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“Is that you, V?”
I made a sound in my throat before catching myself.
How did I miss the sound of a car parking or approaching footsteps?
Amateur move.
I did a full spin and looked up at the noticeably beautiful man standing behind me. Then my eyes tracked back to where the vampire had been only seconds before, but to my dismay, the entire area was free of any trace of the imposter Lestat.
Fuck my life.
“What are you even doing out here?” he pried.
I stood up and slipped the Holy Water coated dagger into its sheathe, out of sight of normal boy eyes. “Just...you know, admiring this bush here.”
“The bush?”
“It’s a great bush.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Sure...” His piercing dark eyes stayed with me a second before stealing a look at the empty farm house. “Were you waiting for someone?”
I balked openly. “Me? No.”Think fast.“I heard stories.”
“About the bush?”
Damn this persistent, beautiful idiot. If not for being entirely bogged down by the vampire who escaped and its prey likely already killed and discarded, I would’ve taken a minute to admire this stunning six-foot-three upperclassman I’d spent years not-so-secretly in love with.
“No, about the ghosts...because...”
“Oh, that old story.” He seemed to pick up on my poor excuse for an answer and nodded the direction of the farm house. “Want company?”
YES!
“No,” I answered breathlessly, damning my responsibilities. “I’ve already done all of that investigation stuff and now I’m leaving.”
“After admiring this bush, you mean?” he teased.
Oh, he was funny. And adorable. And beautiful. And so, so forbidden.
“Yeah...right.” I agreed, patting the bush awkwardly. “Good bush.”
Covering his mouth, my new friend’s dark complexion caught the moonlight and gave off a golden hue before his obsidian eyes landed on me with interest. “You’re always so funny, V.”
He called me V, and I was living for it. I hated my old-woman name Vivienne, so everyone just called me V. But I could count on one hand how many times I’d spoken to Nigel. We’d never gotten to the nickname part of the relationship.
We’re practically married already.
“That’s me, the funny one,” I offered lamely, losing track of the whole reason I was trying to hurry the gorgeous man along. “And...what about you?”
“What about me, what?”
“Did you also come out here to admire this bush, or are you meeting someone?” I pried shamelessly.
Last I heard, he was single. He had a girlfriend for nearly two years, but they broke up last year and I’d been a hopeful, invisible admirer ever since. Not that I was in any position to date, or even dream of dating someone like Nigel. Being a Hunter meant that I spent a fair amount of time nearly dying. And when I wasn’t nearly dying, I was training to try to avoid dying and nearly dying doing it. It really was a vicious cycle; one that didn’t leave room for a boyfriend.
“Can I be honest?”
