I clenched my jaw and made a show of turning away.
You want me, buddy? You have to come and get me.
He
didn’t, but a fifty-something man with alcohol-laced breath and red-rimmed eyes appeared out of nowhere and cornered me against the bar. Just my luck. There was
one
person in the establishment who hadn’t bathed for a couple of weeks, and of course he decided to make a pass at me.
“Can I buy you a drink, honey?” His words were slurred, and he stood too close for comfort.
I could have ripped his head off his shoulders within seconds, but I don’t generally like violence. Placing a hand on his shoulder to keep him at arm’s length, I indicated my glass. “No, thanks. I’m set,” I said with a smile, allowing just a bit of fang to show. He couldn’t possibly have enough credibility to expose us.
The drunk stumbled back, hands held up in the universal giving-up sign, just as the yummy male specimen made his way to us. I saw Yummy’s face fall and thought, Aha! Hero complex.
“I was coming to save you,” he said, “but I see you handled him yourself.” His voice complemented the rest of him. Deep, masculine—the voice you’d want whispering dirty things in your ear.
The ball was in my court. “Maybe you should stick around, in case I can’t handle the next one.” I smiled. No fangs.
He grinned, giving me a better look at his pearly whites. Yup, still flawless. “I’m Alex. Alex Marsden.”
“Cherry.” No last name for me. There was no reason.
Up close, he looked even better. I figured he was in his late twenties, thirty tops, and it seemed like he worked out. His fingers, which I got a good look at when he raised his beer to his mouth, were long, and I couldn’t help but imagine how his big hands would feel on me.
“So, what do you do?”
His question threw me. People didn’t usually care what I did when I was dressed in leather and thigh-high boots. I wondered how he’d react if I said I was a lawyer.
I took a sip from my overpriced, alcohol-laced tomato juice. “Used to model. I’m between jobs now.” Had been for a long time, since my maker hadn’t bothered to ask about my future plans before turning me. At first I’d been really pissed off to wake up dead while at the peak of my career.
Meh! I may as well be truthful here. I hadn’t been at the peak, just at the beginning. I’d filmed two
highly
erotic movies as an extra and had just been given the starring role in a third one. And the main reason I’d been pissed off for the better part of six years was that I’d been turned before getting the lipo and boob job I’d planned on pampering myself with for my twenty-fourth birthday. Now I was doomed to go through eternity without the perfectly flat belly and double D breasts Dr. King had promised me.
Alex nodded and looked me up and down. “You look familiar, and I don’t follow fashion. Have we met before?” To his credit, his gaze didn’t pause anywhere but on my face during his perusal.
Classic pickup line, although he actually might have seen me before. I couldn’t really ask him if he liked porn, so I just shook my head. “What do
you
do?”
“I’m a cop. Detective.” He shrugged like he was saying
nothing special
.
A detective. That could be bad. Those guys have good memories as a rule, and he might have seen my missing person report. Still, I wouldn’t panic. I’d gone from blonde to redhead for
Knotting Cherry Stem
—hell, I’d changed my name for it—and had bangs now and forever. No, he wouldn’t recognize me.
And
no
, I’m not telling you my real name.
“Sounds exciting,” I drawled, all wide-eyed. “You should tell me more.” To stress how interested I was, I ran the tips of my fingers down his bicep. Nice and firm. Yum squared!
As if he didn’t even notice, he began saying something about my eyes. Most guys would be all over the chance to touch me back, but not him. I could see he was the type to really take his time with a woman, and it intrigued me. I suddenly wanted to find out for sure. Would he take his time with
everything
?
I cut him off, pointing to the speaker booming overhead. “It’s too loud in here. Maybe we should go somewhere quieter?”
His left eyebrow arched, but he put his palm on the small of my back. The touch gave me goose bumps, and that’s a real feat when talking about a dead girl. “My place is quiet.” Ah, he got the hint at once. Smart man.
As soon as I left my drink on the bar, he caught the bartender’s eye and paid for us both. I didn’t offer to cover my half, but I made a mental note to thank him properly once we were alone.
“Do you have a car?” he asked as I let him lead me to the exit. “You can follow me in it, or I can drive you back here…” His voice drifted off. What would he say? What could he say? Later?
After
? I decided the fact that he hadn’t finished his sentence was for the best.
Not all of us can fly but only because some cannot fathom lifting off the earth and therefore can’t focus their will enough to achieve it.
I
can. I’d flown to the bar, but I couldn’t really tell him that. “No car. I took a cab.”
“Are you okay with taking my car? Riding with strangers and all?” He was so thoughtful, and I had to try not to swoon until he added, “We could go to your place, if you’d feel more comfortable.”
No no no no no
. No. It was bad enough that I was still going through with my plan even though he was a policeman—but he was
so hot
, who could blame me? Bringing him to my apartment would take
risky
to a whole new level. “I wanna see how a cop lives.” A bat of my heavily made-up eyelashes and the deal was closed.
* * * *
The drive to Alex’s place was just long enough to get me wondering if he was some psycho killer looking for a place to have his wicked way with me. If that was the case, he was so in for a surprise that I felt bad for him. Although the possibility of that being his agenda made me feel less bad for what
my
agenda was, and that in itself was weird.
I’ve never felt any shame or guilt for feeding off unsuspecting victims.
Never ever
. It’s not like I do them any harm. Nothing like the harm that was done to me, anyway.
I’d been at a party when I’d met my maker. His name was Willoughby, and he’d been gorgeous and polite, nothing like the grabby crowd my agent usually brought me into contact with. When he’d suggested driving me home, I’d been all up for it. Maybe the mention of a limo had added to the appeal.
We never reached my home. We started making out in the car—I remember giggling too much, probably because of the champagne—and things had gotten heated rather fast. My sequined dress, extremely short to begin with, had bunched around my waist, and he had his hand inside my panties when I felt a sharp pain at my neck. I never really liked hickeys and I’d been supposed to begin shooting
Knotting Cherry Stem
the following day so I’d tried to push him away, but to no avail.
The shooting of
Knotting Cherry Stem
had been canceled, of course. I hadn’t been sued for breach of contract because nobody had been able to locate me. Willoughby had dumped my lifeless body in an alley.
Alex didn’t seem like the kind of man to dump someone in an alley. Maybe that was why I felt a pang at the thought of using him. A
pang
, mind you, not guilt. We, creatures of the night and all, don’t feel such puny emotions. Just a pang when he opened the passenger’s door for me, another when he didn’t try to cop a feel while grasping the gearshift, another when he asked where I was from, how old I was…
Turning sideways in my seat, I took in Alex’s profile. He reminded me of a Greek god: nose a bit too large, adding a masculine tone to his face that would otherwise be too pretty with the long-lashed eyes and pouty lips, and hair just long enough to curl over the collar of his shirt. The streetlights gave the black curls a shine that tempted me to run my fingers through them.
He pulled into a driveway, and I focused on the scenery outside for the first time since we’d gotten into his car. A nice street in Monterey Hills with single and two-story houses only. Not the kind of neighborhood I’d associate with a cop.
Then again, the house that the driveway led to didn’t look at all like what I’d expected a cop’s house to be.
He seemed apologetic while telling me there had been a gas leak in his apartment in the city. “My mom’s away for a few weeks and said I could crash here until it’s fixed.”
His mom’s? He’d brought me to his
mom’s
? Okay, so she was away and his place wasn’t habitable at the moment, but hadn’t he heard of hotels? And how would I even enter the place? “She won’t mind you having company over?” I asked, trying to decide whether to stick with him and see if I could enter the house, compel him to take me somewhere else, or cut my losses and find someone else to get me through the night.
“Nah. I grew up here. It’s as much my home as it is hers.” From where I stood at the threshold, I saw a wistful smile grace his lips. “Plus it’s always tidy and with a full fridge.”
It was the smile that sold me; this place was special to him, and something deep inside made me want to see it. And even if he turned out to be a momma’s boy after all, I wouldn’t stick around for it to matter. That was one problem solved.
He gave a half shrug and held the door open for me. “Come in.”
Phew!
Gesturing to his right, he indicated the living room. “Make yourself at home. I’ll get us something to drink.”
I really couldn’t make myself at home with all the frilliness and floral patterns surrounding me, but I tried. I sank into the huge sofa, crossed my legs demurely at the ankles, and waited for him.
An “uh-huh” came from the kitchen, followed by “I knew she had liquor here.” Alex’s head poked out of the doorway that separated the kitchen from the living room. “What’ll it be?”
My turn to shrug. “Do you have beer?” I didn’t feel like making him prepare me a cocktail.
“Beer?” He mock scowled. “What kind of drink is that for a lady?”
I made a show of looking around. “Lady? Where?” If that wasn’t an invitation, I don’t know what would be, but Alex laughed. It was a nice laugh—deep, like his voice, rich and hearty.
“All women are ladies until proven otherwise,” he said with a wink before disappearing from sight.
I wanted to prove myself otherwise. And fast. Other than having the serious munchies, I was more attracted to him than I’d been to anyone since I’d broken up with my ex-boyfriend years earlier.
He brought me my drink and sat in the armchair to my right. That wouldn’t do.
“Why so far away?” I asked. “And aren’t you drinking?”
He shook his head. “I’ve had enough for one night.”
He didn’t explain his seating choice, and I was confused. He wouldn’t have brought me there unless he was attracted to me, so I didn’t get why he wasn’t doing anything about it. “So…are you seeing someone special?” I didn’t know why, but I really wanted to know the answer. And I wanted it to be
no
.
He took some time to reply, and the look in his eyes made me antsy. It was too serious. Maybe he
was
seeing someone. Maybe he was married, despite the lack of a wedding band on his finger, or lived with his girlfriend, and that was why he’d taken me to his mother’s house. It would explain why he was reluctant to make a move.
It felt like forever until he spoke again. “No.” He sighed. “I couldn’t be more single. You?”
“I don’t do relationships anymore.” Not since I’d found Constantine in bed with his maker. Constantine, who’d promised to love me forever and had then broken my heart.
Silence again. I hate silence sometimes.
This
was one of those times.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again and rubbed his temples. “I may be about to say the stupidest thing,” he said, “but…I’d never pay for sex.”
I looked at him, mouth agape. My first instinct was to go over our interactions trying to find what I’d done wrong to give him that impression, but I held back. It wasn’t my fault he’d jumped to conclusions. He was an asshole, pure and simple, and the only thing that saved him from a full-on angry vampire attack was that said angry vampire was too shocked to react.
“It’s not about my job.” Sighing dramatically, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I’m not going to arrest you or lecture you, even though going after someone you know is a cop is stupid. I just thought we could talk.” After a pause, he added, “I’m not paying for that either.”
I wanted to slap him, but that might end with his head flying into the wall and I’d hate to ruin the beige tapestry with bloodstains. “I don’t charge,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Come on, Cherry.” He placed his hand on my knee in a brotherly fashion. “The clothes, the attitude…”
I hated the tears that sprang unbidden to my eyes as I jumped up and turned toward the door. “I’m leaving,” I said. “You’re an asshole.” My taste in men seemed consistent, if nothing else.
He was fast for a human. And strong. He grabbed me by the arm and spun me to face him. “You’re telling the truth.” He sounded incredulous, which gave my anger a fresh boost.
“A woman can’t go out at night by herself to have a drink? She can’t see a man she likes, and—and
want
him, without being a prostitute?” If I’d fed, I’d have been beet red by then.
“Cherry, I’m sorry. I—all the leather and the way you came on to me… I thought—”
“What you
should
have thought was that you were about to get incredibly lucky.” I shook his hand off. “Not anymore, though.”
I kept glaring, even after he grabbed me again and brought his lips to mine—glared for all of a second before melting into the kiss. His lips were soft and moist and apparently magical, because while they were attached to mine, I forgot all about how he’d insulted me.
When I remembered, I pushed him back hard enough to send him flying into the chair he’d recently vacated. “Oh, now that you know it’s for free, you want it?” I leaned over him and grabbed the arms of the chair, trapping him. “Well, you can’t have it!” I said the words slowly, keeping my tone even. I can now say with certainty that vampires can’t kill with our eyes, since Alex survived the daggers thrown by mine.