Dying to Date(5)

“Yeah, we tried, trust me, but he was pretty firm. Said he wanted to meet people who were interested in him and not his bloodline.”

“But…” Some of her joy drained away. “That’s a red flag, no?”

“Your call,” Abbey said. “He seemed nice enough to me.”

She tapped her foot. On the one hand, she really didn’t have many restrictions on who she’d date. On the other, the few she had were important.

“What are they odds that he’s one of the death races?”

“Slim, I’d say. He was pretty tanned for a vamp, and you touched him, right? Not a phantom.”

“Right,” she agreed. “I’m being silly. He could be a dancing bear, and a 90 percent rating would still warrant a meeting.”

“Good girl. Okay, let me run this through the proper channels, and I’ll try to set something up.”

“Great. Thanks, Abbey.”

“No problemo. Ciao.”

After ending the call, she dropped the cell back into her purse.

She lounged back in her chair as she scrolled through the profile. Most of his information was pretty basic. His occupation was listed as something in the financial world. He’d recently moved to the city, and he was allergic to shellfish. Nothing about him screamed serial killer. She was probably fine.

“As long as you’re not a demon,” she said, minimizing the screen. Or a necromancer. She nearly laughed at the thought.

Pushing from her seat, she crossed her spacious office to gaze out the large windows that lined the walls. Outside, the city glittered with a million artificial lights. How times had changed.

In the reflection of the window she saw her sleek, minimalistic office. Lucian had given her this small corner of the Redgrave Foundation building years ago to help her better manage her various organizations and responsibilities. Though she spent most of her nights in this room, it was anything but warm. Like most vampires, she kept her space free of personal mementoes. While she did have a few black-and-white pictures of her mother, they stayed in a keepsake box beneath her bed rather than on display. Vampires jealously guarded their pasts, especially the stories of their transformation. Information like that could expose a weakness, and that’s one thing her kind could not abide.

“Ms. Redgrave?”

She turned to see her administrative assistant poking her head through the glass door.

“Your eleven o’clock is here about the children’s aid fundraiser.”

“Show her in, Mary,” she replied, moving back toward her desk. Most of her nights were filled with such meetings. The reps for supernatural charities had no problem working with her late hours, and many of the human ones had grown accustomed to humoring her. With the money the Redgrave family donated, they’d meet her anywhere, anytime.

“Ms. Sherman,” she greeted her appointment as she strolled in. “Please be seated.”

Wondering about the mysterious Tarian Drake would have to wait. Tonight she had more pressing matters to attend to.

…

“Well, you people move fast, I’ll say that for you.”

A young, female voice chuckled into the phone. “Your profile has been extremely popular, Mr. Drake. However, since you’ve already met Ms. Redgrave in passing, I thought I’d offer to match you two up for your first assigned date.”

Tarian twirled his pen around his fingers, thinking of the tasty vampire.

Like most of her kind, she was stunning. It wasn’t a matter of the race turning only attractive mortals but rather an outcome of the lifestyle. Having been hidden from the sun for years, Melissa’s hair had darkened into a blood red he found oddly fascinating. Her skin was perfect alabaster, with not a single freckle to be found. Her body had been slender and lithe, also a side effect of her nature. Without a diet of high fat and sugary foods, vampires tended to lose weight in the months after their transformations and had no way of putting it back on. While he preferred his women with more curves, he couldn’t fault her for something beyond her control.

But it was those eyes, those piercing emerald-green eyes that had radiated intelligence and lust that had haunted his dreams last night.

“Yes,” he said. “I’d be inclined to see her.”

“Excellent.” The matchmaker sounded downright gleeful. “Would Friday work?”

“It should.”

“As a new member, I’ll expect you at seven-thirty to go over the rules of a Fated Match pairing. A car will take you to Celeste’s for your eight o’clock date.”

“I look forward to it,” he said, jotting down the appointment. “See you then.”