“Dinner’s on me. You need your money for the passport.”
“No really, I want to pay my way.”
“Bunny,” he gives me a stern look. “Just let me pay for dinner, okay? You’re not breaking any feminist rule by doing so.”
I screw my face up. “I’m not a feminist.” I drop my bag back down in the foot well. “I just like to pay my way is all. I’m not a leech.”
“I got that for sure,” he chuckles.
He turns the engine on and I glance sideways at him.
“You’re a funny guy, you know,” the words are out before I can stop them.
“Was that you paying me a compliment, Bunny?” he puts his hand to his heart, feigning cardiac arrest.
I purse my lips. “Um, no not really. But you can take it that way if like, as I need to ask a favour … or two.”
“Shoot.”
I glance down at my work clothes. “Would it be okay if you take me home first before going to your lodge? I need to change out of my work clothes. I want to keep the spare set in my bag clean.”
“Sure … and favour number two?” he asks, putting his hand behind my seat, so he can turn to see clear as he reverses out of the parking spot.
“I need to go to the supermarket.”
“For?”
“Water bottles.”
Swinging the car around, he shifts into first, giving me a curious look with his eyes on their way back to the windscreen.
“To empty out and fill up with blood,” I explain.
“Ah, sure, right. No probs,” he smiles. “To the supermarket it is.”
I settle back into my seat, resisting the urge to finish this pizza off, my appetite returning. I need to save my hunger for hunting.
Chapter 7: New Horizon
Walking up the porch steps to the lodge I knock on the door, putting my now full backpack down on the wooden floor.
Zeff was right, these woods are brilliant for hunting. I got everything I needed, enough blood bottled up to keep me going for a good while.
He swings the door open.
He changed his clothes while I was out hunting. He’s wearing sweats and a running vest, and looks really different. I’ve only ever seen him in his smarts; shirts and trousers.
The casual relaxed look suits him. And I was right; he is as toned and muscular as I thought he would be under his shirts. His skin really is a lovely colour; the shade of caramel.
“You should have just let yourself in,” he says with a warm smile.
“I didn’t want to intrude.”
“So you’re all done?” he says.
“Yeah. I just thought I’d stop by and let you know I was going.”
He leans his shoulder against the door frame. Giving me a funny expression, his eyes set on my face, he tilts his head to the side as if contemplating me.
It’s making me feel a little uncomfortable to be honest. I shift on my feet. I’m just about to ask him ‘what?’, when he takes a step through the doorway, closer to me, and reaches his hand up to my face. He rubs his thumb across my cheek.
The instant his skin makes contact with mine a sensation jolts through me. Like a current zapping through me from touching an exposed wire. I feel shocked. Literally. Physically.
It’s the exacweat same feeling I had in the café when he shook my hand. I feel wired. Like there’s a magnetic charge pulsing through me. And in some ways it’s so familiar, like I’ve always experienced this sensation, like he’s always been touching me.
I take a huge step back, a whoosh of air leaving my lungs.
“Blood.” He holds his thumb up showing the evidence, obviously seeing my reaction.
But my reaction is not for the reason he thinks. It’s not because I’m cautious of being touched by a man.
It’s because the guy is able to physically shock me every time he touches me.
It’s weird. And kind of worrying.
It certainly wasn’t just a static shock like I tried to make myself believe the first time it happened. But I do get the distinct impression he doesn’t get the same reaction when we make contact. I can tell from the way his heart rate stays steady.
“No really, I want to pay my way.”
“Bunny,” he gives me a stern look. “Just let me pay for dinner, okay? You’re not breaking any feminist rule by doing so.”
I screw my face up. “I’m not a feminist.” I drop my bag back down in the foot well. “I just like to pay my way is all. I’m not a leech.”
“I got that for sure,” he chuckles.
He turns the engine on and I glance sideways at him.
“You’re a funny guy, you know,” the words are out before I can stop them.
“Was that you paying me a compliment, Bunny?” he puts his hand to his heart, feigning cardiac arrest.
I purse my lips. “Um, no not really. But you can take it that way if like, as I need to ask a favour … or two.”
“Shoot.”
I glance down at my work clothes. “Would it be okay if you take me home first before going to your lodge? I need to change out of my work clothes. I want to keep the spare set in my bag clean.”
“Sure … and favour number two?” he asks, putting his hand behind my seat, so he can turn to see clear as he reverses out of the parking spot.
“I need to go to the supermarket.”
“For?”
“Water bottles.”
Swinging the car around, he shifts into first, giving me a curious look with his eyes on their way back to the windscreen.
“To empty out and fill up with blood,” I explain.
“Ah, sure, right. No probs,” he smiles. “To the supermarket it is.”
I settle back into my seat, resisting the urge to finish this pizza off, my appetite returning. I need to save my hunger for hunting.
Chapter 7: New Horizon
Walking up the porch steps to the lodge I knock on the door, putting my now full backpack down on the wooden floor.
Zeff was right, these woods are brilliant for hunting. I got everything I needed, enough blood bottled up to keep me going for a good while.
He swings the door open.
He changed his clothes while I was out hunting. He’s wearing sweats and a running vest, and looks really different. I’ve only ever seen him in his smarts; shirts and trousers.
The casual relaxed look suits him. And I was right; he is as toned and muscular as I thought he would be under his shirts. His skin really is a lovely colour; the shade of caramel.
“You should have just let yourself in,” he says with a warm smile.
“I didn’t want to intrude.”
“So you’re all done?” he says.
“Yeah. I just thought I’d stop by and let you know I was going.”
He leans his shoulder against the door frame. Giving me a funny expression, his eyes set on my face, he tilts his head to the side as if contemplating me.
It’s making me feel a little uncomfortable to be honest. I shift on my feet. I’m just about to ask him ‘what?’, when he takes a step through the doorway, closer to me, and reaches his hand up to my face. He rubs his thumb across my cheek.
The instant his skin makes contact with mine a sensation jolts through me. Like a current zapping through me from touching an exposed wire. I feel shocked. Literally. Physically.
It’s the exacweat same feeling I had in the café when he shook my hand. I feel wired. Like there’s a magnetic charge pulsing through me. And in some ways it’s so familiar, like I’ve always experienced this sensation, like he’s always been touching me.
I take a huge step back, a whoosh of air leaving my lungs.
“Blood.” He holds his thumb up showing the evidence, obviously seeing my reaction.
But my reaction is not for the reason he thinks. It’s not because I’m cautious of being touched by a man.
It’s because the guy is able to physically shock me every time he touches me.
It’s weird. And kind of worrying.
It certainly wasn’t just a static shock like I tried to make myself believe the first time it happened. But I do get the distinct impression he doesn’t get the same reaction when we make contact. I can tell from the way his heart rate stays steady.
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