Dracula's Secret:
Then sheer vehicular lust overwhelmed everything. The black Shelby Mustang crouched on the pavement like a rare predator. This sweet machine was the pinnacle of all muscle cars, the most legendary of engines combined with perfect design.
And he was about to get in it. There was no way he was going back to work just yet.
“She’s a ’67?” He touched respectful fingers to the glossy black paint over the hood. The white Le Mans stripes decorating the hood shimmered in the outdoor lights of the motel.
“’66.” The smooth skin around her eyes crinkled, giving her a mischievous air. She was planning something. With a sly smile, she said, “You want to drive her?”
“You would let me behind your wheel?” He slapped his hand over his heart and staggered, feigning a heart attack
A creaky, unpracticed laugh escaped from the vampire. What a beautiful noise.
She pulled out keys, complete with a battered leather Mustang fob, and dangled them in front of him. They chimed like church bells in the dark. Her smirk revealed still-extended, wickedly delicious fangs.
His mouth watered at the thought of those 350 vintage horses under his fingers waiting for his command. A vague memory from his youth told him the Shelby could go from zero to sixty in 4.5 seconds. This was every car-crazy boy’s fantasy, hot babe included, right here in front of him.
“No need to ask me twice.” He snatched the jingling keys from her hand. Their eyes met.
Watchfulness swam in those dark depths. She was testing him. His awareness slid up a notch. The wrong move from him and she’d take that gorgeous car and disappear from his life.
That would suck.
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