Roman (The Clutch 1)

“Put the fangs away, babe. I think it’s a good thing.” She gets up and walks to the dressing table to finish getting ready.

In a flash, I’m at her side, angry. “What are you planning to discuss, Fiona?” I ask again, with more fervor, my voice low and agitated.

“He is a reasonable man, Roman. I believe if I sit down and have a frank chat with him about the good your casino will do for the community, and how in turn, granting the permit would make him look good, he will come to see it is the right thing to do. Approve your license.”

Humans concern themselves with trying to reason with each other far too much. This is a terrible idea, and I hope from my expression that she can see I’m displeased. To maintain composure, I merely ask, “Do you really think that’s such a good idea? It hasn’t been that long since…” I don’t need to finish my sentence.

Crossing her arms and facing me sternly she replies. “Look, Roman, he’s still my dad. He’s not the greatest man of all time. He’s got some skeletons in his closet that he knows I could expose. I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing it for the children. And he’s my father, you can’t tell me what to do, so don’t even bother trying.” She raises her hand to her cross and fidgets with it uncomfortably.

It distresses me to make her feel bad about her relationship with her father, but I have seen how humans like him behave over the last five centuries, and it’s not right. They’ll betray and forsake their own blood for money and power, and my instincts tell me that he’s no different.

“I wouldn’t dream of telling you what to do, but may I give you my opinion?” I never need to demand of her, and she gives me her full attention, with less defensive posturing.

“Of course you can, I’m sorry,” she says.

“I know that he is your father, but we do agree that he has a rather unsavory character. Would that be a fair assessment?”

“Yes, that would be fair.” She rolls her eyes, awaiting the rest.

“Then perhaps this isn’t the best time. It’s too soon, and you’ve not reconciled your personal differences just yet. Before you go threatening to uncover all of his dirty deeds, maybe you should consider getting back into his good graces instead? Then, once you’re on more cordial terms, you start asking for favors and understanding?” Literally the most diplomatic thing that’s ever fallen from my lips. What I wanted to say was fuck this guy, I don’t need his license or his casino. I can fund the orphanage on my own, or I could compel a human to get the license for me if that’s what I wanted. What I don’t fucking want, is her father meddling in our lives. But I stay prudent and gracious.

She looks at me thoughtfully again, scanning my face for a sign of some kind. “While I don’t disagree with your strategy overall, I think with my father direct and brutal is the way to go.”

I’d love to be brutal with him. I’ll not soon be over the almost staking.

“I will never tell you what to do, and I’ll support you in any way that I can. Perhaps I should go with you.”

“You most certainly should not!” she exclaims.

“Why not? What if you need my protection?”

“I will not need protection. My dad is a conniving asshole, but he’s not going to do anything that requires any sort of protection. So you just stand down, vampire. We don’t need another scene. I have this under control.”

“As you wish, Fiona,” I reply. I lean down to kiss her, pulling her into my arms. She smells like fresh linen that’s been out in the sun to dry. Clean, and pristine, I want to drag her back to bed and soil the sheets again, just like we did the night before. I deepen our kiss, hoping to lure her back into my bed, and at first, she seems to concede. She then breaks away, giving me one more small kiss before she gathers the things she needs for her day.

“Lana was hoping we could all get together for a late dinner. Are you free tonight?” she asks, hopefully.

“For you, I am always free,” I reply, garnering a sweet smile from her. I don’t particularly enjoy going out to dinner, other than for the fact that I want her to be healthy and fed. I’ve been considering hiring a personal chef so that she has food whenever she wants here. I wouldn’t know how to make anything, nor do I want to bother learning a skill that will serve no purpose at the end of her life.

My thoughts turn to the end of her life. She is young, and if she marries me, we will have many years together. But not an eternity. Wasting time like she is today frustrates me. We should be enjoying our limited time together. Not pandering to a man who wants me and my whole kind dead.

20

Fiona

Al

l day, I waited for my father to come into his office. Each time I stopped by, the sickeningly sweet secretary placated me with canned responses. He’s in a meeting. He’s at lunch. He’s at an appointment. Never mind the fact, he didn’t call me once he found out I came into his office, which is so unlike him. If he’s trying to send a message, it’s being received loud and clear.

I angle my neck, turning my head left and right, checking to see if Roman’s teeth marks can be spotted through the tattoo cover-up cream I bought the other day. So far, I’ve been able to keep the bruising hidden, which has allowed me to keep my relationship with Roman a secret. It’s not that I want to hide him, but until I can get my father to understand, it’s the only way to survive right now.

Roman’s right, the incident with him and dad is likely still fresh in my father’s mind, but I’m going to reassure him he has nothing to fear when it comes to my vampire. Although I won’t be able to use those exact words, in my mind, it’s what I’ll say because when it comes right down to it, Roman’s mine.

I’ve never been a possessive girlfriend until now. Honestly, I’m not sure if I am controlling when it comes to Roman or if it’s the bond between us doing some underlying mysticism crap. As much as I didn’t want to believe in the vampire/human bond thing, there’s no denying it. When Roman is near, I can sense his need, not only to consume my life force to quench his hunger but also his desire to fuck me. I don’t know if he realizes this, but he lets off a pheromone so intense when he’s thinking about me, it makes my blood dance. The energy I feel, detecting his presence is something I’ve never felt before. At first, I didn’t like it. The sensation was odd and uncomfortable as if I had taken speed and was reaching my peak. My skin prickled and my heart raced, and it scared me. After a few times with Roman, I figured it out. It’s the bond, working in some mysteriously magical way and now I find it soothing, relaxing and dare say, exciting. Mostly because I know what’s coming.

Finding the tattoo concealer was like hitting the lottery. It was like happenstance when Lana and I were out shopping, and we passed by a parlor. She mentioned getting a tattoo and grabbed me by the arm to pull me inside to inquire about the process. The woman behind the counter was a vampire and laughed at our ridiculous attire, scarves around our necks in hundred degree plus weather. She handed me a tube of cream and a mirror, speaking the unspoken language between women, alive and dead, makeup. Lana and I quickly went to work on our bite marks, completely taken aback by the cream and how it adequately covered the evidence of my lover biting me in the middle of our lovemaking session. “Let it dry fully.” Those were her only instructions.

And now, I find myself happy with the results. No one will know, and thankfully, it doesn’t sweat or rub off. How no one has told the world about this cream, I’ll never know. Roman could’ve saved me a lot of trouble if he had known.