The Vampires' Last Lover (Dying of the Dark Vampires Book 1) (3 page)

’m not sure how long I was out. When I came to, I heard Peter’s voice getting gradually louder like someone slowly turning up a radio.

“Txema… Txema? Shit, I think she’s waking up.”

His image was hazy, and I could see two other figures behind him which I assumed were Johnny and Tyreen. He sounded shaken, and the concern in his voice touched me. It pulled me out of the dark, cold place I’d fallen into. I’m not sure I landed anywhere, just that I was immersed in a sea of thick blackness. I was unable to move. Held fast in close confines, it felt like being in a coffin too small for me.

Underneath Peter’s voice I heard whispering voices holding a conversation. It was too difficult to understand the words, although the accents and cadences sounded French, maybe Spanish. There were several of these voices, and most of them were male. As they spoke, the pressure around me lifted. Softness caressed me, as if I lay upon a lush feather bed. The voices overlapped, creating a buzzing echo. New voices joined in, raising the volume and sounding alarmed. A cold grimy hand seized my throat, and that’s when I realized I had been unconscious or dreaming. Peter’s voice had been an anchor holding me fast to the real world.

I tried to raise my head. “Where am I?”

Someone had moved me from the floor near our vanity mirror to the bottom bunk bed. Tyreen’s bed. Maybe it was Peter. But I did black out, so it’s possible I stumbled there myself.

“You’re in our room, baby,” said Tyreen, gently.

As soon as she spoke, my vision cleared. Her bright green eyes were wide with worry. It made me fear for what I looked like. I suddenly remembered the miniature crimson rivers trickling down my neck. I reached up, but she blocked my hand.

“It’s okay… it’s okay… Shush-h-h!”

“Babe, you’re going to be just fine,” added Peter.

Tyreen deferred to his invasion into my personal space. If not for my disorientation, I wouldn’t have minded his closeness. He was dressed in his favorite tailored suit. It happened to be my favorite as well since it accentuated his powerful upper body. Traditional dark blue, with a burgundy tie. Nice and solid but bordering on boring. I guess that’s how I saw Peter sometimes.

“Just relax, and lay back. That’s it. Good girl.” He spoke softly while brushing my hair back with his fingers.

Normally, I would bristle at that last remark. But, feeling as I did, I gave in and allowed him to baby me.

“What happened?”

My question was directed more to my roommate than my boyfriend. Maybe I bristled just a little.

“Peter found you lying on the floor in front of the mirror. When you wouldn’t wake up he called me,” she said. Johnny, who had been standing quietly this whole time, nodded to confirm this.

“Well, that’s not exactly how it went down, but pretty close,” Peter said. Tyreen shot him a sharp look.

He continued, “After you said you were coming to the door, I heard something fall over in your room. I thought you might’ve tripped on something. Maybe it was a chair or a table. Hell, it could’ve been the shoes you couldn’t find, for all I knew.”

Honestly, this was one of the things I
didn’t
care for about him… this need of his to over-analyze and over-explain. At times, it made him seem like an overbearing prick. I think if he’d pay more attention to the reactions of those around him more, he’d figure out when to shut up. I don’t mean to be harsh. There are a number of qualities Peter has that I did so love about him, but sometimes he could say or do the exact wrong thing.

“What time is it, anyway?” I asked.

“Seven-twenty,” said Johnny, his tone devoid of the compassion of his girl, and even more prick-ish than my guy. At least he had the good sense to defer quickly once Tyreen glared at him. No doubt when Peter called her, it interrupted something intimate. Both he and Tyreen were dressed in sweats and matching UT sweatshirts that were disheveled, and neither had been wearing them when I last saw them just before Garvan’s arrival. Besides, they both had that ‘freshly fucked’ look in their eyes.

“You were out for at least an hour,” Tyreen said, still worried. She smiled at me with a genuine look of concern.

I’ve rarely seen a smile that can light up a room like hers. Really, when both she and her man turn it on, they look like frigging movie stars. With her big green eyes, long braids, and soft ebony complexion, she could be Beyonce’s younger sister. She certainly possesses the same sexy voice and vivacious curves. Johnny’s chiseled face and ripped physique make him look like any of the young stud rappers these days—especially when he gets a serious look in his soft gray eyes. He’s got a great sense of humor, too… just not so much that night.

“An hour spent with you squirming around for the most part,” added Peter. Again with the obsessive need to clarify the specifics. The sincere worry and compassion in his voice made me feel a bit guilty for my earlier reaction.

“I was ready to call the paramedics. I thought you were having a seizure or something, but Tyreen stopped me. It looks like she was right, because you did come out of whatever this thing was, but I still think you should see a doctor.”

I tuned out most of what he was saying and just enjoyed the feel of his voice. I’ve seen other girls nearly swoon over his dimples and charming smile, but I must confess it’s the sexiness in his voice that gets me. There’s a warmth and assurance there, when he finds the right thing to say and doesn’t obsess so much. It was the positive side of nice and solid.

“You seem a lot better now,” Tyreen said. “Just take it easy tonight and rest up, you should be fine.”

“What about our date?” My voice was barely more than a whisper and I added, with just a touch of desperation, “It’s not too late to make it to the restaurant before they stop serving!”

“That might be pushing it, don’t you think?” said Peter, with a note of worry in his voice.

Little Pepino’s stayed open until eleven each night, and I knew firsthand that the kitchen remained available for patrons until midnight. I didn’t give him a chance to go on about how this was a bad idea, and sat up. The room started swimming around me again before I could even swing my legs off of the bunk.

“See? I told y’all she can’t go anywhere tonight,” said Peter to the others. “Quit trying to encourage her. It’s best if she stays here and rests.”

He sounded like my mysterious visitor, only worse.

“Well, I know you two had planned a special night on the town,” said Tyreen, wearing her pained expression again while nodding. It was almost like she shared the picture in my head of my birthday celebration being sucked down into swirling drain. “We could get you two something to eat and bring it here—how about that? It might not be Little Pepino’s, but you could do worse than Olive Garden.”

“How about a couple of pizzas and a six pack of Killian’s for us all?” Peter suggested. He looked over at me after nodding to Johnny, as if my preference for the evening’s revised agenda was an afterthought. I glared at him and he blushed. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets while nervously straightening his back with an ‘oh shit!’ look on his face.

“Actually, I’d prefer a box of truffles and a big bottle of chardonnay,” I replied, offering what I thought was a wry smile, but was probably more of a grimace thanks to the steady throb inside my head.

I hoped that a chocolate rush and wine would stop an oncoming migraine. Maybe a little ridiculous, but at this point, nothing sounded good, nothing but a long night of restful sleep. And yet, just an hour ago I felt totally jazzed to go out and celebrate the final phase of my teenager status. I wasn’t willing to give that up without at least the semblance of a fight.

It made me wonder even more about my earlier visitor. His appearance on
that
night, on the birthday that announced the final stanza of my adolescence, definitely marked the event in a way I’d likely never forget. I shuddered at the thought that this had been the pasty stranger’s intent all along.

“Hey, sweetie… Johnny and I should go so you two can decide how you want to spend tonight,” said Tyreen, leaning forward to kiss my forehead. “If you need anything, call me. I don’t care how late it is. I’ll leave his broke ass and be here in a minute, or go out and get anything you need.” She chuckled while Johnny scowled.

“All right… sorry for the trouble,” I told her, smiling weakly. “We should be okay, once we figure out dinner. It was probably just low blood sugar.”

“I’ll call you guys if her condition worsens,” Peter added, leading them to the door.

Tyreen gave him a hug and waved to me as she did. She broke away from Peter, and Johnny rapped knuckles with him. Then he slipped his arm around Tyreen and led her out of the room.

Peter closed the door behind them, took off his jacket and tossed it over chair. He forced a small smile, though his forehead was still creased in concern. He took out his cell phone.

“Pizza it is,” he said as he pulled up the stored number. Like I said, solid and reliable.

Peter stayed with me all night. Despite my earlier protests that I could handle things on my own just fine, I was actually glad he didn’t leave.

He ordered a pizza for us after I declined his proposal to order Chinese. I just didn’t think my stomach could handle fried pork or anything like it. As if the pizza wouldn’t wreak havoc on my system! But it was good, and I started to feel better. Not enough to go dancing as originally planned, but ready to enjoy a night of backgammon, DVDs, and snuggling with him.

I did, however, sneak a peek in the mirror at my neck at around ten o’clock. Not only was there still no sign of the puncture wounds that drew my blood earlier, the redness around my birthmark had faded noticeably. And there was no tenderness.

Peter sang “Happy Birthday” to me after dinner. At least I am pretty sure that is what he was going for. Luckily there were no dogs or cats present to chime in, or it might’ve been a really awful serenade. Still, his vulnerability made him so adorable. It upped the ante in regard to the push-pull tug on my heart.

Sometimes, I thought about the tense excitement between us when we first started dating, hoping to hang onto that feeling. Such incredible intoxication! In those early days of love that tender bud of burning desire very nearly drove me mad, and even then I always suspected the feeling was even stronger in him than it was with me.

But that night it was almost impossible to think of any romance with him or reflect upon our best intimacies since September. Instead, I found my thoughts drawn repeatedly to the pale intruder, Garvan. Garvan, the magician; or, better yet, the messenger of doom. Maybe he was just some guy who happened to portray a dashingly handsome vampire.

A vampire?

Such nonsense! But, for some reason, that thought made him seem more real. Worse was the fact that this single thought lifted my heart for him, and for reasons I was unable to discern. It seemed as though my blood, my very soul, drew my thoughts and attention to this stranger, while pulling a little bit more from my current beau. Not even my mysterious illness and the dried blood absorbed by a handful of Kleenex tissues in my wastebasket could dampen Garvan’s allure. Nor did his inhuman ability to appear and disappear in an instant change my attraction to him. If nothing else, I desired to find out
who
and
what
he truly was.