Fang's brows dropped to a deep scowl as he bought one hand up to his forehead, pulling some his silky hair away from his face and trapping it on the top of his head. He looked from the shattered remains of the vase to my grinning face and back. Clearly, he had not expected a response like the one he just got and I had all I could do to not start doing the Dougie. Instead, I swung my spoon shovel over my shoulder and gave him a smug look.
"Was that necessary?" he asked, turning to me and giving me one of those disapproving frowns he was so talented at as he slid his hands to his hips.
"You got the point, didn't you?" I felt my stomach tighten uncomfortably as he continued to stare at me. I tried to shake it off. After all, disapproving looks were something I was totally accustomed to, but for some weird reason...it irked me I had let him down.
Which was ridiculous. It was his clan of hippies who wanted me dead. I needed to remember that little factoid. He may be a handsome devil with a body I would like to turn into my own personal playground, but he was also a paid lackey for the Colony.
He narrowed his gaze. "Why this sudden change of attitude?" He took an intimidating step forward. "What else did you remember?"
Whipping my weapon off my shoulder, I sent him a warning swing. "Come any closer to me and your head is going to be knocked off to right field," I hissed.
There was a long pause. Me doing a perfect Reggie Jackson stance and Fang clenching his jaw so tight, I could hear his molars grind. You know, that's not a really particularly pleasant sound, I thought flinching.
"If I had wanted to kill you, Red, I could have done it a thousand times over already." His softly spoken argument sliced through the silence of our stand-off.
His words stunned me. I had thought the very same thing when I chose to escape Thumbelina's cottage with him. But, in my defense, that was before I knew about the Colony or the Elders. And let's face it, me and authority figures hadn't exactly gotten along over the years. Mr. B would have a hay day telling anyone who was willing to listen all about my misdemeanors in the last six months of working at the Superpumper.
I didn't need a bunch of stuffed shirts telling me anything. As far as I was concerned, it was better they stayed in their creepy Colony and I went about my business. I could take care of myself just fine. All I needed to do was stay under the radar, work graveyard shifts and make sure I moved next door to a crazy cat lady. Easy-peasy.
Besides, I was a vampire now. Which, despite it having been a drag thus far, still came with a few cool perks. One of them was having been made into an instant comic book hero...of sorts. It's not like I didn't have talents of my own. I was pretty damn strong, could see in the dark and could move faster than Flash Gordon with a bad case of the trots.. The only protection I needed was a chastity belt when it came to tall, dark and captivating over there.
I narrowed my eyes at Captain Canine and a small shiver of trepidation snaked its way down my spine. I mean, yeah...I had superpowers, but then again, so did he. Five hundred years' worth, give or take a few decades. Some of my self-confidence melted into a puddle at my feet. I gulped, tightening my grip on the spoon shovel as my hands started to sweat. There was no doubt in my mind, if he had wanted to, he could have disposed of me six ways to Sunday.
"Why didn't you?" I asked, tilting my chin up defiantly. I got big coolness points for keeping my voice calm and steady, when I was feeling anything but.
His diamond eyes glowed darkly, taking on brilliant shimmer as they snapped with more than the usual amount of vampire temper. He looked like he was about to say something and then...POOF...he was gone.
I whipped around, searching for any sign of him. Drat! I had forgotten about his ability to ghost. Swinging my bat around madly through the air like a samurai looking for a piñata, I hoped to nail his Casper ass. But, after about a hundred swings or so, all I did was clock the shit out of a potted plant.
I angrily swiped my hair out of my face, as I panted from my exertion. My eyes darted to every nook, cranny and corner looking for any sign of him as I kept my bat up ready to strike the first movement I spotted. Heaven help any flying insect right now if it should accidently buzz into my line of vision.
I screamed bloody murder when I felt a hand fall over the top of mine and jerked the spoon shovel out of my grasp. Another strong arm wrapped around my waist, lurching me back against a solid hard surface. Holy Moses on a pogo stick! It was Fang!
Furious he had gotten the drop on me, I threw myself forward in hopes of breaking out of his arms, but to no avail. He simply pulled me tighter against his chest. The breath from his chuckling, tickling my ear.
"Gotcha," he laughed.
"Let me go you two legged parasite!" I shouted, kicking back like a country mule.
"Not until you've heard me out," he growled, tossing my spoon shovel to the other end of the room.
I watched as it sailed with a perfect arc to the furthest corner. "I don't care what you have say, snaggletooth!" I wiggled and squirmed against him, but it was like trying to escape Alcatraz.
"You. Need. Me."
"Uh...news flash...I don't need you. I don't want you..," I screeched to a halt in mid-rant as one of his hands pulled me closer against him. The other gently clamped onto the base of my neck, tilting it to the side and shoving down my turtleneck. His face nuzzled in my hair until it fell behind my shoulder, exposing my neck.
Slowly, he dragged his fangs up the side of the bare flesh until he reached the little spot behind my earlobe. Goosebumps erupted on my skin and I quivered. Once he reached his intended destination, I felt his lips brush it slightly before the tip of his tongue unhurriedly licked the spot like he would a drip off an ice-cream cone.
That was it. I melted as if he had hit my reset button. My knees buckled and I slumped into his arms like a ragdoll. My self-righteous anger deflated out of me as if someone had released a balloon. All I felt was the warmth of his body against mine and the hard muscle ridges of a man in perfect physical condition. Nothing else mattered. Drat! I needed to Google to see if there was a sale on those chastity contraptions, pronto.
"I didn't kill you, Red," he rumbled into my ear, "because I like you." He nipped my ear lightly. "And you're wrong, you do need me." He chuckled deeply at my low moan and I felt the delicious vibration of it down to my toes. "And...you are a lair." He inhaled deeply, snuggling his nose into the nape of my neck. "You do want me," he breathed.
In a flash, he was gone leaving me stumbling forward and clasping the edge of the couch so I wouldn't do a face-plant onto the hardwood floor. I was shaking with rage and yes...dammit...a good amount of lust.
"Asshole," I muttered, trying to drag enough air into my lungs to still my pounding heart. Could vampires have heart attacks? I needed to add that to my Google search list because it sure as hell felt like I was about to have one.
"I'm going to take a shower. I think things need to cool down a little and we need to take a break before we continue this discussion."
He reappeared in the doorway just right of the living room and I jerked my head in his direction, yelping like a puppy who got caught piddling on the rug. Good gravy, the man was seriously trying to kill me by scaring me to death.
"I scrounged up a robe and some toiletries for you as well, in case you would like to take one too." He arched up that sexy annoying brow of his. "Unless you would like to conserve water and take one with me?"
Still unable to put syllables together, I shook my head. The thought of seeing him naked, with water sluicing over those muscles and edges had me gripping the couch so hard I heard it rip.
"Too bad," he drawled, turning. "Oh, by the way, Red," he threw over his shoulder, "I love the taste of peppermint." He winked and smacked his lips before disappearing down the dark hallway.
God, he really was too hot for his own good, I thought as I crawled my way to the actual sitting side of the couch and did a spectacular Flipper flop onto it. Though my mind said absolutely not when it came to showering with the enemy, my body on the other hand didn't agree. It wanted to know how much sexual experience a 575 year old vamp with an eternally young body had in his repertoire.
I needed some sexy vampire repellent when it came to that man and I doubted the pepper spray I had in my purse would do much more than tickle his nose.
Sitting up, I decided this situation called for more wine. I dumped the rest of the bottle into my gigantic glass. Lifting it up to my lips, my eyes wandered over to the manila envelope. Taking a quick gulp, I nervously looked over my shoulder. Seeing the coast was clear and hearing the shower start up, I pulled it over to me and started flipping through it.
Holy Moses on a pogo stick! I shakily put the glass down in fear I might drop it. My whole life history was here. Right down to my bra size. Okay...not really, but shit...it could have been here. Everything else certainly was. From my social security number, date of birth, credit card information, bank statements...what the hell?
I pulled out an official looking document. It was a different kind of a paper than the Xerox copies everything else was on. Or...I think it was paper. It had a strange feeling to it like old parchment and was beautifully written in ink. Not your typical ballpoint variety either. This was the real deal with some fancy penmanship. I held it up, admiring the calligraphy. Not a drip to be seen. Impressive.
Eventually I stopped appreciating the fancy script and started to read it. Or tried to read it. The darn thing read like a bad Shakespeare play. But one sentence stood out loud and clear. The one proclaiming me unnatural and demanding I be excuted...immediately.
Upon this marked day, it shall be recognized by the Elder Council the being with hair of hellish flame be determined not as Vampyre, but as an abomination of the foulest form and hence has been sentenced to execution at thee hand of an appointed true blooded united member of the Colony.
My mouth fell open. Fang...or Drake had been ordered to kill me. The paper shook in my hand and I let if fall from my numb fingers. I really needed to learn that lesson about snooping to go along with the one about eavesdropping.
"I have no intention of following through with the decree."
Drakes softly spoken voice made me whip my head around. He was leaning causally with one shoulder against the doorway of the kitchen wearing a pair of black silky pajama bottoms that hung off his lean hips and a black tank top which clung like a lover's caress. Showing exactly how powerfully built he truly was. His damp hair was slicked back off his chiseled face and his diamond eyes glowed warmly in the dim light.
Snapping my jaw shut which had sprung open wide enough to catch June bugs, I shook my head like a wet dog trying to clear out the sudden impure thoughts I was having. This wasn't the time to let my hormones out for a stroll. Tearing my gaze away from his, I refocused them on the finely written death sentence. My death sentence.
Looking at that damn thing was enough to heat my blood with something other than desire. Who needed a chastity belt? All I needed to do was staple that stupid thing to my forehead. Grabbing it, I shoved my butt up off the sofa and whirled around to face him.
"I'm supposed to believe you?" I said loudly. "You're one of them! You said so yourself and was trying to get me to join your little cult on the prairie too." I strode up to him and shook the paper under his nose. "Well you can forget it! I'm not drinking the grape Kool-Aid, Fang." I ripped up the sheet and tossed the pieces at him. They fell in a soft blanket around him like snow.
"What is wrong with you people? You're sick, you know that?" I started to pace in front of him, warming up to my rant. "Whatever happened to due process? Innocent until proven guilty?" My mind raced for every lawyer type phrase I had ever heard on television. "Nobody even read me my Miranda rights!"
He cocked an eyebrow at me, as his lips twitched with amusement.
"Don't give me that look!" I hissed, pointing a finger at him. "Hair of hellish flame? What the hell does that even mean? What! I'm being persecuted for having red hair now?" I threw my hands up in the air in frustration. "Who even talks like that anymore?"
Turning away from him, I stormed over to the corner where my spoon shovel had landed, bending to pick it up. "When the sun goes down, I am so out of here," I muttered.
I felt a whoosh of air breeze past me and suddenly Fang was standing between me and the spoon shovel.
"And you. How dare you pretend to be...hey!" He gripped my elbow and dragged me towards him. I dug my heels in, but it was no good. All I did was leave two black skid marks across the floor.
With infuriating ease, he pulled me to him and pressed his mouth to mine.
So Drake was ordered by the Colony to kill poor Mel...is kissing her the answer to get himself out of the doghouse?
Stay tuned for the next installment of FANGED to find out. Are you curious to know what Drake looks like? Come join the fun on my Facebook page K. M. Halandras and 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.