Blood Claim Laura Mykles (best classic novels txt) 📖

Not that Matt could currently read it since another guy's pale arms were wrapped around Daniel's torso. Plus the other guy's long red hair spilled like blood down Daniel's shoulder and over the other guy's arms.

Matt braked, jaw clenching as the two men moved, the one leaning against the trunk of a tree, fairly lifting Daniel in his arms. Daniel's arms hung loosely at his sides, his neck bent far to the side to make room for the guy to nuzzle it.

Perhaps disturbed by the headlights, the stranger lifted his head. Blue eyes glowed at Matt. Matt knew they glowed because he could see the color clearly from twenty feet away. The redhead smiled, which drew attention to the sharp white teeth—surrounded by the blood oozing from the corners of his mouth.

Blood. Red. Blood. Blood on the guy's mouth, blood oozing down Daniel's neck and into the back of his silly blue T-shirt.

The stranger slowly unwound one arm from around Daniel's back and reached for Matt. Daniel's body—for it had to be pretty much a corpse by now—sagged over his other arm.

"Come to me,” the vampire said.

Matt jerked awake, eyes wide and immediately scanning the room around him as he sat up. Cheery sunlight seeped through the crack between the thick, opaque curtains obscuring the window over the dresser, the lit floor lamp showing off the paisley-ish pattern on them. The open bedroom door revealed no one in the living room; the open bathroom door showed that the bathroom was also empty. He sat and listened hard, but heard nothing except the normal sounds of birds and passing cars outside. He slumped back against the headboard, bringing his knees up so he could rest his elbows on them. The rumpled sheets were wet from the cold sweat that sheened his bare skin.

"God.” He hadn't had the dream in a while. Not so much a dream as a memory. A memory of the night he'd lost the man he loved, the last friend he'd had. The night he'd learned that reality was not all that it seemed. For a moment, he had to comb his hands through his hair and concentrate on breathing over the gripping lump in his chest. Tears burned his tightly shut eyes.

The familiar pain of the memory didn't last as long as it used to. Back after it had first happened, the fear and pang of loss wouldn't release him for hours or even days on end. He'd holed up in his apartment—their apartment—helpless to release himself from cold terror and agonizing loneliness. He'd lost his part-time job, stopped going to school, and wouldn't talk to the few friends he had. What could he tell them, after all?

Taking a deep, sighing breath, Matt raised his head, letting his long, lank brown hair fall about his head and shoulders as he withdrew his fingers. Swallowing tears, he scooted out of the bed and padded naked across the carpet to the low table in the corner of the room. Kneeling on the pillow that sat before it, he reached for the box of matches that lay nearest him and extracted one to light it. Blinking as tears dried up rather than drenching his cheeks, he lit the four fat candles that sat before a simple urn and a framed picture of him and Daniel.

This little makeshift altar was all he had and all he had been able to do to pay homage to his lover. Daniel's cremated remains had been given to him. He'd tried, halfheartedly, to contact Daniel's parents, to return Daniel to them, but he'd never heard back from them. In the weeks after the incident, the police visited him twice, once the next day to tell him that Daniel had been found dead. Daniel had been one of four people who had been assaulted and left to bleed to death. They questioned where Matt had been, and he answered that he'd left the party without Daniel because he couldn't find him. Part of him had wanted to tell them about the vampire, but he decided not to. A psychiatric ward had not been appealing to him. He had fully expected them to accuse him of Daniel's death. Wasn't that always what happened in the movies? But other than one follow-up visit a week later to find out how he was doing and if he'd remembered anything else, the police had never shown again.

Matt sat back on his heels, staring at the candlelight reflecting in the stainless steel of Daniel's simple urn. Unbidden, further memory of the night of Daniel's death overcame him.

Hardly thinking, Matt slammed into gear and off the road. His trusty Jeep tore across a grassy area and onto another dark, winding road. Matt wasn't sure how he did it without overturning the Jeep, but he drove as fast as he could out of the park. He didn't stop, running a bunch of red lights, until he reached his parking space in the side lot of his building.

Part of him felt guilty for leaving Daniel behind. But most of him knew that it was far too late. Daniel was dead. There was nothing he could do for him.

Matt made it to the apartment, bolted the door behind him, and turned on every light in the place before sinking to the floor, back pressed into the corner of the bedroom, eyes focused on the front door through the open bedroom door.

The knock came maybe ten minutes later.

"Open the door, beautiful,” called the voice. The same voice. Shit! How had the monster found him? Daniel's wallet? Daniel's memories? How many of the vampire legends were true?

"Open the door."

Matt wracked his brain. Wood! He needed a wooden stake. What the hell did they have that was wood?

"Open the door.” The voice was sweet. Compelling. Soothing. It made Matt hesitate, made him want to comply.

But he resisted, cherishing the cold, hard reality of fear. He kept in his mind the painful image of Daniel's corpse in that monster's