The Vampire Shrink (8 page)

He's three hundred years old? Well, I did ask.

“Don't you think he might be a bit too old for you? What are you hoping will happen between the two of you?”

“I think he's the one I've been waiting for.”

Waiting for? You're only nineteen. I need some magic words here.

I started to respond, but just then she turned her head and stared out the window, deep in thought. I waited, and after a while she brought her gaze back to me, all the joy wiped from her face. “Bryce says he'll bring me over if I want.”

“Bring you over?”

“Make me a vampire.”

Okay. She said she wants to be a vampire, and this guy is offering to help her out, but it doesn't appear that she thinks it's a good thing. She's definitely sending out mixed signals. What's really going on here?

I noted she'd raised her chin at the end of her last statement, echoing the attitude of defiance that had also crept into her voice, so I decided to push the envelope a bit.

“I thought Dev wouldn't let you do that. Have you talked to him about your new guy?”

Come on, Dev, be a father figure instead of a predator. It sounds like Bryce wants that job.

“No.” Her fists tightened in her lap. “He hates Bryce. He already asked me to stay away from him, but why should I? Why shouldn't I have a relationship with Bryce? Who is Dev to make those decisions for me? He isn't my father.”

Ah. Bingo.

“Did he tell you why he wanted you to stay away from Bryce?”

The anger that had started out as a slow leak now flooded the room. Her intensity crashed into me like a wave. I breathed into the tight muscles.

“He said Bryce is one of the bad guys, that he uses people and he doesn't care about anyone but himself. Then I had to sit there while he went on and on about how vampires are no different from humans—there are good ones and bad ones—and how I'm not ‘mature' enough to know the difference. Who does he think he is? He doesn't care that I've finally found someone who wants me.”

She burst into tears.

And the wall comes tumbling down …

I moved the tissue box closer to her and said softly, “It sounds like Dev hurt your feelings.”

She blew her nose and nodded.

“Why is Dev so important to you?”

“He's the first person who ever paid any attention to me.” She sobbed for a few seconds. “I'd hoped he'd change his mind about me being too young for him. I really love him, and he treats me like a kid.”

“That must be very frustrating.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “But I know he cares about me. Just not the way I want him to.”

“Is it possible that having a big-brother type of love might be special in its own way? After all, having someone who watches out for you is worth a lot.”

“I never thought of it that way.” She frowned and paused to consider it. “Maybe I should talk to him?”

I nodded and relaxed my tight shoulders. “I think that would be an excellent idea.”

Maybe this Dev guy isn't so screwed up after all.

We sat quietly for a couple of minutes.

“Midnight, are you seriously considering becoming a vampire?”

“Becoming a vampire” had started to sound like a euphemism to me, and I was sensing the same vibe I got when a client hinted about suicide without actually saying the words.

“I don't know. Last night Bryce and I took a little blood from each other. It's the first time a real vampire has bitten me. He did it while we were having sex, which felt great, but I think I must have passed out for a while because I couldn't remember what happened after that. He said he had chosen me because I was ready. I don't want to let him down.”

Let him down?

Bryce was setting off all my inner alarms. I wished I could see the skin on her neck hidden by all that hair so I could tell if she had any cuts or bite marks.

Did he drug her? He's obviously playing into the vampire fantasy. Is he a manipulative slimeball or something even worse?

“I thought we made an agreement that you'd hold off on any blood-drinking activities until we talked about it first. What if Bryce has some kind of illness? Is he worth dying for?”

She scowled. “I think you're making it a bigger deal than it is. I know I told you I'd wait, but we got so caught up in the moment. Bryce said that if I really loved him, I'd want to share everything with him. I know how that sounds, but at the time it made perfect sense. He just looked at me, and I knew it was the right thing to do. Besides, Bryce said if I do decide to become a vampire, any diseases that I might have would go away.”

Shit. We've crossed the line now. I'm legally required to report harm to self or other, and even though Midnight isn't a minor, she's at risk. If I get the authorities involved in this, Midnight will never trust me again. But if I don't …

I locked eyes with her. “Would you be willing to give this some time? Will you promise me—I mean
really
promise me—that you won't make any decisions about becoming a vampire or drinking more blood without talking to me first? It's a very big deal.”

I let the honest concern I felt show in my face, and I watched the suspicion in her eyes soften into possibility as she sensed my sincerity. I really didn't want to bring in the police unless I absolutely had to, and I needed time to deepen our connection.

She heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Well, if I
have
to.”

Okay. I'll take that. It's better than nothing.

I persuaded her to put off the decision for a couple of weeks, and we spent the rest of the session exploring some of her background. “Tell me more about your father,” I asked, and she did. The hour flew by.

As she stood to leave she said, “I told some of the other kids about you, and a few of them might want to come and talk. Would that be okay?”

“Sure. That would be great.” I gathered some business cards from my desk and handed them to her. “Just ask them to call to schedule an appointment.”

I walked her into the reception area, where she stopped with her hand on the doorknob and turned toward me again. “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. I told Dev I was coming to see you that first time—that my parents were making me see a shrink—and he was very interested. Well, anyway, he was waiting for me at the Crypt that night, and he asked me lots of questions about you and our session. He asked me what you look like. I told him everything. He said he might drop in to meet you sometime, and that I should tell you.”

Why does he care about how I look? I'm obviously too old for his taste.

“If he'd like to make an appointment, I'll be happy to see him.”

“It would have to be at night.” She grinned mischievously.

“That's perfectly fine—I do see clients in the evenings.” I didn't add that it was one of my least favorite things to do and that I avoided it whenever possible. But if I was going to specialize in vampire wannabes, I guessed I'd have to get used to the nocturnal schedule.

She left, and I went back into my office.

I met with a few more clients that afternoon and early evening and had just kicked off my shoes when I heard the door to the reception area open. I quickly scanned my appointment book to make sure I hadn't forgotten anyone. Finding I hadn't, I put my shoes back on and opened my office door.

Sitting in one of the chairs in the waiting room was the very same gorgeous, blond-haired, leather-clad man I'd seen outside my building and in Midnight's drawing.

My stomach lurched, and I think I gasped out loud.

He stood when I opened the door, and it was a fluid motion, as if he had simply willed himself vertical. His body was all lean muscle radiating some kind of primal power. He moved elegantly over to me and gave a slight bow of his head. He offered the kind of smile that made my Inner Nerd want to fan herself and hide in the closet.

He was dressed in black. His snug leather pants, form-fitting silk T-shirt, and long leather duster gave the impression of high fashion rather than Harley-Davidsons.

I froze in the doorway with my mouth hanging open, speechless, staring into the most amazing pair of turquoise eyes I'd ever seen.

He picked up my hand gently and kissed the back, his lips soft and silky. “I am Devereux. Is this a good time for an appointment?”

So many emotions slammed against one another inside me that I didn't know which one to act on first. Fear decided to step to the front of the line, and my mind began to weigh options in case the man physically attacked me. He didn't seem menacing at the moment, but he was much bigger and stronger than me, and I hadn't spent nearly enough time in the gym. Hell, I hadn't spent any. Obviously, he had.

My heart raced, and I still hadn't formed a coherent sentence or done anything beyond stare at him like a zombie. What was happening to me? My eyelids felt as though they were coated with cement, my jaw sagged open, the air suddenly became thick, and a sumo wrestler was pounding on my chest. The normal background white noise acquired a sharp edge and turned into a persistent buzz, vibrating in my ears. I felt as if I was in some kind of trance.

“I am very sorry.” He took a step back from me and released my hand. “I have frightened you. That was never my intention—sometimes I forget how intense we can be. You must be a keenly sensitive individual. I will endeavor to control myself. Please accept my sincere apologies.”

You will endeavor to control yourself? I'm the one having the meltdown here.

He lowered his gaze for a moment, and when he met my eyes again, the tension drained from my muscles and I could breathe. It felt as though a switch had been thrown, and I was once again in charge of my bodily functions. I could still hear the hum in my ears, but it had diminished in volume. I ran my tongue over my very dry lips.

“You did startle me. I wasn't expecting anyone this evening.”

“Again, my sincere apologies.”

Both times I'd seen this man, he'd caused my anxiety levels to blast through the roof. I wanted to scream at him that it was absolutely
not
acceptable that he'd come unannounced to my office and that his habit of lurking around me was going to earn him a trip to the police station. He was altogether too sure of himself. I wanted him to know he couldn't just stroll in and expect me to drop everything and attend to him. No matter how gorgeous he was.

Instead, I swallowed the irritation, opted for whatever remnants of professional demeanor I could summon, and said, “Well, Mr. Devereux, why are you here?”

“Just Devereux.” He cocked his head and flashed that godlike smile again. “As I mentioned a moment ago, I had hoped this would be a good time for our appointment. I trust Midnight told you I wished to meet with you?”

His voice was unusually pleasant. The timbre of it flowed through me like a favorite song, as if I were listening to him with my entire body. He had a lilting European accent, sounding almost old-fashioned, like he'd stepped out of another century. Strange how a voice could be so enticing.

I closed my eyes and sniffed the air. What was that wonderful aroma? It seemed to hover around him like an olfactory aura. Maybe he used a special kind of soap or shampoo, something spicy and masculine and unusual.

He brushed a finger lightly along my arm. “Dr. Knight?”

My eyes flew open, and I realized I'd been standing there, blatantly reveling in his scent, making sniffing noises.
How embarrassing. What the hell is wrong with me? Come on, Kismet. Talking has always been your strong suit. Just one word at a time. Concentrate.

“Yes.” I cleared my throat. “She did mention that you might call to set up an appointment. Would you care to schedule one for later this week?” I inhaled a deep breath and tried to remain professional.

I was so nervous my stomach contracted, my hands were sweating, and my knee twitched. I'd always had a fear of small spaces, and something about this situation gave me that same closed-in, panicky feeling. He had done nothing obvious to make me afraid, but my entire body felt as if it was waiting for some other shoe to drop. He radiated danger. Almost raw power.

“Would it be terribly inconvenient for us to meet now, since I am here?”

That voice. Maybe he was a hypnotist and he knew how to use it to put people under. It was so soothing, I could stand there and listen to it all night.

I felt myself sliding down that slippery slope again and rallied. I needed to get this guy out of my office before I made a complete fool of myself.

If I'd known I was going to have a mental breakdown today, I'd have penciled it into my appointment book.

“I was just leaving. It would be much better if we could schedule another time—”

He reclaimed the step he'd given up and stated, as if the outcome was already a foregone conclusion, “I would appreciate very much the opportunity to speak with you about Midnight. I am concerned about her.”