“Some are stuffy, boring,” Lana adds. “You should have a midnight soirée. Picture this: white lights everywhere setting a romantic mood with soft music playing in the background.”
“So your freak friends can come?” Leslie’s words have a lot of bite, no pun intended.
“Sounds like all my parties,” I point out, hoping to get back on topic before Leslie and Lana go at it.
“For your uneducated mind, vampires walk among us, Leslie. They don’t only come out at night or sleep in coffins.”
Leslie looks at me; she smiles and starts to gather her stuff. “I can’t sit here anymore.” She stands and without another word, walks back toward the hotel.
“What’s her problem?” Lana asks as she slides over to the now vacated chair. “She thinks she’s better than us.”
“Everyone has their own beliefs.”
“And what are yours?”
I look over at Lana, taking her all in. She’s tall, slender and her hair always makes the perfect messy bun. Every time I see her with one, I’m jealous because mine is either flat, my extensions show or I have so much product in my hair it hurts to touch. “I don’t know,” I tell her honestly. “You’re the first person I know who has admitted to being with one and liking it. I’ve heard horror stories though.”
“Loving,” she corrects me. “Fiona, I had never been treated so amazingly by a man until that moment. And those stories you hear, it’s because the media wants to scare you. It’s all propaganda by the government to strike fear in the humans.”
“But he bit you.”
“Only after he asked.” Her hand comes up to her neck, and she smiles. “When I saw him at the gym, I could tell there was a spark. He didn’t have to compel me either; I went willingly. And it wasn’t like we met and bam. We talked, flirted, laughed. I suggested it because I wanted him, whether he’s human or not.”
I want to be happy for my friend, and maybe I am. I turn back toward the pool and survey the crowd. The vampire waiter is across the way, chatting up some women. He leans down, almost as if he’s going to whisper something, only he cradles her head in his hand. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he’s doing. He’s biting her, out in public for all of us to see. I feel like I should say something, but my voice will be ignored. Either he’s compelled her or she’s invited him in, which is none of my business, and yet I find myself staring, watching. My hand goes to my neck and Lana chuckles beside me.
“It’s the most amazing feeling in the world,” she says. “Let me know when you want to try it. I can hook you up.”
Tearing my eyes away from the scene across from me, I gather my belongings and stand. “Louis is about to open up, let’s go.” I don’t wait for Lana to follow behind because I know she will, she always does.
3
Roman
I spent the better half of two days researching everything I could find about James Weston, from scouring the Internet to following him around silently, observing. Much like hunting prey, I stalked him. He has an ex-wife, living off his fortune via a sizable alimony settlement in California, and new, younger wife living with him here in Las Vegas with strangely colored hair. Being as old as I am, there are some fashion trends I cannot get behind, and young women dyeing their hair an odd silver gray prematurely is one of them. The most fruitful bit of my research was finding out Weston has a daughter. A beautiful, socialite daughter, who looks to be my ticket to getting what I want.
Though I found her incredibly attractive when I came across her pictures, she appears as empty as most humans, if not more. She had managed to get herself a business degree in college; however, it seems she is doing nothing more than socializing, shopping and spending her father’s money, which leads me to believe she is definitely daddy’s little girl. Perfect for me. Girls who dote on their fathers are generally easily swayed by my inherent charm, and I plan to make sure she is no different. Win the favor or even the lust of the daughter— get my casino. The perfect plan.
With my plan in place, I set out to run into her in a seemingly accidental manner. It continues to baffle me how easily you can find out about people on the Internet, which informed me that she hung out at a swanky pool club many afternoons, and fortunately for me, I have a friend who works there as a waiter. As luck would have it, she’s exactly where her social media account said she was: with friends, and much to my delight they’re talking about sleeping with vampires.
Grinning, I continue to listen from afar, blocking out the other mindless chatter surrounding me. This group of women is the only thing interesting me right now, and I really want to know what they have planned for the rest of their afternoon.
The fact she has no real opinion on vampires bodes well in my favor. I can use this to my advantage, striking up a conversation and putting her at ease before I go in for the kill, so to speak. It’s her initial reaction to her friend spilling the little tidbit about sleeping with a vampire that has me leaning fo
rward even though it’s unnecessary for me to do so. I observe the way her body reacts to her friend’s tale of a romp in a locker room with a vampire. I can feel her intrigue, but also her heart rate increases as though she’s nervous in some way, which piques my interest. She’s never been with a vampire, but she’s thought about it. I can feel a smirk form, knowing that I’m going to charm her. I think it will be rather enjoyable.
At first glance, it may seem callous or cold to target her, but it’s not like she’s some kind of saint. I am positioning myself to run into her shopping for Louis Vuitton for Christ’s sake, which sounds like she has plenty of, simply because they’re releasing new items today. If that isn’t the vainest and superfluous way to spend a Thursday afternoon, I don’t know what is. As I wait to stalk them shopping, I wonder what is taking them so long to get ready.
It’s easy to go unnoticed in Las Vegas, getting lost in the crowds, which is why it’s one of my favorite cities that I’ve lived in over the years. With new faces every day, I blend in easily, walking among the humans, with the exception of my mark. Each of us is branded with the Mark of the Fates, from the day we are born again as vampires. Much of the lore in the movies and in the media is complete bullshit. The reality is, we vampires have our own hierarchy and societal expectations to abide by, far outside of the rules we agree to follow amongst the humans. We all used to be human at one point, this much is true. But I can follow the girls in broad daylight; I won’t burst into flames or sparkle for that matter, and with the exception of my very pale skin, and my Mark of the Fates, I can go undetected as a human if I choose to, which generally I do.
I’m a businessman by nature, and I’ve never been a controversial vampire. When I first turned, I had a bit of fun running around before there were any understandings between vampires and humans, but I’ve never fed on anyone without their permission. I never wanted to be a poster child or role model of any kind for vampires either. I’ve always enjoyed starting new businesses, successful companies or ventures that I build myself. The satisfaction of creating something that lives on has lit a fire in me for as long as I can remember. Many, in fact, most, vampires are wealthy because over time we invest, and we live to see the fruits of our labor. This casino is important to me. More than any of the other enterprises I’ve taken on.
I see her through the window of the store; her shiny blonde hair is held out of her face with designer sunglasses perched on her head, thankful her vampire-hating friend known as Leslie decided not to join her. Fiona’s tongue darts out, wetting her plump pink lips, toying with the cross dangling from her neck. The rule is if someone wears a cross, they’re off limits from our compulsion, which means I’m going to have to spend time getting to know her. Leaving us no choice but to meet and talk.
As I continue to observe her fondling the new purses with her friend, Lana, I formulate how I’ll do it. Approaching her now isn’t going to work. I need a new plan, a moment where Fiona Weston happens to me and not the other way around.
“So Fiona, what’s this party for exactly?” I turn sharply when I hear this question. I heard mention of a party earlier but brushed it off as another socialite function meant to bore me until now. This is where I could spend time with her. I need to get an invitation to this party.
I continue to listen, hoping to find out more when the friend called Lana brings up the very event. “It’s a gathering of investors. People with too much money and time on their hands who want to throw millions at the casinos. There’s a few of them that are for sale you know, so people are always looking for money.”