Page 16 of Vameer

My clothes are truly, actually, really wet.

Reaching down, I tug on the hem of my jean shorts, where the damp denim rubs uncomfortably against my skin.

My fingers pluck at the front of my shirt. The clinging material shows off the outline of my bra underneath.

I was so cold.

On that mountain. In that cave. It was so cold.

I tilt my head to the side. And I narrow my eyes.

Am I steaming?

I start to tug at my shirt, pulling it up to rip it off.

Then I pause.

I need evidence. Photos.

I rush the few steps over to my little table and pick up my phone. But… What am I going to do? Take a photo of myself in the mirror, showing that my clothes are wet? And then what? Show it to who? Tell them what?

Hey, so I’d like to make a police report. Yeah, I was in my apartment, then I cut my finger, licked my blood off my finger. Then I blinked, and I was somewhere super cold on the side of a mountain in a rainstorm. Uh-huh. Yep. And then I found a sleeping man. But I think he might actually be a vampire. My blood dripped into his open mouth. He woke up. I fell onto my butt. And landed in my apartment.

I set my phone down without taking a photo.

I can’t tell anyone.

The weight filling my rib cage pulses.

I stare at my reflection.

His eyes were solid black.

Something was gleaming at the top of his head.

The man in the cave was a vampire.

I close my eyes.

Maybe he’s in trouble. Maybe he figured out a way to… summon me, because he needs my help.

I try to focus on his face in my memory.

Try to place his features.

Dark lashes. Strong jaw. Parted lips.

My core clenches. And my hands lift on their own, squeezing my breasts through my shirt.

My eyes snap open.

This is insane.

Spinning away from the mirror, I grip the hem of my shirt and yank it off.

I toss it on the floor as I stride to the bathroom. My bra goes next.

I stop inside the bathroom and shove my shorts down, wiggling my hips to get the wet denim off. Then my panties go.