Page 5 of Kentucky Nights (Dead Man’s Ranch #1)

The jolt of my head bobbing down awakens me. My vision blurs, struggling to focus on my surroundings. Parts of my body ache that I didn’t know could. I groan, squeezing my eyes shut from the pain throbbing in my cheek.

I blink a few times to clear my vision. I sway left and right as I continue to get my bearings. Sunlight pours in through the window, causing me to wince. Dust particles come to view first before my blurred environment finally makes itself known.

An aged leather couch is to the left, flush against the living room wall. The TV is on, but the volume is so low, I can’t hear what the actor is saying. Not that it matters, but I wouldn’t mind a little trash TV under the circumstances.

The wooden plank floors are old. Wide gaps between each slab allow me to see the dirt the cabin is built on. To the left is a small kitchen, and to the right is a hallway that I assume leads to my kidnapper’s bedroom.

“Fuck,” I whisper to myself when I notice I’m naked.

I wiggle in the seat, blowing out a relieved breath when I realize I’m not sore between my legs. The relief is short-lived when I notice large bite marks on my inner thighs.

“What…” The simple word dies from my dry lips.

Confusion adds to the throb on the side of my head. I try to follow the dried blood on my body, noticing more bite marks.

Deep wounds decorate my torso and arms. When I move my neck, I hiss from the sharp stings radiating from either side. Warmth drips down my throat from the movement. I’m very aware of the slight tickle of the rivulet sliding down until it stops at my right breast.

“You’re awake.”

The unexpected voice has me looking left, then right, but no one is there.

“That’s good, Druscilla. I like that you have so much life in you after I took so much of it last night.”

I don’t say a word. I’m not stupid. The more I say, the more he can twist my words and use them against me. My entire body trembles with fear. Tears threaten to break free, but I can’t let them fall. Men like him enjoy that too much.

“You can pretend all you want, Druscilla—pretty name, by the way—that you are brave and strong.” He grips my shoulders from behind me, bends down, and inhales so deeply, he moans.

“But I can smell your fear, and you smell so fucking good.” His finger swipes the fresh blood drip, following the trail up my chest.

His other hand slides across my shoulders as he walks with heavy steps to stand in front of me.

He sucks his finger into his mouth, groaning when he tastes my blood.

“There’s just something about you. I can’t put my finger on it. You aren’t my mate or anything like that.” A chaotic, mad laugh fills the dusty space. “Wouldn’t that be terrible?”

“I don’t know what drugs you are on, but I won’t tell anyone what happened here. Just let me go, and you can go back to whatever drug-induced stupor you enjoy.”

He bends down, gripping each arm of the chair I’m sitting in. I smell the metallic taste of my blood on his breath. A maniacal smile spreads across his face, and I gasp as a new wave of terror quakes my body.

Blood tints his teeth. The red sinks into the nooks and crevices, painting a predatory picture that I will not be able to forget. He will be the reason for my nightmares, but I will be the reason I overcome them.

Two sharp cuspids protruding from his mouth can only be one thing.

Fangs.

I’ve heard stories like everyone else. Vampires, werewolves, elves, fairies, and whatever else parents tell their children growing up. They can’t be real, but the logical part of me is wondering where the stories started.

Isn’t there truth to everything, even if it seems unbelievable?

My intrusive thoughts turn to cannibalism. I’m not sure why, because being drank dry is just as terrifying as getting eaten, but I’d rather have a vampire drink my blood than a cannibal add me to his ingredients list for his stew.

He tilts his head, his eyes flashing a bright crimson. He lifts his hand for me to see, and one by one, each nail lengthens to a sharp claw.

“Ah, I hear your heartbeat. It’s quicker with fear.” He combs his fingers through my long, wild, red curly hair. “There’s no need to fear me. I don’t think I could ever kill someone as beautiful as you.”

“Fuck you.” I gather the spit in my mouth and launch it in his face, where it lands right on the corner of his mouth.

He snarls, grasping each of my legs and spreading them apart. “Do not tempt me. Remember, it is you who is helpless. Not me.”

“What…do you…want?” My teeth chatter. Not from the cold, but shock.

“You. Do you not remember the fun we had last night?” He continues to brush his fingers through my hair, his claws catching on the tangles. “We danced. We drank. You were all over me.”

My brows pinch together in thought, trying to remember anything from last night. I’m drawing a blank. I can’t remember how I met him, talking to him, or how I got here in this rundown cabin.

He pretends to be sad and frowns. “Aw, that’s okay, Druscilla.

You wouldn’t remember because I made you forget everything.

We met on that dating app and met for drinks.

” He kisses my cheek, and I pull away, not wanting him anywhere near me.

“I told you my name was Louisville, but everyone calls me Louis. Ringing any bells? You said you loved how unique my name was.” Louis smiles as if it were a fond memory.

“I could make you submit to me right now, but where’s the fun in that?

” He flattens his tongue on my cheek and licks the tears that I couldn’t hold back any longer.

“This is so much more fun when you fight me.”

“You’re sick,” I hiss. “You’re insane. Vampires aren’t real. You’re sick. Please,” the word is a broken sob. “Please, let me go.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Louis grips my chin, forcing me to look into his scarlet irises, and my stomach turns.

“I suppose that would be an easier explanation for your puny human mind to comprehend, but no, I am perfectly sane. Come on,” he urges, playfully knocking my chin with his fist. “You know what I am. The truth is screaming at you, clawing at your gut.” He pats my stomach.

“Come on, Druscilla. Come on,” he urges, his voice becoming higher as he antagonizes me.

Again, he licks me, only this time he gathers the dried blood on the other side of my throat. “Tell me and I’ll heal the bite marks on your neck. The left side is still oozing. I wonder if I sank my fangs in too deep. I’d apologize, but”—he sighs, clicking his tongue—“I just don’t care.”

“You’re a vampire.” I hold my head high, staring into his eyes because no matter how scared I am, I will never cower. “Or you think you’re a vampire.”

“Think?” he repeats.

With a smile, he is nothing but a blur until he is on the other side of the living room. “What about now?” Louis speeds across the room, standing in front of me again. He unties one wrist, my hand tingling with the new blood flow, and he stretches my arm.

I hate that I groan because it feels so good.

I sway again, a dizzy spell weakening any fight I had in me.

“I might have taken a little too much blood, but now I have to show you the truth, so you’ll believe me.”

My eyes droop, wanting nothing but to go to sleep.

His hand slaps my cheek, and my eyes snap open to see him glaring at me. “Watch me.”

I don’t know why, but I feel compelled to listen to everything he has to say all of a sudden. “I’ll watch,” I reply, witnessing him bringing my wrist to his mouth.

“Are you watching?” he asks.

“I am.” My voice is dull and monotone, the urge to follow his command stronger than my will to live.

His fangs rip into my flesh, the pain burns, igniting a scream that sears my throat.

Removing his cuspids, he groans, tilting his head back, keeping the grip on my wrist as he licks the corners of his mouth. “So delicious.”

He drops my arm, and it hangs limply by my side.

“Do you believe me now?” The bright embers bear into my soul.

Adrenaline surges through me, awakening my weak body. “I do.”

I have my arm freed. This is my one chance to get away.

Not that I have a chance to survive a vampire, but I have to try.

I’m not going to warn him. I’m not going to ask any questions to prolong this conversation because while I know in my soul, he is a vampire, there is a small part of me that doesn’t believe a damn word he says because how the hell are vampires real?

I can’t think about that right now. All I need to focus on is making it out of here alive, and if he is a vampire, then my chances are slim to none.

“Now that we have that out of the way, I’m thinking a few things. One, you can be my human blood bag because I really do love how you taste, or?—”

I slam my fist into his crotch, then grip and twist.

It was the closest part of him to me and the easiest. I wasn’t sure if it would hurt since he is a “vampire” but with the roar that is coming from his chest and ringing in my ears, I’d say it does.

“Fuck you and what you’re thinking.”

He falls to his knees, cupping himself, and then I rear my arm back, punching the middle of his throat.

Louis’s eyes widen as he struggles to gasp for air.

I don’t know how much time I have, but I use my free hand to untie my other wrist. When I stand, I stumble, catching myself on the chair that’s held me all these hours.

With newfound anger, I flip the chair over, kicking one of the wooden legs off. Taking the stake in my hand, I use all the might I have left and shove it into the middle of his throat.

His blood spills onto the floor, mixing with mine, and I don’t wait another second to see if he dies, lives, or pulls the stake free.

I run.

My vision darkens around the edges, but I can’t pass out now. I have to keep going. No one is going to save me but myself. That’s how it has always been, and that’s how it will always be, because depending on others has gotten me nowhere in life.

Ripping the front door open, the sun shining through the trees blinds me, and I fall down the rickety porch steps. The cool earth cushions the hit of my shoulder. My knee hits the grass. Dirt flies into my mouth when my chin smacks the ground.

Pushing myself up, I stagger and stumble for a few seconds. My legs are finally under me, and I sprint, my life depending on my will to live.

The air is humid, causing my skin to become hot and sweaty. Twigs break and stab the bottoms of my feet with every stride. I bite through the stings, but a pain-filled whimper falls from my lips.

I don’t know how much strength I have left.

I slip on the debris and leaves on the ground, catching myself on a nearby tree. The bark is harsh and rough against my sensitive, wounded skin, but at least I know it doesn’t mean to harm me. That alone brings me peace.

After inhaling a few deep breaths and not bothering to wipe the tears from my cheeks, with weak legs, I run again.

The deeper I go into the woods, the more my path darkens. The sun’s rays are eaten as the canopies of the trees become thicker. Shadows win against the bright light of the sun, encompassing me in cool, much-needed shade.

The further away I get from Louis, the more my memory pieces together. I’m still missing large gaps that he says he took from me on purpose. I don’t know how or why. I’m not sure if I’ll ever fully understand the power he claims to have.

What if I can’t remember because I drank too much? What if he slipped something in my drink? What if the blood I saw him drinking was a scheme, somehow?

I sway again, my foot twisting in an awkward position, and this time, when I fall, I stay on the ground. I stare up at the sky, the blue peeking through the small breaks in the branches, wondering if this will be my last day here on earth.

Choking for breath, my stomach rolls from running, from having not nearly enough blood in my system, from pushing myself when Death was already knocking on my door.

The last light stops peeking through the fingers of the trees from a quickening of clouds.

Each gasp of air I struggle to inhale reminds me of five years ago, when I watched my dad die.

He had an allergic reaction to a bee sting, and we had no idea he was allergic.

It was terrible. I don’t think I had ever been so afraid in my entire life.

The way he desperately gasped for air, croaking, needy for the smallest amount of hope.

There was none.

It was only him and me for the first twenty-three years of my life. Every picture and every memory I had was with my father. My mom died when I was a baby in a car accident.

It’s just me now.

I do have my best friend, Carmen. She comes from a huge family and always has me involved in all their get-togethers. When I didn’t come home last night, I can bet she called the cops. It isn’t like me to stay out all night or not text or call.

I’ll miss her.

Thunder rolls up above, and the cool touch of rain begins to hush around me, a soft drop against the ground. My naked body begins to shiver from the sudden decrease in temperature paired with the rain. I have to get up. I have to keep moving.

The ground becomes mud, and it slickens against my body. My palms and feet can’t get traction. I’m still so weak from whatever has happened, my head swims, and my soul has finally reached its brink.

I slip down to the edge of a small cliff…and gravity wins. The rain must be pouring harder than I thought because I slide down through the mud with ease. I spin, slamming into a tree trunk, and fire spreads up my side from the agony. The incline is too much, and I fall into the rushing river below.

Plunging into the cold water, unconsciousness pulls me under its spell while the current takes me to my final resting place.

Because my god, let this fucking day be over.