Blood Shadows (14 page)

Her eyes narrowed in confusion. ‘What?’

‘Never mind.’ He leaned forward to grab her by the small of the back, yanking her towards him.

She caught her breath and smiled. ‘I’ve always wanted to meet you.’

‘And why’s that?’

‘You’re a legend around here.’ Her gaze lingered on his mouth and she subtly licked her lips and looked back into his eyes, but clearly found it too intimidating to sustain. ‘Can I touch your fangs?’

‘They’re called incisors.’

She shrugged. ‘Can I touch them?’

He curled his upper lip slightly so she could touch the small section of exposed incisor.

Her eyes gleamed. She smiled, gasped and physically trembled as her forefinger made contact with enamel. ‘Wow. That’s so hot.’ She withdrew her hand again. ‘I mean, sexy.’

‘I’m glad you think so. Because I need to use them. On you.’

She snapped back a breath, her wide eyes wavering with uncertainty. ‘Sure. Yeah, I understand. You need to feed, right?’

‘Right.’

She nodded as she scraped her hair back from her neck. Her hand was still trembling. ‘I’ve never been bit. But I’ve had piercings and stuff.’ She let out a short, curt, nervous giggle. ‘I liked it. I liked the feeling.’

‘You think a bite is like a piercing?’

‘That’s what my friends say.’

‘Then your friends have clearly never been bit.’

Her startled gaze met his.

He had her face-first over the counter a split second later, her arm wrenched up her back.

He removed his penknife from his back pocket, flicked it open and laid it on the glass counter so she could see it.

Her eyes widened again, her panting uncontained. ‘What the fuck is that for?’

‘Dessert,’ he whispered in her ear.

She immediately struggled and squirmed, trying to buck beneath him until he wrenched her arm up a little further. She learned quickly to still, the first tear trickling from the corner of her eye. ‘Don’t hurt me,’ she whimpered.

‘I’m a vampire,’ he said, scraping her hair back from her neck before he ripped her loose black T-shirt down over her shoulder. ‘Not your boyfriend. What do you think I’m going to do?’

He looked down at her trembling lips before cupping her mouth with his hand. She’d scream on the first bite, he just knew it.

Sure enough she did – silently against the palm of his hand as he bit deep into the base of her neck with no anaesthetic, no warning.

He felt her shudder as he drank hard and fast, her fragile body shaking, quickly weakening. He bit into her again and again until her sobbing ceased, her body fast becoming lax.

When he’d fed enough, he reached for the knife. The blade slid easily through the pliable flesh of her neck, shoulder, and collarbone – a few superficial engravings just to remind her of the moment – not with any depth to scar her permanently, but probably enough to save her life if she used them for their real purpose: to make her think twice about tempting her kind again. He licked away the trickles of blood seeping from the shallow wounds before letting her go.

She had no idea how lightly he was letting her off.

She collapsed to the floor against the counter, tears damp on her cheeks, her make-up smudged around her glazed eyes so she looked like some badly painted rag doll.

He licked his knife clean and snapped it shut. He slid it back in his pocket just as he looked up to see Tamara watching him from the counter. Arms folded, there was no shock in her eyes but her raised eyebrows told him she wasn’t impressed with the pending aftermath.

‘I think you’ll need yourself a new assistant,’ he said.

‘No kidding,’ she said after him as he strolled back through the store, the bell tinkling as the door closed behind him.

CHAPTER NINE

C
aitlin sat upright as she heard the rumble of an engine beyond the door. The grate of metal against metal told her he was back. Or someone was. A car door slammed. Then there was silence again. The bolts were slid across, the door unlocked.

Her heart leapt as Kane stepped across the threshold. To her relief, he was alone. He closed the door, left his keys in the keyhole, but didn’t lock it. He hung up his jacket and placed the bag he was carrying onto the kitchen counter, a bag she recognised as hers. He placed the paper bag he’d also been carrying down beside it, before heading towards her.

She braced herself as he reached into his jeans pocket, taking out the key. He slid it into the lock with calm precision, eyes meeting intimately with hers for a moment. She lowered her gaze from the intimacy again, irritated at the pang in her chest.

He unfastened the cuff and Caitlin clenched her wrist as she watched him turn and stroll back across the room.

‘I’ve brought you something to eat,’ he said. ‘And there are a few things in your bag that I picked up from your place earlier. Feel free to freshen up.’

He stepped back out through the door, closing and locking it behind him.

She listened out for the sound of the car engine again, but there was nothing. She slipped off the bed and tentatively hurried over to the recess. She pressed her ear up against the door, struggling to hear over the low but insistent music from the TV. He was definitely out there. She could hear clanging and the clink of metal. Footsteps.

She examined the door more closely and ran her fingers over the two locks. Just basic locks. She could handle basic locks – they would be easy enough to pick with the right tool. But the door opened inward and those bolts on the other side were going to prevent any kind of pressure against it. There was only one way she was getting out of there and that was when those bolts were drawn back. And that only happened when he was in there with her. Still, a glimmer of hope was a glimmer of hope all the same.

She turned to face the room again and stepped over to her bag. She found her shampoo and shower gel, her comb and brush. Toothbrush. Perfume. She pulled out the clothes, all three of her patterned button-through knee-length tea dresses, dresses that she hadn’t had the occasion to wear in years. She raised her eyebrows. Feminine was obviously his thing. Either that or accessibility. She rooted through to find he’d even packed underwear. She shoved everything back in the bag, uncertain if she felt embarrassed or just indignant at the thought of him rifling through her personal items.

She glanced back at the door behind her. A shower would be good and getting herself into some proper clothes would be even better. She opened the paper bag to find a croissant and a pain au chocolat, some fruit and a bottle of juice. But they could wait.

She hoisted her bag over her shoulder and stepped across to the bathroom. She closed the door behind her, feeling uneasy to see there was no lock. She reminded herself she’d been unconscious with him for over two hours. If he’d wanted to see her naked he already would have. Maybe even had. But something told her that wasn’t his style. He’d want her to know. He’d strip her whilst she was conscious. He’d want to see her reaction.

Caitlin ran the shower and pulled off her negligee and knickers. She stepped under the spray, the warm flow making her skin tingle. It felt good to be clean. Good to be fresh. The familiar smell of her shower gel was reassuring even in the strange cubicle where she bathed. She dried off with the warmed towel she plucked off the rail and kept it wrapped around her, its generous size allowing her to simultaneously towel-dry her hair. She combed through her tresses and brushed her teeth, placing her toothbrush next to his. Her hand automatically reached for the brass and amber bottle beside them. She took off the lid. It smelt like him – warm, musky, with notes of spice and amber. The very scent of him sent butterflies soaring in her stomach.

She screwed the lid back on and placed the bottle back on the shelf.

She could do this. It didn’t matter how attracted she was to him, just as long as she didn’t fall for him. That was all it was – a crush: some besotted, unavailability-induced primal attraction. He was so deep in her psyche, so built up after all the years. The handsome face, the perfect body, the enticing smile. It was all just a mirage for what lay beneath, and she needed to keep that at the forefront of her mind.

Caitlin pulled on her underwear and dress and stood in front of the mirror as she fastened the last couple of buttons at her chest. She reached for her perfume and hesitated.

If she tempted him, she had to be sure she could keep playing along. She had no doubt in her mind that they were matched intellectually. But emotionally, sexually, she had to at least acknowledge her own vulnerability. But if that’s what he wanted from her, then that was her bait. It may even lower his guard a little. At the very least she needed to talk to him and start to get what she needed.

She sprayed on her perfume, and stepped back out into the room.

The door was still closed and the room empty. Caitlin strolled over to take the paper bag off the counter and took it over to the sofa. Accepting food from him felt like treachery, but she was hungry. She needed to keep her strength up. More than that, any defiance would only get his barriers up and she needed them as low as she could get them. She lay the napkin on her lap and took out the croissant, picking off mouth-sized chunks as she glanced at the TV.

An engine revved in the room beyond, making her flinch, but it was an engine being tampered with, not driven. And it wasn’t a car, but the guttural roar of a motorbike. She took the croissant with her as she stepped back over to the recess. She leaned against the door again and listened. The engine died down. She heard the clunk of metal. She waited a few minutes to hear anything else, but as silence persisted she wandered around the room.

She strolled into the kitchen, sliding her hand over the table that lay central in the small space. The window was boarded up like the one in the sleeping area. She looked in the fridge. There were beers, bottles of water, some snacks, but not much else. She pulled out the kitchen drawers, most were empty but she lingered over the cutlery one – over the few knives that would have a hard enough time damaging a steak let alone a hardened vampire. She checked through cupboards to find them mostly bare so strolled back over to the sofa.

She took her time eating, picking and playing with her food, each mouthful as laborious as the next, but it gave her something to do, something to try and ease the nerves. Finishing her juice, she found the bin and discarded her rubbish before strolling back into the bathroom to clean her teeth.

She climbed back up onto the bath. Outside, the pitch-blackness had turned to a misty grey. Dawn would be here in an hour or so. And that meant either Kane would be retreating to wherever home was or she’d be locked for several hours in his company.

Wandering back into the kitchen, she helped herself to a bottle of water and, resuming her place on the sofa, curled her feet under her, pulled a cushion into her lap and turned her attention to the TV screen.

The time ticked by and she watched a few more music videos. Then she sauntered around the room again, examining every inch of it for what must have been the fourth time, confirming again that there was no way out other than through the door where Kane had disappeared. She made two more trips to the bathroom and on the second noticed that dawn was already sending its muted warm glow through the reduced cracks in the bathroom windows. She wandered back out, paced a little more, before wandering back over to the sofa again.

She’d just settled in amongst the cushions when the door opened, and Kane stepped inside.

His jeans were not the dark ones he’d headed out there in. These were pale and threadbare, showing up every oil and grease stain. The white vest that had replaced his shirt exacerbated the marks even more. Smidgens of oil and grease lined his arms, neck and his cheek. He stopped at the fridge and pulled out a beer, flicking off the lid on his way back to the counter. He leaned back against it, facing her, her stomach flipping at the flexion in his smudged bicep as he raised the bottle to his mouth.

Knowing she was inadvertently gawping, she lifted the remains of her bottle of water to her lips, and swallowed a little harder than she intended. She could see he was appraising her change of clothing, but, despite the hint of a smile on his lips, he said nothing to compliment her. He said nothing at all before strolling back out of the door, this time leaving it ajar behind him.

Caitlin clenched her bottle as she waited to see if he would reappear.

But he didn’t.

As the minutes passed, her attention didn’t leave the recess. But when clinks echoed towards her, clinks that told her he’d just returned to whatever he had been doing, she finally relented to her curiosity and headed over to the doorway.

The stark room beyond was at least fifty by fifty feet. The sleek black car she knew to be his sat directly ahead, its bonnet jacked open. In front of that and to her left was his motorbike. Kane sat on the floor behind the bike, cleaning and tightening something, tools and dirty cloths spread on the floor around him. A garage door dominated the left wall, a small corrugated-steel door to its right. A workbench sat just off to her left on the back wall, a toolbox spread open on its surface. Ahead there was a corner reserved with some exercise equipment, a punchbag hanging from the A-frame rafters. The room smelt of diesel and oil.