I couldn't move, but the darkness had lifted. Vitor's bite throbbed through me, as delicious as trans fats mixed with sugar and something you know you'll regret later.
Vampires were never the good-for-you kind of delicious. They were killing machines with a penchant for elaborate schemes. Yet even though I knew better, I was in a stupor where I couldn’t think about anything but him.
And that vision. What the hell had that been?
Vitor waved his hand in front of my face. “Sylvie? Miss Orion?”
My eyes locked on his. “Huh?” The headache began pounding again, a bass drum of detonating doom.
He frowned. “You are blood struck.”
I wanted to smack him, but couldn’t muster the energy to do so. The magic I’d done earlier on top of feeding a vampire had likely depleted my strength more than usual. I was not myself.
Vitor put a finger in his mouth and pricked his finger with a fang. He then proffered his finger to me, bright blood welling up. "Here. It will help.”
My lips closed around his finger as he slid it into my mouth. I sucked, barely registering the metallic bitterness of the blood he fed me while also being very aware of the sexual symbolism.
I swallowed and slowly came back to myself. It was like waking up after an unplanned nap. I was groggy and lacked mental clarity, but at least I wasn’t fixated on him like a schoolgirl in the throes of her first crush. As an extra bonus, the headache receded.
I pulled away, and putting a hand to my mouth, I stared at him. “What did you do to me?”
In response, he drew me close and seized my lips with his, sending zippy little tingles from my head to my toes. At first I didn’t respond, but then I couldn’t hold back.
Just like that, we were kissing each other. There was a connection between us, hot as a lightning. I didn’t understand it, but I couldn’t ignore it, either.
Mustering my resolve, I fought back my instincts and pushed him away. I wiped my mouth with my sleeve. “What was that about?” My heart pounded triple time, flushing me with heat.
Vitor smiled, but his eyes were sad. They were a light hazel and glittered like topaz even in the shadows of the warehouse. “I must apologize. I became weak and took advantage. It is just...” He trailed off, his expression stricken.
“What?” My body burned for him still, awake with desire and on high alert. Yet, I knew he was a stranger, knew he was not someone I would ever be with.
“You remind me of her.” He touched my face, tracing the curve of my cheek.
There was such longing in his eyes that I couldn’t help but empathize. “Your witch?”
He nodded. “She was the love of my life.”
"And that...vision...dream." I waved my hand. "What was that?"
"A memory of a time when we were happy."
"That was the king of France, right? You were in his court?" I didn't think I'd ever met a vampire so old before. The American ones were usually no more than two-hundred years old.
"Yes. We had business there. A pack of werewolves were attacking people on the road between Versailles and Paris. We were trying to intervene, to save them from execution."
“Why?” I shifted away and sat across from him.
"A witch had charmed them into serving her. We dealt with her, but the wolves stood accused. We managed to convince the king of their innocence."
"And your witch? What happened to her?"
He looked away. “She grew old and died.”
My eyes widened. “You didn’t turn her?”
Vitor gave a slow shake of his head. “You forget the rules. You may not teach me magic, and I cannot bring you over. We are all forbidden to share our powers.”
“Oh, wow.” I sat in silence for a moment. He was right. Turning a witch was forbidden, but there were rumors that it still happened. I hadn't thought about the rules because it had never come up. I lived a vampire free life by the rules and didn’t have to think about limits.
Speaking of limits, humans would not be happy to learn the neighborhood supernatural bounty hunter had left their officers tied up in a warehouse. I needed to call a clean-up crew that wouldn't want to eat them.
I called Detective St. John, who answered on the first ring. "What's up, Sylvie? You find Thorne already?" He barked the question at me.
"No. Not yet. I've got a...situation." I tried to ease him into things. Blurting out the details without any lead up seemed wrong.
"What is it?"
"I've got a few officers who need a little help."
His voice sharpened. "What happened?"
"Let's just say they aren't fans and I had to cuff them for my safety."
That earned me a long-suffering sigh. "Sylvie—"
I held up a hand even though he couldn't see me. "No. Don't 'Sylvie' me. This was pure self-defense. These two need some sensitivity training. They were more than willing to kill me."
"I take it you don't want to stick around to make a statement?"
"I can't." I looked to Vitor. "I've got a hot lead on Sheridon Thorne."
He started to argue with me, but I cut him off. "Just come and get these two geniuses. I'll do any paperwork later."
St. John didn't say anything.
"I'm not a babysitter, Detective. Send your guys to deal with these two or they'll be tied up here for who knows how long."
"You have no idea how much this will make the chief yell at me."
"Tell him they only have themselves to blame. I showed them my ID, and they tried to shoot me."
"Sorry to hear that." There was quiet resignation in his voice now.
"Just deal with it so I can get Thorne." I rattled off the address and then hung up. I turned to Vitor. "Come on. Let's get out of here."
"So you accept my offer?"
"I don't know, yet." I headed for the door. "We need to talk and it's not safe here."
He came after me, his gait smooth and his face flushed with my blood. It was like he'd never been shot. Some supes had all the luck.
I shook my head. "You have no idea how many healing draughts that taste like troll ass with a of side herpes I'd have to drink to heal like you just did, do you?"
Vitor shrugged as we entered the parking lot. "I can give you more of my blood if you want. It imparts certain...advantages."
"No, thanks." I shuddered and stepped over a pothole on the way to my hearse. The parking lot had been paved once upon a time. Now it was pockmarked by deep potholes and webbed with cracks. Scattered lumps of crumbling concrete posed an additional tripping hazard. I kicked a big chunk out of the way, grateful for my steel-toe boots.
"This is your car?" Vitor gave me a skeptical look.
True, my black hearse had a big dent in the passenger door and the bumper was held on with bungee cords—a new development I would fix just as soon as I dealt with Thorne. It had definitely seen better days and was a few years shy of qualifying as a historical vehicle. Still, it was big, reliable, and no one tried to steal it, which was important in Cleveland.
"Nice cars get noticed."
"So do trash heaps."
"Oh, you're charming." I jiggled the key in the lock on the driver's side—it tended to stick—and opened the door. I hit the unlock button. "Hop in."
He opened the passenger door and stared into the front seat, his mouth pinched and his eyes narrow.
"What? You got bad memories of a hearse or something?"
He just continued to stare.
"Seriously?" I waved my hand in front of his face. "You died, crawled out of a grave, eat people to live, and this car is a problem?" I stuck the key in the ignition and turned. The engine sputtered for a second and then settled into a loud purr. "Unless you've got a limo on call, Mr. Prima Donna, I suggest you get in. Let's go before more cops with itchy trigger fingers show up, mmmkay?"
He took in my poop emoji seat covers and the overflowing caddy between the front passenger and driver seats. I had a precarious pyramid going, one that I had to hold in place with one hand whenever I made sharp turns. I liked to pack for bear.
A prepared bounty hunter always gets their fugitive.
I gunned the motor, and the deep rumble finally got my new vampire friend moving. He climbed in and sank into the seat, reaching back for the seatbelt. "I guess this will do."
"It's old and beat up, but it still works." I held up a finger. "And there's nothing dead in here except you. I'd call that a win." Locking the doors, I put the hearse in gear and spun around until the front pointed toward the exit. Despite taking it easy on the accelerator, we bounced in and out of potholes on our way to the street, which was in marginally better condition than the lot.
We can't all look perfect and live forever. Not even if you're made of steel.