Now it’s been two days, and she hasn’t contacted me. I’ve thought of her nonstop, and as it turns out, vampires get anxiety, an emotion I don’t recall experiencing. I’m nervous and agitated, finding myself running my hands through my hair, pacing incessantly. My need to act is overwhelming, so I decide to reach out to her. When she doesn’t pick up the phone, I angrily press the end call button, not leaving a message. I miss the days when I could slam the phone receiver back into the cradle with frustration. Pressing the button on my smartphone isn’t nearly as satisfying. Throughout the day, I try calling her several times, leaving no messages. I’m not sure what to say on her voicemail, and I want to hear her voice.
It occurs to me that she may be conflicted still. I’m quite certain that my plan to help children in Las Vegas appeals to her emotionally, but she could also be trying to figure out how to handle her father. She has a superficial exterior, but I know I’ve touched her in some way. How do I know? I couldn’t begin to explain, but I know.
So, I rack my brain for a plan B. It’s clear that I haven’t impressed her quite enough to take the initiative in contacting me herself, or she’s still scared. I surmise that more effort is the only way to get in her good graces, as I’ve given her plenty of time to mull it over on her own. A more aggressive approach is the next phase. I look for her, not so I can confront her directly, but so I can watch and learn more about her. What she likes. What she desires. Besides me. I know she desires me, but she isn’t ready for that. It’s not hard to find her, even in a city this size. A connection of some kind draws me to her, like an electromagnetic pull. It would trouble me if I didn’t like it so much; seeing her is like getting a fix.
I find her at the mall, with her vampire friendly acquaintance, shopping. I’ve become quite the detective these days, on a stakeout more or less, just watching and listening to her. Her smile is like sunshine. It infects everyone who she comes in contact with, myself included. I watch her interact with salespeople, she’s kind to everyone. She looks everyone in the eye, takes her time with her exchanges, and is thoughtful in her responses.
When her friend asks where the third amigo is, Fiona replies, a guilty tone in her voice. “I didn’t ask Leslie to come.”
“Why not?” Lana asks, seemingly shocked.
“Well, because I’m kind of tired of being lectured about the monster vampires, and I’m simply not up for it today.”
“Ooh, did something happen with Roman?” She emphasizes my name.
“Not exactly.” I watch her hesitate and think about her next words carefully. “I mean sort of. We had lunch together a couple of days ago, and we talked.”
Giddy with excitement, Lana claps her hands together. “Did you fuck him?” Her enthusiasm for banging vampires is almost over the top, even for a vampire. I wonder if it is that big of a difference? I know that vampires are more viral, more alluring; we can go far longer than our mortal counterparts, but I’d never fucked a vampire before I was a vampire myself. Lana’s excitement leads me to believe there is a significant difference, and my mind wanders to giving Fiona the pleasure that Lana is clearly experiencing.
Slapping her friend on the arm, Fiona lets out a stifled laugh. “No! We had lunch. And we talked. That’s it. But…”
“But what? You want to bang him. That’s obvious.”
“I don’t know about that. But, I learned some things that have made me think that maybe your way of... open-minded thinking is far more who I am. Certainly more so than what my parents taught me. I feel like I have been brainwashed by my dad, and I think Roman is a nice guy.”
I give a small fist pump to the air hearing this. My plan seems to be working. What started as winning the bid, has turned into winning the girl.
“So, explain how you had lunch with a vampire. They don’t eat. And then tell me why he’s a nice guy. And if that’s the case, why are you not banging him yet?”
“Really Lana, you’re nothing but a sex kitten these days aren’t you?”
“Maybe, but this isn’t about me. Spill!”
“Well, he’s a gentleman first of all. He’s done nothing but try to make me see that he’s not some kind of monster, but it’s more than that.”
“Like what?”
“Well, he asked me to read his business proposal. So, I did. And you’re never going to believe what he wants the casino for.”
“I’m on the edge of my seat!”
“He wants to use it to fund a place that houses the homeless and helps foster kids. Like he wants to use the money to help humans.”
“Get the hell out of here.” Lana sounds shocked. Why they all think none of us give a fuck about their well being is beyond me. We all live in the same society for Christ’s sake. It’s doesn’t give me much joy to see homeless people, or to see children suffer, just because I can’t have my own. Vampires have a soul. Folklore and propaganda have really fucked us over the years. It makes me sad to see anyone suffer; I hope that she sees this in me soon.
“I’m dead serious. He wants to use the money to help people. I wish I could help him, I really do. But my dad is never going to listen.”
“Well, that may be the case now, but you don’t know that it will always be that way.” Lana sounds optimistic, which could be good.
“I don’t think so. My dad would kill me himself if he knew that I had lunch with a vampire in the first place. Anyway, he’s tried calling me a few times, and I haven’t taken his calls.”
“Well, why the hell not?”
“Because I can’t help him, and that’s all he wants anyway.” My jaw drops at her words.
Fuck. No. That’s not all I want! I want to run over there and tell her that’s not my only desire, but I know I can’t give up my hiding spot. She’d probably be super pissed that I was stalking her on a regular basis, to begin with.
“What even makes you think that? From what you have said and hinted at, I think there’s more to this little thing than you realize.”
Yes! Listen to your friend, Fiona! She knows what she’s talking about.
“Well, ultimately, I can’t help him. I’m not going to call him back. It’s nothing but asking for trouble. Even if he does seem like a great guy.”
“I think you’re cutting your nose off to spite your face. Frankly, you should give this a bit of a chance. It wouldn’t kill you, pardon the pun, to get out with someone besides clients and me and Leslie. You haven’t dated in forever, and I think - no, I know - you’re missing out.”
I like this Lana. I need to send her some flowers or something. She’s a good friend, and smart. Fiona doesn’t reply, and it looks like that is the end of the conversation for now. I decide to follow them around some more. It’s time to step up my courtship game, high society style. While I’m mildly offended that Fiona thinks all I want is her dad’s signature on my papers, I can also see why she might think that. I thought we had more of a connection at lunch though, and I’m hoping that what I’ve got planned now will, at the very least, show her that I’m a man of action.
I trail the ladies to the next store, observing their activities and purchases. Finding out what Fiona likes, what she doesn’t like, what she wants, but thinks is too expensive or what she’s not sure about. When they leave the first store, a jewelry store, I approach the young man at the counter and ask what the ladies were looking at.
“The ladies who just left?” He looks at me, confused.
“Yes. Well actually, just the blonde. With the stunning blue eyes.”
He smiles at me and nods his head, waving me over to a display. He pulls out a tray with platinum necklaces on it.
“She was looking at this one.” He points to a dainty chain from which a tiny Egyptian ankh dangles. He smirks as it hits me. He already knew.
“You’re sure, this is the one she was looking at?” I stare at the tiny symbol, recalling history.
“I’m sure, sir.” He has realized that the significance has dawned on me.
“I’l
l take it.”
“Right away, sir.” He walks off to wrap up my purchase.
The Egyptian ankh, also known as the key of life, has long been a vampiric symbol. It originated as a cross with a handle, or crux anksata in Latin. Its meaning is eternal life. The progeny of vampires are dated back as far as time from ancient Greece. However, the ankh was a symbol found in hieroglyphics representing our culture in ancient Egypt. That is not a well known, or common fact. She’s been doing her research.
I take my purchase, and follow the ladies from store to store, making purchases that demonstrate my attention to detail, and how I desire for her to have the things that she wants. But this necklace, it is special. And she will have it.
10
Fiona
“So what are your plans for the rest of the day?” I ask Lana in between bites of my Cobb salad. We’ve spent the day shopping and dodging Leslie. It’s not that I wanted to spend the day without her, it’s that I wanted to spend the day without her and Lana arguing. From the moment I met up with Lana, it’s been my intention to ask her more about her vampire boyfriend, but I have yet to broach the subject.
I don’t want to look like I’m eager for information, but I want to be well-educated. It’s not that I’m interested in Roman because I’m not. I’m curious about… well, all of it. Vampires are stronger than humans are, so how does that work when it comes to sex? And what about eating? If you’re having sex with one, does that give them permission to bite you?
“Fiona?”
“FIONA!”
“What? I’m sorry,” I say as I shake my head. My fork falls from my hand, and I try to catch it before it crashes into my bowl, but end up batting it toward Lana instead. “Sorry,” I mutter, reaching across the table to pick up my utensil. Ever since I met Roman, I’ve done nothing but think about sex, and sex with him. This isn’t normal for me, and he’s to blame. He has me under some vampire spell or something, which I’d like to point out, is against the law.
Would Roman stoop so low as to compel me to do his bidding? Is that how compulsion works? It’s the only explanation as to why I can’t get him off my mind. Unfortunately, it’s working on me, but he’d have to do this to my father as well and considering how my dad feels, he’d probably try to drive a stake through Roman’s heart.
“What is going on?” Lana reaches across the table and holds my hand. “You’ve been… off all day. Did you and Shan hook up or something? Are you pregnant?”
“Lana!” I look around and make sure no one’s paying attention to us. My dad’s friends are everywhere, and the last thing I need is for rumors to start about me. “God no, I’m not pregnant,” I say through clenched teeth.
“So what gives?” she asks, sitting back.
I shrug and motion for her to lean forward. “It’s Roman.”
“I knew you slept with him.”
Shaking my head, I say, “I have not nor do I plan to, but I can’t get him off my mind, and I want to know if you feel the same way about your friend at the gym.”
“Do you think he’s compelling you? Because that’s a huge no-no. My friend says their rules are strict and their creator doesn’t want to go through the mass exodus again.”
“Mass exodus?”
Lana brushes me off and scoots her chair next to mine. “Tell me everything.”
“There isn’t anything to tell, Lana. I just feel… I don’t know. I think about him all the time, and I don’t know him. When I close my eyes, he’s there. He’s in my dreams, and I feel like he’s watching me all the time. He knows things too. Like where to find me.”
“Enhanced hearing, plus he’s probably bored during the day, so he’s listening for you. My friend says we each have a distinct sound and once they hone in on it, they can pretty much follow our voices until they’ve found us. It’s like GPS for vamps or something.”
“So he can just show up whenever he wants?”
“Yes and no,” Lana says, shrugging. “They have to be within a mile or so of the person they’re looking for.”
I sit back and sigh. “This is all so creepy. Do you know how crazy this is making me? Last night I went to a casino and tried to compel a vampire. Like, who does this? Me,” I say, pointing to my chest. “Why did I have to meet him?”
Lana picks a piece of avocado out of her salad and drops it into her mouth. After she licks her fingers, she smiles. “You know everything happens for a reason.”
“Maybe for Roman, but not for me. He sought me out because of who my father is, and now I can’t get him off my mind.”
“Is he hot?” My mouth drops open, and her smile widens. “Tell me!”
“Ugh, I don’t want him to be, but Lana, he is. Everything about him seems perfect, and I know it’s to entice humans, yet I can’t stop thinking about his black hair and what it’d feel like to run my fingers through it, or to stare into his vibrant blue eyes. He’s been made to be this good-looking man and deadly creature. It’s a no-win situation.”
Our waitress approaches our table asking if we need a refill on anything. When we tell her no, she leaves the bill on the table and tells us to take our time. I glance around my favorite restaurant, loving the outside seating with the ivy weaved throughout the pergola, offering the perfect amount of shade.
“Are you going to let your father dictate your life?”
“Not everyone is like your parents, Lana.”
“You’re right, I’m very lucky. However, you’re an adult, with a college education. Just think, you could tell daddy dearest no and actually get a job and put your degree to use. You’d be able to move back to California.”
“You’d miss me,” I tease her. She’s right though, Vegas is nothing more than a stop over for me. The only reason I’m here is because of my father, and truthfully, I’d really like to put my marketing degree to work.
Lana and I part ways on the Strip, kissing each other on the cheeks. When I asked her what she’s going to do, she told me she has a date with her vampire. Of course, she winked and headed toward the gym she works out at. I was tempted to follow her so I could watch her interact with this man, but my mind isn’t right, and I don’t want to embarrass her.
Instead of taking a cab home, I decide to walk. The streets are ridiculously busy, and by the time I reach my hotel, I’ve been hit, jostled, and pushed by tourists rushing from casino to casino or trying to find a prime spot to watch the Bellagio fountains.
“Good evening, Ms. Weston,” the bellhop says. I smile and thank him for holding the door that’ll lead me to a private elevator, which goes directly to the penthouses. Waiting for the lift is my neighbor, who eyes me up and down. He’s married, and here he is, trying to pick his tongue up off the ground. My stranger danger radar is going off, causing me to turn on my Jimmy Choo’s and head back toward the door. “Everything okay, Ms. Weston?”
“Yes, I decided to run down to the little shop for a snack.” I’m not hungry, but I’m not getting into the elevator with my sleazy neighbor either. Lord knows what could happen. Down at the store, I grab some candy and a bottle of water. Two things I do not need but feel it’d be rude to not buy something. This is how I spent most of my day shopping with Lana. Touching things I want, but couldn’t bring myself to buy for no rhyme or reason.
Walking through the casino is never my idea of a good time, but this is one of the rare hotels that actually has its elevators near the check-in, meaning travelers don’t have to push their luggage through a carpeted space jam-packed with gamblers. I know, it’s all a ploy to get the tourists to stop and put money down on the table, but there are people who would like to get to their room without breaking a sweat.
The public elevator is full of young drunk co-eds, having the time of their lives. This used to be me. My sorority sisters and I would pack up for the weekend and come over, staying in luxurious suites, partying it up all night and sleeping all day. Mondays used to be such a drag.
I’m the last one left as the lift heads to the top
floor. After the day I’ve had, I can’t wait to slip into something comfortable and crash out on my couch with some chick flick determined to remind me true love does exist.
As soon as I open my door, I know my plan for the night isn’t going to happen. Immediately, I start to sneeze, and my eyes begin to water. The gladiolus, roses, snapdragons, and irises are all beautiful, but I’m allergic, and I have no idea how they ended up in my suite.
In a panic, I rush to my balcony to seek out some fresh air, tripping over a box on the floor. Holding my breath, I glance around and see every few feet there are black, blue and turquoise boxes all over my living room. I struggle to get the terrace door open, and once I do, I inhale dry air, which doesn’t do much for me. Thankfully, I had the wherewithal to hold onto my purse and am able to find an allergy pill to swallow with my newly bought bottle of water. “What the hell?” I mutter as I dial the front desk.
“What can I do for you, Ms. Weston?”
“Come get these damn flowers out of my house. It says right there in my file that I’m allergic, so I want to know who opened my door so the damn florist could try and kill me!”
“Um…”
“Um isn’t an answer. Come get these before I die.” I hang up the phone and squeeze my legs together as I battle through another round of sneezing. My eyes are sealing shut, and my nose is running. “I can’t believe someone would do this to me.” I’m on the verge of tears and desperate to be able to breathe.
Roman (The Clutch Series Book 1) Page 6
