We stood there for a while longer. Drake, lost in thought. Me, admiring my handiwork. Now, don't get me wrong, I am totally against condoning murder or, in this case, vehicular manslaughter with a side of accidental flambé, but this was self-defense. It's not like those fellas came knocking on my door to try and sell me Girl Scout cookies and I sent them navigating into the crater of death.
Although, I wish they had. I love Girl Scout cookies and I could really go for a sleeve of Thin Mints right about now. Yes...I eat them a sleeve at a time. Don't you dare sit there and look at me like you don't. Those cookies are like drugs and Thin Mints are my crack. You stand between me and a box and you're going to get shanked...just saying.
My stomach growled. At least I think it was my stomach. Either it was that or a low 747 just did a flyby. Drake turned to me with his eyes wide at the flamboyant sounds coming from my midsection.
"That was my stomach," I instantaneously defended, wrapping a hand around my middle trying to stifle the noise.
I didn't want him thinking I farted or something. I have no idea why as women we always feel the need to hide or shield our bodily functions from men. But, for whatever the reason...it's ingrained so deeply into our genetic make-up, we would rather blow up like a Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade balloon floating like Snoopy above the crowds than to emit a fart in front of a man. Let alone to do it in front of a smoking hot man you barely know.
Unless you've been dating for a while, then I say let it rip. Nothing says you're the love of my life than relaxing and tooting out your personal love song. It shows you're comfortable with them and you have chosen them to be your "one". Extra girlfriend points if you can make them gag a little.
"You're hungry," he muttered, opening his trench coat and slipping his guns into the hostlers hidden underneath.
My mouth watered, but not at the thought of food. I just received my first unobstructed glorious peek at Fang's ass uncovered by the coat. I had imagined it would be mighty fine, but nothing prepared me to see it wrapped in leather like a second skin.
Two perfectly formed mounds of firm joy. It was so perfect, I almost saluted it. I tried to avoid looking at it, but I only succeeded for a split second before my eyeballs were glued back and happily ogling away.
"Yeah...hungry." I nodded, doing a perfect impression of a bobble head.
The coat slipped back into place, breaking off my hypnotic ass trance.
"It'll be dawn soon." Drake looked up at the sky and then over at me. I discreetly wiped my mouth in case there was any traces of drool. "We need to make it to a safe house before sun comes up."
"Safe house?" I blinked, trying to erase visions of a vampire calendar featuring Fang and focus on what he was telling me.
But really? I could make a small fortune if I could snap twelve shots of him. I started sweating at the thought of him in a Santa hat wearing nothing but a smile and holding a sprig of mistletoe. Possibly posed in front of a roaring fire on a bear skinned rug. The firelight hugging his toned skin...
"Are you alright, Red? You don't look so hot," he asked, looking at me intently.
Wrong! I was feeling plenty hot at the moment. Pulling at my turtleneck, I cleared my throat and shook my head until my little fantasy disappeared faster than an shaken Etch-A-Sketch.
"I'm fine, Fang."
"Drake."
"Whatever," I muttered, heading for Gizmo. I could feel my face burning in embarrassment. Never a good look for a redhead. I needed to get some AC cranking, pronto.
I opened the driver's side door and it immediately slammed shut, Drake's meaty palm keeping me from opening it again as he propped up against it.
"If you think I am letting you drive again in this death trap, you are out of your fucking mind." He glared down at me, leaning deep into my personal space. His frosty eyes glinting off of Gizmo's chrome.
"I don't remember asking you to come along," I snapped. Seriously? I saved his life and all he can do is bitch about my driving. It was my mad skills that saved his flawless ass. Talk about your lack of gratitude.
"Like it or not, Red, you are stuck with me." He put his sculpted face inches from mine. "Do think they won't come after you?" He pointed over to the smoke wafting up from the cliff. "There's more of them where they came from." Straightening up to his full towering height, he crossed his beefy arms over his massive chest and scowled down at me. "You want to live, then you need me."
Usually I found gloating unattractive, but...sigh...even Fang managed to pull that off with sexy ease. Drat!
My stomach howled again in protest. This time, to my horror, I could have sworn it said "Feed me Seymour". I wished I had thought to grab that damn yipping Chihuahua before taking this road trip from hell with a backseat driving Nazi. Maybe I could have snatched a couple of cats, some guinea pigs and few gerbils and made a travel trail mix.
I sighed, meeting his stare head on. "Listen you plasmaterian, this is my car and the only person who is going to drive it is me. Capeesh?"
"Siete la maggior parte frustrante femmina." He ran a hand through his hair.
I have no idea what he said, but I did know it was Italian and it was...freaking hot. It made you think of sex, candle-lit dinners and spaghetti and meatballs. Okay...so maybe the last part was because I was starving or I possibly got it confused with Lady and the Tramp.
"I'm glad we worked that out," I said, shoving him out of the way and sending him stumbling backwards a good hundred feet.
I didn't feel the least bit bad about it either. Hunger was making me bitchy. Opening the door, I eased myself in behind the wheel, giving it a little caress. "That's right Gizmo, momma isn't going to let the big mean vampire drive you," I cooed under my breath. Cars needed reassurance too.
The big, bad and mad vampire was back in a flash with a vengeance, ripping Gizmo's door open.
"Get out," he snarled.
I growled right back at him. A deep, throaty Pitbull you stole my bone, kind of growl. "You don't like my driving? Fine, you can walk!" I pushed him out of the way and closed the door again, this time locking it.
Fang paced outside the car, cussing in a mixture of Russian, Italian and I think that last one might have been German. If he wanted to get me out of this car, he would have to rip the door off its hinges and if he did that...heaven help him. I may not know karate or jujitsu...but I knew crazy and I wasn't afraid to use it.
I sat waiting. I was tempted to start the car and take off, but I had a feeling that would probably be pushing one button too many and send Fang into nuclear destruction. No need to send him into a vampire version of Chernobyl, so I spent my time applying a coat of lip-gloss while he fumed.
Finally, the passenger door opened and he folded himself in half to get in. It still made me giggle watching him struggle, but I managed to keep it under wraps. Laughing at him right now would be the equivalent of poking a grizzly bear fresh out of hibernation in the eyeball.
"Where to Drake?" I asked sweetly. See? I can be nice. I even called him by his real name, extra brownie points for me.
The thought of brownie anything had my stomach rumbling loud enough to mimic Mount Vesuvius and give the people of Pompeii nightmare flashbacks.
"I suppose we had better feed you." He grinned and winked at me while I turned beet red. "Head north. There's a safe house about 80 miles from here." He leaned forward, peering through the windshield at the sky again. "You need to step on it. We only have a couple of hours before dawn."
Beaming, I nodded my head. Step on it was the only way I knew how to drive. To me there were only two speeds...fast and faster. Starting Gizmo, I pulled out onto the road and looked right and then left. Then right and left, again. Yeah...I had no clue which way north was. It's not like I was born with a compass in my head or had Daniel Boone blood in my veins. This is what GPS was for.
"Um...which way is north?" I asked, mortification making it come out squeaky. Drat! I sounded like Minnie Mouse inhaling helium.
Fang threw his head back and let out a howl of laughter, his fangs flashing white in the glow of the dashboard light. I would have been humiliated further if it hadn't been for my libido getting kicked into overdrive from the sound of it. It was such a magnificent reverberation, you couldn't help but smile and wish you were a little bit naked.
Still chuckling, he pointed to the left. "That way."
Pursing my lips at being laughed at, I zipped out and sped down the road, leaving a plume of gravel and dust behind me.
Silence filled the interior for a good couple of miles. A new record for me. I'm not usually the silent type. Quiet is boring and so is normal for that matter. I punched on the stereo and soon Beds Are Burning from Midnight Oil started blaring. Perfect head jamming music.
"How can we dance when our Earth is tuuuuurning! How do we sleep while our beds are buuuuurning!" I belted out the lyrics while drumming out the beat on the steering wheel.
A hand slapped over my mouth cutting off my next rendition of the chorus. "You sound like a dying walrus," Fang hissed, his face contorted in pain as he shut off the radio.
I pulled his palm away from my mouth before I was tempted to lick it and see if he tasted as good as he smelled. "You know, the highway is right out there. You can pack your shit and hit it anytime now," I huffed.
"Keep singing and I will gladly jump."
"That bad, huh?" I don't know why I asked. I already knew the answer.
I was the only girl in the history of high school to get kicked out of choir and told to try woodworking instead. That was until I accidently buzzed cut part of Mr. Godfrey's pinky off. I still don't understand what the big deal was. It was only a piece of it...and let's face it...it was a pinky, not something vital like a leg or anything he would actually miss.
"Let's put it this way..." he paused, giving me a serious look. "You have officially invented a new way of torture which should be outlawed by the Geneva Convention and I think my ears are bleeding."
"Hardee-har-har," I groused.
"You asked." He shrugged a massive shoulder, turning back to the window.
More silence. I started twitching in the seat as the miles passed in a blur of white lines.
"What is a safe house?" I blurted.
"It's a place where vampires can go to escape daylight," he answered, still staring out into the darkness.
"So, that part is true? Vampires can't be out in the sun?"
"Obviously."
"Well, you are a fountain of information." I sulked. Leave it to me to get the moody vampire.
He turned and looked at me. "How did you survive?"
"Survive what?" I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at him.
"Daylight. How did you manage it if you didn't know about the effects of the sun on our kind?" His gaze drifted up and down over me. Judging me.
I didn't appreciate the tone of his voice or the Judge Wapner appraisal. "I am not an idiot you know!" I snapped. Of course, there was no way in hell I was going to tell him I spent my first day as a vampire hiding behind a couch Googling like a madwoman.
He snorted. Loudly.
Okay...that's it! Slamming on the brakes, I sent him sailing into the dash. The resounding thunk of his head hitting the plastic made me feel better and I smiled.
"What the hell!" he barked, rubbing the growing red spot.
"Oops, my bad...a deer," I muttered, ignoring his snarling as I shifted and started back down the road.
This time, I embraced the silence like a long lost lover until my gut decided to interrupt and started singing the song of its people.
"Don't worry, Red. We're almost there," Drake said, giving me a sympathetic look that almost made me feel sorry for smashing his head into the dashboard.
I probably would have apologized if I wasn't worried about how he planned on feeding me. Unless he had a possum in his pocket, I was SOL. The thought of having to feed the "vampire way" made my stomach roll. Images of him holding down a hapless victim while I gave a perfect stranger one hell of a hicky, made me shiver.
"Turn right up there." Drake pointed at a small dirt road up ahead.
Turning, I gritted my teeth. I'd been so focused on other things, I hadn't noticed we were out in the middle of the boonies. Trees, rocks and the great outdoors...wonderful. I rolled my eyes. My idea of camping is a hotel with a spa and room service. I never understood the desire for people to spend a fortune on gear to live like a homeless person for a week.
Eventually, after having every organ in my body rearranged by the washboard joke of a road that was more of trail if anything, a tiny log cabin appeared. Holy Moses on a pogo stick! We went back in time and ended up at Laura Ingells's place.