Syphons - There's No Denying Their Existence

Chapter 1: A Delicious Specimen

The scent of cinnamon wafted under my nose as sleep faded away. I stirred, and stiff leather groaned beneath me. When I twisted to get more comfortable, I tumbled off the piece of furniture, and greeted the hardwood floors beneath with my rump.

"I wasn't expecting you to be up so soon," a masculine voice said from behind. I tossed a glance over my shoulders.

Staring down at me, a pair of dark eyes that belonged to a total and complete stranger. The delicious specimen towered over me at about 6'2". He wore a white tee that stretched across broad chest and shoulders. His skin glistened like moon-drenched marble chiseled by careful hands, like a statue of a mythological Greek hero. My eyes followed his athletic physique past the massive fold of biceps towards his baggy jeans, which hung off his hips in just the right way.

At that moment, I realized I'd been staring too long, our eyes met again. And, this time, he seemed to be focusing on me. Those dark eyes lightened with amusement, but I wasn't sure at first why, until I'd noticed the buttons on my blouse had all but revealed the lacy black bra and my chest to him. I quickly tended to the wardrobe malfunction, flushed with a mixture of confusion and humiliation.

"Who are you?" I asked while adjusting myself, and I followed up with a quick, "where am I?"

Before he could respond, my fingers brushed against dampness along one of my buttons. Blood glistened on my fingertips.

"How much do you remember?" he asked.

"It's rude to answer a question with a question," I said coldly.

I tried to pinpoint where this blood came from. Did he have something to do with it?

"Let me check out your injuries." The stranger knelt down to my level and outstretched his hand and attempted to touch me.

"Hands to yourself, answer my questions first, then you can touch me," I said and slapped his hand aside.

"Look, there's no reason for you to fight me. I'm just going to check on your wound," he said. "My name's AJ by the way, and I don't bite."

"And I don't know anything about you, AJ. Does it stand for anything?"

"Alexander Jacques Ward," he said. "I prefer AJ."

A throbbing ache raced down the side of my face, reaching my jaw. I grasped the side of my head and felt the fabric of a cotton gauze bandage laying across my right ear and cheek.

"Are you going to let me check out your wound or not?" AJ moved closer and a familiar smoky scent of cinnamon seemed to ooze from his pores and wrap me in a fleece sweater of warmth. I shouldn't trust him but my body had other plans and seemed all for letting him touch me.

"Fine, but you'll tell me where I am."

AJ started fussing with the bandage stuck on the side of my face. The ache pulsated stronger along my cheek as the wound became exposed to air. I winced and sucked in air quickly through my teeth. His assault on the bandage more delicate.

"We're in my condo in downtown Tampa. About ten minutes away from the Skyline Lounge where I found you. Before you start panicking," he said. "I didn't take you straight to the hospital after the incident. It was easier for me to just bring you back here. It's better than the alternative, waking up surrounded by questioning doctors and authorities."

I said nothing.

He continued, "I'm going to assume you don't remember much from last night?"

I worked through my memories. Starting with the moment when I left work and ending in blurred surroundings at the Skyline Lounge among unfamiliar faces.