Her Vampire Temptation (Midnight Doms Book 8) Page 10

  “It’s you.”

  He smiles and lifts up his hand, although it’s empty, as if toasting me. Clenches the hand into a fist and loses the smile. Stands up deliberately, staring at me the whole time.

  Suddenly he’s right next to me--he leans closer to me and sniffs, as if he was a dog, scenting something fascinating on the breeze.

  “It’s definitely you.” He giggles.

  I cry out and jump to my feet, rocking the chair and spilling my drink all over my hand, my arm, my clothes. The glass tilts alarmingly, and I feel liquid on my feet, even—-

  I look up again to chart his progress, to ask for help: He’s gone.

  And I’m shaking. I can barely put the glass back onto the table, and the sound of it, clink-clink-clink on the surface, is little gunshots into my brain.

  What the absolute fuck?

  “Are you okay?” Blue is back, a look of concern on her face.

  “I’m so sorry, I spilled.” I gesture, but I can’t stop looking at the spot where the man stood. I get the slightest whiff of garbage and feel like I need to vomit. “I…”

  She steps closer. “Don’t worry about the spill. God, you’re pale. Like you saw a ghost.” Her tone is grim, as if she knows a thing or two about ghosts and being followed.

  “I saw a man…” I bite my lip. “I don’t know. I’m fine.” I glance all around, but he’s definitely gone. I cross my arms over my chest, all of my happy excitement gone. I feel sick and thick, full of dread. My life looms large in my mind, like seeing an approaching car out of control in a rear-view mirror.

  “I’ll bring you another glass. On the house. And have someone wipe this up.” She gives me a sympathetic smile. “And I’ll tell someone about the creep.”

  “Thanks.”

  Before she reaches the bar, she turns to the door, and I see her whisper something to the friendly bouncer.

  I get back onto the chair and take a deep breath.

  This is all wrong. This night was supposed to be another refuge for me. Now it’s turning into a panic. I realize that my plan to come here and find Alain was ill-conceived and stupid. You can’t materialize people when you want them. You can’t make life twist the way you want it to go. All you can do is hang the fuck on and try not to fall out of the roller coaster.

  I drain my new glass of champagne in a long gulp, the liquid bubbling a dull burn at the start of my throat, but the punch of the alcohol doesn’t give me a happy high.

  As I put the glass down, the bouncer is beside me. “Did someone bother you? One of the bartenders told me you were upset.”

  “Well, it was—a weird man.” I shudder.

  “That doesn’t sound good. Who was he?”

  “I don’t know. Some guy I didn’t recognize.”

  “Did he touch you?” His voice is like gravel.

  “No. He just…he just looked at me. And—I think he smelled me.” I shudder again, thinking of those gleaming eyes. “It was gross. And he whispered that it was me. But I don’t know him.”

  “What did he look like?” His voice is surprisingly tense.

  “I don’t know.” I’m frustrated with my own lack of information. “He was dressed in black. Tall. Stocky.” I bite my lip. “Little beady eyes.” I raise my hands. “I know that’s not much, but—he was just creepy. Really horrible little smile.” I hesitate.

  “We don’t tolerate anyone bothering our clients. I’ll take care of this.”

  “But he’s already gone.” I hope.

  “Just wait one second, okay?” He nods at me, then he turns away and mouths something into his headset.

  I almost want to cry with relief that he’s doing something about it. Truthfully, I’m more unsettled now than I’ve been in a long time.

  I wait next to him, tuning things out, until I hear the word “Alain.” It’s like an electric shock down my spine. It’s like Alain is everywhere except in front of me. Is this the same Alain, my Alain? Why does everyone know his name?

  “Did you say Alain?”

  “Isn’t that who you’re here for?” His smile is a little smug. Although still concerned.

  I frown. “Why would you assume that?” A beat. “Yes.” I stick up my chin. “Actually, I was looking for him, yes.”

  “Well, he’s on his way. Wait for him.” It’s an order, and I can tell, but one I don’t mind obeying. Because I feel like Alain is the only one right now—for some odd reason—who can help me feel better.

  He hovers his hand over my shoulder. He doesn’t touch, but the nearness makes me feel warm and comforted, somehow. Like he’s a protector. Like the creepy man can’t get to me now. “And I’ll keep an eye out for any weirdos.”

  And then my world swerves in a new direction because Alain is here.

  Alain

  There she is, my Bri.

  Standing beside Tiberius, she’s anxious and worried. I can see it in her stance and smell it coming off her skin. I’m ready to snarl and toss aside anyone who’s bothered her.

  The worst part is that I think it’s my fault.

  The man who hassled her? It was obviously Karl, from what Tiberius told me.

  But for now, I come up to Bri and take her hands without asking, and she gives them, as if it’s what she wanted to do all along.

  “You’re here.” Her fingers tremble: she wants me. The emotion surges out from her and wraps around me like a hug. She wanted me to come. Just like I wanted to see her again, too.

  “You okay?” I search her face.

  “I am.” She smiles although it’s a bit shaky and doesn’t fill up her face. She’s not, but dammit, I’m going to make sure she gets there.

  “Good.” I don’t let go of her hands. I don’t want to.

  She doesn’t either, and we stand there for a long second, like an old-fashioned couple about to start a dance at a Victorian ball.

  “Come with me.” I step closer. Look into her eyes. Not mind-bending her, just hoping, showing her how much I want her. “I can make you feel better.”

  She doesn’t say, where? She doesn’t hesitate. She just looks up at me and nods. “Okay.” She lets out a breath, a little sigh. “Okay.”

  I put my arm around her shoulder and communicate to Tiberius. “If he comes back, let me know immediately.”

  “Sure thing. I’ve notified Lucius and the others.”

  “How did he get in? Nobody saw him?”

  “Guess not. We’ll look harder, now that we know he’s still around.”

  She follows me to my car.

  I start the engine and check the backup camera out of ‘acting human’ habit, even though my senses can tell me if anything is behind me or in my vicinity. “Tiberius said the man didn’t touch you?” I clench the steering wheel so hard I feel it begin to bow under the pressure, and I ease up. “Didn’t hurt you?”

  “No. But he smelled me.” She shudders.

  Yes, definitely Karl—and clearly, I need to keep a closer eye on Bri from now on. Set up security for her as well as Dr. A.

  My unease is strong, but I push it back because right now I need to focus on helping Bri feel better.

  “He was probably just a random creep.” I make my voice convincing. “But the security team—if he comes back? They’ll take care of him.”

  “All right.” She gives me a tentative smile. “Thanks.”

  “We can salvage this night.” I stop at a red light and look right at her. When our eyes meet, the spark grows hot between us. I sense her worry recede as her attraction to me blooms. “You came to the club for a reason, right?”

  She ducks her head and smiles. Turns pink. “Maybe.”

  “Well, so did I.” I quirk a brow. “And I have a feeling it was the same reason.”

  “Maybe it was.” She smiles more broadly this time.

  “So we shouldn’t let a random asshole ruin our grand plans.”

  She laughs. Then looks at me, her gaze serious. “Are we going to your house?”

  “Would you prefer
to go to yours?” I touch her leg. Relax.

  She sinks into the seat just a bit. “I don’t actually care, as long as I’m with you.” She seems surprised at her bold words, but smiles.

  “And I feel the same way,” I murmur. “One night wasn’t enough, Bri, was it?”

  She makes a little noise. “I suppose it wasn’t.” I can’t read her tone. She’s still melancholy, perhaps because of the encounter tonight or possibly because things between us are getting more complicated than either of us intended.

  But fuck intentions. Right now, I just want to be with her.

  “Rules,” I merge onto the road, “are an interesting thing. Because if you make them, you’re allowed to break them whenever you want.”

  “Come what may,” she says. “Come hell or high water, we can break our rules.” She smiles and shakes her head.

  “The high water wouldn’t be so bad. Didn’t Noah build a pretty good ark?”

  I glance at her, and she laughs. “That he did. Just forgot the unicorns, that sloppy asshole.”

  Now it’s my turn to bark out a chuckle. “Shame.”

  “Now the hell part, that would be more of an issue.” She bites her lip and looks out the window.

  “Sure, but we can deal with that too.”

  “Can we?” She looks over at me, serious. Like she really needs to know.

  “I’ll do my best.” There’s a rough determination in my voice, and she starts. It’s like she knows we’re talking about something else, something deeper than a joke. “And I’m not in the habit of failing.”

  “Sometimes things can’t be controlled.” She tightens her hand into a fist.

  “But on the other hand, often they can.” I reach over and take her fist, and she unfurls it like a rose opening at dawn. I hold her fingers in mine, enjoying the feel of her smooth skin. Her warmth.

  “Hmm.” She’s non-committal. Looks out the window, then over at me. “Why did you really come to the club?” Her tone is plaintive. She needs reassurance.

  “What I said before. I came for you.”

  She flushes, and her lashes flutter. “I came for you, too.” Then she mutters, “Guess I couldn’t control that.”

  “Speaking of control,” I’m determined to get her into a lighter mood, “you want to give it up to me again tonight?” I slide her a glance.

  She flushes and smiles. Yeah, she does.

  “Maybe. We’ll see.” She’s going to make me work for it.

  Luckily, it’s the kind of job I like best.

  Chapter 13

  Bri

  “Wow, this is nice.” I glance around the entryway of his home.

  Understatement. It’s modern, luxurious, with every amenity. Full of art that looks many notches above expensive. I can tell without asking that the carpet is Persian, the statue isn’t a replica, and the closest Monet on the wall probably exchanged hands at Christie’s for over a million. And the location—poised majestically on a huge plot of land right by the mountains, no neighbors in sight. The desert all his.

  A strange look passes over his face, almost frustration. Instead of being pleased with the praise, he looks weary. Does he not like compliments?

  “I feel like I’m about to walk on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. Should I take off my shoes?”

  “I hope you’ll take off more than that,” he murmurs. “In time.” He runs one finger down my cheek. Barely touching, but it sets off all kinds of tingles on my skin. “But first let’s have a drink.”

  He smiles and offers me his hand, a move that’s sweet and strangely intimate. “And for now, if you don’t mind, I prefer the heels on your sexy legs. Like last time.” He looks me up and down, then locks eyes with me. He’s teasing me, testing me: Will I obey him? It’s a command, even if it’s cloaked in a lovely compliment.

  “Then they stay on. And I’d love a drink.” It turns out I will obey.

  My face gets hot, but it’s a warmth of expectation, the rise of impending pleasure getting my blood hot. I want him to get dark and dirty and dominant with me.

  “Good girl.” He bends over and brushes his lips over my neck, in the spot where he bit me last time. He nips softly, and I whimper without meaning to, my legs going weak with desire.

  He laughs. “Come.” He tugs my hand once.

  “Are you going to limit me to one beverage again?” I follow his lead to the kitchen, a vast expanse of granite and stainless steel and a bowl of green apples shining under dozens of twinkling lights. “Like at the club?”

  He lets me go, takes a bottle of wine from a rack and deftly twists a corkscrew. “I don’t think I’ll need to.” He pours, and the red wine glimmers like liquid rubies.

  We drift closer together, our bodies nearly touching as we stand with our goblets. My skin wants to be on his. I crave his hands, his mouth.

  I step closer.

  “That’s right.” He smiles into my eyes. I can feel the heat from his body. I feel like he’s saying “that’s right” not just about his comment but about the way I want to touch him. Is he reading my mind?

  “Oh?” I raise my glass when he does, and the rims touch, letting out the softest chime of crystal on crystal.

  “Mmm.” He sips his wine and smiles. “You’ll not want to waste your time when there are sweeter pleasures to be had.”

  “You’re quite sure of yourself.” I tip up the glass and let the wine touch my tongue. It’s fruity and warm, with undertones of currant and leather. I close my eyes and savor the way the alcohol hits my bloodstream with the indescribable burst of intoxication.

  “Maybe I’m sure of you.” He takes another sip of wine and looks at me.

  “You don’t even know me.” But I’m charmed, infatuated. There’s something about him I just—like. Even if it’s as of yet unwarranted.

  “Let’s remedy that.” He puts down his glass. Takes mine, too, and sets it on the counter beside his. So precisely that the glasses touch. “Let me get to know you.”

  He runs his index finger over my shoulder, down my arm. Rests at my inner wrist, above my pulse. “I think you like that idea.”

  “I might.” In truth, my heart races at his touch. “But I want to talk for a few minutes. Tell me something about yourself.”

  He tilts his head. “I like red wine and fast cars.”

  “I already know that. Tell me something deeper. More important.” I mimic what he did, letting my fingers rest at his clavicle, feeling his body through his crisp dress shirt. Then I run my entire palm down his arm, slowly, feeling the muscles with my fingers as I go. As if I were blind, learning him by touch.

  “Like what?”

  I glance around the kitchen. There’s one object on the counter that doesn’t match the rest of the décor. It’s a plain stone, larger than my fist. Rough. It doesn’t look like a priceless gem or a fossil. “What’s the story with that? There must be something fascinating about it.”

  He tenses up for just a second. “Someone special gave it to me.”

  “Who?”

  “You are chatty for a woman who said one night only and don’t call.” But his voice is soft, open. He puts one hand on my waist. Before I can agree or refute, he continues. “When I was young, my brother and I found that once while exploring. We thought it might be the start of the ruins of an old castle.”

  “Was it?” My tone is light, but suddenly I sense that he’s remembering something melancholy.

  “It was the beginning of something.” He has a faraway look in his eyes. “But not a castle. He—died. Very young.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry.” I touch his hand. “The rock is a memory, then?”

  “Can an inanimate object ever truly be a memory?” He’s not mocking me. It’s like he’s asking the question of the universe. “But I kept it. I always will, I suppose.”

  “I keep things, too.”

  “Do you?” He pulls me closer, just a bit. “Such as?”

  “Well, pictures. Photographs of my parents. They died
last year. I still miss them.”

  “Now I’m sorry.” He touches the back of my head, and I lean into his body, resting myself against his solid form. He’s strong and powerful, and I feel comforted in his arms.

  “Thank you. It’s hard. I…okay, this isn’t what I wanted to talk about.” I wipe my eye, even though there’s no tear. “The pain of losing people never goes away, does it?”

  He shakes his head. “No matter how much time passes.” His voice is somber. “But at least the memories stay.” He touches my face, then lowers his voice. “You tell me something. What were you worried about the night we fucked?”

  I shrug. “You really want to know?”

  “Yes.” He doesn’t look away.

  “Well, okay, then. If you insist.” This is when I usually lose them…might as well get it over with.

  I take a breath. “I have an incurable disease that’s getting worse. It’s called XP. Xeroderma Pigmentosa. Any tiny bit of UV light makes my skin blister and bleed. This past year, I had skin cancer removed three times. That’s the scar you asked about.” I touch my neck.

  He touches it too. “I’m sorry.” His voice is sincere.

  “Yeah.” I stiffen up as he runs his fingers over the length of the incisions.

  “Does it hurt?” He removes his hand.

  “No.” I shake my head. “Not anymore. But I have to cover up completely when I go in the sun, these days. UV shirt and hoodie, full face mask, sunglasses. There’s a plastic face protector I could get. Dr. Su says—well, you’re probably not interested.” I swallow.

  “That’s why you said you’d turn to ash at daybreak.” His face is alert.

  I nod. “Joking makes it easier to bear, sometimes. You have no idea, Alain. How hard it is to avoid the sun at all costs.”

  He smiles, but it looks sad. “It must be difficult.”

  “It’s impossible! It’s like I’m not even human anymore!” My voice goes up, then I catch myself. “Sorry, I’m getting worked up. This is why you shouldn’t have asked. Most men don’t even want to deal with it. It’s hard to date someone who’s on permanent night shift.”