“I don’t have to be. Though I did take some classes in college.” She nodded at his arms, still crossed in front of him. “You keep crossing your body with your arms, like you’re trying to force me to keep my distance. Which, by the way, is completely uncalled for, since it’s you who keeps coming at me.”
“I can’t seem to help it,” he told her honestly. Then he nodded at her own arms, crossed tightly across her body. “And it appears I’m not the only one.”
That shut her up fast, but only for a few seconds. “Why did you save me, Kohl?”
There was something in her tone, something he didn’t like hearing. Like she almost wished he hadn’t bothered. “I don’t know, but I’m glad I did.”
Again with the honesty. Following her lead from before, he left one arm across his chest and reached out with the other to touch the corner of her mouth with his fingertips. He ran his thumb over her lower lip. It was full and soft. Softer than he’d imagined.
He had the sudden urge to take it between his teeth.
Her heart stuttered at his touch, then began to race, pounding loudly in his ears. The beast stirred within him again, and he told himself he needed to stop…
Lights swung across them as the cab pulled up and parked at the end of the building. Kohl dropped his arm and stepped back. Without taking his eyes from her face, he rapped on the back door. “Cab’s here.”
“Kohl—” Devon reached for him, eyes wide with panic.
“It’s okay,” he told her. “It’ll be okay. Goodbye, Devon.” As Andrew came out, he turned away and stepped inside, pulling the door shut firmly behind him.
Alone, he braced his back against the cold metal and concentrated on breathing.
Fuck.
Chapter 2
Devon woke the next morning to the loud patter of a surprise Texas hailstorm hitting the roof. It matched the pounding in her head. With a groan, she sat up and pressed the heels of her hands against her temples. Her heart was racing. The storm must have startled her from sleep.
What the hell had been in those drinks last night?
She remembered going out with no specific destination in mind. Just somewhere she could get lost in the music and the darkness and forget her life. Be another nameless person in the crowd. Before she knew it, she’d found herself in front of The Caves. “Exclusive” wasn’t quite the word to describe that place. More like “you were never here or we’ll have to kill you” was more apt. The owners were a secretive bunch, and she couldn’t say she blamed them.
She’d be secretive, too, if the majority of the human race didn’t know she existed. And if it weren’t for her old job, she’d never know about them, either.
Getting in had been easier than she’d thought it would be. While she’d been sitting in her car, debating whether or not to try her charms on the bouncer—more out of morbid curiosity than anything else—a pickup truck with oversized tires and a pair of balls hanging from its hitch had pulled up alongside her and parked, and a typical Texas good ole’ boy had climbed out. With a glance in her direction, he’d plopped his hat on his head and hitched up his Wranglers. Devon had hesitated only for a second before she’d jumped out and caught up to his bowlegged stride, locking her car behind her with the remote. Linking her arm through his, all it took was a smile and a promise for a dance, and she was admitted into the club as his guest.
Once inside, she looked around and couldn’t help thinking she fit right in with that crowd. All people like her, dressed in black or similar dark colors to blend in with the shadows, hiding from the rest of the world.
Her cowboy, on the other hand, with his ten-gallon hat, orange patterned shirt, and pointy-toed boots, stuck out like a sore thumb. But that didn’t deter him from bellying up to the bar like he owned the place. Devon followed him, ordering a drink from the bartender.
There was only one time she thought they weren’t going to allow her to stay, and that was when her date’s “friend” showed up. But after the vampire ran his eyes up and down her body in a rather cold, blatant way, causing shivers to chase each other across her skin, he shrugged and told her to have a good time. Then he threw his arm around his cowboy and pulled him away to a dark corner. She didn’t see either of them for the rest of the night, but she didn’t feel there was cause for concern. There hadn’t been a vampire blamed death recorded for many years.
Besides, she had her own problems.
After they’d left, she remembered dancing for a bit, then going to the bar to order another drink. There was another bartender there helping the first one. One with sweet brown eyes and strong, tattooed forearms. Butterflies had erupted in her stomach when he’d focused all that charisma on her. Just thinking about it now, she had to press her palm to her belly to calm them. He’d known right away who she was. And had given her a drink for free. Not because he’d wanted to fuck her—which would have been her preferred reason, vampire or not—but because he’d pitied her.
God, even the undead felt sorry for her.
Devon barked out an ugly laugh and immediately clamped her palms over her temples to hold her brains in. When she was relatively certain they weren’t going to explode from her eye sockets, she rose carefully from her bed, reached over, and closed the blinds that covered her window. She didn’t even have to strain herself to get to them. She could cross the entire width of her room in seven steps or less. As a matter of fact, she could walk the length of her entire apartment in about twenty steps. But she didn’t mind. It was cozy. It had a great view of downtown Austin. And more importantly, the space was small enough that it made her feel safe.
She came out of the bathroom showered, with her unruly hair pulled back from her face, and dressed in her least-ragged yoga pants and a hoodie, feeling somewhat more human. But when she opened the fridge, she groaned again. There was nothing in there but a few eggs, a near empty jar of salsa, and a container of butter. Her hangover definitely needed something more to soak up the alcohol.
Shutting the door—gently, so as not to disturb her fragile head before the Advil kicked in—she left the refuge of her apartment and knocked on the door across the hall, wincing at the noise.
Frank, her neighbor and only friend in this place, opened it wearing a huge smile on his entirely too handsome face, Superman boxer briefs, and nothing else. He frequently answered his door in this manner of dress—or undress as the case may be—but Devon couldn’t complain. The guy was in great shape.
“You look terrible.” The smile never slipped as he issued his greeting, which also ranged in the “things you never expected” category. At least for those who didn’t know him.
She grinned back. “Nothing a tortilla or two won’t fix.”
