Out with a Fang

by Jessica Sims

  I took a gulp of water, trying to dislodge the knot in my throat. Four years, and I still hadn’t moved past it. Maybe because I spent so much time alone at my job. In the slow moments, I thought about Michael. I wondered what he was doing. I had searched for him online at every social-networking website, but he was nowhere to be found.

  Maybe if I could find him, his hair receding, his gut paunchy, in a picture with a wife and two kids, that would cure me of my obsession.

  I scowled. How sad and pathetic I was to be mooning over a human—a human! Maybe I needed to be more like Jayde. At least she got around. And she dated everything—wolf, lion, tiger. You name it.

  Well, I thought with a grimace, not vampires. Jayde drew the line at that.

  I heard footsteps, then the swish of clothing that told me someone was approaching. The air shifted, and I caught an appealing new scent: spicy, with a hint of sweetness, mixed with the perfume of human flesh. I immediately stiffened.

  My vampire date was here.

  “Your hand,” a low voice murmured. There was an odd quality to his voice, as if it were somehow modified.

  The fangs? Maybe he was newly turned and struggled with controlling them? I pictured a vampire with buck teeth and quelled the hysterical giggle that rose in my throat.

  He waited, so I raised my hand and was surprised when he leaned over it to kiss the back of it. I felt the brush of teeth and jerked away.

  “I wouldn’t bite you without permission,” he rasped, his voice a bare whisper.

  “You’ll have to forgive me for being nervous,” I said dryly. “I’m not a fan of the blindfold bit.”

  “Yet I appreciate the gesture.”

  “You should,” I said, my tone sharp. “Sorry. I’m a little on edge. I’ve never dated someone who refused to let me see his face.”

  I heard his chair being drawn out, and his clothing rustled as he sat down. His hand touched mine on the table, as if he meant to hold it.

  I pulled away, noticing that his skin was cooler than mine. “That’s a little forward for a first date, isn’t it? How about we talk first?”

  Man, vampires were weird, and I apparently had a handsy one.

  “You look very nice tonight, Ruby.”

  I tilted my head a little, puzzled. His tone sounded a little more intimate than a stranger’s should. Or was I just imagining things? “Thanks. I’d say the same to you, but . . .” I gestured at the blindfold.

  He chuckled, and the sound made my body prickle with pleasure. Whoa. Down, girl. I’d heard that vampires could be very enticing, but that was . . . alarming.

  An awkward silence fell again. “Tell me about you,” he finally said. “Please.”

  Did he have a hint of a British accent? How had I missed that? I deflected, wanting to hear him talk more. “Oh, I’m just your average girl with a tail.”

  He chuckled again. “I believe I’m supposed to ask for your ID to confirm that.”

  I flipped my purse open, running my fingers over the cards in my wallet until I found one that had no raised numbers on it and offered it to him. “That’s either my driver’s license or my ID. Are my eyes open in the picture?”

  “They are.” He sounded amused.

  “Then that’s my Alliance ID.”

  There was a moment of quiet. “Were-jaguar?”

  “Yes,” I said, getting defensive. This was what usually made men run out the door. It was hard dating when your shifter side was at the top of the food chain. “Is that a problem?”

  “No, just surprising. I’d have thought you were something smaller . . . softer. Like a were-bunny.”

  I bristled. Who did this guy think he was? “Not funny.”

  “Then I apologize,” he said in that same odd voice I couldn’t figure out.

  “Uh-huh. I’d ask for your ID, but that seems useless, seeing as how I’m blindfolded.”

  “Ryder has vetted it prior to our date. And the ID would do you no good. Vampires don’t photograph, and my sketch does not do me justice.”

  “How can I confirm that you are one?”

  “Give me your hand again, and you can tell.”

  Despite my unease with him, I stretched my hand over the table, palm up. He’d have to place his hand in mine, not the other way around. There was that apex predator in me again, always needing the upper hand.

  To my surprise, he placed his hand in mine and waited. His fingertips were cool against my skin, his scent enveloped me, and it was impossible to think that he was anything but vampire.

  His thumb grazed the inside of my palm in a caress.

  Startled, I jerked my hand away. Were all vampires so grabby? I resisted the urge to flick out my claws to scare him and instead put my hand in my lap. Be nice, Ruby. I cleared my throat. “How long have you been a vampire?”

  “Four years. How long have you been a were-jaguar?”

  I forced a smile to my face, still feeling a little annoyed. “I’ve always been one. Most of us are born shifters. It’s rare that anyone is turned.”

  “I see,” he said in an odd tone.

  There was something he wasn’t telling me, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what it was. It was as if he knew something I didn’t and was judging my answers according to that. I didn’t like it. Plus, the damn blindfold was driving me crazy. I tugged at the scarf. “Can I take this off so we can have a real conversation?”

  “I would prefer you kept it on,” Valjean said. “As a favor to me.”

  Again, that odd lilt that seemed to come and go. Something he’d picked up in Europe?

  “Fine,” I said after a moment. “But I just want you to know I’m not enjoying this. I can’t get comfortable with my eyes covered.”

  “I think you’ll be more comfortable around me with it on,” he said cryptically.

  A twinge of sympathy shot through me. “If it’s about the teeth, I assure you that it’s not a big deal to me. I’m used to big canines hanging out of my own mouth.”

  “Still, this is what I prefer. It allows me to feast my gaze upon you without worry.”

  I squirmed uncomfortably, my nipples pricking at the thought. I hoped he didn’t notice that. I also hoped he wasn’t spending the whole evening staring at my boobs.

  “You are very beautiful,” he said in a soft, husky voice that sent a shiver through my body. “Any man would consider himself lucky to be sitting in my chair right now.”

  “Thank you, but I can’t date any man,” I said, a hint of bitterness in my voice. “I have to date Alliance.”

  Awkward silence. Probably not the wisest thing to say. This is why you’re single, I could hear Jayde saying. You’re too hung up on that human guy. Forget him.

  “So tell me about you,” I said, rushing into the awkward silence. “Is Valjean a family name? A nickname? Do you have a thing for musicals?”

  “It is a name I chose. It seemed appropriate.”

  “How so?”

  “A man betrayed on all sides, forced to live a double life . . .” He trailed off.

  “Betrayed?” I had to ask.

  “It is a long story, and one for a different day.”

  I rolled my eyes under the blindfold. This Valjean guy needed to get over himself. “Just thought I’d ask. It’s an unusual name.”

  “Didn’t you know? Vampires assume new identities. It helps us break our ties with our old lives.”

  There was something about him that bothered me, even as I found him appealing. I tilted my head, trying to put my finger on why his responses were unsettling to me. As I moved, I heard him inhale sharply across the table.

  I froze. Was he turned on by the sight of my neck? My entire body tingled with alarm . . . and a hint of arousal. That my slightest gesture could turn a man on so much was bizarre and heady.

  Not a man, I corrected myself. A vampire. That changed everything.

  Perhaps I’d misunderstood his reaction, though. The blindfold made it difficult to trust my senses, since there
was context that I was missing. As a test, I tilted my head further and brushed my long, curling hair over one shoulder, baring my throat. I tilted my chin slowly, working over to the other side as if stretching.

  I heard the barest hint of a groan, and he shifted in his chair, adjusting his clothing. As if it had become suddenly . . . too tight in one area?

  That pervert! “Okay, that’s it,” I said firmly, getting to my feet. I tugged at the knot at the back of my head. “I can deal with a lot of things, but I’m not going to sit here in the dark while you’re getting turned on by this freaking blindfold—”

  “Ruby, don’t—” the vampire began, his accent suddenly gone, his voice sounding oddly familiar.

  I popped my claws, sliced through the fabric, jerked the blindfold away, and stared at my date.

  Michael.

  Chapter Two

  When we’d first started dating, Michael had been this gorgeous, geeky god, and that hadn’t changed. Inky black hair covered his head in a rakish, thick swath. It was always a little too long on top, and when he dragged his hand through his hair, the black locks stuck up like wild spikes on top of his head. I’d been infatuated with those spikes; they made him look untamed. His face was as perfect as I remembered it, too—his cheekbones defined and arching, his brows dark slashes in an otherwise pale face, his jaw narrow but firm and currently clenched with anger. His eyes were beacons of pale green, and his mouth was full and sensual. He was every bit as muscled and hard as he was back when he was playing football in college. In the past, he’d always had a bit of a five o’clock shadow—that was gone now. His chin was completely smooth. He’d always had a tan in the past, too; that was also gone.

  He was a vampire.

  Michael was freaking undead. The blood drained from my face as I put things together. Four years, he’d told me he’d been a vampire. He must have been changed right after we’d broken up.

  My gaze narrowed, and I focused on his teeth. There was nothing wrong with them. Nothing at all.

  This date was all a setup. He hadn’t wanted me to see that it was him. He’d been sitting there, laughing at me as I was blindfolded and trying to act as if it was a real date. Disguising his voice so I wouldn’t be clued in that it was him.

  Why would he do such a thing? Just to mess with me? To get the upper hand and make me look like a fool?

  Fury pulsed through me. “What the fuck is this, Michael? Some sort of sick little game?”

  He stiffened in anger. “So what if it is, Ruby? Is it so different from the tricks you played on me when we were together?”

  So it was just to fuck with me. I threw the scarf at him, smacking him in the chest with it. “I never played games. I was always straightforward with you.”

  “Didn’t you? Because I seem to recall that your last words to me were ‘It’s not what it looks like, Michael.’”

  “Fuck you, Valjean,” I said coldly. I scooped up my clutch purse, which would make a great projectile when I launched it at his head. “Find some other woman to ogle while she’s blindfolded. I refuse to go along with your sick, perverted little vampire game.”

  I pushed my way through the restaurant, ignoring Ryder’s questioning call. So much for a little companionship. I was done with this. Out of here. Waiters and customers scurried out of my way as I stomped to the door, bristling with outrage.

  Outside on the sidewalk, I inhaled sharply, breathing in the clear night air. Odd how I’d enjoyed the slightly spicy, sweet vampire scent. I’d heard that was part of their charm, so attractive and appealing that normal, sane people let their guard down. I took a few steps down the street, stretching and letting the night air brush over my shoulders, and headed for the bus stop.

  “Stop!” Michael called. “Ruby, stop! I want to talk to you.”

  This evening was a waking nightmare. How many times had I dreamed of seeing him again? Of confessing my horrible misdeeds and having him forgive me? Of telling him that I’d always loved him and having him say the same back to me? The only thing Michael wanted was to fuck with me. I walked even faster.

  A cool hand grasped my arm.

  I turned and snarled. “What?”

  The wind ruffled his thick, unruly hair. He loomed over my smaller form, and I was struck anew at how beautiful he was. His features seemed refined in undeath. It suited him.

  I hated that.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” he said.

  “I’m leaving,” I bit back, jerking my arm away from him. That was the good thing about being a were-jaguar. He wasn’t stronger than me. “This was obviously a mistake. I’d say it was nice to see you again, but we’d both know that was a lie, right? So I won’t even bother.”

  “Don’t you think it’s unfair for you to leave so quickly?”

  I stopped and turned, furious. “Exactly how is this unfair?”

  “Don’t I get a kiss good night?”

  “Not as long as you have fangs in your mouth.” I stomped away. God, what was wrong with him? With me, for dreaming about him for so long?

  “Good-bye, Ruby,” he said softly, so softly I almost didn’t catch it.

  The bus pulled up to the curb in a noisy squeal, drowning out anything else he might have said. I paused. Why had his voice gotten so soft and thoughtful? Was it a vampire lure? I peeked over my shoulder and caught a man turning into an alley. Michael must have decided to stick to the shadows for his walk home. Valjean, I corrected myself with a curl of my lip, and turned to the waiting bus. Just then, a heavy shuffling and the sound of flesh striking flesh pricked my ears. A fight? It was coming from the alley.

  A trick?

  The wind shifted, and along with the heavy scent of car exhaust, I caught the smell of something odd and pungent. I scanned the strip of restaurants nearby. No Italian. How odd that I’d caught the thick scent of garlic—

  I gasped, then raced for the alley.

  Two men fought there, and I saw Michael slug a guy in a polo shirt. The other man reeled at the hit. Michael growled low in his throat—strange how sexy I found that sound—and pounced on the man.

  Irritation flashed through me. Was he taking out some hapless passerby in an alley out of a pissy fit of temper, or worse, because he was thirsty? I put my hands on my hips and tapped my foot. “Michael, this is so not cool.”

  Michael whirled around, and his eyes were so dark that for a moment, I thought there was something wrong with him. A hypodermic needle was sticking out of the side of his neck, and he yanked it out and tossed it to the ground. He staggered forward a step and raised a hand out to me. “Get out of here, Ruby,” he said in low, angry growl. “Leave!”

  Behind him, the man leaped onto Michael’s back and pushed another hypodermic into his throat. Michael shuddered, his eyes rolling back in their sockets, and he collapsed to the ground. The smell of thick garlic filled the air.

  I took a step forward. “What the hell is going on?”

  The man crouching over Michael stood. He was tall, with broad shoulders, a scruffy beard, and cuts on his face from where Michael’s fists had clearly done some damage. A dark sleeve of tattoos covered each of his arms. This didn’t seem like a botched feeding.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, approaching.

  He stepped in front of Michael’s sprawled form. “Collecting a bounty. Move along.”

  “Bounty?”

  “You need to mind your own business, lady. Move along,” he repeated, cracking his knuckles in a menacing way.

  I raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I should stop you.”

  “Now, sweetie,” he said, staring condescendingly down at me. “I’d hate for you to break a nail on one of your cute little hands.”

  Oh, was that how it was going to be? I moved forward, letting my eyes flash with moonlight like a cat’s.

  Recognition dawned on his face, along with a slow, evil smile that showed a pair of extremely long fangs. “What are you, a were-bunny? I’ve never tasted one. Tonight might be the night.
”

  God damn it, why did everyone think I was a were-bunny? I dropped my purse onto the ground and began to unbutton the front of my dress, letting the change ripple through my insides. “Try again.”

  “Were-kitten?” he said with a leer as I dropped my nice new dress to the ground and stepped out of it, then my shoes. “Or maybe a cute little were—”

  The words choked in his throat as I dropped to all fours and black-and-gold-spotted fur sprouted all over my body. My lashing tail distended immediately, and thick, curving claws grew from my fingertips. My teeth elongated and extended into sharp predator teeth. My shoulders hunched low, my hips sliding back to adjust for powerful hindquarters.

  “Oh, fuck,” he swore under his breath.

  And there it is, I thought smugly. Then the change fully overtook me, and my thought became of nothing but my jaguar until the transformation was done. When I opened my eyes and took a prowling step forward, he bolted down the alley.

  My inner cat went wild. I gave a chuffing little cry and sprang after him. As he raced down the alley I swiped at his back, toying with him. He yelped as my claws ripped his shirt open, exposing a back full of more tattoos. I sped up, nipping at his heels. I could break his neck and play with him, spring onto his back and sink my teeth into the fragile bones at the base of his head. A broken neck wouldn’t kill a vampire, but it’d be really fun to see the fear in his eyes as he realized he’d be mine to play with and destroy at my leisure.

  Sometimes there was a big upside to being an apex predator, I thought with a gleeful rush.

  A groan sounded behind me, and I skidded to a halt, flattening my ears, listening for another breath of sound.

  The tattooed man sensed my distraction and sped up, heading toward traffic.

  I could still catch him. If he got toward one of the main streets, I’d have no choice but to abandon the hunt. A big cat roaming downtown Fort Worth? Kinda noticeable. But he wasn’t faster than me. I could still spring on him, knock him to his back, snap his neck—

  The groan sounded again. Michael. I gave another chuffing cry of anger and turned back toward him.