42nd & Lex (9 page)

He is so calm; it’s unnerving. I check my
wrists and neck again. I am still in one piece. If he’d wanted to hurt me, he
had the chance while I was out. “Go on,” I mutter, feeling a little ashamed of
my assumptions.

“Bianca taught me how to be a vampire. You
know, the basic life skills.” His casual use of the word sends a shiver up my
spine. He cringes almost imperceptibly at my reaction. “Sorry, but what else
are you going to call it? Traditionally, vampires had lived in Eastern Europe
but the Renaissance had drawn them, like everyone else, to Italy. I was not
alone in my learning; there were many other newlings like me around. I will
spare you the specifics of what my early years were like, but needless to say,
they were less than romantic. Popular fiction has a much better ideal than my
reality.”

I want to tell him that popular fiction is
his reality in my opinion, but I don’t. He shrugs, having heard me anyways. “So
where does the shocking and passing out thing come in? Is that a ‘basic life
skill’?”

“That is more complicated than you might
think,” he says, shifting himself away from me on the couch again, pulling his
arms in close. I fight the instinct to reach out for him, to be close. That
feeling in my chest is back but I can’t think about that right now. How is it
my body feels compelled to be close to him when my mind is clearly wary of the
dangers? “I’m guessing by now you’ve figured out that I am not like the
vampires you’ve read about in books or seen in the movies, right?”

I nod in agreement. “For the most part,
yes.”

“I can go out in the sun light. Garlic won’t
kill me, nor will a stake to the heart, silver, or a crucifix. I don’t sleep in
a coffin, as you can see. I do sleep, just not as much or as often as you need
to. And I can’t compel anyone to do anything by staring at them, although that
would come in handy in business if I could.”

“What about eating?” I interrupt. This is the
most pressing question on my mind besides the shock and awe issue. 

“I figured you’d pick up on that one.” He
chuckles a little. “I’m technically not alive, but not entirely dead either. I
don’t need to eat food, but I can. I just, um, let’s say, pay for it later.” He
wrinkles his nose at the thought. “I do feed in the traditional vampire sense,
but if you’d rather not know about that, I understand.”

He does that sexy glancing at me through
lowered lashes thing again and my heart trips over itself. I force my gaze
across the room. The heat stinging my cheeks will betray me even if my mind does
not.

I refocus. “No, I want to know. I mean if I
could become a snack here at any minute, I’d like to be prepared.” I mean it as
a joke. 

He gives me a perturbed look but continues. “Vampires
can feed on human or animal blood. Human is preferable for taste reasons, but
animals can be substituted on preference. Fresh blood is a must so going down
to the local blood bank and picking up a pint is pretty much out of the
question, unless you want some nasty heart burn from the anticoagulants they
put in it.” He thinks that last part is pretty funny from the look on his face.
I too get a rather amusing mental picture of vampires walking up to a cooler in
a mini-mart and picking up a six-pack. 

“So how do you get it?” I ask. 

“The Enclave, the club where we had dinner.”
He stops for a second, no doubt in reaction to my wide-eyed stare, but
continues. “It is an organization of like-minded vampires that choose not to feed
on hapless human victims. We don’t go out and attack or kill innocents. Human
donors are made available to Enclave members.”

My stomach lurches at the thought and I clap
my hand over my mouth. Maybe it is like going down to the mini-mart. A human
mini-mart. 

“Oh, Abri, I knew I shouldn’t be doing this,
telling you all of this. This is wrong of me, all of it.” Obviously frustrated,
he leaves the couch and paces near the windows. “We don’t kill anyone. I don’t
have to do it every day like in the movies. It’s not often at all, in fact,
unless I exert myself.” He stops pacing and faces me. “Most of all, I would
never, could never, do anything to hurt you.”

“Hell of a first date,” I say, trying to
lighten the mood. The laugh that escapes my lips is thin and unconvincing.

“Sorry.” He runs his hands through his hair
and then shoves them into his pockets. The movements make his muscled upper
body ripple and flex. God, he is sexy, even if he doesn’t mean to be.  

I cringe as soon as the thought enters my
head. He will have heard that. Again. Lucan opens his mouth to speak. I
interrupt anything he is going to say to save my embarrassment.

“Don’t be, Luke. It’s who you are. This is
just a lot to take in. I mean, up until a few hours ago I would have laughed in
your face if you’d told me vampires existed. If you weren’t so convincing, I
might still be laughing. That being said, I’m not afraid of you. If you wanted
to hurt me, you’ve had plenty of opportunities to do so by now. Hell, I was
unconscious for at least an hour.”

“Why are you calling me Luke all of a
sudden?”

“I
don’t know, isn’t that what you wanted me to call you?”

“Yes, well, no. I like Lucan better coming
from you.” His sudden innocence is disarming. I begin to relax again when he
rejoins me on the couch. “You call me Lucan when you’re thinking of me.”

The red wash of embarrassment across my face
says more than I am capable of at the moment. “Yeah,” is all I can manage to
say in reply.

His lips twitch into a half smile and he continues
his story. “The donors are humans that agree to make themselves available to us
at the Enclave for feedings. It’s not gross or painful, I promise. Our fangs secrete
venom that is an anesthetic and antibiotic so there is no pain and the wounds
heal almost instantly. No worse than giving blood at the Red Cross really.”

“Do you give out cookies and juice
afterwards?” I quip before I can stop myself. “Maybe a free ‘I gave blood at
the Enclave’ t-shirt?” Inwardly, I’m groaning at my penchant for using humor,
even bad humor, to defuse tense situations.

Lucan snorts and shakes his head at my bad
jokes. “It’s a little better than cookies and juice. The donors, or Patrons as
we call them, are compensated financially for their services by the Enclave’s
foundation. It’s voluntary and Patrons can stop at any time, so long as they
agree to keep our secret. Several of the people you met at the restaurant are
Patrons, our waiter and the hostess for example.”

“What about the valet guy?”

“Serge.”
Lucan spits out the word like it has a bad taste. “He is vampire, but struggles
with the formalities of The Enclave.”

“Formalities?”

“The use of Patrons versus the Hollywood
version of vampirism, among other things.”

“Oh. That explains why he looked at me like
piece of meat when we left. He shocked me when he helped me out of the car too.”
I divulge this in hopes that it will force Lucan to explain the mystery to me.

A flash of anger crosses Lucan’s face but he
recovers quickly. “Guess I can’t put off explaining the shock anymore can I?”

I shake my head. “I knew I’d break you down
eventually.”

“It’s called amperic effect. Amps, electricity,
you get it, right? It is a hunting mechanism that vampires use to stun their
prey. The constant low voltage current lulls a victim into a relaxed state, but
a high dosage can paralyze someone, like a taser.”

 “Interesting. Like a sea anemone. Can you
control it or is it always there?” My brain briefly wonders to the movie
Finding
Nemo
and how Nemo can’t say anemone.

“You amaze me. I have amped you several
times and your first thought is about a cartoon fish with a speech impediment,
not about if I was trying to subdue you into being dinner.”

It is hard to tell if he is admonishing or
amused. Personally, I think he should be relieved I am thinking about a cartoon
fish and not about being dinner, but that is just me. I am also shocked he’s
seen the movie.
Just go with it
, I tell him and myself.

“I can control it to an extent, but it’s a
natural, automatic response. So, yeah, like the sea anemone. It’s also a, um,
mating ritual of sorts.” I can’t hold back a snort of laughter. “Okay, no,
that’s not a good way to explain it. It’s like when you get butterflies in your
stomach. Well, those butterflies just manifest themselves externally for
vampires. It’s how we gauge physical attraction. So my nervous jitters can, and
did, literally knock the crap out of you.”

“Uh, not literally,” I correct.
“Nervousness? What are you nervous about?”

“Being close to you,” he replies. “I don’t
have a lot of experience in this area.”

“What area? I thought you were close humans
all the time. I saw tons of pictures of you online with people at charity
stuff. How can I be any different?”

“You just are, Abri.” His voice is flat and
evasive.

Growing tired of the ambiguity, I push. “Different
how?”

He sighs hard, looking at the ceiling. “I’ve
already told you more than I planned on our first date and even though you
haven’t run away yet, can’t it suffice for now that you’re just different?”

Even knowing he can hear me, I am unable to help
myself from the thoughts: There are few things I despise more in people than
evasiveness. Lying maybe, but evasiveness is worse. It leaves too many avenues
for my brain to go down and go down them it will.

I am just an average human. How on earth can
that be harder or different to be around than one else? Maybe I am some sort of
vampire Kryptonite/Crack combination that makes me repulsive and irresistible
all at once.

“I should be going. It’s late and I am not
doing the walk of shame in front of my own office building in the morning.” I stand
up to find my shoes but Lucan grabs my hand. The amps knock me backwards. He catches
me just before I hit the floor. My body goes rigid and I feel the air rush out
of my lungs. It’s not as bad as the last time, I am still conscious. It reminds
me of the electric fences my grandmother used to keep the cows and rabbits out
of her garden. You never forget bumping into one of those lines.   

“Oh shit! Abri, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to
hurt you. I just wanted you to stay.” The remorse in his voice is palpable. “I’m
so sorry, love. I tried to hold it back.”

“Yeah, can’t you set that thing to anything
less than stun?” I cough and sputter, amused by my
Star Trek
reference,
pretty sure it is lost on Lucan.

“Abri, I was watching
Star Trek
when
it wasn’t in reruns,” he chides. “How about some water?” Lucan is up and
heading for the kitchen. I mumble my acceptance and something about him being
old before closing my eyes. Sleep overtakes me before he can return.

The warm morning sunlight streams across my
face. I enjoy it until I realize that my apartment doesn’t have warm morning sunlight
that streams across my face. I open my eyes to find myself again in Lucan’s
bed. The clock reads 8:15. 

It is bad enough that I failed to make it
home last night, but now I have not even managed to wake up early enough to
dodge the majority of my coworkers who will be arriving in the lobby shortly. There
is no way to make it home, change clothes, and get back before nine.
Yesterday’s work outfit is still hanging on the hook behind my office door but
I will still have to walk into the office in my happy hour dress. Neither
clothing choice is appropriate attire for the hearing I have scheduled at ten
o’clock. I will have to leave early and swing by my apartment to change. Walk
of Shame here I come! I roll over to see if Lucan is beside me listening to my
dilemma, but I am alone. Draped across the end of the massive bed on his side are
a garment bag and a note:

Dearest
Abri, I trust you slept well. I am sorry I could not be here when you woke. Accept
this gift as my apology and I will see you tonight. Your most humble servant,
Lucan.

I unzip the bag to reveal its contents. Inside is a beautiful heather
gray silk suit. The label on the inside of the jacket reads Versace, which even
I know is expensive. He has saved me from the Walk of Shame and, if I hurry,
the unlucky gift Mr. Jones is waiting to bestow on me if I’m late this
morning. 

The bathroom I locked myself in last night must have been the powder room
because I find another, fancier, bathroom just to the other side of Lucan’s
bed. Two of the four walls are made up of the building’s triangular windows. There
is a large marble tub in the center of the room and a shower big enough for two
along one of the non-window walls. It is 8:25, only thirty-five minutes get
ready and back down the elevators. I fire up the cavernous shower for a quick
rinse. There is no time to wash my hair hopefully it isn’t a wreck. 

In fifteen minutes, I am showered and
dressed. Now I need shoes. Shit, I am going to have to wear the Jimmy Choo
heels, at least until I can retrieve my loafers from under my desk. I find my
shoes and my purse next to a banana and granola bar on the island in the
kitchen. Another note from Lucan promises coffee on the counter and cream in
the fridge. The fridge is surprisingly well stocked for a bachelor that doesn’t
need to eat. It’s 8:42. Hopefully that is enough time to snake my way back down
to the 30
^th
floor.

Lucan must have taken the stairs because the
antiquated elevator is waiting for me just where we left it. The stairs would
have been preferable but all I can picture is my body lying in a twisted heap
at the bottom thanks to my stupid heels. The ride down is far less eventful
than it was going up. I make it to the main elevator bank again and hop into
the waiting car. No time to look at the murals this morning either. The ride
from the Cloud Club to the 30
^th
floor is just long enough for me to
fabricate an acceptable story of my evening for Lindsey and Max, who are
probably already waiting for me in my office.