Fangs But No Fangs (13 page)

He frowned, confused as to why he would still notice such things. Plenty of blood hummed in his veins. He should be back to himself. The self that wouldn't be distracted by a mortal's appearance.

She put another CD in the player, then exited the booth. She moved carefully around him so her body made no contact with his. So they were back to this, he thought, disappointed by her distance. Although he should be glad. After all, he didn't want her upset because she thought he was interested in a romance. That would be awkward.

He followed her behind the bar, and she whirled around when she realized that he was there. "What are you doing?"

"Helping you."

"What? Why?"

"Because you need the help."

She glanced around at the practically deserted room, then raised an arced brow. "I think I can handle the rush."

He had to admit the bar's patronage tonight was a far cry from last night, but she did need the help.

"You need someone here, if for no other reason than security."

She bristled at that, coming to her full height, which brought her level with his nose. She grabbed his wrist and pulled him down the length of the bar to the far end where the other patrons couldn't easily hear them.

"I can handle things here just fine. I've been taking care of myself for a long time."

He didn't doubt that— although he did wonder how she'd made it as long as she had unharmed. She had this desire to trust people. The need was there, warm and gentle, in her dark eyes.

"But you do seem to have a number of shady men showing up on a regular basis," he pointed out, ignoring the fact that he might fit that description, too.

She narrowed her eyes. "Only two, and I could have handled them if you hadn't been here."

He hoped so. He hated to think of what might have happened with either man, if he hadn't been there.

He nodded but crossed his arms over his chest. He wasn't leaving.

"Plus I do have Jed here every night." She gestured to the elderly man. Jed leaned on the bar, his chin propped on his hand, and he appeared to be dozing. A cigarette still dangled from his lips.

"I don't think Jed's going to be much help unless the troublemaker gets close enough to him for Jed to burn the guy with his cigarette."

She gave Christian a disapproving scowl, but then stepped over to pluck the burning cigarette from the old man's mouth.

Jed jumped, and Jolee crushed out the end in the ashtray.

"You need to be careful with those," she warned.

Jed grunted, taking a sip of his beer as if nothing had happened.

She came back to Christian, the stern yet caring look she'd used on Jed replaced by a determined frown. "You are not working here. First of all, I can't afford to pay you."

"I don't need money," Christian stated easily.

"And secondly, I know about your problem."

Christian froze. She knew his problem? That he was a vampire? Impossible. He hadn't lost complete control during his bouts of attraction to her. She couldn't have seen anything.

"What problem?" he asked.

"You look much better today," she said quietly, "but I know you're using drugs. I can't have an addict working for me."

Drugs? An addict? He wasn't an add—

Well, if she'd seen him last night, she'd sure think he had some sort of addiction as he slinked through the hospital in search of the blood bank. He'd definitely looked like someone who needed a fix. Especially when his shape-shifting ability had failed him, and he changed from shadow into solid form with a bag of B negative hanging out of his mouth. He shouldn't have attempted using his powers in his weakened state.

Fortunately the janitor who'd spotted him had his own drinking problem. He'd just groped in his pocket for his flask, taken a swig, and hurried on. But if that wasn't risking all to feed an addiction, then he didn't know what was. But he wasn't the type of addict she suspected. Of course, blood addiction wasn't generally anyone's first guess.

"I don't use drugs. I never have." Okay, there was an incident in an opium den in China, but that was more than 150 years ago, so that really didn't count now.

She regarded him closely, skepticism still narrowing her eyes. "So why did you look so pale and shaky last night?"

"I hadn't eaten."

Her unconvinced expression stated that she thought that was a lame excuse. Ah, but ironically the truth.

"So you were just hungry?"

Just hungry didn't quite do justice to preternatural hunger, but it was going to have to do.

"I'm— " He struggled to find the right term. "Hypoglycemic." Thank you, St. Elsewhere.

"A sudden drop in blood sugar makes you that pale and disoriented?"

Why did he have the feeling she wanted to use a more descriptive word than disoriented? Deranged, perhaps.

"Yes," he said. Drop in blood sugar, drop in blood. Close enough.

Jolee considered Christian's explanation. She also studied him closer. Tonight, he looked wonderful. His skin tone was golden and healthy. His pale eyes were clear and alert, no signs of disorientation. And of course, there was his perfect physique. Right now, he certainly didn't look like a drug user.

And now that she thought about it, even when Vance had gotten a fix and he wasn't in the throes of withdrawal like the other night, he still appeared pale and spacey. He certainly didn't look like a Greek god.

She wasn't sure how hypoglycemia affected people, but she did know the disease caused a decrease in blood sugar. She could believe that a rapid drop could affect a person quickly and violently. That was how Christian's strange spell had come on. Suddenly. The rest of the time he seemed fine.

She gave him a weak smile. "Sorry."

He shrugged as if being accused of drug addiction was an everyday occurrence, and not remotely insulting.

"So can I get to work now, boss?" He asked, giving her one of his adorable, quirky smiles.

"Christian, I can't pay you."

"And I told you I don't need money."

"Then why are you here?"

He reached for a mug, pulled the tap and poured a perfect glass of beer. "Because I'm just a natural. Who knew bartending was my calling?"

He placed the perfect beer in front of Jed. Then he came back to her, his expression so endearing, it was hard to even recall her point.

She refocused. "Not here, here. Why are you in Shady Fork? You obviously do have money. I can tell by your speech that you're well-educated. Why a trailer park? Why Leo's Brew Pub and Karaoke Saloon?"

His smile faded. He didn't say anything for a moment, his eyes almost looking regretful. "I'm here because I needed to isolate myself for a while."

Isolate? What did that mean? She frowned, and he must have seen her puzzlement.

"I have a lot of things to sort out," he explained. "And I had to get away from my world. But by no means will anything from my world affect your life."

She nodded, even though she still didn't understand.

"I need something to do. And I like it here." He glanced around. "Although I'm not sure why."

Instead of being offended, Jolee laughed at his bewildered expression.

"It just grows on you, I guess."

He stared at her for a moment, his poker face back. "It does."

She wasn't sure, but he didn't seem to be referring just to her bar. She was probably just being hopeful. Now that he wasn't a drug addict, or at least he claimed he wasn't a drug addict, did she think she could have a relationship with him?

No. He was still running from something, and even though he said it would never affect her, he certainly didn't sound like Shady Fork was going to be his permanent residence. He could leave at any time. Not a good choice for a relationship.

"So am I hired?"

She hesitated.

Then the man from the table in the corner approached the bar. He placed a piece of paper on the scarred wood, sliding it toward her.

The paper had a sequence of numbers and the title of a song. She stared at it for a moment before she realized he was requesting a song to sing.

"You want to sing?" she asked, unable to keep the surprise from her tone.

He nodded, then turned to go back to his table.

"See," Christian said, "you need me to tend the bar. You need to run the karaoke."

Jolee picked up the paper, then smiled, realizing his help was indeed the perfect solution.

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Yes."

Despite the soreness Jolee must still be feeling from the accident, she practically skipped up to the booth. She called the man who'd brought her the paper up to the microphone.

The slim man in a baggy T-shirt and denim shorts walked up to the mic, his movements stilted. Tube socks made his thin legs look even skinnier, the white material pulled all the way up, his bony knees just visible above the tops. He stared out at the room, his face impassive as he was waiting for Jolee to put on the correct song. The first notes of a song Christian vaguely remembered from years ago began to play. Then the title appeared on the monitor. "Hitching a Ride" by Vanity Fair.

The fact that this man would choose something so bouncy surprised Christian. Then the man began to sing, the perky, pleasant voice he recalled from the original replaced by hoarse, voice-cracking shouts like those of a fanatical punk singer.

Christian actually stepped back, blinking. What the hell?

He glanced at Jolee, expecting to see amazed horror on her face, too. Instead she watched the crazed performance with a giant smile.

Christian grimaced, his gaze returning to the man, who now waved a leg around and twitched in some sort of convulsive dance. And still, he screamed in a guttural rasp that even made Christian's throat feel raw. Yet, in some way, the strange performance was sort of entertaining. Christian found himself smiling, and even clapping when the song was over.

The man then calmly replaced the microphone in the stand and walked back to his seat as if the shouting and twitching had never occurred. He sat down and took a sip of his beer.

Christian shook his head. Mortals were just too weird.

"Wasn't he great?" Jolee grinned as she came up to him to fill a glass with water. Obviously the man's performance had her throat feeling scratchy, too.

"He was something," he said, more interested in the twinkle in her coffee brown eyes and the huge grin on her lips.

Damn, she was pretty.

He paused, wondering again why he was aware of her. He shouldn't be, but then the observation was hardly a major concern. She was pretty— as far as mortals went.

"Jolee," the man in the green baseball hat at the end of the bar called. "I'd like to sing one."

"Sure, Dale." She grinned back at Christian as though the man's request was some great success. Then she touched his arm, her small, work-roughened fingers like heated velvet on his skin.

He stepped back from her, shocked at the intense longing that surged through him from the simple touch. He breathed in deeply, trying to dispel the fierce need building within him, but that only made him more aware of her warm, spiced scent. This reaction should not— could not— be happening. He'd fed, and fed well. He should feel calm, not filled with… desire. Did he not feed enough?

She noticed his reaction and her smile disappeared. "Do you need something to eat?"

He frowned, wondering how she guessed his thoughts. Then she turned and leaned down to rifle through her tote bag. His gaze dropped to the curve of her ass cupped by her faded jeans. His fingers twitched as he imagined cupping his hands there, too. She straightened up and spun back to him. His eyes snapped up guiltily to meet hers.

"Here you go." At first, still dazed by his lascivious thoughts, he didn't see that she was offering him something, and when he did, it took him a second to recognize what the item was in her hand. An apple?

She shook the fruit at him. "Take it. I don't want you getting sick."

He accepted the apple, feeling a strange combination of lust and tenderness. Only Jolee would want to feed him when he was considering grabbing her ass. Of course, the throbbing erection in his pants was imploring for even more than a grab.

"Are you all right?"

He nodded, still baffled by his reaction to her.

"You're sure?"

No. But he nodded again.

"Eat that," she ordered as she headed down the length of the bar to talk to Dale.

He stared at her, then glanced down at the apple. If only that would help his situation.

"She's making you crazy, isn't she?"

Christian glanced over at Jed, who sported another of his shrewd grins. How could a man who had nearly ignited himself with a cigarette be so perceptive? Although while Jolee was making him crazy, it wasn't in the way Jed thought.

He looked back to her. She was talking to Dale, her face animated, her eyes flashing with excitement. Then she exited from behind the bar. Christian watched the sway of her slightly flared hips. Again his cock jumped. His fangs, however, didn't react at all.

He frowned.

This just didn't happen. His lust was only tied to his hunger. One did not happen without the other. His cock pulsed again, just like the times before that. As if to say, yes, it did.

"Here's our very own Dale, singing 'Country Roads. " Christian turned his attention Jolee, who was smiling in Dale's direction as he took the microphone. Dale began to sing a song Christian didn't recognize, but the older man had a surprisingly melodic voice. Jolee beamed across the bar at Christian, obviously impressed by the man's talent. But all Christian could focus on was his reaction to her. To that smile, and hair, and pale skin.

Damn it. He wanted to have sex with Jolee.