“Look a little frightened there.”
She walked towards him. “Was lost in thought.”
Ellie conversed with Harry briefly, enjoying the time with him. He always offered her advice, worried over her, and told her anecdotes. Ellie gave him half her lunch from that day, as she usually did, and promised to visit with him again soon. She needed to hurry home since thunder was rumbling.
“Thank you, Ellie. And do be careful,” he said.
She smiled. “You do the same, Harry. See you soon.”
Hearing another noise as she walked, this time to her left, she turned. At seeing a large man standing feet away from her, she gasped and stepped back. When she blinked and looked again, he was gone. Deciding that she needed more sleep, she walked faster to her apartment. The air was growing thick and she felt the storm was an ominous warning.
She hurriedly climbed the steps to her loft/studio/hole-in-the-wall, a half-hour later. Quickly inserting the keys into the doorknob, she went inside, dropped her backpack at the door, and locked it. Her door came complete with fifty million locks. Ok, so it only came with three. She locked the doorknob, the bolt, and the chain. You couldn’t be too safe in this city, especially in her part of town. She lived right above a bar and the clients weren’t exactly Hollywood elite.
The small four hundred square foot loft apartment was the only place she could afford and it worked for her. Ellie’s old, beat up computer that she named “Old Faithful” was in one corner. A dresser stood next to her desk, and on the opposite corner was her small kitchen. Her tiny bathroom occupied the third corner. With a pedestal sink and tub/shower combination, she felt like a queen. She liked to soak in there once a week, time permitting.
In the fourth corner was her futon, which served as her bed and sofa- not any different than most college students. For entertainment, she’d splurged on a small nineteen inch TV with combination DVD player a year ago.
Ellie stepped in front of her armoire and opened it. She hung up her jacket and then tossed her shirt and jeans in the hamper. Left in her bra and underwear, she walked over to the body length mirror she had hanging behind her bathroom door.
Staring at her reflection, she looked herself over critically. She needed to lose fifteen pounds. She had curves here and there, and she was happy, but she wouldn’t mind toning up a little. She was beginning to believe she was the star of the next pop-modern movie as a woman nearing twenty-five, who’s never had a serious relationship and still wore a chastity belt.
She shrugged, letting her hair loose from the elastic band. Reaching her mid-back, she thought she should get a haircut, but who had the money and the time? At least her hair wasn’t dull, with its streaks of gold and red, done by nature, not Clairol. Luckily, she had pretty blue eyes that were frequently complimented. She didn’t think of herself as a beauty, though. She was five-foot- eight with fifteen extra pounds.
She shook her head.
Alright, twenty extra pounds.
After showering, she slipped into her purple cozy pajamas and headed for her futon. Leno would be on, and she was going to be rebellious tonight. She wasn’t going to work on one damned thing, except for the bowl of chocolate ice cream she had been craving all day.
She sat on her futon after serving herself a scoop. OK, it was really two scoops, but no one was around. She sighed, turned on the TV, placed her feet on the coffee table, and pretended she didn’t hear it groan. The volume was too low and so she looked around. Where was that damn remote? It wasn’t as if she lived in a mansion; it had to be around here. With a shrug of defeat she got up and manually raised the volume.
“This is the third murder in as many weeks. Police are not releasing the details surrounding the murders, but have said that they might have a serial killer on their hands. A source tells us it may be ritual killings. This is Camden Cameron reporting live, WVMP 13.”
Her spoon clanged on the already chipped bowl.
A serial killer?
She shivered.
Ritual killings?
Lord, she hoped her hooptie came out of the shop soon. She didn’t want to walk at night anymore.
Alone.
“Yes, Sarai?” Xander asked as he sauntered in. He was angry, she noted- and very, very edgy. His restless energy nearly consumed her.
“The restlessness in you is much more profound.”
He sighed, rubbing his forehead and pinching the skin of his nose. “I’m not talking about this with you again.”
“Fine. Why have you taken so long to approach her? Vampisapiens or Lythorians could take her, kill her. Let’s also mention that you have two months left before her birthday. Conversion could occur today, next week, months after-”
“That doesn’t concern me, except for letting you know when she begins the process. After that, my job is done.”
She growled and Xander almost laughed at the unusual, audible, objection.
“What’s taking so fucking long?”
“Well, first” he began dryly, “quit summoning me here like a parent does with an errant child.” His accent was thick and very pronounced- a sign of his irritation.
“Remember, you just gave me her name and told me she works in a library. Have you any idea how many damn libraries there are? It took me awhile but I found hers. Downtown. I’ll approach her in the next couple of days. I’ve been watching her for two weeks. Her behavior is odd.” His fangs were longer than usual, another sign of his annoyance.
“What have you observed?”
“She works too hard, sleeps little, eats little. She converses with a homeless man in a park, gives this man food, and helps him to find employment.” He shook his head. “I don’t get it. She cares about people.” Pensive, he said the last sentence as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Sarai kept her smile to herself. “Not everyone is as self-absorbed and arrogant as you and I, Xander.”
His eyes flashed but he knew her words to be true.
“Humans are selfish and arrogant,” he said, almost challenging her. “Hell, most of our race is, too.”
Sarai raised a delicate eyebrow. Her white toga-like dress swished. “Perhaps.”
After a moment of pause, her pale violet gaze centered on him. “About her not eating and sleeping, how do you know?”
“I hear her speaking to the homeless man.”
“A sign she’s approaching conversion,” she said, excited.
“I’ll keep a close eye on her until I introduce myself. To make things worse, there is a serial killer on a rampage.”
Sarai grew alarmed. “Damn it, Xander, watch her. Protect her! She’s mortal. Her life is very vulnerable.”
“I know and I will,” he snapped.
He looked over to his right. Lifting an eyebrow, he said, “Enjoy your company.”
Sarai laughed as he dematerialized, and looked over to her tasty playmate, courtesy of Anneigh. He was wearing nothing but his birthday suit.
Just how she liked them.
Meat without the frills.
Chapter Three
Ellie read the newspaper at the reference counter. Three weeks, five murders. She shivered.
Serial Killer Confirmed by Police.
“Masters, you shouldn’t be reading the newspaper,” her supervisor said from behind her. She folded the newspaper, forced a smile, and turned around. If she lost this job, she would be in trouble, so she pretended she didn’t hate him.
“I’m a reference librarian, Richard. I need to know as much information as possible in case the public needs a reference,” she said, trying to make light of the situation. When his face didn’t change in its sourness, she added, “Alright, I’m sorry. I was trying to catch-up with the news, that’s all. There’s a serial killer targeting women.”
He suddenly looked at her with blossoming interest- again.
Richard Pratt stood there in a washed-out blue colored long sleeved shirt and his dark navy pleated pants. Pratt wasn’t on the tall-side, sta
nding a mere three inches above her. He was thin and not very handsome, with his mousy brown hair and beady brown eyes. What he lacked in muscle, he made up for in ego. He was thirty-three, unmarried, and utterly boorish. He was also self-centered, selfish, and rude.
Tell me how you really feel.
“Well, Masters, if you need some time off let me know,” he said, touching her shoulder in an all too personal way. “I’ll give you time off and I’ll take some time off, and perhaps we can spend it doing something else,” he said, smiling.
She wasn’t.
Pratt had continuously made passes at her despite her best efforts to dress like the stereotypical school-marmish librarian. The only thing missing was the hair bun. Lately, his comments were getting out of control and his touching was, too. Even though she needed this job, Ellie was never much for taking bullshit by the shovelful. Bills or no bills.
“Listen, Richard, please don’t take offense, but I’m not interested in dating you. This is strictly an employment relationship, and I’m sorry if you feel otherwise. And I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t touch me anymore.”
His eyes and nose flared at her refusal. “I’m sorry if you misconstrued my actions to mean anything more than innocent banter, Masters,” he said tersely. He touched her face with his index finger and she jerked back violently. He flushed angrily.
“I think that if you like being a reference librarian, you would do well not to shy away from innocent touching,” he said, meaning every bit of the double entendre.
The hotel-style concierge bell dinged from the desk, alerting her to the fact that someone was witnessing this horrible interlude. Pratt was the first to look up and his face showed surprise. He shook his head when he saw the stranger’s eyes light in iridescent aqua. Pratt adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat.
Wondering what had him so quietly stunned, Ellie swiveled in her chair. She didn’t exactly make eye-to-eye contact, however. Nope. More like eye-to-lower-waist contact. Or better yet, eye-to-trim-and-muscled-lower waist contact. Slowly, her eyes traveled up the length of him until her neck cranked all the way back.
Wow. He was big. No, that word was too puny sounding to describe someone like him.
He was massive.
Herculean.
Black, conservative-short hair, and a strong defined chin, which looked like he was biting down on, made him attractive. Eyebrows curving over his aqua crystal-like eyes made him striking.
Oh, yea, he wasn’t just handsome. He was magnificent.
Eye candy.
Eyelashes, not too girly, but more than just the average masculine bunch, framed those beautiful aquamarines. He wore a long black trench coat and black clothes. So, he wasn’t much for color. She wore a lot of black, too, so who was she to judge? Black was slimming, and she needed all the help she could get.
Ellie noticed an odd tattoo below his left ear, on his neck. A quick scrutiny told her it was a symbol, or actually, more like a glyph. Weird, but sexy. Damned sexy.
She realized she was still staring at him, and he was staring angrily at Pratt. She cleared her throat.
“How may I help you, sir?”
His pointed gaze finally rested on hers and her skin broke out in goose bumps. She felt consumed by his eyes. He had this raw power that was overwhelming.
And he didn’t appear to be very happy.
“First, I want an apology from him to you,” he said, narrowing his eyes at Pratt again. She heard his accent and wondered where he was from. He refocused on her then, and said, “And then we’ll get on to the question that led me here to you.”
Richard fumbled. “I-I…yuh…don’t owe anyone an apology.”
Eye-Candy placed both paws, and yes, they were large paws, down on the counter and leaned forward. He gave Pratt a hard stare, and said, “I believe you owe her an apology, don’t you?” Ellie was looking confusedly at Pratt now, so she didn’t see the light flare from within the aqua depths of the stranger’s eyes.
Richard Pratt slowly nodded. “Yes, you’re right.” He looked down at Ellie but it didn’t seem to her as if he was really seeing her. “I apologize, Masters,” he said mechanically and walked towards his office.
She grimaced in confusion and turned to look at her gorgeous defender. She was surprised to find that aqua gaze focused on her now. It was unnervingly beautiful.
“Thank you for that, but you didn’t have to.”
“Yes, I did. He’s an asshole.”
When she smiled at him, a hesitant smile hovered on his lips, and broadened into a sexy, sincere grin. He had straight, white teeth- five points for him on her mental score sheet. Add that to the five points he already had for the gentlemanly way he handled Pratt in her defense. Hmmm… he was maxing out his pointage in her categories.
One of his eyebrows shot up as if he’d read her mind. That was absurd, of course.
“So what can I help you with?”
“I’m looking for informative books within a subject area.”
“Okay, what area?”
“Vampires,” he said, looking expectantly at her and Ellie looked up at him in surprise.
“What?” he asked, waiting for her response.
“Nothing…it’s not a topic usually asked about, that’s all. Except for wannabes and posers.”
“Wannabes? Posers? Do you have an aversion to vampires?” he asked, with a smile curving his lips.
“Not at all,” she said laughing, silently hoping she wouldn’t turn into a simpering idiot. “If they existed, they would be quite interesting to have a conversation with as long as they don’t eye your neck like a hungry man eyes a steak,” she said, looking up only to find him eyeing what little of her neck was exposed by her blouse.
She cleared her throat. “Alright, well, I don’t even have to look the topic up, because I can recommend some books.”
“How so?” he asked, turning his aqua gaze from her neck to her face. She was shocked silent by their beauty and intensity. Not usually so lighthearted, she got back down to business.
“I’m researching the topic- both for my dissertation and for my professor.”
“Research for your professor?”
“Yes. He’s writing a book.”
“As if there needs to be yet one more book inaccurately reporting on the lives of vampires,” he said sardonically.
She raised her blue gaze to his. “Not all books are inaccurate. Perhaps some are more sensationalized than others, but his won’t be.”
He paused before talking again. “You’re offended,” he said mildly surprised, narrowing his eyes.
“No, I’m not.” Rising, she placed the newspaper aside.
“And now you’re defensive.”
Her head snapped to look at him. “No, I’m not. Anyways, I’ll recommend four to start. Do you have a library card?”
“I’m not exactly ‘starting on the topic.’ I consider myself an expert. I’m researching how inaccurate most of the books portray vampires.”
She bit down hard on her tongue before her sarcasm got the best of her. Damn, he was arrogant. What? Does he think vampires actually exist, or once existed?
“No one can know for certain that vampires didn’t exist.”
“What?” she asked, annoyed that her thoughts showed so easily on her face.
He shook his head. “A library card?”
“Yes. To check out books, you need one. Let’s look you up.” She sat back down again. “What’s your first name?”
“Xander,” he said, waiting.
“Xander,” she repeated. His name spoken on her lips sent a fizzle of electricity through him. “I don’t think you would be found under a nickname, though, so let’s try Alexander.”
“No. Xander is my name.”
“Interesting and unusual name,” she said absently, while typing on the keyboard. Xander focused on her luscious lips as she mouthed his name silently a second time.
“What’s your name?” His voice was deep and
she heard the accent again.
“Ellie,” she said inattentively without pause, and after a moment, looked up at him. “With such an unusual name, Xander, I only looked you up by the first name but no results showed. What is your last name?”
“How did you spell my name?”
“Z-A-N-”
He smiled and her heart did a small flip. “That’s the mistake. It’s spelled with an ‘X.’ X-A-N-D-E-R.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“It happens.”
She shook her head in frustration. “Now the computer won’t let me search for first name only. What’s your last name?”
“Jones.”
She looked up at him, her smile teasing. Her eyes sparkled and he found himself eagerly anticipating her next question.
“Jones?” she repeated with a small bounce of her head.
“Yes, why?” he asked, keeping a straight face. He liked her, and more than he wanted to. She was cute.
“Were your parents trying to make up for a humdrum last name?”
At his feigned blank stare, she explained. “With a first name like Xander, one would expect a more extraordinary and exotic last name than the common ‘Jones.’”
He pursed his lips together.
“Oh, I’ve insulted you, I’m sorry,” she said, frowning.
Continuing to look insulted, he suddenly smiled.
“What?” she asked, shaking her head when nothing came up on the computer.
“I was kidding. My last name is Reihn.”
“Hmm. Xander Reihn. Very nice combination and unusual. Nice,” she said, smiling at him. Add five points- he had a sense of humor. She couldn’t help but smile as she tallied the score.
What was it now? Fifteen?
He tried to ignore the fizzle that ran through his veins again, a reaction to her sultry voice saying his name.
“What are you waiting for?” he asked, when she continued to stare at him expectantly.
To Have and to Trust (Heart of a Highlander Collection Book 1) Page 35
