Vicki stared, her mouth gaping. “How much do you want her to spend?”
Don’t, David, please don't. Vicki would definitely spend exactly what he told her to, without any hint of remorse. I, on the other hand, would feel like a dirty thief.
He grinned, completely ignoring me as he ripped a corner of his notepad, scribbled something down on it, showed it to Sam, who nodded, then passed it to Vicki. “No less than this.”
Vicki gasped.
“What? Vicki, how much? Tell me?” I whined.
She folded the paper and slipped it into her pocket, spinning back to the stove with a bounce in her step. “So, we’ll go shopping on Saturday morning then, before your friends arrive?”
I folded my arms and looked at David.
“What?” He shrugged, holding both hands out, looking so cute and human my heart melted.
You’re cheeky, David, but I love you.
While David had mastered the styles and behaviours of the twenty-first century, practicing them well at school, when it came to automatically switching to ‘good boy’ mode around a girl’s parents, old habits died hard. He ate with the perfection of his inner English Lord, talking topics over dinner that had my dad more than a little impressed, and even complimented Vicki’s cooking. I kept watching his fork go from his plate to his mouth like a graceful bird flying, wondering how it affected him to eat human food. But when it came to the apple pie, I don’t think he was lying about it being his favourite, because he ate mine too. Then, he scored extra points with the parental units by helping me with the dishes, forever winning Sam over by giving him the night off. Didn’t earn enough trust for my dad to leave the kitchen, though. Instead, he decided to ‘read his paper’ while David and I stood by the sink, trying to talk about ‘human’ stuff.
David finished wiping the counter and re-rolled his sleeves before sticking hands back into the water, then handing me a soapy plate.
“Is it awful?” I asked, taking it in my towel-covered hand.
“Is what awful?”
I leaned closer, keeping one eye on Dad. “Eating?”
David let out a short breath of laughter. “No. It’s very normal for me. I mean—” He bent his knees so his lips came in line with my ear. “It’s not totally necessary, but I still enjoy it.”
“Really? So, it tastes okay?”
“Yeah.” He laughed. “I guess it’s like chocolate; you don’t need it, and you can’t survive on it, but you can enjoy it now and then.”
“Oh.” I nodded. “I thought it’d be like vamp—I mean, like your kind in the movies, you know; how it tastes like ash.”
“Nope. Things actually taste better,” he added, handing me another plate. “My senses are very finely tuned, so, taste is enhanced, touch is enhanced. Everything.” His smile was oh-so incredibly suggestive.
“So?” I said slowly, running one finger at a snail’s pace down his spine, feeling the soft silk of his shirt bunch up as I glided along. “This feels better when you’re a vampire?”
“Shh.” He nodded toward my dad, his shoulders lifting with the slow breath he took after. “And, yes. That feels incredible.”
Dad stood up suddenly and walked out of the room.
I held my breath. “Did he hear me?”
David listened for a second, then shook his head. “No. He’s gone to talk to Vicki about Mike coming to stay.”
“Well, what about it?”
“He just realised he might need some help getting that giant sofa out of the spare room. He’s going to ask me.”
“So he trusts you to help move furniture and do dishes, but not be alone in the kitchen with his daughter?”
“Sounds pretty standard for dads, Ara.”
“Yeah, well, maybe we should tell him you’re a vampire—at least then he’d stop worrying about me getting pregnant.”
“Why wouldn’t he worry?”
“Because you’re a vampire. Vampires can’t have babies.”
“That’s…” He grinned. “Not entirely true.”
“What!” My eyes nearly bulged out of my head.
He laughed and looked at the pile of dishes. “You know, I can think of at least three better ways to be spending our evening. You want me to get this done in record time?” A hint of mischief shimmered behind his eyes.
“Okay,” I said slowly.
He grabbed both my shoulders and gently directed me to stand centre to the room. “Count to twenty,” he said, then disappeared into a blur of grey and black, like watching the road out the window when driving down the highway. The faucet ran, cupboard doors shut and opened, and I stood, mouth open, towel and plate still in hand, until David grabbed it and placed it on the shelf, closing the cupboard door after, dusting off his hands as he stood beside me. “All done.”
“I only counted to ten!” I said.
“Told you.” He jerked one shoulder up and dropped it. “I’m fast.”
“Hm.” I wrapped my arms along the sides of his waist and pressed my cheek to his shirt buttons. “I knew there was a reason I should keep you around.”
“Shall we go upstairs? I’ll give you a few more.”
“Tease.” I smiled, squeezing him tighter. We both knew he wouldn’t come upstairs with me. It was past ten o’clock, and he had his rules.
“It’s out of respect for you, Ara.”
“I know, but it’s annoying.” I pulled my scarf away from my neck a little, allowing the bruises to breathe.
“Look at you.” David ran his thumb over the skin just beside the mark. “We shouldn’t have done that. You’re going to have bruises for weeks.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.” He covered the bruise again. “I watched you fidget with that all night. I know it’s bothering you.”
“It was worth it.”
“No. I was way too rough with you.”
“I liked it.” I looked up, my voice and my eyes filling with all the guilt of a child who just stole the last cookie.
He let a breath out through his smile. “You’re not the shy, meek little thing I thought you were, are you?”
“No, I’m really not—and, you know, when you did that to me, it made me feel—I don’t know.” I shook my head, lost for the right word.
David smiled warmly. “I do. I believe the words you’re looking for are excited, lustful—” his voice lowered before he said, “Aroused.”