Dead and Dateless

by Kimberly Raye

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “That you’re not exactly the best judge of character.”

  “For your information, I’m an excellent judge of character. I can see right through anyone.”

  “Except other vampires,” he pointed out.

  I gave him a pointed stare. “Oh, yeah? I can see right through you.”

  “Is that so?” He stepped toward me.

  While I’ve never been one to cower in front of any male—vamp or otherwise—I found myself stepping back.

  Not out of, you know, fear or anything. We’re talk ing pure, unadulterated, just call me “Old Faithful” lust.

  My nerves hummed and my pulse quickened. The sound thundered through my ears. He stepped even closer and my gaze anchored on the small scar just shy of his eyebrow. I wanted to reach out and touch the flesh, feel it beneath the pad of my finger, imagine what sort of man he’d been when he’d been wounded. Just a man.

  My nostrils flared, drinking in the delicious aroma of worn leather and soap and fierce male. Talk about yum.

  “Then why did you ask me about helping you? If you’re so insightful, then you tell me why.”

  “Because I asked.” I tossed his words back at him and he grinned.

  His bright blue eyes sparked, blazing with a sudden feral intensity that made me take another step back, and another, until I came up against the wall. Sheetrock pressed into my backside, while Ty plastered himself to my front.

  He leaned into me, his erection hard and thick against my leg. Catching my elbows with his hands, he slid his fingertips up my bare flesh, until his palms rested on my shoulders. His thumbs played at the edges of my clavicle.

  Electricity sizzled through me from my head to my toes, and damned if it didn’t pause at several choice spots in between.

  Duh. He’s questioning your judgment of character—the jackass. Of course, your heart is pounding and your body is tingling. You’re thoroughly pissed.

  My head knew that, but my arms…They weren’t as quick to agree. But they were quick to snake around his neck. I pressed my lips to his.

  He stiffened at first (the rest of him, that is) but then his resistance seemed to crumble. His mouth opened and his tongue darted out to tangle with mine.

  Where I’d initiated, he quickly took the lead, press ing me up against the wall and devouring me. His mouth was hot and wet and hot. It was the best kiss of my life.

  Even better than the first time he’d kissed me while hovering outside an eighth floor window, watching a human couple have S and M sex.

  “You like me,” I murmured when we both finally came up for air. I leaned my head back against the wall, a smile playing at my lips, and closed my eyes. “I knew it.”

  “So what if I do?” He nibbled my neck. “It doesn’t change who I am.”

  “A nice guy,” I breathed, all the while my con science whispered, “A made guy.”

  But we’re talking nibbling.

  “You bought me bottled blood,” I added to emphasize my point—and drown out the whole made thing.

  “Maybe I’m just protecting my investment.”

  “Maybe. Then again, we’re talking my favorite blood type.”

  His grip on my shoulders tightened until it bordered on painful and killed my smile. My eyes snapped open to find that he’d abandoned the nibbling. He stared back at me, his look fierce, his eyes the brightest blue I’d ever seen them.

  “You don’t know anything about me, Lil. You don’t know who I am. What I’m capable of doing. What I’ve done.”

  The thing was, I did. I knew him. I know it sounds ludicrous, but I felt…safe with him. Even now with his gaze drilling into me and his fingers biting into my skin.

  Because I knew it wouldn’t go beyond that. My body was completely and totally safe with him. As for my heart…That was a different matter altogether.

  I ignored the last thought (for obvious reasons, including the whole made vampire issue) and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “You helped me after I got staked in the shoulder.”

  “For my own pleasure.” His grip softened just enough to ease the pressure. He feathered his lips over mine before grazing a path across my cheek. “Not yours,” he murmured in my ear. “I liked having you draw on my vein. It felt good.”

  “So you only agreed to help me because of the bounty on my head? If that’s true, then say it. Look me in the eyes and say it.”

  Please look me in the eyes. Because with your mouth so close to my neck, all I can think about is you taking a bite and then me taking a bite, and then you. And then me. You. Me. You. Me. Me. Me…

  His lips trailed from my ear, down my throat, tracing my jugular. His body stiffened and a growl tickled my skin, followed by the sharp prickle as he unsheathed his fangs.

  A sliver of fear worked its way up my spine and I stiffened.

  Crazy, I know. Biting was a totally erotic experience, and not the least bit scary.

  But this…This went beyond the two of us and the desire that drew us together so tightly it felt almost suffocating at times.

  This was all about Ty and the emotion tearing him up inside.

  “Pain and agony and self-loathing.”

  As soon as the deep voice sounded in my head, he jerked away from me. His image was little more than a blur before I heard the door slam, and then I was alone.

  I leaned against the wall, my heart pounding and my lips tingling.

  What was that about?

  I wasn’t sure, but I had the gut feeling that it had something to do with his past before becoming a vampire. Maybe he’d been a terrible, awful human and his horrible, criminal actions had led him to be coming a vampire.

  So that he could right his wrong?

  Or spend forever agonizing over it?

  I really don’t do pain and agony all that well, let alone self-loathing, so I ignored the questions and focused on the one thing I could deal with at the moment—being majorly ticked off.

  My mind reversed back through the past few delicious moments, through the like and the lust and the awww, poor thing, and latched onto the actual conversation we’d had.

  I blew out an exasperated breath and tried to process his words. What was it he’d said? Something about me compromising our position and getting us staked and apologizing—

  Apologize? As if I’d done anything wrong.

  I’d merely been following his advice.

  Connect with your parents, he’d said. Let them know you’re okay.

  Sure, I’d connected via an actual face-to-face rather than the suggested phone call, but it was the principle of the thing that mattered.

  If you looked at it that way, I’d done exactly what he’d said. Not that he should be giving me orders in the first place. I mean, hel—lo? We’d evolved to the twenty-first century. I was a mature, rather attractive born vampire fully capable of making my own decision.

  I didn’t need some overbearing made vampire dictating to me. I hadn’t lived five hundred years (and holding) by being stupid.

  Spoiled maybe, but not stupid.

  If anyone should apologize, it should be Ty.

  You said it, sister. Talk about balls. All he’s done is give you a safe place to stay (regardless of his motivation) and a helping hand to untie the noose tightening around your neck while you’ve (a) risked getting yourself caught by flying around in full view of New York to round up alpha males and (b) dragged him in for aiding and abetting by mentioning his name to the chief of the Fairfield Police Department. Yep, he owes you big time.

  Okay. Maybe I could kind of see his point.

  I headed for the front door.

  When I reached the street, I did a visual search for his familiar muscular bod, and came up with nada. It was late by human standards—well after three in the morning—and the street was empty. He was probably long gone, but I drank in the scents surrounding me anyway.

  The overwhelming aroma of oregano and garlic drifted fr
om the Italian restaurant near the corner. The sharp scent of newsprint wafted from the newsstand locked up tight across the street. The smell of coffee grounds and old tuna fish carried from a nearby Dumpster.

  I scrunched up my nose and turned in the opposite direction.

  A breeze wafted, bringing with it the faintest hint of leather and hunky male and something else…something sticky and sweet and…blood.

  The realization should have clued me in to what was going on, but I was wound too tight. I hadn’t gotten laid in as long as I could remember (the multispeed Rabbit The Ninas had bought me didn’t count) and I hadn’t had more than a few sips of dinner at my parents. I so wasn’t thinking with my head.

  I moved swiftly, letting the scent lure me until I found myself more than a block away, standing in front of what had once been a giant warehouse. The building had been renovated and now housed an upscale home décor shop and an art gallery that featured local artists.

  But it wasn’t the jeweled Christian Dior frame surrounding the abstract featured in the front display that stopped me cold (although it was choice).

  It was the sound.

  Ka-thunk. Ka-thunk. Ka-thunk.

  The pulse beat echoed in my head and drew me around the side of the massive building, toward a small alley that separated it from a sports bar and grill.

  My gaze sliced through the darkness to the couple who stood at the end of the alley near a mountain of empty beer crates and several trash cans.

  The woman was a tall and leggy brunette. She stood pinned to the wall by the man in front of her who was feasting on her neck.

  Ty.

  My stomach hollowed out and my chest hitched. Crazy, I know. I’d seen vamps drink before. Hell, I was a vamp and I’d certainly drank before. The sight shouldn’t freak me out.

  Still. We’re talking Ty. Drinking. From someone who’s name didn’t start with L and end with il.

  Not that I wanted him to drink from me, mind you. I had enough problems. I’d quickly dismissed the little exchange back at his apartment as mucho stress syndrome. I had, after all, compromised our position. Talk about anxiety, which equaled frantic, which equaled zero common sense. No more.

  At the same time, we were sort of living together. We were connected. Even more, he liked me. And I liked him.

  Yet here he was drinking from someone else.

  Cheating bastard.

  The thought rushed from my mind before I could stop it and Ty’s head snapped up. Blood gushed from his mouth and splattered the woman’s white tank top. His fierce blue gaze sliced through the darkness and collided with mine.

  My first instinct was to turn the other way. A lot of people might think it was because I have a weak stomach. That’s what I thought. Until Ty looked at me and I realized in a startling instant the real reason I avoided blood (other than the bottled sort) and, especially, the whole biting issue.

  He was as beautiful as he was fierce. A primitive male completely at ease to take what he wanted, to overpower and consume.

  My nipples tingled and my stomach growled. A hunger as old as time and just as fierce welled inside. It was as painful as it was sweet, and as all-consuming.

  I’d felt it before (in my earlier, wilder, totally temporary days) and my body remembered. My nerves latched onto the sensation, welcoming it until it gripped me tightly, completely, and urged me to step forward.

  To take what I so desperately wanted, with no thought to the consequence. Be it Ty. Or the sweet crimson heat. Or both.

  I braced myself against the need and clung to the one and only thought I should have had at that moment—besides cheating bastard, that is.

  Namely yuck.

  The woman gasped, the sound like an explosion in my head, disrupting the hypnotic lure of her pulse. I tore my gaze from Ty’s.

  And then, because yuck wasn’t working and I was this close to giving in to my inner vampire, I turned and started walking.

  I ended up back at Ty’s loft. But not right away (I walked at least an hour) and not because I didn’t have anyplace else to go at four in the morning.

  I went back because of my two suitcases, one of which held my newest acquisition—this great little Dolce & Gabbana number that had been a steal. I couldn’t skip out on my buddy Dolce.

  “Lil.” Ty’s voice carried from the doorway.

  “I’ll be out of here as soon as I get my stuff.” I shoved the nightshirt I’d worn the day before into the opening.

  “You’re not going anywhere.” He stood directly behind me now, but I didn’t turn around.

  I wasn’t going to look at him.

  “Yes, I am. I’m so outta here.”

  He shook his head. “Why?”

  Good question. Because he’d…and I’d…and I was afraid we’d…

  Are you, like, five or five hundred years old? The man’s a vampire. He bites women for sustenance. That’s what he does.

  Okay, I knew that. I understood it (being that I had my own inner vampire). But knowing it and seeing it…Therein lies the monumental difference.

  “She was really pretty.” The words were out before I could stop them.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Nice body. The hair wasn’t very impressive. A bottled job if I’ve ever seen one. But otherwise, she was sort of hot.”

  “She was dinner.”

  “An attractive dinner.”

  “Is that what this is about? You’re mad because I bit someone?”

  “No.” I kept stuffing my case to avoid looking at him.

  “You are. You’re mad because—”

  “I am not mad. I just don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be here.”

  “Why?”

  “Because.” I ran out of my own stuff and reached for one of his discarded T-shirts. I shoved it in with my own things.

  “Because why?”

  “Because I like you, all right?” My hands trembled. “I like you and I shouldn’t like you. Other than being exceptionally hot, there’s really nothing remotely attractive about you. You’re bossy and overbearing and all wrong for someone like me.” I worked at the clasp of my suitcase.

  “I’m not helping you because of the bounty.” His words drew my attention and I glanced up. Our gazes collided. “I’ve collected more bounties than I know what to do with. I’m helping you because—”

  The words died on his lips and his head swiveled toward the street. Red and blue lights lit up the darkness. Tires screeched. Engines sputtered. Doors slammed.

  “Shit.” In the blink of an eye, Ty stood at the windows and peered down at the street below. “They’re here.”

  My heart thundered. “They can’t be here.” My gaze darted from the windows to the door and back. “They don’t know where here is.”

  He turned toward me. “They do now.”

  Hinges creaked. Wood splintered. Footsteps clamored up the back stairs. The freight elevator kicked into gear, creaking toward Ty’s loft.

  “I don’t suppose you have a trap door?”

  “Under the bed.” He moved at the speed of light and gripped one of the bedposts. A flick of his wrist and the thick wood slid across the floor like a hockey puck gliding across ice. Flipping back a rug, he revealed a square hatch.

  “I was joking.”

  “I wasn’t.” He eased his fingers into the two small holes cut into the wood and lifted. Metal groaned and popped as the hinges twisted. “This place used to be an old slaughterhouse around the turn of the century.”

  They didn’t call it the meatpacking district for nothing.

  “We’re standing in the kill area. The carcasses were then tossed down a chute that led to the first floor where they were stored for disposal.” He motioned me over. “The people who renovated the place put in a staircase to connect the bottom levels and make the building one huge living space. The folks who bought them out wanted more bang for their buck so they converted one massive apartment into three and got rid of the staircase. They were too cheap
to redo the flooring. They locked the hatch and tossed a rug over it. It wasn’t a deal breaker when I was looking for a place, but it did help sell me.”

  “You do a lot of running from the cops?”

  He shook his head. “He’s not a cop.”

  He?

  Before I could voice the question, he grabbed me by the arm.

  “I can’t just leave my stuff.”

  “You’ve got five seconds to get basic necessities.”

  In a flash, I reached for my cosmetics bag, purse, and cell phone. I was just about to grab a suitcase when Ty’s voice exploded in my head.

  “Move!”

  His hand closed over my arm, and I found myself pulled toward the trap door. He shoved me through the opening.

  I landed on a tapestry rug (I know, right? nobody does tapestry anymore) that covered the floor in the apartment below Ty’s.

  The floor plan was basically the same except that Ty’s neighbor had set up the living room where Ty had put his bedroom, and the bedroom in the living room spot. Luckily, or we would have pounced on some poor schmoe and his girlfriend during their early morning quickie.

  They stopped humping and their heads swiveled in our direction.

  “Don’t mind us,” I mumbled as Ty flung back the rug and yanked at the next hatch. “Just passing through.” Hinges creaked and groaned. We dropped through the opening to the first floor.

  The loudest snore I’d ever heard bounced off the walls and surrounded us. I gazed toward the man who slept in the full-size bed just a few feet away. He wore an eye mask and a facial mask (I’m guessing Clinique Cucumber Madness). His nostrils flapped. His chest lifted. A loud “Ugggggggg” filled the room.

  I started for the door while Ty kicked aside yet another rug.

  “We’re on the first floor, dumbass.” I sent him the silent message as I reached for the doorknob.

  “I know, dipstick.” His gaze met mine. “This place was owned by a large company that held title to the whole block. There’s an underground level where the meat was cured and stored. It connects all four buildings on this street. I don’t think it’s been used for quite a while, but I know it’s still there.”

  I knew it, too. I could hear the scurry of a rat somewhere below. The scent of old cedar mingled with smoke made me wrinkle up my nose.