Chapter Two

Chapter Two

The feelings from the bar wouldn’t leave me alone that night. I got home to my tiny bedroom in the house I was sharing with other tenants, but there were no distracting conversations to be had there. I was living with people I barely knew, even after three months. Our hours were different. They were early starters. The four of us were like passing ships in the night.

I could have really done with a friend to chat with. Such a shame I didn’t have any yet in London, and as for family. Well, I’d have been better off grabbing a stranger from the street to talk with than calling my mum up in Orcop. Grandma would be hissing in the background behind her, calling me a stupid girl yet again for moving away from home.

London is crawling with sinners, Katherine!

The other tenants were already locked away in their bedrooms, no doubt fast asleep as I made jam on toast. I took it to bed and munched while I watched mindless videos on my phone. Snippets of The Vampire Diaries came up amongst random funny cat videos, which wasn’t all that helpful in shifting the prickles. Usually mindless scrolling was enough that I’d sink away into dreamland, but the edginess, and the heat, and the flushes wouldn’t ease off.

I’d picture Hans’ face and I’d get crazy flutters, heart pounding as I remembered his words.

I’m interested in you.

His smile. His perfect teeth. His laugh. I could see him speaking those words with crystal clarity.

No.

I was going insane.

Scrolling through videos stood no chance whatsoever of distracting me, so I ran a bath, praying that the steam from the water would relax my mind, but still nothing. The prickles kept on coming.

I was so hot that I put on a satin slip of a nightdress for bed instead of cosy PJs. A white flimsy thing I hadn’t worn since the height of summer.

It didn’t help. I tossed and turned, covers on and off, cursing my brain for churning.

I’m interested inyou.

There was only one thing for it – to embrace the vampire fantasies and let them work their magic. Hans was the obvious choice, but imagining him biting my neck was just too much. It sent shivers through my whole body, so intensely that slipping my fingers down between my legs felt like vicious electric, so strong that I couldn’t bear it. It was so bizarre that I kept on trying, only to reinforce the truth.

I couldn’t touch myself thinking about him.

It didn’t make any sense. It felt like my body was punishing me for daring to think about it. As though some weird force was forbidding me to touch myself and think of his voice.

Insane. Just… no. No.

I gave myself a shake, determined to put Hans out of my mind.

I reverted to my usual fantasy fuel and put on the beginning of Interview with the Vampire, watching as Lestat dripped vampire blood into Louis’ desperate mouth, which would invariably work like romantic filth for me. It was a whole fresh round of shock when it didn’t work. Not even Lestat and Louis could take my mind away from Hans Weyer.

I couldn’t handle the disappointment of Gary Oldman failing to distract me, so I abandoned my phone and kept on tossing and turning, cursing sleep for giving me the middle finger.

I have no idea when sleep did finally hold out a hand and grace me, but the transition into dreamland was sharp. I was tumbling deep and fast when I felt cold cobblestones under my feet. Yes. I recognised them. Hyde Street, on the way home from Regency. I’d walked along that street plenty of times on my way home from work, but never barefoot. It was cold and mossy, and the place looked different, despite the buildings being similar. It was hard to make out for certain in the dark, but it felt older, as though I’d stepped back in time.

I turned around on the spot to check things out, goosebumps up my arms and freezing cold, since I was still in a satin slip that barely grazed my thighs. It felt so real that I looked down to find my nipples were hard in the chill, and true to life – just like in bed – I wasn’t wearing any panties. Even in dreamland it freaked me out – feeling so exposed.

I glanced around, checking the road. Thank God, there was nobody there to see me.

Nobody there in view didn’t mean there was nobody there in the flesh, though…

I felt the gaze of someone. Something. And in one cold, hard flash I was slammed with memories I’d been trying to forget for years. So many shivers up my back that I’d had at random points through my life, always getting the feeling of being watched by someone. Something.

Mum would tell me I should stop making up stories, with Grandma cursing behind her and saying I was a silly little girl who should be told off more, and so I’d stopped voicing them. Stopped daring to speak them out loud.

Tonight, that feeling was stronger than I’d ever known, and my heart took on a life of its own, ready for fight or flight.

When I heard footsteps on the cobblestones my senses made the decision for me. Flight. Most definitely, definitely FLIGHT.

I bolted as quickly as I could, hair loose and tumbling as the soles of my feet took the force of the ground. Wet moss, and cold stone, and the sound of my breaths running as wild as I was.

I was being chased.

The footsteps behind me were heavier than mine, and much, much faster.

Shit. Shit. SHIT.

I ran harder, trying to scream, but it didn’t work. My screams were silent, even though I could feel the force of them slamming right through my throat.

That sealed my fate, and I knew it. Nobody was going to save me – nothing except my own determination.

Panic and terror were enough to give me an insane energy rush. I sprinted with everything I had, but the turning onto Keel Avenue didn’t come. The street kept looming ahead, but no matter how hard I tried, and no matter how fast I ran, I just couldn’t reach it. There were only cobblestones and desperation, with an increased sense of knowing.

I knew I was going to get caught.

I knew my running was futile.

Still, my spirit fought on.

It felt almost as though the heavy footsteps behind were playing with me, holding back just enough to enjoy my efforts. Still, I tried to scream. Still, there was only silence.

The cobblestones kept on coming, the buildings reappearing on loop. I kept giving everything, gaining nothing, and slowly, slowly, slowly, I could feel my spirit weakening.

No. NO.

I fought it some more.

My silent screams were louder but useless. My feet were hurting, but kept on running, running, running until I couldn’t take it anymore.

Finally, I buckled and stopped.

I pressed myself against a timber framed building, my back against a thick wooden door. My hair felt tangled and my nipples were like bullets, still freezing cold despite the fact that I was sweating and panting for breath, clouds of steam around me like fog in the air.

I looked up and down the street, preparing myself for my attacker, but the footsteps had stopped. A fresh prickle ran up my spine.

I was being watched. They were still there. Waiting in the shadows.

Panting, heart pounding, I glanced around, waiting for the inevitable…

Who the hell was watching me?

Who the hell had been watching me like this my whole life?

My instincts knew the answer before I did. I recognised his voice before he stepped into view.

“Have you finished fleeing yet, Katherine?”

I folded my arms over my breasts. His smirk was enough to make me shudder.

He looked even more striking under the moonlight. His smile was brighter, his eyes piercing green. His suit immaculate. His dark hair sheening. But he looked different in these surroundings, as if we’d been transported back a hundred years.

“It’s you,” I managed, pointing out the obvious.

“Yes,” he said, and stepped up closer. “It’s always been me.”

Of course. The sensations came tumbling. The instinctive recognition when I’d first seen him step up to the bar in Regency. The pounding of my heart as though I knew him, even though I’d never seen him before in my life. I’d blocked it out as nothing, and it had worked. I’d busied myself in my working life, just like I should have.

I kept looking up and down the street, contemplating whether my feet would be willing to carry me.

Hans tutted as he read my mind.

“You really want to run, do you?”

I nodded in a flash, adrenaline buzzing.

He tutted again, placed a hand to his heart.

“Really, Katherine. I held you true to your word.”

Oh no.

NO.

Any instinctive recognition I’d had before faded to nothing in comparison to how I felt as he stepped closer and smiled. I saw… fangs. And they weren’t shitty plastic.

My voice was barely more than a whisper when it came out of me.

“You’re a vampire.”

“Bravo,” he said and applauded with slow claps, but there was no malice in it. “So, now you have to ask yourself, which came first? Me, or your vampire crushes? The chicken or the egg?”

My thoughts swirled, trying to make sense of it. I tried to put it into words, but I sounded like a fool.

“You mean you’re the reason I’m obsessed with vampires? But how? I’ve been obsessed with vampires since I was a kid watching cartoons on TV.”

I could feel the heat from him as he stepped up in front of me, held my arms tighter to my chest, one hand to my throat.

“Trust me, fate and bloodlines are a lot deeper running than you could imagine. Your obsession with vampires isn’t something that you randomly fell into. It was in your veins from the very moment you were born.”

My questions were scary, even to speak them.

“And how about you? Were you watching me from the very moment I was born?”

“I’ve been watching you a lot longer than that, little girl. I’ve been watching you since you were nothing more than a tiny spark of life in a family chain.”

I couldn’t fathom it, so I didn’t even try.

This is a dream, I told myself. Wake up, Katherine. This is a dream!

Hans read my mind again.

“At least you’re using the word dream and not nightmare.”

“Stop it!” I said. “I can’t think straight.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I don’t think many people would be thinking straight in your position.”

Shit. I was so confused. My blood was throbbing so fiercely that I could feel my pulse in my neck, but of course I would. I was standing in front of a freaking vampire.

Hans’ voice was much lower this time.

“The question is, little one, did you really mean it? Would you truly like to be bitten by a vampire?”

I shook my head, but the pull was magnetic. I let out a whimper that sounded nothing like fear.

Hans ran his hand down my shoulder, and I shot a glance at his beautiful fingers at the same time as my arms dropped to my sides of their own accord.

“I don’t just bite,” he said, his eyes moving to my nipples, poking through the fabric of my slip. “I have many more needs than blood.”

“Like what?” I whispered back, my breasts tingling like crazy.

“How about you let me kiss you and find out?”

He tipped my chin up, his face so close I could feel his breath on my lips.

“Let me kiss you, Katherine.”

I was frantic with terror under the bliss of tingles, but the pull was too strong to deny. His mouth moved closer, and mine opened just a little, and his lips brushed hot but gently against mine.

And then he kissed me.

Hans Jacob Weyer, the vampire, kissed me.

His body pinned mine, and his mouth claimed me, his tongue dancing in brutal rhythm. I responded like the girl who’d been dreaming of vampires since I was young, desperate for more.

I moaned as I tasted him. Moaned as his fingers stroked over my nipples. Parted my legs as his fingers trailed their way down my slip, crying out against his mouth as he found the right spot.

He was even better with my clit than I was.

“So, did you mean it?” he whispered between kisses. “Do you really want to be bitten by a vampire?”

Desperation knew no bounds. I was squirming against him, panting with need. My clit was alive, and my skin was thrumming all over, and my head wanted to nod with a life of its own.

But that’s what it was in me. Life.

I was alive. And I definitely didn’t want to let that go.

My spirit fought back like a burst of flames.

“NO!” I screamed, and shoved him away from me. “NO! I don’t want to be bitten by a vampire!”

I expected Hans to pull me back to him, or run after me, but he didn’t. I charged away up the cobblestones with painful feet, and this time around Keel Avenue came into view, just like normal. The street was lit up with the regular street lights, and my shared house was exactly where it should be at the end of the road.

The front door was wide open. I didn’t need keys.

My steps were thumping on the stairs and my breaths were loud on my way up, but nobody stepped out of their bedrooms.

I threw myself in bed and pulled the covers up high, repeating my thoughts like a mantra.

This is a dream. This is a dream. This is a STUPID FUCKING DREAM.

And then I woke up.

I sat bolt upright in bed, knowing that the illusion was over. I was back in my body, for real.

It was a dream. A stupid fucking dream.

Fuck, it took some time for me to calm down. I flicked on my bedside lamp and cursed the night terrors. I called up the time on my phone to find it was 4 a.m. and London traffic was rumbling a little outside, just like usual.

What a fucking dream that was.

I wondered if I’d had some kind of reaction to jam on toast, like processed strawberries had even the slightest chance of being a hallucinogen. That at least made me giggle a little out loud.

Eventually, it was time for sleep round two, so I opted for a trip to the bathroom first, to save the urge to pee before breakfast.

I didn’t need to see my feet as I dropped them down onto the carpet. The sensation told me all I needed to know.

I held my breath and closed my eyes, bracing myself to take it, and then I faced it.

I opened my eyes and looked down, and yes. I was right.

There was dirt all over the carpet, and moss still trapped between my toes.