by A. C. Mason
“Would you mind accompanying me to the bar?” Vaihan held out his arm.
Trapped in a sea of choices she disliked. Stay and listen to the two lovebirds carry on about how blessed they were–and were they ever–or, get refreshments with a dead man she was supposed to get closer to. Didn’t they drink juiced organs?
Peter nodded approvingly. Guess that was his permission for her to go.
She forced another smile then looped her arm with Vaihan’s. The definition of muscle beneath the fabric was sizable. What else was... She cleared her throat. How could she even think such a thing? The man was dead and rotting, wasn’t he? Not that he appeared to be.
The place was filled with the who’s who of Washington. Vaihan acknowledged senators in passing.
“Do you not wish to stop and speak with them?” Growing up with a politician for a father meant she was accustomed to evenings out where she was to be seen and not heard. Exactly one of the reasons why she’d loved Jean. He had wanted to hear her every thought with great interest. He’d denied her nothing. Not even when she’d insisted he relocate to Washington with her. He got a post as professor of classical studies at Georgetown University. Her flirting had left him insecure. She hadn’t been able to give him the same love and nurturing he’d given her.
“No. I have a stunning woman next to me filled with interesting thoughts I want to learn more about. I’ve lived long enough to figure out which has more value.”
God, he was good. Why else would he say such a thing? Only moments had passed since they’d met.
“Thank you.” She pressed her lips together.
“Though you seem to be doing a lot of thinking, so far, you’ve been a woman of few words.” The flesh of his hairless brow line rose. Warm beige lighting shone on the light blue hue of his skin.
“I’m not much of a talker.” Once she’d been a chatterbox, but she’d changed these ten months.
“Are we really going to start our friendship off under the pretense of lies? Your brother said you’ve been withdrawn since your husband died?” He glanced down at her, and the intense black circles of his eyes held her captive. “At one time, he believed you beamed of life itself.”
Peter had said that about her to him. Why? What about Vaihan made her brother trust him, to confide such a thing? And how tall was he? Her head lined up with his collarbone. Six-four? Six-five maybe. At her five-five, he stood nearly a foot taller.
“I’ve learned how minimally people want to hear from you, when most of what you have to share is unpleasant.” Her friends had moved on with their lives and felt she was stagnating. Very few of them contacted her any more. The ones who did seemed to be checking up on her. Making sure she hadn’t killed herself or something.
“Too much time is wasted telling people what they want to hear, rather than what you have to share.” He glided in close, and the warmth of his torso radiated onto her.
At the counter, he smiled. “What would you like?”
Heat rushed inside her chest. Who was this creature and why was he affecting her this way? “An espresso, please.”
“Won’t that have you up most of the night?” He slid back curls from her cheek, his hot fingertips slipping over her skin sending a tidal wave of explosions inside.
The trail his fingers traveled burned. Her nipples peaked, pressing to the lacy fabric of her bra. Why had he done that? Shouldn’t she feel invaded by his touch? The moment had occurred in a blink, and yet she wished to relive his caress.
“I haven’t slept much for a long while.” The large bed felt cold and lonely.
“An espresso for the lady, and I’ll have a Scotch with a shot of puree repro mix.” Vaihan placed cash on the counter.
“All out. We’ve got a primary mix.” The man was round, and his two-strand comb-over suited him.
“Primary it is.”
A group of servers hustled behind the counter. Steam rushed out from the impressive coffee machine.
Vaihan’s stare descended over her curves. “Peach brings out the yellow pigments in your skin, giving you a glow.”
“Thank you.” Fire scorched her cheekbones.
“Are you afraid of me?” He stepped toward her.
She retreated. What a loaded question. The creature worked for the CIA, was trying to take down her brother through her and ate people to survive. Excuse her, if she didn’t buy the reformed song and dance. Cloned body parts were still pieces of humans, weren’t they?
“Allow me to alleviate any fears floating around in your mind. At my age, I need not feed every day, though I usually eat small portions three times a day to make humans more comfortable. I have no criminal record and I’m a special advisor to the president, so I have a stable job at a decent pay. I would also like to see you again. Therefore, consuming you would be counterproductive.”
A young woman hesitated, then placed an espresso and a Scotch in front of Leera, and backed away, eying him.
People could be so insensitive. “Are you bothered by her reaction?”
“No, are you?” Vaihan picked up his glass then rested his other hand in the arch of her back.
As she lifted her mug, the skin beneath his touch tingled “Yes. I think it’s rude.”
“You’d prefer she carry on a conversation with me as though she weren’t uncomfortable then come up with any excuse other than her fear of me for why she hurries off.” He arched his brow.
She swallowed. “Not exactly.” Was that his judgment of her?
“Isn’t that what you are planning to do?” He guided her back to the blissful couple.
How dare he? She barely knew the man...zombie, Ancient, whatever. Peter had given him the perfect in to make his approach. The poor lonely widow angle. She wasn’t going to make this easy on him.
“No.” She sipped her drink. The boiling liquid scorched her lip. Ouch.
“So you’ll see me again?” He smiled.
Whoa, wait a minute. He was double-talking her into going out with him. She shook her head.
“I’m confused by your response. You said you weren’t planning to blow me off and now you have.”
“I’m not ‘blowing you off.’ I just don’t want to be taken out on the basis of pity.” If he was going to ask her out, he could at least make it seem like he was interested.
“And you believe that is the reason I’ve asked you? Because I feel sorry for you?”
His thoughtful expression gave her pause. No, she knew it was to get to Peter, and ultimately, Rowley.
“It hadn’t occurred to you that I’m intrigued and attracted to you. I can’t make heads or tails of you, as you seem bottled up in that brilliant mind of yours, but I’d like to find out what happens when you come out.”
What a smooth talker. Brilliant mind and peach brings out the yellow pigments in your skin, giving you a glow. Some humans sought out zombies for the thrill. At least that’s what she’d read in Vogue. Bet he had a den of zombie groupies waiting breathlessly at home for him.
“Say you’ll see me again, as I won’t take no for an answer.” He exhaled in a long sigh.
She forced a smile then shook her head. He would have to accept she wasn’t going to make this easy on him.
Peter held Meg close.
Vaihan turned to them. “Leera was telling me you haven’t narrowed down names yet.”
Liar, they hadn’t even been speaking of that. She’d been turning down his invitation to go out. Where was he going with this?
“Not yet.” Meg perked up. “But we aren’t due for another two months”
Two more long, excruciating months of listening to them, watching her brother and Meg carry on and on about this new person coming into their lives. The one positive was that maybe they would be too busy to bother her.
“Plenty of time, then.” He smiled, revealing a dimple on one side of his mouth.
Lightning moved through her. She hadn’t expected such a sexy, distinctive characteristic. The crowd shifted back toward the music hall. She put
her cup on a table.
Vaihan’s caressing hand withdrew from her, taking with it the warm sensation.
“Thank you for the company, and I will pick you up Thursday at seven for dinner.”
Both Meg and Peter’s eyes grew wide.
Vaihan bowed, and handed her a business card. “My home number is on the back.”
There was no way of backing out of his move without being rude. He was too smooth. “Thank you.” Leera took the paper in hand and flipped the card over. Great penmanship.
“Why don’t you join us?” Meg piped up.
How embarrassing. Leera sunk inside herself.
“I’d hate to impose on your family outing.” Vaihan stepped back.
Even the undead guy seemed uneasy about the desperateness of the offer.
“Nonsense, there is an empty seat next to Leera.” Meg gestured to her.
The image of Jean next to her flashed, then the current vacant seat. She’d renewed two season tickets, unable to tell the bubbly sales girl there was no longer a mister, just his widow.
Leera’s chest rose and fell as she heaved a breath. “I need to step outside a moment.” The harsh clunk of her heels echoed as she marched away into the cool night. She didn’t make for a very good snitch.
Chapter 6
Perhaps the seat wasn’t empty, but vacant. Vaihan wanted to tell her the pain wouldn’t last forever. However, even that stage of grief brought new questions and doubts.
“Meg-g...” Peter frowned.
“Oh dear, I didn’t mean to.” Meg hid her face in Peter’s shoulder. “I didn’t think before I spoke.”
Evidently not. Neither made any attempt to go after her. Weren’t they worried for her safety? “Allow me.” This was his chance.
Vaihan set down his drink before Peter could interject, and followed after her. He pushed the handle and the door opened. Rows of cars stretched before him. The Potomac lapped at the shore to his left, past the grassy area. The night sky provided a starry canopy.
She paced between a minivan and an SUV. The moment Peter had pointed her out, he had suppressed the urge to walk over to her. What had gotten into him? The possibility that he’d grown attached to the sad woman in the photo Barton had provided him was real. Leera was attractive in a sultry way. Human males noticed her.
“Leera.” He breathed out her name.
She darted a look at him, eyes shimmering with tears. Wind tossed her curls in all directions. What a horrid feeling indeed, to be trapped among the living when all you wanted to be was dead. Once, he too had longed for the cycle to end, but not anymore. Not in a long time.
“Don’t come over here. My mascara has made a mess of my face.” She bent toward the side mirror of the silver SUV, her plump bottom pushed out.
“It’s going to take a lot more than smudged makeup to do that.” He cocked his head to admire the seam between her thighs. “You’re gorgeous.”
The corner of her mouth twitched upward. “You are some kind of smooth talker.” She lifted upright then spun toward him.
Admittedly, he stood too close but he itched to touch her again.
When she attempted to step back, he scooped his arm behind her, resting his fingers against the bare skin of her open-backed gown.
A breath hitched at her lips. As her heart rate accelerated, her eyes widened with fear.
“Not so fast.” He steadied her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
She wrapped her hands around the upper part of her body, creating a barrier. Goose bumps covered her exposed arms.
He unfastened the buttons of his jacket, slipped off the garment and then rested it on her shoulders.
“You don’t have to.” Her gazed traveled from his neck to where two buttons were undone on his dress shirt.
Did she like what she saw? For now, he’d content himself with not finding disgust in her eyes. As her dark gaze rose, it met his, and her body relaxed. A run of black makeup was smeared beneath her eyes. He pressed his thumb to her skin, wiping away tears and mascara.
She reached for his hand, then pressed his flesh to hers. “You’re so hot.”
“I’ll have you know, I’m not just good looks.” He let his hand rest in the small of her back.
“I meant your skin.”
“Of course you did. I’m undead. My appearance is usually a cause for fear.” Most of his kind paid for human female companionship. He’d never needed to. Zombies had their own underground scene. Lavish nightclubs, where humans offered themselves up blindfolded, tied up and bound to the wall or ceiling in exchange for a taste of poison. These places provided a safe environment where the undead could feast on the living in a number of ways.
Not his cup of tea.
“Hmm.” She angled her head. “Given the lines of your brow, nose and lips with the structure of your jaw, I’d say you’re easy on the eyes.”
In mere moments of knowing him, she’d been able to see him as more than his scary exterior.
“Undead of my persuasion have a body temperature that is about six degrees hotter than humans.” With his index finger, he tucked a rogue curl behind her ear.
“Guess that’s why I’m not chilly anymore.” She met his stare.
“Here I thought the change was your attraction to me.” He smiled.
She pressed her lips together. A sweet peach scent rose from her flesh as she warmed from his touch. The pigment of her skin indicated she ate healthy food and exercised regularly. The meat of her thighs was probably tender and succulent, but likely didn’t compare to the sweet taste of the juices between them.
His taste buds tingled with anticipation. “Let me take you home?”
She glanced around his shoulder to the grand building. “I don’t want to worry Peter and Meg.”
“I’ll email him on my BlackBerry.” Her next protest was sure to be about him missing this evening’s music. So, he’d better put that option to rest. “As far I’m concerned, I’ve seen the show twice and will again, so you aren’t depriving me.” But if she turned him down, she would be.
“Thank you. I appreciate the ride.” She slipped her arms into the sleeves of his coat.
“My car is in the parking station. This way.” He gestured back inside then pulled out his BlackBerry and thumbed a message to Peter. Please enjoy your evening. I’m escorting Leera home. He pressed Send. “I’ve let your brother know I’m bringing you to your place.”
“You wouldn’t happen to be doing this so you’ll know where I live?” The slightest brightness glimmered in her black eyes.
He held the first set of doors open for her, directed her to the elevator and pressed the Down button. That information would be easy enough to obtain.
“I was joking.” Leera pushed into her heels and smiled.
“It beats stalking you...”
Sadness emanated from her. Loss never got easier, not even for his kind.
“You’d be bored,” she said. “I live an uneventful life. Work, working out, gardening in the summer. I’m a homebody.”
The bell dinged and door panels slid apart. He entered after her and pressed P1. The doors closed. With a jerk, the elevator descended.
“A vegetable garden?” Not a hobby of his, but if she were lying naked in a pumpkin patch he might be convinced otherwise. The accenting contrast of her perfect breasts and dark nipples jutting out over the edge of the large orange vegetables would give him cause to pause.
He swallowed thickly.
“Yes, how did you know?” She smiled then pressed her lips into a thin line.
“Peter told me you’re a genius-turned-chef. Vegetables seemed a natural leap. You studied at the institute of Le Cordon Bleu in Paris, correct?” The best school of French cuisine. She’d gone away to study, probably to be a great distance from the serious Waltz family businesses of law and politics. Not to mention, the pressure.
“I did.” With her straight white teeth, she bit into the moist plumpness of her bottom lip.
A s
hiver shot up his spine. Insinuating such offers with a zombie might not be in her best interest. Not that he planned on eating her in the literal sense of the word. He definitely wanted to taste her in more places and ways than one, but she was work. Better he delay any such encounters until after he flipped the brother to Barton so they could take down Mr. McKie. Once he got that straightened out, whatever occurred would be mutual. The elevator doors opened and he led her to his black Audi with dark tinted windows. He opened her door.
She slipped into the seat. “Are you a haut cuisine connoisseur?” The hemline of her dress rose, revealing her beautiful, fit thighs. In the soft light, her silky bronze legs shimmered.
He frowned at his admiration. “Moi, non, but a good friend of mine, Johann, is the first undead to graduate from the program.” He could only imagine how tender she’d be to bite into, her satiny flesh pressed to his mouth, teasing his lips... He’d forgotten how difficult this would be.
When she’d lifted her legs into the Audi, he shut the door, went around and climbed in on the driver’s side. “Are you buckled in?”
“I am. Thank you.” She tugged the strap over the full mounds of her breasts. They jiggled with the movement, and all he wanted was to have his hands on them.
He exhaled heavily, pulled his belt over his shoulder, across his lap and pushed in. The mechanism clicked. Her belt was on too. He pushed the lock button on the door. The apparatus clicked. He pushed the button again. Why he’d bought a car without the little sticks that indicated the doors were locked or not was beyond him. Her belt seemed in, but what if the latch hadn’t locked?
“Is everything okay?”
If he came up with a good enough reason, she’d let him check her seatbelt. “Yeah, it’s just the seatbelt doesn’t always click in properly. It’s been problematic since I purchased the car.”
“Oh.” She breathed out and tugged the strap.
He covered her hand and yanked, and she jerked her hand back.
Not good. “Sorry.”
“No, I’m the one that should be sorry,” she said, her dark gaze fixed on him. “You were just looking out for me.”
Exactly. If he checked again, she’d think he was crazy.
