Free Damon by Vanessa Hawkes Page A

grown curious, and had realized I’d have to give up on the idea of a father, forever. It only hurt a little bit anymore. “Not even a first name. Her memory is really warped. By the time they noticed she was pregnant, she’d forgotten the event. But she used to go out to bars.”
    “I don’t know which is worse,” he said.
    “How do you mean?”
    He imitated me, sliding down in the chair to lean his head back. “My dad’s mind is so fried he doesn’t know where he is. No sense of reality. He’s gone for good.”
    I realized then why Damon was so comfortable around my mother. He’d grown up the same way I had. Except, thankfully, my mother had never killed anyone. That I knew of. Not that she hadn’t tried a couple of times.
    “That’s pretty weird, don’t you think?” I said. “That our grandparents were such good friends and then your dad and my mom both ended up with the same rare condition?”
    That still bothered me and I hadn’t been able to get any answers out of Chester and Bella. I thought maybe Damon had a clue.
    “Try your wine,” he said instead. “It’s special.”
    I took a sip before I thought to wait and see what he meant by ‘special.’ I’d been warned time and again not to drink anything I didn’t open myself. Though, we weren’t in a bar, or at a party, and I didn’t think Damon would try to drug me since he was already getting what he wanted. Unless he wanted something I couldn’t yet imagine.
    The wine was sweet, fruity, with some underlying flavor I couldn’t identify, but liked. “It’s good. Why is it special?”
    “It’s elderberry wine. Granddad made it. I brought it from home.”
    I took another sip and decided the wine was okay. “Where is home?”
    “Nashville.”
    “You have a house there or something?”
    “I did. Granddad’s place. I sold it.”
    So that explained his fancy car and ready cash. I should have wondered about that sooner, but I never seemed to focus on normal things.
    He lifted my hand and planted a firm kiss on the scar on my wrist, then traced it with his tongue, all the while keeping his eyes on me. I liked when he did things like that. Behaved in an abnormal way. I liked that he didn’t bother questioning me about my scar.
    “I asked Chester about the picture.”
    He stilled for a moment with his tongue on my wrist, then sat back, but kept hold of my hand. “And?”
    “They’d just been to a funeral. My grandparents had a son who died. A baby. That’s why they all look so weird. Grief.”
    He sighed and sat back. After a moment, he let go of my hand. “That’s not why.”
    “Why then?”
    He downed his wine and poured himself some more. Even though I’d only drunk a little of mine, he refilled my glass right to the rim. I had to take a healthy drink to keep from spilling it. A rush immediately went to my head.
    “They’re vampires,” he said.
    I almost dropped my glass, and barely managed to set it on the porch. I had to fight back a laugh. “Who? Chester and Bella? My grandmother?”
    He nodded, staring straight ahead. “And you and me. All of us. Half vampire, half werewolf.”
    “So, we’re vampwolves?”
    He grinned, nodding. “Funny.”
    I chuckled. “Or Werepires? I like that better.”
    His smile fell. “We are alien vampires.”
    I couldn’t think what to say. I had my moments of weird, no doubt about it, but I wasn’t weird enough to believe in vampires. Or vampwolves. Whatever. “What about sunlight? Why can we all walk in the sunlight?”
    He shifted his foot and almost knocked over my glass. I leaned over and picked it up again. “Real vampires aren’t sensitive to sunlight. That was made up by Hollywood.”
    I knew that. Or, I’d heard it somewhere. “So, what are real vampires?”
    “I don’t know,” he said. “I know they like blood. I know you like blood. Haven’t you ever wondered why?”
    Again, I almost dropped my glass. He couldn’t possibly know that. Unless he’d seen me almost drink