by JF Holland
In the middle of a gaggle of females, all fluttering their lashes and pushing out their pumped-up breasts, stood an imposing, gorgeous figure. Jet-black hair, wearing a dark fitted suit, that fit him to perfection. He’d teemed it with a crisp, white shirt, the top few buttons undone, bringing attention to his lightly tanned throat and a few dark chest hairs peeking through the gap. One of the women leaned over and said something. She didn’t catch what she said over the noise, but she did hear his rumble of husky laughter. His head tipped back and the sound vibrated through her, eliciting a flutter of interest in her stomach. When his amusement died down, his chin dipped, his eyes seemed to catch and hold her own, making Jill’s breath catch in her throat. His eyes were purple, or so it seemed. Surely not, purple was not a natural eye colour. Then she shook her head, the movement breaking their connection and she rolled her own eyes as she turned her back on him and his entourage. Obviously, he must be wearing contacts. Although, surely, he was old enough to not need something so pretentious to garner attention. He also didn’t seem lacking in confidence, not from the little she’d seen, and not surprising really. I mean, he was built, and very easy on the eye, tall and muscular, but not to bodybuilder proportions. There was just enough to fill out his suit nicely, making the expensive looking material hug a bicep as he lifted a hand to sweep back his hair. It was longer than it looked because as he’d laughed it had fallen forward and into his face. His finely chiselled face.
“Get a grip,” she mumbled to herself. Deciding she was no better than the crowd of simpering females presently surrounding him.
Jill ordered a vodka and tonic to take her mind off him and his dark good looks. A twinge of guilt hit her. While she waited on her order she looked around, trying to figure out where – or who – her date was? She quite liked that the dating site didn’t allow photographs, and phone numbers were against their rules also. I mean, she was thrilled, because it meant that people were matched on likes and dislikes, and not on an image; a false one in most cases. Especially one taken with filters or where they were photo shopped to within an inch; or a few extra inches added in some cases, well the ones below the belt anyway. It also stopped them from using pictures of celebrities in their stead also. I mean, as if anyone would fall for that one. One idiot; on a previous site, had used an ‘A’ lister’s photograph as his picture and details. As if a multiple six figure earner would need to use a cheap dating site, please. So, as far as she was concerned, the no picture rule was a wonderful touch. It also took the pressure off as it hopefully gave you common ground and something you could build on. Not just coming across a picture and thinking, ooh, isn’t he; or she fit, a general knee jerk reaction to a good-looking person. Which meant you ended up dating someone completely unsuitable, but you kept going back because they were good to look at. It was just a pity that Amanda had put down that she enjoyed walking and poetry. Because, damn, she hated walking, and as for exercise, getting up and going to work was as far as she was willing to go in that department. I mean, it took a huge amount of energy to get up and go to do a job she was bored of each day. As for poetry, yes, it had its merits, and she’d admit there was some beautiful poetry around, but the closest she’d gotten to writing or reading it recently was on the inside of a birthday card. Now reading, that she loved, but only trashy romance novels, and only if no one was watching as they were her guilty pleasure. They were to be guarded like a teen with his precious, and well-worn porn stash.
Her thoughts were interrupted as the bartender arrived with her drink. Paying and tipping, Jill took a fortifying sip with a sigh, Dutch courage at its finest. She just hoped it wouldn’t be needed, as she again looked around her, then realised that her jacket was covering her blouse. Putting her drink back down, she removed her jacket and folded it on her lap with her bag, before once more, curiously looking around her. She didn't have a clue who she was looking for, so tried to figure out if anyone was paying her any attention. Hopefully, a male who seemed to be looking for someone, and not in a stalkerish-axe-murderer kind of manner.
Her eyes once again fell on the good-looking hunk with the long, tied back black hair and lilac eyes. I mean, come on shoot her, he was good to look at and her date hadn’t seemed to have shown. Maybe he’d decided that he couldn’t make it, which was fine. It would have been nice to have known before she’d gotten out of her pyjamas and slippers though. She’d definitely been ditched, because she could not find one male around her that screamed geeky book nerd to her.
Snorting as a skinny blonde yet again pawed the black-haired guy, basically rubbing her double, damn, false breasts against his arms. Because, really, nothing real had that kind of levitation capabilities on a chest, not unless you had a bra with extra scaffolding to hold them up. She should know, because she’d often looked at those bras with envy when she was buying her own ‘B’ for basic cup bras, with pretty lace to cheer herself up over her own lack of mammaries. Plus, the girl was so slim they looked like someone had superglued over inflated balloons to her chest. Damn, her back must hurt like a son-of-a-bitch carrying those suckers around. Especially with nothing but that tiny strap digging into her shoulder, which was presently visible under her skin-tight belt. Well, it was a dress really, but come on, it was so short if she bent forward you’d be able to see what she had for lunch.
Again, turning around on her stool and ignoring the girls gone wild scene going on before her, Jill rooted in her bag, pulling her phone out and checking her e-mail. Nothing, skank bastard hadn’t even had the decency to let her know she’d been ditched, figured. Sighing, she tapped out a message to Amanda.
No show so far. 10 more minutes of watching girls gone bad and I’m out of here. I’ve got a Friends re-run and a hot chocolate with my name on, it waiting at home. Jill x
Leonard once again ground his teeth as the blonde rubbed herself against his arm. If he had to read one more time about how good he’d look on her arm at her brother’s wedding, he’d bash his own skull in. I mean, the girl didn’t seem to have a thought in her head. The brunette to her right, just wanted to know if his pecker was as big as his bank balance, if his watch and designer clothing were anything to go by. I mean, he’d give her kudos for knowing her designers, but how tacky to wonder if his dick was as big as his bank balance. His eyes were
once again drawn to the brunette sitting on the bar stool as she looked around. He kept trying to catch her eye, but damn it, she kept bypassing him. Why wasn’t she at this minute sidling up to him and offering her body up for his use? To his utter dismay, he watched her remove her jacket and blinked as he spotted the red blouse she was wearing.
Fuck, his date, he’d found his date, and man she was pretty, and not interested in him, which in itself was an aphrodisiac. And idiot that he was, he couldn’t remember her bloody name, maybe he could slip into her mind and extract it.
Looking towards her again, he realised she’d looked towards him just as Barbie groped him again. He watched her shake her head and smirk, before messing in her purse and pulling out her phone.
“Ladies, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ve ignored my date long enough for one evening. Barman, please, a round of drinks for the ladies, on me, and my apologies,” he bowed as he stepped around them.
I mean, yes, they were boring, but it was pointless pissing them off, he never knew when he’d bump into them again. And yes, he could make them forget being pissed off with him, but why bother when he could just soft soap them now and save himself future hassle. Now, if he could just remember his dates name he’d be fine. Yes, he could just pull it out of her head, or better yet, read if off the end of her text, he realised as he watched her type her name in and a kiss at the end. He wasn’t quick enough to read who she was kissing as she closed it down and put it back in her bag.
“Oh, shit, sorry,” Jill mumbled, her hand grabbing the arm of the black-haired hottie, who was now before her for some reason. She looked towards the girls gone bad gang, who were all presently looking as
if they not only wanted to kill her, but her future children and her parents too.
Wow, animosity, much.
“I’m Leonard, are you Jill?”
“I’m sorry, did you say you were Leonard?” Obviously, her hearing was off, because I mean, damn, he did not look like a book nerd.
“I am, forgive me. I was kind of swamped when you arrived and you didn’t remove your jacket,” Leonard informed her. Although, he doubted he’d convinced her, not if the look of scepticism she presently wore was anything to go by. “How about we find a table and get to know each other?” He held out an arm and had to blank his face, because she looked at him as if she didn’t trust him. Damn that was a nice feeling, to not have someone; especially a female, jump all over him as if he was either the answer to her prayers - or at least his bank account was.
“Sure, I’ll just grab another drink and be right over,” she replied. Still staring at him as if he’d grown another head.
“No need. Barman, the same again for myself and the lady, at our table,” Leonard told him as he again held his arm out.
Jill would give him kudos, old fashioned manners from a man, now they were a dying breed - much like good sitcoms. She thought sadly about missing out on her Friends re-run waiting at home.
“Sure,” she replied, pushing herself off her stool, and grabbing onto his arm like a lifeline when she nearly fell on her face.
Super cool! Jill, the dork strikes again, she thought. Smiling through her teeth at her own innate sense of shit balance and uncouthness.
Oh, look, what shiny teeth you have Mr Wolf, she thought hysterically as she was nearly blinded by his pearly whites. Shit, his canines were sharp, as in razor blade sharp. Maybe she’d fallen into her own fairy-tale, and the good witch had turned her prince charming into Mr Slimy-Arsehole, the modern-day version of ‘the beast’.
Hey, it could happen, she thought with a snort of hysteria as he helped her upright, threading her arm through the crook of his own.
Oh, god, be still my heart, Mr, pearly-toothed-arsehole-womanising-slime-ball had really-good manners.
Maybe that’s how he did it. Maybe he was a superhero and his superpower - knickers vanished at the drop of a bow or show of old world - courtly manners. Or maybe, those incisors were so sharp that when he smiled the elastic snapped on them. She snorted at that thought, and had to roll her lips inwards to stop the hysteria from bubbling up and leaving her mouth.
“Are you okay?” Leonard asked, watching her shoulders shake.
“Yes,” she squeaked, not looking at him, but he heard her clear her throat a few times.
Chapter Six
L eonard held out the seat for Jill, the only female in the room who hadn’t seemed to hit on him since he’d walked in. Weird, because now he didn’t know how to behave around her, or what to talk about. To be honest, he was a little rusty. Okay, fuck it, he was so totally out of his depth, he wasn’t even paddling. But, come on, I mean, he was a vampire, he didn’t normally need to entertain a date; or have them for that matter, just being in the room was normally enough. The whole glamour kicked in and wham, he could bang and bail without even telling them his name. Sexually transmitted diseases weren’t an issue, him being an immortal and all, plus, only mates had babies. Yep, even vampires were stuck with that clause, but at least it stopped the worry of leaving kids dotted around the country, or world, if he’d gotten really bored and had taken to travelling again. Plus, eww, he always used protection, not all his choices were good ones, some were just expedient. A way to pay for the snack he needed as he’d forgotten to pack a flask. Vampires needed blood, it was that simple and if they didn’t get it. Let’s just say that Dracula looked like child’s play against a real-life vampire when they needed blood and couldn’t get it. It had the whole screaming and running, blood, mayhem, madness thing going on. Yeah, the ripper murders were not a human. Please, as if a human could disappear that way, nope, that was a vampire. The whole cutting up was just a way for shits and giggles and probably to hide the original bite site. The eyes gave it away, I mean, they used their eyes to hypnotise, hence messing with the eyes of the victims. It was lucky that the human police were not aware of them, otherwise they’d have all been on the shit list.
“Thank you.”
“Sorry, miles away,” he replied to Jill as she took her seat. Slowly, he rose to his full height realizing he was leaning into her and sniffing her neck.
Yes, that didn’t look weird at all.
“Leonard… may I ask you something?” Jill asked as he sat down, she wouldn’t meet his enquiring gaze though.
“Sure, I’m an open book.”
“Are they contacts?” she asked, chin lifting towards his eyes.
“You want to know if I wear contacts?” he asked confused. Out of all the questions he could have been asked that was an easy one.
“No, I have perfect vision, better than twenty-twenty. Why, what made you think I wore contacts?” he asked, sitting back in his own chair as the waiter placed their drinks down before them.
“The colour. I’ve never seen eyes that particular colour before, not unless either photo shopped or they wore purple contacts.”
“Lilac eyes are a race thing,” he informed her.
“Race?”
“Yeah, all vampires have lilac eyes,” he grinned, flashing a fang. He didn’t know why he did it, but he wanted a reaction from her, she was too cool around him; too dismissive.
“So contacts, and you do role play?”
“No, both my own, and my eye colour is a family trait, my father has purple eyes also, as does his father and so on.”
“The dental work?” she asked, taking a sip of her drink as she watched him. No fear, just mild curiosity as she gazed into his eyes.
“Hi, I’m Samantha, may I get your number,” asked the tall black-haired woman who’d stopped by their table.
“I’m sorry, but I’m with someone, if you don’t mind, I’d really like to be left alone,” Leonard replied patiently, hoping she’d take the hint.
“Okay, as I said, I’m Samantha, and this is where you can get hold of me. Just call, you know, when you’re free,” she sighed, dropping a business card on the table beside his drink.
“As you were saying?” Jill asked, taking another sip of her drink, not even paying attention to the woman who’d just left their table. Maybe his glamour worked on her a little subtler than others, so that although she wasn’t pawing him, he could basically do what he liked and get away with it.
An intriguing thought.
“Yes, lilac eyes are a family thing, for the males in my family; extended too.” Most vampires were related in some way or another, so the eyes gave them away, or there’d be all kinds of weird interbreeding going on. I mean, some of them had enough shit to deal with this day and age with modern technology. They did not need to be worrying over their children being born with six fingers and other abnormalities also.
“Oh, that’s cool, so the dental work?”
“Family trait also,” he informed her.
“They grow that way?” she asked, her eyes flicking to his mouth once more and he couldn’t help himself, he had to flash her his fangs yet again.
“Yes, they are a natural occurrence in my family, no control over them,” he explained with a shrug.
“You’ve never thought about getting them… I don’t know… Capped, to hide most of the… erm… differences?” she cleared her throat. But he could have sworn she’d mentioned creepy arse vamp thing, and his lips twitched.
“I do not belong to a weird fan fiction group,” he told her with distaste. “The so called ‘modern day vampires’ sleeping in coffins, scared of sunlight and churches. I like the sun, I also wear a cross,” he showed her the silver one he wore around his neck, a gift from his mother blessed by the pope on one of her trips. She’d gotten a real kick out of it, her weird sense of humour at a vampire not only being in a church, but being blessed by the pope himself.
/> “Plus, do I look anaemic and lifeless? I assure you I have a pulse,” he held his hand out to her. “Do you want to check for my pulse?” he grinned, again flashing his incisors. Enjoying himself as she now eyed him more like an enigma, something to work out, rather than just your everyday weirdo.
“Sooo, have you ever… erm… used them… shit, I’m really sorry, but they look so damn Count Dracula.” She clamped her mouth shut and dipped her chin, her lips again rolling inwards, as if trying to hold back her laughter; or questions.
“I have,” Leonard told her, sitting back with a grin as her chin lifted and her startled eyes jumped to his. He picked his tainted wine up, taking a sip to hold back the moan at the thought of sinking them into her throat, or maybe the top of her thigh. He watched her as he drank his pink coloured wine. A hip flask came in handy sometimes, especially when used with sleight of hand. Only another immortal would have caught the moment that he’d tipped blood into his wine, as it was done much too quickly for a human to see. It was the one thing he allowed his normal reflexes free rein over. He could use his flask and have it put back in his pocket and out of sight in a fraction of a nanosecond. Much too fast for the human eye to track. All he needed was his partner to blink, and it was done and away again before they ever realised he’d moved. A neat trick, and handy in this day and age. Even a camera would struggle to pick it up, unless it was slowed down to the rate of watching a plant grow, and there wasn’t much use for that kind of camera in a pub.
“Are you offering me the use of a vein?” Leonard rumbled. He heard her heart rate pick up, her respiration increase and her pupils expanded; ever so slightly. His nostrils flared at the scent of her interest, and he licked over the tip of a fang and crossed his legs at the thought.