Read Online Stefan (Lost Nights Series Book 1) by Jocelynn Drake - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jocelynn Drake
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against his body. “I hope it is not, ma petite . I sincerely hope it is not.”
Chapter 4
We continued like that for the next three days. After the debacle caused by my inattention to the time of day, I was sure to be back inside the apartment before the sun set every night. And at some time during the night, Stefan would appear within my apartment. The vampire couldn’t be troubled to knock on the door and wait for me to allow him entrance. No, he thought it was more like a game. Using his amazing stealth, the sneaky bastard would just suddenly be inside my apartment. Of course, I think surprising the crap out of me also amused him.
It wasn’t all about sex either — not to say that the sex wasn’t wonderful as well. A couple nights we talked for hours. He looked over the drawings I had done during the day and made comments on the architecture or the clothing the people during that particular time period. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him exactly how old he was, but I just couldn’t get the words out. There was a large part of me that didn’t want to know, that was terrified of the answer. With very few exceptions, I could easily forget that he was a vampire. He acted like a regular guy. Well, sort of. His speech was still a little different and he had this “lord of the manor” stiffness to him at times, particularly when he was insulted, which only made me do it on purpose at times because it was so damn funny.
I guess that was why it was so easy to blame the routine for our relaxed state of mind.
Five days after first meeting Stefan, there was a knock at my apartment door a couple hours after sunset. I knew it wasn’t Stefan, because the vampire didn’t believe he was required to knock on my door like some unknown supplicant — his words. He’d also warned me that it was unlikely that he’d be stopping by for a couple nights because some important dignitaries were in town and he had to deal with them. After dropping that interesting bomb, he quickly left and I was stuck dying to know what the hell he did because I’d forgotten yet again to pry details out of him.
I opened the door, expecting one of my neighbors looking to borrow some butter or sugar or whatever it was that neighbors borrowed at eight o’clock at night. And then... nothing.
Someone was pounding on the door. I blinked and gave my head a hard shake, shoving my way through the mental fog toward full consciousness and the dull pain that throbbed in the back of my skull. Turning my head toward the knocking, I was surprised to find that I was across the room, kneeling on the floor. But that didn’t make sense. The last thing I remembered was answering the door. How in the world could I have gotten across the room?
I made fists with my hands as I prepared to push to my feet to answer the door when I realized that my hands were wet and sticky. I looked down to discover they were covered in blood and a gore-encrusted knife was clenched in my left hand. This was all wrong. Panic rushed through me, causing my breath to jump from me in short little pants. Where was all this blood coming from? I wasn’t hurt. It couldn’t be my blood.
My gaze followed the trail of blood on the hardwood floor to the body of the woman lying just a few feet from me. Her eyes stared blindly up at the ceiling and her chest was soaked with blood from what looked to be several stab wounds.
I screamed. I screamed in absolute terror. I screamed in confusion. I screamed and the police banging on my door kicked it in with their guns drawn. But my mind only barely registered them. I screamed as they pulled the knife out of my fingers and put handcuffs on my wrists. I didn’t know what had happened. I had no memory of this dead woman on my floor. I couldn’t remember ever seeing her before, speaking to her, inviting her into my apartment, or stabbing her multiple times.
When I finally stopped screaming, my throat was raw and my voice was
Chapter 4
We continued like that for the next three days. After the debacle caused by my inattention to the time of day, I was sure to be back inside the apartment before the sun set every night. And at some time during the night, Stefan would appear within my apartment. The vampire couldn’t be troubled to knock on the door and wait for me to allow him entrance. No, he thought it was more like a game. Using his amazing stealth, the sneaky bastard would just suddenly be inside my apartment. Of course, I think surprising the crap out of me also amused him.
It wasn’t all about sex either — not to say that the sex wasn’t wonderful as well. A couple nights we talked for hours. He looked over the drawings I had done during the day and made comments on the architecture or the clothing the people during that particular time period. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him exactly how old he was, but I just couldn’t get the words out. There was a large part of me that didn’t want to know, that was terrified of the answer. With very few exceptions, I could easily forget that he was a vampire. He acted like a regular guy. Well, sort of. His speech was still a little different and he had this “lord of the manor” stiffness to him at times, particularly when he was insulted, which only made me do it on purpose at times because it was so damn funny.
I guess that was why it was so easy to blame the routine for our relaxed state of mind.
Five days after first meeting Stefan, there was a knock at my apartment door a couple hours after sunset. I knew it wasn’t Stefan, because the vampire didn’t believe he was required to knock on my door like some unknown supplicant — his words. He’d also warned me that it was unlikely that he’d be stopping by for a couple nights because some important dignitaries were in town and he had to deal with them. After dropping that interesting bomb, he quickly left and I was stuck dying to know what the hell he did because I’d forgotten yet again to pry details out of him.
I opened the door, expecting one of my neighbors looking to borrow some butter or sugar or whatever it was that neighbors borrowed at eight o’clock at night. And then... nothing.
Someone was pounding on the door. I blinked and gave my head a hard shake, shoving my way through the mental fog toward full consciousness and the dull pain that throbbed in the back of my skull. Turning my head toward the knocking, I was surprised to find that I was across the room, kneeling on the floor. But that didn’t make sense. The last thing I remembered was answering the door. How in the world could I have gotten across the room?
I made fists with my hands as I prepared to push to my feet to answer the door when I realized that my hands were wet and sticky. I looked down to discover they were covered in blood and a gore-encrusted knife was clenched in my left hand. This was all wrong. Panic rushed through me, causing my breath to jump from me in short little pants. Where was all this blood coming from? I wasn’t hurt. It couldn’t be my blood.
My gaze followed the trail of blood on the hardwood floor to the body of the woman lying just a few feet from me. Her eyes stared blindly up at the ceiling and her chest was soaked with blood from what looked to be several stab wounds.
I screamed. I screamed in absolute terror. I screamed in confusion. I screamed and the police banging on my door kicked it in with their guns drawn. But my mind only barely registered them. I screamed as they pulled the knife out of my fingers and put handcuffs on my wrists. I didn’t know what had happened. I had no memory of this dead woman on my floor. I couldn’t remember ever seeing her before, speaking to her, inviting her into my apartment, or stabbing her multiple times.
When I finally stopped screaming, my throat was raw and my voice was
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