Oliver's Hunger
Page 57
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That thought made him want to pull over at the side of the road and throw up. He forced the bile back down. No, he wouldn’t be weak like that. He would resist—for her sake, and for his own. It left him with two choices: continue to feed off the less fortunate inhabitants of this city, or get used to bottled blood. Neither option sounded pleasing, when Ursula’s blood provided the ultimate temptation.
After making love to her in the back of his van, he couldn’t imagine anything better than to repeat it and this time sink his fangs into her lovely neck, making the connection even more intense than it had already been.
A fleeting thought tried to tempt him even further. Hadn’t Ursula said that the reason why she wasn’t allowed any sex was because her captors believed it would lessen the drugging effect of her blood? It seemed like a ludicrous suggestion, and he could only imagine that those vampires were sadists and took pleasure in seeing these women suffer, denying them any kind of pleasure for the hell of it. Following this idea that there could be a way of safely drinking Ursula’s blood only made the temptation worse. This was only his addict-self talking, reaching for any straw, however thin, that presented itself. He couldn’t allow himself to listen to it any longer—he had to shut it off or the “what-if” scenarios would drive him insane.
Oliver swallowed away the desire that coursed through him and concentrated on his next task.
Paul Corbin, the owner of the wallet Ursula had stolen, lived in a single family home in North Beach. The address pointed to him being wealthy, or at least well off, considering that single family homes in this sunny Italian neighborhood of San Francisco started at about two million dollars—for a fixer-upper.
Oliver parked the car in the driveway, blocking it, not just because there was never any available parking in the neighborhood, but also to prevent the man from escaping. Not that he had any suspicion that he would. After all, Oliver was only here to return the wallet and ask him what he knew about the blood brothel.
He got out of the car and locked it, then walked up to the entrance door of the impressive house. It appeared to have been fully renovated only a short while earlier. No expense had been spared, if he considered that the entrance steps were tiled with travertine and the entrance door was made of solid steel. He imagined the materials in the interior to be just as classy.
Oliver pressed the door bell and heard the pleasant chime from inside the house. A light came on over his head and he raised his eyes to it, noticing a camera that pointed at him. It appeared that Corbin preferred to know in advance who stood outside his door before he opened it.
Oliver let a casual smile play around his lips, wanting to appear non-threatening. He had no intention of scaring the other vampire off. He didn’t have to wait long until he heard steps approaching the door. Then a lock was flipped and the door opened.
The tall man was a vampire, and according to the picture Oliver had seen on his driver’s license, he was Paul Corbin himself. Somehow, he’d expected him to have a servant who would open the door for him. In a grand house like this, servants wouldn’t have been out of place.
“Yes?” Corbin asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Mr. Corbin, it appears you lost your wallet,” Oliver started, watching the man’s reaction. “I’m happy to say that I’ve found it.”
Surprised, he opened the door wider, allowing Oliver more of a glimpse inside. It was dark, but he could make out a hallway with doors to each side, then a large double door at the very end.
“You’re here to return my wallet? I had already written it off as a complete loss,” Corbin admitted.
Oliver smiled, pulling the wallet from his jacket pocket. He noticed an instant stiffening of the other vampire’s shoulders, until he handed him the item.
“How can I thank you, Mr. . . uh . . . ?” Corbin asked politely and at the same time very stiffly.
Oliver shifted onto the other foot. “Oliver Parker,” he lied. “Actually, I was wondering, whether I may ask you a couple of questions in relation to where I found the wallet.”
The man’s face remained impassive when he answered, “And where, Mr. Parker, did you find it?”
Oliver turned his head, looking around and noticed a man walking his dog. “I’d rather not talk about it out in the open.” He motioned to the person with the pet. “Our kind has to be careful.”
“Of course. How thoughtless of me. Please come in.”
As he walked into the house, Oliver wondered how old the other vampire was. He appeared very old fashioned and stiff.
After making love to her in the back of his van, he couldn’t imagine anything better than to repeat it and this time sink his fangs into her lovely neck, making the connection even more intense than it had already been.
A fleeting thought tried to tempt him even further. Hadn’t Ursula said that the reason why she wasn’t allowed any sex was because her captors believed it would lessen the drugging effect of her blood? It seemed like a ludicrous suggestion, and he could only imagine that those vampires were sadists and took pleasure in seeing these women suffer, denying them any kind of pleasure for the hell of it. Following this idea that there could be a way of safely drinking Ursula’s blood only made the temptation worse. This was only his addict-self talking, reaching for any straw, however thin, that presented itself. He couldn’t allow himself to listen to it any longer—he had to shut it off or the “what-if” scenarios would drive him insane.
Oliver swallowed away the desire that coursed through him and concentrated on his next task.
Paul Corbin, the owner of the wallet Ursula had stolen, lived in a single family home in North Beach. The address pointed to him being wealthy, or at least well off, considering that single family homes in this sunny Italian neighborhood of San Francisco started at about two million dollars—for a fixer-upper.
Oliver parked the car in the driveway, blocking it, not just because there was never any available parking in the neighborhood, but also to prevent the man from escaping. Not that he had any suspicion that he would. After all, Oliver was only here to return the wallet and ask him what he knew about the blood brothel.
He got out of the car and locked it, then walked up to the entrance door of the impressive house. It appeared to have been fully renovated only a short while earlier. No expense had been spared, if he considered that the entrance steps were tiled with travertine and the entrance door was made of solid steel. He imagined the materials in the interior to be just as classy.
Oliver pressed the door bell and heard the pleasant chime from inside the house. A light came on over his head and he raised his eyes to it, noticing a camera that pointed at him. It appeared that Corbin preferred to know in advance who stood outside his door before he opened it.
Oliver let a casual smile play around his lips, wanting to appear non-threatening. He had no intention of scaring the other vampire off. He didn’t have to wait long until he heard steps approaching the door. Then a lock was flipped and the door opened.
The tall man was a vampire, and according to the picture Oliver had seen on his driver’s license, he was Paul Corbin himself. Somehow, he’d expected him to have a servant who would open the door for him. In a grand house like this, servants wouldn’t have been out of place.
“Yes?” Corbin asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Mr. Corbin, it appears you lost your wallet,” Oliver started, watching the man’s reaction. “I’m happy to say that I’ve found it.”
Surprised, he opened the door wider, allowing Oliver more of a glimpse inside. It was dark, but he could make out a hallway with doors to each side, then a large double door at the very end.
“You’re here to return my wallet? I had already written it off as a complete loss,” Corbin admitted.
Oliver smiled, pulling the wallet from his jacket pocket. He noticed an instant stiffening of the other vampire’s shoulders, until he handed him the item.
“How can I thank you, Mr. . . uh . . . ?” Corbin asked politely and at the same time very stiffly.
Oliver shifted onto the other foot. “Oliver Parker,” he lied. “Actually, I was wondering, whether I may ask you a couple of questions in relation to where I found the wallet.”
The man’s face remained impassive when he answered, “And where, Mr. Parker, did you find it?”
Oliver turned his head, looking around and noticed a man walking his dog. “I’d rather not talk about it out in the open.” He motioned to the person with the pet. “Our kind has to be careful.”
“Of course. How thoughtless of me. Please come in.”
As he walked into the house, Oliver wondered how old the other vampire was. He appeared very old fashioned and stiff.
