Page 25
Story: Your Mr. Vampire
I reached inside my jacket, feeling the Cripo Glock. The weapon was lighter than a standard gun. I checked the safety, then the magazine, ensuring everything was precisely as it should be. The bullets contained a serum that Natasha invented. It comprised something that attacked vampire blood cells. I wasadvised to shoot once or twice, depending on the size of my target.
As Juan and Marisol made their way toward the building entrance, I slowly opened my car door. I moved silently, keeping myself in the shadows and between parked cars.
The couple disappeared through the building’s side entrance. I waited before following them inside. A fluorescent lighting buzzed overhead. The elevator was out of service, not surprising given the state of the place. I took the stairs. I hung back, listening to their footsteps and their quiet laughter as it echoed in the stairwell.
“You’re going to wake your neighbors,” Marisol said. There was a playfulness in her tone.
“Let them hear.” Juan replied. “I don’t care. I’ve been trying to get with you all night.”
I took the stairs one at a time. At the second-floor landing, I paused. Marisol’s laugh was melodic, genuine in a way that caught me off guard. Thischicacouldn’t run a cartel.She was focused on the wrong things.
“You were thinking about me while I was sitting right next to you at the club?” She teased. “What exactly were you thinking, Juan?”
“You don’t want to know that.”
“Yeah, I do. Tell me.” She pleaded.
“I was thinking I can’t wait to see you naked,” Juan gushed.
I heard the unmistakable sound of bodies pressing together against a wall and the sound of kissing.
“What else were you thinking?” Marisol asked.
“That I wanted to get you alone so I could see what that pussy do.”
They continued down the hall, and I followed at a careful distance. The corridor was dimly lit, with several burned-out bulbs creating pockets of darkness perfect for hiding. I slippedfrom shadow to shadow, keeping my footsteps silent on the worn carpet.
“Oh,papi, that’s what you trying to see.”
“Si, mami.”
“Good, because I plan to fuck you until the sun comes up.”
I had said the same thing to Morgan over text. Great minds, think alike. Maybe?
Juan laughed, a deep, throaty sound. “Promises, promises.”
The door to an apartment opened, and they stumbled inside. Neither of them noticed the door failed to click shut behind them. It only mattered if Marisol noticed, and she didn’t. I heard their continued conversation as they move deeper into the apartment, something about drinks and music, then the unmistakable sounds of deep kissing and clothing being removed and tossed.
I stood motionless in the hallway. One minute. Two minutes. Three. Giving them enough time to become thoroughly distracted. The Cripo Glock felt unnaturally warm against my palm as I drew it from its holster. I flicked off the safety with my thumb.
As I moved toward the unlocked door, I felt none of the doubt or hesitation that might have plagued me in the past. Teresa killed Morgan and now Marisol would pay the price. A human life for a vampire life. She took one of our people and we will take one of hers. Simple.
I pushed the apartment door open with my fingertips. The hinges were silent as I stepped inside. The entryway was dark.
My vampire eyes adjusted instantly to the darkness, taking in details no human could discern without lights. The living room was an ode to bachelor minimalism. There was a sagging futon couch with small stains. There was also a coffee table constructed from milk crates and a TV stand supporting amassive flatscreen that was worth more than everything else in the room combined.
The walls were bare except for a single framed Chicago Bulls poster and a Mexican flag thumbtacked above the futon couch. The carpet beneath my feet was worn thin in the pathways from the door to the kitchen and toward what must be the bedroom. That’s where the sounds of Marisol and Juan’s passion grew more intense.
I moved slowly, placing each step carefully to avoid the creaking floorboards under the carpet that plagued buildings of this vintage. The Cripo Glock was a comforting weight in my hand. My finger rested alongside the trigger rather than on it.
As I approached the hallway leading to the bedroom, the scent of sex became more pronounced. There was a heady mixture of sweat, pheromones, and the distinct metallic undertone that accompanied vampire arousal. Marisol’s gasps and moans filtered through the open bedroom door, punctuated by Juan’s deeper groans and Spanish endearments.
“Así, así!” Marisol urged. Her voice was ragged with pleasure. “Don’t stop!”
The bedroom door stood ajar, offering me a perfect line of sight to the bed. The sheets were tangled around them. Marisol straddled him. Her bare back was to the door and her spine arched as she rode him like he was a bull.
Her hair cascaded down her back in dark waves, swaying with each movement of her hips. Juan’s hands gripped her waist. His fingers pressed into her flesh with an intensity that would bruise a human woman. But Marisol wasn’t human anymore. Teresa saw to that.
Table of Contents
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- Page 25 (Reading here)
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