She’d hoped last night had been a bad dream, but that she wasn’t at home and the marks were on her wrists and ankles proved her otherwise. She felt her neck. The scabs were still there, sore at the touch.
Vampires?
She would’ve been perfectly happy to go her whole life not knowing they were real. How did you un-know something like that?
She placed her bare feet on the wooden floor. At least someone had taken those godawful shoes off of her. Then she stopped.
She knew who had taken her shoes off.
Just like she knew whose bed this was.
Her heart sped. Calm down, Catherine. Just because he’s the hottest thing you’ve ever gotten this close to, and he happened to come to your rescue, and you’re in his bed…
Actually, wait—she didn’t even know his name. She knew his scent, and blue eyes. He’d acted like he knew about the vampires, like he would have believed her when she told him what had happened. Only she hadn’t had a chance to tell him at all, because she’d passed out instead.
“Well done, Catherine,” she said to herself…
Darcy Branwyn 
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