“Yes, and I will explain everything.” The fact that she wouldn’t believe him — yet — was not necessary to point out. “Where would you like me to begin?”
“How did you get in my apartment?”
He closed the gap between them in a handful of strides, and she rocked back on her heels as he moved close enough to breathe in her scent. “You should try your wine. See if it is something you enjoy.”
“I— No.” She refused to take the glass, her pale blue eyes searching his face for a moment before the anger flashed in her expression again. “Stop screwing around and answer me!”
“Taste the wine, and I will.” So many little compromises, tiny steps, and she had taken each of them. This would only take a nudge. “Grace?” he prompted, and she acquiesced.
Taking the glass, she took a single sip of the wine, and then pulled it back fast enough that the red liquid almost sloshed over the rim. “There. Happy?”
Quite.
“I was able to enter your apartment so easily because you were in it. I can be anywhere you are, although I will admit that most locks cannot keep me out.”
“But my deadbolt doesn’t even have a lock to pick, and I looked at the door and—”
“I did not use your door, Grace.”
Her expression contorted through so many emotions — confusion, anger, surprise, and finally fear. Just the slightest hint of panic that made her eyes widen, her pupils dilating just a little. It was intoxicating.
“But how?” she whispered.
“As I said before, I can do almost anything, and… I wanted to find you, plehara.”
“My name is Grace, stop calling me plu— whatever the fuck you keep calling me.” She shook her head, leaning back from him. “And if you’re going to lie to me, I don’t see the point of even having this conversation. You can just take me home.”
“I am not lying to you, Grace. Part of the deal, actually. I could not lie to you even if I felt like putting in the effort.” He took a generous drink from his wine glass, enjoying the way the flavors bloomed on his tongue, but it was a pale thing when compared to Grace. “Come and sit. I’ve kept our dinner warm in the oven.”
Surprise took over her face as he moved past her to the dining room. It was a decadent room with space enough for twelve, but he’d only set two places at the closest end. Setting his glass down, he shifted to pull out her chair while she hovered in the doorway.
“Grace? Please, take your seat, and I’ll serve dinner.” It was laughable that she still hesitated, because they were inevitable. Unavoidable.
Things would be so much simpler if he simply took away the fear in her mind, but a challenge was delightful in its own way… and the fear did make her smell incredible.
“Pretty please?” he added with a grin.
Chapter 7
Grace
The psycho was just standing there, like some ridiculously handsome gentleman, holding out her chair… nefariously. Ha. Her own mind laughed at that, because he hadn’t done a single thing inappropriate since he’d shown up at her apartment. She’d expected him to be all over her the second the door shut, and instead, he was being polite. Super polite. Old world fancy polite. That pretty please was just the cherry on top, and she couldn’t ignore the urge to get closer to him.
So, she did.
She walked over and sat down in the chair, which he pushed in with just as much careless ease. Leaning down, he spoke close to her ear in an accent that managed to coat her in goosebumps. “Thank you for your trust, Grace. I’ll only be a moment.”
Watching him walk out of the room was an exercise in temptation. When he moved, the fabric of his suit stretched and slid across his muscular back, and she’d already caught sight of the impressive length bulging out of the front of his pants.
“I’m completely insane for being here,” she mumbled under her breath.
Dropping her purse in the next chair, she toyed with the silverware that looked like it might have actual gold inlay, trying to process all the words he’d said. Apparently not a hallucination but something different. Possibly worse. Probably worse…
His condo was deathly silent, and she felt awkward sitting at the massive table by herself. It was only out of a need to do something that Grace lifted the wine and took another sip. It was delicious, which should have made her happy, but instead, it just rubbed her wrong that he’d known exactly what kind of wine she preferred because he’d dug through her apartment. What was more frustrating was that it was a decent glass of wine, probably better than the bargain bottle she had on her counter at home — which the asshole had seen when he was perusing her apartment that morning.
Stalker wizard. Hot, so fucking hot, stalker wizard. Yep, that’s what he was.
“I do hope you’re hungry,” Nic said as he walked back into the room carrying a serving tray. Laying it on the other side of the table, he lifted the lid off of one plate with a flourish and slid a still-steaming plate in front of her. Steak, fresh vegetables, and some kind of risotto. “What do you think?”
“It’s… nice?” she tried, but she’d never been a food critic. If food was tasty, she liked it. End of story. No amount of time watching Food Network was suddenly going to turn her into a wordsmith.
“Well, I’ve heard it’s very good. Carlisle’s was quite accommodating to my request for a delivery.” The words left his lips like they weren’t a big deal, but she almost choked on her next sip of wine.
“This is from Carlisle’s?” she spat, staring at the food now with wide-eyes. “That place is like… insanely expensive. Celebrities eat there! Wait, are you a celebrity?” She narrowed her eyes at him, trying to remember if she’d seen his face on anything, but he just chuckled and shook his head as he placed the bottle of wine and additional sides in the center of the table.
“No, Grace, I’m not. I’m just me.”
“Just you,” she repeated, sighing. “And now that we have food in front of us, will you finally explain that?”
“All right.” Nic nodded as he took his seat, pulling in his chair before he fluffed out his napkin and laid it across his lap. “Would you prefer if I were blunt in my honesty?”
“Yeah, that would be nice.” Another sip of her wine turned into a full drink as she stared at his dark eyes. They were evaluating her, judging, but the slight tilt to his lips made it slightly less intense — a tiny, tiny, bit less.
Instead of answering immediately, he refilled his glass with the wine, took a long drink, and then set it back on the table to steeple his fingers under his chin.
“Very well then. You cannot escape me, Grace. You cannot avoid me, we are inevitable. There is no place on earth you can hide, because wherever you are, I am welcome.”
“That’s—”
“That is the truth, Grace. You will come to accept it, and while it would be vastly more arduous, but potentially more entertaining, to take our time with it, I’d prefer if we could move on from this charade. The sooner you accept it, the easier it will be.”
Acid was eating at the back of her throat, threatening to return the meager amount of wine she’d drank, because while his words were ridiculous there was absolutely no hint of humor in his expression. Swallowing, she cleared her throat so she could speak. “Accept what?”
“That you will be mine.”
“WHAT?”
“You asked for the truth, and I am offering it. You will give yourself to me, plehara. Then we will have eternity together to enjoy it.”
“I don’t even know you!” she shouted, stunned and confused and irritatingly hungry as the delicious scent of the steak wafted upward. Still, she didn’t have time to care about food, expensive or not, right now. Nope, her number one concern was the psycho in front of her that had somehow become obsessed with her. “This is impossible. People can’t just appear wherever they want, and I don’t know why you think we’re supposed to be together, but I don’t even know you and the answer is no. Actually, the answer is fuck no.
So, if you’re done, then I think I’m going to leave.”
Just as she was about to stand, he raised his hands and leaned back. “I’m not doing anything but talking right now, Grace. I would appreciate if you’d stay and eat, enjoy the meal, and let me answer your questions.”
“Okay, then, how about this, Mr. Not-a-hallucination, what the hell is wrong with you? I mean, you send me the magical equivalent of a dick pic by showing up at my office naked, and then you make me look like a crazy person — make me feel like a crazy person — by apparently being invisible to everyone else!” She grabbed her wine and took a hearty drink, because having this conversation was making her feel more insane by the second. “And that’s after you supposedly magicked yourself into my apartment while I was naked and before you appeared at the coffee shop, also invisible, and then did… stuff. With me. In the bathroom. Which I’m still not sure I wanted!”
He was doing a bad job of hiding his chuckle while he toyed with his wine glass and took another sip. Then he just stared at her for a moment, his stupid, handsome face looking all amused before he finally arched an eyebrow. “Please continue. I don’t want to interrupt you… you look lovely when you’re angry.”
“Stop flirting with me,” she growled, drowning her frustrations with the last of her wine.
“That I can’t do. You’re simply too tempting, but…” He shrugged as he lifted the wine bottle and poured a hearty amount into her glass. “For the record, I’m not a hallucination, and I’ve never been invisible. More like, I just make others unable to perceive me. Their minds just sort of… skip over me. I’m still quite physically present, as you may have noticed.”
The low rumble to his tone did funny things between her thighs, but she rallied her righteous indignation to help her ignore it. “First, that sounds crazy, and second, you’re still flirting.”
“True. I find you delightful, Grace, and I don’t plan on lying to you.”
“That’s nice to know,” she muttered, reaching for her wine again, but he caught her hand gently.
“Please, eat. As entertaining as I’m sure you would be while drunk, I’d prefer if you’d eat so that you have your wits.” His thumb traced across the back of her hand, sending a rush of tingles up her arm. “I’ve found I quite enjoy your sharp tongue, no need to dull it with too much wine.”
“You sound like a Shakespeare play, or some old movie,” she grumbled, yanking her hand back to grab for her napkin and drape it in her lap.
“Well, I am old,” he said through a chuckle, picking up his own silverware to slice into the steak just as she did. Even though she wanted to make a smartass comment, the smell of the food had her stomach growling, so she popped a bite of steak in her mouth.
Hello, Heaven.
“Jesus Christ, that’s incredible,” she said on a moan with a mouthful of delicious steak, already diving in for more. “This is amazing. It doesn’t make up for you being a stalker-wizard, but it does help. A little.”
“It is very good,” he agreed, smiling as he ate at a more leisurely pace. One bite to her every four or five, always dabbing at his mouth with his napkin before taking a small sip of wine. It wasn’t like she was eating like an animal… she was just hungry — seriously, so hungry all of a sudden, but she was chewing her food at a normal rate. He was just slow. Agonizingly slow.
“Why aren’t you eating?” she asked before trying the vegetables and finding them to be the kind of butter-laden yummy that meant she’d happily devour her assigned allotment of veggies for the day.
“I am, I’m just saving room for dessert.” His grin was lascivious, downright dirty, and she had the distinct feeling that she was dessert. A flashback to the bathroom had her squeezing her thighs together again, and she snagged a bite of risotto to suppress the soft moan the memory brought up. Coming so hard against the wall, a dirty, naughty tryst… that had apparently actually happened. Not a sexy hallucination from a broken brain, but him.
“Nicomachus,” she said, and he smiled at her.
“Well done, Grace. I do love the way my name sounds on your delightful tongue.” He was holding his wine glass, leaned back in the chair like it was a throne, which it may as well have been. Slightly larger than the chair she was in, positioned at the head of the table, and he was so tall and broad that he seemed to loom even while relaxing.
Dangerous, bad stalker-wizard. You don’t want him.
Her brain was right, but it didn’t make him any less attractive. Nicomachus, Nic, oozed sexuality, and her mind kept drifting to much more pornographic thoughts as she let the incredible flavors of the meal dance over her tongue. She swallowed, easing her throat with a little more wine before she asked the question she absolutely had to as the memory of the bathroom played on repeat in her head.
“Did you… did you bite me at the coffee shop?”
“Yes,” he answered too easily, too fast, with that damn smirk tilting the corner of his mouth.
“Really?” She ran her fingers over the place on her throat, and his dark eyes followed her fingertips, his tongue teasing over his bottom lip. “Where’s the mark?”
“I healed it, Grace. I would never leave you injured. I want you healthy, whole, happy.” Fuck him for sounding so damn honest while saying such crazy things. “You should eat more.”
“I don’t—” She was about to say she’d lost her appetite when he reached over and plucked her hand from her throat, his fingers brushing over her skin again where a fresh wave of tingles erupted. Her head swam, suddenly dizzy, and she found herself leaning closer to him. There were a thousand reasons she shouldn’t be here, a million reasons to avoid him, but none of them seemed important as he threaded their fingers together and squeezed.
“I need you to eat, plehara.” The words buzzed, hummed, and she nodded. Turning to stab the fork at a few of the veggies and pop them into her mouth before she returned her eyes to his. “Go on.”
Nic released her hand, and she picked up her knife to eat more of the steak, focusing on the food instead of him, his words, the fact that she’d let a strange man with magical powers take her out of her apartment. All of that made her head hurt… but eating felt good. Plus, the food was spectacular. She had no idea how much a meal cost at Carlisle’s, but a few hundred for sure. And to have it delivered? That had to be more. A lot more.
Nicomachus the stalker-wizard had money. That was clear from the condo alone. And the car. The food. His clothes. So, why on earth did he want her?
“Why me?” she managed to ask before another bite of risotto made its way past her lips.
“Because you are mine, plehara. Destined.” He smiled, but she felt her brow furrow as she chewed on steak.
“Plehara,” she repeated and swallowed. “What does that mean?”
“Still so curious.” Nic chuckled and took a sip of wine. “Plehara is an old word, before my time, and — believe me — that makes it a very old word. But whatever language birthed it doesn’t exactly have a dictionary lying around. Just think of it as the word for your other half, your perfect match, your mate.”
“Mate?” Grace almost choked on a bite of veggies, reaching for her wine to help force the word down.
“Yes,” he answered with an unapologetic smile. “You feel it too. I know you do. That ineffable draw toward one another, a hunger that goes deeper than anything food could satisfy. Even food as delightful as this.”
It would have been easy to deny it, to say he was wrong, that this whole thing was bullshit — but she felt it. That was the troubling part. She felt the pull to him, she had since the first moment she’d seen him in her bedroom. It wasn’t just because he was attractive, it was something more, something… magical?
Get a grip, Grace.
“I don’t understand,” she answered honestly, and he nodded thoughtfully.
“I know, and I wish there was an easy way to explain it, but… I think this is something best experienced.” He smiled at her, glancing at her almost empty plate.
“Are you finished?”
“Um, wait,” she said, feeling a frisson of panic under the satisfied feeling in her stomach and the hazy brain fog he seemed to always create just by existing near her. “I still have questions.”
“Of course, go ahead.”
“What about… um,” she trailed off, searching for the questions in the fuzzy confusion of her mind. “How did you keep finding me? How did you just… appear? Disappear?”
“We have a blood tie. Your blood runs in my veins so I can find you anywhere.” His eyes were definitely on her neck as he said that, and she raised her hand to the place where she remembered him biting down. Hiding it. Shielding herself. “And for the appearing and disappearing, it’s just something that one as old as I am can do. I’m not quite sure how I do it myself, other than… willing it so.”
“My blood is…”
“In my veins, yes,” he answered, his grin turning slightly feral.
“You… when you bit me, you…” The words wouldn’t come out, but Nic seemed happy to help.
“Drank from you, yes.”
Vampire. What the actual fuck? Not a stalker-wizard, a stalker-vampire. A vampire?!
A hysterical little giggle bubbled past her lips, and she shoved her chair back, almost failing to move it as she’d underestimated the weight of the chair, but she managed it. As soon as she was upright, she clambered to the far side of it, keeping the hefty wooden chair between them.
“You’re a vampire,” she said aloud, because she had to say it out loud. She needed him to deny it, needed to hear him—
“Yes,” he answered, grinning as he stood without straining at all with the heavy as fuck chair. “I’m so glad that’s out of the way.”
“Not possible,” she argued, but her head was agreeing even as it was blaring warning bells, all fight-or-flight responses on maximum flight-mode. He stepped forward, and she sprinted, forced to go deeper into the dining room where there was no fucking exit. Grabbing onto the chair at the end of the table, another behemoth one that matched the one he’d sat in, she watched as he walked slowly toward her.
Bite Me: A Vampire Anthology Page 46