The Vampire's City Page 7

  Fintan sighs. “I don’t care who you set me up with. Act out as much as you like. You’re going. That was the deal. Dad needs you to go on these dates and one day pick someone suitable to settle down with. I agreed you could pick out my date if you did your duty for the family. And look at me, not complaining.”

  I’ve got enough on my plate without having to factor a dating life into the equation. I get why they think it’s important for me to have a baby, but really, it’s never going to happen. I made myself a promise, and I am good at keeping my word.

  “Bye, Fintan. See you at the restaurant at seven. I’ll be the one in the corner, plotting your inevitable demise.”

  “The reservation is for six, and you know it. I’ll see you in half an hour.”

  11

  The Sound of Your Voice

  Colette

  I end the call and fight the urge to chuck my phone across the room.

  When the thing rings in my hand not ten seconds later, I decide I have kept a lid on my temper long enough. “You know what, Fintan? You’re an ass. You and the sheriff can bite me. None of you want me to go on this date so I actually fall in love and enjoy my life. You don’t want to be Uncle Fintan. The sheriff doesn’t want to take his granddaughter out for ice cream. You all just want to make sure the Deadblood legacy is secure, so we have a loaded gun on the shelf, just in case.” My temper cracks like a whip. I hope it cuts through the stoic non-reactions they always give me when I voice my unhappiness. “Well, I don’t care about the family legacy! We’re not at war with the vampires. If we truly believe in the truce, then there is no need to prepare for a war. Stop pressuring me to meet someone and get pregnant. I don’t want that—not that you ever asked. Rome is in charge now, not Daddy Valentino. Rome doesn’t want a war any more than we do.”

  When Fintan doesn’t respond, I take his silence as confirmation that I am finally getting somewhere with him.

  “I am not going on yet another blind date, Fintan. I don’t care that the dude you chose for me is pre-med. I don’t care how badly he wants to be one of Father’s good little soldiers. I’m a business owner, dammit! I’m more than just a uterus, so you should be more than a giant ass.”

  When a voice deeper than Fintan’s answers, I nearly drop the phone with a squeak. “And I thought my family was messed up. They really pick out your dates?”

  “Who is this?”

  I can hear the ease in Rome’s voice, as if he’s always known exactly who he is, and has never had to fight anyone for it. “This is the man who’s coming to your salon tomorrow to meet with your father. I wanted to see if the table and chairs I had sent over to sit out front were to your liking.”

  “Rome? How did you get my phone number?”

  “Are you seriously asking me that? Because I can do more impressive things than just track down a phone number.”

  I check my outfit to make sure I am dressed. Then I chide myself because that hardly matters for a phone call. “I’ll bet you can. To what do I owe the pleasure of such an illegal peek into my personal life?”

  “I wanted to make sure the tables and chairs were acceptable.”

  I sit on my bed and thumb my white, lacy comforter, but pop up two seconds later, wondering if that is too suggestive a thing to do with Rome on the line. Sitting on my bed while talking to him feels…

  What is wrong with me?

  I shake my head at my fretting and don as normal a cadence as I can muster. “The tables and chairs are perfect. They even match the lavender of my logo. Tell Orlando he got all the details right.”

  “I’ll tell him exactly that.”

  My mouth tightens. “No, you won’t. You’ll say nothing, which you think passes for praise. Orlando deserves better than that from you.”

  Rome clucks his tongue at me. “Talk back to your brother all you like, but no one tells me what to do.”

  I guffaw. “Do you hear how arrogant you sound?”

  “Only when you point it out.”

  Touching my hair is a thing I do when I’m nervous around a cute guy. I scold my finger for twisting around a stray curl on my shoulder. Rome shouldn’t fall into the “cute guy” category.

  Since the night he stopped by last week, I haven’t seen him or had any contact. His men installed a flood light in the parking lot along with a new set of locks. Orlando dropped off the furniture while I was out. I’d written off my crush on Rome as just that, and sent it to the graveyard in hopes I didn’t waste my life pining for a man I cannot and should not pursue.

  Of course, ten seconds on the phone with him, and all that logic flies out the window.

  “You’re being good to me,” I blurt out without a lick of polish. “Why?”

  Rome’s voice is casual and laced with a quality that makes me want to lean toward him. “I’m not allowed to be good to you? Do I always have to be the big, bad wolf?”

  When I don’t have an answer, my cheeks heat unexpectedly. I feel like he can sense the effect he is having on me.

  “Where are you?” I ask him. He sounds like he is sitting down. I wonder if he’s at Daddy Valentino’s desk in their mansion, or if he put together a workspace all his own somewhere else in the massive family estate.

  “Where do you want me to be?”

  If I wasn’t blushing before, I am now. “I… I… I’m not sure.”

  His chuckle teases my insides. I love the sound that starts in his chest and vibrates up his throat. “You sound excited about your date tonight. Pre-med, eh? That’s impressive.”

  I lay back on my bed, resting my head on my pillow. “Yes, always impressive when your date has to send your brother his resume in order to take you out to your brother’s restaurant. It’s so forced, and honestly, I don’t have the time for dating.”

  “I can understand that. You just opened up a new branch of your business.”

  A sigh of vindication inflates my lungs. “Thank you! I was trying to explain that to Fintan, but it’s no use. So I’ll go on the date and be in bed two hours later. Same Friday night I’ve had once a month since I moved back.”

  “Colette?” There’s a beat of silence.

  I am afraid to speak.

  Rome’s cadence lulls my defenses into lowering. “I had a good time with you.”

  “I did too,” I confess. “You’re not the big, bad wolf I remember.”

  “And you’re a lot more beautiful than I remember.”

  I am floored at his honesty. I wish I could be that brave. But in my heart, I’m scared to anger my father that badly. I know if I say what I want out loud, it will be the sin my family will never forgive.

  I can’t even trust Declan with my secret crush, which is a first for me.

  Rome sounds uncertain of himself when he offers up a quiet, “Coletta?”

  “I shouldn’t be thinking about you,” I whisper, worried that if I say the scandal too loud, the universe will somehow find a way to rat me out. “I was glad you didn’t reach out after that night last week. I could tell myself I was reading into things.”

  “Are you skilled at lying to yourself?”

  “No. But I have to try.”

  Rome sounds at ease again, maybe even pleased. “You’re only saying that because of our families. But what if they weren’t an issue? What if I was a normal man who walked into your salon, having not seen you in years, and nearly forgot myself when I took one look at you? What if I was so impressed by your moxie, opening up that salon in Midtown, that I stayed up late wondering just how similar we are?”

  My eyes dart to the door, expecting to be overheard.

  That’s silly. I live alone.

  “Rome, we can’t talk like this. It doesn’t matter that I want to…” But again, I cut myself short.

  Rome’s voice taunts me. “What do you want to do to me, Youngblood?”

  My heart hammers in my chest. I move off the bed to check the locks on my windows. Even though my bedroom is on the second floor, I have to ensure no one can get near
me to hear this conversation. It should never be happening.

  I squinch my eyes shut. “You have a freckle on your lower lip.”

  Rome stops, and I can hear the squeak of his chair. “What?”

  “I don’t know what I would do with you if things were different, but I am positive it would involve sucking on your lip until I can get the image of it out of my head.”

  “Mm.”

  I love the sound of Rome’s purring. It makes me want to stroke his chest—another thing I am not supposed to want to do.

  “But none of that matters, Rome. You know we shouldn’t be talking like this. You have your family to think about, and I have… I have a date.”

  “I want to see you again. Trust me, the more you try to put my lower lip out of your mind, the more you’re going to crave it. I’ve been positively possessed by the shape of your hips, so I know what I’m talking about here.”

  “My hips? Men are weird. At least mine was normal. Lips are sexy.”

  “Apparently,” he chuckles. “But there’s a curve to your hips. They’re just begging me to trace my fingers down them.”

  I touch my hip, dragging my finger up and down my side.

  “Tré-sur, what are you wearing?”

  It’s an innocent enough question, but his voice does things to my insides. It makes me wonder if anything remains innocent in his hands.

  “A dress. Pink satin. Knee-length. It’s a Jé-Nor.”

  Like he cares to know the designer’s name.

  He hisses. “You shouldn’t have told me it was satin. Now I’m picturing how it looks on you. How soft it must feel. You dressed up for this guy you don’t know?”

  “No. I don’t like the fit of this dress, but I have to look like I’m trying. It keeps Fintan and my father happy-ish.”

  “I know that quest. It never ends well.”

  I lay back down on my bed, not caring that my dress will wrinkle. “I’m starting to realize exactly that.”

  Rome sighs. I can tell he’s about to lay his cards on the table. “I don’t know about you, but this sort of thing doesn’t happen for me. I’m too focused on work to notice much else. But ten seconds with you, and I started to forget about all of that. I was simply myself for a solid half hour, which is a world record.”

  I roll onto my side, hugging my pillow. “I know the feeling. I stopped worrying and finally enjoyed my life when I was with you.” I steel my heart mid-hemorrhage. “It will pass. It’s a crush, Rome. Forbidden fruit and all that. I’ll forget your lips soon enough.”

  Rome sounds stern now, almost angry. I picture him leaning forward at Daddy Valentino’s desk.

  Crimson carpet to match the drapes.

  Giant mahogany desk filled with stacks of papers. “You’re young yet, so you think connections like this happen all the time. I’m telling you, they don’t. Not in my experience.”

  I close my eyes and wish things could be simpler, that all of this could be easy and fun, instead of frightening. It comes with the steep price tag of losing my family if they find out I am flirting with disaster. “I can’t cross this line, Rome. I can’t just up and do what I want. There are expectations. Hence the date tonight. I was only allowed to move back to Mayfield because I agreed to try to find a husband.”

  I grimace at how archaic the whole thing is.

  Rome’s voice is calm, despite the stormy implications of what this all could mean. “I’m not trying to push you into something you don’t want. Say the word, and I won’t call again.”

  I should tell him exactly that, but I open my mouth and the wrong thing tumbles out. “I like the sound of your voice.”

  I cringe. That was way too much to reveal.

  Rome answers back with a casual, “How does my voice sound to you when I say that I’m not playing games? I’m going to start calling you at night to make sure you got home safe. I have it on good authority that you like the sound of my voice. Maybe I can give you some good dreams to hold onto.”

  I bite down on my lower lip, holding my pillow to my chest. “I might like that.”

  “Mm. Enjoy your date tonight, little cannoli. I want to hear all about it when I call tomorrow night.”

  A thrill races through my veins. Though I know I am doing the wrong thing, I can’t stop smiling.

  I end the call, blinking at Rome’s number on my cell. I commit the string of digits to memory, because I know I can’t put him in my phone as a contact.

  No, this will be my little secret.

  12

  Bad Date

  Colette

  I knew this date would be a bust before I even sat down. This should have been the first clue that I am not ready for this matchmaking nonsense. It was part of the deal, though, of my father letting me move home to open a business in Midtown. I’m supposed to start down the long path of finding someone, so our gruesome family legacy is secure.

  We are at the table in the front window, so the establishment can show off that the Last Deadblood dines here. It will boost Fintan’s bottom line, which he is always fussing about.

  I keep my posture straight and wait for a camera outside to flash before I take another bite of my lobster.

  That’s right, Fintan. You force me to go on these dates; I will order the most expensive thing on the menu.

  Thomas is fine, and that’s exactly it. He’s fine. Not exciting, not funny, not a single notable thing.

  “Working on cadavers is a lot easier than I thought it would be. One guy threw up when he made his first incision, but I’ve taken to it quite well.”

  It’s the tenth thing Thomas has been very good at, and I couldn’t care less. He’s getting his photo taken. The papers will speculate who my flavor of the month is now, and he will be interviewed by the Mayfiend Morning News while people tune in all over the world to see if the Last Deadblood has finally found her match.

  Fun times.

  “That’s great,” I drone pleasantly enough to pass as conversational. When the waiter walks by to tend to the table next to us, I flag him down. “Could you send the check over when you get a second?” Then to Thomas, I add, “I’m not much of a dessert person.”

  It’s a filthy lie. I love sweets. It’s my favorite part of any meal, and the only reason to eat dinner, in my opinion. But this man has talked about how great he is at slicing up a dead body one too many times. I’m gearing up to ditch early, which is right on time for me. I never make it to dessert on these setups.

  Thomas leans in, cutting to the chase. “You can tell your father that I would be quite the asset if he decides to start fueling the weapons in preparation for an uprising. Tell the sheriff that I can draw blood in my sleep.”

  My blood. He’s talking about drawing my blood to make weapons out of. He wants to dip bullets in my blood.

  Thomas is not on this date for me; he’s on it to further the radical agenda. He wants what the revolution craves: to exterminate vampires using my blood, since that is the most formidable weapon.

  I stand as my upper lip curls. I toss my napkin on the table, letting the reporters on the other side of the window get the clear picture that this date is not a match made in Heaven. A few more cameras flash, but I don’t care. Let them get every word for their gossip rags. “We’re finished here. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but we’re at peace. I’ve never been okay being a tool to be used for war, and I never will be.”

  Thomas grimaces but doesn’t bother backpedaling. “Sure, there’s peace now. But you do realize that it’s only a matter of time before the vampires need to be put in their place again. They’re a violent species. The prisons are filled with them.”

  I should shut up. I shouldn’t speak out against my father, but I can’t help myself. “Yes, over-policing impoverished areas will do that. I want nothing to do with your revolution. The world needs more people than just those who look, think and act like you.”

  Thomas’ voice lowers because I am attracting attention. “You know that’s naïve. The re
volution is coming. You’re a key part of that.”

  Fintan can hear every word from his date two tables over. He sighs and waves me off, dismissing me from the ritual I want no part of. It’s his surrender that he chose wrong when picking out my date for the month.

  “Goodnight, Thomas.” I whirl on my heel after outright dismissing him like the princess I was raised to be. Shoulders rolled back, I stalk out of my brother’s restaurant and straight into the pack of reporters who all want their soundbite.

  I feed them the same one-liners I gave them last month when my date went south.

  “I am happier dining alone.”

  “I wish Thomas well.”

  “Please grant me a little privacy and let me pass.”

  Finally, they part so I can walk to my car, my stilettos clicking the entire way.

  I am livid that this is the best candidate I attract.

  A new, more devious thought occurs to me.

  Perhaps Thomas isn’t the best I can do. Glancing around at passersby, I reach into my purse and fish for my phone. I pull out the pink bejeweled device and dial the number I know I shouldn’t.

  When Rome answers with a breathy, “An hour-long date, and now you’re calling me? I’m guessing it went poorly.”

  “You guessed right.”

  “Tell me about it, tré-sur.”

  He sounds out of breath, like I caught him mid-jog.

  “No, no. You’re in the middle of something. I was turned around, is all. I shouldn’t have called. I don’t know why I did.”

  “You called me because you like being near me. You were with another man, and it felt wrong to sit across the table from a man who isn’t me.”

  I scoff, though he’s not far off the mark. “Well, aren’t you sure of yourself. Does your thirst for blood also come with a massive dose of ego?”

  “In fact, it does. My swelling ego is only made worse when a beautiful woman leaves her date early and calls me because she just has to hear the sound of my voice.”