Must Love Fangs

Chapter Eight

No more callouts,” Bath told me the next day as I came in to work. “We’re putting a temporary hiatus on the inactive-client roundup.”

“Why’s that?” I asked, glancing at the stack of folders on my desk. I’d barely made it through a third of them. “Is something wrong?”

“Everyone’s all riled up over the situation with the tiger clan,” she said, crossing her arms under her breasts and leaning on the side of my desk. “Beau has another meeting with the heads of the clans tonight to try and smooth things over. They’re trying to shut our agency down.”

“Shut us . . . down? Why would they do that?”

She chewed on her lip for a moment before answering. “I don’t know if shutting us down is the right word, as much as . . . installing new management.”

“Because we’re human?” I guessed.

“Bingo,” she said with a sigh. “Many feel that it’s better if a supernatural service actually has supernatural staff.”

“What about Sara?” I pointed out.

“They consider her to be ‘not enough’ supernatural presence. Sure, she’s a shifter, but she was human, and she’s a werewolf, and that’s two strikes against her.” Bath sounded tired. “Beau’s refusing to shut us down, but right now it’s best if we lay low.”

“I see,” I said, trying not to panic. If we were shut down, I wouldn’t have access to the Alliance database to find my vampire. “So we’d be unemployed just because we’re human? That’s totally unfair.”

“And it doesn’t help that people are starting crazy rumors, too.”

Uh-oh. “Crazy rumors?”

“That we’re setting them up with humans and trying to pass them off as shifters. Two months ago, everyone wanted a human. Now everyone just wants to keep things separate. Long story short, no more callouts for now. If they want our services, we’ll let them come to us.”

“Gotcha,” I said, feeling sick. I had a sneaking suspicion that someone had leaked that they’d either seen me on a date, or one of my dates had let it slip that I was human. Damn it. I needed to talk to Josh. This was going to put a massive kink in my plans.

I texted him. Where are you tonight?

Busy for the next few nights, beautiful, he sent back immediately. You won’t forget me, will you?

So I won’t see you for a few days? I have a date tonight. I thought you were going to be my wingman. And by wingman, I mean hover unseen like an over-protective older brother.

The next text came back right away. Jesus, Marie. Way to kill a guy’s boner. Don’t ever call me your brother again.

And then, So who’s the date with?

Some vampire named Andre. He was on your “maybe” list, remember?

His next text came almost ten minutes later, and I spent the entire time tapping my fingers impatiently. I don’t know.

Why? What’s wrong with him?

Sorry. Busy. Gimme a few. Busting a few heads right now.

He came back a few minutes later with Nothing’s exactly wrong with him, other than he’s a vampire. I’ve worked for him before. He’s quiet. Doesn’t say much. Very polite.

This didn’t sound like a problem to me. So what’s the issue?

The issue is that I’m working for the next several nights and I can’t be there to protect you.

You don’t have to be there.

In fact, it might be best if he wasn’t. His getting possessive wasn’t going to help me, yet I enjoyed it far too much.

And that was a problem.

His next text came a few minutes later. Just . . . go someplace really public and be careful. And text me when you’re done to let me know how it goes.

I promise, I sent back. Who knows, maybe this one won’t be a dud.

I hope he is. You’ll have no choice but to fall into my arms.

That made me smile.

• • •

I decided to follow Josh’s advice about the venue. Someplace public. Someplace noisy and crowded. And someplace close enough to the office that I could sprint back at a moment’s notice. In other words, Greek food at Konstantine’s.

I was more conservative in my clothing, too. I wore a bra with the tight pink boatneck sweater, and an equally black tight skirt that gave me an overtly feminine flair without saying, Please suck on my neck right now. I’d borrowed the clothes from Ryder, and I wore high heels. After all, I wanted to seem interested.

I fidgeted at the table, waiting for my date to arrive. Was I going to get stood up again? I checked my watch. He was ten minutes late—not a good sign. To my horror, I started to have another vision-blurring spell. They were hallucinations, I knew. Last time I’d gone to sleep, I’d spent half the time staring at walls that had seeped blood. Willing my brain to stop sending me the horrible visions, I’d known that it was just another stage in my slow decline, but that hadn’t made things any easier. The hallucinations would keep coming, and eventually I wouldn’t be able to tell reality from fiction.

Worst of all, there was no one I could talk to about it. My burdens were mine alone, and sometimes it felt crushing. But I’d made the choice to handle this on my own—a choice I just regretted in weak moments.

Maybe I could tell Josh. Sure, he was reckless and flirty and needed his ego reined in, but . . . I liked him. I felt safe with him. Maybe because we’d been spending so much time together. I pulled out my phone and started a text to him, then stopped.

If I told him, he’d stop flirting with me. Sick wasn’t sexy. A dying girl wouldn’t pique his interest. If I told him the truth, our flirty friendship would disappear.

I put my phone away.

“Minnie?”

I looked up at the sound of the male voice and stared. The man in front of me was gorgeous. Tall and athletically slim, he had short, straight blond hair that was slicked back from a widow’s peak, pale skin, and bright blue eyes. He was smiling at me, and I noticed that his canines were only slightly longer than they should have been.

“I’m Andre.”

“Oh, wow,” I said, unable to hide my smile. I stood up and extended my hand. “Hi. I’m Minnie.”

“Wow?” he asked with a grin.

I was charmed by that toothy smile. Everything was out in the open with him—he didn’t hide his fangs under a close-lipped smirk like the last guy. It made me feel like I could trust him. “You just look . . . better than I expected,” I said honestly.

“The vampire thing?” he asked delicately, though the grin remained on his face.

Oh, I must have offended him. “No,” I said quickly. “The dating service thing. I seem to strike out a lot.”

“I can’t imagine why,” he said, moving behind my chair to push it in for me. “You look just fine to me.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, and sat down. He moved back to the other side of the table and sat down across from me. As one of the waiters zoomed past, Andre raised a hand to call him over. Cuff links glinted, and I studied his clothing. He was wearing a dark gray suit jacket over a lighter dress shirt. Nice togs.

For some reason I thought of Josh’s endless T-shirts and jeans, then I shook the thought away. Thinking about him on my date wasn’t going to help me with anything.