1. How to Seduce a Vampire
There you are.
I grinned seductively across the bar, batting my eyelashes as I made direct eye contact with the handsome gentleman sipping at a glass of... something.
Beside me, Opal leaned closer. “Is that him?” she whispered, eyeing him. “He’s cute.”
In other words, he’s a vampire.
It’s not difficult to spot the difference between a human and a vampire. Vampires have always looked... god-like, to say the least. They’re utterly flawless, beautiful, attractive, alluring... Though I’ve trained myself to see through the perfections. To see how unnatural their pasty skin and dark eyes are. To see how they run their tongue over their teeth when they think nobody’s watching. To see how they watch the world around them with hunger...
This one’s no different.
I nodded at Opal, keeping my gaze fixed on the vampire in question - Marcus Chauncey, three-hundred and eighty-five years old. Lived in England for two-and-a-half centuries before emigrating here. Was Turned at twenty-seven years old. Tends to hang out in bars at night and feed on attractive girls who are drawn towards him... after having his fun with them, that is.
And he’s about to be dead.
“Isn’t he dreamy?” I whispered back to Opal, knowing he could hear me perfectly well. That’s why we talk in code when we’re on these missions. Marcus Chauncey let out a silent chuckle, smirking, as he took another sip of what I guessed was champagne of some kind... or, well, blood mixed with champagne.
“You should definitely go talk to him!” Opal pushed at my shoulder, urging me off of the stool I was perched on. “He won’t stop staring at you!”
In other words, go kill him, he wants you for dinner.
“But what if I’m rejected?” I did my best to play the part of the uncertain, low-confidence girl who’s terrified of rejection. “I don’t think I look...” I let myself trailed off, scratching at my arm.
The vampire looked very interested now, and I finally looked away from him, biting my lip, forcing a blush to cross my cheeks.
Opal made a show of scanning me up and down, rolling her eyes. “You look ravishing, girl! Now go talk to him! Go get some!”
I hit her arm softly, letting out a girlish giggle that would have made me want to die on a normal day.
“But are you sure?” I blinked, chewing on my bottom lip. “Maybe... maybe you should talk to him first. You’re so much better at this than I am...”
Opal let out a long sigh. “I have a boyfriend already, remember?”
That was the first truth she’s told since we stepped foot in this bar.
I pretended to be pondering this, pulling out my phone, checking myself over in the camera. As planned, I looked practically perfect. I had used a flat iron on my hair, straightening it to make it more manageable, and outlined my eyes with black liner to make them look dark and mysterious. My dress was picked out with Marcus Chauncey’s particular taste in mind. Tight, form-fitting, and much too short for me to be comfortable. Not to mention the neckline was far too low. It’s a miracle my breasts haven’t sprung free yet.
Yay! Freedom! Fresh air! No more suffocating, uncomfortable dress!
“You look fine,” Opal snatched my phone out of my hand. “Go,” she pushed my arm harder, and I practically flew off the stool. Regaining my balance, I glared at her. That was not in the script. She grinned at me, making a shooing motion with her hand.
I sighed, turning back to my target. Marcus Chauncey was still looking at me, taking me in as I stood up straight, bouncing back on my heels - they were just as uncomfortable as the dress.
I knew exactly what he’d be seeing right now - an awkward, shy, albeit devastatingly beautiful girl, most likely a submissive, possibly a virgin.
Fortunately, he’d be wrong about all of those assumptions.
Hesitantly, I crept across the floor towards him, resisting the urge to slip my hand into my hidden pocket - this dress has a pocket! - and caress my... secret weapon... as his dark eyes slid over me, taking in my long, over-exposed legs, his gaze slowly sliding up my body, resting briefly on my over-exposed breasts, before coming to a halt on my eyes.
His tongue slid over his teeth.
He sees his prey.
Now I need to make him pounce.
I came to a stop in front of him, wringing my hands uncomfortably, as he smirked at me.
“Can I help you?” he said, in what he probably assumed was a seductive tone.
“Um...” I bit my lip. “I thought you were... attractive... so... um... my friend made me come... uh... talk to you?” I blinked, looking up at him through my lashes, trying my best to look like I was utterly infatuated with him. Trying my best to look as though I do not know what he is.
Not that he’s bothering to hide it. Nowadays, everybody knows that vampires exist. Everybody knows that all the creatures from horror stories and fairytales are real... well, maybe not fairytales. I don’t remember Cinderella ever dancing with a vampire... though I suppose the Beast could be a werewolf.
He leaned closer, his eyes darkening further. “You’re a shy one, aren’t you?” he grinned. “I like the shy ones.”
I rocked on my heels, slightly disgusted by him - actually very disgusted - but I managed to pass it off as just being awkward. I’m rather good at being awkward.
I took a deep breath, collecting myself, and looked directly into his eyes. “Not shy,” I murmured. “Just... inexperienced.”
Maintain eye contact.
“Inexperienced?” his eyes sparked with interest. “From my experience, the inexperienced ones always taste sweeter.”
Any day now...
“What?” I gave him a shy smile. “Like, my blood?”
“So you know what I am,” he chuckled. “You’re a smart one.”
I batted my lashes at him. “I may frequent around a feeder den... It’s not hard to recognize vampires.”
His gaze turned more intense.
That’s it. Just a bit longer...
“I mean, they’re all so attractive...” I went on, moving closer. “So intoxicating...” I dropped the sweet-girl act. The dumb leech didn’t even notice. You’re supposed to be nearly four hundred years old. You’d think he’d be just a little more perceptive. “I bet they’re all just amazing in bed...”
To accentuate my point, I placed a manicured hand on his chest, my fingers playing with the material of the blue shirt he wore. His eyes darkened further - this time with lust, mixed in with his hunger.
“Why don’t you find out?” he broke the eye contact, leaning forward to nip at my ear. I frowned, moving back.
“But my friend... she’s waiting for me...”
“I’m sure your friend will be just fine,” he pulled back, making eye contact with me again. His pupils turned a bright red, the iris seeming to... move. Like it was liquid, rippling as he looked deeply into my eyes. “Why don’t you join me out back for some fun, and you can catch up with your friend later?”
A red light flashed across my vision, for just a moment, and I felt the familiar vertigo of a vampire trying to invade my mind, control my every thought and every action. But, as usual, the vertigo passed quickly as I disposed of the interference, staying in control.
Nobody knows how I can resist a vampire’s leporem, a term that loosely translates to charm or enchant. But I can, somehow, and the vampire trying to leporem doesn’t suspect a thing.
Mostly because I can be pretty damn convincing.
A change came over me, and I let my body language change into one that said I was perfectly on-board with whatever he had planned. I leaned into him, my hands trailing down the front of his shirt, as I bit my lip again and looked at him through my eyelashes.
“You know what?” I purred. “I can catch up with my friend later. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
He drew me closer, a hand snaking around my waist. “That’s what I like to hear.”
Don’t shudder with disgust, Reese. You’ll blow your cover.
He set down his glass of the bloody champagne, his eyes lighting up with anticipation. Gross... and I don’t even want to guess how many girls he’s seduced and sucked the life out of tonight.
Keeping one arm around my waist, making it so I couldn’t run off, he led me away from the bar, through the crowd, and out the back door. I snuck a glance at Opal, seeing her sipping at a glass of water. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her drink alcohol before. I wouldn’t be surprised if she said she’s been sober for twenty-three years.
“What’s your name, chose douce?” he said as the door swung shut behind us - leaving me alone with him. Ah, yes. Just me, a predatory vampire, and my secret weapon. I prayed his hand wouldn’t slip down my waist - feeling my secret beneath my dress would definitely raise suspicion.
“Vanessa,” I said, the first name that popped into my head. “Nessa.”
Moving as though he was a part of the wind, he pinned me up against the wall, his mouth suddenly on my throat. He better not bite me. I’m not in the mood to deal with that tonight.
He didn’t bite - yet. His tongue grazed over my neck, and I fought the urge to cringe away from him. Gross, gross, gross!
I like my targets more when they don’t try to figurately eat me before they literally eat me.
Or, of course, the werewolf targets, who would just rather kill me and be over it. Sometimes. Something I’ve found out since the Takeover is that supernatural beings have a very high sex drive. As opposed to me, who would rather jump off of Queen Elizabeth Way than get in bed with one of them.
As much as I hated this, as much as I wanted to kill this disgusting leech, I had bide my time. Make a move too soon, and you’ll be dead. I played my role to perfection, letting out a soft moan as his hand slid down to my thigh, slowly moving upwards.
I slipped a hand into my pocket. I felt his teeth graze my neck. His hand slid higher, grazing the hem of my dress.
I gripped onto my secret weapon as his hand moved higher still. His fingers grazed the hem of my underwear, and he froze, making contact with my surprise.
He went rigid, and he hissed.
His teeth sunk into my neck, pain flared, searing through my nerves as I pulled the stake out through the hole in my pocket, driving it deep into his heart. He stumbled away from me, looking at the wooden object protruding out of his chest with surprise as he fought to draw in air, his fangs dripping with my blood, running down his chin, staining his shirt. His skin turned an ashen gray, before falling away from his bones, his four-century-long life catching up to him.
He was decomposing before my very eyes.
Seconds later, all that remained of him was a skeleton lying at my feet, the wooden stake sticking up from the ribcage. Silently, I reached down, yanking it free, and tucked it back into the hem of my underwear - I didn’t want anybody else to see the stake.
My neck pounding with stinging pain, blood drying on my shoulder and staining my god-awful dress, I turned away from the skeleton of Marcus Chauncey and walked down the alleyway, not seeing the pair of pale blue eyes that gleamed through the shadows behind me.