11

He was close behind her. And faster. She had to run for all she was worth. Her breath quickened as her lungs demanded more oxygen.
Scouting the area ahead of her, she made a split-second decision and sprinted into the street to her right. A desperate glance over her shoulder confirmed that the brute was still chasing her.
Scanning the street, she spotted several residences on the other side. All of them were dark, except for one. It seemed oddly familiar, with light shining through the windows in the front room. For some reason she felt drawn to it, but now wasn’t the time to think. This was her chance, probably her only one. Not slowing down for even a second, she crossed the narrow street, ran up the few steps and hammered at the door.
“Help! Help me!” she yelled.
Frantically, she looked behind her while her fists continued pounding into the door. Her pursuer was less than half a block away and closing in, his face angry. He wasn’t even running, just walking purposefully towards her. Isabella didn’t want to know what his mission was. If he reached her, he would unleash his anger on her, and there was nowhere else to run.
————
Who the hell was banging on his door? Samson thought angrily. Probably his friends again. How the hell did they know that he was back?
Samson was in no mood to talk to anyone, and for some reason, he was his mood was even worse now. It had something to do with the cute bartender and Jacob Saunders who just had to ruin everything. Hell, he didn’t even get her name. There had been something there…. Between them. He wasn’t sure what it was, but it was almost as if she had been flirting with him. Not that he had a problem with that. He was definitely interested too, and it had been a while since he had genuinely felt that kind of interest with any woman. She was human, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t have some fun with her…. That’s if he could, he thought, remembering the problem he had the last time he tried to hook up with a woman.
Samson shook the embarrassing thought away. After she left, he simply got into his car and drove home and now even in his own home he couldn’t get some Damm peace of mind.
He would have to teach his friends some manners, he thought. Samson realized it was raining cats and dogs outside, but it didn’t give them the right to damage his door. They’d be sorry in a second. He was in a foul mood as it was, and announcing themselves like barbarians did not endear them to him. He yanked the door open.
“Fuck off!” he growled.
A small figure with dripping wet hair and soaked clothes tumbled into his arms.
“Help me, please!” The female voice had an urgency to it he couldn’t ignore.
Instinctively he pulled her in and slammed the door shut again.
“Thank you.” The quiet mumble was almost inaudible, but laced with genuine relief.
She lifted her head and looked up at him. Big green eyes, long thick lashes, luscious red lips. Her white blouse was soaked, and she could have won any wet T-shirt contest hands down. Not that he’d ever witnessed one. Her black-lace bra featured her breasts prominently.
It was her, Samson realized suddenly. The bartender!
From the look in her eyes, it was obvious that she recognized him too. What  the hell was she doing here? He thought as his gaze wandered all over her body. Unless…. She had followed him home. He smiled inwardly. He knew this little human had been interested. He wasn’t wrong after all.
The last time his friends had surprised him with a stripper, Officer Nasty had tried a strip search on him, leaving him entirely unaffected. Not even the tease of a little bondage had gotten his cock to wake from its deathlike sleep. But this one, there was something about her that….
Never mind, he would at least just play along for a few minutes, see if anything moved. Without getting his hopes up, of course. She was very pretty, almost innocent and he liked her tactics.
“What happened?” he asked.
Her scent drifted up to him just as it had in the bar, except this time without the smell of alcohol, and he shook his head, as if to clear it.
“Some guy attacked me.” She stopped to catch her breath. “I have to call the police.”
She shivered and sounded believable. So they met at the bar and when she got attacked, she suddenly found herself at his door? The woman had obviously taken some acting classes. Nice touch.
“Well, why don’t we get you into the warmth first and get rid of your wet clothes.” Samson suggested.
That was surely the script she had in mind. What better reason to take off her clothes than because they were wet? He wouldn’t mind warming her. With his body.
A crease appeared between her eyebrows. “Just a phone call, please. I can get changed at home, thank you.” Her voice was clipped as if irritated.
Ah, so she wanted to play coy. Fine with him. He motioned her into the sitting room where a low fire crackled in the fireplace. She placed herself right in front of it and stretched her hands out toward the warmth. Her wet clothes clung to her body, emphasizing her tantalizing curves. Perfect proportions. Not too skinny, just enough flesh for him to have something to dig into.
At least this time, this was a person who physically appealed to him. It was a start.
“You’ll catch a cold in those wet clothes,” he whispered behind her.
Her shoulders lifted, tension evident. She had obviously not felt him approach. What was wrong with her senses? As he cupped her shoulders with his hands, she shrieked and spun around. He recognized the glare in her eyes as a mixture of anger and fear.
“I have to go.” She said.
Now it was getting interesting. She was playing hard to get. She was good. Maybe she could stir something up for him, just maybe. He enjoyed a good hunt as much as the next vampire. And he hadn’t hunted in a while. Every woman had practically been handed to him on a platter, and as enticing as many of them had been, none had stirred him.