The Last Vampyre Prophecy (2 page)

Who in hell was this creature that momentarily disarmed me?

I shake my head and avoid the big doe green-eyes that seek me out once more.

Wit
hout a backward glance I shift my stance and amble out of the crowd. Once I am out in the artic air I gain a bit of clarity.

I hand
my ticket to the valet and fold into the seat. My hands are gripping the wheel inflexibly until the leather protests against the plastic and the stitching unravels under my grip.

A shrilling car horn tears me from my trance and I place the car in drive and peel out of the lot. Soon I am
turning into my private garage and closing the heavy metal doors behind me.

I need a vein but I desperately need
to confront my situation. I have to find answers. What the hell happened to me? Who was that girl and why did she affect me so savagely? I’ve gone eighteen hundred years without feeling emotions. The only thing I feel is hunger.

But it wa
s in her eyes. She felt it too, I could sense it in her thoughts but strangely her thoughts only came in short clips, nothing cohesive. And that was another thing that had never happened to me.

The overwhel
ming feeling of uncertainty begins to creep into my being and it stirs a feeling I have long avoided—fear.

CHAPTER TWO

ADONIA

Oh.My.God! Who the fuck was that guy? I had a terrible sense of
Déjà vu—It feels like I know every part of him. The dreams, the incessant dreams come flooding back—all at once. He reminds me of the man that has haunted my sleep every night for the past three years.

It
’s always the same dream—I’ve never really gotten to see his full face, only his profile but he is so unforgettable, like the man tonight.

I sha
ke my head. “Get out of your head, Andie, it’s a scary fucking place.” I mutter to myself.

A surly throat clears
somewhere in front of me and makes me whip my head up from the noisy cappuccino machine.

“Uh, sometim
e today, Cleopatra.” She snaps.

It was most certainly not the first time someone had made that comment. Hell, even I could see the similarities—jet-black
hair, natural black lined eyes and deep olive skin. I’d heard it more times than I cared to admit.

I gi
ve her my eat shit smile and yank the ticket from the metal clamp in front of me and eye her order.

I grab a cup and shove
it under the metal opening and measure out the contents watching the hot liquid spew from the machine and froth atop the lid.

With my award win
ning, Pulitzer smile I stretch my hand across the glass case. “Have a wonderful day, ma’am.”

Her shocked look of disgust at the ga
ll of me calling her ma’am jerks me out of my funk and laces me with unbridled amusement. 

Luckily the next in line i
s a cute senior in my class at NYU.

He grins
. “So, do you always hold up the line or did you just do that on purpose?”

I smile
. “Oh, you can damn well believe
that
was on purpose.”

“Tha
t’s what I thought.” He chuckles. “You finished your final essay in Clarke’s class?”

I sigh and drop
my head. “Hell no.” I mutter, petulant. “You?”

“Yup.” He says as he reaches
for his tall Sumatra blend with light cream and a dash of honey.

He stirs
the contents and shifts from foot to foot as he continues, “I could help you…you know, if you’d like.” He amends.

I smile
at his obvious trepidation. “Actually, I could use some help, you free tomorrow night?”

His responding smile i
s blinding. “Abernathy’s, on eight? Seven o’clock?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He stares at me a beat then shakes his head slightly and smiles. “It’s a date. See you tomorrow at seven, Adonia.”

“Bye, Benton,
see you tomorrow night.” He begins walking and I call after him. “And thanks.”

There
’s that blinding smile again.

The rest of my shift
is mindless. Finally, after the last customer leaves I grab my keys and lock the door pulling the sign in the window.

Ralph cut
s half the lights and we go about closing the shop in silence. He would never say it but he hates me—hates my relationship with his mother and father.

When I first moved to New York they pulled me under their wing once I came to work and have been my second family since.

Ralph is a twisted, egotistical, giant, womanizing asshole. He’s tried for two years to get in my pants and when he realized it would never happen he brings out the asshole card whenever I am around. But having two brothers I can dish it right back to him and that makes him hate me even more.

Finally, the pastry coolers a
re emptied and the machines wiped down. I grab my purse and wait by the door as Ralph sets the alarm. Two minutes later he strolls across the tiled floor and yanks my keys from the lock then shoves them into my hand.

To
o tired to fight I just sigh and wait for him to open the stupid freaking door. Once my feet hit the concrete I am heading west in search of my gloriously tiny apartment with no working heat but a warm comfortable bed.

The foot traffic at this time of
night is sparse. A stray flier for a local band whips around the ground in front of me and blows against my leg wrapping around my shin.

I bend down and grasp
it wadding the faded ink and throw it in the nearest trashcan.

The frigid November air slice
s through my meager coat and chills me to the bone. The resulting blast of winter air between each building takes my breath. Winter in New York City is cold but the last few weeks have been brutal—bone chilling cold.

My pace quickens
when the familiar brick building comes into view. Visions of me, a hot bowl of soup and a smutty ass romance novel plays before my eyes.

George i
s sitting on the stoop, as usual, and greets me a little too enthusiastically. I smile but keep my head downcast. Sometimes the man just gives me the fucking creeps. He is twice my age, recently divorced and apparently on the prowl.

The stupid elevator has
n’t worked in months so I lazily climb the four flights of stairs. The dead beat mom in 4-C is passed out again, I assume, because her kid is tearing down the hall on his bike, ramming the walls and screeching at the top of his lungs.

I grit my teeth and shove
my keys into the lock. Once I step inside and slam the door I tune the world out. Nothing else matters to me but my jammies and my smutty-ass book.

If I can
’t—won’t—have a real life romance then turning the sizzling pages of the latest contemporary, orgasm-inducing novel will have to suffice.

As I pour a glass of wine I remember
my study date with Benton tomorrow and blush to my hairline. I don’t know what came over me but there is no way in hell I could go through with it. I contemplate my derisory excuses—The flu, or a sick parent or even the tired old headache line. One of those will have to be my option.

Since I was young—ten years old—my ability to
interact with the opposite sex was flawed. Boys had approached me my entire life but I felt awkward and blisteringly shy around them.

I
’d considered my sexuality briefly in high school wondering if that was the catalyst but ultimately I knew that wasn’t the case.

I still d
on’t know what my aversion is but it’s crippling. I am a twenty-two year old girl who’s never even been kissed.

Sometimes I cry
over it. I see love everyday. Elderly people that would do anything rather than break the bond of their hands while walking through a door and young couples in love are the worst. They fan smitten eyes toward one another, then there are the lucky ones that have children. The love and adoration on their faces when they look at the partner that helped bring their child into this world. It just warms yet breaks my heart, every time.

There i
s just something flawed within me. I’ve never been able to connect that fissure. I am fundamentally lacking and it is a hard cross to bear.

I sigh and yank
my kindle off the table. When the screen whirrs to life I lose myself in someone else’s beautiful life for the next few hours…

Gordon Ramsey’s harsh voice wa
kes me and I blink twice realizing I am sprawled out on my lumpy sofa, the kindle still on my chest.

I y
awn and stretch climbing off the tattered fabric and pad down the hall. The floorboards are freezing against my bare feet.

I yank
my toothbrush from the holder and vigorously scrub the sheen of coffee and sugar off my teeth.

Once my face i
s washed and my teeth clean I shut the light and beam when I see the rumpled quilts and fluffy pillows that await me.

Within seconds I
am out for the count. The sandman mercifully takes me under his wing and kisses me goodnight.

             
              ***

An Adonis swept past the muted light between the small crack in the door. I watched his lithe movements and felt a pang of ache deep in my belly.

He was catlike in his stride, so confident and beguiling. He combed the porous stone room. His clothes were draped around his olive skinned frame. Almost like a sheen of fabric wrapped in several layers around his toned body. I couldn’t take my eyes off his broad shoulders and chiseled arms.

His hair lay in a mass of black waves down his back. He walked around the room examining his surroundings, the confident stride exuding raw masculinity. I felt my muscle
s clench and a deep desire flare.

I watched him for several minutes, gliding gracefully about the room. Then a far door opened and a beautiful woman strode into the room. Her silky blonde hair casca
ded across her breasts and her legs were sheathed in silk.

She smiled vexingly and
swiped her finger across his chest as she past.

Then she began to dance around him in slow deliberate strides. Each pass she made she would caress his body, filling him with desire.

Her face was flawless; probably twenty at best and the bold caramel eyes sparkled in the muted light over the skyline. After each pass she made, brushing svelte touches over his body she responded equally.

Finally she spoke. “
Khai, why have you disregarded my repeated requests to come to me?” She ran her hand across his chest and down to his abdomen watching the progress with her greedy eyes.

I felt a burning sense of rage and possession clawing inside my chest. I wanted to tear her hands away from him.

She came to a stop in front of his face. “You will answer me, Khai.” She flicked her nail under his chin and drew blood.

He met her gaze with a look of indignity. “My heart belongs to another
, Mehi. It is not you.”

She glared at him through her thick-rimmed lashes. “Oh, you will be mine, Khai—forever. She will not walk this earth with you, by your side. That will be me. You are
mine
.”

They stood ga
uging one another for several minutes then before my eyes could focus she blurred with movement and buried her face in his neck. I watched as he fell limply into her caged arms, blood soaking the fabric draped around his shoulder.

I began to scream and she locked my eyes and smiled as she dropped him to the floor and stalked toward me laughing as she wiped the blood from her lips.

There was nowhere to run so I screamed louder as she reached the door and pulled it open. Her eyes were burning almost red. I could feel the hatred and rage rolling off her body as she reached out and grabbed my arms with her cold fingers.

“Say goodbye Nanu.” She hissed and yanked my head back as she ripped her teeth through my neck and my world went black.

***

I jerked up in bed hearing my own screams. My shirt soaked in sweat and my heart pounding in my chest. That had seemed so real.

I t
ake several deep breaths and run my hands through my hair trying to calm myself. That dream had been different from the rest. They spoke and then in the end died.

I thro
w my hands over my face rubbing my eyes. It couldn’t be. The man in my dreams and the man at the bar, the same? No. It’s impossible.

I climb out of bed and walk
to the bathroom. Staring into the mirror I turn on the water. My face is flushed and my eyes bright and wide. I splash cold water over my skin but his image keeps flashing over and over.

I sh
ake my head. “It was just a dream, Ade. Get a hold of yourself, idiot.”

I walk to the kitchen and switch the coffee pot on. The sun is just rising and I breathe
a sigh of relief. No more sleep and no more dreams, at least for today.

Once I
gulp my first cup of coffee I pull out my running clothes and tie my shoes.

The wind bit
es my face as I jog down the front steps hitting the pavement. The streets are deserted only delivery trucks and shop owners setting up for the day. The soothing sound of my shoes slapping the concrete and my deep even breathing calm my anxiety.

I ru
n harder today and further than my normal route around the neighborhood. I just can’t shake the uneasy feeling deep down in the pit of my stomach.

I th
ink about the night with the man at the bar and it seemed as though he felt something odd, too, when we locked eyes.

Then I laugh at myself. He i
s soooo far out of my league, who the fuck am I kidding. He probably didn’t even notice that I existed. Men like him are looking for the real Cleopatra—goddess—not a broke soon-to-be graduate with no future.

I slow
when my building comes into view and stop at the corner stretching my legs and catching my breath.