Ensnared

Chapter One

"Scott, I can explain," I shove past Arthur into his room, shooting the still perplexed man sitting on the bed a vicious glare. I find my old duffel bag folding in his closet, and stuff it full of my belongings. I try to tune out his excuses of how,

"It was just one slip!" or "You said we could keep it casual!" Lies, all of it. I leave the bedroom and go to the living room and take my fancy wool blanket. Sitting on the coffee table is a mug full of hot coffee. My mug. Just as I see this, Arthur pipes up again,

"You know if you were ever around maybe I wouldn't need to find someone else to fool arou-," That's it. I grab the mug and whip it at his head. It misses by a millimeter, shattering against the wall and spraying coffee everywhere. The action elicits a terrified shriek. In other circumstances, that would make me laugh,

"I've been busting my ass at the café! To pay bills! Not all of us have a mommy who lets us sit on our bum and fuck around while she covers all the bills," Ok, well I do have rich parents, but they cut me off decades ago. Perks of being the family disappointment. Arthur takes a step towards me, so I drop my fangs and growl at him, which earns a quick jump back with his hands up,

"What, are you going to kill me with those things now? See, this is why no one wants to actually be with you," he retorts. There's so much I could say, so much I wanted to do, but I keep my focus on leaving the apartment without crying. The bag is stuffed so full that I can't zip it, so I just give up, sling it over my shoulder, and storm out.

For once, in Phoenix, it's a dreary day. How fitting. I can't say I didn't see this coming. Just last week, Arthur found out I had hunted his third cousin. It's unfair, because who, except stupid Irish families, actually know their third cousins enough to care that they died. The whole cheating on me bit, though, is not what I expected. Maybe I'm just naive and this has been going on for ages. In the past, that's often been the case. I begin my walk of shame - under the gray Arizona sky- to my car.

Here's the thing, me being a vampire is no secret to my ex. It's not a huge secret to a lot of people- or well, supernatural beings I know. I don't make a point of telling everyone I meet about my dietary needs but after so many dinner date refusals, I have to cave in and spill. Arthur was cool about it, barely questioned it, although hindsight is 20/20 and I bet he didn't expect to have his third cousin turned into a Capri-sun.

Somehow even under the rare cloud cover, the sun is hot and exhausting when it peeks through, and the day going the way it's going is making me cranky - a pitiful but frequent emotion for an adult man to be feeling.

I blame the weather for the slew of curses that I let out when I notice the ticket on the windshield of my car. And we can blame Arthur for the even louder set of curses I yell out when I see the boot on my tire.

The ticket was for being 10 minutes past my meter. The boot? Well, maybe I missed paying a few tickets. Running a cafe is a time commitment, and they just slipped my mind, over and over again.

I give the tire a few pathetic kicks. I wish I could heave the car over my head and throw it at someone - Arthur. Alright, no big deal, just three miles to work.

I was one mile into the godforsaken walk when childhood trauma, memories, and whatnot popped up. There is a tapestry that hangs in my parent's manor; archaic threads somehow still withstanding hold our family crest and a line of who-knows-what language that roughly translated to "Ruler of the Night, Lord of Shadows." That's what vampires were supposed to be like, at least, that was what I was raised to believe.

But how I was raised and who I am. . . there's something missing. I catch my reflection in a dark store window. A miserable bastard with a sad bag of belongings. It feels like the beginning of a terrible rom-com, except instead of running into my future husband, I'm escaping my ex.