The Renfield Syndrome

Closing my eyes, I pictured Disco’s face.

 

His pale skin and distinct features were gorgeous, as all vampires were prone to be, but his eyes were his best attribute—deep multicolored pools of blue, green, aqua, yellow and gold. I would have given anything to feel his solid arms around me in that moment, to feel his cool breath against my face. The night before had only shown me how much I’d started to depend on him and forced me to accept that I’d grown to need him.

 

I never would have agreed to Zagan’s bargain if it weren’t for him.

 

Opening my eyes and pushing aside the duvet, I decided it was time to make the most of a new day. The bedroom was stark bone white, the linens, dresser and nightstand matching perfectly. It was meant to look sophisticated, but it was merely plain and simple. I bet the decorator charged a bundle for his services too.

 

What a rip off.

 

The adjoining bathroom matched the bedroom, except everything was elaborate. The sinks were deep and square, the faucets bright polished stainless steel that arched like flower stems. I rinsed the putrid dragon’s breath from my mouth—the result of the multiple shots of Jack I’d taken the night before. I cupped water in my hands and cleaned my face as I swished the liquid between my teeth. I used the towel on the sink to pat my forehead, eyes and cheeks dry when I was done, feeling slightly cleaner if not totally spring fresh.

 

I took a long look at myself in the mirror.

 

The woman looking back at me hadn’t changed. She still had long brown hair, brown eyes, a heart-shaped face, thin eyebrows that arched like twin brush strokes and dark circles under her eyes. But the image didn’t full represent what resided inside the twenty-five-year-old who felt far older. That was more complex.

 

No mirror in the world could accurately portray that woman.

 

When I walked out of the bedroom, the living room was empty. I headed toward the glass door leading to a balcony. After I unlocked the handle and slid the glass partition aside, I silently stepped into the chilly morning air. I walked to the railing across the way. Nothing but woodland greeted me, since the building was built near the accompanying park. There were no signs of life, no people going through daily morning rituals.

 

It was as country as a city could possibly get.

 

The sun spread across the sky, distorting the horizon in variations of blue, red, purple, orange and yellow. I inhaled and frowned. How strange. I paused before I took another, longer deep breath. There were no exhaust fumes or smells of food. There was just brisk air that burned my lungs, and the lingering moisture that accompanied morning dew.

 

Something touched my arm, and I tensed. Whipping around, I deflected the object with the base of my palm. My right leg flew back automatically as I attempted to stand in a defensive position and, wouldn’t you know it, my bastard knee faltered. I cursed, using a flailing hand to brace myself, maintaining a precarious balance using the concrete barrier that kept me from toppling over the roof.

 

“I bet you were quite the ass kicker before that knee of yours bummed out,” Carter observed casually. He lifted a coffee mug to his lips and leaned against the concrete barrier, staring into the sun. He had on his camouflage pants, boots and a black wife beater. His dark hair was in disarray, several strands tangled around his shadowed face.

 

“I could hold my own,” I growled, angry at myself and my injury.

 

“How did you hurt it?” He glanced over, his lips curving around the edge of the mug. “Tell the truth this time.”

 

“A vampire broke my knee cap,” I answered before I could think, brute force honesty flowing easily from my lips. I cursed the lack of filters between my brain and my mouth the minute I heard myself say it aloud.

 

His curious smile vanished. He lowered his mug and rested it on the barrier. With a simple shift of his shoulders, he turned his upper torso to face me. “No shit?”

 

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