Page 18 of Loving A Vampire Is Total Chaos

“Who are you calling an old coot, Zac?” He fiddles with his hearing aids. “We’re the same age!” he yells at me from beneath his large mustache. I always tease him he looks like the prospector fromToy Storyand beg him to dress up as the character for Halloween. I could be Bullseye. Giddy up.

“Take your turn. You know I’m going to whoop your ass just like I do every time.” I push my glasses up my nose and fold my arms against my chest. I don’t bother correcting him on my name anymore. He’s insisted from day one that Zav is a dumb name and resorted to calling me Zac despite my annoyance.

Tom grumbles and leans up close to the board to move his queen, setting it in direct sights of my king.

“Check.” I smirk victoriously.

“You’re a fucking cheater.” Tom knocks the pieces off the board, and I roll my eyes.

And he saysI’mthe dramatic one.

“And you’re a sore loser.” Kicking my feet up onto the table and crossing my ankles I survey the bar, our game now over. Tom’s grandkids run it since he’s too old and it's been converted into a restaurant as well. They seem like nice kids, but I avoid them to limit questions on my unchanged good looks.

Patrons murmur and piddle about the room like scavenging little bugs. A small human child runs by and nearly bumps into my shoulder. I recoil in disgust, wiping the invisible germs off my shirt. Children are one of my least favorite things with their whining, screaming, and messiness but it can usually be blamed on shitty parenting. My one exception for a crotch goblin is if Celine wants children. I’ll give her as many as she desires. I look forward to practicing the baby making.

Wait.

Babies.

Celine.

I need to write that down.

Pulling my trusty notebook and pen out of my pocket I lick my finger and flip it open to a new page. Quickly scribbling,Breed Celine, under a new list titledGoals in my long life with Celine.

Besides, even though vampirescanhave children, it’s rare which means if she wants them, we’re going to be doing a whole lot of practicing. I rub my hands together in excited glee.

“You have that crazy look in your eye, Zac.” Tom shakes a rook at me, and I snatch it out of his hand.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about and how would you know? You can’t even see.” I tease him but we both have a small smile on our faces.

Putting my notebook back in my pocket I set the chess board again, collecting runaway pieces from the floor. It had been a gift from me to Tom a few Christmases ago and was handcrafted by an artisan in France.

“That’s what you’d like to think. My body may be failing me, but my mind is still fresh as a daisy. If you’re not talking, I know you’re scheming.” He goes to stand up, arms shaking and hands gripping the tabletop tightly. I zip over to help him, and he immediately scoffs.

“Off me. My eyes and ears might be useless, but my legs work just fine.” Shaking off my grip he walks away without another word. “Still don’t know how you move so fast at our age,” he gripes. “It’s damn annoying.”

“Bye, Tom,” I shout as I stride out of the bar.

I can’t help but shake my head at the grunt he responds with. One of these days my greeting will be replied to with silence, and I savor the small piece of humanity that remains in me at the sting of pain at how hard it’ll be when he’s gone.

Standing under the awning of the restaurant I watch as rain pounds onto the concrete. My cream-colored sweater darkens from the onslaught of droplets, pooling on the fabric when I stick an arm out. Sucking the water off my lip I head for my car parked around back. Lightly jogging over to the sleek black sports car, I tuck my large frame in and buckle up. Indestructible or not I am nothing if not an outstanding citizen.

I pull out my notebook before I drive away and scribble down;

Make sure Celine always wears a seatbelt. Safety is hot.

I already know the more time that passes the harder it’ll be to rein myself in when it comes to my growing desire for her. The allure of a mate is impossible to resist long-term and I’m tired of denying to myself that she’s not mine. I was scared at first to acknowledge it, to give truth to what I knew was staring me in the face, because I’ve been alone for so long and the small chance I was wrong held me back. It would’ve been devastating to think I’d finally found my mate after all these years only to realize I’m wrong.

But I’m not wrong.

Celine is mine.

I can’t help but want to get to know her, though. Slowly. Properly. She’s human and deserves to be courted. I want to do thingsrightwith her. The way she’d expect.

Except I’m me, and if I’m honest with myself I can never do things the ‘normal’ way.

I suppose it stems from living hundreds of years, but it’s much more fun to do things out of the box. It keeps life interesting.

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