“I am afraid that is not possible now that I know the truth!”
“What, that I can’t speak French? I’m sorry, I should have told you sooner, but at first I kind of nodded when you used it and you took it as understanding, and then I felt totally stupid telling you the truth.”
That sounded very much like the thought process he would follow. While she did appreciate his honesty—although it was rather late—that sort of behavior was at the crux of the problem, and the reason why she was feeling like she wanted to run away and hide in the forest for a decade. He spoke before he thought. He acted impulsively.
Now that attitude had the entire race of vampires at risk.
So she told him that. “It’s not about speaking French, though it doesn’t thrill me that you would lie about something so silly and unimportant.” She glanced around, checking to see if anyone was in hearing distance. “This is about the fact that Benny seems to think we’re vampires.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes and he rubbed his jaw, the handcuffs a vivid reminder of the last eight hours and all the ways she had compromised herself. She had allowed him entrance to his apartment. She had slept with a man on the Dead List. She had compromised the investigation. And she had lost her panties. All while being ridiculous enough to think that she could fall in love with such a man, given a little time and a few more orgasms.
Enough. She was putting an end to this madness right here and now.
“Oh. Well, that’s just because of the night of my wake Stella and Wyatt and the rest of the band were drugged, and Stella got stuck in bat form and she needed some blood to morph back and Benny was passed out in the bathtub, so she just took a nip, just enough to change back. I don’t think he really believes we’re vampires though.”
“Of course he does!” she hissed, aware of a mime crossing the street. He may not speak, but he could certainly hear. “He was discussing it as if it were of no consequence. As pure fact. You know as well as I do that live feeding is not permitted.”
“It’s not illegal. We don’t have a government. It’s just not recommended. But in this case it was necessary.” He looked stubborn. Mystified. Maybe even slightly annoyed with her stance. “It’s no big deal.”
“No big deal? It puts every one of us in jeopardy. We could be killed.”
“You keep saying that, yet I don’t see anyone wanting to kill us.” Johnny held his arms up and out. “I’m still alive, despite what the list says, and Benny wouldn’t slap a serial killer. He is not going to hurt us in any way, nor could he hurt us.” Johnny grinned. “Have you noticed we’re stronger than them?”
A profound sense of disappointment fell over Lizette. If he mocked the VA, in essence, he mocked her. “I am sorry, I cannot be so cavalier about it. I have seen what can happen to a vampire, despite his strength.” No one should have to suffer what her lover had suffered before she had finally managed to sneak in and end his life. She would not watch another man she cared about endure such pain.
Johnny cupped her cheeks. “I think you’re overreacting,” he said softly. “Shit happens. Benny and maybe a few others know, but nobody believes fringe-society gossip. Good people though they may be, no one takes a stripper seriously. It’s the way it is. And this is a live-and-let-live kind of town. No one gets in your business. So we’re perfectly safe, I promise.”
“Hey!” The sudden sharp voice startled Lizette and she glanced to the left. A man was running toward them. Not a man. A vampire. She recognized her kind and his lack of a blood scent.
“Raven?” Johnny asked. “What does he want?”
Lizette didn’t stick around to find out. She started walking.
“I’m going to kill you, Malone! I’m going to cut your fucking head off and roll it from Canal to Frenchmen, hitting every rock I can along the way.”
That did not sound promising.
Especially when Johnny suddenly grabbed her hand and told her, “Run!”
As she ran, grateful she’d lost her Louboutins after all, she felt remorse for flipping Johnny off. That had been childish. Now she was going to die, and she would not have even told him how she felt about him. Other than the fact that he annoyed her, that is.
“I’m sorry,” she said, lungs bursting.
“For what?” Johnny took a sharp right and she stumbled, trying to keep up with him.
“For giving you my middle finger. That was rude.”
“No problem. I’m sorry I’m such an idiot and I pissed you off.” Johnny stopped at a wall and cupped his hands. “Jump up and over.”