My victory, however, was extremely short lived as it dawned on me I didn't have a stitch of clothing to wear. There was no telling what Fang had done with my borrowed hooker wear from earlier. If it had been me and I had a choice, I would have burned it. But, knowing him, he probably disposed of it just so I would be stuck in this embarrassing position or worse...have to go crawling to him and ask! I made an irritated sound in the back at of my throat. He'd have a long wait before I did something like that.
I looked down at the towel wrapped around me. I didn't really have a problem tromping around the compound in a towel, but I doubted the vamps around here would approve. And the thought of having to put on dirty underwear, frankly, made my skin crawl with all kinds of ewwww. When a person was all nice, fresh and sparkly clean...well...yeah...I still didn't sparkle, but I was clean...they didn't generally look forward to putting on dirty skivvies.
Panicking, I looked around and my eyes landed on the thick, black drapes hanging off the humongous four poster bed. Funny, I hadn't noticed those when I woke up, but then again, having the albino Ingmar Bergman twins hovering in my face was rather distracting. Not to mention the loss of my waffles and the strange reactions I now had towards Fang.
Walking over to the drapes, I fingered the fine material wondering if I could tap into my inner Tim Gunn and somehow make it work. My eyes landed on the four, perfectly round, white scars on my left index finger and I was quickly reminded it was probably safer for all involved if I didn't get anywhere near a sewing machine again. Ever. The last time I touched one of those demonic devices from hell, I not only ended up sewing my finger into the machine, but the sewing instructor developed a drinking problem soon after and ended up quitting. I think she's a part-time pole dancer now.
With a disgruntled huff, I dropped the curtain. Needless to say, they were safe from me going all Carol Burnett on them. Flopping onto the bed, I was about to start thinking of all the ways I was going to get Fang back for leaving me with only my birthday suit, when something sitting on the opposite edge of the bed caught my eye. Crawling across adulteress acres, I knelt in front of a neatly folded piled of clothes and a note.
Plucking it off the top, I couldn't help but notice it was written on the same parchment type paper my death sentence had been on. A small shudder wiggled up my spine from the memory. Seriously, these vamps needed to stop buying office supplies from medieval times and maybe hit Staples once in a while. Shaking my head, I looked down at the elegantly scrawled letters done in actual ink with perfect precision and a masculine flare. Don't ask me how I knew it was masculine...I just did. Just as I knew exactly who it was from before I read it.
Dearest Moya Solnishka,
I have taken the liberty of arranging clothing for you. If there is something you desire, other than myself, you need only ask either Olaf or Sven. For the thing you desire the most...you must ask yours truly. ;)
I have also had your things from your vehicle returned to you, including your precious spoon. I humbly request you do not break anything with it as I have already had the pleasure of learning that valuable lesson and still have no questions which would require you to break more priceless vases.
Also, to the left of the bed, you will find a closet with more garments and what I hope will be received as an acceptable peace offering.
Eternally Yours,
Drake
AKA...Fang
Holy Moses on a pogo stick! Fang gave me a winky face in calligraphy. Holding the letter to my chest, a wide smile broke across my lips and I bounced on the bed with glee. Okay...yeah...it wasn't exactly a declaration of love, but it was beginning.
Giggling, I vaulted off the bed and ran over to the closet he'd mentioned. Throwing open the two richly carved mahogany doors, I walked into what could only be described as nirvana...utopia...Shangri-La...paradise...heaven...or for all you Star Trek fans...the Nexus. As Guinan said, I was inside joy itself. The angels sang. The harps played. The chorus joined in and surrounded me in dulcet tones of celestial grandeur as I walked into the greatest closet on the planet Earth, possibly the universe.
There was built in dressers, shelves, at least six full length mirrors, row and rows of clothing hanging neatly in a line, chandlers and oh...my...GAWD...shoes! My knees buckled and I sank into a plush leather chaise lounge. Yes, there was even furniture. Inside a closet, go figure. But my mind didn't focus on what my ass was sitting on, it was glued to the glorious floor to ceiling alter of fabulous shoes. Prada, Manolo and Ferragamo...oh my. With trembling fingers I picked up an emerald green diva sandal and held it aloft to the light. The precision set crystals sparkled on the cut-out champagne straps and my heart stuttered in my chest at the beauty of it.
Mine! They were all mine! And they were all in my size! I hugged the sandal to my chest while the fingers on my other hand lightly touched each and every shoe with reverence. There were boots, sandals, pumps, kitten heels, flats...so many different styles and kinds it was dizzying trying to take them all in. With utter glee, I sat down and slipped on the bejeweled sandals and ran over to one of the many mirrors. Turning my feet this way and that, I admired the fine tooled, leather encasing my feet. I squealed with delight and I felt like Dorothy when she first tried on the ruby red slippers.
"But don't worry, my pretties," I purred down to my feet. "I'll drop a house on a bitch before someone makes off with you."
Ten minutes later, give or take a least five more minutes of admiring my footwear, I found a drawer dedicated to all things lingerie and picked out a deep green bra and panty set to match my new shoes. I felt like a Victoria's Secret angel. Too bad I didn't have any wings or the willpower to actually be one. My mind says model, but my heart says chocolate, pizza and Cheetos. Oh well, we can't all be perfect, can we? But, with these shoes, I was getting closer by the minute. Doing a little jump and twirl I walked back into the bedroom, feeling light as air and a good five inches taller.
Normally, I had all the grace of an elephant taking ballet lessons, but, luckily for me, I was rather skillful at functioning in heels. This basically meant, it didn't matter what I had on my feet when I did my random and many gravity checks. I could stumble over a cordless phone in cheap tennis shoes the same as I could a magnificent pair of heels and I'd rather be in the heels, thank you very much.
Walking over to the bed with a little extra shimmy in my step, I looked at the clothes Fang had set out for me. A sleeveless, silk tank top in a shimmering hunter green, a leather waist length jacket reminiscent of the one I had given up to shield that bitch's ta-tas and a pair of...you guessed it...leather pants. Seriously? I held up the pants in disbelief. Did all vampires shop at BDSM outlets?
Shrugging my shoulders, I decided when in Rome why not blend in. I slipped out of my shoes for the length of time it took me to slide into the pants, which went on remarkably easy. I was thinking I might have to slather myself up like a greased pig to get these suckers on, but nope, I managed to get them on, zipped and buttoned without a smidgeon of Crisco. Pulling on the green tank over my head, it fell down around my torso in a soft swoosh, instantly clinging in all the right places. Drat! Not only was Fang being absurdly generous and sweet with the shoes, but he had excellent taste in clothes to boot. Was there nothing that man couldn't do?
"Well, there is one thing he can't do," I muttered to myself. "He won't be doing me." With that I picked up the jacket and was about to put an arm through it when my purse caught my eye. With another squeal of delight, I ran over to the fancy little table it was sitting on and scooped it up. And there, leaning against the wall, was the promised wooden spoon. I have to admit, I teared up a little seeing it. Reaching out, I touched the handle and gave it a caress. It seemed so long ago when it had been hanging innocently in my kitchen being ignored by me for years and now...here we were together once more.
Shaking my head to dispel the homesickness creeping up on me, I started digging through my bag. It seemed everything was accounted for. The half-eaten bag of Goobers, ChapStick, my golden ticket to a free muffin...the only things missing were my car keys and cellphone. Drat! Obviously, Fang had every intention of making me stick around this joint whether I wanted to or not. Not that I had any plans of leaving. The thought actually hadn't even crossed my mind, but now that I knew I was stuck, it pissed me off. Yanking out my lip gloss and mascara, I closed my purse and dropped it back on the table with a huff.
I marched into the bathroom like a woman on a mission. Technically, I was on a mission. I wanted to find my murderous minion. Applying a little extra mascara...miraculously without sneezing this time...and a thick layer of lip gloss, I pulled on my jacket. Fluffing up my hair, the wild curls fell in a riot of bright red against the black leather. Hell yeah, I looked like a total badass and I loved it.
I could see now why these vampires were so found of leather. It really helped to enhance the whole vampire dark and threatening persona, not to mention making your ass look spectacular. I may be wearing angel's underwear, but I looked like pitchfork welding devil ready for sin and Fang was about to get forked. Wait...that didn't sound right. Whatever, you get the point. Or in this case...he will when he sees me in sees me in this getup.
But first, I needed to find Bubbles. Despite my being still pissed at Fang, I still wanted to bang him like a screen door during a tornado and the only way to prevent that from happening was to have her strapped to my side. Giving myself one last encouraging nod of approval in the mirror, I turned on my heel to start my search for Bubbles and maybe find the linden berry boys and get my waffles back while I was at it.
As I walked out of Fang's impressive lair, which included a lot more rooms than I had originally thought, I ran into a bit of problem. I had no idea where to begin looking for her. I remember Olaf...or Sven...or whichever Hans Christian Anderson fairy-tale reject it was...telling me she had been banished to the kitchen. Problem was, I had no idea which direction lead to the kitchen. Standing in the doorway I had two choices, left or right and each lead to endless tunnels with lots of doors.
Double drat! Where was Fang's bloodhound nose when you needed it? Closing my eyes, I decided to give it a whirl and see if I could sniff it out myself. Taking a long, deep inhale of air through my nose, I tried to catch a whiff of anything that might indicate which way to go. But instead of catching the scent of anything food related, I got a blend of citrus, spice and a woodsy exotic musk. It was...expensive, decadent and alluring. I knew that smell and it didn't belong to Fang. Popping my eyes open, I gasped in surprised as my gaze collided with the cool, dark regard of Sinclair.
"Good evening, Ms. Wagner. It is a pleasure to see you up and about again," he said smoothly.
Too bad his facial expressions didn't match the nice sentiments coming out of his mouth. He was a big, tall, dark-haired, GQ gorgeous vampire who was expensively dressed all in black from head to toe who positively reeked of danger. Aside from the cologne that is, which was actually quite lovely.
"Hello," I said, carefully stepping back a pace or two. He may be dressed like he should be sitting behind a desk ruling a billion dollar empire, but those eyes told a different story. Those were eyes of a killer and one who enjoyed it. I could also detect the unmistakable metallic scent of the guns I knew he had concealed under his jacket. And here I was...without a spoon in sight.
"I have come to visit with you, but I can see you are on your way...out." He tipped his head to the side and examined me from the tips of my toes peeking out from my sandals all the way up to the frizz of my hair.
"I was...um...going to the kitchen?" I hadn't intended for it to come out sounding like question, but the guy made me nervous and I always felt like I was under some kind of test around him. Panic rose within me and I took another step back, my new leathers creaking loudly in the awkward silence.
His eyes glittered darkly and frankly, scared the crap out of me, but eventually a small smile flashed across his lips. "Then perhaps, you would not mind me accompanying you?"
"Ah...sure." The last thing I wanted was for him to tag along, but I didn't really think I had an actual opinion in the matter. Something told me that when this guy made a request, the right answer was always yes.
"After you then, Ms. Wagner," he said, bowing slightly at the waist.
Looking anxiously to the left and right, I tried to make a quick decision, but there was never anything quick about my thinking process. Especially, when I was nervous as a long tail cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
"It was my understanding you wished to go to the kitchens?" Sinclair asked, one of his dark brows rising up on his forehead. Great, he could do that little trick too. I hate vampires.
"I...um...I'm not sure where it is," I muttered, my face turning bright red. It's not like I got a map to the compound when I got here. Seriously, they needed a tour guide around here or one of those mall info centers with a big red dot stating 'you are here'.
He continued to stare at me, his face blanker than any poker player in Vegas. I swear, I had been stared at more in these last few weeks than I have been in my entire life and I couldn't decide if I like it or found it incredibly rude. I was beginning to feel like one of those freak show participants hiding behind a curtain who people paid a dollar to see.
Suddenly, his stone face cracked and a wide smile split it apart. His long...long...long fangs gleamed brightly under the florescent lights of the hallway. "Then, by all means, allow me to show you the way, Ms. Wagner."
"It's Mel," I corrected automatically.
"My apologies, Melanie." Bowing, he motioned with his arm to the left, waiting for me to move.
I knew that was a close to Mel as I was going to get with Mr. Prim and Proper. And at least he was ditching the Miss thing, which actually made me want to hurl. It made me feel like I should be in a sitting room, stitching a tapestry when it came out of his accented mouth. I glanced down the long hallway he indicated and took an uneasy step. Something told me I was about to take a stroll with a monster who I had once believed only lurked in my nightmares.
Author's Note:
So Mel is about to take a stroll with Sinclair. Will he prove to be friend or foe? Stay tuned to find out!
As some of you may already know, for the week of September 26th through the 30th, I am taking some time off from writing and spending it with my family. During that week, I won't be doing any updates. I know...it's not what you wanted to hear, but I promise...as soon as I get back, all my updates will continue. Hang in there, it'll go by so fast you won't even notice. :)
I hope you enjoyed this latest installment of FANGED and if you like it, you will consider giving it a vote. I love hearing from you and comments are always appreciated. If you don't see any up dates here, feel free to check out my other works Bending Steele, When Roses Collide and Steal You Away.
As always, thank you for reading!
Sincerely,
K