Page 19 of Loving A Vampire Is Total Chaos

My wipers furiously swipe rain from the windshield as I bob and weave through traffic. The irregular weather pattern has me tilting my head in question. It’s a known fact in the supernatural community that heavy and consistent rainfall is indicative of a large gathering of creatures in one area. We tend to keep to our own species and areas across the world. Bustling, populated cities are vampire territory, wooded seclusion is a werewolf haven, the sirens stick to the beaches, dragons in mountain ranges, and so on. The heavy rainfall could either mean multiple species crossing paths in a singular location or an influx of one.I’ll have to keep my eyes and ears open for things going awry. Celine is my top priority, and I can’t have trivial species drama interfering or putting her at risk.

One day in the near future I’ll have to tell Celine what I am.

There’s no way in hell I’m existing without her now that I have her. She might be human now, but I can change her one day. When she’s ready.

And if she’s never ready?

I shove that nagging thought away—the fear that’s taken up residence in the space where my heart used to be. She’ll turn. She has to. There’s no way I’ll survive my pathetic existence by finding my mate only to lose her to something as silly as aging.

But I know I have to be careful. Not only is she human, but a detective, and that means her skepticism is through the roof. I can tell after last night her walls are built high. I’d take a sledgehammer to them if I could, but I’ll approach her with the care I know she needs.

I stop at a red light and run a hand through my unruly waves.

Rolling up to the parking garage of the apartment building I park in my spot. I know it’s my spot because I’ve labeled it with a sign that says, “Zav’s fucking spot so don’t park here. Violators will be eaten.” I included a smiley face with glasses and subtle fangs only I’d notice for a finishing touch.

I take the elevator up, inhaling Celine’s scent that permeates the floor the second the elevator is open. I let it guide me to her door. Without looking around, and knowing by my vampire senses there’s nobody else in the hallway, I let myself into Celine’s apartment. Pocketing the universal key I stole from the front desk, I fall to my knees at the overwhelming scent ofher.

It's both too much and not enough.

My mate.

I’ve heard how intense the scent of a mate can be, but I never grasped how it truly brings you to your knees. It’s going to takea monumental effort to not give in to my baser needs and claim her before she’s ready.

Somehow finding the strength to stand I slowly take in all the little details that make her apartment her. Fake candles with LED fires gently swaying to the invisible breeze are scattered throughout the space. Her tan-colored couch against the wall in the living room is covered in throw pillows and fuzzy blankets. It makes me irrationally angry these inanimate objects get to cover Celine’s body and provide the warmth and comfort I’m desperate to give her. A singular framed photo of flowers hangs above the seating area, a modest TV across from the set-up. Books are piled up on the table. Slinking over I run my fingers across the fabrics splayed across the couch and bring them to my nose.

Delectable.

Mine.

My fangs drop of their own accord, and I run my tongue across them. I’m due for a blood bag soon at the rate Celine is affecting me. At my age I only need to feed every few weeks and only drink a certain caliber of bagged blood. I’d never stoop to indulging myself on the filthy liquid that runs through my kills’ veins, that was equitable to sewer water. I shiver in displeasure just thinking about it and drop onto the couch with a dopey smile when a pillow falls right on my face, surrounding me with her unique scent that reminds me of blackberries.

A soft swat on my arm hanging off the couch gives me pause since I know it’s not said pillow. Lowering the pillow, I squint one eye open. There’s a mass of black shadow with two yellow eyes staring at me from beside the couch. A small tail swishes inquisitively behind the floofy black cat, and I turn on my side to better look at it. We stare at each other in a silent battle of dominance before the cat jumps up onto my stomach and starts kneading my chest.

“Who might you be?” I stroke the kitty’s head, and it leans into my touch.

A metal jingle draws my attention, and I finger the small collar hanging around his neck.

“Midnight, huh?” I scratch under his chin which makes him purr like a motorboat. Smiling I place the cat around my neck like a scarf to continue my tour of Celine’s apartment. “I would’ve thought Celine would’ve given you a more unique name than that. Like Bob. Or Hashbrown. Maybe Burnt Marshmallow.” He seems to hum in pleasure at that name. “You like that one, do you?”

Knowing she’s at work, I explore her space to see what she likes. The way she darted out of my apartment and back over told me how much she valued this place and sought it out when she was uncomfortable.

I stroll into her bedroom and slowly catalogue everything I see. A neatly organized closet with color-coded clothing, mostly black, draw my attention first. My footfalls are soundless as I walk over and place myself in the middle of the rack, sliding her clothing in half so I can stand comfortably. Midnight continues to purr, not bothered by my actions. Standing sentinel in the clothes for an indeterminate amount of time I spy a pile of clothes thrown off to the side on a chair. I know they’re clean since the nefarious laundry detergent covers her natural scent.

I’ll go ahead and fold them for her.

Midnight hops off my shoulders when I tilt my back toward the bed and settles himself on top of her pillow. Snatching up the pile of clothes I deposit them on the end of the bed and get to folding. A scrap of lacy black peeks out from under her bed and I grab it.

Celine’s underwear.

Was this what she was wearing under her skimpy dress when we danced at the club? My nostrils flare as I inhale deeply and catch a vanilla undertone to her berry scent.

Did dancing with me turn her on? Her scent becomes more complex when she’s aroused.

My lips curve at the thought that I affect her like she does me. I pocket the scrap of lace and continue to fold her shirts, pants, and socks. Once I'm done, I set the finished folded clothes on the end of her bed. My eyes take in her room as I spin on my heel and look for anything else I can do to help. Dust glints on the mirror in the bathroom light when I flip the switch, so I find the glass cleaner and some paper towels before I get to work wiping it free. This turns into using her cordless vacuum to sweep the place up, organizing her fridge and freezer contents, and making sure her pillows are arranged perfectly. Truth be told her apartment isn’t a mess, but it looks much better now.

Hands on my hips I admire my hard work and notice the black cat eyeballing me from his perch on the couch now.

“What? You weren’t going to do any cleaning?” The bombastic side eye continues, and I scoff at him.

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