The Vampire Prince

Chapter Six

Everette

Farah is doing her best to pretend my being here doesn't bother her. But she's flustered, a pink blush rising up her neck and reaching her cheeks.

After another day of just watching her, my patience is wearing thin and I can feel my self-control beginning to waver. The rest of the café's staff watch me, intrigued as to why I've spent my whole day in their little café.

Unlike many of the people around me, I haven't brought a book or a laptop to keep myself busy. My whole focus has been on Farah. All day.

There are things I should be doing; emails I could be replying too. Just because I'm a Vampire doesn't mean I don't work. It just means I do it more efficiently than most humans. I could check the stream of emails that has caused my phone to buzz on and off all day, but that would mean looking away.

I won't look away. Not until I've marked her and maybe not even then.

One of the other baristas approaches my table, a wide smile brimming her face.

"We're closing now, Sir." Her voice squeaks nervously.

Nodding my head, I pull out my credit card to pay my tab, all without taking my eyes off Farah.

She's pulling on her coat. Apparently, she's not closing tonight. A mental picture of walking her home flits through my mind but I refuse to entertain it. I don't want to date her. I want to kill her.

Farah glances my way hesitantly before grabbing her bag and making a dart for the door, eager to escape while I'm tied up paying.

Chuckling to myself, I let her go. It's not like she'll get far. I'm a lot quicker than her.

Farah

I bolted out of there so quickly that now I'm two streets away and struggling to breathe. I don't know why I bothered to run away. I should have just reported him to the police. Except he technically hasn't really done anything wrong. At least nothing serious enough to actually get him in trouble.

I can hardly report him for stealing my book.

Stalking, however... If he keeps it up, I'll definitely report him for that shit.

"The police won't help you," a voice says from behind me.

It's a voice I would recognise anywhere, a voice I dreamed about all last night and anticipated hearing most of the day. It's a voice that scares the fucking bejesus out of me.

My heart plummets and I spin around to face him, only to realise that he's far too close for comfort.

His eyes are molten silver and inhumanly beautiful. Instead of doing the sensible thing and stepping away from him, I lean forward, drawn to those eyes.

I'm not even sure that I'm actually breathing until he looks away momentarily, breaking whatever spell his eyes have me under.

Looking back, he asks, "can I offer you a lift home, Farah?"

My eyes automatically follow the hand he is holding up, gesturing towards an expensive car.

Shaking my head, I don't speak. I'm not convinced I even know how to talk anymore. I avoid looking at him. I don't want to be pulled in by those eyes or distracted by his chiselled jawline.