Dying to Date(8)

Tarian arched a brow but made no further comment. “So you’ve been on Fated Match pairings before?” he asked as he perused his options.

She shook her head. “I only recently joined.”

“Lucky me. I won’t have years of competition to outdo.”

She took a sip of water to hide her smile.

The waiter appeared at their side and took their orders. Melissa requested a salad for show and a glass of “fortified” wine. Though it appeared like a normal glass of red to an outside, human audience, in reality the liquid had the thicker consistency of blood.

“I must confess,” Tarian said when the waiter left. “This is my first date through the agency. I just spent the past thirty minutes being debriefed on the dos and don’ts of the practice.”

“Oh?” she asked. “What were some of the pitfalls to avoid?”

“It seemed that most of the rules revolved around minding my manners. Any sort of power or influence is banned on a first meeting. I’m to avoid controversial subjects like transformations, history in general, and interspecies politics.”

“Do they suggest we discuss the weather and comment on safe topics such as the best places to see in the city or the adorable habits of mortals?”

“That would ensure I don’t give any offense,” he agreed.

“I’m not easily offended,” she replied. “And Fated Match seems to have outlined the perfect recipe for a dull date.”

“We wouldn’t want that.” His gaze bored into hers, though the half smile never left his lips.

“No,” she purred. “We wouldn’t.”

The chatter around them fell away as she had eyes only for the man across from her. Again her body pulsed with anticipation. Had she been human, her heart would have been racing. Usually these dates were easy to guide. God knew she had more than enough practice at polite chitchat, but Tarian stole the words from her. She didn’t want to speak of nothing. Instead a desire to know him filled her. Never before had she reacted so strongly to a man, and she needed to figure out just what it was about him that drew her. Was it a 90 percent rating thing, or was it something uniquely Tarian that drew her in?

Breaking her gaze, he reached into his briefcase. “I was also informed Fated Match follows the old tradition of intention gifts.” He withdrew a small pink box and held it out to her.

Melissa accepted the package, which fit in the palm of her hand. She recognized the Fated Match logo stamped over the wrapping paper. In fact, she’d seen hundreds of identical boxes in Abbey’s office. It was an old tradition, to be sure, but in times gone by supernatural creatures used to give little tokens to signal they were pursuing each other with a more permanent relationship in mind. Today Fated Match offered a discount gift service to members. A yearly fee would entitle the bearer to a gift box per date, all the items carefully selected by the Fated Match team to pair appropriate objects with the proper species requirements.

Her first dates through the agency had given her trinkets like small knickknacks or bottles of hand lotion. It was the intention that was important, more than the actual gift.

“This is very sweet of you,” she said, pulling at the light-pink ribbon.

The sides of the box parted, and she wondered what lay within. Her money lay on the ever-popular scented candle.

But something shiny caught her eyes instead. Parting the folds of the box, she saw a beautiful silver bracelet nestled in the pink tissue paper.

“It’s lovely,” she breathed. This was no pre-selected Fated Match gift but one he had obviously thought of himself. Its beauty, however, didn’t change one very large complication. “I love it. Really I do. But I can’t keep it.”

No expression crossed his face. “Why?” he asked as he took a sip of his wine.

“Silver,” she explained. “It burns my kind. I always wanted silver jewelry, but it’s not possible for vampires.”

“No?” He took another sip. “Touch it.”

Melissa glanced up. “Silver feels like acid.”

“Trust me.”

Her eyes narrowed. What sort of game was this? It wouldn’t help his cause to burn her on a first date. “I don’t know you,” she said. “Trust would be extremely foolish.”

He held her gaze without comment. Melissa knew she should be handing the box back, but her fingers curled possessively around the paper. The urge to throw caution to the wind and trust him gripped her. As silly as it was, she wanted to take a chance on something new and different.

“I promise you won’t get hurt,” he assured her. “It was made for you.”