I pulled Gizmo behind a beat-up old pickup which appeared to be old enough to have delivered dry goods to Abraham Lincoln during the Civil War. This was not good. Not only was the cabin scary looking, but the thought of being alone out in the wilderness with nobody around to hear me scream, seemed like the clinched beginning to every B rated horror flick I'd ever seen.
I glanced over to Fang who seemed to be relieved to have arrived at our distention in one piece. He opened the door and poured himself out of Gizmo whose springs heaved a sigh. Bending down, he stuck his head back inside, flashing me a pointy toothed smile and raising that annoying eyebrow at me.
"Come on, Red. Dinner awaits." He ducked back out, slamming the door.
Nope...that didn't sound the least bit creepy, I thought rolling my eyes. Pictures of Fang dressed in grandma's dressing gown floated into my subconscious.
"Grandma, my...what big teeth you have," I mumbled under my breath as I pulled my big girl panties up and got out of the car. Snorting, I walked to the back and popped open the hatch.
Fishing around, I tugged out my purse and reached for the spoon. Yeah, I know...the spoon wasn't going to do a damn thing to deter Captain Canine, but at this point in time, it was more of a security blanket than anything else. Besides, it was the only thing I had left of my Thumbelina house, thanks to the fanged Unabomber. I jerked my spoon shovel out and it snagged the bags from my lunch break shopping spree.
I scooped them up in sheer joy. Clothes! I had clothes. Brand spanking new, hot...if I do say so myself...clothes! Hugging them to my chest, I looked over at the cabin. My face fell. I may have something clean to wear, but the chances of having hot water for a shower seemed slim to none. Not in that ancient relic from hillbilly hell.
The cabin was made of logs and held together by duct tape, baling wire and bubblegum. Okay...so maybe not duct tape, but you get the idea. It didn't present itself to be the sturdiest of structures. It sagged horribly in the middle, the porch was rickety and jokingly enough, had log built furniture on the front. I am sure it was meant to be cozy, but in the moonlight it looked terrifying and screamed splinters galore if you sat your ass down in one. Somebody call Martha Stewart, this place was in dire need of some of her DIY magic.
Smoke curled lazily from the rock chimney and the windows glowed with light. It looked kind of like a Thomas Kinkaid painting...if he painted stuff from Halloweentown. Apparently, it was livable, but now I was worried by who. My eyes widened in horror. Maybe it was housing my next meal, I gasped.
"What's the matter, Red?" Drake walked over to me, his forehead creasing in a frown.
"Someone's home," I whispered, jerking my head towards the cabin, gulping hard.
"Yes, that would be Mason." Fang stretched and cracked his neck with a pop.
"Mason?" Great, now I knew his name. It reminded me of the time our fifth grade class took a field trip to that farm. We spent the afternoon petting and feeding cute cows, pigs, goats and other cuddly animals only to have it explained to us everything at Old McDonald's farm eventually showed up in our happy meal later.
It took me months to be able to look at a chicken nugget, let alone eat it after that.
"Come on, I'll explain it after we settle in." He grabbed my elbow and started hauling me off. I had no choice but to be escorted into the Blair Witch's cabin.
Our feet had no sooner hit the creaking floorboards of the porch before the door whisked open and Egor stood there greeting us with a lopsided grin. Okay...he didn't look like your typical Egor. He wasn't pasty, smelly or in need of a chiropractor. In fact, he was rather good looking in a woodsy, lumberjack sort of way with his silky blond hair and plaid shirt tucked into crisp, pressed jeans.
"Good evening, master Drake." Broad shoulders bent down as he bowed his head.
What the heck was up with the master Drake stuff? I turned to Fang who gave the man a tight lipped smile.
"Mason, I would like you to meet our guest for the evening, Melanie Wagner."
Watery, puppy dog brown eyes turned to me. I stuck out my hand and he clasped it in both of his, dropping his forehead down to our clasped palms. "It's an honor," he whispered reverently and I could have sworn I felt the brush of his lips against the back of my hand. I mean, it's a nice sentiment and everything, but...ewww. The guy had no idea where my hands had been. Hell, at this stage of the game, I wasn't even sure where they had been.
"Please, make yourselves at home." Mason smiled broadly after finally letting go of my hand, moving away from the doorway and allowing us to enter. I noticed he didn't have any exceptional dental work. Oh God, he was human. My heart bucked hard in my chest as Drake shoved me inside and closed the door.
Stumbling into the cabin whose décor could only be described as Early Huntsman, I nervously played with the plastic shopping bags clutched in my grip. My eyes taking in the many blank, glazed stares of the mounted animal heads. Deer, moose and bear...oh my. PETA would have a field day with this guy.
"We'll be down in the apartments," Drake said, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards what I assumed to be the living room, judging by the dark green lumpy sofa sitting in the middle.
"Of course, master. If you should need anything, I will forever be at your service." He clicked the heels of his boots, bowing low enough to sweep the floor with his hair.
"Yes, thank you, Mason," Drake muttered, dragging back a dingy area rug to reveal a hidden door. Pulling on the metal ring right out of medieval times, the door swung up with an ominous creak revealing a set of stone steps leading down into darkness.
"Ladies first." Drake gestured grandly with his arm.
I approached the opening carefully, waiting for the pet dragon from the Adam's Family to pop out and turn me into a tiki torch. The faint glow of the living room lamps illuminated the black stone wall. Narrowing my eyes, I could make out the stone steps disappearing around a turn far, far below.
"What's down there?"
"A place where we can talk and be protected from the sun."
"Why don't we hang out up here with Mason?" I turned and looked at the woodsman who would be wagging his tail like a golden retriever...if he had one. There was something seriously wrong with that guy.
"Oh yes, please master." He bobbed his head up and down. "I was just about to melt wax and make candles!" he said, clapping his hands in childlike glee.
"Because this part of the house is not sheltered from daylight." He leaned closer and whispered in my ear, "Do you really want to hang out with him?" he asked, jerking his head towards poor Mason who was now dancing a little jig to music only he could obviously hear.
"Uh...no." I shook my head. "But he does one hell of a moonwalk."
"You're stalling. Come on, Red. I promise nothing will hurt you down there."
Said the spider to the fly, I thought. Taking a deep breath and hugging my spoon closer, I took my first step into Drake's lair. Surprisingly, the air was fresh and clean. I didn't run into any creepy cobwebs, slithering creatures, skulls or chains. I have to admit, for a vampire's lair...it was rather disappointing on the macabre.
Rounding the corner, I came into a vast open and shockingly swanky underground penthouse. Drake, leaned over my shoulder and flicked on a series of switches and the place blazed to life. Every modern convenience known to mankind was housed here and my mouth dropped open in awe.
"Not what you were expecting I take it?" Drake chuckled as he strode past me, sliding out of his leather coat and tossing it over the white leather sofa on his way to the kitchen.
Turning, I was about to say something about vamps keeping the leather industry in full swing, but one look at his body and I forgot my own name for about fifteen minutes. He had rolled up the sleeves of that blessed white shirt and was washing his hands in the kitchen sink. His powerful arms working the suds and me into a lather. His shoulders were wide and well defined, moving fluidly underneath as he worked. His long legs attached to a perfectly round and smooth ass, wiggled ever so slightly as he dried his hands and my body swayed. Dancing to the rhythm of it.
It was one of those moments a woman can only dream about, until my stomach ground out a noise so deafening loud and embarrassing, it shattered it into a gazillion pieces. I could feel the burn on my face as it turned a color not generally found in nature.
Drake placed his hand on the counter and smiled at me. The points of his canines peeking out from his full lips. "Let's get you something to eat." He motioned for me to sit on one of the stools under the counter.
Please, don't be Mason. Please, don't be Mason...I prayed as I set my bags on the couch, along with my spoon. But, for some absurd reason, I kept my purse as I made my way over and jumped up on the stool.
Fang turned to the humongous stainless steel fridge and started rifling around in it. "Do you have any preferences?" he asked, his voice muffled.
Yes. I prefer my meals to purr, be coated in fur and not able to hold a conversation with me, I thought while I watched his buns of steel flex and move. "Um...not really," I croaked.
The man needed to ditch those leather pants. They were becoming a health hazard...for him as I contemplated ripping them off with my new fangs. The phrase, bite my ass, never seemed so decedent as it did at this moment.
Of course, the thought of biting anything, sent my stomach into a chorus of sounds as appealing as a garbage disposal.
"Protein." Fang laid two steaks the size of a brontosaurus on the counter. "You need protein and lots of it."
My shoulders sagged in relief. Mason was not on the menu. I could not have been happier, except for one small problem. Those steaks were not swimming in a pool of delicious blood. Unless he planned on juicing those suckers, I had no clue how they were going to silence my voracious stomach.
"Um...how are we going to eat them?" My nose curled up at the thought of slurping them down in a meat smoothie.
He frowned at me. "What do you mean?"
"We're vampires, Fang," I said, trying really hard not to add the "duh" part to that sentence.
"I am aware."
"Vampires only drink blood, duh." Okay, so I lasted a few seconds. At least I tried.
Fang closed his eyes and appeared to be counting to ten, again. "We drink blood when necessary, but we don't survive on it completely. We still need to eat." He held up one of the slabs of beef. "Protein is essential. As a vampire you burn more fuel than you did as a human, requiring you to need to consume more calories."
As he gave me the rundown of the vampire version of the food pyramid, he seasoned the steaks. Sprinkling on salt, pepper and...GARLIC.
Reaching over, I slapped the granulated garlic out of his hand and sent it flying across the kitchen. "Are you trying to kill me?" I hissed at him. Which, now being a vampire, is a hell of a lot more impressive than it ever was when I was human.
"Are you allergic to garlic or something?"
"We both are you idiot!"
He remained quiet for a moment, staring at me with those diamond eyes of his and drumming his fingers against the counter. I wanted to tell him how annoying that was, but at this point...I was pretty sure he already knew.
"Let's get something straight. I've been a vampire for 575 years, so let's assume I know more about being a vampire than someone, like you, who has only been one for three days." Turning, he walked over to the bottle of seasoning, picked it up and liberally started dumping copious amounts of the stuff on the meat until it looked like it had a bad case of dandruff.
"You're 575 years old?" My mouth dropped open in astonishment. Oh my God! I've been lusting after the crypt keeper.
Something tells me Mel would rather be making candles at the moment upstairs with Mason. Would you date a hot vamp who was pushing 600 years old? Will Mel?
Stay tuned for the next installment of FANGED to find out .
Hey everyone! I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it. If you liked it please give it a vote and comments are always appreciated. If you don't see any updates here...check out my other two stories Bending Steele or When Roses Collide.