Chapter 6
Well, technically, I'm not quite a vampire yet. But yes, I know what you're thinking, I know how vampire lore works and I know the stories as well as anyone that watches those tacky horror movies that air at two in the morning.
What most humans think is that our go-to line as we huddle behind our capes, ready to fling them open to engulf you into our embrace is, 'I want to suck your blood'. You believe we're all repelled by garlic when it's hanging outside your door in long ropes like you'd find in Italy or a really good delicatessen. And you also presume that as soon as the sun touches us, every one of us burns to hell in a rising plume of smoke that leaves nothing but our ashes in a pile on the ground.
None of these things are true. Well, there might be one or two of us out there that get a thrill out of saying that line to some poor, vulnerable meal right before latching onto a nice, juicy neck. Which is really not the best source of quick, hot blood, it's the femoral artery in the thigh, but I digress.
Despite the contrary, I actually enjoy the smell and taste of garlic, caramelized with some onions on a nice, rare steak. I do not own a cape because let's be honest, no one that isn't a superhero should and even that is questionable. The closest reality to any of these myths is the sun one. Sunburns are universal, and we get them just like you - although we're more prone to the kind that makes you walk like your clothes hurt, hence the 50+ sunblock I apply even on cloudy days. Bella always made fun of me for that, and now I know why I was so sensitive.
I'm hoping that when I finally tell Bella all of this, she'll be open-minded enough to let me explain that it's not all gothic bloodletting and killing. Sure, there are true "pure" vampires out there that are quite feral, surviving solely on the blood and destruction of humans. They crave it, can't live without it, and will do anything to get it. There are also vampires that are a bit more civilized, living on the blood of animals because their empathy for human life lingers within them.
I, on the other hand, am an exception to both of these. But of course we knew that, didn't we?
My father is an incubus, which means he would've had sex with my human mother while she was sleeping (quite rude), and since I am half-human, half-incubus, I am what they call a dhampir. Dhampirs don't feed directly from humans, nor do they require as much blood as vampires do. In fact it won't be until I become a full vampire, or a Full as we call them, that my love of a good steak and a great glass of wine will diminish completely and be replaced by the desire for blood. That time will come when I choose, as it is my birthright to determine when that will be.
Here is the definition of dhampir from the Constructed Mythology of Vampire Breeds, which you will not find at your local Barnes and Noble, so don't bother searching:
Dhampir
A Gypsy born of human and vampiric parentage and usually male. Powers may be passed down paternally. These powers include vampire locating and hunting psionically. (That means psychically! Pretty cool!).
So you see, it truly was in my nature to become a hitman. What else would I do with these great powers? Hunt my own kind or God forbid, deer like a commoner?
But enough about me, I must turn my attention to Bella, and how to tell her all of this nifty stuff so that she decides I'd make an equally nifty half-breed hitman boyfriend. I'm going to have to work her over, plant myself inside her mind. I'm going to have to woo her, schmooze her, wine and dine her.
I'm going to have to seduce her.
After deciding that going to her house once she left last night was a bad idea, every hour of today I've been counting down the minutes until I know her shift starts at the bar (I know her entire schedule, actually, which I confirmed with a slick smile to the front desk girl) so I can sit there without her being able to do much about it since I'm a paying guest.
I've ignored the packet Emmett sent with my supplement, as he was the one that wanted me to be on vacation, after all, so I'll get to it once I've won Bella back, which by my calculations will be in approximately three hours because surely she won't be able to resist me much longer than that.
The bar area is busy, filled with couples - including the still attached at the mouth presumed newlyweds - and a group of rowdy girls obviously here for a bachelorette party if the glowing penis necklaces are any indication. Watching from the pool area for a while, my heart thrills at seeing Bella in what appears to be her element, slinging beers, mixing drinks, laughing and talking with her customers and the other girl she's working with. I wonder how she got here, so far from the fashion career and California she wanted. Was that solely my fault? She appears happy as she's working, but maybe it's an act for tips.
Scoping out the clientele, I wait for the guy drinking alone and looking at his phone to finally get up before slipping into the now unoccupied corner stool. Wall to my back, everyone out in front of me, exactly as I prefer and am trained to do. She doesn't see me at first, which is fine as I'm enjoying watching her cutoffs climb up her tan thighs as she reaches into the beer cooler to grab a Budweiser (ick). Her partner comes over and flashes me a smile, laying a cocktail napkin with the hotel logo out in front of me.
"Hey there! Here on vacation?"
Why is this everyone's first question? What else would I be doing here? Ignorant. "Yes."
"What can I get you?"
"Bella. Please and thank you." If my rudeness bothers her she doesn't show it, smiling and telling me she'll go get her. Does that happen so often that she's not surprised by my request? That's unsettling. She taps Bella on the shoulder and points my way. Bella's look is curious but hesitant as she turns, and I give a little wiggle of my fingers, clearly thinking she'll find it charming and carefree. Instead, her shoulders drop and it hurts me a bit more than it should. She finishes shaking the pink cocktails for the soon-to-be bride and her gaggle of screeching girlfriends, pouring out a neat line across a row of shot glasses. She rinses the mixer, wipes down the bar, and moves to the register, her delay in coming to me obvious and starting to irritate me.
Finally, she steps over to me and I sit up straighter, subconsciously rubbing my hands on my newly acquired linen pants, wishing I'd taken a Xanax before coming down. Despite my nerves, I get caught up in the way her hair shifts slightly around her temples from the fan circling above, the way it would in the sea air as she would hover over me, red lips puffy from my scruff and eyes glazed over as she came.
She looked like an angel then, and she looks like an angel now.
A direct contradiction to what I am.
"Hello, Bella. You look like you're having fun. Do you like working here?" I'm an idiot.
"What do you want, Edward?"
Easy. "You."
"To drink?"
Equally easy. "You." Heh. She'll find that funny once she knows what I am. Her head tilts to the side and I can see that little wrinkle between her eyes starting to form. "Johnny Walker Blue. Neat."
As she's pouring my scotch over by the wall of bottles lit with blue lights from underneath that reflect on her skin in the most beautiful way, I see the other bartender looking over at me while they talk. Her face looks startled, then angry, and I can only imagine what Bella has told this friend of hers about me. I'm sure she's reserved a seat in hell for me at the wrong I've done Bella, but that seat's already been built, warmed up, and broken in long before she knew about me.
My drink gets placed in front of me and before Bella can walk away, I reach out to grab her hand. "When do you get off?"
"Only when I think of anyone but you." Her lip turns up into a smirk and I take it as a good sign that she's joking with me, even if it is at the expense of my ego and manhood.
"Bullshit."
"Fuck you."
"You used to enjoy that."
"I didn't know any better. Now I do."
I pull my hand back, taking her with me so that she's leaning over the bar, closer to me as we huddle over my drink. "I don't even want to think about you with another man."
She smiles, rubs her thumb over my hand, and I feel goosebumps. "I can draw you a picture if you want. In nice, graphic detail so you don't have to think about it at all."
My grasp on her hand tightens. "That isn't funny." Being so close to her makes me want to grab her, to clutch her hair and pull her into a kiss that will flood her brain with memories.
"It's hilarious." Her eyes are raging, sparkling with ire, and knowing she's feeling something other than indifference is encouraging. She's not pulling her hand away, so I begin to stroke the soft skin between her thumb and finger like I used to whenever I held her hand.
"Tell me you don't have a man in your life, Bella. Tell me that no one warms your bed, that no one touches you like I used to." She moves in a bit closer to me, her perfectly Bella smell invading my senses and making me almost drool with stupidity. "Tell me there's been no one but me, Bella. Tell me I'm it, because you've only been it for me."
Her breathing picks up and her eyes widen slightly at my (surprising) admission, but she fooled me yesterday at her house so I don't assume I'm getting to her. I brace myself for some snappy, insulting comeback, but instead, some asshole next to me interrupts our moment asking Bella if she's okay and touching her arm. The spell is broken, and I let go of her hand, knowing how this probably looks to everyone at the bar. It's attention I do not like to receive.
"I'm fine. He's an old… acquaintance." Well, ouch.
Sneering at the guy next to us, I pull his hand off of her arm, unable to resist peeing on Bella's leg a little. "Untrue. I'm in love with her, and she's insanely in love with me. So I suggest you find some other damsel to rescue." Okay, maybe I just peed a lot. The man pales, and I know exactly how demonic I look to him right then.
"Edward!" Bella gasps as I'm staring this half-wit down. I know I'm crossing a line here and shouldn't give this guy any reason to remember me, but the vision of his hand on her skin is making my almost vampire blood boil.
"I'm sorry for my behavior," I say to the jerk with a nod of my head, even though I'm not sorry, I just don't want Bella to be upset with me for driving her business away. "Next one's on me."
"Edward!" She repeats, mouth open, her eyes wide and her hands on her cheeks, flushed with either anger or the humidity.
"What? I said I'm sorry, I'll buy the guy another-" Budweiser. Of course. "Tasteless beer."
"You can't love me!"
"Why not?"
"You left me!"
"Doesn't mean I didn't love you. I thought I explained that."
"Well you can't love me now!"
"Of course I can."
"I won't let you!"
"You have no say. What term do the rednecks use? This is 'Merica. I can do what I want."
"What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?" Her hands move to her hair and she's pulling, her feet stepping away from me as she shakes her head back and forth.
"What's the issue?" Seriously, what's the issue?
"I spent years getting over you. Years and years!" She looks like she's about to cry - or throw heavy objects. "Therapy! Shock treatments! That thing like in A Clockwork Orange where they hold your eyeballs open and show you disturbing images to remap your brain and - "
"Did it work?" I interrupt her tirade and her mouth clamps shut. "Did you forget all the good things? Did you forget what it was like to be us?"
"I…"
"Did you forget how it used to feel when we'd sit side by side, quiet with our heads pressed together, just looking at each other? Do you not remember what it was like when you'd jump in my car and climb across the seat to get in my lap because we couldn't stand not touching each other for even a five minute drive? Don't you recall how we'd float in the pond, buck naked and talk about nothing and everything?"
"I…"
"Are you free of me, Bella? Because I'll do everything in my power to catch you again. You'll always be mine."
"I…"
"You what?"
"I… I'm gonna throw up!" She turns quickly and runs behind the wall of bottles, her co-worker looking after her retreating form and then narrowing in on me.
"What did you do?" she says, all ready to give me hell.
Ignoring her, I leave my stool and cross behind the wall that separates the bar from the beach, walking down a roped-off path towards the closed stretch of sand. It's dark, the moonlight reflecting off the water is the only source of light, but my half-vamp and hitman trained eyes clearly see Bella leaning against a palm tree, hunched over with her hands on her knees.
Against every fiber in my being, I make noise so that I won't startle her by sliding next to her silently as I'm skilled to do. "Ahem."
She straightens, and I see her hand come up under her eye. I still, horrified that I might've made her cry. "Go away, Edward."
"Are you crying?"
"No, I threw up." Ew. "You make me vomit, Edward. That's the exact opposite reaction I think you were going for."
Well that's not good. This is not going how I planned, but I'm still only one hour into my three hour estimate of winning her back. "I'm sorry."
"For what? For showing up or for not being dead like I truly hoped you were all of these years?"
"Surely you don't mean that, Bella. How could you wish me dead?"
She turns away, showing me her back as she stares out over the water softly lapping at the shoreline. Her voice is suddenly void of its fire. "It was easier than thinking you left me because you chose to."
That's it.
Grabbing her quickly, I hoist her easily over my shoulder, an almost scream catching in her throat in a sputtering cough. I march towards my room, not caring who sees (I'm completely defying the hitman rulebook) and don't let go of her until I've gotten her seated firmly in the chair she was in last night on my balcony.
Pulling my chair over with a scrape against the cement, I sit and lean my elbows on my knees, so close they're touching hers.
"So, have you ever heard of the term dhampir?"
Here goes nothing.
Huge thanks as always to my GIF-loving pre-reader, LayAtHomeMom, and my favorite person/muse/beta, CarrieZM. Without them I am nothing.
And without you, I am just a bunch of unread words in cyberspace.
