The Tiger's Secret Baby by Ava Frost

in bed. I could appreciate the view although I was losing my patience. Any woman naked and in heels can have 5 minutes of my time.
    “What the hell are you talking about woman?”
    “Is this your way of kicking me out so you can bed another woman?”
    The truth about the difference between women and vampire women is there are no differences between them. One is more prone to go crazy faster than the other. The end. You’re welcome.
    “Sheila, lay down. Come here. You’re stressed.” If she wasn’t, I sure was. I had a lot of thinking to do. I needed to consult my inner caveman and we needed to have a discussion as of yesterday.
Where, oh where, has my mojo gone? Oh where, oh where, can he be?
    She burst into tears. Crying made words altogether incomprehensible but add in fangs and it’s just pointless.
    “Stop this. Stop this right now.” I had had enough and my voice conveyed it. Plus, she wasn’t about to ruin my sheets with her ridiculous tantrum. She stopped crying and bless the ageless vampire beauty, looked stunning save the few drops of blood on her cheek. Vampires cried blood, there weren’t any other fluids in there. “Come here,” I demanded with the added effect of opening my arms to her.
    If I didn’t remember now, I would do a damn good job of reminding myself. Rule number 3, no second dates. I don’t know why I thought this girl was worth breaking rule number two. As she tucked her head on my shoulder and aligned her naked body to mind, I suddenly remembered. She had woken me up with incredible head and she let me do her anal with no complaints. At the time, it seemed worth inviting her back.
    Since I was not ruled to live in fear of the sun, I lay awake as she fell into a death-like sleep. I pondered my rules and the life they governed. Rule 1: There is no such thing as true love. This was a personal belief and a blatant rebellion against everything I am. I am a shape shifter. The animal can only be determined by the blood lineage you belong to. I am of the lion family. My brother and sisters turn into lion and lioness when they meet their true love. Just awful, isn’t it? Fate playing a royally fucked up joke on whoever was on the other side of that love. This is something I know but do not accept. I believe I can control it, whenever it happens. But the “it” in question will not happen as I have turned my back on love. It does not exist. If it did, I would protest it.
    Rule number 2: Bed any woman, they’re all the same. This rule has proven itself true over so many times I have lost count. Pickiness is seen as a luxury of the elite. I disagree, they do themselves a disservice judging books by their covers. Rule number 3: never bed the same woman twice. I have found that this fosters some kind of clinginess that I cannot afford and am not socially adept enough to handle kindly. My sense of chivalry stops at opening doors for women. I sighed heavily. The shit would hit the fan tomorrow. I knew it and if Sheila was smart she wouldn’t act rashly. But she wasn’t smart. She was a woman and sometimes emotions just got in the way.
    I woke to the smell of bacon. One of the greatest smells to wake up to. I groggily threw myself out of the bed and shuffled to the bathroom. There, my reflection was blurry but coming to a lifelike stillness under the fluorescence. Brown hair, standing on ends, but fully and wavy. My lips were a little more round than typical for the average white man and all the better for kissing. Eyes, still as piercing gray as the day before. I inspected myself, from head to toe. This was another routine instilled in me but not willingly. I learned it in the army. Although I let my hair grow out, the army was still very present in the way I folded the covers and sheets down so tightly you could bounce a quarter off it and the anal way I kept my five o’clock shadow down to nothing.
    “Breakfast is ready.” Damn that vampire hearing. I wasn’t ready to face the music yet.