by Kristin Cast
A raw, core-biting chill seeped through his jacket when they stepped inside. Dean tensed against his instinct to leave. Suppressing his misgivings, he forced himself to take in one of his city’s top tourist destinations.
“So, this is what everyone comes to see,” he murmured, feeling hope drain away as he studied the weathered building that stood hollow and cold like a shadow.
Melody gathered her tousled mane in a tight ponytail and checked the overhead signage. “It’s this way,” she said, her slight frame easily slipping past the crowd. He fought his way through, following her bouncing copper ponytail.
“Whoops. Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to step on your foot!” Dean turned and waved apologetically to the teen he’d nearly trampled. He continued forward, examining the short, narrow cells lining the cellblock. “Oof!” Dean ran smack into Melody, her bent elbow jabbing him in the stomach.
“Sorry,” she whispered, her focus never straying from the cluster of three cells, each of which had a dummy head half hidden in its tiny cot.
“That’s creepy,” he said, massaging the dull ache from their collision. When Melody remained silent he leaned into her. “Do you know what happened?”
“Oh, yes. Sorry. Again.” She simpered. “This is where Frank Lee Morris and two brothers, Clarence and John, used spoons to dig around the air vents. That’s how they got out.”
Dean peered into the cell in front of them. “Where’d they go after they got out?”
Melody motioned for him to follow her to the end of the row, where there was a glass door through which he could see a long utility hallway between the two cellblocks.
“They climbed up one of those iron drainage pipes to the roof.” She pressed her index finger against the glass. Her delicate hand made a stark contrast to the thick, rusted metal cluttering the narrow passageway. “Then they made their way to the dining hall and hospital wing, which is where they used a stovepipe to climb down to the water.” Melody’s voice faded softer and softer until he strained to hear her.
“Then what happened?”
She turned and lifted her chin toward the dingy windows lining the top of the cement wall. “No one knows for sure. The official word is they drowned.”
“Would you rather know they were out there, free?”
She shrugged.
Dean shook his head. His inner cop twitched with frustration. “Funny how people forget that they were locked up here because they were violent criminals.”
“The whole thing is just so…” She glanced back at the tiny cells. “Awful. So much more awful than I thought it’d be.” The depth of sadness in her voice surprised him.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes. No,” she whispered, her eyes awash in unshed tears. “Can we get out of here?”
“Of course.” This time he took the lead, wrapping Melody’s arm protectively through his and guiding her out of the building. Bathed in sunlight once again, she gulped in big breaths of sea air, rubbing her arms while staring out at the bay.
“Hey, what I said back there, it’s not that big of a deal. I get wanting to forget the bad and think everything turned out okay.”
She shook her head. “It’s not that. Didn’t you feel it?”
“It?”
“The sadness. The hatred. The horror of it all. I—I didn’t realize it would linger. No one told me. None of them—not one of my cousins. They didn’t say anything to me.” She sighed. “But I don’t know what I expected. It was a prison, and prisons are traps, with cages and rules and anger and loneliness,” she said, perilously close to tears. “I don’t like this place. At all.”
Dean wrapped his arms around her, drawing her carefully to him. “Yeah, I felt it.” She shuddered and his embrace tightened. “Would you like to leave?”
“Yes.” She nodded against his chest. “I’m sorry this is such a bad date.”
“Are you kidding? I’ve got you in my arms already, which means I’m having a great time!”
She leaned back and met his gaze. “Really?”
“Really. And I have the perfect way to make all of that”—he jerked his chin at the hulking building behind them—“all better.”
“How?”
“Pasta.”
She smiled tentatively. “You mean food.”
“I mean a very particular type of food. Italian. Pasta. With lots of bread and olive oil, garlic, and wine.”
Melody tilted her head back and Dean became lost in her eyes. So lost that he almost bent and covered those seductive lips with his own. He yearned to taste her—to touch more and more of her—and, surprisingly, to be sure she never looked as afraid and sad as she had just moments ago.
“Pasta is perfect.” She beamed.
Using every bit of his self-control, he stepped back, letting his arms slide from around her. “Then let’s go eat pasta and drink too much wine,” he said, lifting her palm to his lips.
Chapter Seven
Melody was sure her eyes would pop out of her head before she finished reading Pompeii’s Grotto’s expansive menu. She flipped through the pages and glanced up at Dean. The corners of his eyes creased with a warm grin. On the boat, she’d felt the need to protect him. It was so fierce she would’ve carried him overboard and swum to shore before leaving him there alone. She knew what the Sirens would do if given the chance. Dean would be their next victim. Their next meal. Her stomach churned.
Don’t let them have him.
“Anything sound good?”
Startled, she shook her head quickly. “I haven’t looked yet. Sorry.” She flipped back to the first page of entrees. “Seafood,” she whispered. Yearning for a plate of salty kelp, or a bowl brimming with seaweed, her stomach growled in response as she perused the options. Pan-seared scallops. Her eyes again flicked up to Dean, who was calmly studying the back of the menu. She shrugged, and continued reading. Grilled jumbo lobster tail. She wrinkled her nose in disgust.
Melody had been taught that humans ate a wide variety of foods, but that lesson was one of the boring ones she hadn’t paid much attention to. But seafood. Surely people didn’t think sea creatures swam around waiting to be eaten. Maybe this was some sort of test. Melody craned her neck to see if she could spot Harmony or another one of her sisters lurking in the restaurant.
“Something wrong?” Dean’s brow crinkled.
“You’re not going to eat any seafood, are you?” she blurted.
“Wasn’t planning on it. I’m more of a pasta pomodoro guy, and this restaurant makes a great sauce. They call it the Angelina.”
Melody exhaled and relaxed against the curved back of the chair. “Good. I’ve never met a crab who’d agree to be made into a salad, or a clam who chose to be chowder, and I don’t understand how they convinced a squid to want to be fried, but here they all are.” She released a puff of air and set the closed menu on the red-and-white checkered tablecloth.
“You’re a vegetarian. I didn’t mean to offend you by bringing you to a place that serves seafood.”
“No, it’s fine. I’m not a vegetarian. At least, I’m supposed to eat meat, but I don’t. There’s just so much…blood.” Even the word left a sour taste in her mouth.
Dean’s head tilted as he listened intently. Melody’s eyes traveled along his jawline to his thick chest, and back up again. Blood coursed through the steadily pulsing vein on the side of his neck. She should want to bite into it. Should crave the moment when she could relax and let her True Form take over completely. Each movement with this man should be calculated, fueled by the desire to climax before tearing into his flesh so the hot, dense, scarlet liquid gushed from between mouthfuls of muscle and skin. Evidence cleanup. Or so Harmony called it. But it was so much more. An ancient need to protect themselves by devouring their prey.
She shivered, repulsed.
“Good evening, and thank you for coming in to Pompeii’s Grotto.”
Relieved for the distraction from her own thoughts, Melody turned her attention to
the petite, scratchy-voiced waitress. “Can I start you two off with anything to drink? Any appetizers?”
“I’ll let the lady pick our poison this evening.” Dean slid the wine list across the table.
“Red,” Melody noted.
“So, you’d each like a glass of our house red?” Her bushy eyebrow curved into an arch. “It’s a fabulous Chianti.”
“Yes. And I will eat the Angelina,” Melody said quickly, trying to mask her embarrassment.
“I’ll have the same.”
“And some of the brussels sprouts,” she added.
“You’re going to love the Angelina, and not enough people order the brussels sprouts. They are delicious.” She collected the menus, and offered a weathered smile before rushing toward the kitchen.
“Brussels sprouts?” Dean cringed, the tiny crease between his eyebrows deepening.
“She said they’re delicious. Plus, they’re cruciferous.” She echoed one of the only facts she remembered about her lesson on food. “That’s a funny word when you say it out loud. Cruciferous,” she enunciated, her laughter twinkling around them.
Dean held her gaze for an uncomfortably long time. His eyes were warm and inviting, two calm pools in the midst of the sea of chaos that was San Francisco. But she didn’t like them settled on her, not right now, anyway. Nervously, she grabbed the burgundy napkin off the table and busied herself with unwrapping her silverware.
“I watched The Little Mermaid last night. The condo doesn’t have very many movie choices,” she babbled. “But I didn’t understand why Ariel put that fork in her hair. No one does their hair at the dinner table.”
Dean chuckled. “Fish can’t talk, either, so I think that movie missed the mark on a few levels.”
Finally lifting her eyes to meet his, she cocked her head to the side. “Fish can talk,” she said, whimsy absent from her voice.
The waitress returned, and, with practiced grace, noiselessly placed each glass of wine on its respective cocktail napkin.
“Sure, but not to people,” he said after a quick drink.
“Only because people don’t know how to listen. Sometimes I wonder how humans have survived for so long, deaf to the world around them.” She followed Dean’s lead and took a sip of the house red. Bitter liquid spread out over her tongue, and her throat tightened against the thought of swallowing. Covering her mouth with the napkin, she spit out the wine, thankful the fabric matched its hue.
“You’re different, you know that?”
Her cheeks blazed.
“That’s not a bad thing. I was different for a long time.” He reached across the table and rested his hand on hers. It was warm and heavy and made her skin tingle. “If I tell you something, you promise you won’t make fun of me?”
“No.” She stifled an excited chortle.
“Fair enough.”
Dean released her hand too soon as he made room for two heaping plates of pasta.
“Enjoy,” the waitress croaked.
Melody stuck her fork in the middle of the steaming pile and twirled. As the noodles hit her tongue, she closed her eyes and let the newly tasted herbs rest against her palate. “Mmmmm.”
“Yep, they know what they’re doing back there.” Dean nodded toward the swinging kitchen door.
Melody beamed around the satisfying mouthful.
“Okay, you’ve convinced me. I’m going to let you in on something not too many people know.” He let his fork hover above the plate as he spoke. A bright red chunk of tomato slid down the steel and plopped onto the pool of sauce below, splattering damp droplets on his dark shirt. “Hopefully you won’t laugh me out of the restaurant.”
“Is this a secret?” she asked, leaning over her plate.
“Sure is.” He sighed and set down the fork. “All through high school I was the fat kid.” He grimaced.
“That doesn’t make you sound like you were too different.”
“Well, that’s not the most embarrassing part.” He cleared his throat. “I was a virgin until I was twenty-one. I didn’t even have my first kiss until I was about to leave for college.”
“Oh,” Melody whispered. She’d never been kissed or kissed anyone, and sex for her species always ended in death, so she definitely hadn’t done that yet. Until now, she hadn’t thought waiting was something to be ashamed of. Her stomach knotted.
“I played football and had friends and everything, but was always looked at as more of a brother to all of the girls. Which sucked if I wanted a date for the movies or a dance, or anywhere at all, really.” He fidgeted with his napkin. “So I understand different.”
“Well, I think it’s great.” Melody pushed down her insecurities. “My pace has also been a lot…slower. That shouldn’t be a secret. It’s nice.”
“You’re right. I guess it shouldn’t be.”
Melody let go of the whirlwind of thoughts surrounding her inexperience, and relaxed into the moment.
Patrons came and went, but she and Dean stayed, sharing stories and laughing together for what felt like hours.
“Should we order another one?” He set his fork on the crumb-speckled plate and wiggled his eyebrows encouragingly.
Melody’s lip curled at the mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “I want to say yes, but we’ve already eaten two pieces of cheesecake. We can get another slice next time.”
“So you’re saying I get to take you out again?”
Her back pocket vibrated for what had to be the hundredth time. “Sorry.” She huffed and pulled out her phone. “I have to make sure this isn’t an emergency.” She opened the ten new texts from Harmony, and scanned them quickly.
Are you still out with him?
You’re not answering. That has to mean yes!
How is he?
Ask about his family history.
And remember to RELAX! Your first kill is always the worst. So many nerves!
Melody’s stomach dropped. “I need to get home.”
“Everything okay?” Concern wrinkled Dean’s brow.
“Yeah, it’s just late,” she lied. “I have to wake up early for work.”
“Right. I forget most people’s nights aren’t their days.” His shoulders slumped with the realization. “Should I call you a cab?”
“I can walk.” She pushed herself away from the table and stood, collecting her jacket from the back of the chair. “I’m only a couple blocks away, at the Fairmont in Ghirardelli Square.”
“Whoa, you must be very successful at Siren Tours to have a residence over there.” Dean rounded the table and assisted her while she slipped her arms into the coat’s sleeves.
Melody couldn’t tell if she was warm because of the added layer, or because of how close Dean’s body was to hers. “Harmony worked out a deal with the manager. It’s practically free.”
Dean pushed in her chair and offered her his arm. “Those are some negotiating skills I wish I had.”
“I guess you could say it runs in the family.” Melody forced a chuckle, and looped her arm through his.
The sun had been gone for hours, leaving the breeze to cool in its absence. It whipped around them as they strolled down Jefferson Street headed toward the glorious point where water touched land.
Dean stiffened as she pulled him closer to shore.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, slipping off her shoes.
He shrugged. “It’s cold.”
“I’d rather be cold in the water than out.” Already having spent too much of the day on dry earth, she charged into the frothy waves, welcoming them as they lapped against her shins. The temptation to give in and allow her ivory skin to morph into its True Form was almost overwhelming. She dug her toes into the sand and clenched her jaw tight as she stared out at the vast black.
“What song is the ocean playing tonight?”
She hadn’t heard him splash up next to her, but she welcomed the gentle tide of relaxation he provided. Sinking into the sand, she closed her eyes and let her body feel the mu
sic of the abyss. “It’s darker, deeper now, the tone of the waves. It’s because of the predators. They’re hunting and they carry a bass that will shake your bones if you get too close.” She opened her eyes, a quiet smile lifting her lips.
Dean stared at her with gentle curiosity. “I like you. A lot. You’re so…free.” He paused. “I think this is the best date I’ve ever been on.”
Melody shook her head. “It can’t be. We basically fled Alcatraz and dinner, and the bottoms of your pants are soaked.”
“Yours are too.” He stepped closer to her.
She lifted her foot out of the water and studied her jeans in the glow of the streetlamp. Deep blue reached up from the cuffs, licking just below the knee. Under her foot, the sand shifted as he inched closer.
“But I’ve been on a lot of first dates.” His nose wrinkled. “That sounds wrong. I’m not a serial dater. I’ve been on a normal number of first dates, and this one tops all of those. The rest of them don’t even come close, really.”
She looked up at him. “You’re not joking? Or lying. There are so many lies in this world.”
“I won’t lie to you.” His fingers floated across her forehead, brushing loose strands of copper from in front of her eyes. “That’s something my Nana taught me never to do. You’ll have to meet her someday.”
“Meet Nana?” Excitement raised her onto the balls of her feet. “You would want to take me to meet your Nana?”
“I didn’t say that too soon, did I?”
“I just never thought any man would say anything like that to me.” The words left her lips as soft whispers.
“Any man should be honored to have you meet his family. I know I will be—or at least I hope I’ll get the chance to be. Say you’ll see me again, Melody.” His voice deepened and he stepped even closer.
And there were those steel-blue eyes again. On her. Consuming her. Melting away each ugly truth she’d been taught about men. Dean was smart and sweet. He was also brave and strong. He had to be. He was a police officer. From what she remembered from her lessons, police officers were viewed as heroes in the Mortal Realm. Maybe being a human hero made him different from other men.