Daylight - Book 1 (No Death for the Wicked) (9 page)

“I'll show you how to use these,” he stands and slides his fingers inside my mouth, rubbing one fingertip under the tip of my fang
before he continues, “in the most pleasuring ways.” 

“Ah...Oh-okay...” I sputter out
. This is really hard to explain while he makes me want him. I attempt once more to sound like I have my shit together. 

“I, ahem... I... have this one vague broken memory that I've never told anyone before, it's kinda corny...” Oh hell, saying
corny
makes me think of being fucking horny. I really need to spit this little tidbit of info out quickly. Dammit.

“I remember being trapped, trapped inside something and I wasn't even sure I could take another breath it was so unforgettably painful. But then suddenly out of no where... I felt... protected.
Safe and shielded by this light as a distorted vision of someone emerged and soothed all the pain away. Everything inside me felt weightless and free like I could soar off into the sky. And then it all faded into darkness. I only felt that way when I walked in the daylight. And now, when I'm with you.”

Graham kneels down to the floor and reaches out to tuck a tress of hair behind my ear as he says, “Mattie, you are my light.” He weaves his fingers through mine and pulls us up to stand, dropping my arms easily around his neck. Our lips meet and I surrender under his commanding mouth, chasing, teasing, each other till I nip menacingly at his bottom lip. I feel him smile against my lips.  

He begins to fade. It's the only way I know how to describe what is happening as his physical form diminishes right before my eyes. At first, I lose his hold, his touch, and then the natural scent of him... everything vanishes expect the deep masculine tone of his voice as if he's whispering in my ear... “I will return, Mattie.
Wait for me...”
and he's gone. My limp arms fall to my sides, the room is cold, dark, and lonely now that he has gone. I flash over, sitting in the chair he was in just a few seconds ago, and cradle my bare knees up to my chin. It is a useless lame attempt to shake off this bitter feeling that is creeping into me. I somberly whisper back to the lonesome room, “Later Reaper." 

Chapter Eight

Midnight Run

I zip up the frayed black pants and button the ashen v-neck cardigan. I'm not aspiring to be the next trend setter for a vampire fashion show, but I have to say the killer bondgirl boots will stir a few healthy looks. The interior of the apartment is mostly black with a few monochrome paintings hang in the living area. The walls are lined with a thin series of white square plates which give out a soft light through the rooms and down the hallway. As I walk by brushing out my tangled mess of hair I read the same authentic artist's name scribbled on each painting.

I scrunch my lip up and cock my head to the side
. I can't really make out what I'm looking at. At first it's nothing more than a bunch of blotched, sloppy symbolization of some kind. But then as I keep staring I start to see a slender nude redheaded woman who seems to be leaning over a man. Is she biting the man's neck or is he plunging his obscured face in her bosoms? I still can't tell, but it does trigger my stomach to rumble and my mouth to water.

Plodding my way toward the kitchen my gums sympathize with my stomach, the thirst for blood deflates my plans of occupying myself. I purchase the handle to the refrigerator
, as pretentious as it looks. I'm hoping there's something useful for me inside. A bag of blood would suffice. But instead it's empty. I fling the door shut and hiss at it. “What the hell am I going to do now?”

I don't know what I was thinking, or what I was expecting really. I've snooped through everything here, and it's obvious that no one really liv
es here, vamp or human. Just furnishings taking up space. I clamp a hold over my temples warding off an on-coming splitting headache. Forty-eight hours, twenty-one minutes, and six seconds it has been since I've fed. The bed ripping sex with Graham has drained me and I'm starving. I peep out of the swart curtains and take a long look at the city. Wondering how long it will be before he comes back, I crave him, but I'm more hungry than horny now.

I make one last raid through the apartment and stand in front of the door. I know they are out there, the Voynich, and they would love to have my head on a platter. But with any stroke of luck, I can step out, find what I need and be back in record time. This is a big city and Graham hid me well but I have to feed, I really have no choice. I walk into a gloomy unlit hallway
. I don't like being wanted like a criminal. It pisses me off. But if I'm trying to hope for something good out of this, then I hope they put up a wanted poster that catches my good side.

I knock on a door halfway down the hall, glancing over my shoulders scouting the narrow mat gray entrance hall. No one answers. I make the decision to book it down the stairs then take a chance with the elevator. I push myself to be quiet and quick as possible. Finding the exit, I spin around in a parking lot which is partially submerged with cars.
Where the hell is everyone? A girl needs her fast food and it looks like I might be shit out of luck tonight.

I pound the pavement with my bond boots
. Hitting the second block I spot a cluster of people. They have just turned the corner heading in my direction. The smell of their buzzed, tipsy condition will not even make this a challenge. I target the guy bringing up the rear of the crowd. I keep my head down, my hair awning my face from view. Slipping my hands in my pockets I parade right through the group, they're too busy heckling each other to notice as I slip by them. With purpose I pretend to accidentally bump the guy in the back. Startled he yanks the bottle from his lips and says, “Hey, ah... Sorry.”

As he pauses eying me
, I tell him, “Follow me.” Glamour has yet to ever fail me. He doesn't bat a lash as he lowers the bottle and falls in sync with my footsteps. I lead him to the first lightless alleyway. I press my back up against the concrete wall and motion for him to come to me, as if he's zombified his hand absently tilts the bottle and the liquor pours down to the ground. He drops the empty pint, shattering the glass. I coast my hands along his chest, up to his neck and lock them tightly through his short auburn hair. I start salivating as my jaw tightens and burns for the taste. I tug him closer and his hands grasp acutely around my hips. He grumbles, breathing heavily, his tongue licks the side of my ear, “God, you smell good.”

“That's nice, now shut the fuck up,” I demand forcing his head to the side and split the soft pliable skin with my fangs. The second his blood coats my tastes buds I clutch his throat tighter, the vein rises and pulsates with each deep pull I take. As he crushes himself against me while I minster a careful watch for any strollers, anyone who might wander close. It's pitch-dark, but I'm fairly sure with all his commotion it might cause someone to be curious and veer off down this way.

Moans echo out into the reclusive dead-end alleyway like he's praying for some type of redemption, louder and more annoying. It takes everything I have not to impale him to the wall and tell him to zip it. He's on the brink of the climax phase, I can feel his muscles tense from his thighs, hips, hands, and the spasms begin. His breathing shudders, his heart bangs wildly like a crazed animal inside his chest and the inevitable happens. He's relieved with his jeans soaked and I'm satiated. We can go on doing whatever we were doing before, and I slowly withdraw my fangs. Dragging my tongue along the puncture marks to seal up the bloody gashes.

His
hand curls and seizes my hair as his mouth smushes and pecks his slobbery lips along my face and down my neck. I wrench his head back and look into his moonstruck eyes. “Enough already...
you little fucker.
”

“But baby,
that was incredible, and I still have my damn clothes on. How did you do that? And can you do it again?”

“Look at me and listen to me
very
... carefully. Go find your friends and play with them, got it?” I shove him back toward the street.

He turns and says, “I'll never forget you.”

“The fuck you won't!” I shout back and watch Mr. Quickie stumble off into the surprisingly busy street-lit night. I jerk roughly at the hem of my shirt and brush my hands against my pants. While I'm counting to ten, giving him some time and distance before I head back to the apartment, I glance up at the flushed moon hovering overhead. It's just a slight shadow of an image, but I catch the movement along the edge of the building's roof.
What the hell was that?

Whatever or
whoever
that was, I should say is precariously hunched over, balancing on a fixed beam watching me. Every hair on my neck stands on end. It's definitely a male. The outline supports extremely broad shoulders. I take one guarded, deliberate step back and flash to the street corner. Swallowing down the rock of Gibraltar size lump in my tightly constricting throat, I coach myself to place one foot in front of the other as I leg it back to Graham's hideaway. More people are out, some are huddled in with groups, roaring with laughter, others I pass are couples joined hand in hand and could give a shit less if I were to run smack dab into them. And as I dodge the strangers I randomly peer up at a few, their faces are pale. They resemble more of a marooned expression, like their souls have been literally sucked from them.

Cars drive by but at a snail's pace, which makes every second I trek this damnable sidewalk more hair-raising. I jog across the street to the next block and resume my steadfast pace. I slip my hands inside my pockets when I hear
the shrill barking from a miniature mutt, viciously tugging on its leash trying to get to me. The owner is a short curvy woman with bouncy blonde ringlets coiling around her face as she frowns at me. She strains with all her might attempting to hold off her hairless tiny tyrant that is still baring teeth and with a bazaar seizure type wiggle it lunges again and again in my direction. It snaps a couple of times and just about sinks its spiky little teeth into my leg. Every instinct in me wants to drop-kick that fuckin' dog down the block. I amble around the mangy mutt, wondering why the hell there are dogs in Solace. Everyone knows with some sense that flea bags are man's best friend but definitely not a vamp. Their ability to smelling us is about as strong as ours is in smelling blood. I grip the streetlight as I pivot and diverge around the pesky pet. Something catches my attention, out of the corner of my eye, and I mindfully glimpse back. Varen stands directly across the street. He's all in black, and wearing that same contorted sly smile.

Our eyes greet the other with apprehensiveness, but why would he be so upt
ight? The fanatic pooch keeps up his ranting, barking, and yanking at its gold linked leash but in Varen’s direction. Maybe the Elites smell worse than I do. I grin inwardly and return to my path, another vamp walks around the corner at the end of the block. He's built like a brick shit house, all lean, mean, and perfectly blocking my way. The more I start to take full inventory of the scenery I locate four more vamps. They all look like clones of Mr. Muscley.
Well shit
, that's why Varen had that kind of expression, he's waiting to see what I'll do.

Well the way I see it I have Option A: Throw in the towel, wave the notable white flag and call it a night
or
go with Option B: Run like a blonde in a horror movie. I go with Option B. I'm not the
giving in
type of girl. Adjacent to the next building is another back street, the undigested lights from the outer streets are shadowy but it's not a problem for me. I push my pace, glaring a look now and again over my shoulder. I'm being followed. Their footfalls match mine in a marching rap against the bland concrete. Enclosed in this small dank alleyway I’m quickly rushed with relief, I see a zigzagged steel grating fire escape to my right. Designed for emergencies and I'm in luck because the situation I'm in calls for an emergency exit out of this unpromising dead-end street. With all of my strength I jump up and grapple the lowest ladder rung. It swings down and slides open on its track with a smooth clank. Once my left foot settles and is stabilize on the ladder, I flash myself up to the next platform. I count the number of horizontal platforms that I reach until I'm at the floor where Graham hid me.

Lucky
must be my middle name today, I'm assuming this because I lift the hefty wooden window frame with ease. No alarms make a ruckus or announce me accessing the fire escape. Within moments I'm back, safe and inside the apartment he somehow channeled us to. I sprint through each room, the living room, the bedroom, and the kitchen. I'm beyond freaked out right now, the Voynich are hot on my trail. My skin prickles as my instincts warn me of the danger chasing me. I rip the vinyl shower curtain back, staring at the emptiness. I have no idea why I'm even searching in here. Graham isn’t here. Pissed off, I fist the faultless vinyl and wrench it down. I release it, watching as it flutters silently to the floor.

The thunderous banging on the fr
ont door of the expansive apartment snaps my head up. The pounding continues on a few more times, but then Varen’s voice blusters out, “We know you're in there Miss Kinsley.” I swallow and take a step toward the bathroom door. My hands brace either side of the doorjamb as I wait for his next words.  “Miss Kinsley there is no where to go and no need for excessive actions, open the door so that we may discuss the situation civilly.”

“
Civilly
, are you fucking kidding me, you're not fucking civil. How does civil fit in with sautéing me in a room full of sunshine?”

“Miss Kinsley, Mr. Krew has rules, and the first one is that we conduct our business in private. Open the door so we can get this
state of affairs
resolved.”

“Okay, I think you're right Varen. Everyone should have rules to follow... I mean, where would the world be without rules...it would be anarchy I tell you, anarchy!” As I'm spewing out my meaningless ramblings I'm sneaking out of the window, thanking myself for being overly curious. When I poked and prodded around this place earlier I had discovered another set of fire escapes.
They crash through the door as I'm learning all the intricate details of the architecture put into the outside of this building. Racing up to the rooftop was not my first game plan, but I consider that as cardinal as these vamps are it wouldn't surprise me if they had a horde of vampires waiting for me down below.     

I'm twenty stories up, standing on the threadlike railing
, looking up to the roofs ledge that is still about ten foot out of reach. I leap upward grasping a slate-stone winged gargoyle by the neck and lunge myself up and over the edge of the roof. Voices elevate louder behind me and the teeming of feet collide on the metal fire escape. It drowns out any hearty night sounds close by. I stand as the ill omen winds blow past my callous face. I suck in a breath and lengthen my fangs. My muscles are wound as tight as the knot in my stomach which tells me what I'm up against. I peer over the ledge and see them infiltrate one platform after another. They soar upward with grace and skill that any ambitious vamp should show. I scoff at Varen when he pins me with despisement. We both share a moment of wordless warnings to each other. His cold, snub eyes narrow and I return the love.

On a dime
, I bolt across the roof, jumping from one roof to the other. Leaps and bounds. I'm actually running on a high, the liberating air cuts through me as I stretch out my arms and legs striving for the next roof. Since I have just fed, my new zest on life has me ready and willing to keep this up for the remainder of the night. I can do this until he finds me, I don't know what's holding him back but I know he'll come. I hunker down behind a massive cooling unit and wait.