Page 39 of Ouch! My Vampire Doms Keep Biting Me
My feet ache as I trudge into my hotel room. The room feels impersonal, yet somewhat safe for now. Still, I need to get out of this place, find myself a cheap apartment. It’s way too long to walk back and forth between here and Bartleby’s, for one thing, and I don’t want to spend a cent on bus fare.
Plus, the entire way between the hotel and the pub? I still have that prickly feeling on the back of my neck, like someone is watching me.
I flip the deadbolt on my door, grab the TV remote, and collapse on the bed. Background noise isn’t a luxury—it’s a necessity. I’ve never felt so lonely, so alone. Why does my heart feel like it’s breaking whenever I have a minute to my own thoughts?
Lucky for me, I’m too exhausted to stay awake long, and I drift off to sleep.
“…Autumn Livingston, the twenty-five-year-old stepdaughter of business mogul Dale Smith, has gone missing from her home in Altera, California. ‘I thought she was going on a trip with friends.’”
I sit up, heart pounding, arms flailing to protect myself. That was Dale’s voice. Fuck. Shit.
He isn’t here. His voice is coming from the TV. I’m still struggling for breath as I watch his smarmy face, twisted with false despair, as he continues to weave his narrative of lies.
“It turned out, there was never any trip,” he says, in some kind of press conference. “She’s been having some mental difficulties, paranoid delusions. I should have monitored hermedications better. I’m so sorry, Autumn. If anyone finds her, or has information, please. She’s my daughter, my only family. Bring my princess home to me, I beg of you.”
The reporter in the studio comes on again. “The police are cautioning anyone who sees Autumn not to approach her directly. She may become violent.”
I can only stare at the screen, stunned. Violent? Paranoid delusions?
“Youasshole,” I whisper.
Then my own face flashes up on the screen. It’s a photo taken during one of Dale’s business dinners, hosted at our house. I’m wearing a soft pink gown, looking wholesome and polished. I remember that night. Dale gave me Mom’s pearl necklace to wear. I remember feeling so sad, just absolutely sick with missing my mother.
The news piece flashes back to Dale, and he’s fuckingcrying. Big, fat tears roll down his cheeks. What a fucking snake.
“Dale and authorities believe Autumn is still in California, perhaps close to Los Angeles. If you have seen this young woman, please call the number below immediately. An award is being offered for information on her whereabouts.”
I have to get out of here. I can’t be found, I can’t be seen. I’m so stupid. I should’ve cut my hair, dyed it. I should’ve worn that kind woman’s reading glasses.
I leap off the bed and begin pacing. My items are scattered throughout the room. What’s the better move here? Stay put with my fake ID and a job with Nicholas, who knows who I am? It was so weird how he suddenly backpedaled on his blackmail attempt, but he seemed sincere.
Or do I run, risking more and more people seeing me as I go?
Xander
Her scent is going to haunt me for the rest of my days.
I’ve been following her. Will has been, too—and he’s so oblivious he hasn’t even noticed my presence. As long as I’m quiet, he doesn’t think to look around. Heartsick dumbass.
Correction: heartsick dumbasses. Because webothare.
But tonight, Will is nowhere around. Last night I watched as he intimidated Autumn’s manager. I couldn’t hear what was said by any of them at any point, but the boy looked like he was about to piss his trousers.
Now, Autumn is in her hotel room and Will is nowhere to be seen. For a long hour, I’ve leaned against the wall outside of her balcony window. There is no need to watch her, but I did peek in once to ensure she was safe.
It’s going to rain soon, perhaps in four or five hours. That won’t bother me. It never has, never will. I don’t mind the cold.
A rustling movement inside snags my attention. I peer around the edge of the window to see her sitting up. She’s now staring at the television screen with a look of abject terror on her pretty face.
I cannot see the television, but I can hear it. And after a long moment of watching, Autumn jumps up, agitated.
She’s panicking. It’s no surprise, given the news segment I just witnessed. I know who she is now, although I’m not sure why she’s running. The dickhead on the television screen, her stepfather, had an idea. But paranoid delusions? That’s not something I saw in Autumn in the slightest. If she does have amental illness, she’s masking it well, or if she was having a break, it is long over.
I don’t trust the dickhead stepfather. His demeanor is warm, sincere, but there is something false in it.
Our little mouse is obviously in more danger than Will or I initially thought.
If only I could comfort her, if only I could keep her safe like she deserves. Instead, I am stuck on the threshold, wishing to do more for her, yet powerless because if Will and I were to get involved, Autumn would be in more danger, just of a different sort.
