Page 22 of Kentucky Nights
No. I will not be fooled by his lush, charming accent, muscles, or cowboy hat. It’s all a rouse, somehow; his kindness, his patience, and even his honesty are in question.
All the stories I heard growing up tell me vampires are soulless, and so far, my own experience proves that.
Yet past my fear, past the doubt, and in the deepest part of my heart, something is telling me Kentucky’s soul exists, and it doesn’t compare to anyone else’s.
I’m not sure how to trust him, but I don’t have to.
I’m leaving when I have the energy, and Kentucky will be in my rearview.
I pride myself on being a good man, a decent man, the kind that would do anything for anyone if it meant they got a better life. Free will is the most important for anyone, human or paranormal, and Dru thinks she has it.
She’s probably in her room planning a way to escape, wanting to go home where she belongs.
I’m afraid I can’t allow that to happen.
I can’t let her go. She’s meant to be here with me. If she leaves, I’ll have to hunt her down and bring her back. If I kidnap her, that will set me back even further when it comes to gaining her trust.
Everything I felt about dying has changed because of her. Dru can be mad at me for being a vampire; she has the right to be afraid of me after what happened, but I’m also angry.
Her arrival in my life has changed all my plans. Death can no longer be an option because I refuse to let her die. I’m not that cruel. My life has always been controlled by outside forces. My free will has always been abused, bent, and molded by someone else.
I thought I had finally taken control back, living my life by sunsets and sunrises. I was ready to die under the night sky, the stars beckoning me into their space to welcome me home.
Yet again, the universe has other plans.
I’m starting to realize that home isn’t a place.
It’s a person.
And she’s inside the house right now, probably planning my demise.
I’m going to give her the space she deserves. I’ll let her come to me when she’s ready. Even with my own turmoil about our situation—I’m hopeful—I could scent her interest.
The fear was strong and bitter on my tongue as it filled the space of the bedroom. Behind that and the anger—and there was a lot of anger—I smelled desire.
Whether she likes it or not, she’s attracted to me.
“You are going to get me fired.”
I hang my head, my hand gripping the twine bundling the hay bales. “You’re going to make me commit murder if you keep popping up unannounced.”
“How else am I supposed to talk to you, Kentucky? Do you even have a phone?”
“Of course I do.” I’m learning how to use it. It’s dead in a drawer somewhere. All the technological advances over the years can be hard to keep up with.
I’m working on it.
“We will circle back to that and talk about why you didn’t give me your number. Have you thought about what I said?” Lorcanjumps on the bales of hay and sneezes. “This barn is dusty. Do you clean it?”
How does someone kill someone who is already dead? Maybe the internet can tell me when I’m done working for the day.
“I clean it, but it is hay, Lorcan. You might be allergic.”
“I’m a paranormal entity. We don’t have allergies, Cowboy Dracula.” He sneezes again, and this time, his head pops off, rolling across the barn in quick bumps.
His mouth is smashed into the stall. “Hey, can you bring me back to my body?” Lorcan mumbles. “The dirt tastes so bad.”
His body falls from where he sits, his arms stretched out, looking for his head.
