Sweetblood 02.5 - Enchanted by Blood Page 2

  Over the past year, there’d been many times when he’d ached to see her, wanted to drive past her house to see the light on in her kitchen window. The thought had even crossed his mind to “casually” bump into her from time to time. In line at her favorite Starbucks. At the bakery where she bought her bread. At the pet store where she bought Augustus’s special cat food. He could’ve easily inserted himself back into her life, but he hadn’t. He’d remained true to his promise, his pledge to stay away. Until now.

  He recalled the way she’d looked at him under the streetlights. She’d been leery at first, frightened. Yet there she was in her car. Waiting for him.

  Doubt nagged at the back of his mind. Maybe the memory wipe hadn’t been deep enough. Could she have remembered him on some level, enough to know that he wasn’t a threat?

  Impossible, he decided as he tugged at his already-loosened tie and headed across the lot. He’d been thorough and very careful. Others he’d worked with over the years in the Agency may have been reckless and foolhardy, but not him.

  As he approached Charlotte’s car, he tried not to think about how long it’d been since he’d last seen her. Tonight, she was simply a stranger he’d helped, not someone with whom he’d once had a passionate affair.

  Yes, just a stranger.

  He knocked on the driver’s side window.

  Charlotte jumped, her eyes widening before she rolled it down halfway. Holy hell, she looked good. Twin spots of color formed on her cheeks, her skin just as smooth and touchable as he remembered.

  “Did you—”

  “What the hell are you still doing here?”

  Her jaw dropped as if he had slapped her. “You told me to wait, didn’t you?”

  “And you always do what a stranger tells you?” Things would’ve been so much easier if she had left. He didn’t want to deal with her. He just wanted to forget her.

  Why did I ask her to wait then?

  Irritated with himself, he wanted to pound on something again. Split-second decisions for a vampire among humans, especially a Council member, had to be the correct ones. Slipups and mistakes could be costly. Why did he always forget who he was and what his responsibilities were when he was around this woman?

  Her chin jutted out indignantly. “I couldn’t just leave. Not without knowing what happened.”

  “Why? You don’t know me.”

  “Well…I…” For a moment she looked flustered, unsure of herself. Then, just as quickly, her expression darkened. “If I think the stranger is a cop, then yeah, I listen. I might need to give a statement or something. I don’t know how these things work. It’s not like I’ve ever been the victim of an almost-mugging before.”

  More like an almost-murder, he thought bitterly. “A cop would identify himself. I didn’t.”

  “Yeah, I get that now.” With a shaky hand, she tucked her chin-length raven hair behind an ear.

  “You’re way too trusting,” he growled.

  “Gee, thanks for the insight.” She grabbed the keys, sucking a hissing breath through her teeth as she tried to turn the ignition.

  “What’s wrong? Did they hurt you? I thought—” If he knew those two bastards had touched her, he wouldn’t have arranged for a pickup. He’d have staked them then and there and watched their bodies turn to ash.

  “I’m fine,” she said curtly. “Thanks for coming to my aid.”

  No, she wasn’t. “Let me see your hand.” He opened the door and leaned in.

  She gasped.

  Damn. He was being too forward with her, forgetting that he needed to act as if she were a stranger to him. To make himself less intimidating, he knelt so that he had to look up at her face.

  The faintly vanilla scent of her skin filled his nostrils, bringing back all sorts of memories. Talking. Laughing. Long walks through the city. Burying his nose in her hair as he made love to her.

  He ground his teeth together and forced those thoughts from his head. Relationships with humans were frowned upon, especially for a Councilperson who was supposed to set an example for others to follow. Although matings between vampires didn’t always produce offspring, those with a human never would. Maintaining their population, especially given that its numbers were so low, had always been one of their prime objectives.

  His relationship with Charlotte last year had progressed quickly. What he’d intended to be just an indulgence had turned out to be so much more. Although she hadn’t known the truth about him, he had begun having real feelings for her. Then there was that horrible business with his cousin, which, coupled with the deathbed promise he’d made to his father several months before, had been the catalyst that had forced him to do the right thing. Over and over he’d told himself it was a blessing in disguise when he had to wipe her memory. She could never know the truth about him. Not only did she deserve much more than a relationship built on lies, but if he wanted the Council to vote him in, things between them had to end.

  “I told you, I’m fine. I don’t need your help. You can leave now.” Her voice was strained and she still looked frightened from her ordeal. He’d been too short with her.

  This would be the perfect opportunity to step away and close the car door, let her leave, he told himself. But his feet felt cemented to the spot. “Please.”

  She hesitated, but still didn’t give him her hand.

  “Those two were bad news. I figured you’d just drive away.” He ran a finger inside his suddenly too-tight collar.

  She looked appalled. “Without knowing what happened? What if you had needed help? It was two against one, you know.”

  Touched by her concern, he resisted the urge to reach out to her, run a finger along her jaw. Nothing had changed about her. She was still more concerned for someone else’s well-being than her own. Hell, if he’d thought things through, he’d have known she wouldn’t leave without finding out what had happened to him.

  He’d count to three, he told himself, and if she still refused his help, he’d go.

  One. Two.

  She held out her hand and he took it before he said three.

  The instant he touched her, a jolt of electricity shot up his arm and she gave a gasp of surprise. Just as quickly, he put up a mental barrier to stop the sensation.

  He’d forgotten how easily her energies transferred to him. Or how easily his body accepted them. Most humans couldn’t feel when a vampire was absorbing their energies like this; they’d simply be more lethargic than normal. But Charlotte sure did.

  “Sorry about the static electricity. Happens to me sometimes.” Gently, he turned her hand over, trying to ignore the residual warmth flowing through his system.

  There were some minor abrasions on the skin, he noted as he brushed off the dirt. Had she broken a bone? Torn a ligament? As gently as he could, he felt the joint. “Does this hurt?”

  “A little, but it’s nothing. If it’s bad tomorrow, I’ll go have it checked.”

  A knot twisted in his gut as he thought about watching her drive off again the way he’d done last year.

  “Hold on,” he said, stalling. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee and we’ll get you some ice. There’s a late-night diner on the next corner. It’ll give you a chance to catch your breath before you leave.”

  She seemed to be examining his hands as he held hers. Her wrists were tiny and he could easily encircle them with his fingers.

  “I don’t even know your name,” she said quietly.

  “It’s Trace.” He purposefully didn’t give his last name. She shouldn’t recognize it, and yet…

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you, Trace. I’m Charlotte.” She lifted her lashes, the turquoise blue of her eyes meeting his.

  And after a moment between heartbeats that seemed to stretch forever, she agreed to have coffee with him.

  Ten minutes later, they were sitting in a booth, staring at a plate of stale cake doughnuts they ha
dn’t ordered.

  “I’ll bring you that ice in a minute, hon,” their waitress said, heading back to the counter.

  Charlotte looked at the doughnuts then raised her eyebrows quizzically.

  Trace shrugged. “When you come in late like this, they bring out any extras to get rid of them. They’re not bad if you dunk them.”

  “I don’t eat carbs at night.”

  That was right. He’d forgotten. “Suit yourself.”

  He added cream to his coffee and stirred it around with his finger. Then he broke a doughnut in half, dipped it and took a bite.

  When he glanced up, Charlotte was looking at him, a mixture of amusement and disgust on her face. “What?”

  “Ever heard of a spoon before? It’s an eating utensil first used by ancient Egyptians, originally made from ivory, bone and wood.”

  He leaned back against the red vinyl and laughed. Yes, his dunking was rather uncivilized. Being a Guardian hadn’t done much for his manners. He often slipped back into old habits when he wasn’t thinking about it. “Thank you for that trivia lesson.”

  “My pleasure.”

  He rubbed a hand over his stubble as he studied her. She lifted the white coffee mug to her lips, blew off the steam and took a sip. Evidently not finding it too hot, she took another one.

  That raven hair of hers swung playfully against her delicate jawbone as she moved. Earrings with ruby and amber crystals dangled like pendulums. Her cheeks were still flushed from the cold, and she kept her lips parted slightly, even after setting down her cup, as if she were catching her breath.

  Or as if they’d just made love.

  Intimate memories immediately flooded his thoughts. He was as powerless now to resist her charms as he’d been when they first met.

  Last year, his grandmother had hired her to decorate the family estate for the holidays. Despite trying to remain aloof, he’d found various excuses to be with her. Not only was she one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met, but he loved her funny stories, her sharp wit, her passion for making things beautiful. He could walk into one of the many rooms in the mansion and know that Charlotte had done something to it, even if he couldn’t put his finger on what had changed. All he knew was that the room had a better feel.

  The fact that she cared about the smallest detail fascinated him. Things he’d never deemed important—the placement of a decoration, the way the lights needed to hang just so, the perfect pleat in a pillow—began to have meaning to him because they had meaning to her. Hell, he’d even gotten into the habit of doing the karate-chop thing to fancy pillows, because it was something she’d done.

  Everything about her was unexpected, including the first time they’d made love. He’d been helping her decorate one of a dozen holiday trees inside the mansion—each one with a different theme. As he recalled, this particular tree had a forest animal motif or something. She’d been on the ladder, reaching forward to hang a wooden squirrel ornament, when she lost her balance. He’d caught her before she hit the floor. He still remembered how she’d smelled that day. Like vanilla with a touch of evergreen tree. She’d even had pitch on her fingertips.

  Before he’d known what he was doing, he’d kissed her. And she’d kissed him right back. The next moment, one hand was sliding under her red cashmere sweater and the other went to her tight little bottom. When she responded by curving her hips against his and wrapping her arms around his neck, it was all over.

  Thank God they’d been in the library. He’d kicked the door closed, locked it and set her down roughly on the edge of the desk. Before he’d even unzipped his trousers, she’d lifted her skirt and removed her panties. He could still remember her fingers digging into his backside and the beautiful sound she’d made when he—

  “Hello. Anyone in there?”

  He blinked to find Charlotte looking at him, an ice pack on her wrist. The waitress was looking at him, too, her order pad out, her pencil poised above it.

  And he had one monster hard-on beneath the paper napkin in his lap. Shit.

  “What was the question?” He crossed his legs, put a hand casually over his knee.

  “It’s a complicated one,” Charlotte said. “It goes something like this—‘Can I take your order’?”

  Smart-ass. He laughed, balled up his napkin and tossed it at her. “What are you having?”

  “I’m fine with just coffee.”

  To the waitress he said, “I’ll have two eggs, over easy, with a side of bacon and an orange juice.” Ordering a meal would stretch the time he had with her. He waited until the waitress left to address Charlotte again. “So tell me, what you were doing walking alone on the streets at night?”

  “I wasn’t. Not really.”

  “Well, it sure looked that way when I saw you.” What the hell had she been thinking anyway? He knew precisely the kind of filth that roamed the streets at night and Charlotte had no business leaving herself vulnerable to it.

  She told him about her friend leaving her stranded at the night club and about following a group of women almost to her car.

  “Almost?” he asked her. “Almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.”

  “Isn’t it supposed to be close?” She lifted an eyebrow as if to taunt him, her eyes sparkling with mischief over the rim of her coffee mug.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The expression is, ‘close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.’ Not almost.”

  He’d forgotten how she’d loved being right and pointing out how he was wrong about things that didn’t matter. Just like his grandmother, she was a trivia hound and a member of the grammar police. Which was probably why the two had gotten along so well. His grandmother had been sorely disappointed when he’d told her about wiping Charlotte’s memory—she hadn’t spoken to him for weeks afterward. But she knew the rules just as well as he did. If humans found out about the existence of vampires, their memories had to be erased.

  There’d been too many instances in the past when this hadn’t been done and rumors of vampire attacks panicked whole villages. Those had been dark days for their kind, caused by a few careless individuals. The Council was formed to establish a rule of law for his kind to live by in order to keep their existence secret.

  Charlotte was looking at him expectantly. He almost argued with her about the horseshoe thing—he was pretty sure she was wrong—but he didn’t. He couldn’t let her affect him that way. The playful teasing. The easy back-and-forth. He couldn’t let her work her way into his heart again. For his sake and hers, he needed to remain detached. He’d stay long enough to make sure she was okay to drive and that would be it.

  When the waitress returned with their order, his stomach growled. He’d had no idea how hungry he was. The meeting tonight at the field office had involved dinner, but he hadn’t felt like eating then.

  “How is your wrist feeling?” he asked, lifting the eggs onto the toast with a fork. “Is the ice helping? Think you’ll be ready to drive in a few minutes?”

  A shadow passed across her features. She nodded and turned slightly away from him, rattling her coffee mug as she set it in the saucer. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  She was not fine. She was clearly still shaken up. Frazzled. Hell, knowing what those guys had been planning still had him freaked-out, too.

  While Charlotte had another cup of coffee, he finished eating. He couldn’t let her drive home like this, he decided. No way, no matter how unwise it was to prolong his time with her.

  “I’ll give you a lift and you can come back for your car tomorrow.”

  “No, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “You didn’t. I offered.”

  She sucked in her lower lip, chewed on it a moment as she played with the balled-up napkin he’d thrown at her.

  He tried again. “I won’t be able to relax until I see that you’re home safe and sound.”

  If
she said no, he could always follow her. Or he could check up on her later, assuming she lived in that same little house east of Lake Washington. Yeah, he could make sure she was safe, but she’d still be freaked-out. The overwhelming urge to comfort her and take away her fear was too much for him to ignore.

  She narrowed her eyes, tilted her head just slightly. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

  “Not at all.” He could’ve sworn he saw a hint of relief in her expression. He quickly paid the bill and ushered her out of the restaurant.

  CHAPTER THREE

  WHAT HAD POSSESSED HER to let this man drive her home? In her car?

  With one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the console between them, he sat comfortably in the driver’s seat of the Volvo, as if he’d been driving strange women home all his life.

  She studied him out of the corner of her eye. He appeared to be in his early to mid-thirties, the lines in his face apparent only when he frowned or smiled. His light brown hair was fairly short, yet long enough to look messy. Bed-head messy. He had large, capable hands, with slender fingers and short, neat nails. She’d always felt you could tell a lot from a man’s hands. His were fairly smooth, but there was a rugged quality to them that suggested they hadn’t always been that way. If those hands were anything to go by, she’d guess he had brains and brawn.

  One of the most attractive men she’d ever seen, he had an intense magnetism about him that was undeniable. If he’d kissed her back in the restaurant, she was pretty certain she wouldn’t have refused him. But letting him drive her home? God, what was she thinking?

  Rather than taking his car, he’d insisted they take hers, then he’d call a cab to bring him back. At first she’d protested. He’d done enough to help her out. But when she remembered her busy day tomorrow, she had second thoughts. The meeting with Mrs. Wilson was first thing in the morning. If she had to come back beforehand to pick up her car, it’d put her way behind schedule. She just couldn’t do that to the woman. Her client was keyed up enough as it was.