Since it was only six in the morning, Sasuke bandaged my hand and we both went back to sleep. I awoke once more around noon to use the restroom, and we slept until around five in the afternoon.

I scrambled to the shower, the thought of fresh clothes and lack of towel escaping my mind. I turned up the hot all the way and yelped as the heat hit my injured hand, dropping my soap. My wild curls relaxed as the water hit them, and I shampooed and conditioned and soaped up my body. I shaved and rinsed, and threw one hand against the wall in search of my towel. The towel I left on the bed.

"Sasuke!" I pitched my voice so that he would hear me.
"What?!" he yelled back.

"Can you hand me the towel that's sitting on the bed?" I asked. A few seconds later, he walked in with the towel, a little grumpy from having been told what to do.

The shower curtain was a deep burgundy, and hard to see through, matching the rich orange-cream of the walls with a swirly blood red trim. I stuck one hand out and grabbed the towel from him.

He left, and I dried off and walked back into the room to grab my clothes. I was planning on changing in the bathroom.

When I stepped out, Sasuke was cooking the low grade steaks I bought on the stove with one burner that the room provided. He was wearing only sweatpants and a scowl of concentration. No shirt.

It was quite a sight to behold. For living around men for so long, I had very few experiences with bare chests that weren't bloody, scared or disgusting. Sasuke's chest was masculine perfection.

It was as simple as that.

My throat tickled, and I coughed. He whirled around and he looked like he almost dropped his spatula.

His expression was totally star struck. I grabbed my clothes and sprinted back to the bathroom, heart pounding. Our mission was too important to jeopardize with romantic feelings.

So, like always, my mask went back on, and I let myself act like he was nothing to me still. I had been doing it to other people I loved for years.

---

I came out dressed for the sweaty and tense atmosphere of the club we were going to tonight, and Sasuke took control of the bathroom. He came out half an hour later completely dressed, and looking wicked in an unbuttoned shirt over a band tee and black jeans just a size too big. I was wearing a skirt to mid-thigh and a loose, seventies-inspired shirt that hung off my shoulders. My hair was pinned up in an elaborate up-so with two concealed needles acting as chopsticks. My flat shoes laced up to my knees, and I thought I looked like I could catch someone's eye.

Tonight, we were looking for a head of the Akatsuki horse.

Inside, I half prayed we wouldn't find him.

---

The club was even worse now that we were inside it. The hormones wafting off of the humans were making my own blood race, and I wanted to join the crowd.

I wanted to press myself up against someone I didn't know and suck every drop of blood out of their—No! Bad thoughts! I am not a vampire!

I shook my head once to clear my head, and Sasuke grabbed my arm, motioning towards the bar. Our best bet would be the bartender. AS we avoided the heavier clusters of humans, and skirted piles of vomit, I saw a flash of long honey blonde hair. When I turned to look, a man whose face had haunted my nightmares was grinning and leaning against a wall on the opposite side of the bar. His hair was well past his shoulders, but it was the eye that caught me. The electric blue eye filled with madness and a sick pleasure from seeing me.

I didn't let him notice I had spotted him but I felt a chill run down my spine like an ice cube. I looked up at Sasuke to tell him about him, I knew that man was a vampire, but when I looked back he was gone.

I shuddered once more as we reached the bartender, a pale, red-headed man of around his mid-twenties. His frosty green eyes were blank of emotion, and the smell off of him was of a vampire.

A very old vampire, too.

Sasuke took the lead for this too; he had a little more experience in communication with these types, the types that trafficked with humans and blood, that spirited humans away to keep them in a constant pleasurable torment.

Getting fed off of is supposed to be one of the more enjoyable sensations. Insert a gag here.

Sasuke was delicately trying to insert the black market into the conversation, but with the bartender's apparent lack of emotions, I couldn't tell if he was onto us, just mildly interested, or not even interested at all.

Red's attention shifted to me, and for once I saw through him. His eyes widened in madness, and I also remembered his face. He was the one I saw—

God, oh God. No. No no no no no—

I got up from the bar and headed into the bathroom, feeling faint. I leaned against the counter, head reeling with memories I wish I could forget. Darkness, the smell of warm blood and my sister's hair pressed up against my cheek, the feeling of cold hands prying, children screaming, bloodcurdling—a single electric blue eye—

I dashed into a stall, emptying the contents of my stomach. It looked like too rare steak that had been put through a blender. Gross.

I washed my face, carefully avoiding my makeup, and dried my hand on the back of my neck. I wonder if vampires can smell fear, or even vomit?

I came back out to the bar, and Sasuke was ordering two Bloody Marys for us. I grabbed it, thankful, and took a huge gulp to steady my nerves. The shock of blood made me almost spit it back up, but…it tasted….so good.

Sasuke threw his arm around my shoulders, and I listened to the conversation.

"So, which warehouse wound my purchases be found in?" Sasuke asked Red.

"Warehouse 11A. Don't come before ten, that place can be a little nasty for the faint of heart." He replied, shooting a glance in my direction. "Who's this?"
"Her name is Miko. She's with me."

"She has a most unusual hair color. How did you come to possess it?" he directed the question at me.

I giggled, pretending to be vapid, just another club floozy.

"It's dye, silly. I've never met anyone else with pink hair, fake or otherwise." I giggled again for good measure, twirling a curl around a finger in what I hoped was an adorable way, not a nervous habit kind of way.

I sipped more at my Bloody Mary, while Sasuke finished getting the coordinates. As it neared three in the morning, Sasuke and I joined the humans on the dance floor, keeping a tense distance between us.

More than once, he tried putting his hand on my shoulder. Twice, I evaded it. The third time, I gave in, and let his warm hand make my skin buzz comfortably. I could be cold again when I was sober.