“Why are you following me? I didn’t steal anything,” she asked with the same glare she had given him in the store.
La Bohème continued to play through the ear buds. “I was following you because I wanted the book you bought.” He nodded to the bag she clutched to her chest.
The young woman eyed him up and down, narrowing her eyes. “What’s the name of the book?”
Oh, she’s a tough one, he thought. He concentrated on her thoughts and saw the title in her mind. “It’s a book on astrology. Astrological Forecasts for the Next Five Years for Cancer. You got the last copy.”
Her grip on the bag tightened. “Well, it’s mine. You were too late tonight.”
“What is your name?” Eamon asked.
“What’s yours?” she countered. Her suspicious facade flaked away the longer he smiled at her.
“Eamon Rutherford.”
“Amelie de la Puente.” She tilted her head to the side. “You don’t look like the type who is into astrology.”
“Oh, I believe in the paranormal and such.” Her brown eyes captivated him. “Would you like to get a cup of coffee? Maybe we could haggle over the book?” He nodded over to a restaurant with outdoor seating.
Amelie looked at the restaurant and back at Eamon. “That would be nice.”
“I wouldn’t want to keep you from anything.”
Her cheeks turned pink. “No, you won’t do that.”
* * *
Eamon held her chair as she sat down and took the chair across from her. “Are you an avid fan of astrology, Amelie?”
“No, not really. It’s just something to read. I like off-the-wall stuff.”
He glanced over the wine list. “Would you like a glass of wine?”
She shook her head. “No, but a cappuccino sounds great.”
The idea of coffee in this heat sounded completely unappealing to him. He signaled for the waiter and ordered her drink and himself a scotch. “When you say off-the-wall, what do you mean?”
Amelie tucked her hair behind her ear, which exposed the slender line of her neck. “I just meant things that are less serious. Four years of academic reading gets old. I like history, but now I’m ready to read something else. It’s a guilty pleasure kind of thing.”
“Have you recently graduated from college?” He took a drink of the scotch the waiter placed in front of him. It wasn’t good. He suspected they even watered it down.
She nodded. “BA in history from UF. The University of Florida.” she added.
“That’s wonderful. I like history, too.”
“I graduated with high honors.” She squirmed in her seat and her cheeks turned pink again. “This is boring for you, right?”
He shook his head. “Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know. Just a lot of obscure knowledge and my ticket to grad school. I guess it doesn’t really matter. I probably won’t ever have to work.”
“Why’s that?”
“My dad died two months ago.” Sadness passed across her face and then faded. “He left me well taken care of,” she said with a frown.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
Amelie sighed and her gaze wandered around the cafe. “I’m the last of my family now. My mom died when I was born.” She licked the spoon from the cappuccino and blew on the foam.
Eamon smiled as he watched her tongue lap the foam off the spoon. “It’s hard to be alone. Although they say a person adapts to it if they want to.”
Amelie glanced down at Eamon’s left hand. “Are you alone?”
Eamon folded his fingers in. “That’s a good question. My life has become quite complicated over the past month.”
“I thought you were married. I remember reading…”
“So you do know me,” He smiled and picked up the scotch but didn’t drink it.
“I know about your businesses. I read the papers. I’ve never seen a picture of you, though. You’re not what I expected.”
“You’re not the first person to say that.” He frowned into his scotch.
“No, probably not. Assumptions are wrong most of the time.” She twisted a button on her overalls. “After all, I thought you were some sort of perv in the bookstore.”
“A pervert?” His eyebrows lifted in surprise.
“I could…” She leaned across the table. “Feel you staring at me.”
“Well, I promise that I’m not a pervert. I’m many things but not that.” Eamon drained the glass and signaled to the waiter to refill it. It was dreadful but it was wet and cool and better than nothing.
“As long as you aren’t a pervert,” she said with a laugh. “Anyway, I kind of liked the way you were staring at me. It was intense, but it made me feel like I was the only one in the world that you wanted to look at.”
“You were.”
Amelie picked up her spoon and stirred her cappuccino again. He watched her retreat into what felt like self-doubt and confusion, which seemed sad and incorrect. Her lush curves and radiant, dark eyes were spellbinding. More than anything, he wanted to lean across the table, kiss her delicate mouth, and show her how beautiful he thought she was. Instead, he just placed his hand on top of hers and rubbed her fingers.
“Would you like to go for a walk? It’s only half passed nine and that’s too early to let you go.”
Amelie turned around. “I think the stores are all closed.”
“I thought we might walk by my house.”
“Where do you live?” she asked.
“Bayshore. We could walk along the water if you’d like.”
Amelie shook her head. “Not tonight. But you can walk me home.”
“I’ll drive you instead.”
Eamon pulled in the drive of Amelie’s house and realized that she didn’t live far from him. That was a plus. He waited while she chewed her bottom lip and tried to decide if she wanted to invite him in.
“Well, this is my house.” She looked at the front door and then at him. Amelie turned her key over in her hand a few times. “Do you want—” She stopped mid-sentence when his fingers skimmed down her neck. The key slipped from her hand as she caught her breath.
“Yes, I want,” he whispered as he leaned over to kiss her. “I want very much.”
* * *
Eamon rolled over in Amelie’s bed and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. It had been almost impossible not to take her blood while they made love. He thought of it as making love because of the connection he felt with Amelie. Six hours, that was all the time he had known her. Their experience differed from the times with Lauryl. With Lauryl, no emotional connection existed. It was like winning a contest where she was a prize. Even that wasn’t quite the case because he had to glamour her. With Amelie, he experienced simple pleasure and warmth. She willingly opened herself up to him.
“Would you mind if I asked you a question? Amelie asked.
“You can ask me anything you’d like,” Eamon said.
“How old are you?” She rolled over on her stomach and propped her chin on one of the pillows.
Eamon blinked and for a moment considered whether or not to answer. “Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. I’m just curious, I guess.”
“How old do you think I am?” That question bought him some time to think of his answer.
She narrowed her eyes as she studied his face. “I don’t want to guess. Just tell me.”
Eamon smiled. “I’m twice your age.” His chronological age was about that.
“That’s not very specific.” She frowned and tucked some of her hair behind her ear.
He kissed her. “Does our age difference bother you?”
“No, not at all. I’m just curious.” Amelie studied his face again.
“Curiosity is fine.”
She snuggled in against him. “You seem different than other men.”
“Really? How so?”
“I don’t know. You just are. It’s weird. Again, you’re not what I was expecting
. I thought you’d be different.”
“Different?” Eamon stroked the smooth skin of her back.
“Like super arrogant or whatever.”
He chuckled. Lauryl would say he was. “It’s been said that I am.”
“You don’t seem that way to me.” Amelie kissed his shoulder.
“Maybe around you I’m not. Maybe I feel different around you.
“I hope not,” she said.
Eamon had been following her thoughts. Her budding attraction to him was obvious. The attraction happened without him taking her blood or glamouring her. It was genuine. He felt her connection with him. At the same time, he felt something as well; something foreign to him. He actually enjoyed the company of Amelie. He didn’t have any agenda with her. And something about this young woman allowed him to relax. He didn’t have to hide who he was. Only what he was.
“You feel so good.” He turned her toward him and stroked her cheek.
“Do you want to stay?” She kissed his finger as it passed over her lips.
“Unfortunately, I can’t. I need to get home soon.” Eamon looked around her room. A sorority composite picture and other college memorabilia covered the walls. His gaze stopped on a cheval mirror in the corner covered by her bathrobe. He made a mental note of the mirror’s position.
“You can if you want.”
“I wish I could. I’d like to stay in bed with you all day but my day is already…” He thought for a moment. “Planned.”
“Okay.” She put her head on his chest.
He smoothed her dark hair. “I would like to see you tonight. I’m more available at night.”
She nodded against him. “I’d like that.”
“Good. I’ll give you my number here before I leave,” He thought for a moment, mulling over the idea of starting a relationship with Amelie. “And I’ll give you my New York number. They can always reach me.”
He tipped her chin up and her eyelids drooped.
“Am I keeping you up?”
A sated smile appeared on her lips. “Oh no. You’ve …exhausted me.” She kissed him. “Actually I’m a night person. I’d rather stay up all night and sleep all day.”
Eamon laughed softly. “Would you like to live that way?” Her confused and naïve expression made him laugh harder.
“I would if I could. You don’t know how much I hate mornings. I’m not much of a sun worshiper.” She motioned to her pale skin.
He hugged her, breathing in the smell of her hair. “I’m a night person, too. In fact, you might say that I hardly function during the day sometimes.”
“I guess we’d make good vampires.”
The irony of her statement amused him. “Yes, we would.” He brushed her hair from her neck and touched his tongue lightly to the skin, savoring its delicious, salty taste. “Would you let me take your blood?” She rolled on to her back and closed her eyes. “Would you?” he asked again as his hand travelled from her neck to her breasts. He opened his mouth and his fangs dropped down, ready to take her blood.
“I’d let you do anything you wanted,” she whispered.
He stared at her neck for a few seconds before he brushed his lips lightly over the skin and kissed her. “As tempting as that is, I need to get going. We can play vampire another night.” His fangs retracted and he glanced at a large stuffed alligator with a toothy grin sitting on a pile of history books on her dresser.
“I’d like that,” Amelie said.
“So would I.” More than you know, he thought. Eamon got out of bed and got dressed, carefully avoiding the mirror. He reached into his wallet and pulled out one of his business cards. “Now,” he said as he wrote a number down on the back. “The number on the front is the New York number. My assistant’s name is Rebecca and she’s very helpful. The number on the back is my cell phone number. We don’t live very far from one another so I’ll pick you up.” Eamon leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Tonight? Around eight?”
Amelie nodded and took the card from him. “Thanks.”
He kissed her again. “No, thank you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
He Was the Oldest Living Vampire and He Seemed Lovesick
Eamon pulled up to the house of Marta Jimenez-de Castillo, the vampire who contacted Grant a week ago, and surveyed the surroundings. The white, Spanish Colonial-style home blended well with the other large houses in the neighborhood. This was his first visit to the old money area of Tampa called Culbreath Isles. He appreciated the security and beauty of the area but the close proximity of the homes would have been the deal breaker for him.
As he walked to the door, he felt the presence of this vampire. It floated in the air and caressed him like a warm, summer breeze. The source of the marker, Marta, stood at the door. She smiled graciously at him before lowering her head in a gesture of submission.
“Mr. Rutherford, it’s a great privilege to have you in my home. Please come in.” Marta extended her hand to Eamon.
Eamon looked into Marta’s face as he let go of her hand. A sense of familiarity poured over him and he studied her with increased scrutiny. The kinship was unusual. It was strong enough for him to notice but not strong enough for him to identify with precision. He suspected that she was part of him but he didn’t know how. Perhaps she was an offspring from one of Irina’s companions. His line was small so the family tree didn’t have many branches.
“I’m happy to meet you, Marta. Please call me Eamon.”
They walked down the hall to a large living room. Eamon sat down as she continued over to a console with liquor decanters. “Would you care for something to drink? I have a cognac you might enjoy. I also have your drink of choice, Glenlivet. Or if you prefer, I have a girl that lives with me that would be happy to satisfy any craving you might have.”
In a word, Marta was beautiful. She was tall and fair with blue-gray eyes that sparkled with charm. A black rhinestone-studded clip held her blond hair up in a loose knot and a few tendrils framed her face. Although she relaxed in her seat, her demeanor was elegant. When she was human, she without a doubt had been part of a noble family. She carried herself with the grace of a queen and her regal presence came from breeding not practice.
“The scotch will be fine.” He took the drink from her and swirled the amber liquid around. “Why don’t you tell me why you contacted my attorney?” he asked.
“I felt your presence in the city and I felt I should pay my respects. I know that sounds a bit archaic,” she said.
“I’m sure you understand that I keep to myself and avoid the company of our kind.” He inhaled the aroma of the liquor. “When you’re as old as I am, you aren’t as easily entertained as younger vampires are.” Eamon’s gaze narrowed on her. He guessed her to be no more than twenty-five or twenty-six in chronological years, but he was unsure of her age as a vampire.
“I’m not that young myself. I’ve been a vampire for many years. Not as many as you, of course, but quite a few.”
“I can tell you’re from an older time,” he said.
Marta laughed. Her laughter was light, almost musical. Charming and cultivated. “A time about four hundred and ten years ago. I’ll answer the question you are too kind to ask.”
He raised his glass to her and his attitude toward her softened. Marta was what he thought a vampire should be: beautiful, powerful, and purposeful.
“Have I pleased you in some way?” She sat down on the sofa across from him and tucked her long legs under her. One of her Chanel shoes dropped to the floor and she looked at it and then at him.
“Yes, you have by simply being yourself. It’s rare that I’m around older vampires.”
She played with one of the diamond hoop earrings she wore. “There aren’t that many of us left. I was the oldest vampire in Hillsborough County, in Florida, for that matter, prior to you coming here so I’m the Elder. It’s mainly newborn vampires here. Poor creatures that have no idea about long-term survival. They only know what they read or see on th
e internet. Then there’s the group of humans who color the perception of what a vampire looks like and how they behave. They seem to be a mixed blessing. They’re crazy enough to think they’re vampires and try to live how they think a vampire should. These humans are the ones who, I think, keep the world from believing in vampires.” She smiled. “I do tend to talk a lot. I beg your indulgence.”
“I’m enjoying the conversation.”
“I try and maintain some sort of order in the area, but vampires are hard to govern with no true law. I can only claim age as my authority and to date I’ve had no problem. The population remains stable and there’s no problem that would make anyone question our existence.”
“You’ve done well, my dear. Things appear to be in order.” He drained the glass and stretched his legs out in front of him. He still couldn’t determine how she was part of his line. Irina had never mentioned her. “Tell me about yourself.”
“Me?” She shifted in her seat and kicked off her other shoe. “I was born connected to the royal house of Spain. My father was Philip the Second. My mother wasn’t his wife so my father could never recognize me in an official capacity but he took care of my mother and me. I was a Habsburg in every way but name. More important, I’m part of your vampire line. You killed a French cousin of mine and took his estate and holdings. I went to visit, unaware your lovely little Russian countess and her lover lived there. She was kind enough to give me your gift.”
“Irina.” Sadness at the mention of Irina struck him momentarily, but finding a new member of his line brought a queer sense of relief and happiness to him.
“I felt my maker’s passing and mourned her. I can only imagine your grief as her maker.”
“I wish she had told me about you,” he said quietly.
Marta waved off the omission. “I’ve done well over the years, but I’ve always wanted to meet you, my Primigenio. I owe my life as a vampire to you. A life I’ve enjoyed.” She glanced down at her well-manicured fingernails. “Tell me, who is the charming young girl you’ve been seen with?”
Life in Moonlight: The Primigenio Tales: Book 1 Page 16