Which was where we’d met. No one danced in thermals, not even in icy Port Cavell.
I started walking toward the register, and he followed. “How come it doesn’t drive you mad?” The only other shapeshifter I’d had close contact with had been a patient at Y4, and they’d been driven insane after touching too many vampires. It’d overloaded whatever it was inside of them that kept them them … and what’d been left hadn’t been pretty.
“I maintain a smug sense of superiority, no matter what form I am in. It helps.” He offered me his elbow. “Want me to walk you to your car?”
I’d slept with him twice, when he’d been hot, olive-skinned, and vaguely British—and here he was looking like somebody’s dad, maybe even somebody’s grandpa. He was the opposite of sexy—doughy, and that shirt, oh, that shirt. I wasn’t sure which of them was harder to deny. Sexy Asher was wicked and tempting. This Asher was more likely to be disappointed in me if I didn’t take him up on his offer, which might be worse.
“Sure.”
“Want me to get that for you?” he pressed, reaching for the couch cover and his wallet at the same time.
“No.”
“You sure?” he said looking down at me. His eyes seemed his own, no matter what the rest of him looked like. He clearly remembered the cheap apartment complex where I lived.
I still had a full jar of peanut butter and jelly at home, half a loaf of bread, and my pride. “Yeah, I’m sure. Thanks.”
* * *
Asher walked me to my car, and there were no angry vampires in sight. I stared at my shoes, concentrating on not slipping on patches of ice, and contemplated my chances of survival. It wasn’t till I was almost at my car that I realized how tense Asher was—mostly by the fact that he wasn’t being glib.
“You really think I’m in danger, don’t you?” I asked him.
The expression on his current face said it all. “If you don’t, you’re not taking things seriously enough, Edie.”
“No, I am. I’m just being quiet for once.” My cold fingers fumbled through my keys.
“Where’s your zombie boyfriend when you need him, then?”
I looked at the ground and frowned. “He said he had to go.”
“Spend holidays with his zombie family?” Asher guessed, the note of sarcasm in his voice unmistakable. “Is he going to come back soon? You shouldn’t really be alone—”
“I don’t know. He didn’t say.” Without meeting his eyes, I finally found my car key and unlocked my door.
“What? Edie—”
“He said he had to leave town, okay? He didn’t make any promises as to when he’d be back. Or if he’d be back. At all.” I shook my head, remembering the night when he’d left me—it still hurt. “Too many people saw him save me. So he had to go.”
Asher’s voice was soft. “That’s not right, Edie. You’re not the kind of girl—”
“How can I get Dren off my back?” I interrupted. I didn’t want to pull off any more scabs just now.
This version of Asher made a disappointed face at my predicament, then answered me. “You’ll have to find something that Dren really wants and give it to him.”
Like my life, or someone else’s. “There’s just no way.”
“You could get the Shadows involved again—”
I shook my head. “I hate those things.”
Asher shrugged. “All right. I’d offer you my people’s protection, but I think I know how you feel about that already. Can’t you just get that killer vampire friend of yours to take care of him?” He held his hand low to indicate how tall Anna used to be.
“I suppose I could. Maybe. Hey, have you ever heard of the phrase Ambassador of the Sun?”
“What is that, a shitty metal band?”
I snorted. “No. My vampire friend has her vampire debutante ball soon. She’d like me to have a position in her court. I wasn’t going to take it seriously, but—”
“If it’ll get Dren off your back.” Asher finished my thought as I ducked into my car. “I’ve never heard of it before, but I’ll look into it and get back to you.”
“Thanks, Asher.”
He performed a hand-twirling bow. “What kind of Grinch would I be if I didn’t escort lovely ladies safely to their cars?”
I gave him a wan smile and closed the door.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Most roads were empty, so hopefully the hospital would be slow. I’d noticed before my transfer to Y4 that on holidays our workloads seemed to go down. Even truly sick people would rather be at home than here.