“The problem is … I think you were bitten by a vampire before we met.”
Oh, for Pete’s sake. Sex with an angel, now this.
“See, vampires are related to the Serim, in a fashion, but their curse is different. They crave the blood, a darker, deeper hunger than that of the Serim, who simply crave the flesh. They traded for that, long ago.”
I was almost done with my salad and stole a french fry off his plate. Noah was still talking, and I forced myself to listen.
“… a vampire’s bite is an unnatural thing,” he was saying. “It does something to the mind of the victim-it clouds the mind so that memories and inhibitions are fogged. It also fills the victim with intense desire and longing for the next few hours. Those who are heavily drained are the most intensely affected, before they drop dead a few hours later. Like you.”
I paused, another purloined fry midway to my mouth. A feeling of dread slid into my stomach, and the fries no longer looked appetizing. My disbelief had boiled away, leaving only an uncomfortable feeling prickling at the back of my neck. It made sense-the clouded memory, the sexual demon I had been instead of my normal nerdy, inhibited self.
But that didn’t explain why I had awakened in a Dumpster. I picked another piece of garbage out of my hair, pointing at it.
“I don’t know why you were in the garbage. Moreover, I don’t know why you were fed on to the point of sexual madness.”
I blushed at his frankness. My glasses were sliding off the end of my nose and I shoved them back up violently. Right, sexual madness. Sounds just like me.
“Most vampires take only a little from their victims. Think of it as an aphrodisiac, but the memory is clouded just enough so that the victim can’t remember the evening. You, however, were drained to the point of insatiability, and, er, that’s when I met you.”
Oh boy, here we go.
Noah raked his fingers through his hair again, an obvious nervous habit. “The Serim feed off the desire of others. It was time for me to feed, and you were willing-very willing.” His eyes flickered blue again.
I put my napkin down, feeling sick.
“And I think that because of what happened between us, you got up later, maybe to answer the call of your vampire master. He finished the job, then left you in the Dumpster. And since you’ve awakened, I can only assume one thing, given the … nature of your desires.” His silver eyes searched my face, and I averted my gaze. I couldn’t look him in the face.
“You’ve risen again as a succubus.”
What? That was the best he could come up with? He’d actually had me going there for a while. I crossed my arms over my chest and glared.
“I’m serious,” he said, defending himself. “You won’t notice anything at first, but you’ll see some changes start to happen, and I don’t want you to be alarmed.”
Alarmed?
All I wanted was to get out of there.
“You’re not saying anything. What do you think?”
I straightened my glasses and opened my mouth to speak, testing out my vocal cords by clearing my throat. That worked. He must be done, then. “What do I think? I think you’re crazy, that’s what I think.”
He looked disappointed, and I felt almost like I’d just kicked a puppy. “You don’t believe me,” he said.
“Let me get this straight. You’ve just told me that I was bitten by a vampire, had sex with an angel, then I died, but I’ve risen again as a succubus. And you’re wondering why I don’t believe you?”
“I see your point.”
“Darn right. What is a succubus, anyway?” I had my suspicions, but I wanted to hear him say it.
“An immortal creature that feeds off sexual desire. The object of sexual fantasy.” He sighed. “I’m afraid you’re one of us now.”
I waved a hand, cutting him off. “Save it for the chicks in the bar. I’m out of here.” I stood up again, hoping that he wouldn’t stop me.
He didn’t. I was out of my seat and nearly to the door when he spoke again. “Wait. Before you go …”
I felt my feet slide to an involuntary halt and I turned. “What? What now?”
He merely held a business card out to me. “Put this in your purse. If you notice anything odd going on, give me a call. I can help you with everything that’s going to happen. Believe me.”
My fingers stretched out and took the card of their own accord and I put it into my purse, just as he’d directed me. “I wouldn’t hold your breath if I were you.”
“Just call me if you need help, okay? And don’t call the police. They’ll just make a mess of things.”
Real comforting words. I stomped out of the diner without a backward glance.
The streets were crowded with pedestrians, the skies bright with midday sunshine, and the wind crisp and biting. My head immediately began to feel clearer now that I was out of Noah’s vicinity.
I raised a hand in the air and hailed a taxi. I just wanted to go home and take a nice long shower and forget that this experience had ever happened. I’d get into my pajamas, curl up in bed, and not think about sexy hot men that I’d slept with-or their big packages.
Or which one of us was the crazy one.
CHAPTER FOUR
Somewhere between 3:00 and 4:00 a.m., I decided that having no dreams was worse than having dreams about Noah. I hadn’t slept a wink in hours of tossing and turning. I chalked it up to the weird day I’d had, and dragged myself out of bed and into the shower for a third time. Showering always helped me think.
The hot water did a lot to rejuvenate me, and I decided to head to work early and catch up on some paperwork. Maybe one of the higher-ups would notice that I was putting my nose to the grindstone and I’d get considered for the next promotion.
Fat chance, but I didn’t have anything better to do with myself.
I did, however, encounter a bit of a problem when I dressed. As I was putting on my bra, I noticed something awful. I had gained weight again. My boobs were spilling over the top of my bra in a rather distressing way. You know, when you put on a bra that’s way too tight and you end up with the quadra-boob? I glared at my four breasts in the mirror, vowed to eat more salad, and tried on another bra. And another. And another. But even my “fat and bloated” bra felt like a tourniquet. Mind you, this wasn’t a bad thing for a B-cup like me, just depressing. I put on my elastic-waist “fat” pants, struggled into a formerly loose-fitting shirt, threw a jacket over the ensemble, then took a quick look in the mirror. No wonder I only attracted the psychos. I yanked my wet hair into a ponytail and headed for the bus stop, determined not to dwell on that depressing thought.
The busses of New City are nice and clean, nothing like New York. Then again, New City was way Midwest, and I think that had a lot to do with it. At any rate, I got to work early and began to sort through my in-box, overflowing thanks to my unexpected absence.
My boss came in a shade after 7:00 a.m. and stopped by my desk immediately.
“Hi,” I said, looking up from the folder on my desk and pasting a fake smile on my lips.
Julianna took one look at me and gave a haughty sniff. “Did you dye your hair?”
That was an odd conversation starter. I touched my hair curiously. “Er, no. Does it look darker?”
She shook her head at me and took a sip of her latte. “It’s a perfectly garish shade of red, if you ask me. But I suppose you didn’t, did you?” Julianna gave me a tight-lipped smile and turned away. “Do remember that this is a museum and not a brothel.”
Insulted, I made a quick run to the restroom to check it out. Huh. It did look a little brighter than usual, and shiny as could be. I was rather pleased. Maybe the new shampoo I’d bought was working wonders on my lackluster mane.