Michaela watched the bewilderment on his face fade and be replaced by something…
Dangerous, she thought, sensing his attraction to her, sensing the want in him that could make him risky. Somehow that wasn’t enough to deter her from fulfilling his challenge. She would make him believe.
When he holstered his weapon, she brushed past him, trying to ignore her response. She wasn’t usually the suit-and-tie type, not to mention that he was older than the other men who’d been in her life.
Of course, that was because dead or gone was her typical type. Not old. Especially since old was something she would never become.
Ignoring her contradictory emotions, she put a sexy roll in her walk as she moved toward the Blood Bank. A quick glance over her shoulder told her that he was totally buying in to her challenge. A thrill of anticipation shot through her.
She smiled, pleased that he seemed intrigued, and headed straight to the bouncer. The big man glared at her until she allowed a hint of her gleaming gaze to emerge. He hesitated, maybe sensing the difference in her power, but then she repeated the action and added a bit of fang.
The bouncer relented and, with a broad sweep of his arm, lifted the red velvet rope for her and the FBI agent. As they slipped beneath the boundary, the bouncer emitted a low growl, as if to warn her that the two of them were not fully welcome.
She ignored him and plowed forward, the FBI agent close to her back. After they entered and moved out of hearing of the bouncer, he leaned forward and asked, “Bouncer is a vampire?”
His tone was laced with disbelief, but she nodded as she navigated through the crowd with him nearly plastered to her back. The bar was full tonight, packed with dozens of human Goth and wannabe vampire types, as well as the real deal. Colored spotlights skittered unevenly over the crowd. On the small stage at the far end of the club, glaring light illuminated a band playing loudly and aggressively, half singing half screaming indeterminate lyrics. The strong thumping bass and heavy drumbeats pulsed across the club and incited those on the dance floor to thrash and jump in rhythm.
The lights and noise bothered her senses. She hurried to the back of the club where it was quieter and dimmer, creating a feeling of false intimacy. The area was crowded, but in the farthest corner was an empty table for two.
She sat down with her back to the wall, not wanting any surprises. Unexpectedly, he plopped down right beside her rather than across from her.
When she arched a brow in question, he shrugged and said, “Don’t want to have to watch my back, either.”
Understandable and yet provoking.
His physical presence was difficult to ignore, and his dark brown eyes seemed fathomless in the dim light.
She hoped he would not prove as fascinating as he appeared.
“So you expect me to believe the bouncer was a vampire and that there are other ones here, as well?” he said, examining the interior of the club.
There were definitely vampires present. She sensed the push of their undead force, but before she got into proving it, she wanted him to buy her a drink. She was low on cash and most men disappeared once they discovered the truth around them.
The truth about her.
Raising her hand, she signaled a waitress.
When the young woman arrived, Michaela said, “Cuervo shooter.”
Slipping a glance at her companion, she realized he was checking out the waitress, in a vamp way, not that she expected him to pick up on the signs so quickly. She shook her head.
He understood and ordered a shooter, as well.
The waitress hesitated and Michaela explained, “You’re new. You’ve got to pay up front.”
He snorted in disgust, but quickly dug into his pocket, peeled off a twenty from a moderate wad of cash and tossed the bill on the scarred black Formica table. The waitress immediately scooped up the money and walked away to place their orders.
“Must get nice clientele in here,” he said as he tucked his money into his pocket. The motion pulled his suit jacket back, exposing the butt of his gun. At an adjacent table, one of the patrons noticed the weapon and quickly scurried away.
Jesus wondered why the man felt compelled to run. In his line of business, it was an obvious sign of guilt, but in here…
For all the patrons’ Goth rebelliousness, they were quite uniform in their manner of dress; lots of black, from the leather and jeans to their hair.
“You said you’d make me truly believe,” he reminded his companion just as the waitress came to the table with their drinks.
The waitress placed the lime, saltshaker and shots of Cuervo on the table. His companion bit into the lime, skipped the salt and then downed the tequila in one gulp before ordering another.
“Thirsty?” he asked as he paid in advance once again.
“Once guys see how things are, most of my dates don’t last beyond the first drink.” She fidgeted with the empty shot glass.
“Didn’t realize that buying you a drink made this a date,” he said, perplexed by her, by the self-assurance on the surface that seemed to hide a well of vulnerability.
“Not your usual type, I suspect,” she said and fully faced him.
Not his type?
He wondered about that as he sipped his shot of tequila and studied her. Her dark, nearly black hair fell in choppy layers against her roundish face. Cerulean-blue eyes bore an exotic slant and hinted at extreme intelligence, while pale, creamy skin appeared to be as soft as satin sheets.
The black leather jacket she wore fit tight against her body, accentuating both her slimness and slightness of stature, but the tank top beneath the jacket exposed the lushness of her curves.
He imagined exploring those curves. Raising that lean, strong body against his and slipping within.
His type, he thought, fighting back his body’s response. Now that they were up close, he guessed her to be at least a decade younger than his thirty-eight years.
“Don’t have a type and I’m not the kind to drink and run,” he said, taking another sip of the Cuervo to quell the desire awakening within him.
She laughed, the tone of her merriment rich and uninhibited. It had been a long time since he had allowed himself that kind of freedom, but she clearly was not one to hold back.
That only intrigued him more, especially when she challenged him with, “You may be the kind to run after you see what goes on in here.”
Elegantly raising her hand, she gestured to the far corners of the club, close to where they sat. He could barely make out the shadows of people engaged in various activities.
Leaning close to him, she said in a hushed tone, “Look carefully if you dare.”
Her warm breath against the base of his neck was sweet. He imagined the kiss of that breath elsewhere and decided it warranted the risk.
“I dare.”