Page 2 of Loving A Vampire Is Total Chaos

Their things.

All of it.

But not me.

“Shit!” Tears stream down Peter’s face like raindrops on the windows outside as he sobs and cradles his arm. “What the hell? Please, please, please don’t kill me. I’ve got a wife.”

“Did you really think your measly offering would interest me?” I cock my head to the side, clucking my tongue. “I’ve been around for longer than you’d believe and have access to everything you offered and more.”

I sigh, knowing our time is up.

“I thought you were going to make this more fun for me, Peter,” I tsk, and wag my finger at him. “And using your wife as a means for sympathy? Do you think of her when you’re allowing drugs onto the streets? Or when your kidnapping young girls and selling them? Or do you only think of her when it might save your sorry ass?” I look down at my perfectly manicured fingernails, inspecting them. “I bet you don’t even love her, which is such a shame. Love really is the only thing that makes life worth living.”

I’d loved once, but then she turned out to be off her rocker more than I am, so I skedaddled right on out of that relationship. I haven’t been in a serious one since, but I’ve remained what you might call a romantic at … well, I don’t have a heart so I’m not sure where exactly. But it’s there. Somewhere.

He pleads vehemently for his life, and I roll my eyes. It’s always the “tough” ones that wimp out and sing like a bird. It ruins all the fun.

My ears perk up at the wail of sirens in the distance.

“Goodbye, Peter.” His eyes go wide as he registers what I’ve said and a second later his head is rolling across the concrete floor. It thunks into another head with a wet smack and I chuckle when they roll together like bowling pins.

“Strike!”

The sirens grow closer, but I know with my speed I have time to put a finishing touch on my artwork. Zipping around I carefully collect what I need and proceed to do what I do best.

After placing the heads exactly where I want them, I dip my fingers in a particularly viscous puddle of blood drawingmy signature symbol. Standing up I wipe my hands off on a handkerchief I stole from one of the lackeys before throwing it behind my shoulder. Vampires don’t have fingerprints, so they won’t be able to track me.

That’s another thing that makes this all the more fun—they’re chasing a phantom, a ghost they’ll never be able to catch.

I scurry up the scaffolding and head toward the window ready to make my escape.

Time to let the cops run around in circles like they always do. Idiots. They’ve been trying to catch me for years when really, they should be sending me flowers and a thank you note.

Bright red, white, and blue lights fill the warehouse. The sirens are so loud I wince.

I wonder what they’d think if they knew the serial killer masquerading in Chicago isn’t even human. Their puny little minds wouldn’t be able to handle that fact, I’m certain.

I smirk to myself and just as I’m about to take off into the night with the cover of lightning and thunder, I pause. I don’t know what makes me do it, but I turn toward a police car that has squealed to a stop outside of the front door of the warehouse.

A flash of brown hair catches my eye, swinging around a woman’s shoulders in a curtain of glossy darkness that resembles a raven’s wing and my heart stops. I watch enraptured as she exits the car with toned legs encased in dark skintight jeans and black boots. I’m no stranger to attractive women, but it’s like there’s a magnetic pull leading me toward this one. I want to gather her hair back as it starts to stick to her face, slick from the pouring rain. Hardened eyes scan the scene. I can’t pinpoint exactly what color her irises are. Vampirism isn’t a cure for everything, and my shit eyesight carried over when I was changed. It’s not entirely a bad thing since I can pull off a pair of glasses like nobody’s business.

One thing I can see, there’s something captivating about the way she carries herself. She’s strong and yet I can sense a vulnerability within her. I wish I could pick up her scent but the storm and mix of blood inside of the warehouse make it difficult.

My reaction catches me off guard, I’ve never felt such a visceral response to a human. It’s almost like ...no, not possible.

Settling myself into a dark corner of the scaffolding I lean back against the wall to observe and stretch my legs out instead of leaving like I planned. Tonight wasn’t a total loss after all, not when I just found my latest obsession.

CHAPTER 2

CELINE

Most twenty-six-year-olds would be spending their weekend out with friends at the bar. Me? I’m currently standing in front of what looks to be a crude attempt at a smiley face made out of decapitated heads and body parts.

What the fuck?

I tilt my head in absolute bewilderment, trying to process what I’m seeing.

“Detective Brennan.”

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