Deathtrap (Crossbreed #3)(58)
“So we have a name and we have to sit on it.”
“Smart as a whip.” He secured the hood over my head and tucked my hair inside. “You should wear a warmer coat.”
“It blew up in the fire, remember? Anyhow, a few flurries don’t bother me so much.”
“Liar.”
I chuckled and matched his stride as we headed back to the door. “When I lived on the streets, I got used to the cold. Now I’m spoiled because of a warm bed and a hot meal every day.”
“I’ll have to rectify that. Remind me to put your bed on the roof when we get home.”
“And what would you do if I froze?”
“Bury you in Greenland. Worry not, lass. I promise to come get you before archaeologists in the future discover your body in a cryogenic state.”
“You’ll still owe me a beer.”
Chapter 17
Amber sat listlessly at a table near the front hall, watching people dancing and having a good time. She’d been in a haze since Christian wiped her memory, and thirty minutes later, she finally snapped out of her stupor and checked her phone.
“How’s the um… bargain hunting going?” I asked Claude, trying to be discreet about the black market trading.
He scooted down in his seat, still reading a text message from Gem. “It’s intense. Sometimes these things can go on for days.”
I gave Christian a lethal glare. “I’m not sitting in here for days.”
Impervious to my harsh tone, he crunched on his candy. “Would you rather we go bowling? I’m afraid there aren’t many options. Here we have food, drink, comfortable seats, and lovely breasts,” he said, admiring the buxom waitress who approached our table, her shirt thin and tight.
Leaning against the booth, she flashed a smile that was signed, sealed, and delivered to Claude. “I do love me a tall drink of water. Can I get you something to nibble on?”
I smiled, unable to help myself. “He’s starving. Do you have any steak and fries?”
Claude lowered his head ashamedly. After devouring half the menu at Ruby’s, his tank was full and the look of regret in his eyes never more evident.
Apparently not wanting to insult the waitress, he slid a predatory gaze up to her and purred, “I’m in need of nothing at the moment, female. I’m just fine.”
“Yes. Yes, you are,” she agreed. “I’ll bring a pitcher of water and a few glasses.”
She sauntered off, and Claude admired her, but not in a lecherous way. Claude looked at women differently than most men, as if he admired their power and spirit more than their assets.
If what Claude said about auctions was right, we might wind up sitting around for a long time. Club owners didn’t care how long patrons stayed. Hours, days… just so long as they kept ordering off the menu. Vampires don’t require sleep, and not everyone needs a job. Old money offers the luxury of a sedentary lifestyle.
Regardless, I wasn’t comfortable with the idea of staying in a place like this for longer than needed. The thought lingered in the back of my mind that one of those Vamps I’d staked years earlier might show up and recognize me.
I put my hands on the seat, and my pinky brushed against Christian’s. When he hooked his finger over mine, I snapped my arm away.
Was he just trying to rile me up to see if I was attracted to him?
If so, he was right.
I’d grown up fascinated by clean-cut men because I perceived that as signifying a better life. Those were men of money or ambition—people who didn’t aspire to live in a trailer home. To be attracted to a Vampire who didn’t shave, wore shirts with holes, and owned a shack in the woods made no sense. But something about Christian’s brooding personality and dry humor appealed to me.
I squirmed in my seat when he gave me a roguish grin.
He also had smoldering eyes, and sometimes he licked his lips and did this thing where he gently scraped his teeth over his bottom lip as if he were in the midst of a sexual fantasy. The more feelings I developed for him, the more skeptical I became. Did his blood have residual influence over me? If so, then did mine have any power over him? Was part of him still inside me? It sometimes felt like none of the men I’d drunk from had left my body, so maybe having a little of Christian wasn’t such a bad thing.
And then there was the revelation of him being the hero of my past. I hadn’t been able to shake that out of my head all day. Neither of us had brought it up since, but the scene kept replaying in my mind like an old movie stuck on a loop. When he folded his arms on the table, I stared at them, imagining what his burned body had looked like after the fire and the pain he must have endured while healing.
All for me.
I might have won a silly bet for a favor, but in reality, I was the one who owed Christian.
“Something vexes you,” he said quietly. “Your heart rate is accelerating.”
“Stop doing that. You can’t read into everything.”
He propped his elbows on the table, his fingers laced together in a prayerlike gesture. He had his thumbs straight out and chin resting on them. When I caught the direction of his gaze, I realized he was staring at my necklace.
I reached inside my leather jacket and zipped my hoodie all the way to my neck.
The waitress finally appeared with a pitcher of ice water and three glasses. While she poured, Claude put his phone away. After she left, we each took a long sip and stared aimlessly around the bar. When I peered over at Christian again, his fangs were visible.