Kiss Me, Kill Me Page 13

  I zoned out, imagining Greg rubbing his penis on all the parts of my body. Then I twigged. ‘Um, so you’re talking about me ingesting your blood?’

  ‘Yes.’ There was a pause while he watched me. ‘Remember, you’ve done it before, Ana. And you’ve had a lot of it.’

  ‘But that was when you were trying to keep me alive. And I actually don’t remember any of it.’

  ‘I know.’ He stroked my face softly. His gaze became unfocussed and I knew he was back in the past, reliving the events that had almost led to my death. It pains him a great deal when the subject comes up. I do my best to avoid bringing it up.

  ‘I’m not sure I should be doing that. I mean the drinking-blood part, not the penis-rubbing part,’ I clarified.

  Greg blinked and snapped out of the place where girlfriend-containing cars drove off cliffs. He cleared his throat. ‘You have another two whole weeks of walking around.’ He looked at me thoughtfully. ‘You should enjoy some of the perks of having a vampire for a boyfriend.’

  ‘Oh, believe me, I have been enjoying the perks. Very much.’ I waggled my brows at him.

  Greg smirked. ‘There are downsides, too. And being able to make you feel better is something I’d be happy to do—if you’d let me.’

  It dawned on me that Greg being the vampire in this relationship notwithstanding, I was the one who’d ingested a large amount of his blood. While he’d hardly had any of mine. Weird. And even weirder, I was contemplating having more of his red stuff. I suppose we swapped other body fluids during sex, what was one more? And this was for medicinal purposes. It would be fine. Perfectly fine. Really.

  ‘Alright. Do your magic on me.’

  I expected Greg would bite his wrist and hold it to my mouth. Instead, he took a deep breath, sucked in his cheeks and scrunched his lids closed.

  ‘Greg?’

  ‘Kiss me,’ he ordered gruffly.

  ‘Um, okay?’

  I pressed my lips to his. He wasted no time pushing his tongue into my mouth. The moment he did it, I tasted his blood.

  As our mouths moved against each other’s, I found myself enjoying more than the sensation of Greg’s lips on mine and the tingling electricity we generated each time we came together.

  The iron flavour of his blood became less prominent, or I got used to it. Something strange was occurring, at any rate. I began licking along Greg’s tongue and around the inside of his mouth.

  The more blood I consumed, the more I wanted it.

  I sucked that tongue of his as if it was my new purpose in life.

  Too soon, Greg pulled himself from me.

  ‘Ah…sorry,’ I said, swiping a droplet of blood from my lower lip. With my tongue. Waste not, want not and all that.

  ‘That’s okay.’ He stared at me intently for what seemed a long time. ‘So, you like the taste of my blood?’

  ‘Um, it’s fine,’ I answered, staring at the floor. Want more. WTF is happening here?

  ‘Hmmm, interesting,’ was all he said before he got up and headed towards the door.

  Our trip to the Trevi Fountain was a quiet one. I was remembering the finger-sucking episode, where Greg almost hadn’t stopped drinking. After he’d apologised, he’d kissed me. I had tasted my own blood in his mouth, and I’d deemed it quite tasty.

  I hadn’t mentioned it to Greg because it had freaked me the hell out. I’d put it down to the fact that Greg had given me large amounts of his vampire blood to heal me and keep me alive post-accident, and it was the vamp stuff in me that made me enjoy the taste of blood. I wondered if I had traces of whatever it was that made vamps crave blood still floating around in my system.

  Greg being quiet was possibly due to the fact that he was wondering who wore the vampire pants in our relationship.

  We arrived at the fountain just in time. After we’d been there for only a few minutes, the lights were turned on. The effect was almost as if light had a sound, because the second the fountain was illuminated, all the tourists collectively gasped. The Fontana di Trevi is, without a doubt, the most spectacular fountain in Rome.

  Greg and I each tossed a coin into the fountain. Legend has it that whoever does this will assure their return to Rome. As we were walking away, Greg stated that he was one hundred percent sure we would be returning to Rome. Then he gave me the exact date. It was to be in fourteen days’ time, when we returned from our travels around Italy to spend three days before leaving for home. I vowed we would return to the fountain at that time and throw in another coin, thereby ensuring an additional visit at some other time in the future.

  Walking along the Via Condotti, I admired the designer clothes in the windows of the boutiques we passed. I tried not to ogle the merchandise too longingly. Although I found much of it aesthetically pleasing, it was giving off a you’re-dreaming-if-you-imagine-you-can-afford-me vibe. I did stop, however, to check out a stunning pair of shoes in one store window.

  These babies had high heels made of dark wood, a black and tan animal-print velvet strap across the toes, and two matching straps that crisscrossed up the leg and were tied at mid-calf. They were in no uncertain terms fuck-me shoes. Classy, expensive fuck-me shoes. And I adored them.

  Greg pushed me into the store and made me try them on. I’ll admit he didn’t have to twist my arm so very hard.

  I walked out of the store not long after, clutching a bag holding the most extravagant shoe purchase of my life.

  ‘I really like them,’ Greg said as he nodded his head in the direction of my new shoes.

  ‘They’re fab, aren’t they? I’m just wondering what I’m going to wear them with.’

  ‘I want to see you wearing nothing else apart from those shoes.’

  ‘I believe that can be arranged.’ Yeah, baby. I’ll be arranging that the minute I step into our hotel room.

  Soon, we reached the Spanish Steps. We took photos there, as well as some selfies in front of the house beside the steps where Keats and Shelley had lived.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ Greg asked.

  ‘Hungry,’ I answered with zeal.

  There was amusement in his eyes when he said, ‘We’ll go somewhere for dinner in a minute. But I was wondering how you’re feeling after that aperitif you had back at the hotel?’

  ‘Oh?’ I focussed on my feet. I hadn’t even been aware of them as I’d been walking around, in that way you’re usually unaware of all the parts of your body when they’re in good working order. ‘Wow. My feet are actually feeling great. I could strap on my new stilettos and tap dance up and down these steps right now.’

  Greg smirked. ‘You can tap dance?’

  ‘I reckon I could give it a go.’ I did an energetic skip and hop up and down a few steps.

  ‘Hey there, Ginger, let’s take it easy for a minute.’ Greg grabbed me up in his arms.

  ‘Let me get my stilettos on. I’ll show you what I’m capable of.’

  ‘No, you will not.’

  With Greg standing one step below where I’d been a minute ago, holding me up so I was higher than him, staring at me with those twinkly emerald-green eyes of his, and curving his luscious lips at me, I felt I was on top of the world. I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. I took time to simply drink in his gorgeousness and magnificence. To appreciate the moment. To appreciate being me.

  After a while, I finally spoke. ‘You know what, Greg? I feel fantastic. Not only my feet—all of me. Although I’d better be careful in case I become addicted to it. To you,’ I added in a whisper.

  ‘I don’t mind if you become addicted to me. I’m addicted to you.’ He stared at me longingly.

  I knew exactly what was going through his head. Wanting to change the topic, I almost mentioned we should go get dinner. Then thought better of it. Bringing up the subject of getting food when Greg was feasting his eyes on me in such a hungry manner wasn’t the best idea.

  Luckily, after a few tense moments of Greg eyeing me the way I would eye a brand-new ball of Edam cheese (like he w
anted to tear off my wrapping and devour me with a couple of sesame-topped crackers), he lowered me to the ground and we set off to find a place to eat.

  We caught a taxi to an area called Trastevere. The driver dropped us off outside a small square surrounded by restaurants. The scene was like something out of a movie. All the restaurants had tables outside, which were covered in red and white chequered tablecloths and topped with candles. It was picturesque and perfect. And I could see people eating pasta, so I was all in.

  Once we were seated, Greg ordered two glasses of Chianti.

  ‘You don’t have to get me drunk to get into my pants, you know,’ I stated. Honestly, the man didn’t have to do anything to get into my pants, not even removing of the pants. I’d happily do that for him, lickety-split.

  He only gave me a smug half-grin in response. He knew the way of things.

  When the wine arrived, I watched as Greg took one of the glasses and put it to his lips. He tasted it. ‘Mmmm, it’s good,’ he murmured before taking another sip.

  ‘Are you supposed to drink that? I mean…can you?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m going to give it a try.’

  I had no idea what his body would do with the alcohol, but at least he looked less conspicuous than he usually did, sitting at the table and not touching anything.

  Almost as if reading my mind, he said, ‘I feel a bit more human at present. Usually, when I sit in a restaurant, I have the notion that I don’t really belong there.’

  His left hand was resting on the tabletop. I reached over, placing my hand on top of his. I stroked. ‘You belong wherever you want to be. And you always belong with me.’

  I received a breathtaking smile and an eye twinkle.

  I hoped he could metabolise the wine. I wanted to sit and behold him over restaurant tables forever.

  When the waiter arrived to take our orders, I asked for the cannelloni and Greg ordered a salad.

  ‘Are you going to attempt eating as well?’ I inquired.

  ‘No, you’re going to eat it. I’m merely keeping up appearances.’

  ‘Ah. And after all the trouble I went to, getting Lina to teach me how to say, ‘He’s on a diet’ in Italian.’

  ‘Don’t forget that one. It’ll come in handy now and again.’

  After dinner, Greg and I strolled along the streets of Trastevere. Lina had suggested we visit the old Jewish Ghetto area, which retained the authentic atmosphere of old Rome.

  We were walking hand in hand along one particularly narrow cobbled street when Greg suddenly froze. He gripped my hand with such vigour, I thought he would crush my fingers.

  I didn’t say a word; I don’t think I even breathed.

  Greg seemed to be listening for something as he scanned the street. I peered around but didn’t see anything. The place was totally deserted.

  ‘Shit!’ Greg whispered.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked, alarmed.

  ‘Vampire. I can sense it. Them,’ he corrected after a pause. ‘I’m sure there are two. They’re old. Powerful.’

  We’d had no qualms about wandering the deserted streets at night, believing that Greg, with his supernatural abilities, need not be in fear of anyone. We hadn’t taken into account that there might be others of his kind lurking about in the dark.

  I scanned our surroundings. I’d been lulled into a false sense of security by the cobblestone paving, rustic stone walls, and surrounding quaint Italian buildings. But essentially, we were in an alley. Bad shit happened in alleys.

  I’d once rushed into one at night, planning to stop a man from raping a young girl. Turned out there were four men. I’d managed to take one down. Things had then gotten dicey. Luckily, Greg had stormed in and saved my ass.

  Another time, I’d felt as if Greg had killed me in an alley. That was the blonde-with-the-femoral-artery biz. I aspire not to think about that episode because the visual still punches me in the gut and tries to tear me apart even though I understand what happened.

  Now we were in an alley, and apparently there were vampires.

  Alleys: the bloody things were going to be the death of me.

  I take that back! I yelled in my head. It was not the time to be entertaining thoughts of things making me die.

  The next second, Greg snatched me up and we were suddenly moving at high speed in the direction from which we had come. Before I even had a chance to react badly to the high velocity, Greg came to a bone-jarring stop.

  Two people—or vampires, rather—were blocking the exits from the alley. On one side was a male with unkempt, long, dark hair and a beard. He stared unblinkingly at Greg.

  On the opposite side, a female, who had dark eyes and long, also-unkempt brown hair.

  The pair of them had a sinewy, wiry appearance, and their full black attire was ripped and covered in dirt. These were the kind of vampires you’d expect to find living in a cemetery. If you were in fact expecting to find vampires. Which we categorically were not.

  Greg set me on my feet. Fear was stamped clearly all over his features.

  ‘Don’t be afraid,’ I said in a low voice. ‘You can fight them. You’re a trained fighter. And remember, you’ve had the blood of a very old vampire. That makes you incredibly strong.’ And then my pep talk was abruptly over. My brain decided it was too damn scared to be troubled with anything else in the words department.

  ‘I’m not afraid for myself, Ana. I can fight. But there are two of them. I’m afraid for you.’ His voice caught.

  ‘Greg,’ I whispered, tears springing forth.

  The female lifted her face towards the sky and inhaled deeply. I presumed she was sniffing me out.

  She smiled at me—a wide, fixed affair that made chills run up my spine.

  Greg’s upper body hunched over and he hissed so loudly that it made me jump. The sound was purely animal.

  The vampires came closer.

  The urge to attempt scaling the wall to get out of there was huge.

  I longed for a weapon of some sort—a stake, or a sword for beheading. Keeping my attention on the one who was keeping her eyes on me, I rummaged around in my handbag. Of course, I wasn’t expecting to find one of the aforementioned weapons, but I was desperate for anything. All I came up with was a mobile phone, lipstick and a tampon. What the hell could I do with those? Call my dad and say the final goodbye—take two. Put on a bit of lippy so I looked good in my coffin. Maybe I could stab a vampire in the peepers with a feminine hygiene product. Oh crap, I am so fucked!

  Greg held out his hand. I put mine in his. He squeezed it tight. Let go.

  Time stopped as we waited for one of the vampires to make a move.

  The male stood as he had since I’d first glimpsed him, his weird unblinking focus on Greg. The female was still smiling like the cat that had got the cream. I didn’t know what my eyes or mouth looked like, but my heart was attempting to thump right out of my chest. My heartbeat was thundering in my ears; it seemed deafening in the silence.

  Without warning or even telegraphing her intent, the female sprang at me.

  I screamed and leapt backwards, the bags in my hands flying, the useless contents of my handbag clattering onto the street.

  I’d jumped quite a way backwards. Farther than a normal person could have. I realised that I had some extra abilities thanks to having consumed Greg’s blood earlier. I was quite sure I wouldn’t have enough strength to fight off a full-blooded vampire. However, I decided right then that I would put as much hurt as I could on the scraggy old bitch before I went down.

  As soon as the female had leapt towards me, Greg had spun around to grab her.

  No sooner had Greg taken his focus off the male than he attacked Greg.

  I saw the bastard take a violent swipe at Greg. He ripped the skin on his back with sharply pointed nails resembling claws. Greg gritted his teeth, but before turning to face his attacker, he whispered my name. I hoped with all my might that it wasn’t his final, final goodbye.

  We stare
d into each other’s eyes for a split second before everything went to hell in a handbasket.

  The female pounced again. I jumped back just in time. She tilted her head to one side. I’d puzzled her.

  Yeah, you toothy douchecanoe, I had a pre-dinner aperitif. And it wasn’t a Bloody Mary. It was a Bloody Vampire Greg. So, you can kiss my ass.

  Toothy Douche didn’t lose her ear-to-ear grin; it was plastered on her face. It was as though she were wearing a freaky mask. Her expression convinced me that she wasn’t going to kill me quickly and “humanely”—if that’s a word you could use to describe how a vampire might treat you.

  I heard something that sounded like cracking bones and then screaming and hissing coming from where Greg was fighting with the male. I couldn’t look. My eyes were glued to the female. But the possibility that those sounds might be coming from Greg made me feel sick. I sent a silent prayer into the universe that the bones that were breaking didn’t belong to Greg.

  My smiling attacker pounced again, and again I leapt back. This time when I landed, I didn’t land on the cobblestones, all sure-footed and shit. I slid on something under my feet and suddenly I was falling backwards.

  As I fell, the systema training Greg had been doing with me kicked in. I sought to lessen the impact, softening my body, rolling more than smashing to the ground like a felled tree. If I was at home, practicing with Greg, I would have done a backwards summersault and stood up facing forward. Instead, I ended up flat on my back.

  I learned two things: one—a person could be infused with as much vamp juice as they liked, but cobblestones still hurt like a bitch when you fell on the buggers; and two—it was the bag containing my new shoes that I’d landed on. My fuck-me shoes had lived up to their name and well and truly fucked me.

  I sprang to my feet like all the dudes in the martial-arts movies. It wasn’t one of my naturally occurring abilities, but I was convinced I was capable with some of Greg’s power flowing through my veins. And I would have been successful if Ms McfuckinSmiley didn’t catch me mid-air and smash me back onto the ground.