Must Love Fangs

Chapter Twelve

Minnie. It is good to see you again,” Andre said, standing up as I approached the table. “You look beautiful, as always.”

Such a thoughtful lie. I looked like hell and knew I did. No amount of makeup could cover up the hollows under my eyes, and I looked weak because I was too tired and sick to even contemplate eating. I just wanted a long damn nap. Maybe a good cry. Unfortunately, I had to sit here and romance a vampire. I gave him a smile, hoping it looked more enthusiastic than I felt.

It wasn’t Andre’s fault that he wasn’t Josh, after all.

I’d taken care to look as good as I could. I’d worn a black cocktail dress that tied behind my neck and left a lot of shoulder and cleavage bare. I’d paired it with tall, open-toed heels and worn my hair twisted up, a few tendrils curling at my neck. When his glance went there, I knew that it didn’t matter how big the circles under my eyes were. I might as well have waved a red flag in front of a bull.

He took my hand, and I felt that disconcerting oddness of his cool flesh against my warm skin. He leaned in to kiss me and I panicked, averting my face so he kissed my cheek. “It’s good to see you, too,” I said, air-kissing his cheek in response.

He pulled away and gave me a scrutinizing look, but he didn’t comment on my reluctance to kiss him on the lips.

It was stupid, I knew. But the thought of kissing him again made me uneasy. Josh wasn’t here tonight to stop him if he drugged me again. I glanced around the crowded restaurant. “No bodyguards tonight?”

“Oh, I have one,” Andre said easily, moving to pull my chair out for me. As I sat, he leaned in and whispered in my ear. “But I didn’t think you liked the last one, so I changed things up a bit. I want you to feel easy in my presence, Minnie.”

I smiled, not sure if I was relieved or saddened that Josh wasn’t here. I hadn’t seen him and he hadn’t called, but why should he have called? I’d been horrible to him. “That was sweet of you to think of me, Andre. But he didn’t make me nervous.”

“Didn’t he? You watched him all night.”

My cheeks felt hot. Well, now. How to answer that? “Just wary, I suppose. Most men don’t need a bodyguard for their dates.”

“I am not most men,” he said and gave me a disarming smile.

“No, you’re not,” I said boldly and gave him my most direct, intense smile. Time to kick things up a notch. “That’s what I like about you.”

“Is it?” he chuckled, as if amused by my response. “You’ll be pleased with tonight’s bodyguard, I think.”

“Oh?” I scanned the wine menu. I’d need something strong soon. My stomach was churning and my head ached, a sure sign that I was going to start hallucinating. It made me anxious, and alcohol would help that.

“Yes,” Andre said, distracting me. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice him right away.”

I glanced up. “Why?”

“Because he’s one of the otter clan. Should be a cousin of yours.” His dark eyes watched me intently.

Oh, shit. I scanned the restaurant again. It was small and elegant, but the tables were only half full. There was no one seated by himself, and no one that seemed like a bodyguard. Unease fluttered in my stomach.

“Is there a problem, Minnie?” Andre asked coolly.

I looked back at him and realized he was no longer giving me that charming smile. Damn it. The gig was up. He’d figured me out. Or he knew something was wrong. Either way, I was fucked.

Utter panic shot through me, and I felt the urge to burst into tears.

Instead, I took a deep, calming breath and laid it all out on the table. “I lied,” I told him quietly. “I’m human and I’m looking for someone to turn me. That’s why I looked you up.”

“I see,” he said mildly. “And your real name?”

“It’s Marie.”

He studied me, leaning back in his chair as if he’d been the king of the world, deciding what to do with one of his subjects. After a long, long pause, he said, “Marie is a better name than Minnie.”

That . . . didn’t sound like rejection. “I like to think so.”

“Are you the Marie that works at the agency?”

“I am. That’s how I found you. I am a member of the Alliance, if you want to see my ID.”

He flicked a hand, as if brushing away a ridiculous thought. “So, tell me, Marie, what am I going to do with you?”

“I still want to date you,” I told him quickly.

“Correction. You want to be turned.”

I swallowed. Now I felt like a supplicant instead of the one in control of the date. And I felt like a whole lotta prey at the moment. But I needed to be turned. “Yes.”

“I am four hundred years old, my dear girl,” he said, and gone was the soft, laughing notes in his voice. In its place was utter boredom. Sheer jadedness. It struck me how well he’d been masking it all this time. “And in all that time, I have never turned someone to be my companion.”

My heart seized painfully. No! I refused to give up. “You hadn’t met me, though,” I said boldly, taking a page from Josh’s book. “I’d be honored to be your first.”

“Would you?” he said, and I thought I saw a hint of amusement on his face.

Before I could say more, the waiter dropped by, all pleasantries and smooth rolling voice as he began to recite the evening’s specials. Andre, who was all lazy smiles now, ordered an expensive bottle of wine for us and sent the waiter on his way.

“For someone who wishes for me to turn her, you were quick to avoid my kiss, darling Marie.”

“You didn’t tell me before that it was an aphrodisiac,” I pointed out.

“No, I did not,” he admitted, still amused.

“Then you’ll understand why I avoided it tonight. I need my wits about me.”

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.”

They were good words. Just what I needed to hear. And yet . . . “Then why won’t you look at me?” The words came out soft, aching.

“I’m . . . struggling with this,” he said, the words rough. “Because I see that bite on your neck and I know it’s exactly what you want, but it makes me an asshole because it makes me furious. I want to put my fist through a wall, and I know I should be congratulating you.”

Strangely enough, his fury made me feel better. I could safely tell him about the unhappiness and vague discomfort I had about my chosen path. I moved toward him, smoothing my hands over the shoulders of his jacket, admiring the way it hugged his large frame. He’d dressed up for me? A flush of desire crept over me. “You don’t have to congratulate me,” I told him softly. “I didn’t enjoy it.”

He turned and gave me an agonized look, and the breath sucked out of my throat. His dark eyes were tortured, his face drawn into harsh lines. The circles under his eyes told me that he wasn’t sleeping well, either. “What am I supposed to do, Marie? I want to rip his head off for touching you.” His eyes gleamed, catlike. “Instead, all I can do is sit here and try and support you, because I can’t stop you. If it’s what you need, I want you to get it. I just need to know where that puts me.”

I reached over and unplugged the fryer. My hand stole under his jacket, slipping around his waist. “It puts you in my arms. That’s exactly where I need you to be. Here. With me. Kissing me. Touching me.”

His jaw remained clenched. I felt the urge to kiss it and gave in to it, wrapping my other hand around his neck and drawing his face down so I could brush my lips over his unshaven cheek. He was stiff in my embrace, but not pulling away.

Angry, but wanting to be here with me. Conflicted.

I knew how that felt.

“Thank you,” I said softly, and kissed his hard mouth, pressing my body against his.

He grabbed my ass and pulled me against him, hard. His dark eyes stared into mine. “Don’t thank me just yet. I’m feeling rather territorial,” he rasped, his gaze going to my neck. “Fighting the urge to throw you down and mark the hell out of you to stake my claim.”

Liquid heat poured through me. Mmm. I stroked my hand up his shirt under the jacket, feeling the play of muscles and feeling the odd need to purr like a kitten. “Then don’t fight it.”

A low animal growl started in his throat. “Marie.”

I leaned in and traced my tongue ever so lightly against the tight seam of his lips. My body pulsed with need—need for him, need for the promise in his voice. I brushed my breasts against his chest, my nipples hardening deliciously at the friction. “I’m yours, Josh.”

For tonight, anyhow.

His hand went to the back of my neck and he was holding me, pinned, and his mouth swooped over mine. It was a hard, branding kiss. This wasn’t the light, playful flirting we’d done before. This was a claim of territory, of possession, of ownership. It was delicious.

“You sure you want to say that to me?”

“Absolutely,” I breathed.