A Vampire for Christmas(40)
Too intrigued not to invite him in, Olivia hoped she wasn’t doing the last thing she’d ever do. On the other hand, the horned devil sitting on her shoulder prodded her with its pitchfork and whispered, “Risk,” and she jumped at the opportunity.
Come in,” she coaxed, and offered the man a warm smile. She tugged down her shirt, hoping to hide the bleach stain at her hip. “It’s nothing fancy, but it’s home. Wish I had time to get a tree, but I’d never be able to lug it up the outside stairs. Maybe a small one.” Oh, how she tended to babble when she was nervous. Deep breath, Olivia. Chill. “Come in.”
As if released from an invisible barrier, the vampire stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He stomped his boots on the mat.
So you really need an invite to enter a place? That’s so cool.”
Personal property, yes. Not so much on the public property. What are you?”
I don’t understand the question.” She strode toward the bathroom. “I’m going to get some medical supplies.”
What I mean is,” he called after her, “what kind of monster are you that you know what I am, and don’t seem the least bit frightened by me?”
She glanced in the bathroom mirror. Monster? If he only knew she was an even bigger monster. Did he know? He hadn’t said anything to clue her that he was aware who she was. Interesting.
On the other hand, she wasn’t exactly playing up the glamorous mode right now. She reached for the medical supplies and forced herself not to dash on some blush and eyeliner. That would look too obvious.
Returning to the living room with alcohol, cotton balls and Band-Aids, she set them on the glass coffee table and gestured for him to sit on the leather couch. “Do you want me to be frightened of you?”
He shrugged, which only drew attention to his broad shoulders. The man was not shockingly pretty, but a good, solid stretch of sex appeal and confidence—mercy, those melting snowflakes in his hair twinkled under the lights. Olivia was so tired of models and hangers-on. This guy was a bright gift of normality, aside from the fact he sported fangs, which added an irresistibly dangerous twist to this encounter. He was everything she should avoid—hell, run from and never look back.
Sit down,” she said, with another gesture to the couch. “What’s your name?”
What’s yours?” He stalked to the couch and made himself at home, slamming his wet boots up on the coffee table.
Olivia shoved his feet off and then pulled off his boots and tossed them to the rug by the door.
Hey!”
The carpet is beige and a bitch to clean.”
And he—damn, he smelled delicious. A mix of winter snow, leather and aggressive male. While all her caution alarms sounded, Olivia decided this was an opportunity she couldn’t let pass. If she could do this, she could do anything. And what she really needed in her life right now was a burst of confidence.
I’m Olivia….” She paused, waiting for his reaction, but sensed if he hadn’t already said something, that he likely wasn’t aware who she really was.
I’m a common mortal,” she offered, avoiding all the sensational details that half the population knew better than she, “who is not a monster—although, there are times I can be very monstrous—and happens to believe that the world is populated by all sorts. Though I’ve never met one of those, uh…sorts until now. At least, not a real one. Those fangs are real, right?”
He nodded and she kneeled before him and unscrewed the cap from the alcohol bottle. “So what’s your name, and why were werewolves beating you up?”
As she said the W word it got stuck at the back of her throat, and a scream almost slipped by, but her stage training rescued her nerves from becoming all-out fear.
He leaned forward, meeting her gaze. Deep brown eyes flecked with dark spots to match the freckles on his nose held her mesmerized. How often did a man look a girl directly in the eyes? Didn’t seem to happen enough in her life. Wow. How long did it take before a look moved from stranger to friendship to so much more? Only a matter of seconds, she knew that. Wow, again. Holding his gaze, she realized he looked a little…lost.
Fighting the urge to touch his mouth, to feel him—was he different than a mortal man?—Olivia fended off the foolish move.
Name’s Daniel,” he said, leaning back and stretching an arm across the leather couch. His shirt tugged over tight abs and a rip down the side gaped to expose the rigid structure of his awesome physique. “And the damned dogs don’t like vampires. Not really in the holiday spirit, is it? Goodwill toward others and all that Christmas bullshit. It’s a vamp-werewolf thing, as far as I understand. They normally get along, but you’ll find racists among any breed.”