Must Love Fangs (Midnight Liaisons) (22 page)

He inclined his head. “This I understand.”

The waiter returned, opened the wine, and poured. When our glasses were set in front of us and the wine bottle left on the table, Andre picked up his glass and swirled it, admiring the dark red contents. “I’m not entirely sure of where we move next, Marie. I feel as if my trust has been betrayed, yet I enjoy your company. You are clearly not repulsed by mine, and I feel like we have more to offer each other. Yet . . . I do need trust. It is critical for a vampire.”

This didn’t sound like an immediate brush-off. Hope shot through me like adrenaline, and I leaned forward, wanting to grab the table and shake it in my giddiness. “You can absolutely trust me. I’m a very private person.”

“That is good, but I need more than words.”

And he swirled his wineglass again, looking at it thoughtfully, then back to my neck.

I sat back, all the excitement deflating from my body. Oh. That movement was rather obvious. “You want to . . . drink from me?”

“You do wish to be my companion, do you not?”

“I do. More than anything.” It sounded desperate, but hell, I
was
desperate.

“Then prove it.” His eyes were cunning as he stared across the table at me.

I didn’t even hesitate. “All right. Let’s do it.”

He placed his wineglass on the table and got up from his chair. When I stood, he crooked his arm for me to place my hand through.

It was a gentlemanly gesture, at odds with this power play we were going through. I linked my arm through his, letting him lead me out a side door.

We went into the night, walked around to the side of the small building. I could still hear the music playing from the speakers attached to the door of the restaurant.

“This is acceptable,” he said, maneuvering so we stood in the shadows of the building.

Here? It seemed too open. I supposed anyone that passed by would see a couple making out, however, not a vampire sucking someone’s blood. “All right,” I began—

Andre pushed me roughly against the brick wall, scraping my skin. But more alarming was the hand that went to the base of my throat, tilting my head back and exposing my neck. I struggled against his grip, and he arched an eyebrow.

“I thought you wanted this, Marie?”

“I did. I do.” So why did being pinned against a wall fill me with so much panic? I forced myself to calm, stare him in the eyes. “I can handle this.”

He grinned, and as I watched, his fangs elongated. I stared in appalled horror as they stretched out of his mouth, easily two or three inches long. That was . . . awful. A car passed by, the glare of the headlights moving over his face and making those awful teeth gleam. “This is what you want?”

I swallowed hard. If I said no, he’d never turn me. “It is.”

“But not my kiss?” Despite the long length of his fangs, he seemed to have no trouble speaking, though he was slow and deliberate in the pronunciation of his words. “You refused that?”

“I don’t want to be drugged,” I told him. “I want to be fully aware . . . of everything.”

He grinned at me. “As you wish.”

When he leaned in, I felt a flare of alarm. I
didn’t
want this.

I wanted Josh.

I didn’t want to be a vampire. I didn’t want this vampire. Underneath his polite exterior, there was something cold about Andre, and it had come out tonight.

Teeth sank into my neck. There was a hard pinch of pain, and then a rip of agony flashed through me. I yelped and stiffened, and Andre’s hand covered my mouth.

It felt like I’d been skewered with two hot pokers, but even worse was the sucking that followed. I felt blood dribbling down my throat, against the fabric of my dress. He slurped at my neck, and
drank. And drank. It seemed to go on forever, painful and messy.

Finally, his fangs pulled free from my neck with a nasty sucking sound. He stepped away and grinned as blood gushed down my neck.

“You’ll want to apply pressure there,” he said, wiping at the corners of his mouth. As I watched, his fangs receded. He pulled out a white handkerchief and handed it to me.

I pressed it against my neck. Blood was everywhere, down my neck, dribbling into my cleavage. I felt weak . . . and revolted.

I’d just let a vampire drink from me. It was the most violating thing I’d ever felt. Far worse than the kiss. With the drug of his saliva, the kiss had been tolerable. This was just . . . beyond revolting. I swallowed hard. “I . . . I think I’m still bleeding.”

He adjusted his cuff links, then smoothed a hand over his hair, seemingly bored now that he’d fed. “Was it everything you expected?”

“No.” Honesty had served me well thus far.

Andre grinned, and I was repulsed by the red tinge of his teeth. “Have I scared you away?”

“No. I still want you to turn me.”

“We’ll see,” he said lightly. “I do have need of a blood partner.”

My heart sped up with hope.

“I’m just not sure that you’re the right woman for the job. It’ll require a little more . . . time.”

My stomach gave a sickening clench. I knew what he meant. Time and a few more feedings to
decide if he wanted to cut me loose or keep me on. I swallowed hard. “Just call me, then. I’m available.”

So much for letting the predator chase his prey.

But he gave me a thin smile. “Oh, I will.” He leaned in and brushed a finger along the curve of my breast, wiping off a bead of blood. He lifted it to his mouth and grinned. “Delicious. Thank you for dinner, dear one. You look a mess, though. Perhaps we should call our date off early?”

I felt a little dizzy and used, standing there with the handkerchief pressed to my neck. “That sounds fine to me.”

He leaned in and gave me a dry kiss on the cheek. Then he winked and walked away, whistling.

I picked up my purse from where I’d dropped it on the ground, and I nearly staggered, black spots dancing in front of my eyes. Andre had taken quite a bit of blood. I didn’t know how much, and my neck was still bleeding. I kept the handkerchief pressed there and staggered back to the agency.

It was still bleeding a few minutes later, when I heavily sat down at my desk and stared at the dancing screen saver on my computer.

“Marie, are you okay?” Ryder scrambled up from her desk. “You’re covered in blood!”

“I’m fine,” I said. But there was a stupid wobble in my throat. I felt weak as hell, and there was blood everywhere. I wanted to go home and take a hot shower. And cry. Crying sounded good.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I shook my head and raised my pinky.

She sighed and raised her pinky in response. “Can I get you anything?”

A shoulder to cry on, perhaps? I gave her a wan smile. “Do we have any Band-Aids?”

“I’m pretty sure we do,” she said, hustling to the office bathroom. “Be right back.”

I pressed the handkerchief against my neck harder, and I wasn’t surprised when my desk wavered in front of my eyes and the walls of the office seethed, as if covered by spiders.

Great. Another hallucination. I closed my eyes and prayed tonight would be over soon.

• • •

By the time the day shift came in to work, I wore a pink sweater over my stained dress (the sweater borrowed from Ryder) and had my hair down over the Cookie Monster Band-Aids on my neck. I’d had a few glasses of water to help with the loss of blood, but I was still feeling incredibly weak. I didn’t have the energy to type, much less answer the phone.

Ryder was a good friend. She’d routed all the calls to her own phone, gotten me a drink when I’d needed one, and insisted on my lying down on the couch in the file room. I’d rested for a few hours.

At one point, she’d suggested calling Josh to take me home, but I’d shot that idea down. If Josh had gotten one whiff of me covered in vampire scent, he’d have gone nuts.

And part of me had thought, longingly, that I’d have loved it if he’d gone nuts over me. For him to
have pulled me into his arms and comforted me. Stroked my hair. Held me close. But no matter how badly I’d wanted Josh at that moment, I had to take my licks. I’d chased him away. I didn’t get to call him back just because I was having a bad day. He’d made that quite clear.

Bath and Sara entered the office chatting, cups of coffee in hand. Sara looked concerned as she plopped her oversized purse in her chair. “You okay, Marie? You look like you’re not feeling well.”

“Just tired,” I said automatically and forced a smile to my face. “Glad to see the day shift, though.”

She paused in front of my desk as Bath continued on to her office. Her nostrils flared, and she studied me for a moment “You . . . sure you’re okay? Your eyes are a little glassy.”

I blinked rapidly. “Just tired and ready for a nap. That’s all.”

She nodded and seemed to sniff the air, then moved back to her desk again. “Get some sleep.”

“Oh, I will,” I said, hauling my tired body to my feet.

“Hey, Ryder, can I talk to you?” Bath said as I left.

“Sure,” Ryder said, glancing meaningfully back at me.

I stuck my pinky out, indicating that she should keep her mouth shut. I hadn’t come this far to be undone by my best friend’s concerns.

• • •

It was the longest car drive home ever. I took the back roads, terrified to get on the highway, lest I pass out. Luckily, I made it into my apartment. I collapsed on the couch and slept for a few hours, though it wasn’t very restful. I knew it was due to the loss of blood, not to any recovery.

The worst part was knowing that if my plan was going to work, I’d have to do this again. Repeatedly. I shuddered. I needed to scrub the skin under those cheery Band-Aids and wipe myself clean of his touch.

This was a nightmare.

I sat up and rubbed my face, composing myself, and forced myself to look at things rationally. I might only have to put up with Andre for a short period of time. It didn’t sound like he was averse to the thought of turning me. I could use him until I got what I wanted, and then terminate the relationship. Surely vampires broke up every now and then, didn’t they?

So why did it feel so very awful and mercenary? Andre wanted to use me, too—last night was proof of that.

My phone rang. I picked it up and stared at Josh’s number, then let it go to voice mail.

If I talked to him right now, I might give in to self-pity. I might be ashamed of my choice and regret it. And I couldn’t afford that.

• • •

I showered and had just changed into a T-shirt and yoga pants when the doorbell rang. I frowned and
moved to the door, looking through the peephole. It was Josh, a brown grocery bag in hand.

“I heard that groan, Marie-Pierre,” he said cheerfully. “You keep forgetting that shifters have great hearing.”

I felt a nervous, excited little flutter in my belly at the sight of him. Pure hormones, I told myself. I shouldn’t have been excited to see Josh. Not after we’d parted in such an ugly fashion.

I’d done my best to drive him away, yet here he was, back again. He was determined not to let me shut him out.

He wasn’t going to let me be alone in this.

Tears flooded my eyes and I blinked them away quickly, then opened the door. “Hi,” I said warily.

Josh looked mouthwatering. He’d exchanged his black security T-shirt for a dark blazer over a V-neck shirt, with jeans and a pair of sunglasses. He looked like a male model, so strikingly masculine that he took my breath away. His baseball cap was gone, his thick brown hair neatly combed.

I felt the oddest urge to drag my fingers through it and mess up that hair. It was too tidy and unruffled to be my Josh.

“Can I come in?” he asked, holding up the bag of groceries.

I nodded and moved aside. To my surprise, he leaned in and gave me a light kiss on the mouth, then continued on to the kitchen.

I shut the door behind him thoughtfully. “Where are you going, all dressed up?”

“Hot date,” he announced, moving into the kitchen.

My heart clenched.
Criss.
I kept my voice light. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he said casually, clanging about in my kitchen. “I know this chick who digs French stuff.”

Out of curiosity, I followed to see what he was doing. And stared as he set up a small FryDaddy on my counter.

“Well, French-Canadian cuisine,” he amended, and grinned at me.

All my anxiety went out the door, and I felt like laughing. I went forward, peering over his shoulder as he pulled a bottle of oil out of the grocery bag. “What are you doing?”

“I am making you
poutine,
” Josh said. “I’m going to make you some french fries, and then we’re going to slather those tasty things in disgusting cheese curds and brown gravy.”

I laughed and smacked him on the arm. “It’s not disgusting. It’s delicious.”

“Says the woman named Marie-Pierre.”

I chuckled as he prepared the fryer. “This is a lot of work, just to make me some
poutine
.”

“I know it is. I had to go to four damn stores to find cheese curds. It’s ridiculous.” As he plugged in the fryer, he stepped away from it and toward me. “The good news is that I get to give you a proper greeting while that’s heating up.”

He reached for me, his fingers brushing over my tangled hair. He leaned in, that slight, roguish smile
tugging at his mouth, then paused at the sight of the two Band-Aids on my neck. Some emotion flickered over his face, as if he was warring with himself. Then he leaned in a bit further and kissed me, ever so lightly, on the nose.

That was . . . disappointing.

I frowned as he stepped away. Did he not want to kiss me anymore? Just when I’d had my toes all curled in preparation?

He moved back to the grocery bag and paused, resting his fists on the counter. His clenched fists, I noticed. Oh. He was furious and trying not to show it. Furious at me, then?

I bit my lip, suddenly feeling anxious tears spring to my eyes. I didn’t want things to go like this between us. “I’m sorry I was so awful to you yesterday.”

“You’re scared,” he said to the bag of groceries, not looking in my direction, his shoulders and fists still tense and clenched. “Your natural reaction is to try and push me away. I wanted to show you that you can’t push me out of your life. I want to be here for you.”