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

The refrigerator door opened and closed and then I heard some shuffling.  Footsteps sounded on the floor, much more loudly this time, and then a shadow appeared in the dim shaft of light coming through the open door.

They knew I was awake.

“Ridley, my name is Denise Bowman.  I’m Jonathan’s mother,” the kind feminine voice said from the doorway.

I turned my head as her shadow came further into the room.  She reached beside my head to snap on a bedside lamp.

I squinted into the light and looked up at the tiny woman leaning over me.  Though she was a very attractive woman, she didn’t look very much like Bo.  She was petite and had dark skin and blue eyes.  The contrast with her midnight hair was striking.  That was the only trait it appeared that they shared—their dark hair.

She smiled down at me and the corners of her eyes crinkled.  It was a sweet, comforting gesture that put me at ease right away.

“Where’s Bo?” The question came out as a hoarse croak.

“Don’t try to talk too much yet.  Here, have a sip of water,” she said, holding a straw to my lips.

Tentatively, I pursed my lips and took a small sip.  When nothing cried out in agony, I took a longer draw from it.  The cold liquid was like a soothing balm to my dry throat and burning tongue.

I cleared my throat.  “What happened?”

I knew that I got punched, but little more than that was clear.

“Bo said you had a bit of a run-in with your boyfriend,” she answered diplomatically.

“Ex boyfriend,” I murmured.

“What?”

I asked instead, “How did I end up here?”

“Bo brought you here so he wouldn’t have to take you home unconscious.”

I nodded.  That was probably smart.  “What time is it?”

“Twenty after eleven,” she said, glancing down at her watch.

Wow!  I’d been out longer than I’d thought.

“I’m sorry to impose on you this way,” I said, sitting up and dropping my legs over the side of the bed.  I was only upright for a few seconds when the room began to tilt and sway.  I teetered, leaning back on my elbow to keep from falling over.  “Whoa!”

“You shouldn’t move too fast.  Apparently, you took a pretty good knock to the head.”

I closed my eyes to give the room time to return to rights, but it was reluctant to do so.  I felt a cold sweat break out on my forehead and my stomach sloshed with nausea.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” I said weakly, saliva pouring into my mouth.

“Lay back down on your side.  I’ll be right back,” she said, scurrying off.

I did as she instructed and the nausea and dizziness abated almost immediately.  I heard Bo’s mother opening and closing cabinet doors and then I heard water running.

While she was gone, I seized the opportunity to take in my surroundings.

I was in a small bedroom with one window, which was covered in thick, black curtains that matched the comforter on which I was lying.  The walls were a medium gray and a plush black rug covered most of the shiny hardwood floors.

The colors alone made it clear that it was a guy’s room, but as I looked more closely, I could see hints of Bo here and there.  His black hoodie hung on the back of the door, a watch I’d seen him wear was thrown on top of the dresser, and his messenger bag lay in the floor by the nightstand. 

It was incredibly comforting just being in his room, in his bed, much more so than I ever would’ve imagined.  I melted into the mattress, turning my face into the pillow and inhaling deeply.  I could smell him as if he was lying right next to me.

Bo’s mother came back into the room carrying a bucket, a wet cloth, and an armful of assorted supplies.  I had to smile.  It was like the kit I kept under the sink for Mom.

She laid the wet rag on my forehead and asked, “Do you still feel sick?”

“No.  I think I just got up too fast,” I admitted.  “I’m sorry to put you to all this trouble.”

“You’re no trouble at all. I’m only sorry we had to meet this way,” she said.

I didn’t know how to respond to that.  Was that just a generic comment or did she know who I was?  Had Bo mentioned me?

Warmth spread through me at the mere prospect of Bo telling his mother about me.  I have no idea why that would please me so much, but it did.

Since she hadn’t answered me the first time, I asked again, “Where is Bo, by the way?”

“He’s running an errand for me.  He’ll be back shortly to take you home,” she explained.

Thoughts of home made me remember my mangled face.  I reached up to touch my cheek again, knowing it had to be at least three different colors.

“How bad is it?”

A strange look flitted over her face before it smoothed out.  “What?  How bad is what?”

“My face,” I specified.

“Your face is fine.  Why wouldn’t it be?”

“Um, because Drew punched me.  Hard.  And I remember it hurting so badly that I thought my jaw was broken.”

She was watching me closely.  “Well, it looks fine to me.  How does it feel?”

Gingerly, I worked the joint.  It seemed stiff more than anything, but certainly not broken.

“A little stiff, but ok.”

“Good.  Maybe you won’t even have a bruise.”

“But how—” I began, but then remembered what I thought I’d heard Bo say.  “Did Bo—”

I stopped myself. 

Ms. Bowman’s eyes were alert and a tiny frown creased her brow.  “Did Bo what?”  The way she prompted me seemed a bit anxious.

What exactly did I remember?  Nothing that made sense, that’s for sure.  I could hardly admit to his mother that I thought I’d heard him say he’d heal me.  She’d have me in the ER getting my brain scanned as soon as I could say spit.

I shook my head, hoping it might rid it of crazy thoughts and half-baked memories.

“Nothing.  Sorry, everything’s still a little hazy.”  I looked down, away from her perceptive eyes, and it was then that I noticed her clothes.  “Are you a nurse?”

She seemed puzzled at first.  “What?”  But then she noticed me looking at her scrubs.  “Oh, these?  No, I’m not a nurse.  I’m a lab tech and phlebotomist.”