Page 31 of Poison Sun

The humans might not know he’s a vampire, but they can instinctively sense when they’re facing an angry predator.

“Want to get out of here?” the guy in the NYU shirt says to me.

“No,” I say simply.

“Suit yourself.”

He’s gone in a blink. Everyone else is dispersing as well.

Everyone except me.

The vampire saunters over to where I stand, the air between us crackling as he scrutinizes every inch of me.

Goosebumps prickle my arms. But I stand strong, unwilling to let him see any signs of weakness.

I’ve got this.

He stops about two feet in front of me, and it’s like we’re at a standoff, neither of us saying a word.

I glance back down at his wrists. “Nice tattoos,” I finally say.

“A compliment from the star touched.” He grins and brushes some of his floppy hair off his forehead. “I’m honored.”

“You know who I am.”

“Lucas has been keeping tabs on this area,” he explains. “There’s always one of us here, waiting for you. You see, we know what you look like, Star Touched. Your picture’s been passed around to every member of the clan.”

I shiver at the thought of the downtown vampires studying my photo, memorizing every detail about me.

“Is Lucas here?” I get to the point, not wanting to chat with him for any longer than necessary.

The lustberry won’t stay in my system forever. The sooner I see Lucas, the better.

“I’ll let him know you’re asking for him.” He drops his skateboard back to the ground, steps back onto it, pulls out his phone, and starts texting. After a few seconds of silence, he puts his phone away and refocuses on me. “He’ll be here in ten minutes.”

I cross my arms over my chest, hoping to look unfazed. “And what are you supposed to do in the meantime? Babysit me?”

He chuckles, a low, throaty sound. “Something like that,” he says. “Though I prefer the term ‘ensure your safety.’ I’m Dylan, by the way.”

I don’t bother introducing myself. He clearly already knows who I am.

Instead, I glance around the park in an attempt to seem indifferent, despite the unease coiling in my stomach.

Dylan, meanwhile, seems content to watch me with an unreadable expression, leaning casually against his skateboard.

“So, Amber,” he finally breaks the silence. “How’d you enjoy the show?”

He can’t be serious.

But, as he waits for my response, I get the feeling he is.

“It was thrilling,” I say. “I’ll be sure to give it five stars on Yelp.”

He smiles approvingly, which somehow pisses me off even more. “You do that,” he says, and thankfully, he stops making any more attempts at conversation.

Finally, Lucas makes his way through the arch and strides toward us. His dirty blond hair is swept back, his eyes gleaming with mischief and defiance when they meet mine.

“Amber,” he greets when he reaches us. “Running to me now that you’ve seen evidence of Damien’s incompetence?”

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