Page 3 of Pretty Fly for a Vampire Guy

Chapter

Three

CLAY

W ell, hello , nerdy-sexy human. Wouldn’t it be nice to sink my teeth into your neck.

Behind tortoiseshell, plastic-rimmed glasses, a brown-eyed beauty blinks at me. He has dark brown hair with a curl I want to tug on, and gorgeous, velvety, dark brown skin. He’s wearing neat jeans and a buttoned-up, tucked-in plaid shirt with navy blue sneakers.

A thrill races through my body, because damn .

He smells sweet, like maybe vanilla mixed with nutmeg.

His pulse beats fast in his neck, so loudly I can hear it.

My fangs pop out, and my smile slowly builds.

What I wouldn’t give to drink from him instead of a cold bag of O-negative from the cafeteria.

But I don’t drink from humans without their consent. Or do anything else without consent.

I’d like to see what he’d let me do to him, though.

He’s smaller than me, but hardly skinny. He doesn’t appear to be athletic, but I don’t care about that. I’d simply love to see what’s under those clothes. My fingers tingle with the need to touch him. Taste him. Taste his blood.

Stop staring, Clay .

Also, stop getting ahead of yourself.

He’s unabashedly studying me. Figures. I’m kind of used to that.

I hold out a hand, lowering my voice. “Clay Cannon. Sorry I was late. I left my phone in my room and had to go back for it. Then I couldn’t find the classroom. Nice to meet you.”

The cute man cocks his head to one side and bites his lip, studying my outstretched hand.

I frown. Everyone else in the room seems to be chatting up their neighbor.

Is there something wrong with me? Maybe he doesn’t like monsters? Or vampires? Or is it just me?

My hand is its normal pale bluish color. What’s going on?

I clear my throat. Finally, after what feels like hours, he shakes my hand with a firm grip. Monster god, his palm is toasty warm, and it sends a funny burst of energy up my body. “Owen Bhat. B-H-A-T.”

Okay, even his voice is sexy—a little raspy, but deep and soothing.

Clapping his shoulder, I say, “Bhat man! Awesome!”

Owen juts out his jaw, his tone tart. “It’s Owen. Not Bhat man.”

Shit . Oops. Didn’t mean to offend him. I nod a few times. “Cool, cool. Whatever you say.” The professor is now staring at me, and I mime zipping my lips and face forward, slumped in the seat, my legs spread. “Sorry, professor.”

“That’s quite all right,” she says, and the class quiets down to listen. “Now that we’re settled, I’d like to go over what you can expect from this class.”

Thus begins the first hour of torture from being near this beguiling human. He’s sitting so tantalizingly close to me, yet so far away. I don’t remember the last time I was this distracted by a human. Maybe when I was first turned? Because this feeling of want is intolerable. Utterly intolerable.

While we’re supposed to be taking notes and paying attention to the kinds of monster anatomy we’re going to learn about, all I want to do is inspect a few parts of the human anatomy of the man next to me. With my tongue. And my fangs. I’m salivating.

Quit it, Clay, or you’ll be giving the whole class a demonstration of what your own anatomy can do when you’re aroused.

I do my best to focus on the professor, but it’s hard, pun intended. The minotaur sitting behind me can probably smell my arousal and is now clued in to my predicament. Whatever.

Then the professor turns to the part of the syllabus about vampires. “We will be covering not only the parts of a vampire that are modified for blood-feeding, but the unique adaptations that allow a vampire to glide or fly along wind currents.”

I stay stock still, but I want to groan. Not this again . When people come across monsters, they have certain expectations. Werewolves shift when there’s a full moon. Merfolk swim with ease. Bird shifters are lactose intolerant. And vampires drink blood and fly.

The prof eyes me. “I’m sure we’ll be able to have insightful comments from any vampires in the class.”

Hesitantly, I nod and then look around. Everyone’s staring at me, and it’s not because of my water polo prowess.

Dammit.

But then my partner shifts in his seat so our thighs brush, and I really want to groan.

Down, boy , I tell my dick. It doesn’t listen, and now I need to listen to the rest of the professor’s lesson with a tent in my pants.

At the end of the lecture, Owen turns to me, but he doesn’t look me in the eye. “Um, I think we should exchange phone numbers,” he mutters.

Visions flash through my mind of taking this man out on a date, then fucking him into oblivion.

Not that he’s given me any indication he’s interested. Except…

Let’s review the facts: One, he’s asking for my number. And two, I know he was aware of me this entire time. His breathing quickened and his skin was flushed. His tongue kept darting out to touch his lips, and he kept lifting his chin up, exposing his neck and that delicious vein.

Gah .

Owen’s poking his tongue into his cheek, which isn’t helping my thoughts. Oh, he’s waiting for me.

“You know,” he continues. “For our joint projects?”

“Yeah, I got it. Sure.”

I give him a sheepish smile and recite my number while still sitting, so I can hide my erection under the desk. He texts me.

Unknown number

Hey, this is Owen Bhat

My fingers hover over my phone screen to text back when my phone lets out the distinctive notification sound for WereScruff.

Shit . I hit ignore, save his name as Sexy Human Lab Partner, and text him back.

Me

Got it!

I rub the back of my neck. “See you in class, then.”

“Yeah, see you.” Owen grabs his bag, slings it over his shoulder, and walks off, his ass delectable in those jeans .

I shake my head slightly, then stand and adjust myself now that the class is mostly empty.

Get a grip, horndog.

Polo practice today is after classes but before dinner. Water polo’s winding down for the season, but we have exhibitions and scrimmages left. The Creelin pool complex is indoors, and on a snowy January day like today, the windows are extra fogged up.

In the locker room, I strip out of my clothes and tug on my extra-tight Speedo, then bang my locker closed. I don’t need goggles—the salt water isn’t irritating.

What is vaguely irritating is Nick MacGregor, the Loch Ness Monster shifter who’s on the team. He grins at me. “I know something you don’t know.”

I huff. “What is this, first grade?”

He chuckles, his Scottish accent thicker than usual. “I went to a dorm party this weekend, and you featured heavily.”

“Oh?” I grab my towel from the bench and walk with him the short distance out to the pool area. Brandon and the n?kk are already in the water, horseplaying along with a few others from the team. I love our camaraderie. “How so?”

“Aye, a certain human was giving a presentation at the party on how sexy he thought vampires were, and you were one of the examples.”

I stop short, and he almost bumps into me. “Really?”

He nods. “Seems like he was very into wet, hot vampire jocks. He had a HowlerPoint Presentation and everything. ”

“Why on Earth was someone giving a full presentation at a party?”

Nick shrugs. “Why not? It was fun. And he definitely has a crush on you.”

“This is utterly delightful. Who was the guy?” My towel goes on the bleachers, and I pad over to the water.

Nick also puts his towel down and jumps into the pool. When he comes up for air, he says, “He didn’t tell me his name, but I think they said it was Owen.”

Huh . That’s interesting. But there has to be more than one person named Owen at this school. “What did he look like?”

“I’d call him bookish. Dark hair. Medium build. Not tall.”

A smirk breaks out on my face. So my sexy little lab partner has a crush on me. Good thing for him, the feeling’s mutual.