Forbidden Touch (3 page)

His father was nonexistent. He'd left her the second he found out Mitch was on his way into the world. Mitch could never be such a coward. He didn't think he wanted any children. What kind of father could he be anyway? His job took up most of his time. But if it ever did happen, he knew he wouldn't be able to abandon his child. He'd never wanted to know anything about his father. If the guy had not cared enough for him, then he certainly didn't deserve to be cared about. His mom had never remarried, but it wouldn't have bothered Mitch in the least if she had found someone to spend her life with. He just wanted her to be happy. She had never let on that she hadn't been. She'd always worn a smile on her face, around him anyway. And she had been taken away from him years before he was ready to let her go.

He shook his head at the memory of his mother and grabbed another slice of pizza from the box. He kicked back in his recliner and flipped on the TV. The screen was blank. Shit, he'd forgotten to pay the bill, and they had gladly shut the damn cable off for him. How nice. He debated whether to have them turn it back on or just leave it off. He was never there to watch it anyway. He hit the power button and tossed the remote on the couch.

Maybe he should have gone to the bar.

He polished off three more slices, then put the box with the remaining three pieces in the fridge. Pizza was great for breakfast.

He looked to the window in his living room as he closed the refrigerator door. He hadn't heard anything, but he felt like there was someone watching him. He shook his head and laughed nervously to himself. He was on the third floor of the apartment complex, and he didn't have a balcony. It wasn't possible for someone to be watching him. Nonetheless, he still had that feeling. Must be because he was so tired, he thought, as he made his way back to the bathroom.

He left the door open as he showered. Why close it? The front door was locked, but paranoia crept back in his bones as he shut the spray off and pulled the curtain back. There were no windows in the small bathroom, but he still felt as though someone, or something, was watching him as he looked around the small space. He quickly towel dried off and looked behind the door, then out in the hall. He had the sudden itch in his right hand where he usually held his piece, and was irritated that he'd left it in the holster on the back of the couch.

The place was silent, but he knew there was someone in the apartment with him. Instinct, intuition, whatever; the hairs on the back of his neck were standing at attention. "Hello!" No answer, but why would there be one? Like some burglar or masked murderer was just going to appear and apologize for scaring the hell out of him, then be on their way after butchering him into a million pieces because he was too stupid to bring his gun to the bathroom.

He walked down the hall like he wasn't scared at all, but inside, his nerves were jumping all over the damn place. He made it to the couch and retrieved his Glock 23. He heard a woman giggle softly behind him. He turned and pointed his weapon before his next pounding heartbeat thumped against his ribcage. There was no one there.

After a moment, he lowered the gun and closed his eyes. He was going to throw himself into a heart attack if he wasn't careful. He'd lived there for more than four years, and had never felt like the place was haunted. He was clearly feeling like it was now. Or maybe he was feeling like he was going crazy.

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Chapter 3

She admired the view of Detective Mitch Foley as he walked into his apartment. She'd followed him there like she had many times before. She noticed that she stayed in her invisible form more than her true form.

She was perched on the arm of his couch when he walked through the door. He didn't look up to say hello when he laid his gun holster on the back of the couch, but then again he never had. He didn't know she was there. If she showed him what she really was, she wasn't sure what his reaction would be. When she entered his dreams, he seemed mesmerized by her. It made her feel beautiful to be looked at the way he would gaze at her body and face. By the end of the dream she would chicken out before letting him touch her, and she would reveal to him her true self. She still looked the same, but she covered herself with what she had to drink to stay alive. If he couldn't accept that, then he wouldn't be able to accept her.

Every time he found her repulsive, and she would make him wake before he said something to make her not want to return.

There were many more like her that the fine humans on Earth didn't know about, and that is how it should stay, her kind, unknown. But she was at a crossroads. Another of her kind was murdering people in the city, and Detective Mitch Foley was assigned to the case. He would never catch his killer. That was a fact, and that fact was driving the poor guy insane.

She had shown Mitch, through his dreams, the victims the killer would take so maybe he could protect them before it happened. But after four weeks, Mitch was thinking that he was going crazy instead of using the tool she was providing him with. She wanted to scream at him, or maybe hit him over the head with a blunt object. How obvious did she have to be?

He couldn't sense her, so she didn't mind visiting him like this. She watched as he took off his blue dress shirt. He wore a white t-shirt underneath, and she'd known that even before he'd unbuttoned his dress shirt, because she had watched him put it on that morning. She held her breath, because she knew what he was going to do next, and sure enough the white t-shirt came over his head in one swift motion. She wanted to sigh, but she couldn't allow herself to. She could mask her body to make it invisible, but she couldn't take sound away. She had been careless a few times in the last month and breathed or sighed. The first time she had seen him undress, she'd knocked his shaving gel off the vanity in his bathroom. She didn't mean to, but the damn thing was in the way as she was turning around to give him privacy. Luckily, he'd thought he had done it when he took his pants off. He'd picked it up without even looking around.

She didn't give him much privacy now. No one, including him, could see how she admired him, so what was it hurting for her to look? Absolutely nothing.

He went to the refrigerator and opened it. Glancing at a whole lot of nothing, he closed it and picked his cell off the counter. What are we having tonight, Mitch, pizza or Chinese food? She thought to herself. She could hear the voice of the girl at the pizza place clearly, and she rolled her eyes. The man was going to turn into a big slice of pizza as much as he ate the stuff. Sometimes, after he was dead to the world, she would lose the invisibility and eat a few bites of the leftovers he would put in the fridge. She imagined him eating with her, and laughing and talking about the day they'd had together. But they never would do any of those things; her family would disown her if they knew what she was doing. No, it would actually be worse, they would kill her. She was grown, hell, she was three hundred and twenty-seven years old. She could do what she wanted, but she knew the consequences of being so close to a mortal. What to do?

She pushed her fantasies out of her mind and followed him to the bathroom. She watched him grimace and rub his face, then put clear drops in his eyes and squint like they burned. He put his hands on the vanity and lowered his head. What was he thinking? She could slip in his head and look for herself, but she was enjoying the mystery of looking at him and not knowing. She wondered if he was thinking of his dreams, of her, or if he was still troubling himself with the many victims the Rogue was scattering all over the city.

She watched him for the longest, lost in his own thought. He lifted his head and looked in the mirror again. His eyes already looked clearer. He sighed, then she followed him back out of the bathroom and down the short hallway.

The buzzer sounded at the door and she hopped up on the counter and sat Indian-style as Mitch talked to Brad through the speaker, unlocked and opened the door, then walked back to the living room, to find his wallet, no doubt. Brad came in and set the pizza box beside her on the counter. He didn't look at her as she smelled the meat and cheese wafting through the cardboard. She liked pizza, but she wished he would order Mexican more often. She could go get it herself, but it wouldn't be in his apartment for her to sample later that night.

He came back with money and they talked about going to some game on Saturday. She had never thought much about sports, but she thought they were talking about football. There wouldn't be an empty seat near him, maybe none at all. She could go out in the sun as long as she was invisible, but maybe she would visit her family Saturday and let Mitch go to the game alone. Or maybe she could try tracking down the killer again. He always stayed just out of her reach. If she could find him, she would turn him over to the Elders. She wasn't allowed to protect humans. It didn't matter if there was a Rogue vampire slaughtering them all. Humans couldn't know about her kind. And they wouldn't see Mitch as an exception.

If she got caught protecting a human, the punishment would be almost as bad as a Rogue would get. She didn't want to think what they would do if they found out she had been camping out in a mortal's apartment for the last four weeks. Invisible or not, it wouldn't matter to them.

So this was the only way, through his dreams, and even that would get her into a lot of trouble.

She watched as Brad walked out and closed the door, then Mitch as he securely locked it. If he only knew that there was a vampire locked in here with him. She shook her head. He would bust through the locked door, screaming.

He inhaled the first piece of pizza as he always did. He appeared to be lost in thought. He seemed almost sad, but just before she probed his brain to find out exactly what it was he was thinking, he shook his head, grabbed another piece of pizza and then went to the recliner to sit down.

She moved back to the arm of the couch and watched him as he got annoyed that the TV wouldn't work. She had to cover her mouth to stifle a laugh as he threw the remote past her. He only brooded for a minute before getting up and grabbing more pizza. He washed the fifth piece down with a glass of water then shoved the pizza box in the fridge.

He closed the fridge door and rose up quickly. He was looking at her. She stayed very still, even though she knew he couldn't possibly see her. She made sure not to breathe at all, which wasn't a problem for her; she didn't have to breathe to live. Breathing was natural, so she did most of the time. He shook his head and laughed. She smiled and put her hand over her racing heart.

He walked back to the bathroom and reached for the button on his slacks. Her heart started to race faster, because she knew what he was about to do. She felt like a peeping tom, well… okay, if you think about it, she was doing this for all the right reasons. Why couldn't she enjoy her task? The Elders had sent her to find the Rogue, subdue him, and turn him over to them. She was trying to do that, sort of.

He kicked out of his slacks and pulled his black socks off. He was completely nude standing before her now, and she yearned to reach out and touch that wonderful body of his. He was about six-one or six-two. He wasn't over muscular, but every one of his muscles was clearly defined. Her eyes roamed down, but she barely caught a glimpse of his sex before he turned and stepped into the shower.

She cursed silently. She shouldn't have spent so much time looking at that gorgeous upper body of his. Her eyebrows went up as she appreciated the view of his backside, then he pulled the curtain closed.

She sighed lightly, then just sat on the toilet seat. He was actually one of the few men she knew who put it down after they were done using it. Maybe his mother trained him well.

It wasn't long before she heard the shower cut off, then the curtain was pulled back quickly. He had that same look on his face that he'd had when she thought he had seen her earlier. He moved only his eyes and scanned the small room, then grabbed a towel, quickly dried and wrapped it around his waist. He stepped out of the shower and looked behind the door. When there was clearly nothing there, he peeked out in the hall.

"Hello!" she heard him shout, and she wanted so bad to respond. He walked toward the living room. She followed and saw that he'd grabbed his gun.
Like he could hurt her with a bullet, or twenty for that matter.
She couldn't stop it; the giggle escaped her lips before she knew it was going to happen. He turned on her. She stood stark still as he pointed the gun between her eyes.

At first she thought he was going to pull the trigger, but then he lowered it to his side and closed his eyes. It wouldn't kill her, but it would hurt like hell, and she wouldn't be able to keep the invisibility in place. Her heart was beating so fast she was surprised he couldn't hear it.