Pretty When She Dies (Pretty When She Dies #1)(39)

“Hey, he thinks my blood should taste good,” she said, and re-crossed her legs.

“I just don't think a real vampire would be dressed like that and hitting on you, that's all,” the man answered her, and sipped more of his drink.

“So what would a real vampire be doing?” she asked him. She leaned her elbows on the bar and gaze at him curiously.

Lord Carfax skirted around her, realizing he had lost her attention.

“Telling you of your great beauty and desiring to see you under the stars.”

“That's a good one,” the other man said. He paid for Amaliya's new shot of vodka.



Giving him a silent salute, Amaliya downed it, and smiled. “He speaks pretty.”

“He speaks rubbish,” the newcomer said, and winked. He really didn't look like the sort that would hang out in a Goth club, but then again, she wasn't really sure what Goth was anyway.

“Look here,” Lord Carfax said in a voice that didn't sound so European and cultured now. “I am having a conversation with her and you need to f*ck off.”

“Why don't you take your fake fangs and bugger off?” The man had a light Irish inflection to his voice.

Amaliya arched both eyebrows. She signaled for another drink. She turned around on her stool so she could lean back against the bar, her elbows propped up on it. It made her cleavage and legs look outstanding.

Lord Carfax frowned deeply and appealed to Amaliya with his eyes.

“Please, my lady, let us retire to a table where we can be free of this insolent peasant.”

A light touch on her arm drew her attention to the newcomer with the pretty hazel eyes. He lightly drew his finger across her skin and gave her the most alluring look. Her skin tingled where he had touched her and she smiled as she made up her mind.

“Um, I'd rather stay with the peasant,” Amaliya answered and swung around to put her back to the vampire wannabe. The fangs were fake, as was the accent, and she felt bitterly disappointed. At least she could spend a few minutes flirting with the new guy. He might be good to eat. She was getting hungrier.

An angry snort was followed by a tirade of swear words, and then the frock coated man stomped off.

“He was amusing.” Amaliya said, and downed her new shot.

Again, the drink was paid for by the young man sitting next to her.

He tucked his money clip away in his jeans and picked up his new drink. “He's a real bloodletter. He hurt a girl pretty bad a few months ago, but she didn't press charges.”

“Seriously?” She looked over at Carfax. “Takes the vampire stuff too seriously, huh?”

“Not all vampire officiandos are bloodletters, but he is.” The man shrugged. “We don't care much for each other.”

“Well, he does try awfully hard,” Amaliya decided. “I bet some girls fall for it.”

“That's why he doesn't like me. I've stopped him on more than one occasion.”

“He's what gives Goths a bad name.”

“I don't care much for stereotypes anyway.” He graced her with a slight smile.

“Thanks for rescuing me. I'm Liya, by the way.” She extended her hand to him and was glad she had painted her nails.

He took it briefly and his skin was slightly cool to her touch. “Cian.”

“Huh? Key Inn? What?”

“Cian. It's Irish.”

“Oh,” she blushed slightly. “Nice name.”

“What are you doing in Austin?” he asked softly.

“I'm visiting. Having fun. Wait. How did you know-”

“I haven't seen you here before.” His gaze was steady as he took in her features and seemed to be reading her very thoughts. “I figured you just moved here or are passing through. Which is it?”

“I don't know yet,” she said vaguely. She began to feel uneasy. Great.

She probably got rid of wanna be vampire boy just to deal with serial killer man. “I'm figuring it out as I go along.”

“Really?”

He was definitely giving her the chills now. She nodded. “Yes, I am.

Anyway, nice meeting you, Cian. Maybe I'll see you around.”

Sliding off her chair, she headed across the club as quick as she could without giving herself away as a vampire. She was almost to the door when it dawned on her that she had nothing to fear. She could drain Cian dry and he couldn't stop her. Maybe it was good if he did follow her. She was getting a lot hungrier.

Stepping outside, she was hit by a blast of balmy air. She walked casually down the street hoping Cian would follow. If she remembered correctly, there was an alley nearby. She could duck down there and lure him after her if he was really going to give pursuit. Of course, the homeless would probably be tucked into the back doorways of the clubs. Maybe she could snag one of them if he didn't follow. She was getting hungry enough not to care if the person was dirty or smelly.

Turning the corner, she strolled toward I-35. Sensing she was being followed, she turned to see Cian on the sidewalk about ten feet behind her. Fighting down her unreasonable fear, she cut across the street and moved toward a more shadowed area. She could overtake him in the darkness, feed, and be done with this terrible need. Despite all the noise from the surrounding clubs and the nearby interstate, she could hear his footsteps behind her.