Page 3 of Love Bites
As Luke left the car, he dropped the stake on the passenger seat. I shook my head at him. He could be such a slob, and I didn't want to see that thing. As I drove off, though, I kept glancing at it. Part of me wanted to throw it out of the window at the next traffic light, but for some reason, I couldn't get myself to do it.
Always keep this with you,Dad had said. Even now I could hear his voice in my head.I hope you'll never need it, but if you do...
I scoffed. When was I ever going to need a wooden stake? If Dad had spent half as much time educating himself onrealissues rather than fictional ones...
Anger bubbled up in me and the emotion was so comfortably distracting that I clung to it.Are you mad or are you really just sad?Dad used to ask whenever any of us threw a tantrum.
Fuck him.
He was gone now and so was all his stupid advice that had no real-life application.
Never go near Second Street after dark, always carry a stake. Don't let anyone see your birthmark. If all else fails, bright lights hurt vampires.
Vampires...
I scoffed again.
And what was wrong with Second Street, anyway? Probably nothing. In fact, I'd heard they had a fantastic night club, and maybe that was just what I needed right now.
At the next intersection, I turned left toward the east side of town.
Chapter Two
"Give me another." I gave my empty glass a light push so it slid forward over the polished wood bar counter. The barkeep, a bearded guy in his mid-forties, or so I guessed, took it from me wordlessly. His lack of comment as he worked didn't surprise me. We hadn't exchanged more than a few words since I'd come in here a couple of hours ago, which suited me just fine. I hadn't come here for small-talk. I'd come here to get shit-faced, and I was well on my way.
A glance at my watch me told me that it was nearing midnight.
I was only a few minutes away from the anniversary my siblings had gathered to commemorate.
Lovely.
The barkeep put my glass in front of me again—refilled with an amber liquid and two ice cubes—and I reached for it. It was cool to the touch and felt good in my hand, comforting.
On my wrist, the clock ticked on.
I raised my glass and took a long sip, glancing around the club again.
What was so bad about this place that Dad had wanted me to stay away?
Probably just another one of his illusions. For all his insanity, though, he'd been a good man for the most part, opening his home and heart to five children he'd had no blood relation to whatsoever, making us a family. An odd family, but still.
I took another sip of my liquor and focused on the feeling of the whiskey burning down my throat. Whiskey had been Dad's favorite drink. "Here's to you, old man," I whispered. Nobody paid me any attention.
Almostnobody.
There was that sexy stranger at the other end of the bar whose eyes kept darting to me ever so surreptitiously. I'd noticed him too. Honestly, it was hardnotto notice the man, what with the scars running over his right cheek and forehead. They weren't ugly scars, though. At least, I didn't think so. They were... interesting. I kind of wondered how it'd feel to run my fingers over them. Or maybe that was the whiskey talking.
Not that I really cared.
I set the glass down and chanced another look at the stranger. Our eyes met. A slow smile spread on his lips and warmth pooled in my belly. Was that a hint of silver I saw in his black hair? I couldn't tell you why, but that always excited me. There was nothing sexier than a seasoned silver fox who knew what he wanted and wouldn't fuck around the way guys my age usually did.
It wasn't like I'd come here to meet anyone, but if the opportunity arose... I dropped my eyes to my drink before taking another sip, refueling on liquid courage. No one had ever accused me of being shy or anything, but being in strange places made me feel apprehensive and I'd never been to this bar before tonight.
I hadn't thought I'd meet other gay men here. After all, I was pretty sure this wasn't a gay bar. Or was it? Maybe that was why my dad wanted me to stay away. For a second, I imagined my old man wandering into a gay night club by accident. I imagined a bartender in a revealing sparkly outfit laying the moves on my dad, who would back away and say, "Dear boy, shouldn't you be wearing more clothes? You'll catch a cold," in a very concerned tone of voice.
A sound rose in the back of my throat, something almost like laughter, but I suffocated it before it could escape. And then I emptied my glass.
I wanted to seek eye contact with the sexy stranger again, but was distracted by someone sitting down next to me. To my immense disappointment, it wasn't Mr. Good-Looking. Nope, just a regular dude, stocky build and brown hair everywhere. He smelled like liquor. To be fair, I probably didn't smell any better, but I wasn't forcing my presence on other people either.
