“I do not want to go to school...especially with mangy mutts!” Georgiana whined for the hundredth time that morning. “This is bloody ridiculous. I am over three-hundred-bloody-years-old! I do not need to go to bloody high school!”
That was it.
“Sod off!” I yelled. “If it was not for you falling off of the wagon, as these disgusting Yanks would say, we would not have had to leave Paris. Do you think that any of us wants to be stuck here in the stupid Pacific Northwest? Hello, it rains non-stop, you pillock bitch! No one wants to live here. And now, because of your clanger, we have to hide out in Washington with werewolves! Suck it up, because we are going to be late for school.” I glared at the fuming redhead as I exited the parlor.
“Tanis,” Toran called out, following me, “you need to cut your sister some slack.”
“I shall do no such thing,” I snarled through clenched teeth. “That spoiled little princess of headache and disaster needs to grow up and get over herself. If you had let me stake her a month ago, as I wanted to, I would be surfing Saint Jean de Luz right now. Not starting high school,” I gagged on the term, “in some out-of-the-way shitehole with a population of less than two-thousand with a werewolf problem.” I fought to keep from cringing when he cocked an eyebrow because of my tone regarding werewolves.
Thankfully, Toran let it go and shook his head in disappointment. “Georgiana is your blood and we are a coven, thus we stand by each other regardless of our mistakes. Since her life was in danger in Paris, we all had to make sacrifices in order to protect her, thus protecting the coven. There are many werewolves at the school so I expect you to mind your tongue and do not get into any fights with them or anyone else,” he said, raising a warning eyebrow and I suddenly felt like a young lad. “Keep your temper in check and remember we are guests of the pack. Friday we will break bread with them at a birthday celebration even.”
I rolled my eyes. “I do not remember agreeing to that.”
“You do not have a choice, we are all going,” he said in a clipped tone and I nodded once. “You are going to be late. Have fun at school and try not bite anyone,” he teased.
“Give those words of wisdom to that git sister of mine,” I mumbled under my breath, slamming the front door behind me.
While I impatiently waited in the car, I laid on the horn, warning the git bitch that I’d leave her arse behind and make her walk in the impending rain. Steffen and Abigail were in the backseat laughing hysterically; they always found amusement in my discomfort when it pertained to my siblings.
“Cousin, you need to cut her some slack,” Romeo said, closing the passenger side door behind him. “Remember, there are only three things that women are good for: fighting, biting, and screwing.”
Steffen laughed so Abigail smacked him in the chest, and I rolled my eyes.
Romeo’s name didn’t fit the classic perception one might had due to Shakespeare when they heard the name Romeo. Romeo was a self-righteous arsehole who goes through women like a bog roll. He used his charm to seduce the ever-willing and left a wake of crying, heartbroken women wherever he went.
When Georgiana exited the house, I snarled. She wasn’t a tall woman and yet her skirt had left absolutely nothing to the imagination. And neither did her top; button-down, skintight, white, short sleeve shirt with a black bra underneath, nearly all of the buttons undone so her small breasts were threatening to break free.
“What in bloody hell are you wearing?” I demanded when she slid into the backseat.
“Chanel,” Georgiana snorted, rolled her eyes and flipped me off.
“Do you not think that is a little over the top for high school?” I argued, driving down the long, winding driveway. “A reservation high school at that?”
“You are one to talk,” she countered. “You are wearing Cavalli. Those jeans cost you how much; three or four hundred American? Your bloody shirt and jacket alone are worth more than these back wood mutts get in a year with their precious capita payments.”
Deep breaths. Deep breaths.
It was a good thing that I didn’t have a stake handy because Georgiana would look like a bloody coat rack before we even made it to the end of the driveway. It was getting harder and harder to remember, let alone believe, that Georgiana and I were related. We were nothing alike. I don’t even think we looked alike anymore. Georgiana had curly dark red hair, soft rounded features, gapped teeth, pale skin with a dusting of freckles, and was short. My hair was straight and multicolored dark blond with masterfully done honey highlights, all of my features were angular, and I have a freckle-free light tan complexion and am tall. Besides our physical differences, she was a bitch and I wasn’t...usually.
“Is it just me,” Steffen started and snickered when we pulled into the school’s car park, “or does it look like we pulled into a white trash police auction?”
Needless to say, my Range Rover Sport was going to stand out.
“They don’t look too happy to see us,” Abigail teasingly said and we nodded our agreement.
It was easy to pinpoint the werewolves because they were glaring at us while everyone else was gawking and whispering.
“This isn’t awkward at all,” Romeo said with a chuckle. “Tell me again why we’re doing this?”
It was a rhetorical question. However, it was one that I felt the need to answer.
“Because the minger bitch in the backseat cannot keep her bloody fangs to herself,” I reminded him.
“Sod off,” Georgiana sneered and kicked the back of my seat.
“No thank you,” I said and slammed on the breaks, sending her smashing into the back of my seat.
The profanities flowed from her lips as I parked the car.
This is just the beginning, I mentally groaned.
We continued shouting and yelling at each other in every language we knew through the halls, ignoring the stares of the humans and the rude comments from the werewolves, all the way to first hour. Thankfully I didn’t share that particular class with her or any of them. I needed my space and time to clear my head, and I couldn’t do that with Steffen and Abigail’s perpetual optimism, Romeo’s lustful tongue and roaming eyes, or Georgiana’s pernicious words and attitude.
“What class is this?” I mumbled and looked at my schedule and groaned: creative writing. “Bugger. Who in the hell signed me up for bloody creative writing? This is going to be the longest day of my very long life,” I complained under my breath.
I checked in with the teacher, it was a struggle to not turn around and hide in my car for the whole day and listen to music.
“Hello, Mr. Ashton,” the teacher greeted. “This is more of an independent study class, as you’ll find out. Just fill a journal with a creative composition by the end of semester. It can be a novel, a bunch of short stories, poetry, whatever floats your boat. You can eat and drink in class as long as it isn’t disruptive, oh, and no fighting. You can share the back table with Jay Dee,” he said, signing off on my schedule and motioned towards the back of the room.
I nodded; eating and drinking wouldn’t be a problem. Unlike my lovely temperamental sister, I could control my hunger. I headed down the center aisle to the back corner and threw my bag on top of the table, taking the seat next to the widow. At least I’d have a good seat.
Jay Dee should have gotten his arse to school sooner if he wanted it.
One of the human sitting at the table in front of me turned around.
“Not interested,” I said coldly before she could open her mouth. I didn’t have time or patience for stupid humans and their ridiculous crushes. It was always the same wherever we went. Our good looks lure our prey to us like moths to a flame...those are Steffen’s words when he’s all to pot, and they only apply to me since I’m naturally handsome. Regardless of what television and movies suggested, not all vampires were attractive. Romeo used his looks and voice of persuasion to shag everything in a thousand mile radius. Georgiana used her vampiric gifts in much the same way, but instead of shagging them, she screwed with their minds; she lived for drama. Abigail and Steffen liked to people watch, a living soap opera they called it. They had been married for more than three hundred years. They never argued, fought or had drama. Their relationship was solid and had been since they first met; she was immortal and he wasn’t, and we all know what happened next.
“You’re late,” the teacher said ten minutes after the bell rang.
“I know,” a young woman whispered. “You know how Jarvis is, he drives like a damn grandma!”
The teacher laughed. “Jarvis is in town? I thought he was in Russia till Christmas.”
“He was, but he came home for the party Friday. Jarvis wanted me to let you know that he’ll stop by before school lets out and play catch up with you and Miss Dawson; he has some pictures of architecture from the late Muscovite period he wants to show you.”
“I’ll enjoy that,” he assured her. “You’ll have to share a table with Mr. Ashton. Try to play nice,” he said with a chuckle and waved her away.
Jay Dee is a bird?
I looked up.
Who in the hell names a bird Jay D…holy shite, who would name that Jay Dee?
The tall, leggy blonde sighed and reluctantly headed down the aisle. Her fitted jeans expertly showed her curvy figure and the boggin vintage band shirt she wore made her breasts look absolutely amazing. She ran her long, slender hand through her hair, pushing it back from her face in frustration and I suddenly forgot how to breathe.
Usually I didn’t find blondes attractive, not at all, but the mortal was stunning; long white blonde hair with a slight curl to it hanging mid-way down her back, thick black lashes surrounding large onyx eyes, full pale pink lips, light tan skin and delicate features.
Huh. This village might not be so bad after all.
Jay Dee’s mouth twisted into a sexy pout as she eyed me; obviously I sat in her seat. However, without complaint, she slid into the chair next to mine and rummaged through her bag, producing a spiral journal and a pile of pencils. Nervously she drummed her pencil on the table, her large eyes moving around the room, studying the rude looks that nearly every person was giving her.
Strange. Someone so bonny usually gets adoring eyes and envious glares, not hate-filled ones as this bird is getting. Is it because she’s white? The population of the school is ninety-eight percent Native American, I speculated.
Before I could stop myself, I leaned into her. “Do they always look as if someone shite in their cornflakes or is this a special occasion?” I whispered.
Jay Dee sighed and turned to look at me, and it startled me for some reason. “Daily occurrence, but it’s only fueled by me sitting next to you. I’m rather confident that each and every one of them bitches would like to bump uglies with you.”
I laughed. “I beg your pardon?”
“Bang, shag, stuffed, end away….is that enough hometown slang for you?” she smirked. “I watch a lot of PBS,” she admitted with a mischievous smirk.
I will admit; that was sexy. An American spewing British slang with her strange accent; speaking of, I had never heard her particular accent before which was saying a lot considering I had been all around the world. There was something familiar about it but I couldn’t place it at that moment.
“I assure you that I have no interest in any of them,” I said with a smile, minding to keep my fangs hidden.
“Good luck with that,” she scoffed. “Eventually small town life kicks everyone’s ass and they hit the sheets in order to find something, or someone, to do.”
“Good to know. Is that what you do?” I cringed instantly upon hearing the words out loud. “I mean...shite, what is it that you do to pass the time?”
Her large eyes moved over my face many times, and her luscious lips twisted into a contemplative pout, and I couldn’t help but envision what it’d feel like to press my lips against hers for a snog.
Evidently Jay Dee found something in my eyes, face, or expression that put her at ease and she sighed and shook her head in aspiration. “I work at my uncle’s shop after school. It helps to pass the time,” she said softly under her breath.
“Like a café...a coffee shop?” I pressed since she was obviously uninterested in the topic.
She laughed, thankfully. “God no,” she snorted softly and it made me smile. “Have you driven through town yet, or did you blink and miss it?”
That was an understatement. But no, I hadn’t checked out the village. I’d been pouting the entire time at the house. I had to leave nearly everything at our estate in Paris all because of my daft sister, so it left me rather gutted.
“No. Are you offering a guided tour?” I asked with a smirk.
Jay Dee rolled her eyes, obviously not impressed or interested. “No. There isn’t much to see, but if you happen to head down Haxton, on the corner of Ruth, you’ll see his shop. Feel free to stop by...I work Monday through Saturday.” She started writing in her journal; obviously the conversation was over in her opinion. I tried to see what she was writing, but it was just some thin lines in a geometrical pattern that was absent of words. Her apparent indifference towards me irritated me for some reason, but I wasn’t entirely sure why.
“I’m Jay Dee by the way,” she eventually said and it made me smile; she wasn’t completely ignoring me after all.
“Tanis,” I said and started to offer her my hand but stopped midway through the motion. A human wouldn’t be hyperaware of the fact that my skin was slightly cooler than theirs, but it always caused questions about health, diet, and poor circulation to come up, a pathetic attempt at small talk which drove me nutter. Vampires weren’t frigid like ice but weren’t toasty like dinner…I mean humans. My body temperature was a nice, subtle warmth compared to my siblings; perhaps I should have offered her my hand after all.
The bell rang and I grabbed my bag and stood up.
“May I walk you to your next class, Miss Jay Dee?” I asked.
Bloody hell, why did I ask her that? She has to think that I am a pillock pillow-biter.
Jay Dee smirked. “Sure,” she said and stood up, then stepped around me and plopped down in my chair. “Thank you, Mr. Ashton.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I have Contemporary English Lit this period. I’ll see you around,” she playfully sang the latter and smiled wide.
I could have sworn that I saw a pair of fangs in her dazzling white smile. I discretely sniffed but she didn’t smell like a vampire. I caught the scents of the werewolves in the front row who were softly growling under their breaths at me, the nauseating designer-imposture perfume from the girl in the third row, and the faint traces of lavender rolling from this young woman’s skin, but nothing more than that. Then again, some humans did have more defined canines; it got many killed back in the vampire trials in the eleventh through nineteenth centuries.
Reluctantly I nodded, not wanting to leave her for some reason, and headed to the door where I ran into Romeo out in the hall.
“How was class?” he absently asked, watching the arse of one of the teachers as she walked past us. The middle-aged woman looked over her shoulder at him and winked.
I discretely closed the classroom door behind me so Romeo didn’t look inside and see Jay Dee. “I do not remember,” I said. There was no way in hell that I was going to tell him about the six-foot blonde supermodel that I just left in the back of the class; he’d rush in there and hump her leg before she knew what hit her. “I glared at the looming clouds through the window. What did you have?” I asked.
He grinned, looking slightly evil and completely up to no good. “Home Economics. Twenty-eight girls plus a teacher so I walked out with twenty-nine phone numbers.”
“That is simply brilliant,” I mumbled.
Girls were not worth the drama that came with immaturity. My rule was nothing less than two centuries old, anything less than that was just a passing through village quick shag. Regardless of the slightly tolerable blonde in first hour, it was going to be a very long decade in the shitehole known as Lummi, Washington.