Sex and the Single Vampire

'I mean, that's not right, is it? Them fighting like this? Isn't it against the rules?'

'I don't know,' Joy said, her eyes worried. 'I thought it would have been impossible, but… maybe we're mistaken.'

Christian glanced at Joy, snarled something I was sure was rude in what sounded like German, then stalked off. The police rolled in at that moment, pushing the chaos of the store up several levels. I had to describe what happened to three different policemen, skating carefully around the question of how I knew the woman had a gun and was intending to kill Christian when I was seated more than thirty feet away with my back to the signing table.

I couldn't keep from looking for Christian, no matter how hard I tried to ignore him. Most of the time I found he was watching me, but once I saw him arguing quietly but vehemently with Joy. She gestured in my direction and said something to him that he didn't like. He shook his head repeatedly, making gestures of denial with his hands. Finally he snapped something at her and turned on his heel, storming away from her. From the look of surprise on her face, I guessed he wasn't normally that rude.

To her. Me, he all but accused of being a partner in crime with the gun-toting woman. Not to mention messing up some suspicious plan that involved carving himself up for who knew what reason. Maybe he was into some strange blood-sport sex cult. He certainly was sexy enough for five men; I wouldn't put it past him at all to be the sort of domineering, assured, self-centered man who loved to have women fawning all over him. Men! If I weren't so partial to them—sometimes, under certain circumstances—I'd give them up completely.

By the time the police were through interrogating everyone who witnessed what happened, I was exhausted. I could barely stand; my leg felt like someone had used it as a knife-throwing target, even after a nice policewoman got me a chair. I got to my feet and staggered a step before I got my leg under control. Christian's head whipped around from where he was talking to the officer in charge; his eyes narrowed and became almost black. I bared my teeth at him in what I hoped passed for a reasonably polite smile, and limped toward the door. I felt his gaze burning me every step of the way.

'Allie! Wait a minute; I'm not as fast on my feet as I used to be.'

'You were never fast on your feet. Admit it, Joy, you're an Amazon. A fat Amazon.'

'I'm pregnant, you annoying short person. I'm allowed to be fat.' Joy puffed her way up to me and held out a card. 'Come for tea tomorrow. We have a lot to talk about.'

I looked over her shoulder to where Christian was still watching me with a narrow-eyed glare. 'Thanks, but no, thanks. I don't think your friend there likes me overly much.'

Joy tipped her head to one side while Roxy grinned.

'Christian won't be there. He's never up that early. It'll be just us three. And possibly Raphael.'

'That's her fiancé,' Roxy added helpfully.

I couldn't help but glance at Joy's very pregnant stomach.

Roxy shot her friend a pointed look. 'I told you that you guys should have gotten married as soon as you knew you were preggers. What that poor child is going to have to go through if you don't tie the knot in time…'

'Come to tea, please,' Joy said, exuding warmth and happiness that slipped past all my guards. I hesitated, then took the card. Joy's smile grew wider.

'You think we should tell her about the steps?' Roxy asked Joy.

'Steps? I prefer elevators, thank you. Easier on the legs.'

Joy looked thoughtful. 'I hadn't thought of that, but you're right. Christian just completed the second step. If that doesn't convince him, nothing will. Now he has to believe me.'

'What sort of step? Convince him of what? Believe what? Why do I feel like you guys are talking about Eskimos, and I'm trying to explain how to make fudge?'

Roxy nudged me with her elbow. 'You're going to love the third step. Trust me on this.'

'Third step of what?' I asked them both.

Joy rubbed the small of her back, grimacing as she did so. 'We'll tell you about it tomorrow. Four o'clock. We have lots to talk about.'

I had a feeling that was going to prove to be the understatement of the year.

Chapter Four

By the time I made it back to my hotel room, it was too late to call the SIP offices and try to get the name and address of the hermit (man or woman, I wasn't sure which) I thought might be able to help me with my Release problem. I took a long bath instead, soaking my leg until I was all pruney, then got into a pair of soft sleeping shorts and a T-shirt, wrapping myself up in an oversize lumpy green bathrobe. With my scarred leg and odd eyes and decidedly frumpy nightwear I might not be a fashion plate, but I was certainly comfortable.

'Well, Mr. Kitty, it looks like it's just you and me again tonight. I hope you do your disappearing act tomorrow when the maid comes in. I'll send you on as soon as I can, but don't hold your breath until then. I need to talk to that hermit first.'

I spent some time writing up notes on the evening's events, then pulled on my sweatpants and shirt to pop downstairs to leave Corrine an e-mail saying I had her book and would bring it home with me. That done, I hung around the lounge for a bit, but eventually the strange looks I was getting (sweatpants and sunglasses were evidently not considered haute couture) were enough to send me back up to the privacy of my room.

'I see privacy is a relative term in London,' I commented as I closed the door behind me. Christian was in possession of the sole comfortable armchair in the room, his legs crossed with casual elegance, the fingers of one hand rubbing his chin as he watched the three-legged cat roll on its back and bat with ineffectual paws at the fringe of the bedspread. 'How did you get in here, what do you think you're doing, what was your little game last night, who were those people who ran off, how dare you think I knew anything about that madwoman with the gun, and are you or are you not a vampire?'

Sleek sable eyebrows pulled together as he rose gracefully to his feet and made an exquisite bow. 'I don't believe we've been formally introduced. I am Christian Johann Dante. Your name is…' He frowned. 'Allie?'

'It is. It's short for Allegra.'

'Ah. I dislike diminutives; they are so common. I will use Allegra.'

My hackles went up instantly. I crossed the room to snag the wooden seat sitting before the dressing table, hauling it into a position from which I could more effectively glare at him. 'Is that so? Well for your information, Mr. Stuck-up, my twin brother gave me that nickname. My brother who died eighteen years later in the same accident that crippled my right leg. So you'll have to pardon me if I don't find it at all common.'

He stood watching me for a moment until I made an annoyed sound and told him to sit down.

'I am sorry that you lost your brother. I, too, lost a dearly loved brother in my youth. It took me many years to forgive myself for living when he died.'

I glanced up at him, startled that he felt the same way about his brother's death that I did when Leslie died.

'Tell me of this accident. How old were you when it occurred?'

I slammed the guards on my mind down tight against the gentle probes I could feel him sending out. No one played in my head without an invitation. 'Why don't you try answering a few questions before you start asking them? Namely, how did you get in here?'

He shrugged, an elegant move that matched all of his other elegant moves. Even though he was dressed in a simple black sweater with simple black pants, I had the strangest sense that I wasn't seeing him as he really was —he should be dressed in silk shirts with ruffled fronts and lace on the cuffs, I thought, with those colorful vests that men wore a couple hundred years ago, and tight breeches and boots that reached to his knees. And a riding crop—he looked very much like a riding crop kind of guy.

'I wished to speak with you. I had no idea that your room was already occupied.' This he said looking at the cat, now engaged in licking its belly, 'or that you would find my presence so objectionable. I felt that after the evening's deplorable event we had some unfinished business to settle.'

'Uh-huh,' I said, not in the least bit convinced. 'Unfinished business like just what were you doing last night?