Forbidden Nights with a Vampire(21)

 

The elevator door opened, and he charged down the hall to Vanda's apartment. The door was locked, but that wouldn't have stopped Max from teleporting in.

 

Phil kicked the door in. The interior was completely dark, all the windows covered with thick aluminum shutters. He flipped on the lights, half expecting to see bloodstains and piles of dead vampire dust.

 

The room was spotless. Undisturbed. But it was too soon to feel relieved.

 

He opened a door and turned on the lights. Cora Lee and Pamela Smythe-Worthing lay on twin beds, motionless in their death-sleep. There was no sign of struggle. The women were neatly tucked in, their hands clasped, their faces peaceful. They must have fallen into their death-sleep without knowing that Max had snuck in.

 

Phil went back to the living room. There was an odd pattern on the carpet, as if someone had vacuumed in a serpentine fashion. The path led straight to another door, which was slightly ajar.

 

Max had not come alone.

 

Phil pulled a knife from the sheath buckled to his calf, then slowly pushed the door open wide. Light from the living room spilled into the bedroom, illuminating Vanda's bed. His skin chilled with a shudder.

 

Max's fifteen-foot-long python was slowly coiling itself around Vanda's motionless body.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 5

 

 

 

 

That evening after sunset, Vanda's heart jolted in her chest, bringing her back to life. A bright light overhead accosted her eyes, and her heart lurched a second time with alarm. She hadn't left the lights on in her room. And what was this heavy thing across her waist?

 

She glanced to the side and gasped with a strangled-sounding squeak.

 

Phil jerked awake. "What is it?" In a second he was kneeling beside her with a knife in his hand.

 

"Phil!" Vanda scooted to the edge of the bed. "What are you doing here?"

 

"Sorry. Didn't mean to alarm you." He slid the knife into a sheath under his khaki pants. He was dressed in his usual MacKay uniform, minus his shoes. "I must have dozed off."

 

"In my bed?" She grabbed the sheet to pull it up to her chin, but dropped it when she noticed the sheets were white. What the hell? Her sheets had been purple when she'd gone to bed. And why did her body feel strangely sore, as if she'd been pummeled with brute force? "What—What's going on? How did you get in here?"

 

"I…broke down the door." He held up his hands when she took a deep breath to yell at him. "It's okay! I had it fixed. Everything's fine."

 

"The hell it is!" She realized with a shock that she was wearing her green pajama top and shorts instead of the purple ones she'd gone to bed in. Good Lord, how desperate could Phil be? "You broke into my apartment to sleep with me?"

 

He snorted. "I did a lot more than sleep."

 

"Oh my God!" She jumped out of bed.

 

"Oh, come on." He rose to his feet with an indignant look. "You think I would have sex with you while you were sleeping?"

 

"I was dead, Phil. That makes it really creepy."

 

He gave her an incredulous look. "How can you believe I would do that?"

 

She plucked at her T-shirt. "You changed my clothes."

 

"Well, yes. But I tried not to look." His gaze drifted south and his mouth curled up.

 

His attempt had obviously failed. She waved a hand to snap him out of the dreamy-eyed trance he'd fallen into. "Hey! Pervert!"

 

That got his attention. He stiffened and his eyes flashed with anger. "I didn't molest you, Vanda."

 

She pointed at the bed. "You changed my sheets."

 

"I had to. They were covered with…stuff."

 

She gasped again.

 

"Not mine," he growled. "Now, sit down and listen."

 

She remained standing so she could glare at him. When she crossed her arms over her chest, the soreness made her wince.

 

His annoyed expression changed into concern. "Are you all right? I checked for broken bones and you seemed okay, but I was worried you might have some cracked ribs."

 

Her skin chilled with goose bumps. "What happened—" A hunger pain slammed into her gut, nearly doubling her over. The room swirled around.

 

"Hold on." Phil scrambled across the bed and caught her by the shoulders.

 

"No." She pulled away and stumbled, nearly falling down. He smelled too good, with his blood coursing rapidly through his veins. Her gums tingled. "I need to eat."

 

Her hunger was always strongest when she first awoke. She weaved toward the foot of the bed and recognized the scent of blood. Strange blood, not human.