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We rested for a few minutes, chatting about nothing in particular, when Catcher took the drink from Mallory's hand, deposited it on the table, and led her back to the dance floor. When she turned back to me, her face radiating shock that he'd had the nerve to expect her to follow without a fuss, I winked back.
I rolled the ice around in my drink, watching Mallory blush as Catcher swayed against her, when a voice next to me suddenly asked, "Good song, don't you think?"
I looked over, surprised to find a smiling man with his arm stretched along the booth behind me. His hair was cropped, vaguely wavy, and dark brown, framing cut cheekbones, a cleft chin, and a strong jaw dotted with a day's worth of stubble.
But for all that he was handsome, it was the eyes that pulled me in, that focused the attention. That accelerated the pulse. His were dark, and set beneath long, dark eyebrows. He peered at me beneath long, black lashes, his gaze seductively masked. The lashes rose, fell, rose again.
Sexy Eyes wore a fitted black leather jacket - trim lines, Mandarin collar, very alt-rock - over a black shirt that snugged his lean torso. Around one wrist was a watch with a wide leather wrap-band. Altogether, the look was urban, rebellious, dangerous, and damn effective on a vampire. And he was definitely a vampire.
"It's a great song," I answered, having finished my look-see, and inclined my head toward the dance floor. "And the kids seem to like it."
He nodded. "So they do. But you aren't dancing."
"I'm taking a breather. I was out there for nearly an hour," I told him, practically yelling to ensure that he could hear me over the pulsating music.
"Oh? Like dancing, do you?"
"I get around." Realizing how that sounded, I waved my hands. "That's not what I meant. I just mean I like to dance."
He laughed and settled a bottle of beer on the table. "I was going to give you the benefit of the doubt," he said, smiling softly and giving me a full-on look at his eyes. They weren't brown, as I'd first thought, but a kind of mottled navy blue.
And I was struck by the thought that when he finally kissed me, they would flash and deepen, silver pulsing at the edges -
Wait. When he finally kissed me? Where in God's name had that come from?
I narrowed my gaze at him, guessing the source of the trickery. "Did you just try to glamour me?"
"Why do you ask?" His expression was innocent. Too innocent, but a corner of my mouth twitched anyway.
"Because I'm not interested in finding out what color your eyes turn when you kiss."
He grinned wickedly. "So it's the condition of, what, my mouth that's on your mind?"
I rolled my eyes dramatically, and he laughed and tipped back his beer, taking a swallow. "You're wounding my ego, you know."
I gave his body, at least the portion that wasn't hidden under the table, a quick appraisal. "I doubt that," I told him, and took a heartening sip of my own cocktail. A quick glance around the club confirmed the suspicion, revealing more than a few women - and a handful of men - whose eyes were glued to the man beside me. Given the intensity of their gazes - and my penchant for stepping on toes - I wondered if he was some kind of vampire celebrity I was supposed to know about. Afraid of being gauche again, I didn't want to come right out and ask, so I decided to carefully steer my way toward an introduction. "You come here a lot?"
He wet his lips and looked away briefly, then back at me, grinning wildly like he knew a special secret. "I'm here quite a bit. I don't remember seeing you before."
"It's my first time," I admitted. I inclined my head toward Mallory and Catcher, who swayed at the edge of the crowd, their bodies mashed together from the waist down, their hands at each other's hips. Quick work, I thought, grinning at Mallory when she caught my eye.
"I'm here with friends," I told him.
"You're new - newly made, I mean."
"Four days. And you?"
"It's impolite to ask someone his age."
I laughed. "You just did!"
"Ah, but this is my place." That explained the secret smile, but since I knew nothing about the club, it didn't give me any helpful information about who he was.
"Can I get you a drink?"
I held up the half-full cocktail in my hand. "I'm good. Thanks, though."
He nodded and sipped his own beer. "How are you finding vampiredom?"
"If it were a house," I answered after some serious consideration, "I'd call it a fixer- upper."
He snorted, then covered his nose with the back of his hand while sliding me an amused glance. It made me smile to think that even cute vampire boys got beer up their noses. "Well said."
I grinned at him. "We do try. How do you find vampiredom?"
He crossed his arms, cradling the beer against his chest, and gave me a once-over. "The perks are nice."
"Oh, come on. Surely you've got better lines than that."
He looked heartbroken. "I'm pulling out all my best material."
"Then I'd hate to see the bottom of that barrel."
He put a hand on my shoulder and moved closer, the motion sending little sparks across my skin, then panned an outstretched hand in front of us. "Imagine a landscape of nothing but astrology references and naughty limericks. That's what you're going to reduce me to."
I covered my heart in mock sympathy. "I'd say that I'm sorry to hear that, but mostly I'm sorry for the women who have to listen to it."
"You're killing me here."
"Oh, don't blame this on me," I said on a laugh. "It's the material that needs work."
"Oh, I blame you," he said solemnly. "I'm going to die a lonely man - "
"You're immortal."
"I'm going to live a long, lonely life," he quickly corrected, slouching down a little in the booth, "because you're being overly critical about my pickup lines."
I patted his arm, the muscle firm beneath my hand, and felt a sympathetic blush cross my cheeks. "Look," I told him. "You're a nice-looking guy." Under. Statement. "I doubt you need pickup lines. There's probably a desperate woman out there just waiting for you to come along."
He mimicked pulling a knife out of his chest. "Nice-looking? Nice?! That's the kiss of death. And you think a desperate woman is the best I can do?" He made a frustrated sound, the effect of which was dampened by the impish tilt of his mouth. Putting the bottle back on the table, he stood up. I thought I'd managed to scare him away, until he held out a hand. I raised questioning brows.
