A Fire in the Blood(6)

Tessa handed him several napkins, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment at acting like such a klutz in front of the man who had saved her life. “I’ll be glad to pay to have your trousers cleaned.”

“No need. But there is something you can do for me.”

“Of course. Anything.”

“Go out with me Friday night.”

She blinked at him. The man had saved her life and she was grateful, but he was a stranger. Granted, an extraordinarily handsome stranger, but still . . . “I’m sorry, but . . .”

He held up one hand, putting a stop to her protest. “I understand. We’ve only just met. Maybe we could double-date with your friend? Or I could meet you somewhere, say, at the movies?”

“I don’t know . . . I don’t think I want to be out after dark again anytime soon.”

He nodded. “I understand. Perhaps a matinee on Saturday? I’ll even spring for popcorn.”

“You’re very persistent.”

He smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “You have no idea.”

“All right. I’ll meet you at the Orpheum at two o’clock.” The movie should be over no later than four thirty, giving her plenty of time to get home before dark.

Pushing away from the table, he took her hand in his and kissed it. “Until then, dragostea mea.” With a slight bow, he turned and headed for the door.

Her skin felt hot, tingly, where his lips had touched her.

Watching him walk away, Tessa couldn’t help noticing that he looked just as hot from the back as he did from the front.

* * *

Hands shoved into his pockets, his thoughts turned inward, Andrei strolled slowly down the street, the distinctive scent of Tessa’s blood lingering in his nostrils. Never in his seven hundred years had he encountered anything like it. Had he been newly turned and out of control, he would likely have dragged her into the nearest alley and drained her dry. Hell, as old as he was, it was still a temptation.

The question was, why did her blood smell differently from that of other humans? Each blood type had its own unique taste and smell, altered only by the individual’s dining habits and addictions. But Tessa . . . her scent was like . . . like . . . Andrei shook his head. He had nothing to compare it with.

But one thing he did know: He had to taste her, at least once.

The thought of blood fired his hunger. Making an abrupt change in direction, he headed for his favorite goth hangout on the southern edge of the city.

The Crypt, built of gray stone inside and out, pandered to those who were fascinated by the undead or by death itself. Movie posters depicting Dracula in all his incarnations lined the walls. An antique, glass-sided hearse—complete with a stuffed horse and a mannequin attired in black burial garb—stood in one corner. A life-size statue of the infamous count occupied another. It was a favorite spot for tourists to pose for pictures.

Music assaulted his ears when he stepped into the club. That alone told any vampire who entered the place that the Crypt was owned by mortals. Andrei tuned out the noise as best he could as he made his way to the bar, where he ordered a glass of red wine.

He stood there, glass in hand, and let his vampire glamor seep into the room. In less than a minute, three women made their way to his side. He smiled inwardly as he looked them over. The redhead was tipsy. The brunette was high on some exotic drug. The blonde reminded him of Tessa. Gazing deep into her eyes, he took her by the hand and drew her behind the hearse.

He whispered in her ear, soft words to soothe her as he lowered his head and sank his fangs into her throat.





Chapter Three

Tessa stared at the clock on her office wall. Usually, her days flew by, but not this week. For the first time that she could remember, her workload was exceptionally light, giving her way too much time to think about Andrei Dinescu. He’d said he sold antiques. So how was it that an antiques dealer just happened to be passing by her condo on Saturday night at the very moment she was being attacked? And how was it that he just happened to have a sharp wooden stake handy?

She grinned inwardly. Maybe he was some kind of superhero—mild-mannered shop owner by day, audacious crime fighter by night.

Or maybe, as she had first suspected, he was a vampire slayer, although he didn’t look like any of the hunters she had seen in town.

She glanced at the clock again. Finally, time to call it a day. She planned to have dinner at Jileen’s after work, but that wasn’t the thought that had her smiling as she slipped on her coat, grabbed her handbag out of the bottom drawer of her desk, and headed for the elevator.

It was the thought of spending time with Andrei tomorrow afternoon.

* * *

Jileen was all smiles when she opened the door later that evening.