“You didn’t answer me when I asked if you were hungry,” Tall, Dark, and Handsome commented as he led me to an unoccupied table tucked into a corner, far away from the other patrons in the room. The bartender hurried toward us with a menu in her hand, and I swear a few buttons on her tuxedo shirt had come undone since we first stepped into the room.
“And you haven’t told me your name,” I countered.
“Camden Devlan. You can call me Cam.”
“Nice to meet you, Cam.”
He smiled, a slow, small smile, as if he found something—or someone—amusing. “And you are...”
“Anya Sinclair.” I blew out a breath and turned my focus to the bartender, who dropped a menu in front of me and offered Cam a million-watt smile.
“Hello,” she said, dragging out the o and batting her lashes. “Something to drink?”
“Wine,” Cam said. “The best cab you have.”
“Of course.” She practically breathed the words. “Anything else?”
His gaze flicked to me, the amusement still there. “Why don’t you give us a moment to look over the menu?”
Disappointment dragged down her features as she nodded and headed back to the bar.
“What if I don’t like wine?” I asked as soon as she left. “What if I don’t like to drink at all?”
“Do you?”
“What?”
“Drink?”
I cast my gaze sideways, certain he could tell if I was lying, although I had no idea if that was really a vampire trait. Actually, come to think of it, I was still unclear whether he even was one.
“Sometimes. I’m more of a beer drinker, though. Are you a vampire?” The words came out in a rush. Me and my awkwardness in new or uncomfortable situations.
I hadn’t wanted my sister to go, to give herself over to the vampires. Yet if I were honest with myself, I’d admit she was perfect for the job. Despite growing up on a farm, she had managed to morph into a gorgeous, glamorous woman, whereas I was pretty typical of a farm-raised girl: flat, straight blond hair; cornflower-blue eyes; plump cheeks; an average, slightly athletic body that tended toward more curves than I preferred if I didn’t exercise regularly. Luckily, living on a farm presented itself with plenty of opportunity to get in my daily workout.
“If you do not care for the wine, I’ll order you a beer. But I’d like you to at least try it. I love wine, and I prefer to drink with a companion. And yes, I am a vampire. I take it that is an issue for you?”
“It is if you plan to try to turn me into a courtesan. Because I’m not interested.”
“Duly noted.”
His facial features didn’t change, nor did his tone sound sarcastic. Was there hidden meaning behind his easy acceptance of my declaration? I’d learned a long time ago not to trust vampires. And now they had my sister. And me, possibly. Cam wasn’t acting suspicious, and he had saved me from who knows what sort of fate out there in that alley, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have his own agenda.
The bartender returned with a bottle of blood-red wine and two bulbous wine glasses that looked as if they each could hold seven and a half liters of liquid. She showed Cam the label, and after he nodded, she poured a tiny bit of the wine into the glass she’d placed before him. I watched, mesmerized, as he swirled the wine, sniffed it, then tipped it back and drained the contents. He appeared to savor it for a few moments before swallowing.
His Adam’s apple bobbed, and I found myself swallowing compulsively. Images danced through my head, of steamy kisses, of lips trailing across my cheek to my ear to nibble for a bit before shifting to my neck, where I tilted it just enough to expose the vein there…
I slapped my hand on the linen cloth hard enough to cause my wineglass to dance. I grabbed it to keep it from falling over, while the bartender gave me a dirty look and Cam paused with his own glass held a few inches from his lips.
He arched those heavy dark brows and nodded at the bottle in the bartender’s hand. “Did you want to sample it as well?”
Shaking my head and knowing I was blushing furiously, I said, “No,” and kept my gaze glued to the table, appalled at having such thoughts—about a vampire.
I hated vampires, had since I was six years old. Fifteen years of loathing did not allow for fantasies just because the guy saved my ass a little while ago. I wasn’t a blood courtesan; I didn’t want anything to do with that lifestyle or the vampires who condoned it. My goal was to find my sister—hopefully alive—and return her to our safe, if mundane, life back home, far away from vampires and their evil ways.
After a long pause, Cam’s sexy voice murmured, “It’s excellent,” and the bartender fill each glass half full before placing the bottle on the table. “Anya, would you care for some food?”
“You sure are obsessed with eating.” I thought vampires didn’t need to eat. That’s what my blood was for. No, not my blood.
His gaze dropped for a moment—was he looking at my lap?—before flicking up to my face. “I do enjoy … eating.”
“Really? That’s the lamest double entendre I’ve heard. And I grew up on a farm, so I’ve had plenty of exposure to bad jokes about sex.”
He chuckled and dismissed the bartender, much to her disappointment. “I grew up on a farm as well.”
Yeah, right. This guy?
