Chapter 1: Not That Kinda Girl

It was a dark and stormy night. A chilly breeze whistled through the elm trees lining the sidewalk, brown leaves littering the ground like crumpled heaps of clothes. The streetlights shone lonely columns of light on the damp pavement, and shadows of garbage cans crept along the ground and up the walls of dilapidated one-bedroom apartments. A heavy silence hung in the air, turning the street's criminal murmur into mere background noise. By day, this area of town and its frequenters masqueraded as the unemployed, apathetic underdogs that the affluent city, just 5 miles away, had cast aside. But by night, it was as close as you could get to hell itself.

Cate bit into a Snickers bar as she turned into an empty alley. She was supposed to be on a diet, but to hell with it.

"You only live once," she declared to no one in particular, and I'm sick of eating salads day in and day out, she grumbled inwardly as an afterthought. She was also sick of all the goddamn triceps exercises she was busting her ass trying to do. The treadmill was not her friend, nor was inner thigh exercises.

Cate sighed, and conceded for what seemed like the 100th time that she would never have that small triangle of space at the junction of her thighs. She would probably also never be free of that fleshy, un-toned part of her hips. She was reminded of every girl's fantasy - strong, masculine hands skimming lightly over flat abs, fingers probing the space between slim legs…

She snorted. Good thing I'm living in the most dismal, god-forsaken, beach-less part of town, because I would not be caughtdeadprancing around in a bikini anytime soon. With that thought, she resolutely took a large bite out of the Snickers.

Cate licked her fingers and pulled a peanut out of the sticky caramel base. Funny how things work out. You'd think that the place with the highest crime rate would need people like me even more. But I guess with half the bodies decomposing at the bottom of the ocean and the rest mangled beyond recognition, what we really need is an amendment to the fricking Constitution – take the guns away and send the crazies to Gitmo.

As she pondered the feasibility of that idea, a gust of cold air sailed past. Cate shivered involuntarily and shifted the purse on her shoulders. She had never walked back this late, and it was starting to give her the creeps. You know the feeling. You can't shake it off after you watch Friday the 13th and have to get someone to accompany you to the bathroom because you're absolutely positive that Jason Voorhees is hiding behind your shower curtain, wielding a machete and—

Suddenly, the wind was literally knocked out of her and she was slammed against the alley wall. Her head hit the concrete with a sickening thud and sent her reeling. She struggled to keep it upright, and dark spots dotted her vision. She groaned, and felt her dinner lurch halfway back up her throat.

Cate became aware of the hands holding her upper arms in a painful grip, and tried twisting and kicking to escape. Her captor only chuckled in response, a deep sound that would have been sexy if he wasn't about to KILL her. She steeled herself. This motherfucker is going to pay when I get my hands on him—

He leaned in, his lips dancing lightly around the shell of her ear and his hair brushing her cheek.

"Hello, little one," he whispered in a marvelously deep voice.

Cate jerked her head away and let out a panicked, strangled sound from her constricted throat. "Get your hands off me, you sick freak!"But no sooner had she opened her mouth to scream than his hand had covered it. Her eyes widened, and their eyes locked for the briefest of seconds. She saw nothing but thinly veiled amusement.

"Mmm…kitty's got claws." The corner of his lips turned upwards, and his eyes drifted to her jaw. He dropped butterfly kisses along the edge. "Feisty." He breathed into the kisses, taking his time as he began travelling down her exposed neck, sucking softly at the base of her throat. "I like that."

Cate's senses were thrown in overload; a million thoughts were running through her head. What would Di say? When had she last told her parents that she loved them? Would he torture before her before he killed her? Where was her Snickers bar? How were her parents going to pay for her funeral ceremony?

She bit his hand and inwardly cheered herself on. Take that, you son of a bitch. Like it now? She figuratively rubbed her hands together and cackled, ready to knee him in the balls and then run like hell.

He quickly withdrew his hand but clamped it down on her wrist instead. "Stop thinking so much, beautiful. It's giving me a headache."

She gasped, stunned into silence. How did he just….did he just…no. Impossible. Must have said it out loud by accident.

"You didn't, sweetheart."


"Now, now. Language, doll." She could hear his grin as he bent his head again to lightly nip her earlobe. "We'll save that kind of dirty talk for the bedroom." He ran his tongue along the soft tissue, letting out a satisfied sigh.

Cate finally found her voice, but it came out broken, and she resented the obvious fear that laced it. "Enough with the pet names and innuendo shit already! What do you want from me?" She ground out. Her arms were starting to ache, and as if on cue his seemed to loosen his grip a fraction. She shifted uncomfortably. Escape was futile.

"You want my wallet? Take it! You'll find that your efforts were sorely wasted."

"It's not your wallet I want."

"Well then what the hell is it? Are you a rapist, thief, or just a demented weirdo? Make up your goddamn mind already!" She tried to push off the wall and grunted in frustration when she didn't budge.

"I want you." And that's when he abruptly stopped his ministrations, looked Cate straight in the eyes, and smiled.

She looked back, gaping like a fish. Was this guy for real? She would've laughed in his face, had it not been for the looming threat of death. His eyes were unsettling, and she averted her gaze. Which was when she noticed the teeth.

"Are you a vampire?"

I am officially out of my mind.

But she never expected him to nod slowly, his smile morphing into a knowing smirk. Pah. She rolled her eyes. What does he think I'm going to do, fall at his feet and willingly be whisked off to some castle to be his sex slave?

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but don't vampires usually go for breathy 16-year-olds with warped rape fantasies, smarmy exes and/or abusive fathers to beat up, sex appeal, the ability to completely forget that they actually have lives, the notion that sex precedes true love, some essence of unrivaled purity that emanates from the very pores of their skin…I have more."

It was his turn to look confused.

"Uh…you mean…" He knitted his eyebrows. "You're not 16?"

"Do I look like I'm 16, pedo?"

Finally, I'm getting through to this whack job. Cate almost allowed herself to feel bad for him – he had probably snuck out of the mental hospital and forgot to take his meds, turning him into a crazy, delusional vampire-wannabe. I can relate. Not really.

He reached up to scratch the back of his neck in seeming contemplation and bewilderment. Cate seized the opportunity.

She broke free and sprinted on an adrenaline high – probably the most proper cardio I've done in months, she thought with the giddiness that comes with having the upper hand. She only stopped to look back when she was a good 100 meters away. She saw his tall, broad-shouldered frame standing very still.

Cate pumped her fist in the air and simultaneously gave him the finger. But she made the mistake of blinking, and in that split second, he disappeared. Her nostrils flared.

"You owe me another Snickers bar!" She screamed at the man, wherever he was now.


Okay, so I revamped this one slightly, and I'm planning on taking the following chapters in a slightly different direction. Hope you guys like it. (:

Be sure to leave a review!