Real Vampires Have Curves (7 page)

I smiled at Damian. “Please, call me Glory. I
love
your house.”

“Thank you. You must come back for my Halloween costume party.”

“Sounds like fun.” Blade wasn't saying anything. Pouting? Seething? I couldn't complain. I'd made my choice. So it had left my stomach in knots and a hole in my heart. I'd learn to live with it.

“Are you sure you won't keep the car?”

Ah, Jerry the vampire speaks. In a cold, clipped voice that masked what I sensed was his hurt. Yes, I do know him well after four centuries. Well enough to know that this too, would pass. I couldn't imagine he'd ever walk away from me completely. That responsibility gene of his.

“I love it, but no, thank you.” I touched Jerry's arm. Solid and as unresisting as his will.

“And you won't come with me.”

“I can't. I have plans here.”

“Very well.” Blade exchanged a look with Damian. “You'll take her back to Frederick's?”

“Of course.” Damian actually bowed and clicked his heels. But the effect was ruined by the twinkle in his eyes. Green eyes if you can believe it. Startling with his dark hair.

Wait a minute. Forget Damian. Blade brushed my cheek with his thumb. “Good-bye, Gloriana.”

“You're leaving?” I'd been dismissed, that was clear from the look on Blade's face. “What is this? My way or the highway?”

Blade dropped his hand. “Your choice, not mine. Take care, lass.”

“But it's late.” On cue, a clock somewhere in the house chimed four. “It'll be daylight—”

“I'll manage. Thank you, Damian. I'll be in touch.”

I thought for a moment that Blade was going to just walk out the door. I really think he planned to. But he looked hard at Damian then grabbed me and kissed me. Not a “See you around, babe” kiss, but a “You're mine and I'll be back to claim you” kiss. Wow. I leaned into him, nipped his lower lip and kissed
him.
A “Right back at you, Jerry” kiss. And “See if Mara can top this” kiss. He wasn't the only one who could stake a claim. Yep, we're both twisted.

“You sure you want to leave, Blade?” Damian sounded amused and that was definitely a mood killer for Jerry. He jerked back, gave me a long look, then turned on his heel and left.

“You can still go with him.” Damian must have seen my woebegone look.

“No.” Damian had a gleam in his eyes. Of course, he'd smelled sex on Blade and me. And he could probably tell from various jiggles that I'd lost my underwear somewhere. Did he think I was a slut? I smiled. Let him. He was reading my mind so I sent him a little message. His eyes widened then he laughed.

“I'll be careful, Glory. Shall we go?”

“Why not?” I stepped outside and saw red taillights disappearing down the hill. I refused to give in to the urge to cry or throw something. Instead, I checked out the long, low and very vintage black Cadillac convertible at the curb.

“Cool car.”

“Thanks.” Damian opened the passenger door and I slid onto a soft, black, leather seat.

“Gothic castle. Halloween parties. Vamp-mobile. Aren't you afraid you'll be outted by some overzealous groupie?”

Yeah, if word gets out you're vamp, the kinky, weird and genuinely awestruck fans won't leave you alone. Some vamps go for that sort of thing, but the downside is that with notoriety you get hunters eager to put another notch in their stakes.

“It's called ‘hide in plain sight,' Glory. You should see me in my Dracula costume at Halloween.”

Damian drove like he'd moved, assured, easy. He glanced at me and grinned. “Thanks.”

Here we go. Maybe I could nip this in the bud. I
can
read minds, but I don't because it's usually too much information, if you know what I mean. And it really irritates me when other vamps poke into
my
mind uninvited.

“Message received, Glory.” He reached over and patted my hand. “It's a bad habit so I may slip once in a while, but I'd like to be your friend.”

Friend. I didn't have to be a mind reader to see that Damian was interested in more than friendship. Hey, I was flattered. Damian was hot. Of course he was probably only intrigued because Blade had had me. So what?

After I'd mourned Blade for the thousandth time, I'd be ready for someone in my life. Damian wasn't a cowboy, but the whole man in black, vamp thing was working for me. And he was an old vampire. He reeked of power behind his careless attitude.

When we pulled up in front of Freddy's, the front door flew open.

“Glory! Come inside. You, too, Damian.” Freddy was paler than usual and his hair was on end.

“What is it?” We both hurried up the walk. Derek, CiCi and Freddy were gathered around Flo who sat slumped on the couch, sobbing like her heart was breaking and babbling in Italian. Valdez stood guard by the door.

Damian knelt in front of Flo and spoke to her in soothing tones in her native language.
“Dios mio!”
He pulled her up and wrapped his arms around her.

Freddy pulled me aside. “He'll calm her down. They've known each other forever.”

“But what happened?”

Flo turned and looked at me, her cheeks wet with tears. “Trevor. I found him. He's
morto.
Dead.”

“My God!” I sank onto the nearest chair, my knees weak. “What happened?” Trevor. I hadn't exactly fallen in love with the vampire, but he'd seemed harmless enough.

“My fault. I should have felt the hate. Warned him.” Flo shuddered and pressed her face against Damian's chest. She wailed something in Italian.

“What did she say? Was it Westwood?” I couldn't breathe. Vampire hunters. Here in Austin.

Damian patted Flo's back and swallowed. “Westwood? Not unless he stakes with a wooden cross.”

"I smell cat. If that Sheba followed me here ...”
Valdez's nose twitched and his tail quivered on point.

“Will you quit obsessing about Sheba? CiCi wouldn't let her follow you.” Poor Valdez. He'd been beyond patient, but Sheba had stuck to him like a burr the whole time we'd been at CiCi's. It was as if the cat had sensed the one entity that didn't want her and decided to torment him. Or was it love?

“This building allows pets. Someone's sure to have a cat. Get over it. A cat isn't a danger to
me.
”

“I ain't afraid of no cat.”
Valdez plopped on the loveseat Freddy and Derek had just dragged in from the U-Haul.

“Maybe you should be.” Derek grinned and nodded to the closed door across the hall. “Werecat. Good looking red-head during the day, but by night . . . hello, kitty.”

Shape-shifters. Why was I not surprised? But I was cool with it, just happy to be moving. After Trevor's death, I'd had three choices. Hustle my butt to Blade. Too wimpy. Barricade myself in Freddy's house with his mother. Way too wimpy. Or carry on with my plan while staying alert. I picked door number three. No way was I letting some vamp-hungry religious nut dictate
my
moves.

And who should come riding to my rescue but Damian. Who happened to own a building in the trendy warehouse district. With, surprise, surprise, an empty shop on the ground floor and apartments on the top three. With excellent security, of course.

Was this all just a little too convenient? If Blade had his hand in this, I'd kill, well, at least
try
to kill him. But you know what they say about gift horses. So I'm moving into 2C.

Freddy and Derek couldn't wait to introduce me to my new neighbor. I've run across shape-shifters before. There'd been one werewolf who'd been a hunk in human form and more than tempting. But he kept pressuring me to shape-shift too. No, thank you, Wolfman. We'd parted ways. Talk about your ugly breakups.

“It's three frickin' thirty in the morning, guys. Is this building on fire?” A tall woman with red hair that would've made Clairol weep with envy stood between Freddy and Derek, poking them both in the chest with what looked to be lethal peach-frost fingernails. She wore a faded orange University of Texas T-shirt and plaid boxers. Her legs were a mile long and she looked like a model. I was prepared to hate her.

“Sorry, Lacy, we forgot you're a day person. Meet your new neighbor, Gloriana St. Clair. Then you can go back to bed. Glory, this is Lacy Devereau.”

Lacy gave me the once over then swept the room, her eyes narrowing on Valdez, who'd leaped down to stand by my side. He growled and I grabbed his collar, though I knew from experience that if Valdez decided to bolt, he was gone.

“Back off, fur ball. I was here first.” Lacy obviously wasn't talking to
me.

“Stop it, Valdez.” I smiled and held out my other hand. “Please, forgive my, er, protector. He's got a love-hate thing with cats.”

“A hate thing that says haul your skinny ass out of here.”
Valdez bared his teeth.

Lacy laughed and shook my hand. “All bark. I've met his kind before. And, fur ball, you have no idea what my cat form looks like.” She purred and bent down to look into his eyes. Whatever they said to each other inside their heads seemed to settle things for the moment.

“Let me go. It stinks in here. I'll be on your bed if you need me.”
Valdez looked up at me.

“Fine.” I released him and watched him trot toward my new room. He paused in the doorway to glance over his shoulder and growl. Lacy growled back, her nails suddenly claws, and he sniffed and walked stiff-legged out of sight.

“Sorry about that, Lacy.”

“Not to worry, Glory. Dogs are as important to me as a flea on my backside. He bites, I scratch him right out of existence. Which is what I told him a moment ago.”

Hmm. Interesting neighbor. Could she read my mind? She smiled and nodded. Peachy. All I needed was another one.

“Damian said he's leasing the shop downstairs to you. An antique store?”

“Right. Vintage Vamp's Emporium.”

“Cool. I've had some retail experience and”—she leaned forward—“I'm kind of an antique myself.”

“You want a job?” This was good news. I needed a day worker and, despite her rather aggressive attitude with my dog, Lacy seemed like a competent person. I looked her over. She did have a skinny butt, so I still might hate her. And her skin. Creamy and absolutely glowing despite not a speck of makeup. Shouldn't werecats have whiskers or something?

“I
need
a job. I was working in the coffee bar at a local bookstore when this idiot told his buddy he'd just dumped a litter of kittens on the side of the freeway. He was laughing. ” She shuddered. “Those poor babies didn't stand a chance.”

“Jerk.”

“Exactly. So, oops, I dropped a latte in his lap.”

“Hot latte, I hope.” Kittens on the freeway. I can't tolerate cruelty to animals.

“You'd better believe it. But it got me fired.”

“Too bad. I've always been an animal lover. Why do you think I keep a dog around?”

“You should switch to cats, Glory. Much more interesting. Not so slavishly devoted, of course.”

Time for a subject change. “Where are Freddy and Derek?” Not that it mattered. The U-Haul was empty and we'd already arranged for one of Derek's mortal friends to turn it in tomorrow.

“They hit it as soon as they introduced us. Probably bringing down their prey as we speak. Maybe you should join them while you've still got darkness.” Lacy yawned and stretched. Yes, she did have a kind of cat persona going on.

“We don't call it prey. And I haven't fed that way in years.” Obviously vamps and werecats have a different mind-set.

“Too bad.” Lacy looked around the room. “So how about that job? I could use the money and I do know a thing or two about old stuff.” She walked over to the pile of clothes Freddy had dropped onto a chair and picked up a vintage flapper dress.

“I had one of these. Cute.” She looked at me, then down at her own willowy body. “I don't think we're the same size.”

I wish. “Exactly how antique are you?”

“Old enough to remember when women wore these.” She pulled out a boned corset and wrapped it around her. “I'm sure a man invented this. I'd like to see one pull into a twenty-inch waist.”

I was really liking Lacy. “You can work a register?”

“Of course.” She tossed the corset back into the pile. “So do I have the job?”

“I'll give you a shot. I'm planning to be open twenty-four hours a day, Tuesday through Saturday. We'll have Sundays and Mondays off. Sound okay?”

“As long as you pay me enough, no problem. We can work out the details later.” She yawned, a huge jaw cracker that showed some pretty impressive canines. “Sorry. I'm beat. Check with me when you wake up.”

“Will do.” I watched her stroll back into her own apartment and shut the door. Click. Click. Double dead bolts. Just like on my door. Nice.

The whole place was nice in a timeworn, shabby-chic kind of way. Having once been a warehouse it had high ceilings and wide hallways with great hardwood floors that creaked if you stepped just right. Someone had converted the top three floors into apartments back in the days when turquoise appliances had been the hot look. Now they were considered retro.

I'd already filled a cabinet with junk food for Valdez. Now I lugged a case of Bloody Merry into the kitchen and lined up a dozen of them in the empty fridge. Some vamps drink it hot, but, after living in Vegas and the desert heat, I've decided I prefer it cold—not that it's such a tasty treat to begin with.