Savannah Past Midnight (7 page)

I lead her inside and flip on the light, half
expecting her to begin curiously look around; instead, she pivots
and faces me.

Her expression is calm and unreadable as she asks,
“Am I really here because you need answers about what you saw that
first night, or for some other reason?”

Moments pass before I reply with the truth, “Gotta be
honest, more for me gettin’ to know more about you rather than the
shit that went down by River Street. You’ve been on my mind, baby,
plain and simple. That work for you?”

Like she’s sharing a secret, she says in a sly
whisper, “I’ll let you know when it doesn’t anymore.”

“Spirited. Like that ’bout you.”

“They all do, cowboy.”

Pissed, I lean in and practically grind out, “Dammit
girl, now don’t go comparin’ me to no other men from your past,
’cause I promise you that I’m not like anyone you’ve ever crossed
paths with.”

She blinks twice, as if my blunt honesty somehow
startled her. Then she replies carefully, “No, no, you’re
definitely not.”

We stare at each other for a long moment, the sexual
tension simmering between us, threatening to boil over.
Don’t
scare her. She’s in your house. Ease any fear she might have so she
won’t bolt. Lighten things up ASAP.

“Shit, now where’s my manners? Let’s see what I have
around here to offer you. Ain’t often I have guests.”

I somehow manage to pry my eyes off hers and turn to
swing the fridge door open, nearly cringing at what I see there.
The only items inside are three lone Sam Adams longnecks, an
unopened gallon of milk, and a nearly empty carton of OJ.
Shit.
Fucking shit. Motherfucker.

I snag a beer to offer to her when she peers around
my back. “I’m really not that interested in a drink. How about a
tour instead? So, what would you call all this?” She waves her
right hand around at the complete havoc of exposed plaster, beams,
sheetrock, power tools, ladders, and general wreckage. “Home Depot
Work in Progress Chic?”

My lips press together as I fight a smile. “Funny
one, babydoll. I’d like to think of it as one man’s crazed attempt
to bring back a slice of history. Estimate she should be straight
and restored to her long-lost glory in about two years. Don’t sleep
much, so this beauty gives me somethin’ to occupy my time with when
I’m not looking after the bar. We tend to keep each other company.
If you’re that interested in my fixer-upper, then I’m obliged to
give you the full tour. Follow me.”

I use the opener on my key ring to pop the top off
the beer and extend my arm in an exaggerated, sweeping motion.
“After you, wildcat. I’d watch where you step, though. Nails and
shit scattered about, at least down on this first level.”

She makes her way into the living room, slowly
winding around stacks of lumber and gallons of paint. Still
inspecting, she asks curiously, “Are you renovating this all on
your own?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Did you study architecture or historical
restoration?”

I choke out a laugh into my fist, nearly splashing my
beer all over myself.

She spins around, her eyes questioning.

“Shit no, wildcat. Never went past high school. But
that don’t mean a man can’t pick up a few books at the library.
There’s a world of free education out there if you go lookin’.
Learn as you go, that’s my motto. Wouldn’t have it any other
way.”

“So you have a creative streak in you then,
cowboy?”

“Wouldn’t go that far. Just like makin’ things right,
that’s all. Saw this house, and it was endless levels of fucked up.
They were practically givin’ it away due to the termite damage
alone. I could see past the chaos, knew it was somethin’ special
once, long ago. Needed a place to live after I did my ten years in
the army and wanted to settle downtown in the historic district, to
be close to the action. Figured we’d make a good match. So far, I
was right.”

“It suits you.”

I grin. “Oh yeah, how’s that? Weathered and
gritty?”

She takes a step closer and lowers her voice, the
streaks of moonlight complementing her flawless skin. “Hardly.
You’re an excellent match because you’re both damaged and quite
beautiful.”

My chest tightens. Her words … her simple damn
words are a direct hit. This woman, this strange, confusing woman,
with one look can somehow manage to see me, the real me. The man
whose need for self preservation has always driven him to walk the
solo route through life.

I shrug, doing my best to act casual.

“Yeah, well, might want to rethink that theory,
sugar. Just a simple guy who likes to fix shit—’bout as
straightforward as it gets. C’mon, I’ll show you what I’ve actually
finished so far. It’s not all ruin and grime inside.”

I prefer talking about factual shit versus emotions
of any kind—something I know little about and a topic that makes me
extremely uncomfortable.

Following behind her, I wonder how the fuck she can
be so graceful in those five inch stiletto boots, but then again,
everything about her is like that, so why should I be
surprised?

As she reaches the top step, I tell her, “Turn right
and head to the last door, the one at the end of the hallway.”

She’ll be the first person, with the exception of
Alex, to see the master bedroom. I’m curious what she’ll think of
the overhaul. A lot of fuckin’ sweat and endless hours went into
the restoration, but all well worth it, in my opinion.

She’s already far into the oversized room when I
flick on the light switch and lean a shoulder against the
ten-foot-high doorframe. She still has her back to me, but I see
how she’s taking it all in, inspecting everything from the relief
work surrounding the fireplace mantel to the original moldings that
decorate the walls. Her eyes linger on the four-foot-across carved,
circular ceiling medallion that surrounds the original though
refurbished crystal chandelier.

Very slowly she turns around and whispers in shock,
“
You
fixed all of this?”

I break her stare, suddenly embarrassed. Fiddling
with the label on my beer I ask, “Yeah. You like it?”

“It’s breathtaking. It reminds me of a house I knew
long ago. A once magnificent house. What you’ve done here is
remarkable, Colton. Honestly. I’m quite impressed.”

An intense sadness fills her eyes as she walks over
to run her fingers along the curves of the ironwork bed.

I clear my throat and say, “Yeah, well, the bed frame
came with the place—thought it was cool. Sanded it down to get the
rust off and then painted it black. The sofa was here as well.
Liked the curved lines, had it restuffed at a fabric place and took
the dude’s suggestion to cover it in brown velvet. Feels good to
sleep on. It’s where I crash most nights, actually. Come over here
and sit down with me.”

I sink down into the sofa and watch her walk toward
me.
Christ, even her walk is seductive as hell. Mental note:
keep at least a three-foot distance.

She sits close and shifts to face me, our knees
nearly touching.

Fuck.

Still staring in wonder she says, “I’m really
impressed by what you’ve done. I can only imagine what it looked
like before this.”

“I’m a determined man, sweetheart. Figured I didn’t
stand a chance unless I went room by room, so that’s my plan. When
I got the place, everything had basically been stripped down to the
beams. Guess the last owners gave up or ran out of cash trying to
tackle this house. Slow and measured seems to work for me, until
it’s all done right.”

She smiles, her white teeth gleaming from full,
inviting lips.
Fuck, I want those lips like a man in hell wants
two blocks of ice, one to sit on and one to lick.

Time to switch gears. Rapidly. Time for answers.

“You wanna explain to me why a wolf that huge and
aggressive wanted to rip us to shreds?”

“It never came close to harming us.”

“Bullshit, darlin’. I
saw
it. Thing matched my
weight, maybe more. I want you to explain to me what the
fuck
it wanted with you and how in the world you were able
to stop it. Seein’ as my brain can’t come up with one single
logical solution.”

She says solemnly, “I believe it was a Dire
Wolf.”

I shake my head in annoyance. “To hell it was,
sweetheart. I know wolves, used to shoot ’em for tryin’ to get at
our livestock back in Montana. That thing was different—a mutation
or somethin’ ’cause of its size alone. Besides, Dire Wolves have
been extinct for thousands of years.”

“Ten thousand years, precisely.”

“Fine, smart ass, ten thousand years. That doesn’t
explain why an animal that was easily forty percent larger than any
wolf I’ve ever crossed paths with was prowling around in the
fuckin’ middle of the night in a coastal southern city
or
how you, a woman who can’t weigh more than a buck twenty drippin’
wet was able to stop it without a weapon of any kind. You should’ve
been mauled to death, yet here you sit, without a darn scratch,
having a conversation with me about it. Now start talkin’, ’cause
my patience is wearin’ thin.”

In an eerily calm voice, she responds, “And just how
are
you
entitled to believe that you’re
owed
an
explanation from me?”

I lean in close, making sure that she can feel my
breath against her face. “ ’Cause, darlin’, I was there, was
part of it, and from this moment forward I’m choosin’ to make your
safety
my
business. You’re into some heavy shit, baby, I get
that. I want the details so I can protect you.”

She looks briefly shocked before ringing laughter
erupts from her throat. “
Protect
me? You … you want to
protect
me? Cowboy, if nothing else, you’re definitely
entertaining.”

The back of my neck burns hot in anger. In a flash I
close in on her, caging her between my arms and the high back of
the sofa.

My voice is a near growl. “I wasn’t
tryin’
to
be funny, Cosette. Already warned you not to tease. Now you’re
gonna tell me what I want to know. Right fuckin’ now.”

Her eyes are watchful but unemotional—a surprising
reaction for a woman who is basically immobilized by a man twice
her size.

In the faintest whisper she asks, “Are you
threatening
me, Colton?”

“Baby, I’d never threaten you. Why’d you even ask
that?”

“Because you are being excessively demanding. And if
you push me too far we’re going to have an issue with each other.
An issue resulting in your immobilization.”

I’m not giving an inch on this. “You’ve got the
demanding part right; it’s just how I’m wired. You’re still
stittin’ here, meaning you can’t be too frightened of me. Now start
talkin’.”

This close to her, I can smell her scent, an
intoxicatingly beautiful smell that reminds me of the snow white
gardenias I pass by on my early morning runs near Chippewa Square.
I shake my mind clear of the pleasant distraction and continue,
“Tell me about this ‘Dire Wolf’ theory then.”

“I think that someone or something genetically
engineered them and is also controlling them.”

“What?” I whisper, astonished. She’s either mental or
on drugs.

“You heard me. Wolves or animals of any sort were
never a threat to my kind until recently. About three weeks ago,
one attacked me. I was caught off guard; it was nearly fatal. Since
then, two more incidents have occurred. Different beasts every
time. They’re exceptionally strong and intent on coming after
me.”

“How can you be certain they weren’t the same
wolf?”

“Unless a dead-as-a-doornail wolf can regenerate and
change fur color, then they were different. I took them all out.
That’s why you’re still looking at me.”

“Wait … you said, ‘your kind.’ What did you mean
by that?”

“It’s best you not know, Colton, for your
safety.”

She’s not hiding info from me. No way.

“Fuck that. I want the truth. I know you’re
different, don’t know how, but whatever it is, I can handle it.
Tell me.”

“Why don’t you tell me what you
think
I
am?”

I lean in closer, our faces a hair’s breadth away.
“Woman, the time for stallin’ and playin’ games is over. Two outta
three times we’ve crossed paths have been under violent
circumstances. I saw you ravage a wolf with your mouth, not to
mention roundhouse-kick a three-hundred-pound bouncer backward
through a pane of thick glass. Now I’m gonna ask you one last time,
what the fuck
are
you?”

She seems hesitant, but ever so slowly something
changes in her features. A look of trust emerges as she answers,
“I’m something defined as ‘other,’ something that you would never,
ever be able to comprehend, Colton. I’m what they call a vampire,
and I have been since the year 1782.”

Confusion and a cold shiver of fear ripples through
my body as I stare at her, astonished to the point of shock.

“Colton, I know what must be running through your
head—that I’m either as mad as a hatter or something along the
lines of what you’re familiar with, maybe B-movie scenes from
vampire horror flicks or something along those ridiculous lines,
right? Well, we’re nothing like that. I’m merely a different
species. One that is both rare and exceptionally deadly, given the
right set of circumstances.”

Slowly the pieces all line up perfectly in my
recall—her superior strength, her monumental confidence and lack of
any fear, those fucking fangs, not to mention those intimidating
eyes that can change color. My bullshit radar is super keen and one
thing I know for certain is that this woman isn’t lying.
Well
I’ll be goddamned. Un-fucking-believable.

“Were you once human, then somethin’ happened to
you?”

“Exactly.”

“Tell me.”

“Why don’t you ease off a bit, and I might.”