I Only Have Fangs For You (6 page)

Wilhelmina's gaze snapped up to meet his. "What?"

"Your cat? What's its name?"

"Spot," she said without pause, but Sebastian could see more uneasiness in her eyes.

He couldn't tell if her uneasiness was over his question or just over him. Her expression certainly didn't reveal if his sudden suspicions were founded-that she was the one making the calls to law enforcement about his club.

Scratches weren't much of a lead. But then she had also set off the sprinkler, he knew that for a fact. Had that been another attempt to damage his business? Had she brought rats into the club?

He studied her, trying to see or sense something that would either validate or deny his thoughts. He found nothing. Just a small vampiress with the darkest blue eyes and palest skin he'd ever seen. And again, he was struck by the word Nadine used to describe her. Lost. At the moment, she seemed very lost.

Before he thought better of it, he touched her pale cheek.

"Spot? Good name."

She remained perfectly still under his touch. Again, he felt a prickling of fear around her.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked softly, certain that he must have for her to be so scared of him. Even now.

She shook her head, causing his fingers to rub against her smooth skin. Wisps of her black hair, which had escaped one of the messy knots on the top of her head, tickled the back of his fingers.

Sebastian swallowed as overwhelming desire rocketed through him, sudden and intense and as unexpected as a landmine. He frowned, telling himself the need rippling over his skin and tightening his groin was just an inappropriate reaction to stress, just as dragging her through the crowded bar had been.

He told himself that several times, but he couldn't manage to stop touching her. Skin against skin, moving in gentle strokes. He wondered how her pale skin would feel against his body, and what her fingers would feel like touching him in return.

He dropped his hand from her cheek. Just moments before, he'd been seriously considering this woman might be the one who'd placed the anonymous calls. Now, he was thinking about…

No, he wasn't going there again.

Instead he focused on his drink-splattered clothes. The pink liquid had turned the front of his blue shirt an unappealing puce-y color.

"Well, I've only known you for two days, and twice I've ended up soaking wet."

Her gaze moved from his face to his shirt. Then drifted slowly downward to the wet splotch darkening his trousers.

He felt himself react as her gaze lingered. He shifted, and her eyes snapped back up to his, the fear flaring again around them. But there was something else, barely perceptible under the sharp emotion.

"You aren't soaked," she said, her voice a little breathy.

His body reacted to the sexy sound, but he told himself to ignore it. "True, I'm not as soaked as I was with the sprinkler, but now I'm sticky."

Again her gaze dropped to his crotch. Damn. If she couldn't sense he was aroused, she could sure as hell see it. He shifted again, and her eyes returned to her wrist, her fingers touching that same spot.

Despite his better judgment, he reached for her again. She went rigid under his touch, but she didn't pull away. Neither did he. His fingers traced the curve of her jawline, his thumb brushing the corner of her red mouth. He tested the soft curve of her full bottom lip, wondered how her lips would feel against his. Would they be sweet like ripe berries?

More emotions crackled around them, but he couldn't read them. She didn't pull away, but she remained absolutely still, and he couldn't tell if she was enjoying his touch or not. Her emotions were too complicated, too jumbled to read. She wasn't attempting to block them, but there were simply too many of them for any one to be clear. That bothered him. He wanted to know what she was thinking, feeling.

"I-" she said, her eyes meeting his, and he hoped she'd just tell him what was going on behind her inscrutable midnight eyes. Instead, she stepped back, moving out of his reach.

"I have to get back to work," she said her voice cool, distant as if she didn't feel any of the desire he was experiencing. That really bothered him. Nearly as much as the fact that he was feeling desire. Very intense desire.

"Unless I'm fired," she said after a few moments, when he still hadn't said anything.

Sebastian considered her. She'd given him an out. A way to be rid of her. If she was involved in the calls about the club, that would be taken care of. And even if she wasn't involved in the anonymous calls, she was a pretty bad waitress. He'd fired employees who were actually better. And, and at the moment this was the thought that was really troubling him, she would be out of his sight and no longer getting under his skin. Which she was, even though he couldn't figure out why.

If she weren't here, many of his problems would be gone. Just like that.

He opened his mouth to tell her that leaving might be for the best. Then his eyes met her dark blue ones, and he was struck by the pain he saw there. Then the emotion swirled away, disappearing into bottomless depths.

Instead of the «yes» his mind had been telling him to say, his mouth said, "No. No, Wi… Mina." Again his mouth seemed to function without consulting his brain. Somehow, she did remind him of Mina in Dracula. Dark hair, fair skin, innocent, yet determined. Lost yet searching.

"You're not fired."

But the idea of keeping this Mina in Carfax Abbey didn't make him feel particularly relieved.

Wilhelmina unlocked her apartment door, stepping into the small living room. A lamp glowed dimly on the end table by the sofa, but the place was quiet. She paused, not sensing Lizzie.

She walked down the hallway, which branched off the far end of the living room, passing Lizzie's room. The door was open, the room dark. Lizzie was out. Wilhelmina knew she was likely at Dr. Fowler's Institute, where she was setting up her new lab.

A combination of relief and disappointment made her sigh. She didn't want to explain to a very perceptive wolf why she was so shaken. But she didn't relish being alone with her thoughts.

She entered her room. The tiny square space was pitch black. Without turning on the light, she stripped off the tight waitress uniform and pulled on her robe. She secured the belt around her waist as she walked back down the hall to the kitchen.

"Calm down," she muttered to herself as she walked toward the kitchen. She took in a deep breath and blew it out slowly, but the action did nothing to calm her. In truth, she had no idea how she'd managed to make it through the remainder of her shift at the club. Now that she was home, she felt more shaken than back there-where he was.

She walked directly to the refrigerator. On the top shelf, among two half-gallons of juice, two gallons of milk, and several liters of soda, she reached for her blue plastic pitcher. She took a tumbler down from the cupboard and poured herself a drink. A bit of the red, viscous liquid sloshed over the side of her cup, but she didn't reach for a paper towel to clean it up. Instead she took another deep breath and continued chanting to herself, "Calm down. Calm down."

She walked back into the living room and collapsed onto the sofa, pulling her legs up tight to her chest. Holding the glass with both hands, she brought it carefully to her lips.

As soon as the familiar tinny, salty, and bitter flavor filled her mouth, she felt herself relax just a little. She took another swallow and another until a calming warmth thawed the tension in her body, allowing her to relax, just a little. She rested her wrists on her knees, the glass still in her hand, and let her head fall back against the sofa cushions.

She didn't feed enough; that was why she was so agitated. But even as she told herself that, she knew it wasn't true. It wasn't the hunger that had her so overwrought that she couldn't stop the tremors making her limbs quiver like leaves rustled by a night breeze.

It was Sebastian.

She moaned, closing her eyes and trying to block out the memories, the feelings. She didn't want to think about what had happened tonight. But she could think of nothing else.

She'd believed she could handle this. When the Society had decided that Sebastian Young and Carfax Abbey should be placed among the top of their list of vampires who were dangerous to mortals, she'd volunteered to be the plant who would sabotage him. She felt strongly about the way he seduced and used mortals. And she knew she could handle his charms.

Now she wasn't sure of anything. Nothing had gone as she'd imagined or planned. Her sabotage attempts had failed. She never factored in that she would grow to like the employees of the club. And she didn't understand what had happened between her and Sebastian tonight, but she knew she wasn't unaffected.

She took another sip of her drink, then set it on the end table, because her hands were still shaking. Dropping her head onto her knees, curling herself into a tight ball, she tried to force away the sensations still tingling over her skin. She felt out of control and she hated to feel that way. Control was what she'd managed to gain over the years. And she'd never let go of it again.

But neither her mind or her body were listening tonight. Even now, she could feel Sebastian. Feel the sizzle of his touch on her wrist. On the back of her hand. Her cheek. Her lips.

You can't do this, she realized. She had to quit the club. The whole thing was more than she could handle. She hugged her knees tighter to herself and closed her eyes. She had to tell the members of the Society. She could imagine their looks. I-told-you-so looks. Because they hadn't believed she could stop Sebastian from the start. She should have known she couldn't.

Releasing her hold on her legs, she straightened. No. She wasn't going to think this way. Hadn't Dr. Fowler made her realize that she didn't need to cling to the shadows any longer? Made her realize that she could get her life back? She was a vampire now, but she still had her humanity. She had her soul. And she wasn't going to go back to being the scared, hopeless creature she'd been before Dr. Fowler found her. And now she had also the Society of Preternaturals. They were helping empower her too.

She could do it. She just needed a new plan. A plan that was focused solely on the real problem: Sebastian Young. He was the one setting the precedent at Carfax Abbey. He was by far the biggest user of mortals.

"He's the one who needs to be stopped," she said to herself, even as she felt her nerves stretching taut. Her fear building up again. But she ignored it. She had to do this. She had to prove to herself she could.

Sebastian Young's misuse of mortals had to be stopped. And she would be the one to find the way to stop him.

Sebastian poked his head into Mick's office. Mick, his head of security, sat behind his bank of computer screens, his booted feet crossed on the corner of the desk. To others, Mick might have looked too relaxed, too insolent to be a good employee, much less a successful head of security. But Sebastian knew he was the best.

"Have you found anything?"

Mick shook his head. "I've got someone working on the health department's computer system. He should be calling soon with a list of incoming calls on the twenty-fifth."

Sebastian nodded. "And the police?"

"Nothing there. But I haven't given up."

"Good," Sebastian said. "Let me know as soon as you hear anything."

Mick nodded, and turned back to the computer monitors, his features looking starker, more brutal in the bluish light.

Sebastian left the office and headed through the back entrance into the club. The place wasn't crowded yet, but he knew in a few hours the dance floor would be packed. He wondered if the anonymous caller would be there. If he or she was already there.

Even though the past couple of nights had been quiet, he still had the gut feeling that the person targeting his club wasn't finished. Maybe he was being overly cautious, but he'd learned in two hundred years that it was good to follow his instincts. And his instincts were on high alert.

He slipped into one of the booths on the upper level, scanning the main room below. His hunger was strong tonight. Very strong. A side effect of his instincts being on overdrive, that and things kept distracting him from his usual feedings. But given that he could do nothing except wait for Mick's report, he might as well rectify that last problem now.

Who would be his companion for the night? He cast a look around the upper level where he sat. As if by some colossal joke, Mina appeared at the small bar that lined the back wall.

He'd decided that his bizarre attraction to her had been a direct result of lack of feeding and lack of sex. That always made him a little off. Still he'd avoided her for the past two nights. And he got the impression she'd avoided him too.

Tonight, her hair was braided into two pigtails. The hairstyle should have made her look young and childish but combined with her snug black uniform, her pale skin, and her bowed, red lips, she looked more like a very naughty schoolgirl. His eyes roamed down her body. Her curves were gentle and lithe under the black brocade.

He gritted his teeth and forced his gaze to the dance floor. What was he thinking? Physically, she wasn't even close to his type. He liked flashy women with long hair, long legs, and abundant curves. Mina had an unremarkable figure, weird hair, and her legs were…

Against his will, his gaze returned to her. From where she stood he couldn't see her legs. Although he knew from the sprinkler night, they had no flaws. Shapely and smooth and pale. His cock swelled against the denim of his jeans.

Bryce, the upstairs bartender, leaned forward, telling Mina something. From his angle, Sebastian could see only her profile, but he could tell one corner of her rosy lips turn up into a smile as Bryce talked. Sebastian realized he'd never seen Mina smile. A real smile anyway.

Bryce said something else, and Mina laughed. A brief, nearly nonexistent laugh, but Sebastian suddenly found himself leaning forward in an attempt to hear it. He pushed up from his table and strode to the bar, taking a stool next to where she stood.

"Good evening, Bryce," he said. "Mina."

Mina glanced at him, a quick flash of something that looked an awful lot like disdain flickered in her eyes, then she looked back to Bryce.

"Hey, Sebastian," Bryce greeted in his laid-back Southern drawl. The handsome werebear was every inch good ole Southern boy, and he always struck Sebastian as being out of place in the big city. Even though he'd been working here for nearly three years.

Sebastian glanced back to Mina. She looked out of place here too. But unlike Bryce, whose easygoing personality would allow him actually to fit in anywhere, Mina truly didn't belong here.

Again, his instincts niggled him. Again, he wondered why she was here. Could she somehow be involved in the calls to the club? He studied her as she waited for Bryce to make her drink orders. She had shifted down the bar away from him. Her sidling movements had been subtle, but he'd noticed the escape.

He tried to read her emotions, but as usual there were too many and she was too guarded for him to get a clear impression. He found it interesting that someone so reserved could be surrounded by such a whirl of emotions. He wondered what would happen if she loosened up and let them show. The idea excited him.

"Bryce, may I get a scotch?" he asked suddenly, needing a drink to calm his reaction to her. A little booze, a lot of blood, and he'd be thinking far more clearly. And not about Mina.

"Sure thing."

He chuckled at the bartender's words. "I need that too."

Bryce grinned. "Well, I reckon you won't have any problem finding one of those here tonight."

Sebastian sensed rather than saw Mina stiffen at their conversation. He glanced at her.

She looked down at her order pad, her brow furrowed, her lips twisted slightly. He couldn't tell what her expression meant, whether it was disdain or maybe even jealousy.

Disdain, he figured. But either way, she was reacting, and for some perverse reason, Sebastian liked that he was getting some sort of response from her. It amused him to see her bow-shaped lips pucker as if she'd just sunk her fangs into a lemon. For a split second, he'd thought about what those lips would look like puckered for a different reason.

"There was a tall blonde here last night. I'm hoping she'll be back tonight. Legs that could make a grown man grovel," he said, watching Mina's face.

She concentrated on her order pad, and he wasn't even sure she was listening.

"And her ass." He couldn't help adding.

Mina flipped a page of the pad, maybe with more force than necessary, but otherwise she didn't acknowledge him.

Bryce, however, chuckled as he set a scotch in front of him. "Sounds good."

Sebastian studied Mina for a moment longer, wanting to see something other than her usual remoteness. But she continued to fiddle with her order pad.

Sebastian looked back to Bryce, only to find the bartender watching her too. A definite look of interest in the werebear's brown eyes.

A flash of something possessive squeezed Sebastian's chest. He frowned. What difference did it make to him if Mina and Bryce became Carfax Abbey's newest cupid's couple? Maybe a good lay from a wild werebear would loosen Mina up.

But even as he told himself that, his fangs distended, scraping the inside of his lips, agitating him.

What the hell was wrong with him? He'd never, never been interested in a woman, alive or undead, who wasn't interested back. Eternity was too long to work that hard when there were thousands of women in the world, in this city alone, who wanted a good time.

He glanced at Mina as Bryce placed a drink on her tray. She smiled at the bartender. A small smile, definitely a reserved smile, but a smile nonetheless. A real smile. Something she'd never given Sebastian. Another wave of something that felt altogether too close to jealousy washed over him.

Without another word, Sebastian picked up his drink and left the bar, returning to his booth. He was obviously not getting enough female attention if he was feeling irritated by odd little Mina smiling at a coworker. After all, he might find her attractive in some weird way, but he didn't want her. And she didn't want him.

Wilhelmina watched Sebastian's abrupt departure with a mixture of confusion and relief. She'd spent the past two days keeping her distance from him. He unnerved her, and made it difficult to keep focused on her plan. Not that she had a plan. In fact, she'd come up with nothing that could stop his dissolute ways.

She'd considered starting rumors in the club. Things like he was in the mob or he was married, but she didn't think that would discourage women's interest in him. He was too charming, too sensual, and far too beautiful for rumors to stop him. She had her doubts that anything would deter mortal women from being with him.

As if to punctuate her point, a tall blonde, probably the tall blonde, sashayed up to his booth smiling broadly at him. Mina's gaze dropped quickly to her bottom. Yes, she was the woman.

Sebastian grinned up at the blonde, that lopsided smile of his making him look so charismatic, so charming, so harmless.

He gestured for the woman to join him, which she readily did, sliding her long legs under the round table as she scooted closer to him.

"Dang, that man is good," Bryce said from beside Wilhelmina. She turned to see the long-haired, goateed bartender shaking his head with admiration.

Wilhelmina frowned, ready to disagree. He was despicable. But Greta cut her off, setting her tray on the bar. "Who's good?"