She looked back to the delicate chain. It was a piece of art with its intricate Celtic design. She’d love to own a piece of jewelry like it.
Before she could think through the logic of her actions, Melissa lifted a hand toward the box. She hesitated a moment when her fingers hung over the gleaming surface. With one finger, she gingerly stroked the metal.
Nothing happened.
“What?” she said, shock swirling through her.
“It’s spelled,” he explained as he reached over and picked up the bracelet. “Allow me?”
Holding out her hand, Melissa watched as he clasped the silver around her wrist.
“I haven’t owned silver in over a century,” she said, still unable to believe her skin wasn’t burning. “How did you do this?” If silver could be spelled this way, there was a fortune to be made in the jewelry market among her kind.
“Family secret,” he replied. “Do you like it?”
“I love it,” she said sincerely. “I think it might be the loveliest gift I’ve received in years.”
“Excellent.” He didn’t release her wrist but trailed his fingers over her skin instead. “My matchmaker told me first impressions were important.”
“You already made your first impression back at the agency,” she replied, allowing her fingers to play over his skin as well.
“True. Must have been good for you to agree to meet me.”
“We have a great match rating,” she reminded him.
“Algorithm,” he said. “I’m not sure how much stock I put in that.”
“You think we aren’t a good match?” She trailed her fingertips across his palm.
Heat flickered in his sapphire gaze. “On the contrary,” he murmured. “Rating or not, I would have called you. The computer system is helpful, I suppose, but it doesn’t replace seeing someone for the first time and knowing.”
“Knowing what?”
A smile flashed over his face. “That she should be yours.”
Desire shot through her. Oh yes, she knew exactly what he meant. Just as it had at Fated Match, proximity to this man filled her head with scandalous urges. Something about him resonated with her in a way no other man had accomplished in quite some time. If ever.
“Excuse me. Your meals,” the waiter interrupted, appearing at their side.
Tarian released her, and she reluctantly drew her hand back.
A garden salad, which actually looked quite good, was set before her. Melissa knew from experience, though, that the leaves would be utterly tasteless if she put one in her mouth.
Instead she reached for the red glass the waiter had brought.
The first sip was ambrosia. Her eyes closed in pleasure as the warmed liquid washed over her tongue. Though she loved Abbey dearly, the mortal had never really understood her craving for blood. No human could. After the transformation, a single drop tasted like the best feast one had ever eaten as a human. To her, truly good blood almost reminded her of her first taste of chocolate.
“Good?” Tarian asked as he cut into his meat.
“Superb. I don’t know what they infuse into the blood here, but maybe I should try hiring their cook.” Melissa glanced at the glass in her hand before looking back to her date. “Does this bother you?”
He arched a brow as he chewed. “What do you mean?”
“Some people don’t really approve of vampires eating in public.” She’d dated a werewolf once who had insisted she only ever feed alone behind closed doors. He’d been scandalized by the idea that she’d love to bite him.
Tarian, however, looked unfazed. “I would never presume to tell a vampire when and where to commit an act they need to survive.”
A sigh of relief escaped her. “Good to hear.”
“I’ve never been uncomfortable around the world of death,” he said, taking another bite. “You don’t need to worry about me.”
Except his words sparked a different kind of worry. “How comfortable are you, exactly?”
Another grin flashed her way. “Fishing for information, are we?”
“You have to admit, leaving your species section blank is going to raise some eyebrows.”
“I don’t want to be known just for my blood,” he replied. “Don’t you sometimes wish you could walk into a room and not be immediately recognized as Melissa Redgrave, vampire socialite?”
He had a point.
“Okay,” she replied, taking another sip. “Just promise me your race is nothing dangerous that I should know about.”
An emotion flashed across his eyes, but it was gone faster than she could track. “Promise,” he said with a smile. “You’re safe with me.”