For the Love of a Vampire (Blood Like Poison 1)

After we’d traveled several miles, I had to break the increasingly uncomfortable silence.

“Where are we going?”

“Just riding,” he responded.

The narrow back road we were on was a winding two-lane that led to Arlisle Preserve and, beyond that, to Southmoore.

“So, what did you do last night?”  I tried to put my focus elsewhere.  I hated this road because it’s the one Izzy wrecked on.

“Went to Josh’s to work on the Mustang.”  His answer, like his attitude, was short and clipped.

I nodded.  “Is it close to being finished?”

Drew sighed loudly.  “Ridley, I don’t want to talk about a stupid car.”

“Then talk about something else.”

“Fine,” he snapped, shifting up into third to take a curve entirely too fast.

“Drew, slow down.”

“Don’t tell me how to drive, Ridley.  You gave up that privilege.”

“Drew—”

“Don’t ‘Drew’ me,” he warned, accelerating through yet another curve.  “The only thing I want to hear from you is the truth.”

“I told you the truth, Drew.”

“No, you didn’t.  I want to hear you admit that this is about that freak, Bowman,” he spat.

“Drew, Bo has—”

“Don’t lie to me, Ridley,” he shouted, the tires squealing as he rounded a hair pin curve without even so much as tapping the brakes.

I gripped the edges of my seat tightly.  “I’m not lying, Drew.  Please slow down,” I begged.

“You’ve got a thing for the new guy and I want to hear you admit it,” Drew said, his voice booming inside the confines of the car.

As he took another corner at a dangerous speed, the back tires slipped off the road and we skidded in the gravel.  The car fishtailed alarmingly and I felt my heart flopping fearfully in my throat.

My head was plastered to the head rest as I pushed my feet into the floorboard.

“Alright, Drew.  I admit it.  I have feelings for Bo,” I confessed.

“I knew it,” Drew hissed.

“But it had nothing to do with us.  My feelings for Bo came after,” I continued.  “I swear.”

And that was true.  While I might have been intrigued by Bo, a bit taken with him, my feelings for him had been child’s play compared to what they are now.

Drew said nothing.  I looked over at him to gauge his reaction, but I couldn’t read his expression.  I was not inclined to believe that my confession had helped, however, when I saw the tight set of his lips.

“I never meant to hurt you, Drew,” I declared, putting as much truth and feeling into the statement as I possibly could.  “I—”

My words were cut off when I saw the deer from the corner of my eye.  A horrible and unwelcome sense of déjà vu swept over me.  I’d been through this before and I knew I only had a fraction of a second to react before it jumped in front of us.

“Drew!”

My cry didn’t help.  As if in slow motion, the deer leapt from the trees up onto the road.  I heard Drew’s sharp inhalation right before he jerked the steering wheel with both hands to avoid the deer.

We began to spin and I squeezed my eyes shut and held onto the seat so tightly my fingers ached.

I felt it when the two wheels on the driver’s side left the pavement.  It was as if the entire world tilted toward me for an instant before we started rolling.  I braced myself as much as I could and held my breath.

As if the sounds played in my head from a distant recording, I heard the crunch of metal and the breaking of glass right before I felt a sharp pinch in my stomach just as the car came to a halt on its side in the woods.  The reason I knew we were in the woods is that, when I opened my eyes, part of a tree branch was sticking through the windshield.

Shaken and confused, I looked around.

The car had come to rest on the passenger side.  Drew was unconscious and dangling from his seatbelt, his arms lolling lifelessly toward me.  If I unfastened his seatbelt, he would no doubt fall right on top of me.

“Drew,” I called.  No response.

“Drew,” I said, more loudly this time.  Still no response.

I tried to move, but something was holding me in my seat.  The seatbelt strap was on the left side of my chest rather than my right, so I reached down to unbuckle it.  When I did, I stared in confusion at the tree branch that was coming through the windshield.  It seemed to disappear right into my body, into my left side.

At first I didn’t understand how that was possible.  I thought maybe the branch had broken off and it was just pressed against my body, looking as if it disappeared inside me.  I thought surely if I was impaled, it would hurt.  Right?  I’d probably be unconscious, too.  Right?

When I tried to move out from around the branch, pain lanced through my back and side.  Thinking I’d move the branch instead, I pulled at it in one sharp tug.  Blood oozed out from around it.

Following the sight of that branch shifting inside my stomach, a surge of adrenaline flooded my body and burned away the fog that had settled over me.  As the haze lifted, there was a moment—a single moment of perfect clarity—when I realized that the branch was indeed deeply imbedded in my abdomen and that if I didn’t find a way to get us some help, I was in serious, serious trouble.

I fought against the hysteria that welled up inside me, knowing it was imperative that I keep my wits about me.  We could die if I didn’t.  I knew from experience.  Sort of.

I closed my eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath, deep enough to make my side start to hurt again.  I cringed in pain.  When I reopened my eyes, it was to see a pale face hovering over the hood of the car.  In it was a hauntingly familiar pair of eyes, eyes I’d seen in a similar circumstance three years ago.  Only today, I recognized them.  They were Bo’s.

A flash of relief was followed by even more confusion.  I thought to myself that it couldn’t have been Bo’s eyes I’d seen that night so long ago.  It just couldn’t have been.

“Stay still,” he cautioned.  

I nodded, fending off a surreal sense of disorientation that was threatening to swallow me up.

Bo crept carefully up to the car and looked in to assess me.  His face was a tight mask, but I thought I probably knew why.  The sight and smell of my blood was likely very hard for him to tolerate.