With trembling fingers, I double-lock the door and pull across the safety chain, then collapse on my living room couch, gasping for breath.
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
Chapter 7
Florence | Edinburgh, present day
Biting Damian was wrong. I knew it was, but I couldn’t help myself. Once the taste of his blood hit my tongue and slipped down my throat, I wanted more and more. It was just a moment, but it was enough. He caught a glimpse of my fangs too. Now he’s bolted out the door before I could stop him.Fuck.
There’s only one thing I can do to make this situation right: wipe his memory. But there’s one problem with that: I’ve never done it before.
Panicking, I run for my big book of practical lessons for vampires, heave it out of the bookshelf, and blow the dust off it. The Gothic font is hard to read, so I’ve never really bothered with it much, but I flip to the section I want: Memory Erasure. The first sentence has a foreboding warning:If performed incorrectly,this procedure will result total amnesia. Proceed with caution!
It’s a risk, but I have to try. I can’t let him know about me. I struggle to make out the brief list of instructions, but itseems straightforward. Luckily, Damian’s blood is still in my system. So all I have to do is isolate the memory I want to erase, recite the Lament of Unknowing, and extinguish the candles one by one.
I quickly complete the ritual and sit by the fireplace with bergamot-scented smoke drifting around me, feeling a bit bereft. Now Damian will wake up with a hangover, thinking he had too much to drink after a night out with his mates. He’ll remember my dental appointment, but nothing about asking me out, going on a date with me at the bar, or coming back to my lair—not to mention the biting, bloodsucking, and fangs. He may feel mildly anxious but will put it down to a stressful week at work.It was the right thing to do.
But now I have to face a long, lonely night without a yummy dentist to snuggle up with. And I need to calm down after this harrowing experience. Removing my blouse and skirt, I haul out the Dyson from the armoire and begin hoovering the rug in my corset and stockings. Sadie prefers dancing, and Hester running, but cleaning is my go-to for expending nervous energy. I have a large bag full of eco-friendly sprays and microfibre cloths kept expressly for this purpose.
Hoovering done, I start methodically dusting the mantelpiece.
Wipe.
Wipe.
Wipe.
Speaking of my flatmates, they would be highly amused if they found out I accidentally drank Damian’s blood and he ran away. Sadie especially—I’d get the ‘I told you so’ speech from her, which I really don’t want to hear. So I’m not going to say anything.
But meeting Damian was a bright spot in the decades of darkness, and now even that has been taken away from me. I know already, from the heaviness in my chest, that I’m going to be depressed about this for at least a year until I can see him at my next dental appointment.
Wipe.
Wipe.
Wipe.
Why can’t I have a normal loving relationship with someone I’m attracted to?I bemoan for what feels like the hundredth time this decade.Because you’re a vampire, you ninny. The sooner you get that through your thick skull, the better ...
After I’ve finished cleaning, I unhook my corset, roll down my stockings, and put on a fresh cotton nightgown. Once I’m settled in bed, I bring up the first book of a new spicy paranormal romance series on my Kindle that I’ve been looking forward to sinking my teeth into. This shouldmake me feel a bit better. Reading about vampires freely feeding on humans is my guilty pleasure.
Except I can’t forget about Damian.
My mind wanders as certain juicy scenes replay in my head: the way he moaned when I stroked him and how his heart pumped fiercely—all that lovely blood rushing through his veins. He was putty in my hands.
And his lovely thick cock, oh my god. My pussy starts throbbing just thinking about it.
He was so adorable, worrying that it was too small or weird-looking. I wanted to reassure him that as cocks went, his was five stars, but that would have meant explaining how I could read his thoughts.
Anyway, then I bit him, and he tore off like a frightened rabbit. Remembering that part isn’t good for my mental health. I swipe to the next page and try to focus.
But Damian’s fear was palpable, and the memory of his shocked face is gnawing at me. It hurts that he reacted that way, but I don’t blame him in the slightest. Being confronted with a vampire is challenging at the best of times, and I’m sure when one is latched onto your thigh with your tackle out, it’s downright terrifying. Oh well, he won’t remember anything about our date when he wakes up, so there’s no point wallowing.
***
At 3 a.m., I throw down the Kindle, having devoured the book and been left wanting. There was too much witty banter and not enough bloodsucking for my liking. But the sex scenes were arousing, and it has my mind wandering to Damian again. If I hadn’t bitten him, we might have given each other a satisfying orgasm (even if the condoms didn’t get used,someaction would have been nice), then had a lovely cuddle before he fell asleep in my arms, and I watched over him through the night. The longing for that overwhelms me in its intensity.
To the point that I start fantasising. What if I start over, make another appointment, and encourage Damian to ask me out again? But then instead of biting him, I bring him round veeery slowly to the idea of me being a vampire. He’s into Gothic fiction and horror, so he might be OK with it?
