Station House Six: Chapter Nine

My father’s blood, like the blood of all vampires, contained memories. In this case, those memories were ones I wished I didn’t have to see. But my anger at Jonah Swift brought them to the surface more sharply than any other, and in turn, sent me spiraling into my own recollections as the ritual continued around me.

Station House Six: Chapter Eight

The room we ended up in was furnished in a classroom theme. I rolled my eyes, but the other rooms were occupied. Raimes—Tobias, locked the door behind us. He gave me a smile that set my skin tingling.

“This—this is a bad idea.”

He shook his head. “You think too much. I think it must be because you don’t talk enough.” He grabbed me by the shoulders and gave me another kiss that promised a myriad of carnal delights.

Fuck it.

Station House Six: Chapter Seven

“You cut your hair.”

“Yes I did.” I didn’t touch it like a self-conscious teenager either, go me.

“It looks nice.”
“You can thank Marcel Grateau.”

“Was he in the bathroom with you?”

I sighed, but it wasn’t as though most men were up on their famous hairdressers. “No, he taught me.”

“Oh. I ordered food, it should be here in fifteen minutes or so.” Raimes checked his watch.

I looked around the room, feeling as though something was wrong. “Did you clean?”
“Yes.”