by M. Cheykota
There is no need to guess what he will be doing tonight.
I smile seductively at him and return to my seat.
His blush starts at his neck and finishes at the top of his blonde hair. Within seconds, he looks like a tomato wearing a blonde wig.
Tyler elbows me, gives me a dirty look and then turns his attention to Mike.
After spending several minutes talking to Mike about what we want him to do, only stopping to order griddlecakes, Tyler finds out that Clearwater Blood Bank does not have a referral program like the American Heart Blood Bank.
Mike seems reluctant to our proposal and I search his mind to find out why. His mind fills with sexual images of me and other various women. His doubt seems to be coming from his internal struggle of whether to ask me out or not, not about the proposal.
He is curious about why I need so much blood, but really does not care. He believes I am some kind of freak that likes to bathe in blood. That visual turns graphic and sexual before I am able to back out of his mind.
He squirms in his chair with a small mischievous grin most people would hardly notice. Since I know the thoughts that are behind the grin, I nearly choke on the water I am drinking while trying to keep the bile from rising up my throat.
Now that the coughing fit is over, I give Tyler a murderous look. Understanding my clue, I send the suggestion to Mike that he needs to use the restroom. He excuses himself and I turn to face Tyler.
“What’s wrong?” Tyler asks.
“What’s wrong? Are you serious? You can’t say you have been friends with this guy and not know that he is a sick, perverted, twisted, horny psycho and expect me to be okay about it!” I yell at him in a hushed tone.
Tyler laughs so loud that people from nearby tables turn to look at him.
“I knew about the horny and perverted, but what in the hell did you see in his head to grant the other titles you have given him?” Tyler taunts me, his eyes filled with humor.
I shake my head and punch him hard enough on the arm to leave a bruise.
“Ow!” Tyler exclaims, rubbing his arm. “Well do you think he can get your blood or not?”
I think about the question, trying not to picture the images that go along and slowly nod my head. “I think so, but we need to make absolutely sure that he knows that there is no sex in any shape or form included in the deal.”
Tyler chuckles. “I’m sure you can keep him off you.”
“I mean it Tyler. That guy is really creepy.” I whine and shiver in disgust.
“Okay.” Tyler stifles his amusement the best he can when he sees Mike coming back from the bathroom.
Mike returns and finishes his coffee. We both ask him further questions and we agree on him delivering the blood to Tyler and receive a monetary payment weekly from me. Tyler will still receive his donors as payment for Mike as a contact.
Soon after the deal is final, I pay for our meal and we leave IHOP.
It is still early so I take the time to go to a seafood store in Chinatown to pick up some sauce containing shellfish for my mark. I take the sauce back to my place, store it in the refrigerator so it will not spoil, and get ready to go back to Blixen.
I check my laptop for any email messages. I have none. I leave the house, locking up behind me.
Chapter 18
Back at Blixen, the pulse of the music feels like thunder in my bones.
My black Vera Wang dress fits snug against my body and the blood red 4-inch Manolo Blahnik spikes make me feel as good as I know I look. My thoughts are confirmed when I walk towards the dance floor and the eyes of at least four Weres follow my movement.
When I reach the bar, two werewolves, one Werecat and a bird shifter are surrounding me. One of the werewolves buys me a drink. I flirt with them all for a while before the shifter loses interest and makes his way back to the dance floor. I accept the Werecat’s offer to dance. We get lost in a sea of dancers.
A couple of songs later, I get the distinct feeling of eyes on the back of my head. I stop dancing and look around to see if anyone is watching me. At first glance, I do not see anyone so I turn back to the Werecat. Once my attention returns to the Werecat, the feeling of someone watching me intensifies.
I excuse myself from the dance floor and go to the bar area for a better view of the club. When I reach the bar, I get the feeling of someone stalking me. My body tenses, ready for an attack. My senses are on alert, looking, hearing or smelling for anything unusual. Then I recognize Christien off a reflection of the mirror behind the bar as he moves up behind me.
He must be strong enough to cloud my mind so I couldn’t see him before he got this close to me.
I feel Christien’s power right before I hear his voice.
“Hello Jessica.” He whispers close to my ear.
My body betrays my thoughts and becomes instantly aroused. His presence drowns my senses until I cannot see, smell or hear anything except him. I turn around and allow my senses to interpret what they will. He is wearing a jade green Italian silk shirt with black dress pants, accentuating the green in his eyes. The shiny, dark waves of his hair brush his ears, giving him a mysterious and exotic look against his honey kissed skin. He smells how a man should. He has more of a woodsy smell, like cedar and sunshine. His voice is low and seductive, magnifying his slight French accent.
That’s strange. I don’t remember hearing an accent before. I also don’t remember him smelling so good before either.
I snap out of my stupor. “What do you want?”
His lips twitch, almost as if he is holding back his smile. “You already know what I want.”
Unfortunately, I wasn’t emphasizing my annoyance nearly enough for him to get the hint the last time we saw each other.
I gather my composure the best I can. “If it’s me you want, forget it. We have been over this Christien. Oh and how did you find out my name?”
Stupid question, I know. He could ask anyone who frequents the club for my name and they would give it to him, without knowing any better.
“You are a very unique woman and difficult to forget. Anyone who has met you would not easily forget such a beautiful woman.” He informs me in a complimentary tone.
I open my mouth to say something, but can’t come up with any words. I can feel the blush burning my cheeks from his compliment and look away from him, hiding my face with my hair.
He reaches up and brushes my hair from my face. “There is no reason to be embarrassed, ma chatte petite. You can retract your claws. I only wish to speak with you.” He smiles, showing a small hint of fangs.
I should be afraid of his influence over me, but my brain does not get the memo. Instead, my head leans towards the hand that brushed my hair back from my face.
He cups my face with his hand, gently rubbing his thumb on my cheek. “Or if you wish for something more, that can be arranged too. Then you can keep your claws. Either way, I would not mind.”
I realize what he is saying and I jump backwards out of his reach, bumping into a couple standing behind me and nearly knocking over another one when I try to regain my balance.
Christien laughs, causing chills to run down my spine, drawing my attention back to him. I can see amusement in his eyes and it pisses me off.
He sees the anger in my eyes and face and the humor falls away from his.
“Come chatte, let us sit and talk.”
I stare at him, unmoving, as he turns back towards the same table I saw him sitting at last night.
“Please, join me?” He asks, extending his arm for me to accept if I choose, in an old-fashioned gesture.
If you are a vampire that could potentially live for thousands of years, it is likely that no gesture becomes old-fashioned.
“What do you want from me?” I figure he will not respond to my question so I follow him to his table without taking his arm, regardless of how badly I want to touch him.
Maybe if I get him talking, I can find out where he is staying so I may deliv
er him to my client. The sooner he is gone; the sooner things can get back to normal for me.
As we sit down, the server comes over and takes our drink orders. When she disappears, heading towards the bar, I turn to Christien and he shifts closer to me, putting his arm on the back of my chair.
I do my best to ignore his nearness. “What do you want?”
“What do you have against vampires?” He avoids my question by asking one of his own.
“I don't have anything against vampires. Why do you keep avoiding my question?”
“I believe I have answered your question several times. I want to talk to you.” He repeats reasonably.
“Okay, I’m here so talk.” I bark out at him angrily.
“What did I do to make you so angry with me, ma chatte petite?”
“I’m not angry, just annoyed. Since we’re done here, I’ll just go.” I scoot my chair back and he puts his hand on my arm.
“I want to get to know you.” He responds softly.
“Why? I am no one. I am sure there are plenty of beautiful women in here that are looking for a good time with a handsome vampire. Go talk to one of them.” Standing up quickly, I almost tip the chair over in my urgency to leave.
“You find me handsome?” He grins at me happily.
“Ugh!” I growl in frustration.
“I will make no further advances on you, ma chatte petite, if you would please sit and keep me company for a little while.”
I look around for another empty chair for a means to escape, but the club is full tonight. I could make someone get up, but I need to gather information on Christien so I turn to face him. “Do you promise?”
“You have my word.” He replies and holds my chair for me to sit down.
There is nothing but silence between us for what seems like a long time, but is probably only a few minutes. I cross my legs, exposing more thigh than I intend. He casually watches the movement, but does not comment on it. Finally, unable to keep quiet any longer I ask the question that has been running through my mind.
“What are you doing here Christien?” I cringe at my sharp tone, but decide not to rephrase the question.
“I have been looking for you. I am happy you decided to return to this club tonight so that I could have the opportunity to talk to you. Our first encounter was so…” He waves his hand in the air, searching for the correct word that would translate into English. “I think the correct word would be… intense. I have been eager to see you again. I thought about you throughout the day and I regret that our first meeting did not go very well.”
“So, you are looking to make a better first impression with me? That’s what you want to do? I’ve told you repeatedly that I am not interested in dating a vampire. You are a vampire so that means I am not interested in dating you. I can’t get any clearer than that.” I explain, hoping he understands. Even to myself my resolve is weakening.
He studies me for a moment. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”
“You know, begging has never done it for me.” I mock him.
“You seem so firm on this rule of yours. Someone must have hurt you deeply if you condemn all vampires.” He studies my face as if the answer to why I won’t date vampires is there to find.
“That’s none of your business. I have my reasons and they are non-negotiable.” I hold firm in my decision.
“Perhaps we could just be friends?”
I frown. “No. Find someone else. You are wasting your time with me.”
Seeing that he is not getting anywhere, he changes tactics. “Is there anyone you recommend then? I do not plan to be in town very long so if you know anyone that will suit me, I would appreciate an introduction.”
I take a moment to blank my face, hiding the hurt from his dismissal before responding. “Sure, I’ll just send her over.”
I get up so fast the chair topples backward and crashes to the floor with a loud whack. Before the chair hits the floor, I am halfway across the room. I can feel the jealousy and hurt building inside of me by his easy dismissal.
Why should I care? I can’t get involved with any vampires, especially because he is my mark. I curse in frustration and I try to remind myself that I have a job to do as I reach the cooler air outside.
All that time sitting alone with Christien, I found out no useful information about him other than he is not going to be in town much longer. I should grab him tonight when he leaves the club, but all of my special weapons, not to mention functional clothes, are at home. I curse to myself again for being so distracted that I left home unprepared.
I am usually ready for anything when I am on a job. Maybe, I too, am becoming complacent.
Hiding behind a nearby tree with a clear view of the club and all of the exits, I wait for Christien to leave Blixen.
Minutes later, Christien leaves the club, looking around the area before walking down the street. Leaving my car behind, I remove my shoes and carry them in my hand while I follow him. I am careful not to make any sound and I stay at least a quarter mile behind him to cover any noise I do make.
About an hour passes. It feels like we have been walking in circles. I hang back a little farther, barely keeping him within my sight. He turns a corner, but by the time I creep my way to the corner, he is gone. I wait, standing very still, using my hearing to listen for any footsteps. I do not hear anything. I sniff the air. I can smell his scent on the air, but it is very weak, as if it has dissipated. I curse inwardly, realizing that I lost him.
I turn around to head back to the club to see Christien leaning against the end of the building, arms crossed, staring at me.
I freeze. Adrenaline shoots through my veins as panic sets in.
Busted!
Chapter 19
“Why are you following me, ma chatte petite?” He has a completely neutral face, but I can tell by his tone that he is angry.
“I… I…” I stutter, unable to find a feasible excuse for following him.
He pushes himself off the wall and walks over to me. He stops about an arm’s length away from me. “Jessica?”
Still unable to find my voice, I just stand there.
“Humph. I do not know what to think of this situation.” He takes a step towards me. “We have this incredible attraction towards each other, but you do not wish to explore it.” He takes another step, now about a foot away from me. “I pursue you all night, yet you still continue to reject my advances.” He takes the last step. I can feel his breath on my cheek. “Now, you follow me all over the city, hiding in the shadows. What should I make of this?” He asks me as his lips brush mine.
My stomach drops to my toes and my eyes are only open a fraction until they are just slits.
“Well, ma chatte petite, what shall it be?” He whispers into my mouth.
My body is vibrating with need. I know he can smell my desire for him just as I can smell his desire for me. Unable to deny the attraction any longer, I respond so quietly, I am surprised he could hear me. “I don’t know.”
“Very well.” He says on a sigh and then takes a step backwards. My entire body screams at me in protest. I think I might have even let out a whimper.
“Why are you following me?” He asks me again.
I clear my voice loudly. “I was curious about you.”
I mentally slap myself.
“You had the opportunity tonight to ask me any questions. Why not ask them and get an answer? What have you learned by following me?”
I think about it for a second before replying honestly. “I learned that you like to walk a lot.”
He chuckles. “I knew you were following me, ma chatte petite. I just do not understand why.”
“What does that mean? Ma chatte petite?”
“It is a term of endearment. It means ‘my kitten’.”
I tilt my head to the side, thinking about his choice of endearment for me. “Oh. Well I’m no kitten.”
“You are very precious, but no, you are n
o kitten. Maybe I shall change that to ma chatte sauvage.” He replies affectionately.
I could not help myself. I had to ask. “And that means?”
He smiles. “My wildcat.”
My lips twitch, trying hard not to smile.
He looks at the shoes in my hand, then down at my bare feet and frowns. “There is a 24 hour coffee and doughnut shop around the corner. We should get some coffee and rest your feet.” He suggests, offering his arm to me in that old-fashioned manner again.
My feet are aching and I am exhausted from all the walking. Coffee, doughnuts and a chair sounds like heaven to me. I accept his arm and we walk down the street towards the smell of coffee.
He glances at my shoes. “You should put on your shoes. I am sure the ground is not very comfortable.”
“And ruin my shoes! Are you crazy? These are Manolo Blahnik spikes.” I stare at him incredulously. “I’ll walk through fire before I fuck up my shoes! These are my favorite pair.”
“They are only shoes. I can buy you another pair if they become ruined.”
I look at him as if he is sprouting another head.
He opens the door to the coffee shop and catches the look on my face.
“Only shoes. Only shoes!” I squeal as we walk in and sit at a table in the corner, automatically positioning my back against the wall. “These ‘shoes’ are very special to me and cost me a lot of money. I don’t know what you do for a living, but my salary would not cover many ‘ruined shoes’ so I try to take care of them.”
He looks at me before looking down at my shoes again. “I can afford to buy you new shoes. I am not sure what makes these shoes so special besides the fact that they have been on your feet.”
I am speechless. This vampire’s tongue must be made of silver.
