Chapter 9: Wait, I have to work out?

 Ferenc, that is the name of the blonde man who took me in. He is also an aristocratic vampire, and he is allowing me to type my blog on his phone. His name means free, I googled it. The accent still puzzles me, but I have no time to wonder. My break is just ten minutes long, and I need to go back to jogging on the path when it is over. 

Yes, Ferenc believes that I, with my red hair and blue eyes, have the potential to be good-looking, and that we can have plenty of fun in the future. I repeat, a guy who looks like a Calvin Klein model, thinks that we can have sex. I am so excited; I am ready to run any distance.

Anyway, Ferenc is not even mad about the broken-down door. He is fixing it right now. Shirtless, sweaty, and sending me the occasional knowing look. Yes, I am ogling his body. What is there not to ogle? 

Toned back, a six-pack up front. Just the slightest dusting of body hair, well groomed, and lean. What is he seeing in me, I don't know? Maybe he is trying to give me a chance only because I won't die in a couple of years? 

  Well, this became a full urban fantasy romance. I am off. - dragonfly94. 

No, no. This has the potential to be fun. The sexy guy is obviously going to sell the doofos's organs on the black market. He lives in the woods, after all. -killyourself89. 

I choose to ignore killyourself89's words, in favor of getting a good look at Ferenc's butt. It is so well proportioned, that I want to feel it in my hands. I wonder if the thumbs and dick theory is true?

Ferenc has wonderful thumbs. I lick my lips, and check the time on the phone. Then, I log off from the blog, and place the phone on the table next to me. 

After that, I run. Yes, me, Julius Miles, run. I can run now, by the way. Yes, my fat deposits jiggle merely with every step, but with my new and improved vampire strength, I can run longer distances. The deal is as follows. I am to run until Ferenc calls me back to him. It doesn't matter how sweaty I am. 

A noise pulls me out of my inner monologuing. I spot a fox in the bush. We stare at each other, and then the fox slowly turns around, and tries to run. I go after it.

 Ferenc doesn't supply me with blood, and I am thirsty. I get it. He wants someone that can stand on his own two feet. I chase the fox, jump over bushes, and then fall into a net. 

Dangling over spikes is not fun. The net groans with the effort of trying to keep me in the air. I don't dare to move. Is hunting even allowed in these parts? The fox looks at me from the ground, and then does something that sounds suspiciously like a laughing sound. The red beast runs off, and I lose all hope of eating anything else but the occasional rat I manage to catch with the crackers I have been carrying since Sofia. 

I stay in the net for a while, and then decide to risk it. I move, so the net can swing to the side, and then repeat the action a couple of times. The branch the net is tied to give out, and I fall to the ground. 

Rubbing my behind, I look at the pit with the spikes. I don't know if the myth about wooden spikes is the truth, but I don't want to see if it is, either. With my nose sniffling the air, I find Ferenc's scent, and lump towards him. Surely, he would understand that I can't run until I heal? If not, then I will at least hear his lovely laughter. 

Ferenc is no longer fixing the door. He is now chopping wood. I stare at him for a while, and he looks back at me. 

"I chased a fox, and fell from a net," I explain after a couple of minutes of silence, and I hear his laughter. He brushes off a couple of tears from his eyes, and points at the table, where his phone is. Just where I left it. 

"I have to teach you how to hunt," he tells me, as I sit on the chair. My butt protests, so I stand up, and decide to remain standing for a while. 

"If it won't be a bother," I tell him, and he shakes his head. 

"No bother, kiscica," he tells me, and I tilt my head to the side. Quickly, I take his phone and google the word. It means small kitten. I blush then, as he goes back to chopping wood for the fireplace.  

Aw, your first pet name? Let me ask you something, doofos, are you a virgin? - killyourself89.

I gulp. This is very personal, killyourself89. I will not answer. I see the three dots and know that killyourself89 is typing, but then I log out of the blog, and give my full attention to the vampire who is chopping wood. His muscles strain with every movement. Now that I am looking, his arms are muscular, but not to the point that he looks like he is a bodybuilder. 

If I take a picture of him right now, to prove his existence to the readers, would he be mad? I clear my throat. 

"Ferenc, can I take a picture of you?" I ask him, and he laughs. 

"You can try, but no camera can capture the image of a vampire," he tells me, and I fumble with his phone, until I have it pointed at me. I snap a picture of myself. 

I am not on the picture. There is the wonderful forest scenery to be seen, but no trace of me. Not even my clothes. I bite my lower lip. How am I going to prove anything now?