She found herself backed up against the wall of the small motel room she was sharing with her partner for this job. He was inches away, leaning in toward her. What he had in mind, she didn’t know – it was difficult to read his face behind the sunglasses he wore. He placed one hand on the wall next to her and leaning in, breathing deeply. Her heart was racing, and she didn’t know what to do. After a moment, his demeanor shifted, and he leaned in to kiss. Her mind was in a panic at this, and she reacted to protect herself, managing to jut the barrel of a gun into his abdomen before he could get too much closer.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
“Kiss you. What does it look like?” he said.
“This isn’t a pleasure stay. This is business, remember?” she said. He backed away after a moment, though she didn’t relax just yet.
“Why so uptight?” he asked, reaching into his long jacket for a pack of cigarettes.
“I don’t know about you, but I was hired for a job. I need this payout.” she said, putting the gun away only once he was firmly on the other side of the room.
He looked her up and down, studied her. “I ain’t going to hurt you, princess.”
“I’m not a princess.” she snapped back.
He shrugged. “Point is, I’m not going to hurt you. I know what your job is, I’m curious to see if you can handle it. What I don’t know is why this payout is so important to you. You can get money doing anything, I bet.”
“Why try to kiss me?” she asked, trying to change the subject.
“You’re hot as hell and I have a thing for redheads.” he replied. “Besides, I thought you were into me.”
“What gave you that impression?” she asked, heading for her luggage.
“The way you react when I’m around you. Your body tenses up, your heart races, your breathing changes, and your scent…” he trailed off, taking a drag off his cigarette.
“You’re an aggravating ass of a vampire, you know that?” she retorted.
“Thanks.” he said with a grin. “I try.”
She rolled her eyes, and dug through her bag for a book to read, in an effort to ignore him for now.
“Look, I didn’t mean to offend. I’ve gotten so used to reading body language and picking up on scent and whatnot, I forgot I should ask. Sorry if I read the room wrong.”
She sighed, still testily sorting through her bag, even though she’d already found the book a couple of times over by now. Thing was, he wasn’t wrong. While she was used to being hit on by men, and occasionally women, she couldn’t recall having such a strong attraction to one that she wasn’t blood bound too. Frankly, it terrified her a little.
“You ok?” he asked her.
“No. Yes. I don’t know.” she finally admitted, yanking the book from the bag before plopping down onto one of the beds.
“Does it have anything to do with this payout you need so bad?”
“That’s part of it. The other part is you’re maybe not entirely wrong.” she said. She hadn’t wanted to admit it, but figured it was better to get things out in the open. Her gut instinct told her that if she kept trying to hide it, he’d only be more insufferable later.
“I told you that.” he said, offering her a cigarette. She debated it a moment before declining.
He shrugged, and took another drag. “I can be a good listener, you know.”
“I have a feeling you’re at least somewhat trustworthy.” she confessed.
“Do you listen to your feelings a lot?” he asked.
“My instinct doesn’t fail me. I listen to it, and use my mind as necessary to navigate what that tells me. I try to keep my emotions of out it if I can, but it doesn’t always work.”
“Not a bad way to get by. Not unlike me.” he said.
“What are you?” she asked.
“One of a kind, as far as I know.” he replied.
“I meant what kind of vampire.” she said.
“Oh that. I guess Gangrel, technically.”
“Makes sense.” she said.
“So why is this payout so important?” he asked again.
“I was hoping you’d forgotten.”
“Not likely, princess.” he said.
“Don’t call me that.” she warned again.
“Alright. Don’t bite my head off.” he grumbled. “Just wanted to know if you, like…owed a loan shark or something.”
“No. I’m not hurting for money.” she said, leaning back against the headboard and sucking in a breath as a wave of pain rode over her body.
He didn’t say anything for a while, and neither did she, nor would she have been terribly focused on if he had said anything. The hunger pangs of withdrawal were starting, and she couldn’t afford to waste a lot of time. After a little while, they eased up, and she rooted through her bag again, but came up empty. She’d left her stash of purchases from The Sanguinaries back in the safe at the motel in New Orleans, and she swore.
“You got a mouth on you, don’t you?” he asked, sounding a little impressed.
“Like a sailor.” she grumbled.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked again. “Cuz either you’re sick and need some kind of treatment, or you’re a junkie and need a fix.”
“Ghoul, not junkie.” she corrected.
“You need blood, don’t you?” he surmised. “Where’s your Domitor.”
“He met Final Death.” she said.
“How long ago?” he asked.
“Uhh…about…thirty-three years now.” she said, bracing herself for an oncoming wave.
As she doubled over, he got up without hesitation putting his cigarette out in the ashtray before heading over to her, popping his fangs in order to bite deep into his wrist. He stopped just in front of her and held it out. “Drink.” he said.
Petra didn’t want to, if only because she didn’t want to owe him. Still, the pain was bad, and she didn’t know how long the current job would take. What choice did she have? When things died down a little for a moment, she grabbed his wrist and pulled it to her mouth, taking every bit of vitae he was willing to give her.
For his part, his eyes were half closed as she fed. Something about her touch was enjoyable on multiple levels, and the small noises she was making as she fed sent an animalistic thrill through him. He wanted to just pin her and take her, but she deserved more respect than that. So he restrained himself, and just rested a hand at the back of her head, until he pulled his wrist away and licked closed the wound he’d caused himself.
Petra sat, eyes closed as first relief, then a variety of emotions flooded her body. He started to leave, but she reacted on instinct and reached for him, grabbing him by the front of his jacket in order to pull him in close, then press her lips against his. She tried to pull him back onto the bed with her, but he resisted with a little growl. “No.” he muttered. “Not now. I have to feed.” Begrudgingly, he pulled away. “Get rest. I’ll bring back food, okay?”
“Okay.” she said, sounding both breathless and disappointed. But it was clear she understood. After he left, Petra thought back to how she’d ended up here. She hadn’t been in New Orleans long when word of her skill had reached Brandon, and he’d decided to call her in for a job, based on the recommendation of some others that knew of her reputation from elsewhere in Louisiana.
When they met, he had been every bit as gorgeous and intimidating as she remembered. Oddly, the business suit seemed to enhance this fact more than the armor she had last seen him in. He made no acknowledgement that she looked at all familiar, so either he knew and didn’t care, knew and had a plan, or didn’t know. The job he was offering her was simple enough. He’d engaged a trusted friend to do a negotiation job on his behalf. This friend had all the information, and while he trusted him to convey the necessary points properly, he could not trust this friend to keep a level head. Her job then, was basically to babysit him, make sure he behaved, and if she succeeded, she could have access to a semi-regular supply of blood.
She was then introduced to her partner, a man named Vince. From that meeting, they were to head to an airstrip and board a plan and get set on task. Vince was supposed to fill her in along the way, but he hadn’t said a lot – just that if the negotiations failed, they were supposed to cause some chaos and upheaval on their way out. So now here she sat, currently alone in a hotel room, scared of her attraction to Vince.
It wasn’t so much that she was afraid of him…her instinct didn’t set off alarm bells, so she wasn’t terribly worried. It was more what could come from that attraction. She had zero experience with relationships – be they friendships, one-night stands or long-term. Mostly, she thought, she was afraid of the sex. Her experience was limited to an abusive husband from centuries ago. Aside from that, it was just stories she had overheard, primarily from the men she had trained. Petra bit her lip hard to try and snap herself out of this thought process, then decided to test out the motel’s shower to try and calm down overall.