Page 56 of Ophelia's Vampire

Slipping out of the bedroom, I look left, then right, then pause and strain to listen for any sounds coming from the ground floor. There’s nothing. No sign of anyone else in the house. As I creep down the stairs to the entryway, I don’t catch any hint of blond hair or a low, teasing voice or anything else that would suggest Cas is still around.

Which… good. It’s good he’s not here.

He obviously also knows just how much of a mistake last night was and made his own early exit.

And thank god for that, because waking up naked and all over him would have been pretty much unbearable, given how awkward and vulnerable I feel as I slip out the front door.

Even if, in some idiotic corner of my brain, I can’t help but feel just a bit insulted he left before I woke up.

I’m mostly grateful for it, but also… what the hell? He couldn’t have at least faced the awkwardness with me?

Back in the van, I force myself into the here and now. Back to business, and to tackling the problems that feel much easier to deal with than memories of everything that happened last night.

I find my cell where I left it on the counter in the small kitchenette. Even though I didn’t have power to charge it last night, it’s still got enough juice for me to do a quick search for repair shops. After a couple of calls, I’ve got an appointment for three hours from now. I still miss my go-to mechanic, and by the tone of the man who makes the appointment, I’ve got a feeling I’m going to get overcharged and mansplained to the entire time.But beggars can’t be choosers, and I’ll take that over another night in Cas’s house.

I strip off my clothes from last night and change into some workout leggings and a long-sleeved athletic tee. Hair slicked back into a high pony that I thread through a ball cap, I find my shoes in the little nook by the door. Headphones on, phone tucked into an armband I slip on over the tee, I step out of the van and shut the door behind me.

Better. This is better.

Something to do, somewhere to go, a way to burn off all the nervous energy still shaking through me.

With a few stretches and a playlist queued up, I pace to the gate and, after shutting it behind me, I’m off.

I’ve got no route, no mileage goal, nothing but a punk rock track blasting in my ears and a stretch of unfamiliar sidewalk before me.

The neighborhood rushes by in a blur of more impressive houses and autumn trees arching over the roadway. Peaceful, quiet, serene, the kind of place that oozes money and class and makes me feel like one of Cas’s neighbors is about to yell at me from behind their own fancy-ass gate and ask me what the hell I’m doing here.

It makes a small, satisfied smile curl at the edges of my lips thinking of the firmly middle-class neighborhood where I grew up in central New York—the humble, hardworking, pragmatic roots of my mom and my grandparents.

Oh, how far I’ve come.

Well, at least in a sense.

In another sense, I’m a somewhat aimless thirty-year-old living in my van who got bitten and fingered to orgasm by an incredibly hot vampire last night.

Which might also be coming pretty far by whatever definition you want to use.

Forcing myself to abandon those thoughts and concentrate on my run, a mile disappears under my feet, then two, before I decide to call it a loop. It’s a short run compared to when I’m actually training for a race, but also the longest I’ve done since I’ve been here in Boston. I’ve fallen off any kind of regular training schedule, which isn’t too out of the ordinary while I’m on assignment, but the way even this short jog seems to be kicking my ass isn’t exactly encouraging.

How the hell have I fallen so far out of shape in… seven weeks?

Funny how time’s flown while I’ve been here, spinning my wheels on this case and getting absolutely nowhere.

But, like with any other disappointment or worry I might come up against, my solution is right in front of me. Open pavement and a few more miles to go. Slow miles or not, I let myself slip into that place where the rest of it doesn’t matter. The steady rhythm of my feet and the up-tempo track blaring in my headphones, the drag of breath in and out of my lungs and the sweet ache of my muscles.

It’s better than any kind of meditation I’ve ever tried. It focuses my mind in the best way, narrowing the rest of the world to right here, right now—nowhere else I need to be and nothing else I need to be doing.

By the time I make it back to Cas’s place, I’ve worked up a decent sweat, but my good mood only lasts as long as it takes me to remember I’ll have to go back inside and take a shower. Unless I want to show up at the mechanic’s shop smelling like the inside of a running shoe, which I don’t, or climb in the van and drive all the way across the city to the gym I need to cancel my membership at, Cas’s bathroom is my best bet.

Towel and clothes in hand, I creep in through the front door and strain my ears, trying to pick up on any sound from further inside the house. Hearing nothing, I ease the door shut… andpromptly run into the metal stand next to the door holding a couple of umbrellas.

It clatters to the floor in a spectacularly noisy crash that would absolutely let anyone who might be in the house know I’m here. But standing in the echoing silence, no one appears.

Satisfied I’m here alone and not about to run into any vampires who might want to stop and talk about just what the hell happened last night, I hastily pick the stand up and hightail it to the bathroom.

After the world’s fastest shower, I pull on some jeans and a t-shirt and slink my way back out to the van. As soon as I’m done tossing my dirty clothes in the hamper, and just as I’m about to climb into the driver’s seat, my phone rings with an incoming video call.

My heart stutters a beat as I scramble to pick it up, and my stomach inexplicably sinks when I realize it’s not, in fact, Cas calling to check in on me.

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