She stays alive? What did he mean by that? As far as I was concerned, that wasn't even debatable. I huffed, frowning at Fang as he studiously ignored me while he gathered placemats, plates and silverware. A little voice in my head lectured me on the consequences of eavesdropping. Something about eavesdropper's seldom hearing good news...or...I don't know. I wasn't listening to my conscious at the moment.
A little ember of rage burned in my belly and it didn't have anything to do with hunger or the sexy vampire who was suddenly intent on becoming the next Betty Crocker. Why does he get the privilege to decide my fate? Who died and made him boss? I thrummed my fingers noisily on the counter in agitation. Shouldn't I at least have a say in my own demise instead of him and some dude I've never met deciding I perished in a freak gas leak accident in Thumbelina's cottage?
Not that I've ever put much thought into how I would die. Let's face it, it's not one of those subjects you spent a great deal of time pondering about. Besides, I had better things to do. But now that it was out there, I think I should at least get a say in the matter. After all, I was becoming quite the expert in death having done it a few times. Okay...maybe not technically in the toe tag laying on a slab in the morgue sense, but more in the round about away.
There was the whole becoming a member of the undead thing. Yeah, yeah...I'm not really dead, but before I crossed paths with tall, dark and snaggletoothed, I was totally convinced I was. Since I think I handled that situation remarkably well, it makes me a seasoned professional on the subject.
I watched as Fang started piling a mountain of food on plates the size of garbage can lid covers. I suppose, if I was going to bite the bullet, going out in a blaze of glory was pretty cool way to go. It irked me though I wasn't part of the discussion and my whole life had been wiped away at the snap of his fingers and his Merry Maids crew.
What about me? Where would I go? What about my job? What was I supposed to do now? I couldn't very well convince Byron the boob to put me on nightshift if I was supposed to be dead. Although, now that I think about it...it might be kind of fun haunting him. I could do the whole Salem's Lot thing and claw at his windows at night. It would serve him right for being such a jerk.
"Eat up, Red." Fang set a manhole cover filled with food, the thing landing with a thud in front of me.
Sitting down next to me, unaware that I was contemplating stabbing him with my fork, he proceeded to sprinkle a blizzard of salt on top of everything on his plate before taking a half a stick of butter and drowning his steaming baked potato. On top of the melting pile of butter that would make Paula Deen proud, he added a shovel full of sour cream, mashing it all together in a sloshy jumble.
Digging in, he went for the steak first. Slicing a chunk off, he brought it to his mouth. I could see his fangs flash as he wrapped his lips around the tines of the fork and pulled the meat off, chewing thoughtfully before sprinkling on a little more salt.
I was about to say something extraordinarily witty about the dangers of cholesterol, but my brain fizzled to a halt. He ate like a total gentleman, with a grace I've never seen a male species possess. Not only did he have superb table manners which made Emily Post look like slob, but...it was stimulating as hell watching him.
His lips, the fangs, his long fingers working the utensils with elegant precision, the muscles of his jaw as he chewed...it was all...just...wow. He must be amazing in bed. The thought popped into my head like a Jack-in-the-box, springing forward and bouncing around in joyous abandon. My throat went utterly dry.
Two gleaming eyes turned to mine. "What's wrong? Don't you like your steak?" he asked.
I swallowed hard and nodded my head. Picking up my fork, I blindly scooped up a bit of potato, which I immediately dropped in my lap.
He chuckled, but said nothing and returned to his meal. I swiped up the bits of sticky starch off my pants with a napkin and promptly went back to watching him eat. Downright fascinated with every bite he took.
When his tongue snuck out of his mouth to lap up a smidgen of sour cream sitting at the corner of his lips, a primal growl rumbled up my throat and erupted out of my mouth in a combination of a purr and animalistic moan.
He peeked out of the corner of his eye at me and grinned around a bite of juicy tomato which made his lips glisten. I convulsed. "Eat, Melanie." He nodded at my plate. "I can feel your hunger." The accented words were spoken as a low caress, making my body shimmer to life and I had all I could do not to launch myself at him.
Taking a deep breath to still my pounding heart, I ducked my head. Blushing profusely at being caught ogling at him again, I turned my eyes determinedly towards my plate. Picking up my knife and fork, I cut off a corner of my steak and brought it to my mouth, unsure how to tackle it.
Feeding myself was something I had taken for granted for years and did it on a regular basis without giving it much thought. But now, with a mouthful of new hardware, I was trepidatious on how to go about it without turning my bottom lip into a pin cushion from my fangs stabbing it repeatedly as I chewed.
Drake's hand covered mine, gently pulling the fork out of my grasp. Turning toward him, I frowned, but those eyes of his were...gleaming so brightly, I completely forgot what planet I was on.
"Here, let me help," he purred, lifting the bit of meat to my mouth. "Open, Melanie."
At the sound of my name dripping off his lips, I dropped my mouth open as if I was one of those ventriloquist puppets and he was the master of pulling my strings. Tenderly he placed the fork in my mouth. As soon as the meat hit my tongue, natural instinct took over and I dragged it off the tines as he lazily pulled the fork across my lips.
I chewed without thinking. Well...okay...I was thinking, but it had absolutely nothing to do with food. My eyes stayed glued to his diamond stare, unable to pull away. Swallowing, I forced the bite down my throat. He grinned at me. All white teeth and glowing eyes. His fangs long and strangely...appealing.
"I think I can feed myself now, thanks," I muttered, snatching my fork back. It took a herculean effort, but I finally managed to pull my gaze away from his. The whole "let me feed you" scene infusing my face with heat and making me tingle in places I wasn't aware a person could actually tingle.
He stared at me for another second or two, then laughed. His deep baritone not helping me settle down my girly bits which were still all a twitter. They wanted to do very naughty things with tall, dark and sinister. Hell...naughty, boring...it didn't matter as long as it was with him. Sighing, I turned back to my plate. The man seriously made me want to shave my legs, like every day. Stabbing a piece of tomato, I popped it into my mouth and moodily chewed.
"Who's Listerine?" I figured I would use diversion tactics to get my genitals to behave in a more ladylike fashion.
"Lucien." He corrected, getting up and selecting a bottle of wine from the fridge. Holding it up, he raised an inquisitive brow at me making my stomach flutter. I hated that eyebrow.
I shrugged my shoulders. I wasn't much of a drinker, but right now, a glass of wine sounded like a good idea. Maybe I could inebriate the damn butterflies enough to stop them from reenacting Top Gun in my gut every time he looked at me. Hopefully, with enough alcohol I could get them to crash and burn for the rest of the evening.
"Lucien works with me for the Colony," he explained as he poured a deep red wine into two wine goblets the size of a gold fish bowl. Seriously...do giants live here?
"Colony?"
He pushed my glass towards me as he brought his to his lips and took a sip. Drat! Wasn't there anything this man could do that didn't remind me of sex? I snorted. Probably not. Chances were he looked incredible just flossing his teeth. Grabbing my glass, I sniffed it and took a tentative taste. It wasn't Diet Coke, but it would do.
Sitting back down, he resumed his meal. "The Colony is a community where vampires can live in peace. We banded together centuries ago."
Images of hippies, Woodstock, bell bottom pants, go-go boots and tie-dyed t-shirts floated through my mind. I tried to picture Fang in braids, bold glasses and sandals holding out a daisy preaching peace and love. I ended up snorting wine up nose and spluttering rivulets of Cabernet all over Fang's shirt. His white shirt.
Grabbing my napkin, I coughed and hacked like a cat trying to hawk up a fur ball while my eyes watered from the burning of my nasal passages. "Sorry," I choked, trying to wipe and blot the stains forming across his chest. Oh my! Was that a nipple peeking through the drenched material?
Fang sighed heavily, knocking my useless attempts aside. Effectively putting an end to my fondling. "It's okay, Red." Looking down at his ruined shirt, his lips twitched. "Perhaps we will stick with drinking only white wine in the future."
I smiled sheepishly, my face flaming bright pink. "That's probably a good idea."
We ate in awkward silence for a while. Only the sounds of our forks and knives scraping the plate echoed throughout the kitchen.
"Why did you band together?" I asked, my brow dropping to a frown. "Why doesn't everyone just go about their own business anyway they like? Why huddle together in one place?"
"There are several Colonies in the world, Red. Vampires can and often do, move around to different locations or take vacations at places like this safe house. But our Colony is the largest congregation of vampires. And as for your question of why we huddle together," he rolled his eyes at my terminology, "it's for protection."
"Protection?" I glanced at Fang. Over six foot of burly vampire sat beside me, what the heck could he need protection from other than low hanging ceiling fans?
"From humans accidentally discovering our species," he said bitterly, his eyes turning arctic, boring into mine. He blinked and it was gone. Turning away from me, "It's also easier to live an ordinary life," he said, shrugging. "Nobody to question why you never venture out in daylight. Why you never grow older." He looked pointedly at me. "At the Colony we can live our lives openly without worry about having to move around to keep suspicions at bay. We work our jobs...raise our families...live without fear of being exposed."
"Is that why you came to find me? To bring me to the Colony?" I mean...it sounded nice and everything, but I wasn't exceptionally good at fitting in.
"Yes," he took a deep breath before slowly releasing it, "and no." He wiped his mouth, tossing the cloth napkin onto his empty plate.
"What does that mean? Why did you come, Fang?"
Instead of answering me, he stood up and started gathering our plates. Surprisingly, mine was empty too. Holy Moses on a pogo stick! I ate a freaking cow. I looked down at my stomach expecting to find it grotesquely bloated and distorted from the amount of food I had jam-packed into it, but it was flat and smooth. Instead of feeling stuffed to the gills, I was simply...satisfied. Replete. The next all-you-can-eat buffet I run across had better run in fear because I am taking it down. I giggled to myself.
He made quick work rinsing the dishes and loading the dishwasher. He was a sexy domesticated brute, I thought, taking up my favorite hobby once again of admiring his backside. Between the combination of having a full stomach and the wine, I was in a very groovy mood. Huh...I might fit into the Colony after all.
Leaning against the sink, he dried his hands off on a towel. "I came for you because you represent a threat to the Colony," he said quietly.
Who knew eating could be so sexy? ;)Â The Colony thinks our poor Mel is a threat...are they right about that?
Stay tuned for the next installment of FANGED to find out .
Hey everyone! I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it. If you liked it please give it a vote and comments are always appreciated. If you don't see any updates here...check out my other two stories Bending Steele or When Roses Collide.