The Donor to a Vampire (Donor #1)

Chapter 21: Of Words And Actions

"You wanted to speak to me," I said flatly. It wasn't a question but a statement, a simple fact.

Masked Ly wordlessly closed the door as he stepped through the threshold of a private VVIP room (which was ridiculous; who was such an important person who needed a very very to clarify their significance). While I waited for his reply, I glanced around at the mess that had been left behind. The manager threw out the previous occupants no matter how much a naked middle-aged guy screamed at us: 'DON'T YOU KNOW WHO I AM?!'. Dollar bills were in the Manager's eyes when Ly flashed her a black credit card and promised he would pay for the room for a whole week if she let us use it right now.

A thong fell from a chandelier and landed at my feet. With disgust, I kicked the underwear with the tip of my shoe.

Lovely, this room is probably full of semen. The place would glow like a Christmas Tree on crack if a blue light is lit.

Silence stretched on, and it was awkward beyond words. Ly was so still and quiet I was sure he self-combusted into a pile of ash. Nevertheless, I refused to turn around to give him the satisfaction that his presence was noticed. Or at least I tried to not show how much Ly could stir me. He needn't know my hands were clammy, my throat was dry, and my heart heavy.

"Well?" I prompted, "If there is nothing for you to say, then excuse me, I am missing an awesome party."

A sigh escaped Ly, "When you turn around and look me in the eye when you speak, then I will begin."

I inhaled through my teeth, seeing red. Turning around, seething, I spat, "You presumptuous asshole!"

Ly was leaning on the door with a slight, even with the mask, I could notice a victorious smile playing on his lips, "Perhaps, but I made you turn, didn't I?"

I clenched and unclenched my fist while breathing heavily, so furious at him that I couldn't find an answer. Without a syllable passing through my lips, I exhaled through my nostrils like an irritated bull and crossed my arms.

Ly undid the knot on his Venetian mask, "It has come to my attention that a misunderstanding has occurred."

I did not just hear those words out of his mouth.

A nerve in my left eye began to twitch. "I beg your pardon?" I haltingly inquired.

With a wince like it physically hurt him, Ly tried to repeat the horrid sentence.

Lifting my hand, I stopped his attempt. "I heard you just fine the first time."

His blond brows lifted toward his hairline, "Then what is it that you do not understand?"

"That you have the balls, the audacity to say what you just did and that you actually thought I needed to hear it again," I whispered, not trusting myself to stay calm if I spoke any louder; my hand was already itching to do something violent.

At the look of utter dumbfoundedness on Lys's face, I knew it was as if I was trying to explain to the barren land of Carthage why it was good to start growing plants. Utterly pointless.

"What misunderstanding are you referring to, Ly?" Words came through my clenched teeth harshly.

Looking very uncomfortable momentarily, Ly cleared his throat. "The one that resulted in you being implicated—"

"Implicated?" I interrupted, "You mean accused of something I did not do."

"Yes."

With his confirmation, silence came over us once more— with my eyes on his and his on mine. Words were not necessary; they were more of a nuisance in this situation. In such conversations, a lot can be revealed about power dynamics. Here, neither Ly nor I were willing to be inferior. Neither of us backing down was finally equally matched. Ly had the power of an apology, and I had the power of refusal. Our eyes both shined with a conviction that the other party was in the wrong. It remained to be seen whose pride would be wounded by the end.