“I knew you were a hunter,” she said, gesturing for him to take a seat.
“I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“Me too. But it wasn’t the first time.” Tessa sank down on the sofa. “I don’t know why it bothered me so much tonight.” She shook her head, as if to clear the memory. “Let’s not talk about it.”
“Whatever you wish.”
“Have you killed many vampires?”
“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it.”
She made a vague gesture with her hand. “I guess I’m just morbidly curious.”
“I haven’t kept count.”
“Oh. You told me you sold antiques. So, what are you, some kind of merchant by day and superhero vampire slayer by night?”
“Not exactly. Hunting is more of an avocation than a job.” Better she should think him a hunter than what he truly was, he thought, amused.
“Well, you’re certainly good at it. How did you know those two were following me?”
“I saw them pull over in front of your building while I was looking for a place to park. It made me suspicious.”
“That’s twice you’ve saved my life.”
He nodded, pretty sure it wouldn’t be the last time. He had mesmerized her on the dance floor earlier tonight, just long enough to take a little taste of her blood. In seven centuries, he had never tasted anything like it. Her life’s blood was thick and rich, but, more than that, it had gone through him like fire, enhancing his vampire senses, his preternatural powers. Had he been a young vampire, unable to control his hunger, she would likely be dead now. But he was ancient and well able to control his hunger and his desire. But that added kick in her blood . . . It had given him a mild high, the kind humans experienced after one too many drinks.
So who was Tessa Blackburn? And who the hell was Madame Murga? And why had some gypsy woman told a fledgling that Tessa’s blood would make him stronger? Had she actually foreseen such a thing? Or had she thrown out a name at random in a desperate attempt to save her own life? What if the rumor was true? And how the hell was he going to find out?
“Can I get you something?” Tessa asked. “A soda? A cup of coffee, perhaps?”
He glanced at the hollow of her throat, at the pulse throbbing there. The beating of her heart was strong and steady, the sound of the blood coursing through her veins a siren song that took all of his considerable willpower to resist now that he had tasted her. “No, thank you.”
“Something stronger? I think I have a bottle of Scotch someone left here a few months ago.” She frowned. “No, you’re a wine drinker, aren’t you? I have a bottle of merlot a coworker gave me for my birthday.”
“Sounds good.”
She went into the kitchen and rummaged through a cupboard until she found the bottle she was looking for. She pulled the cork, then poured a glass of wine for him, a soda for herself.
“I don’t know why people keep giving me wine when I don’t drink it,” she remarked, handing him the glass. “Anyway, my friend assured me that 2009 was a very good year.”
Andrei swirled the wine in the goblet, inhaling the bouquet. A good year indeed. Although it had been centuries since he had eaten solid food, he detected the rich aromas of chocolate and espresso. A sip carried the taste of dark cherries and plums.
“So, how is it?” Tessa asked, resuming her place on the love seat.
“Excellent.”
“I must be the unluckiest woman in the city,” Tessa remarked, curling one leg beneath her. “Or maybe the luckiest.”
“How so?”
“Well, I’ve been attacked by vampires twice in a matter of days. I’d call that unlucky. On the other hand, you were there to rescue me both times. I’d call that lucky. For me, anyway,” she said with a faint smile. “Maybe not so much for the ones who attacked me.”
“I’m glad I was here for you.”
The look in his eyes, the unmistakable hint of desire in his voice, sent a little thrill of pleasure down Tessa’s spine. But who could blame her for being flattered? He was drop-dead gorgeous, after all, and sexy as sin on a Saturday night.
Andrei smiled inwardly. He didn’t have to read her thoughts to know she found him desirable. It would be so easy to mesmerize her, to make love to her until dawn, and then wipe the memory from her mind. He had done so to countless women in the past, and while those encounters had been pleasurable, he much preferred his lovemaking to be spontaneous and his partners warm and willing.
“Do you really sell antiques?” Tessa asked.
“Indeed.”
She frowned. “There aren’t any antique stores in town.”