“As long as I’m not dessert,” I blurted out. I could have bit my own tongue off. I stared at him nervously.
But he smiled, one of his heart-dropping smiles. It reached his eyes and it was like the last rays of sunlight kissed my veins. He opened his mouth, as if there was a comment planted on his lips, but he thought better of it and it was left unspoken. He glanced out the window.
The sky was beautiful tonight. There was a multi-coloured array of pinks and mauves as if perfectly woven by a skilled artisan.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it,” I murmured.
“It is,” he agreed. There was something intimate about his tone that made me glance up.
Karson stared at my face. He seemed to drink in every detail as if I was the sunset, and he the artist.
I could barely draw a breath. His gaze was an invisible finger stroking my skin, wrapping around me and pulling me in. Between my legs vibrated with want. I clenched my knees together to stop the scent drifting to his nostrils. Feeling awkward, I tore my gaze away, pretending the sky held more interest than the man beside me. I turned back to speak, and Karson was gone.
I stared at the door, it was closed. Not only didn’t I realise he’d left, I didn't even hear it close.
I headed to the bathroom and peered in the mirror. My hair was a disaster. Birds would happily build their nest there. I had bags under my eyes and my skin paler than ordinary. No wonder he’d told me to freshen.
I showered, washed my hair and blow dried it a little to remove some of the dampness. I put some makeup on, threw on a skirt and top. I realised my legs needed shaving, glanced at my watch, it was seven twenty-five. If I was fast, I could still be downstairs by seven-thirty.
I got out the razor, cocked my leg on the marble vanity, splashed a bit of cold water on it and slipped the razor up quickly. I grimaced as the razor sheared off skin. It was only a fingernail width in size, but the blood seeped—and continued to seep—like I’d stabbed myself with an inch-thick pocketknife. I sighed. I opened the draws to find a Band-Aid. It was empty. No toothbrush, no perfume, no shaving gear, no moisturiser; nothing. I guessed vampires didn't need any of those things—did they not grow facial hair? It was a weird concept to grasp. Karson always smelled amazing. I assumed it was a perfume, was it possible it was his own natural scent? There were no Band-Aids, no surprises there.
A breath of wind whispered against the back of my neck. Pins prickled down my spine.
I spun, to see Karson behind me.
“Seriously, if you don’t stop doing that, never mind about vampires getting me, you’re going to give me a heart attack!”
“This.” He snapped the shaver from my hand. “Goes in the bin while you are here, do you understand!” He pressed the lid of a little bin with his foot and tossed it in with a look of disgust and anger on his face.
“What?” I stared up wide-eyed, then it dawned on me. He was telling me I wasn’t safe if I bled in front of him. Fighting the urge to step back, my heart beating thickly in my chest, painfullyconscious of the slow trickle of blood running down my shin, I managed to mumble, “Sorry.”
“I can control myself, I have had years of practise, but others cannot, and your scent is enough to drive them wild.” His eyes blazed, hotter than the midsummer sun.
I stood staring at him like he was my high school teacher giving me a rebuke. "How did you even know?"
“I can smell it. Monique and Michael are here, we are waiting for you . . . wipe it off.” He glared at the spot of blood on my leg like it offended him.
“Smell it? Just how good is your sense of smell?” I asked incredulously.
“Better than yours . . . do you have a plaster?”
I shook my head.
He sighed and his eyes softened a fraction. “Mary will have one in the kitchen, wait here.”
Like I was going to go anywhere with blood on my leg and Monique and Michael in the house.
“Jesus, wouldn’t want to do anything as human as bleed,” I muttered, holding the paper hard against the graze.
He came back moments later and handed me a Band-Aid. “Come down when you are ready.”
Which I figured was code for ‘when you have stopped bleeding, human.’
I headed downstairs some ten minutes later. The band aid covered the offending wound. My legs were only half shaved. I heard a chatter of voices coming from the sitting room. I felt my anxiety climb as I neared. Dinner with vampires, would they feast on blood while we ate normal food? The thought was sickening.
Breathe, breathe, breathe.
The chatter stopped and there was a moment of awkward silence when I walked in. Monique and Michael were perched onthe couches opposite each other. It was evident they didn’t want me to hear their topic of conversation—or perhaps I was the topic of conversation. I cleared my throat and clasped my hands together.
