“Good morning.”
Frowning at him, Brian growled, “How did I end up at the bottom of the cellar's stairs?!”
“That's a good question.”
“You don't know.” he could sense the indignation in Brian's voice.
“Not a clue...” sensing Brian's hostile gaze on him, Cirpian said, “It's possible that you had a mishap and that's how...” when Brian scoffed, he continued, “Brian you were always a little clumsy...like a little toddler, with two left feet.”
Angrily growling, he said, “I don't believe you...You know what I think?”
“What?” Cirpian nonchalantly looked over at him.
“I think you pushed me.”
“Now..., Brian...I would never do that to a friend.” when Brian sarcastically, snickered, he said, “How long have we known each other, Brian?”
“What does that have to do with anything...? All it proves is that you're a sick bastard, who gets off on pushing your friends down the stairs.”
“Ah...come on Brian...Besides, you held a blade to my throat...” when he felt Brian's hostile stare quickly change from that to shock, he said, “Do you remember anything since Saturday?”
“No.”
“Well then, that proves it...I didn't push you.”
“That doesn't prove anything!”
For that brief moment, neither one said anything.
When Cirpian eventually came over to where Brian was sitting, Brian couldn't help being somewhat surprised by how easily he maneuvered the appliances and furniture in his kitchen.
To anyone who didn't know Cirpian, they would automatically assume that he was not blind – hell the man could drive.
Cirpian was so good at getting around, that there were times, that Brian thought the whole blindness was in his old friend's head. That was until, though, he or someone else asked Cirpian to describe the scenery in front of him or the interior of his house. He would either make up what he thought was in front him, which was surprisingly accurate; with a little discrepancies. Or he would have someone describe to him what they saw, which helped him to imagine what was in front of him.
It was when Cirpian plopped down an envelope in front of Brian, that Brian was abruptly yanked out of his thoughts; so surprised was he by the suddenness of this envelope, that he was stun silent. At least, that is, until Cirpian said, “This is for you.”
Before opening the envelope, all Brian did was continue to surprisingly stare down at it – very much wary on what it could be. Yet, when he eventually did pick up and open the envelope, he was even more surprised by what was in the envelope than the envelope itself. At first, he couldn't help wondering if his eyes were in fact deceiving him.
Yet, once he was able to digest that it was in fact a plane ticket to Paris, his surprise was quickly replaced with that of anger. “Are you serious!” Brain threw down the ticket. “Paris!”
“I hear it's pretty this time of year.”
“Cirpian, I am not going to Paris!”
“Want to bet.” Cirpian, who had been leaning up against the breakfast nook, throughout their whole conversation, with his arms folded across his chest, made that short distance over to the kitchen table; and planting his palms squarely on the table, he leaned, menacingly, toward Brian. “You're going to Paris...If I have to drag your ass, kicking and screaming, on to that plane, then so be it.”
“I'm not going to Paris!”
Noting the adamant refusal in Brian's voice, Cirpian decided to come at this from a different approach. “Brian, it's either you go to Paris or...” he stood to his full height. “you spend the rest of your life; locked away in my wine cellar.”
Frowning at him, Brian said, “Why would I need to be locked or sent away?”
“Because you're a danger to yourself and that sweet Jewel Freemen.”
“Who's Jewel Freemen?”
“Your AB-.”
If Cirpian had had his sight, he probably would have noticed how surprised Brian was. Instead, all he could sense was Brian's surprise. And there was this strange odor about him, that even a blind human wouldn't have been able to pick up – acceptance.
“So, her name is Jewel Freemen?”
“Yes.”
“And you think that I'm a threat to her?”
“I don't think...I know.” when Brian just sat there staring at him, Cirpian said, “You're suffering through the worst case of blood lust that I've ever felt in any vampire, which is surprising, because I would have thought that blood lust was only experienced by fledgelings...I guess, in your case, that's not true.”
Frowning at him, Brian said, “I'm not going to Paris...I don't want to go...I don't like Paris.”
“Tough..you're going.”
Turning, Cirpian hastily walked out of the kitchen. As he made his way to his library, he heard Brian yell, “I still think you pushed me!”
Not turning around, Cirpian yelled back over his shoulder, “Prove it!”
As Brian sat there in the kitchen, just simmering with rage, he angrily slammed his fist on the kitchen table. It was that forceful blow, that had the wood underneath his fist splintering.
The bastard couldn't force him to go.
Yet, he knew deep down, that wasn't true. If the mood struck him to do so, Cirpian wouldn't have even wasted time thinking about it – he would have just killed Brian. Brian supposed he should have considered himself lucky, that Cirpian hadn't come to that conclusion – to protect this innocent Jewel Freemen, kill his old friend, Brian Cailean. Instead Cirpian had decided to just get rid of Brian by sending him away.
Well, so long as Brian had anything to say about, he was going to find a way to come back. He'd go to Paris..., but he'd come back and claim his prize. And if he had to, he'd drag his little prize all the way to somewhere where Cirpian wouldn't find them.
Chapter Thirteen
Soon after dropping a disgruntle Brian off at the airport, Cirpian drove his SUV through the thick Tucson traffic. It was ridiculous how bad the traffic was.
While there were times that he really wished he had his sight, driving through a congested city like Tucson was one of those times that he was actually glade at being blind.
It was no lie that he hated Tucson, yet he needed to be in this city. The one reason was, that there were tons of fledgelings popping up. The last time he had come through Tucson, and headed west toward Nevada, he had not noticed, on that brief visit, as many fledgelings as there were now. Now there seemed to be a new sect every where he looked; he had had to decapitate a group in an abandoned warehouse approximately seven nights ago.
Yet, while killing bloodthirsty, evil, fledgelings was nothing new to him, now his main concern was hunting down this superior vampire, who was responsible for creating these fledgelings; this master vampire was using the crime rate in Tucson, to his or her full advantage.
The conclusion that Police would most likely come to, was that because of the neighborhood that the victims had been found in, that they had been a victim of either a violent crime or drug abuse.
Just knowing how violent fledgelings could get, when suffering through blood lust, thirst, or both, he knew he had to stay in Tucson for awhile.
Yet, nothing said that he couldn't have some pleasures living here; like living on the outskirts of Tucson—up in the Arizona mountains.
The moment he pulled into Genevieve's apartment complex and parked, his senses were tingling from all the pollution and consistent chatter that was in the air.
Before getting out of his car, he tried focusing his mind on something pleasant; that would help with tapering down on his frustrations. It was as he was taking deep breathes, that he smelled her. It was her familiar, provocative, scent, that ultimately helped with bring down his frustration. Yet, he now had another problem, his vampire scenes were now all a tingling and his fangs were practically protruding from his gums.
She was close and, for that brief moment, when he looked up and in the direction that he sensed
her, he thought he saw a faint black outline – with shades of light mixed in. Yet, no sooner was the outline there, was it instantly replaced by that familiar darkness.
It had taken centuries for him to finally become comfortable in this blackness. During that time, he had become content over not having to see anyone or see what man kind had done to his surroundings. Now, though, he was frustrated by the darkness that greeted him. He would have given anything, including his very soul, just to lay his eyes upon his delectable Genevieve.
Irritably sighing, he tapped his fingers upon his vehicle's wheel. He could go home, yet he couldn't bear the thought of hurting Genevieve; it seemed like men constantly did that to her – they either hurt or disappointed her. Before he made a move to get out of his car, he reined in his desperation. It was not wise to become too obsess over this thought of wanting to look upon her with seeing eyes rather than unseeing eyes. Besides, he might find himself in the same situation as Brian.
It was this thought, that again had him wondering if it was even wise to pursue a relationship with Genevieve. Yet, before he could think more upon it, he got out of his vehicle.
It was as he walked past her car, that the intensity of her scent almost knocked him over; he could smell her sweet blood and that subtle perfume that she wore.
As he followed his nose, like a bloodhound, he made his way to her apartment.
Even if he had wanted to leave, which he didn't, it was his forsaken soul's yearning for a good woman to make him feel whole, that prevented him from doing so.
XXX
Genevieve hadn't gotten home, but two hours ago and, after taking a quick shower, she hastily ran her comb through her damp, curly, hair.
Once she had gotten dress, she scrutinized herself in her bathroom mirror. It was that absurd hope that he liked her summer flowered dress, that had her sarcastically snickering at her reflection in the mirror.
What did it matter if he did or didn't?
He couldn't see her.
She could leave her apartment butt naked and he wouldn't care.
Yet, for some strange reason, knowing that she would be with him, out in public, had her self-conscious.
While those other douches' opinions of her hadn't mattered; for some reason, his did. Shrugging, she quickly put on a pair of sandals and the moment she heard that distinctive knock on the door, she, grabbing her purse off the bed, hurried into the living room.
The moment she flung open the door, she was blown away by how good he looked. His hair had this glistening star like appearance to it and his eyes complimented the suit that he wore.
It was as she was appreciating how his black suit clung to his perfectly muscular body, that she subconsciously licked her lips. He definitely had a delectable, foreign, appeal to himself – she could have looked at him for hours and never gotten bored.
She had never seen a man that looked quite like him – there was something other worldly about him. As if he had stepped out of some other time period.
It was hard to pull her gaze away from him. For she found herself itching to touch his hair – to feel those soft strands go through her eager fingers.
When her gaze eventually returned to his, she instantly blushed at his heated expression.
Was it possible that he knew that she was undressing him?
“You smell amazing...” pulling her into his arms, he brushed her hair away from her shoulders.
As he nuzzled her neck, he breathed in her scent—she had that subtle smell of lavender and vanilla.
“Wow...” he groaned. “You smell amazing.”
Giggling, Genevieve said, “You already said that.”
Smiling at her, he said, “Did I mention that you smell really amazing?”
“No.”
“Well, you smell really amazing.”
It was that heated look in his eyes, that had Genevieve thinking of something ten times better than just dinner; she, right at that moment, wanted to jump his bones.
It was this thought, that had her hastily grabbing him by the arm, and pulled him out of her apartment. Granted she wanted to sleep with him right then and there. Yet, she knew that she couldn't very well go to bed with a guy that she barely knew. And then try to pursue a relationship with him soon after. In this day and age, it just wasn't possible.
After she locked her door, they headed downstairs to his car.
The moment Genevieve saw his silver Mitsubishi Outlander, she was blown away by it.
Now there was an automobile!
She had always been picked up in the typical sports cars, that were harder than hell to get out of or into; where she ended up bumping her head on the low ceiling and the edge of the car door.
As he helped her into his SUV, she smiled at the innocent way his hand rode up her skirt.
Once he, himself, had gotten in the driver's side, she marveled at how agile he was; just swinging himself into his Outlander, without even breaking a sweat or straining himself.
It was when he put his key in the ignition, though, that that fascination of hers abruptly changed from that to surprise; a blind man was getting ready to drive her to dinner.
Now, why did that not worry her?
After warming his vehicle up, he pulled out of her apartment complex.
As he drove, Genevieve couldn't help, but admire how he was able to sense every traffic signal—red, green, yellow lights, and etc.
He was probably the best driver, that she had ever been in the car with. The way he kept the car on the road, always turning his turn signal on, when he was about to turn and using the appropriate spacing between cars. If he hadn't mentioned his blindness that last Saturday, she would have sworn that he had his sight.
“You're amazing.” she blushed at the awe in her voice.
“You're not too bad, yourself.” when she laughed, he said, “How's the Cheesecake Factory?”
Frowning at him, she inquired, puzzlingly, “You mean for dinner...?”
When he smiled, that heart shattering smile of his, she thought that she would melt; right there in that seat—now that would be embarrassing.
“Yea, of course...” while keeping his left hand on the wheel, he took his right hand and gently skimmed his fingers up and down her left arm; causing this, involuntary, pleasurable, shiver to rake through her. “I hear it's a good restaurant.”
“It is...” after taking a deep breathe, to steady her voice, she said, “I've been there once before...” mumbling to herself, “I almost put myself in debt...” when he quizzically smiled, she, looking over at him, said, “One of my last dates dumped and stiffed me there.”
Laughing, he brought her hand to his lips. “I won't do that to you..., Genevieve.”
XXX
“Tucson looks better from up here...Beautiful, in someways.”
“Hmmm...” he smiled as she snuggled up next to him on the blanket.
Dinner had been great, they had talked about both of their professions. Himself being a businessman, an antique dealer, which he hadn't gone into much detail. And her life and experience as a homicide detective.
From what Cirpian could sense, though, Genevieve wasn't particularly happy with her boss. Yet, she didn't want to discuss what it was that her boss was making her so unhappy about.
After dinner, Cirpian had decided to take a detour and they had driven up into the mountains. The side road, that they had taken, was not but a few miles to Mount Lemmon.
Now they laid snuggled up together, watching the Tucson lights blinking like little fireflies.
“Genevieve...,” she turned around in his arms to look at him. “could you describe to me...what the lights look like?”
It was the innocent way he asked her to do this, that had her again feeling guilty. She had, for the third time, that night, forgotten that he was blind.
Not only was it his innocent request, but just the intensity of his inquisitive eyes, finally had her saying, “Yea...okay.” taking a deep breathe, she looked back at
the lights. “There are these yellowish, orange, lights set against a black back drop...” looking at him, she noted his stoic expression. “I'm confusing you...aren't I...? I've always been horrible at this...describing...I've never been good at describing scenery...”
“No...” he smiled at her. “I can...kind of imagine it.”
Smiling, she snuggled into the secure embrace of his arms as he wrapped them around her. As they sat there for a few minutes more, she finally said, “Do you know what fireflies look like?” when he kissed the top of her head, she said, “That's what the lights remind me of.”
Chapter Fourteen
The kiss had been spontaneous.
From the moment his mouth touched hers, she was instantly taken off guard. Yet, while the kiss, itself, was surprising; her liking it, wasn't.
As they stood on her apartment's stoop, inches away from her door, Genevieve suddenly felt this impatient need to pull Cirpian inside with her. Just from the sensual way his tongue parted her lips, and, he conquered her senses, had her desiring nothing more than for him to take her; she wanted to feel his touch on her naked flesh.
Who cared if they barely knew each other. Or that this was, in fact, the first date.
Granted it was never a good sign to have sex with a man on the first date. Yet, if she was willing to do the math, which she wasn't, because she hated math and only used it to balance her checkbook, this date was, in fact, her second with Cirpian – that is if one counted that evening with him at his house, with her sisters.
While there had been other men before him, that she had felt lust for and who, like him, knew how to touch her, it was in Cirpian's arms, that she felt emotions that she hadn't even known existed. She couldn't quite put her finger on what it was. All she knew was that she was desperate for him – desperate for his caresses, his kisses, and the sensual feel of his embrace.
Was it possible to feel inflamed for a man? To feel like one's soul was about to combust?
The Alexandru Chronicles: The Beginning Page 10
