Chapter Two
“Hey.”
I whirl around, shooting the vampire straight in the heart. He goes down, eyes draining of life. I watch as his body goes limp, and his left arm twitches for a second before laying flat on the black, cold, cement. They all go a different way; some yell out, some glare, some just die.
65.
I step over the body, my black boots thudding against the hard ground. I never wear anything else. They go with my black jeans, and that’s where I store extra ammo and weapons. My hostler stays neatly tucked through the belt loop of my jeans. I usually wear shirts that are dark colored; this one happens to be the same shade of the night sky tonight.
My dark brown hair I keep down. I never put it up. I have to keep it down and long in order to stay alive. Vampires will take no hesitation in biting me and sucking all my blood out. I haven’t put my hair in a ponytail since I was three years old. I’m going to keep it that way.
I’m somewhere in the backstreets of Virginia. It’s a little neighborhood but the outskirts are filled with clubs and drunk people. They make the easiest target for vampires. Drunk people, dark clubs, dark nights, they fall for anything. Which is why I don’t get drunk. The next easiest target would be dumber or less athletic people. Can’t think straight and they can’t out run them.
Vampires are stronger, but they have the same reflexes as humans do. Like I said, the only advantage is that they’re stronger. I’m glad they can’t move faster than us; I’d probably be dead already.
As I walk back to my hotel room, the crappy little one I’m staying in just for the night, I can’t help but think I’m being followed. I keep looking around for footsteps or a pair of eyes but I get nothing.
So I get to my room, sighing, and flicking on the light. I kick my boots off, placing my extra weapons on the little table next to me. I carefully remove my holster, placing it underneath my pillow. I don’t trust anyone. A vampire can come seek revenge in the middle of the night; it’s rare though, because I never leave a trace.
I fling my shirt and jeans off, changing into comfortable sweats and a baggy t-shirt. This is the only time I’m allowed to relax, but barely. I still have to worry about vampires. It’s not like they don’t know who kills them. If you’re the number one vampire hunter in America, you’re bound to be the number one enemy of vampires.
I cuddle into my bed, almost immediately passing out.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Around three in the morning, I’m awoken by a sound. I keep my eyes shut though, just in case there is someone here. My hand is already moving from underneath my pillow, gripping onto the sword. It’s longest and I can do some damage with it. If I grab the gun, I’m still half-asleep, and my aim would be completely off.
The sound again. The sound of someone shuffling around. I feel someone touch my hair - I mean stroke it. I can’t stay fake-asleep any longer. I open my eyes and thwack the sword onto the person’s arm.
The person hisses out and I automatically know it’s a vampire. I jump out of bed, going to hit them again. But the sword is caught just as fast as I threw it. The lights are off, I can’t see who it is. From the sounds of it, it’s a guy. I pull the sword back because the grip was loosened on it. I dodge past him and turn the lights on.
The guy has dark black hair, four or five inches taller than me, and a perfect jaw. Ace Caplin.
I haven’t seen him in a week. I get a trace on him and then the next thing I know it’s gone like the wind. “You!” I gasp, gripping my sword harder. A thrill goes across my body. Like I’ve been wanting to see him. Like I’ve been missing him.
His arm is bleeding. I made a long gash from his elbow to his hand. He looks like he’s in blinding pain, and for a second, I feel my heart go out to him. Like I should feel guilty. But that’s washed away the next second.
“Damn, sweetheart, I wasn’t expecting that,” He admits, groaning a little bit at the sight of his arm. It’s gushing and I know soon that he’s going to feel weak.
I throw my sword up. “I’ll do it again, you fucker.”
Despite his pain, he still manages to laugh. “Don’t. I need my other arm.” He winces, looking up at me. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”
I growl at him, ready to lunge. I’m just not sure where. “You didn’t. I’m always prepared.”
His eyes travel down to my attire. I look like a normal, teenage girl. I’m 19 years old, this is how I should look. Not dressed for killing vampires. “You don’t look prepared.”
I lunge at him. He grabs the sword before I can swing, and my eyes widen at how fast he is. He uses his good arm this time. I don’t have any other weapons close by. So I yank the sword back, knowing it’ll do no good. It almost slices his hand, but he manages to avoid it. I always wear a brass knuckle because they do more damage than normal punches. I push him out of my way, going to get it, but I’m swooped back.
He presses me down onto the bed. I make a noise and kick his gut. It barely did anything though. His blood is dripping onto my stomach. “Sweetheart, please stop fighting me. I don’t want to hurt you.”
I don’t say anything. Instead, I spit up in his face. I try to use it as a distraction and wiggle away from him, but it does nothing. He just simply wipes it off, staring down at me with a glare. “That wasn’t very nice.”
“Get off of me!” I shout at him, trying to kick away. If I could just reach behind my pillows…
“You know,” He starts, his voice dropping to a husky tone, “I actually really like this position that we’re in.”
I freeze, staring at him. I’ve never heard a vampire talk like that before. Usually they don’t have time. “I - ” Pause. I could use this to my advantage. “ - agree.”
It throws him for a loop, but just for a second. I smirk up at him, trying to look seductive. I know I probably just look like I’m constipated. But before I can do anything, his head is near mine, kissing the hollow of my neck. I completely freeze up and I’m ready to scream my lungs out, but I stop myself before I do. His grip is loosening on me as his lips travel to my jaw line.
I grit my teeth, my hands curling into fists. I’m able to move up a little bit without him noticing. I throw one of my hands up, underneath the pillow. The other one goes into his hair to keep him occupied. If he thinks I’m enjoying this, he must be ill. I’m not enjoying this. I’m sure of it. And I’m also suppressing my moan when his lips kiss underneath my chin.
I grip onto the knife tighter, forcing me back to reality, slowly bringing it down towards me. He doesn’t notice. He’s too busy kissing my collar bone. A shiver passes through me at the thought. He has the open chance of biting my neck. It’s like having a venomous snake hanging over your shoulders.
As slow as possible, I bring it over his head, ready to jerk down. As soon as I do so, he’s gone in a flash, and I almost shove it in my own face. I stare up at my hand for a second, eyes wide, heavily breathing. I sit up quickly, jerking around to grab my gun. I fly under the pillows and grab it, cocking it and holding it out. I scramble onto my knees on the bed, looking around for the guy.
He’s standing in the open doorway of my hotel room. He’s smirking, but his eyes still look…dazed. “You’re smart, Scar.”
My eyebrows raise to my hairline, scoffing. “Scar? Did you ditch the whole sweetheart act?”
He shrugs, still smirking. But it looks forced. “I guess so.”
And then he’s gone before I have the chance to shoot him.
________________________________________________
My spring break consists of watching NCIS, CSI, Criminal Minds, and game shows including but are not limited to Wheel of Fortune, Family Feud, Jepoardy, and Who Wants to be A Millionaire. I have no life, thank you very much. (P.S. I'm sick)