the dress free from the bag, because it’s stunning.

Black, with shimmering iridescent embroidery cascading across it like blooming dahlias. The flowers shift between shades of violet and blue against the dark fabric when they catch the light. Delicate straps crisscross over the open back, while a dramatic slit climbs all the way up the left hip– perfect to frame the ink winding down my thigh.

Actually, now that I think about it, the whole dress looks like it was designed with my tattoos in mind.

I glance up at Albert. “Did you pick this out?”

He shakes his head.

“Then who did?”

“Don’t know,” he mumbles, eyeing the gown. “I was just told to pick it up and bring it over.”