Chapter 8 Dead Dove

• Helaine
• “Evan,” I whimpered against his lips, but he only kissed me again, holding me tight against him.
• His teeth scraped across my bottom lip, and I could feel his fangs, darkly sensual as he bit me ever so gently, careful not to draw blood.
• Not yet.
• Once the blood was flowing, it would become an exercise of restraint for Evan, and we both knew that wouldn’t be wise in public. Some how, that lurking danger only made it all the sweeter.
• I loved it. My whole body—my whole being cried out for more.
• But I couldn’t shake the lingering fear that someone would see us, as out in the open as we were.
• What would my friends think?
• Del and Roman didn’t seem too fazed by the way Evan put his arm around me back under the bridge, but there’s a pretty big difference between some harmless flirting and the naked truth that he’s paying me for sex.
• More than sex, he was an undead creature paying to drink my blood.
• I wanted to relax and enjoy the emotional foreplay of the long walk back to his apartment, but I just couldn’t get out of my own head.
• Evan may not have cared if people mistook us for a couple, let alone really even see it as a mistake, but the last thing I needed was for some well-meaning, nosy, loudmouth to go calling him my boyfriend.
• God forbid the news got back to my dad.
• It was frustrating how nervous my father’s opinion made me—I would have thought that by twenty six years old I’d have grown up and started pretending he was dead by now, like a normal well adjusted trauma victim, but as much as I dreaded his name showing up on the caller ID, and I hated making my annual holiday visits, something kept me going back.
• After all, my dad was the only family I had.
• It’d been just me and him for so long, until I packed my bags and left at eighteen. In the years that followed, I was never alone—Crashing on friends’ couches, living in the shelter . . . but I never felt seen.
• It always felt as though there was a layer of cotton between me any anyone I talked to, just a thin sheet, but thick enough that nothing ever felt real.
• Maybe that’s why Evan made me so uncomfortable.
• He was real.
• “What’s bothering you?” Evan asked, pulling me out of my innermost thoughts with the gentle touch of his fingers as he pushed my hair out of my eyes.
• “I . . . I was just zoning out,” I lied, and the look on his face told me that he absolutely wasn’t buying it.
• “Helaine . . . ”
• “It’s nothing,” I insisted, looking away from him and walking ahead. “Really.”
• “You are aware that I can literally smell your blood pumping,” he scoffed at me, raising an incredulous brow. “I know that something agitated you.”
• “Ew,” I cringed, recoiling at the terrible mental image his words conjured up—I could see myself lying on the surgical table with Evan standing above me in scrubs, taking a big whiff of my exposed heart. “Stop being a creepy weirdo and mind your own business.”
• I should have expected him to laugh.
• “Alright, you win. I won’t pry.” He grinned ear to ear as he continued to chuckle at my expense. “Not like I really care anyway, so long as whatever you’re upset about isn’t going to affect our plans for tonight.”
• There was a bite to his words, not-so-subtly reminding me that I’m the one insisting that we’re not a couple, just a whore and her client. Sure, I was the one who said it first, but that didn’t make it sting any less.
• “Asshole!” He had the audacity to wink at me, and I sent my elbow into his ribs for his troubles. “You should at least pretend to care if you’re gonna go running your mouth about exclusivity.”
• He snorted, like the thought that I could possibly hurt him without the proper tools was hilarious. “Hit me harder next time, I might pop a stiffy.”
• “Oh my god,” I groaned, rolling my eyes so hard I was genuinely surprised that I didn’t see my own brain. “I can’t believe I’m actually excited to fuck you.”
• “Ah, and yet . . . ”
• I glared at him. “Quit while you’re ahead.”
• “You’re not the first person to give me that advice,” he scoffed. “Not once have I ever taken it.”
• “Good,” I elbowed him again, a small smirk on my face. “I don’t actually want you to quit.”
• I didn’t want him to quit ever, and that was the problem.
• The last time I came to his apartment, he had made me cum in ways I never thought possible. He’d opened my mind and body to so many new experiences—and that was all before I discovered his secret.
• I needed him—needed to feel him. If that made him get all cocky, then so be it.
• “Of course not,” he grinned, all pride before the fall. “I’m irresistible.”
• Not that I wanted him to go and get an ego about it—he’d be insufferable. A little reality check never hurt anyone, right?
• “You’re also paying me,” I reminded him. “Like, so much money.”
• “Okay,” he deflated, his smile going sheepish. “Fair point—but you’d fuck me anyway, wouldn’t you?”
• In all honesty, I wasn’t sure how to answer him.
• I always thought Evan was hot. He was exactly my type—which, after learning that he had been the frontman for my favorite old band, was hardly a shocker. He had probably been the biggest influence on my taste in men during some very formative years.
• I had his poster in my bedroom for fuck’s sake. If it wasn’t for the face paint he used to wear I probably would have recognized him.
• Even so, something about him had made me nervous when we first met, and I couldn’t say for certain whether or not I would have ever gotten past that if I hadn’t needed the money.
• “I don’t know,” I shrugged. “You’re hot and all, but your vibes were off the charts rancid before I got to know you.”
• “That’d be the vampirism.” He nodded, taking my confession in stride. “You must have good instincts.”
• “I still fucked you,” I laughed, bumping my hip into his. “How good can they be?”
• “Most humans are drawn to vampires, like moths to a lantern.” His arm wrapped around my waist, his hand resting possessively on my hip. “It takes a special kind of person to sense us.”
• “You think I’m special?”
• Before he had a chance to respond, my attention had already turned to the newest mural on Cardinal Street. The artist was putting the finishing touches on a dead dove, wrapped in what looked to be red ribbon, and while I was busy looking at the art, the artist was staring at me.
• It wasn’t unusual—I was used to people staring at me for one reason or another, but the normalcy didn’t stop Evan from letting out a small scoff.
• Evan’s arm slid lower, his hand firmly cupping my ass as we walked away. The artist looked away quickly, and I couldn’t stifle my laugh as we walked down the stone stairs to Evan’s below ground apartment.
• “Oh my god,” I teased, amused by how human Evan’s reaction was. Though I supposed he was human once, not too awfully long ago. “Are you jealous?”
• He pushed me against the concrete wall opposite his door. My heart raced at the dangerous look in his eyes, and I clung helplessly to him as his fangs just barely grazed the soft skin of my throat.
• A soft moan escaped my lips, anticipating what he would do next.
• I would have let him have me right then and there if he wanted—I didn’t give a damn about propriety or decency as his tongue slid up my neck.
• His teeth scraped against my earlobe, and he let out a low hiss before whispering, “How could I possibly be jealous when you’re coming home with me?”
• I could have cried for how badly I wanted him, but he only laughed at me when I tugged at his belt.
• He pressed his forehead against mine as he stared down into my eyes. “You’re an eager little thing, aren’t you?”
• “Yes,” I hissed, wrapping my arms around his neck as I pulled him into a hungry kiss.
• Not just hungry, starved.
• Now that I had allowed myself to touch him, the floodgates had opened, and I no longer gave a damn who saw us.
• Somehow, he’d managed to reach behind and open the door, walking us both into his apartment where we could do as we pleased.
• I was so focused on the way his lips moved against mine that I gasped in surprise when my back hit something solid.