Sex and the Single Vampire (7 page)

“Ha!” His eyes darkened from mahogany to ebony at my snort of disbelief. “I’d like to know what else you’d think if you came across a man bleeding to death in the basement of a haunted inn. Which reminds me, just what
were
you doing there?”

“I think they’re arguing about something. Allie doesn’t seem to be too happy about something Christian said.”

“Oh. It looks to me like he’s going to kiss her.”

“All I am at liberty to say is that you quite successfully ruined my plan; you’ll have to be content with that,” he said, looking at me for a moment. His eyes, already black as night, darkened even more; then his mouth touched mine for a brief, brief, way too brief moment before he pulled himself away from me. All of the flames his nearness had started inside my traitorous innards turned into an inferno at his featherlight kiss, which made me more than a little surprised at finding my body whole and complete, if sprawled out in an ungainly manner. Christian rose and offered me his hand.

“See? I was right. He did kiss her.”

I ignored Roxy to frown at Christian. What did he mean, I ruined his plan? What sort of a plan involved him slicing himself up and lying around in a damp basement? And come to think of it, what did he mean by saying I warned him in a convenient manner? Was he implying I was an accomplice to the woman with the gun, and just trying to make myself look innocent?

My frown turned to a red-hot glare as I ignored his hand to get (painfully and with less grace than I would have liked with an audience) to my feet. I heard a couple of familiar gasps of horror, and started searching the ground for my glasses.

“Here,” Roxy said, pushing them into my hands. “They were at Joy’s feet, but she can’t bend down anymore.”

I popped them on. The world retreated to a darkened, familiar place that made me feel protected. Which is surely an odd feeling for someone who was just pushed out of the path of a fired bullet.

Joy, who had been speaking in a low voice to Christian, turned and took my hands in hers. “Are you all right, Allie? Christian didn’t hurt you?”

“I saved her life,” he protested.

“And I saved yours,” I snapped. What sort of a person did he think I was? Clearly the man had some trust issues.

“That is a subject open to debate,” he said as he brushed himself off.

The nonchalant way he treated me rubbed me the wrong way. All I can say is that the combination of pain from my leg, and a smug, arrogant man pushed me beyond what was polite and accepted in such a situation.

I put my hands on my hips and upped the wattage in my glare. “You really are obnoxious, you know that? I can’t think of one other man who wouldn’t be on his knees in gratitude for having someone care enough to save him, but you have to twist it all around and make snide insinuations
instead of being thankful I took the time to save your rotten life.”

“My life would have been entirely safe without your meddling,” Christian said in a low, beautiful tone that I swore I could feel slipping along my skin.

“They’re arguing,” Roxy said to Joy.

“Fine,” I said, poking him in the chest. “The next time someone tries to kill you, I’ll just let them, shall I? Then I can wait until you’re dead and Summon you to make your apologies. And trust me, you’re going to be apologizing for a very long time!”

Christian took a step closer to me, his jaw tight. “You are not at all the type of woman I like. You are aggressive and independent, and you seem to feel it is your right to insult me without cause.”

“They aren’t supposed to be arguing, are they?”

I snapped my fingers and waved away his comments. “As if I care what sort of woman you like. And you’re damn right I’m aggressive and independent, and if the insult fits, wear it.”

“I mean, that’s not right, is it? Them fighting like this? Isn’t it against the rules?”

“I don’t know,” Joy said, her eyes worried. “I thought it would have been impossible, but … maybe we’re mistaken.”

Christian glanced at Joy, snarled something I was sure was rude in what sounded like German, then stalked off. The police rolled in at that moment, pushing the chaos of the store up several levels. I had to describe what happened to three different policemen, skating carefully around the question of how I knew the woman had a gun and was intending to kill Christian when I was seated more than thirty feet away with my back to the signing table.

I couldn’t keep from looking for Christian, no matter how hard I tried to ignore him. Most of the time I found
he was watching me, but once I saw him arguing quietly but vehemently with Joy. She gestured in my direction and said something to him that he didn’t like. He shook his head repeatedly, making gestures of denial with his hands. Finally he snapped something at her and turned on his heel, storming away from her. From the look of surprise on her face, I guessed he wasn’t normally that rude.

To her. Me, he all but accused of being a partner in crime with the gun-toting woman. Not to mention messing up some suspicious plan that involved carving himself up for who knew what reason. Maybe he was into some strange blood-sport sex cult. He certainly was sexy enough for five men; I wouldn’t put it past him at all to be the sort of domineering, assured, self-centered man who loved to have women fawning all over him. Men! If I weren’t so partial to them—zometimes, under certain circumstances—I’d give them up completely.

By the time the police were through interrogating everyone who witnessed what happened, I was exhausted. I could barely stand; my leg felt like someone had used it as a knife-throwing target, even after a nice policewoman got me a chair. I got to my feet and staggered a step before I got my leg under control. Christian’s head whipped around from where he was talking to the officer in charge; his eyes narrowed and became almost black. I bared my teeth at him in what I hoped passed for a reasonably polite smile, and limped toward the door. I felt his gaze burning me every step of the way.

“Allie! Wait a minute; I’m not as fast on my feet as I used to be.”

“You were never fast on your feet. Admit it, Joy, you’re an Amazon. A fat Amazon.”

“I’m pregnant, you annoying short person. I’m allowed to be fat.” Joy puffed her way up to me and held out a
card. “Come for tea tomorrow. We have a lot to talk about.”

I looked over her shoulder to where Christian was still watching me with a narrow-eyed glare. “Thanks, but no, thanks. I don’t think your friend there likes me overly much.”

Joy tipped her head to one side while Roxy grinned.

“Christian won’t be there. He’s never up that early. It’ll be just us three. And possibly Raphael.”

“That’s her fiancé,” Roxy added helpfully.

I couldn’t help but glance at Joy’s very pregnant stomach.

Roxy shot her friend a pointed look. “I
told
you that you guys should have gotten married as soon as you knew you were preggers. What that poor child is going to have to go through if you don’t tie the knot in time….”

“Come to tea, please,” Joy said, exuding warmth and happiness that slipped past all my guards. I hesitated, then took the card. Joy’s smile grew wider.

“You think we should tell her about the steps?” Roxy asked Joy.

“Steps? I prefer elevators, thank you. Easier on the legs.”

Joy looked thoughtful. “I hadn’t thought of that, but you’re right. Christian just completed the second step. If that doesn’t convince him, nothing will. Now he
has
to believe me.”

“What sort of step? Convince him of what? Believe what? Why do I feel like you guys are talking about Eskimos, and I’m trying to explain how to make fudge?”

Roxy nudged me with her elbow. “You’re going to love the third step. Trust me on this.”

“Third step of what?” I asked them both.

Joy rubbed the small of her back, grimacing as she did
so. “We’ll tell you about it tomorrow. Four o’clock. We have lots to talk about.”

I had a feeling that was going to prove to be the understatement of the year.

By the time I made it back to my hotel room, it was too late to call the SIP offices and try to get the name and address of the hermit (man or woman, I wasn’t sure which) I thought might be able to help me with my Release problem. I took a long bath instead, soaking my leg until I was all pruney, then got into a pair of soft sleeping shorts and a T-shirt, wrapping myself up in an oversize lumpy green bathrobe. With my scarred leg and odd eyes and decidedly frumpy nightwear I might not be a fashion plate, but I was certainly comfortable.

“Well, Mr. Kitty, it looks like it’s just you and me again tonight. I hope you do your disappearing act tomorrow when the maid comes in. I’ll send you on as soon as I can, but don’t hold your breath until then. I need to talk to that hermit first.”

I spent some time writing up notes on the evening’s events, then pulled on my sweatpants and shirt to pop downstairs to leave Corrine an e-mail saying I had her book and would bring it home with me. That done, I hung around the lounge for a bit, but eventually the strange looks I was getting (sweatpants and sunglasses were evidently not considered haute couture) were enough to send me back up to the privacy of my room.

“I see privacy is a relative term in London,” I commented as I closed the door behind me. Christian was in possession of the sole comfortable armchair in the room, his legs crossed with casual elegance, the fingers of one
hand rubbing his chin as he watched the three-legged cat roll on its back and bat with ineffectual paws at the fringe of the bedspread. “How did you get in here, what do you think you’re doing, what was your little game last night, who were those people who ran off, how dare you think I knew anything about that madwoman with the gun, and are you or are you not a vampire?”

Sleek sable eyebrows pulled together as he rose gracefully to his feet and made an exquisite bow. “I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. I am Christian Johann Dante. Your name is …” He frowned. “Allie?”

“It is. It’s short for Allegra.”

“Ah. I dislike diminutives; they are so common. I will use Allegra.”

My hackles went up instantly. I crossed the room to snag the wooden seat sitting before the dressing table, hauling it into a position from which I could more effectively glare at him. “Is that so? Well for your information, Mr. Stuck-up, my twin brother gave me that nickname. My brother who died eighteen years later in the same accident that crippled my right leg. So you’ll have to pardon me if I don’t find it at all common.”

He stood watching me for a moment until I made an annoyed sound and told him to sit down.

“I am sorry that you lost your brother. I, too, lost a dearly loved brother in my youth. It took me many years to forgive myself for living when he died.”

I glanced up at him, startled that he felt the same way about his brother’s death that I did when Leslie died.

“Tell me of this accident. How old were you when it occurred?”

I slammed the guards on my mind down tight against the gentle probes I could feel him sending out. No one played in my head without an invitation. “Why don’t you
try answering a few questions before you start asking them? Namely, how did you get in here?”

He shrugged, an elegant move that matched all of his other elegant moves. Even though he was dressed in a simple black sweater with simple black pants, I had the strangest sense that I wasn’t seeing him as he really was—he should be dressed in silk shirts with ruffled fronts and lace on the cuffs, I thought, with those colorful vests that men wore a couple hundred years ago, and tight breeches and boots that reached to his knees. And a riding crop—he looked very much like a riding crop kind of guy.

“I wished to speak with you. I had no idea that your room was already occupied.” This he said looking at the cat, now engaged in licking its belly, “or that you would find my presence so objectionable. I felt that after the evening’s deplorable event we had some unfinished business to settle.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, not in the least bit convinced. “Unfinished business like just what were you doing last night? And how did you get out of there so quickly? Wait a minute—answer my last question first: Are you a vampire?”

His eyes glittered mahogany and gold at me, but other than the slight incline of one eyebrow, he didn’t look at all perturbed to be having this conversation. “I am Moravian, what is commonly referred to as a Dark One.”

Well, that was a big help. “So you’re a vampire?”

His fingers made an elegant gesture that left the question unanswered.

“Okay, let’s try this: Do you drink people’s blood to survive?”

He sat extremely still. “Yes,” he finally answered, the velvet of his voice giving the word a power I’d never felt before.

“Are you immortal?”

Again the hesitation. “I can be killed.”

“Most living beings can. Let me rephrase that—what year were you born?”

His gaze never left my face. “In the year of our Lord eleven hundred and twelve.”

I did a bit of quick mental subtraction. “That sounds pretty immortal to me. Do you burn to a crisp in the light of the sun?”

A slight smile played around on the corners of his lips. I suddenly wanted to be that smile. “Burn to a crisp? No, but I do not find sunlight particularly healthy.”

“Fine. So you”—I ticked the items off on my fingers—”drink blood to survive, are more or less immortal, and avoid sunlight. Well, you know, that sounds like a vampire to me!”

“Dark Ones are frequently referred to as vampires,” he allowed.

“I hear a ‘but’ in there.”

The smile grew, making me feel a bit too warm in my comfy sweats. “The mythology of vampires and the history of Dark Ones is similar, but not identical.”

“Oh. So you’re like, what, a benign vampire? A quasivampire? Vamp light? Do you go around doing good deeds? Or are you merely a vampire with a really big chip on his shoulder who likes to push people around and slice himself up for fun and profit?”

He actually had the nerve to look martyred at my words. “You are the most irreverent woman I have ever met.”

“And you’re changing the subject.”