Charlee dropped her purse on the couch and went to the kitchen. She let out a startled cry when she opened the refrigerator door. Stacked in neat rows on the top shelf were clear plastic medical bags of blood.
Jane poked her head into the room. “Oh, yeah. Guess you’re dating a real vampire. Greg won’t drink straight from the source. He says it’s immoral and that vampires could be out of the coffin if they all bagged it.”
So was Charlee staying with a bad vampire then? Despite wanting to kill Anthony less than an hour ago, now that she was labeling him as such, she couldn’t quite get behind it. Like maybe he wasn’t goodness and light, but surely he couldn’t be the worst out there either.
“I’m not dating him.” She reached behind one of the bags for an apple and a jar of peanut butter. Not exactly breakfast food, but it looked good.
“Oh. Sorry. So you’re like a pet then? Does your master have other pets?”
Charlee whirled around at that. Was this chick serious? The pink hair dye must have rotted out her brain. Pet? Um, no. “I’m not his pet.” Gross.
She got an awful image of a glassy-eyed woman with multiple bite marks wearing lots of red and black latex. She was most definitely not Anthony’s pet. He hadn’t even bitten her, except for that one time she couldn’t remember. Well, probably the one time. Damn, another point for not that incredibly evil.
“You’re his what then?”
“I’m not his anything. I’m just staying with him for a few days. Look, could we not talk about Anthony?” She’d found a knife and cutting board and busied herself cutting up the apple.
“Anthony?”
The tone of Jane's voice was so sharp, Charlee missed and sliced her finger. “Ow!”
“Damn, Anthony. He’s on Greg’s list of top five bad guys that should not get into power. I hear about it on a nightly basis.”
Charlee bent over the counter, holding her hand with her eyes tightly shut. When the initial pain subsided, she rinsed her finger under the tap, hissing as the pain flared to life again. Then she wrapped it in a damp paper towel and took her apple and peanut butter to the table.
“Holy crap!” Jane squealed a few minutes later. She looked up guiltily from where she was bent over the spilled contents of Charlee’s purse. “I went to sit down, and it fell over. And holy crap this is a bunch of money. Like hell you’re not his pet. What did you do to earn this?” She looked up, accusation in her eyes.
Charlee was sure her face was completely blanched, and was even more sure that if Jane, Miss My-boyfriend-is-a-vampire thought she’d done special favors for the money, the guardian probably thought she had too. Just great.
And judging from her attire, who could she blame? Apparently she really dug the slutty look. It was all that had been in her closet. She was wearing hip-hugging blue jeans and a low-cut red halter top. The outfit said come bite me.
She’d added a pair of sparkly silver flip flops to try to tone it down some. The effort had obviously failed. Probably no one’s eyes were making it all the way down to her feet.
“Man, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
She took a deep breath. Jane was nice enough, though she clearly had a couple of issues. Charlee could see immediately why she’d thought the woman was younger than she was. The punky look she sported would fit better on a high school student. Her manner of talking and walking all broadcasted a lack of maturity most women in their twenties had outgrown. She wondered what had caused Jane to become so stunted.
“It’s no problem. He just gave me some money. I have no idea why. I didn’t earn it as you put it. I said I’m not his pet.”
Jane nodded. “Not his pet. Got it. We could get out of here and go shopping if you want?”
Why not? Everybody seemed to think she was his little concubine. She may as well be compensated for the embarrassment.
Anthony rolled over, jolted from sleep as a wet slobbery tongue explored his face. He shoved the dog off him and sat up groggily. Why was he still tired? Vampires weren’t tired when it was time to get up. They just got up, wide awake. Unless they’d been injured.
The clock on the bedside table said 8:05. Shit! Anthony leapt out of the bed and ran a hand through his hair.
The sun had set over an hour ago.
“Charlotte?”
The penthouse was silent.
He was starved. What the fuck? He’d overslept; he was tired; he was hungry. This hadn’t been normal since his fledge days. “Charlotte!”
Her bedroom was empty. He caught his reflection in the mirror, the demon rippling over him, as a glowing red light emanated from his hand. He looked down to see an ugly red cross-shaped burn. Charlotte? Would she do that?
He didn’t know who the hell else would have done it. He tried to think why, other than the obvious vampire part. Maybe he would have been better off erasing her memory. It wasn’t as if the problem could get any worse, and it wasn’t possible for it to get better as far as he knew.
The hunger burned and writhed like a living thing inside his belly.
He had to find Charlotte. He’d told her he loved her. How could he have said something so stupid? What was he thinking? He couldn’t love her. He was fond of her, yes. But not love. That was insanity. He quickly threw some clothes on and headed for the elevator.
He was sure he’d be able to track her; he just hoped it wasn’t too late, that something else hadn’t gotten hold of her first. He could still smell her scent in the hallway. She had to have just been there. Then he heard her laughter and let out a breath. She was in the building, one floor down. Excellent.
When he reached apartment 5D, he banged on the door. “Charlotte! Open this door.”
There was a scuffling sound and sharp whispers. He could smell Charlotte’s fear, then heard Gregory say, “It’s all right, dear, you don’t have to go with him. You’re safe here.”
Like hell she could stay with the bagged-blood reject. Anthony banged on the door again. “This is not your business, Gregory. How would you feel if I were holding your girl hostage?”
The other vampire spoke in a placating tone through the door. “She is not a hostage; she’s perfectly welcome to leave at any time.”
“Open the door or I’ll go to the front desk and get a key.”
“How very civil of you. Wouldn’t want to rip the door off its hinges in front of the girl.”
Anthony gritted his teeth, holding back a growl. He could feel his fangs pushing through the gums, his hunger tearing through him. He kicked the door in and made a beeline for the refrigerator. He took a bag of blood and ripped through it with his fangs, gulping the cold liquid, then a second and a third.
Finally, he stopped and wiped the blood from his chin with a dish towel. “I don’t know how you drink this shit. I think I might vomit.”
Gregory stood in the kitchen doorway, Charlotte hidden protectively behind him with a second girl that looked like a vampire groupie. Boy had she picked the wrong vamp if that was her thing.
Gregory gaped. “Why . . . why . . . ” He pointed at the blood bags lying on the table and the small drops of blood that had found their way to the linoleum.
“Why . . . why . . . what? I was hungry. Starved, in fact.” He tossed a glare toward Suspect Number One for the cause of his hunger. “Charlotte, let’s go.”
She stayed hidden behind Gregory. “I don’t know if I should.”
Anthony rolled his eyes. “Has he told you why I’m the most evil of all the evil vampires except Linus?”
She hesitated, “Yes, but . . . ” He caught her looking at his hand. It wasn’t as if there had been any question who’d done it, but the confirmation she’d tried to harm him when he’d been resting, rankled. He would never have done the same to her.
“I explained to you last night why you had to stay at the penthouse. Gregory wouldn’t be able to protect you.”
The other vampire dropped into a fighting stance and kicked out. He may as well have been a human the way he telegraphed the movement. Anthony reached out and grabbed his ankle, twisting until he fell to the ground. He bent and wrapped his hand around Gregory’s throat.
“As I said . . . he wouldn’t be able to protect you.” Then to Gregory, “You may as well withdraw from the tournament now. You have zero chance with your diet.”
He stepped over the prone vampire, and Charlotte backed away. The anger over the burn receded. He held up his hand and she shrank back as if he might hit her.
“It’s already starting to heal. It’ll be fully repaired when I drink from a source.” She moved her hand to cover her throat. “Not you,” he clarified. “Now, let’s go.”
She hesitated for a moment, then grabbed her bags and preceded him out the door to the elevator. He took a deep breath and counted to ten.
He’d wanted Charlee to be taken care of if she needed anything during the day. The money he’d left for her was a drop in the bucket, but the fact she’d go shopping with it, after burning him . . . His fangs started to press through his gums again.
The metal doors closed behind them as he put the key in next to the number six and pressed the button. Halfway between floors he stopped the elevator and turned to face her, his arms crossed over his chest.
“Why weren’t you home before dark?” he demanded.
He watched the confusion cross her face. That wasn’t what she’d been expecting. He watched the thoughts tumble through her mind. She’d been scared about the consequences for burning him.
“Forget my hand. I told you it will heal. I’m pissed off about it, yeah. I trusted you. I didn’t enthrall you because I didn’t think you’d do something like this. Maybe I’m getting foolish in my old age. I told you to be home by dark.”
“I was in the building.” Charlotte crossed her arms protectively over her chest, her lips drawn down in a petulant pout.
“But not in my home, not where I can keep an eye on you. In fact, you were with one of my competitors. You’re lucky it was that pussy, Gregory and not someone you’d have to worry about, like Linus.”
She lifted her eyes to his, all thoughts of self-preservation tossed aside. “I’m not your pet.” Behind the brave facade was the question, wondering if that was how he’d classed her.
He made a sound of disgust. “Vampire groupies. Don’t listen to anything that girl has to say. No, you’re not my pet, Charlotte. If you were my pet, you’d be enthralled. And if I’d trusted you enough to leave you to your free will, you would be in severe trouble for this.”
He raised his hand again, displaying the burn mark. The bagged blood working through his system had healed it a bit further but not enough.
He leaned in close to her and inhaled. He nuzzled her throat, his tongue creeping out to trail down the side of her neck, the tips of his fangs barely skimming her tender flesh. Then he was on the other side of the cramped elevator. He gripped the railing for support and looked up, shocked. She held a cross in front of her, her hand shaking.
Her other hand covered the place where his fangs had almost penetrated, as if by covering it, he could no longer smell the blood rushing by. “You said, not me.”
“Put it away, Charlotte.”
“And be dinner? Gee, I’m thinking no.”
“Charlotte. I didn’t mean . . . It’s a small enclosed space.”
“Then you should have waited ’til we got out on your floor for this discussion. Start the elevator.”
He inched over to push the button that would take them up to six. The air sizzled around him, charged with an unpleasant electricity caused by the close proximity of the cross. She had a point about talking upstairs. He’d been determined to use her fear of him against her so she’d know how serious he was about her being in by dark.
The door slid open. “Put that away,” he said, still eyeing the cross she held out like a protective shield. With a holy object mere feet from him, he couldn’t enthrall her, and she was avoiding his eyes anyway. Jane must have educated her about eye contact and vampires during their spend-all-the-vamp’s-money shopping extravaganza. But he could still read her mind, especially when the volume of her fear made her thoughts so very loud.
“Get out,” she said, holding her ground.
In his mind, he saw her intentions. He’d get off the elevator, then she’d close the door and escape. She’d decided he was too dangerous. Well, he’d give her points there.
Gregory’s little speech had made an impression, and Anthony’s apparent lack of self-control with her had led them to the current standoff. If she wouldn’t be in danger out there, he’d admire her. This was the woman he knew. The one he loved. He pushed that thought away. Not loved.
“You’re forgetting I can read your mind, and you’ve pretty much laid out your plan. You first. Get rid of the cross.”
She shook her head firmly, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.
“All right, look. You can keep it in your pocket and use it later if you need to. You can stay up all night and go to sleep when I do. That way you know I can’t get to you. Fair?”
“You’re going to trust me not to burn you?”
He knew she wouldn’t burn him again unless it was necessary for her survival. She was practically throwing her thoughts out at him. He couldn’t fault her for trying to protect herself. That’s what he admired so much about her, that she was so strong. He was going to have to start making her feel like she could defend herself.