Dying to Date

by Victoria Davies

  “I must confess,” Tarian said when the waiter left. “This is my first date through the agency. I just spent the past thirty minutes being debriefed on the dos and don’ts of the practice.”

  “Oh?” she asked. “What were some of the pitfalls to avoid?”

  “It seemed that most of the rules revolved around minding my manners. Any sort of power or influence is banned on a first meeting. I’m to avoid controversial subjects like transformations, history in general, and interspecies politics.”

  “Do they suggest we discuss the weather and comment on safe topics such as the best places to see in the city or the adorable habits of mortals?”

  “That would ensure I don’t give any offense,” he agreed.

  “I’m not easily offended,” she replied. “And Fated Match seems to have outlined the perfect recipe for a dull date.”

  “We wouldn’t want that.” His gaze bored into hers, though the half smile never left his lips.

  “No,” she purred. “We wouldn’t.”

  The chatter around them fell away as she had eyes only for the man across from her. Again her body pulsed with anticipation. Had she been human, her heart would have been racing. Usually these dates were easy to guide. God knew she had more than enough practice at polite chitchat, but Tarian stole the words from her. She didn’t want to speak of nothing. Instead a desire to know him filled her. Never before had she reacted so strongly to a man, and she needed to figure out just what it was about him that drew her. Was it a 90 percent rating thing, or was it something uniquely Tarian that drew her in?

  Breaking her gaze, he reached into his briefcase. “I was also informed Fated Match follows the old tradition of intention gifts.” He withdrew a small pink box and held it out to her.

  Melissa accepted the package, which fit in the palm of her hand. She recognized the Fated Match logo stamped over the wrapping paper. In fact, she’d seen hundreds of identical boxes in Abbey’s office. It was an old tradition, to be sure, but in times gone by supernatural creatures used to give little tokens to signal they were pursuing each other with a more permanent relationship in mind. Today Fated Match offered a discount gift service to members. A yearly fee would entitle the bearer to a gift box per date, all the items carefully selected by the Fated Match team to pair appropriate objects with the proper species requirements.

  Her first dates through the agency had given her trinkets like small knickknacks or bottles of hand lotion. It was the intention that was important, more than the actual gift.

  “This is very sweet of you,” she said, pulling at the light-pink ribbon.

  The sides of the box parted, and she wondered what lay within. Her money lay on the ever-popular scented candle.

  But something shiny caught her eyes instead. Parting the folds of the box, she saw a beautiful silver bracelet nestled in the pink tissue paper.

  “It’s lovely,” she breathed. This was no pre-selected Fated Match gift but one he had obviously thought of himself. Its beauty, however, didn’t change one very large complication. “I love it. Really I do. But I can’t keep it.”

  No expression crossed his face. “Why?” he asked as he took a sip of his wine.

  “Silver,” she explained. “It burns my kind. I always wanted silver jewelry, but it’s not possible for vampires.”

  “No?” He took another sip. “Touch it.”

  Melissa glanced up. “Silver feels like acid.”

  “Trust me.”

  Her eyes narrowed. What sort of game was this? It wouldn’t help his cause to burn her on a first date. “I don’t know you,” she said. “Trust would be extremely foolish.”

  He held her gaze without comment. Melissa knew she should be handing the box back, but her fingers curled possessively around the paper. The urge to throw caution to the wind and trust him gripped her. As silly as it was, she wanted to take a chance on something new and different.

  “I promise you won’t get hurt,” he assured her. “It was made for you.”

  She looked back to the delicate chain. It was a piece of art with its intricate Celtic design. She’d love to own a piece of jewelry like it.

  Before she could think through the logic of her actions, Melissa lifted a hand toward the box. She hesitated a moment when her fingers hung over the gleaming surface. With one finger, she gingerly stroked the metal.

  Nothing happened.

  “What?” she said, shock swirling through her.

  “It’s spelled,” he explained as he reached over and picked up the bracelet. “Allow me?”

  Holding out her hand, Melissa watched as he clasped the silver around her wrist.

  “I haven’t owned silver in over a century,” she said, still unable to believe her skin wasn’t burning. “How did you do this?” If silver could be spelled this way, there was a fortune to be made in the jewelry market among her kind.

  “Family secret,” he replied. “Do you like it?”

  “I love it,” she said sincerely. “I think it might be the loveliest gift I’ve received in years.”

  “Excellent.” He didn’t release her wrist but trailed his fingers over her skin instead. “My matchmaker told me first impressions were important.”

  “You already made your first impression back at the agency,” she replied, allowing her fingers to play over his skin as well.

  “True. Must have been good for you to agree to meet me.”

  “We have a great match rating,” she reminded him.

  “Algorithm,” he said. “I’m not sure how much stock I put in that.”

  “You think we aren’t a good match?” She trailed her fingertips across his palm.

  Heat flickered in his sapphire gaze. “On the contrary,” he murmured. “Rating or not, I would have called you. The computer system is helpful, I suppose, but it doesn’t replace seeing someone for the first time and knowing.”

  “Knowing what?”

  A smile flashed over his face. “That she should be yours.”

  Desire shot through her. Oh yes, she knew exactly what he meant. Just as it had at Fated Match, proximity to this man filled her head with scandalous urges. Something about him resonated with her in a way no other man had accomplished in quite some time. If ever.

  “Excuse me. Your meals,” the waiter interrupted, appearing at their side.

  Tarian released her, and she reluctantly drew her hand back.

  A garden salad, which actually looked quite good, was set before her. Melissa knew from experience, though, that the leaves would be utterly tasteless if she put one in her mouth.

  Instead she reached for the red glass the waiter had brought.

  The first sip was ambrosia. Her eyes closed in pleasure as the warmed liquid washed over her tongue. Though she loved Abbey dearly, the mortal had never really understood her craving for blood. No human could. After the transformation, a single drop tasted like the best feast one had ever eaten as a human. To her, truly good blood almost reminded her of her first taste of chocolate.

  “Good?” Tarian asked as he cut into his meat.

  “Superb. I don’t know what they infuse into the blood here, but maybe I should try hiring their cook.” Melissa glanced at the glass in her hand before looking back to her date. “Does this bother you?”

  He arched a brow as he chewed. “What do you mean?”

  “Some people don’t really approve of vampires eating in public.” She’d dated a werewolf once who had insisted she only ever feed alone behind closed doors. He’d been scandalized by the idea that she’d love to bite him.

  Tarian, however, looked unfazed. “I would never presume to tell a vampire when and where to commit an act they need to survive.”

  A sigh of relief escaped her. “Good to hear.”

  “I’ve never been uncomfortable around the world of death,” he said, taking another bite. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

  Except his words sparked a different kind of worry. “How comfortable are you, exactly?”


  Another grin flashed her way. “Fishing for information, are we?”

  “You have to admit, leaving your species section blank is going to raise some eyebrows.”

  “I don’t want to be known just for my blood,” he replied. “Don’t you sometimes wish you could walk into a room and not be immediately recognized as Melissa Redgrave, vampire socialite?”

  He had a point.

  “Okay,” she replied, taking another sip. “Just promise me your race is nothing dangerous that I should know about.”

  An emotion flashed across his eyes, but it was gone faster than she could track. “Promise,” he said with a smile. “You’re safe with me.”

  Melissa refrained from pointing out she was safe by herself. Her fangs and claws were sharp, and she had years of defense training under her belt. In fact, men’s urges to see her as a delicate princess only served to piss her off on most occasions.

  Which is why the warmth flooding her had to be pleasure from the blood and not from this stranger’s words.

  “All right then,” she said. “If you are determined to be mysterious, then tell me what you think I should know about you.”

  He tilted his head to the side as he thought. “What you see is pretty much what you get,” he said. “I’m a rather average man.”

  “Granted I’ve spent only a brief time with you, but average is not the word I’d use.”

  His eyes flicked up to hers, and her grip tightened on the wine glass. Something about his gaze seemed to see into her. She didn’t know if it was his magic or just simply him, but one thing was certain, nothing about this man was normal.

  “Thank you for that,” he said. “But I assure you my life is pretty staid. I moved east with my younger sister a few weeks ago. We were looking for a fresh start, and I hadn’t been to New York since before the Empire State Building went up.”

  “It was quite the feat to watch,” she said, remembering the wonder of its construction.

  “I spent one lifetime as an architect,” he told her. “It was possibly my favorite profession.”

  “But now you are in finance?”

  He nodded. “A failing economy is bad for supernaturals as well as humans. I have the skills to be useful, so why not work in the sector for now? Perhaps I’ll go back to architecture in a few decades.”

  Melissa thought of her long life. Though she’d had the odd job here and there, being Lucian’s heir had provided a very different way of living. She’d been more of a patron than a worker for most of her life. Even now she was following that pre-determined role.

  “So you see,” Tarian said, breaking her from her thoughts. “There is not much to tell about me.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask about his age, but she bit back the impolite question. Most supernaturals didn’t like to discuss such matters, and either way it was a moot point. For Tarian, she’d been willing to overlook her age gap rule.

  “Where were you before the city?”

  He focused his attention on his food. “We moved around quite a bit. There isn’t much of this country I haven’t seen.”

  “And before that?”

  Tarian glanced up at her, but his expressive gaze was shuttered. “Let’s just say I’ve spent more than a few lifetimes on this continent and leave it at that. Unless, of course, you wish to tell me intimate details of your past in exchange for stories from mine.”

  She smiled slightly. “I was being rude. My apologies.”

  He shook his head. “While I appreciate the interest, there are parts of my life I prefer not discussing. I’m sure it is the same with you.”

  The accident flashed across her mind as she inclined her head. “On to more mannered subjects then,” she said. “I hope you enjoy your time in New York.”

  “It’s definitely growing on me,” he replied, eying her.

  The fresh blood circulating in her body made it easier to blush. That was the only reason her cheeks were heating.

  “What about you?” Tarian asked. “What do I need to know about the famous Melissa Redgrave?”

  She made a face. “That I don’t like the attention, for one.”

  “Not a fan of the spotlight?”

  Melissa took a sip from her glass. “I suppose I don’t really know any alternative. My human life ended abruptly, and my immortal one had only ever been lived as Lucian’s sole heir.”

  “It must be grating that people make assumptions about you before even meeting.”

  “Exactly,” she agreed. “There are times when I want to shout that I’m not just a mirror image of my father. I have my own ideas.”

  Tarian chewed slowly as he nodded. “It is important not to make snap decisions. People are more complex than a bloodline.”

  It was rare to hear someone understand her thinking and not simply smile and agree with anything she said just because she had Lucian on speed dial.

  “You should be warned,” she said, “sticking with me will shine the spotlight on you as well.”

  Tarian’s gaze slid away from her, and for a moment she feared she’d scared him away. Not everyone wanted their face plastered on the front of magazines. If he was a man who valued his privacy, dating her could be a problem.

  But when he looked back at her, there was a smile on his face. “I’m not easily dissuaded from things I want,” he told her. “And a few articles are a small price to pay to see you again.”

  Pleasure filled her. “Glad to hear it,” she said, tapping her wine glass against his.

  “I take it you enjoy your work with the Redgrave foundation?”

  “I do,” she replied. “It’s something I seem to be good at, but every now and then…” Her voice trailed off.

  He arched an inquiring brow, popping a carrot into his mouth.

  Melissa leaned forward to rest her arms on the table. “I want to do more than plan parties and hold events. My father is always caught up in making important policy changes that help govern our world, and I have no part of that branch of the Redgrave responsibilities.”

  “What would you change?”

  She sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t know. I plan other people’s charities but I have no cause of my own.”

  “Nothing to fight for.”

  “Exactly.” Melissa leaned back. “But I suppose I’m too young to be of any real use to my father. I haven’t had time to learn about all the inner workings of our world.”

  “I disagree,” Tarian replied. “Your youth gives you fresh eyes. Allows you to look at problems from a different perspective. Is there nothing facing your father you could assist with?”

  Melissa scoffed. “He’s dealing with the necromancers. Not an area I’d be inclined to offer ‘fresh eyes’ on.”

  Tarian paused in mid chew. “No,” he replied, his voice subdued. “I suppose not.”

  Melissa studied her companion as she tipped the last swallow of blood to her lips. He scraped up the last of his potatoes before setting his cutlery on the empty place.

  “Was it good?” she asked with a smile.

  “Wonderful,” he replied. “I’ll have to remember this place.”

  “There are several restaurants that cater to our kind, but Celeste’s reigns supreme.”

  “Dessert?” he asked.

  She shook her head. While they did have a delightful blood sorbet, she couldn’t eat another drop. “I’m completely satisfied.”

  When a knowing smile tugged at his lips, she mentally amended the statement. Her hunger for blood was completely satisfied. Her hunger for him, however, was only growing.

  “Then let me grab the check,” he offered, flagging down the waiter.

  Melissa leaned back in her seat. Usually she offered to split the bill, but it tended to annoy the more old-fashioned immortals. Given how well the night was going, she decided to let this time slide.

  “Thank you for dinner,” she said as he signed the bill and handed it back to the waiter.

  “It was my pleasure,” he r
eplied, offering a hand to help her stand.

  Though unnecessary, Melissa would take any chance she could get to touch him.

  She slipped her fingers into his and rose from the chair. This close, she had to tilt her head up to see him, despite her heels.

  “We’ll have to do it again sometime,” she breathed.

  Tarian raised her hand to his lips and pressed a light kiss to her knuckles. “Agreed.”

  With him keeping hold of her hand, they navigated their way through the restaurant. Melissa grinned at the envious glances being thrown her way. Logic told her he’d be going on other Fated Match dates, but tonight he felt like he was hers alone.

  Together they stepped into the night, and she inhaled the cool air out of habit rather than necessity.

  “Full moon,” she said, looking at the sky. “There’ll be weres running around Central Park tonight.”

  “No doubt,” he agreed from by her side.

  Leaving the bright sky, she transferred her gaze to her date.

  “So,” she said, unsure of what to say.

  A grin flashed across his lips. “So.” He turned to face her, still keeping a hold of her hand.

  Nerves gripped her as she looked up at him. It was ridiculous at her age to be acting like a schoolgirl out with her first crush. She’d perfected the art of suave seduction, but Tarian made her forget all her tricks.

  He stepped forward, crowding her against the brick wall.

  “I was told 48 percent of first dates don’t end in a good night kiss. I think that’s an appalling statistic.”

  “Absolutely terrible,” she agreed. “We should do our best to offset the data.”

  She caught a brief view of his grin before his mouth claimed hers.

  Melissa’s eyes closed as she twined her arms around his shoulders. His lips trailed over hers with tantalizing gentleness. She knew he was teasing her, and though she enjoyed the play, she pushed up on her tiptoes to demand more.

  The light teasing left his touch as he took possession of her mouth. Her lips parted for him and welcomed his questing tongue.

  Tarian’s hands slid over her hips to cup her waist. He pulled her against his hard body and she moaned against his mouth. Fire flared through her as she kissed him. In the back of her mind, she pictured them making out like teenagers on a very exposed street corner but didn’t care. All she could think about was the pressure of his mouth, the heat from his hands.