Sins of the Undead Patriot (10 page)

Vaihan pushed the lock button on the door. “Did you reassure him you only agreed to see me to prove how different we are?” His hand slid to the handle, then went back to the steering wheel.

Had he just checked the locks? Probably not. Get a grip.

He pulled onto the road. “With no long-term potential. Did you note how soon our date would be a distant memory?”

She had attempted to assure Rowley that it was just one date. “No, as that would be untrue and if it were my reason, I would have canceled because I wouldn’t lead you on. I enjoyed your brief yet memorable company, and I want to see if that continues.” She had to give him something, and most of it was true. Peter’s freedom was on the line. It didn’t hurt that Vaihan’s presence brought her a measure of happiness. Her emotional state hadn’t driven Vaihan away. And he was using her to get to Peter, so what did she have to feel guilty about?

“This friend’s approval matters to you?” He pressed the lock button again.

Something was definitely up with the locking and relocking. “Yes, he is important to me.” The truth was, Rowley was imperative to Peter’s future.

The heat of Vaihan’s touch moved up her arm to her neck, and a flush burned her skin. Her lips trembled as she forced a smile. His touch affected her, and she barely knew him.

“Then I shall work to gain this individual’s respect.” He reached over and took her hand in his.

If only that were an option. “That isn’t possible.”

Withdrawing his caress, he returned to steering. “I’m going to need to build up your faith in my abilities.” Vaihan smiled, warming his expression.

Her lack of faith was in no way a reflection of Vaihan’s skills, but rather an evaluation of Rowley’s hatred for undead. He’d founded the Coalition of the Living, COTL. An organization with the sole purpose of ensuring zombies weren’t welcome in America as they were in the rest of the world.

“I’ve lost you in those deep thoughts of yours.” Vaihan pulled up in front of the restaurant entrance.

The valet opened his door. Vaihan strode to her side and held his hand out for her.

Le Mouton was one of the few establishments that catered to both living and undead patrons. These types of restaurants had two kitchens–one for making human food and the other for making zombies’ fare.

“Good evening, Mr. Louchian, your table awaits.” The elder doorman cleared the way.

Despite the fact that she was a case to Vaihan, he’d brought her to a place he frequented. Was it because... No, she refused to spend the entire night analyzing everything he did.

“Just over here.” Vaihan looped a hand around her waist, fingers resting on her hip.

Warmth shot up her core. Her nipples hardened and she gasped. What wondrous power he had over her! There wasn’t anything wrong with her, enjoying being wined and dined. He was the government agent, not her.

The cozy corner booth by the river’s edge was bathed in soft lighting. The round oak table glowed. Outside, large snowflakes cascaded from the sky and the moon peeked through dark clouds.

Leera stepped up onto the elevated vacant rear section then removed her coat, which Vaihan handed to the doorman. She slid into the high-backed, caramel-colored leather seat.

“First snow of the year.” He smiled, sitting next to her.

She nodded. “It’s very pretty.” Romantic, for a first date. Not that he controlled the weather, but somehow it gave the evening an added layer.

A waiter approached with two menus in hand. “I’m Aaron. I’ll be looking after you this evening. I’ve brought our human menu, which is the red for the lady, and the blue for Mr. Louchian. I’ll give you a few moments to go over the selections and come back for your drinks.” He turned and moved to a table in the lower main dining area.

Most other tables had multiple undead with a human. Lust twinkled in the humans’ half-mast eyes. What did they know that she didn’t about undead?

“Is everything all right?” Vaihan tilted his head to see what she’d been staring at.

Heat burned Leera’s cheeks as she opened the menu. “Yes. Why do you ask?” Would he press the matter or back off?

“A certain curiosity piqued in those beautiful dark eyes. Is there anything I may be of assistance in clearing up?” His dimple peeked, softening his demeanor.

Sooner or later he’d find out how little she knew of his kind. “I’ve never known anyone who’s dated an undead, and yet, this place is filled with mixed couples.”

“Not all couples. Some are trios and other quartets.”

Quartets? Menages were complicated enough to understand. Wouldn’t she be stuffed from rim to brim? A table at the other end of the room had three undead males and a woman whose gaze sparkled with joy. The undead next to her had his hand pressed between her thighs. For the first time since Jean’s death, Leera wondered if she’d ever feel a connection beyond physical when being touched.

“Haven’t you heard, once you go undead, you never go back to the living?” A hint of mischief warmed his intense eyes, softening him.

She bit her bottom lip. A similar phrasing was told to her some years ago, but not in relation to undead.

“An undead’s primary focus in bed is his partner’s or partners’ pleasure–meaning orgasm.” He scanned his menu.

Should she interject a response or leave his mind to ponder what she thought of his comment. Heh. More fun to have him reflecting on it.

A wide selection of wines, spirits and ales covered the first page. Maybe drinking wasn’t a good idea. “You work for the White House, don’t you?”

“No, the president. My office is in the west wing on the second floor, at the back.”

“Of course, Special Advisor to the President...what does that mean exactly?”

“It varies. At times, she comes to me with an idea. I give her the undead perspective. Sometimes she tells me to get this or that done. Often, I need to smooth over decisions she’s made so that the undead don’t lose faith in her.” His pupils widened, filling his gaze with vulnerability. “I believe in the democracy of this great nation. My goal is to ensure that the rights and liberties are for all citizens, not just the living. As Mandela says,
There is no such thing as part freedom
.”

And was she going to endanger his purpose, everything he stood for? What choice did she have? If she didn’t, her brother would be shipped off to Guantanamo Bay. Peter had always looked out for her. She could do no different now, for his safety.

Maybe her comfort level with Vaihan was because she doubted he could hurt her. She knew he was only seeing her to further his own case, so he wouldn’t let his emotions run amok. People like Vaihan didn’t obtain what they wanted without having a ruthless side. He, too, could believe the ends justified the means.

Vaihan overlapped his hand on hers as he put down the menu. Butterflies traveled up her arm, sending a shiver through her. His touch felt right and thrilling all in the same moment.

What was she in the mood for? Spicy mixed with sweet. The ThaiMex salad was just the combo, with a shrimp cocktail to start.

“Have you decided?” Aaron stood beside their table, pencil and pad in hand.

“I have.” She smiled. “And how about you?” she asked Vaihan.

“Yes,” he responded. “I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman, if I ordered before you. Please go ahead.”

“Thank you.” Chivalry. She liked that quality in a male. “I’ll have a six ounce glass of
vinho verde
white. The shrimp cocktail, the ThaiMex fusion salad and a water, please.”

“Eclectic mix of flavors.” Vaihan’s upward-turned lips revealed his one dimple. “I’ll have all my usual.”

“Of course, Mr. Louchian. Let me make more space.” Aaron held out a hand for the menus, took them and left.

Vaihan’s smooth, long fingers strummed the tops of her hands. Heat danced beneath his touch.

She met his gaze.

“Your father fought for the first senate seat in the District of Columbia and your brother is a lawyer, who many believe will pick up were your father left off. So, how old were you when you decided you had no interest in politics or law?”

“Young.” In the beginning, she had feared her parent’s rejection. Eventually, she’d sought their disapproval. “My parents hoped I’d grow out of it. Peter helped shelter me from their criticism. My father believed I was mixed up with the wrong crowd, meaning boyfriend, so they shipped me off to study culinary arts abroad.” After the loss of her child and ovary, and breaking things off with Rowley, the victory of studying what she wanted had been bittersweet.

Aaron arrived with a wine and a Scotch glass on his tray.

Leera picked up her drink, smelled the sweet vanilla and pepper aromas then sipped the tangy liquid. “Delicious.”

“Wonderful.” The young man left.

“What were you seeking that cooking provided?” He locked his fingers with hers.

With Vaihan, an ease came over her at being touched that only her late husband and Rowley had managed to make her feel. “An artful skill, and something I could leave at work, when I left for the day.”

“And does your employment provide that?” He massaged the inside of her palm with his thumb.

“It can. However, after the accident, I buried myself in work and became the youngest woman head chef at a three star Michelin rated restaurant.” She lifted her glass and allowed the sweet taste to wash over her tongue. “As head chef at La Petite Brasserie, I do more managing than cooking. So the answer is no, but that is my own fault.”

A short man set down her shrimp cocktail, smiled and left.

Aaron arrived with a tray, placed a large white bowl in front of Vaihan with squares glazed in a dark red sauce. A deep-dish salad with leafy greens, tortilla chips pieces and beans with peanut butter dressing was placed before her. So far, everything seemed freshly made. Would the taste live up to it?

What had he ordered? Didn’t zombies eat humans?

Chapter 10

Beneath Vaihan’s hand, Leera’s fingers stiffened, which was the cue to that moment when all theory of what he was would go out the window and she’d be faced with the truth.

She peered at his bowl with saucerlike eyes. “What are you having?”

He didn’t want her perception of him to change. Yet, it was inevitable. “Ms. Waltz, once we have this discussion, we cannot return to the bliss of ignorance. Are you sure you want to know the answer?”

She met his gaze and nodded. “Now, I’m the one who needs to build up your faith in my ability to deal with who and what you are.”

Modernisms entertained him and he enjoyed using them too. Her pretty chocolate eyes seduced him, and he didn’t want to lose the ease she had with him. But he wouldn’t hide what he was, either.

“I’m having human female thigh with organs-au-jus.”

“Why the thigh and not a breast?” She quirked an eyebrow. Her tone was even–unchanged–which was a good sign.

He smiled that she had gone down that road. “Do you want the flirtatious answer or the truth?”

“Both.” She nodded.

Curious creature, she was. “The flirtatious response would be, I can think of a better use for breasts besides eating them.”

She pressed her lips together.

“The factual reason is that, breasts are made up of cellulite, glands and veins. None of which are very tasty. Nor do they have the nutrition that allows for my kind to regenerate.”

“Huh. Who knew...” She cocked her head with a shrug. “Are there spices? How fresh is it?”

“Honestly, I’m not the best person to answer those questions. The chef, Johann, is a friend of mine and I’m sure he’d be excited to have a fellow alumna in his kitchen.”

“If you aren’t put off, then I would love to speak with him.”

Vaihan stood and held his arm out for her. If she sought to know, he’d be honored to give her a true perception of the undead. Not one trumped up by ignorance or hatred of his kind.

She took hold of his arm. “Thank you.”

As his hand slid to the small of her back, she didn’t shy from his touch.

“You’re welcome.” This type of ease was rare with human females this early on.

They went down the steps, and he led her through the kitchen door.

Johann frowned. “Vaihan, is something wrong? Is your dinner not to your liking?”

Creative folks could be so sensitive. Four rows of stainless steel counters stretched out before them. “Everything is delicious.” Though he’d yet to have a bite, he was sure his assessment was true. Hopefully, Leera would play along. The man had a fragile ego.

She nodded. “The presentation is eye-catching and the aromas are robust.”

“I like her. Who is she?” Johann gestured for the undead slicing a hand from an arm to ignore them.

The alluring scent of blood permeated the air. The muscles around his ribs squeezed. He hadn’t thought of his own discomfort watching such a display. “Please allow me to introduce Leera Waltz.” Most of his kind could not work surrounded by delectable morsels of flesh without being consumed by “the urge.” The other undead now loaded organs into a blender. What did Leera make of all this?