“Thanks.” Shescanned the restaurant, her expression uncertain.
He skirtedaround the table and pulled out her chair. Leaning closer, hewhispered, “Ignore them. You’re beautiful.” He’d dated plenty ofwomen, pre-vamp, and in the four months since he’d turned too, butnone as captivating as her.
Harper had anatural beauty, a warmth that shone from within. She didn’t needthe layers of orange makeup and false eyelashes his usual typewore, and he could safely say he’d never met anyone with suchquirky, pastel-coloured hair. Mint green, baby blue, lilac, palepink—how many colours were in those curls?
Her scentsurrounded him, heady and warm, reminding him of honeysuckle andjasmine on a summer’s evening. His vamp hearing picked up her rapidheartbeat, like a bird fluttering its wings, confirming hissuspicions she was indeed nervous, despite her outer calm.
She sat down,unhooked the strap of her handbag from her shoulder and removed herjacket, letting it crumple at the back of the chair.
He lingeredbehind her, her soft, tousled hair brushing against his fingers asshe flicked it back, exposing her neck.
Her paleneck…
The bloodpumping through her carotid artery beckoned to something deepinside, something intrinsic. So sweet, so enticing, he could almosttaste it.
His fangsprickled, started to elongate.
Just one bite,a nip, a drop or two of her sweet nectar…
No! Nothere.
He bit down onhis molars, forced his fangs to retract.
Damonstraightened abruptly and rounded the table as fast as he couldwithout using his vamp speed, hoping it wasn’t obvious he’d removedhimself from her proximity before he took a bite right there in hisrestaurant.
What thehell? He’d never experienced anything so powerful.
She smiled herwarm smile again, seemingly oblivious to what almost happened.
The maître d’,Clement, reappeared to hand them both menus, a welcome distraction.Even he smiled back at Harper as she took the menu, and he barelyever smiled.
Maybe it was awitch thing. Not that he’d ever met a witch before, but maybe shewas putting some kind of spell on those around her, him included—aspell he seemed powerless to resist.
Is thatpossible? Could a witch render a vampire weak to her charms?There was no denying the desire to taste her blood was like thepromise of an exquisite wine, but he would never, never biteanyone without their permission.
According tohis maker, Nerissa, in order to keep their existence from thehumans, it was ruled vampires must be discreet at all times, biteonly those who were willing, and then draw no more than a few dropsof their blood, not even enough to make them dizzy, but enough tosatisfy a vampire’s bloodlust—when it came. Being a fledgling, hewas more than content with the odd blood bag or two and wouldn’texperience the bloodlust for a long time.
His maker toldhim there were a few vampires, especially the ancients, whosebloodlust had turned them into soulless monsters, and thoughtthemselves above the ruling, but with Nerissa’s guidance, he had nointention of becoming a monster.
Harper openedthe menu and studied it for several seconds. Her shoulders dipped afraction. She looked up and waited for the maître d’ to get out ofearshot. “I’m sorry, I have no idea what any of this says.”
Damon raisedhis eyebrows. Well, that was refreshingly different. Most women heknew would pretend to read the menu, order something with the worstFrench pronunciation, then proceed to pick at something they didn’twant. But not Harper. She’d come straight out and confessed.
He smiled,admiring her honesty. “Don’t worry. I can translate if you want,but I recommend the Filet de Bœuf écossais ou Roquefort—the steak.It’s to die for,” he lowered his voice and leaned forward, “but Ialready did that.”
She rolled hereyes and whispered back, “Is that the best vamp joke you have?”
“No, I haveplenty.”
“Terrific. Butthe steak? Really?” She grinned. “I wouldn’t have thought you wouldgo anywhere near a stake.”
He laughed, butonly now did he wonder why she’d agreed to date a vampire, or whythe owner of a dating agency for supernatural beings hadn’t matchedhim with one of her clients. He’d thought it odd, and a littleunprofessional at the time, but something about her, even on thephone, had intrigued him. So, was she merely here to check him out,to make sure he wasn’t dangerous before she matched him withsomeone more suitable? If that were the case, then she wasn’tinterested in him at all. The thought disappointed him more than hecared to admit.
Returning hisattention to Harper, he asked, “Would you like me to ordersomething for you?” He winked. “Something light? Asand-witch, perhaps?”
Harper rolledher stunning, pale grey eyes again. “Witch jokes, too? Magic powersthat be, give me strength.”
She looked atthe menu again, hiding what he was sure was another smile behindthe pages.
“Okay, you canorder, but no snails… or frog’s legs. Definitely not those.”
“No frog’s legsor snails, I promise.”
Clementappeared at the table again and Damon ordered the fillet steak forboth of them and chose his best pinot noir—personally picked from avineyard in France—a superb accompaniment to the dish.
When itarrived, his witchy date tucked into her food instead of picking atit, which made a pleasant change. He played the charming host, likehe always did, and had fun imparting his cheesy vampire jokes, anda few more witch ones too, jokes he’d been eager to test out sincehe turned vamp.
“That was themost delicious meal I’ve had in half a century,” Harper announcedafter their meal. She took a sip of her cappuccino.
His gazeflitted to her full lips, lingered there, mesmerised by theirgentle curve.
“I have frothon my lip, don’t I?” She brushed her fingertip along her lip, themovement slow and sensual, and yet she appeared oblivious to howsexy the action was.
Or maybe it waswishful thinking. Was she really enjoying his company, or was shestill considering his suitability for joining her datingagency?
“Except forthat cheese stuff,” she continued. “What did you call it?”
“Roquefort.”He’d noticed she hadn’t touched it, but the tangy blue cheesewasn’t to everyone’s taste, and he liked that she wasn’t afraid tospeak the truth, unlike other women, who usually
