Fangs But No Fangs (2 page)

"Maybe I should call the police?" Christian suggested.

The kid flashed the knife, sneering.

Christian raised an unimpressed eyebrow. He now saw the knife was actually a pocketknife. A large one, but not as menacing as he'd originally thought. Still, well-aimed, the blade could do real damage.

"Maybe you should just go back in your trailer and mind your own damned business," the kid warned, waving the knife again.

"I don't think I want to do that." Although in truth, that was exactly what Christian wanted to do. Instead he leisurely approached the armed youth.

Surprise and confusion played over the kid's face. He lifted the knife higher. Christian continued to stroll forward.

The kid actually backed up, unfortunately in the direction of Christian's neighbor.

Christian stopped. "You need to go now."

He concentrated, trying to use his mind control. The kid blinked and looked even more disoriented, if that was possible. Then he lifted the knife, waving it again in Christian's direction.

"Damn it, dude, don't you get it? This is none of your fuckin' business."

Christian stopped concentrating. Apparently his "being human" plan had been more effective than he'd thought, especially if he couldn't control someone this mentally feeble.

"Actually, I think a knife-wielding… " He frowned, trying to decide what to call this guy. Oh, why waffle on the matter? "Imbecile, in my neighborhood, is very much my business. Now, drop the knife." Good Lord, had he just officially named himself the head of the neighborhood watch?

The man wavered, uncertain what to make of Christian. But then he snarled and lunged at him. The pocketknife connected, slicing Christian's forearm as he deflected the strike, which he might add was aimed at his chest. This guy didn't mess around. Christian caught the kid's arm, spinning him and jerking the limb painfully behind his back.

The imbecile swore and dropped the knife. As Christian was about to kick the weapon across the gravel drive, his neighbor appeared out of the bushes and grabbed it.

She stood directly in front of her attacker, glaring at him with dark eyes.

"Vance, I'm not going to call the police. But I swear if I see you again, I will," she said. Her voice had the same accent as Vance's although on her it sounded very different, almost pleasant. She pointed the knife at Vance's chest. "I'm not kidding, Vance. This is the last warning I'm giving you."

Christian raised an eyebrow at that. She had given this jerk other warnings? How many chances had he had before? And was this woman as much of an imbecile as her assailant? The guy was planning to attack her with a knife.

"You bitch," the man muttered almost petulantly. "I need money."

"Then get a job, Vance," she told him, flicking the knife closed and slipping it in the pocket of her jeans.

"Dude, my arm is going to pop out of the socket," Vance complained to Christian, trying to look over his shoulder at him.

Christian couldn't resist tugging his arm up just a tad higher. The kid cried out and swore again.

"Let him go," Cherry told Christian.

"I don't think so. You might not be calling the police, but I plan to." These two had interrupted his… blogging. Someone was going to pay for that. Not to mention, they'd gotten him involved. And he had been damned successful at not getting involved with anyone.

"No," Cherry said, her dark eyes pleading.

Why on earth would she beg to help this idiot?

Her attention returned to Vance. "Vance, you have got to get help. I mean it. You are going to end up right back in prison again."

"Just give me some money, then."

"No, Vance. No."

The kid actually kicked the ground like a cranky child. "All right," he finally muttered.

"And don't you dare come back here unless you are clean," she added.

The kid mumbled something under his breath, then nodded.

Cherry stared at him for a moment, then looked to Christian. "Please let him go."

Even though it was against his better judgment, Christian released the kid. Vance shook out his arm, rotating the shoulder, and then like a rabbit released from a trap, he ran down the road toward the highway. Well, more like an inebriated rabbit. A few seconds later, Christian heard an engine start and wheels squealing on tar.

"Thank you," Cherry said, and smiled a little sheepishly. "I appreciate your help."

Christian nodded, still not certain what had actually happened here. "Right. Well… " What did humans say in bizarre circumstances like this? "Good night, then."

He had turned to head back to the normal security of his trailer when her hand caught his. He startled at the contact, her fingers small and very warm curled around his.

"Oh my God, you're hurt."

He frowned. Her touch had surprised him, but it didn't hurt. Then he noticed she was staring at his arm. He glanced down and saw a large patch of blood had soaked through the sleeve of his shirt.

"Oh. That." He shrugged. "It's nothing."

He started to leave again, but she didn't release his fingers. Instead she tugged him in the opposite direction.

"Come inside and let me look at it."

Refusal was right there on his lips. Then he looked at her wide smile, and for some unknown reason, like why he came to her aid in the first place, he allowed her to lead him into her trailer.

The layout of the trailer mimicked his own. Except his was actually homier, if that was possible. She led him into the kitchen to the sink.

"Stay right here," she ordered, then disappeared down the hallway. Christian glanced around the room. No wonder she was roaming around the countryside at night. She didn't exactly have a welcoming home to relax in. The kitchen was devoid of all furniture and the living room only had three metal folding chairs arranged around a beaten-up steamer trunk.

And Vance had come to this woman looking for money? That was very optimistic of him.

"Okay," she said as she returned with a rather threadbare but clean-looking towel. "Let's take a look at this cut."

He watched as she set the towel on the counter and reached for the buttons on the cuff of his sleeve. She tsked. "Too bad. This looks like an expensive shirt."

It was, but he didn't say anything. Instead he watched her slender, pale fingers work on the buttons. He frowned. Why did he find the simple action so fascinating?

"I don't know," she said, studying the large amount of blood already drying to the blond hair on his forearm. "Maybe we should go right to the doctor. It's bled a lot."

"No," he said, starting to pull his arm away, but she caught his hand, those slim fingers curling around his.

"Okay," she agreed, "but let me clean it for you. It's the least I can do after you helping me."

He didn't agree, but he didn't pull away. She took the towel and wet one corner with warm water. Carefully, she brushed the cloth over his arm in gentle sweeps.

"Does that hurt?"

He shook his head. No, it didn't hurt in the least. In fact, it was oddly pleasurable. The pressure of her warm fingers on his skin. Her nearness. Not until she looked up at him, a questioning look in her eyes, did he realize she hadn't seen his response.

"No, it doesn't hurt," he said, his voice low.

She stared at him for a moment, then returned to her ministrations. This time, Christian didn't watch what she was doing. He studied her. In the brief glimpses he'd seen of her before, he'd never taken note of her looks. But now, close up, he saw she was a very attractive mortal with dark red hair, almost wine-colored, like a strong merlot. Her features were fragile and pale like fine bone china, with high cheekbones, a straight nose, and the most lush mouth he'd ever seen, deep pink, plump and wide. He wondered how lips like that would feel under his.

He jerked back, disturbed by the direction of his thoughts. He hadn't even considered kissing a mortal in nearly two hundred years.

She immediately stopped cleaning his arm and stared up at him with wide eyes, brown flecked with gold. "Did I hurt you?"

He shook his head, his eyes again dropping to her full lips. He breathed in deeply. "No."

She hadn't hurt him, but something about this woman was addling his brain. What the hell was he thinking finding her attractive? He didn't find mortals attractive. Ever.

She regarded him closely, and he wondered for a moment if he was vamping out in some way. Had his irises widened, making his eyes totally black? Or had his skin pulled taut over his bones? Was a fang hanging out of the corner of his mouth?

Not that she looked frightened. She actually looked… concerned?

He was, too. His reactions were not normal.

She dabbed at his arm again, her touch even gentler. Little raspy caresses of the towel, which felt… nice. Yes, he was definitely acting, or rather reacting, strangely.

He took in another deep breath to steady himself. A rich, spicy scent like warm honey and cinnamon filled his nostrils. Her scent. His body reacted, his muscles tensing, his fingers twitching. And his cock hardened, both tense and twitching in his pants. What the hell?

"Are you sure this doesn't hurt?" she asked again.

He started to shake his head, but then he remembered he actually had to speak, since she was looking at his arm rather than his face.

"No."

"I'm almost done."

Thank God. He breathed in again, and her luscious scent assailed him, stronger and more tempting than before.

Were his vampy powers coming back? He'd truly believed he had them under control, practically ineffectual. But his acute sense of smell was working fine. Although the scent he smelled wasn't the rusty, salty scent of blood. The heat and spices were just her.

But what caught him more off guard than her scent was his reaction to it. He was aroused. And he'd never been aroused by a mortal unless it was caused by the hunger.

He ran his tongue over his canines. They were normal. The rock-hard erection in his trousers was not. He always had simultaneous erections. Fangs, cock. Fangs, cock. That was just how it worked. So what the hell was going on?

"There," she said, shifting away from him. "All clean."

He immediately stepped back, hoping distance would calm him. This was just too strange.

Jolee frowned. Her neighbor was a strange guy. Not that she was surprised. She'd noticed him before. After all, it was pretty darn hard to ignore a hunky model type with designer clothes and a car that cost ten times her yearly income, and that was if she was lucky, living across from her in a rundown trailer park. There was definitely a story there. She'd even invented one or two of her own.

But until tonight, she'd never considered talking to him for two very good reasons. One, he had to be trouble. Again, guys like this one did not live in Shady Fork Mobile Estates, unless they were in deep doo-doo. And number two, she was too smart and too busy to get involved with trouble. Even on a non-romantic basis. She'd had enough of that in her life, thank you very much.

But tonight had really added a new twist to her two-point plan. He'd rescued her. She could have protected herself from Vance if she'd had to. Although it had been really nice not to have to. To have someone stick up for her.

She simply hadn't expected help. She knew full well that people often ignored others in trouble. Like she'd planned to ignore her neighbor. But he hadn't ignored her.

Of course, she had been screaming on her front lawn at three in the morning. But then, no one else had come to her aid. And this guy had even gotten hurt protecting her. If he wasn't already sexy as hell that would have definitely added to his appeal. It was rather nice to have a hero around.

"I don't think you are mortally wounded," she said. When his brows drew together in confusion, she pointed to his arm. "Your arm. It bled a lot, but the cut was actually quite small."

"Oh." He glanced down at his bloodstained sleeve as if just remembering the wound. "Yeah, it's fine."

He nodded as if he didn't have any idea what else to say, which apparently he didn't. He started toward the door.

"Can I get you something to eat?" she blurted out, then winced. It was three in the morning. What were the chances he was hungry? Not that she had much to offer him if he was hungry. The invitation was just the first thing that popped into her mind. The truth was she didn't want him to leave. He was the only company she'd had since she moved here, aside from her knife-wielding brother, and she was lonely. She didn't even realize how much until now.

He hesitated, then instead of answering her question, he asked one of his own. "Was that kid— Vance? Are you together in some way?"

Jolee blinked and then laughed, although there was not much humor in the sound. There wasn't much funny about her family in general.

"No. Definitely not. He's my brother."

He seemed to consider that for a moment, then he nodded. To her surprise, he walked toward her, a leisurely, almost predatory quality to his movements. His unusual, pale blue eyes locked on her.

Her heart pounded violently in her chest as his hand came out and caught a strand of her hair, which had escaped from its ponytail.

"Your hair. I've never seen this color before."

From the corners of her eyes, Jolee watched him rub the curling lock, testing the texture. Her heart threatened to hop right out of her chest as she imagined those long, masculine fingers touching parts of her body that actually had nerve endings.

"The color is a little unusual, I guess," she said. Not as unusual as his eyes, which were such a pale blue they appeared almost white. She pulled in a calming breath, forcing herself to look away from his beautiful face.

"That's why you're named Cherry," he said, almost like a revelation to himself.