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“It’s simple,” she chirped, sweeping into the apartment while I struggled to recover from whatever spell she put on me.
She turned to face me, hands on her hips. “I’ll cover all of your debt, medical bills and whatever else I can throw money at. And in exchange, you move in with me and pretend to be my lover.”
I stared at her silently, my mouth hanging open like a startled codfish.
The woman’s smile faltered when the silence stretched on. She parted her lips to speak but I interrupted her, striding past her and into the kitchen. “Coffee.”
“Coffee?”
“Cup number five.”
Chapter 3
JORDAN
Ifollowedthewomaninto her kitchen, which was little more than a distasteful cluster of cupboards and a fridge that looked like it belonged in a landfill. I wrinkled my nose when she opened it and pulled out a bottle of milk, an unpleasant aroma emanating from within.
“Whatever you have in there, it’s long past the expiry date.”
The woman gave an absentmindedhmmin response and sloshed some water into a rusting kettle. We stood in silence while the water boiled on the stove, the woman keeping her eyes on the kettle, and me with my eyes on her.
Now I had a chance to properly study her features, no longer barred by the shadows of a dingy alleyway and a shifter hellbent on tearing me apart. She was even more beautiful than I remembered. Her blonde hair stopped just above her shoulders, dead-straight strands that fell like a curtain over her face as she looked away from me. A simple sailor-cut top revealed her sweeping neckline—graceful collarbones and pale, unblemished skin. Her Skechers were dirty and her mom-jeans ragged and faded with time, but she made it look intentional. Like a fashion trend.
After noting the rusted stain on her shirt I realized that these were the same clothes she had been wearing that night in the ally. It was my blood that stained her shirt. Considering the purple hue beneath her eyes, she clearly hadn’t gotten much rest since then. No doubt she had been terrified at what she had seen. She probably still was.
The subject of my contemplation looked up abruptly and I quickly looked away, but not before she caught me ogling. From the look on her face she must have assumed I was sizing her up for lunch, because she promptly arranged her hair to hide her neckline, like she was afraid I’d be tempted to have a taste.
I supposed it was only to be expected, she had watched me tear into that shifter’s jugular with no remorse, like something right out of a nature documentary.
Even so, it was sad to know she was afraid of me. I felt the same pull toward her as I had that night. It had taken every bit of self control not to go after her when she’d run out of the alleyway. I wanted to explain myself, to prove to her that I wasn’t the monster she thought I was. But I knew that wouldn’t have done any good. Instead, I had wallowed in the dark next to the decapitated shifter until Dylan arrived to pick me up.
Thankfully, my stoic comrade said nothing about my disheveled, bloodied appearance, merely looking me up and down with a raised eyebrow before stepping on the gas and taking me home. My coworkers at the office were not as tight-lipped about the ordeal as Dylan had been. Max and Hunter went out of their way to mock me for my embarrassing opening act, taunting me for spooking my mate before I even had the chance to introduce myself.
They upped the ante even more when I went out of my way to find out who she was. Between Max’s swooning and Hunter’s rolling eyes, I was lucky to have made it through my thorough investigation without a bruised ego. But I found her address, and I got her name. Sky.
“Do vampires drink coffee?”
The question snapped me out of my thoughts and I looked back at the woman. At Sky. “What?”
She shrugged without turning to face me and gestured over her shoulder. “You are a vampire, aren’t you?”
I smiled wearily, overly conscious of the withdrawn fangs in my mouth. “Whatever gave you that idea?”
“You scaled an apartment block in high heels, you tore out that monster’s throat the other night. You’re drop-dead gorgeous.” Still she refused to look at me, her teaspoon clinking around in the cup as she stirred her coffee.
I flushed slightly, my hand instinctively moving to smooth down my hair. “You think I’m pretty?”
She stiffened slightly before continuing her stirring. “So it’s a ‘no’ to the coffee?”
“Actually, coffee is one of the few things vampires can drink.” I shifted my weight, uncomfortable at approaching the topic with this woman.
There were rules in this city that everyone, including me, had to stick to. We were never to reveal ourselves to any human, not unless we planned to turn them. I wasn’t sure I wanted to do that to this woman.
“So you are a vampire?” She seemed to tense as she spoke, like she was waiting—hoping—that I would deny it.
I inhaled deeply, and then immediately regretted it when her scent filled my nose. I had no preference when it came to human blood. But hers was different. That sweet scent enveloped me, driving me to near madness where I stood.
I coughed then, any excuse to cover my mouth and nose. I tried to focus on the rich scent of coffee instead.
