Twenty years have passed since the death of my beloved Nathan. Twenty years of raising our daughter single-handedly, only to see him again reflected in her porcelain face. I thought for sure my time for love had come and gone. But a recent trip to P...
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Having been forced to spend the day in a hotel wasn't exactly high on my list these days. But with sunlight creeping up over the horizon any minute now, my hands were tied. The Four Seasons hotel in Paris provided the perfect hideout for the next twelve hours. Two rooms were paid for in advance one being a decoy and the other a private master suite on the top floor with breathtaking views and easy rooftop access. I kept my sword close at hand as I followed Nathan across the main lobby to the line of elevators around the next corner.
Pressing the button for the upper floors, I stood with my back against the wall while getting a lot of nervous looks from the other guests as they stared at my sword. I paid them no mind and stepped into the small metal box as we went to the twelfth floor. The doors opened with a chime into a small narrow hallway with plush carpet on the floor, colorful yet tasteful wallpaper and a window. A window that overlooks the hotel parking lot. Nathan follows behind me shivering, his clothes drenched to the bone.
I pull out my copy of the keycard and slip it into the electronic reader as the tiny light changes from red to green, permitting us to enter. The room sits in darkness but not for long as I will for the lights to turn on with just a touch of my mind. Walking over to the window, I give the main street below a careful glance over before placing my sword up against the wall next to the bed and shrugging off my trench coat and tossing it over the back of a desk chair that sits in the corner.
"Um. I'm gonna see if I can get myself out of these wet clothes and take a hot shower."
"Go right ahead," I replied, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I'll be here."
Walking into the bathroom, the door closes behind him, but not all the way that I make out a sliver of his movements. He takes off his shirt first then unbuttons the top of his jeans as he pushes them down past his knees. Next comes the socks which he tosses near the door along with the rest of the pile. As the last article of clothing comes off, exposing his bare ass. I am reminded how the old Nathan used to look like naked and how the sight of his naked body pressed up against me in bed used to make me rock hard.
I suppress a groan, my hips rolling slightly. The shower door opens as I hear the water start to run, splashing against the tile floor. I picture this human who claims to be Nathan stepping inside the enclosed space as he applies soap to his body. And that's when my gums start to ache. I run my tongue over the tops of my teeth. The sharp points dragging across the flat surface in an attempt to leave a cut should I press on further. My body needs blood and I intend to get it. Just not from the imposter in the next room.
The shower cuts off and the door opens as a billowing cloud of steam escapes through the crack. When Nathan emerges a few minutes later dressed in a robe. I excuse myself and leave the room. From the moment my foot touches the carpet outside, I take off at a dead run. A door at the end of the hall marked ROOFTOP ACCESS provides a quick getaway to the city streets below. I land hard, my boots barely striking the pavement as I walk away briskly and go in search of my next meal.
