The Vampire's Mail Order Bride
He was utterly, hopelessly doomed.
Delaney suddenly appeared before him. Her lips were freshly slicked with gloss, and the scent of sugar teased at him. She grinned. “Miss me?”
“Desperately,” he replied, covering his wretched state with an answer she would think a joke. The joke was on him. The answer was the bald truth.
“Well, I’m back, so you can stop moping. Where are our drinks?”
She was the anti-Piper. A girl who colored outside the lines and made no apologies or pretense about who she was. A girl who didn’t care what was proper. A girl who didn’t wait to be kissed. He pointed lamely. “At the bar. I’m not actually sure they’ll still be there.”
“Didn’t you leave Pandora watching them?”
He frowned. That would have been a good idea. “No.”
Delaney made a face. “You don’t go out much, do you?”
He wanted her to have a good time. He needed her to. Needed her to fall in love with this town. That might be enough to make her stay. Another audacious thought. He waved down a passing server. “We need a table in the VIP section.”
The girl nodded. “Sure thing. That just requires the purchase of a bottle.”
He almost asked the girl if she knew who he was, but Insomnia wasn’t one of the Ellingham properties. “Fine. Bring us a bottle of that Mouton Rothschild I saw on the wine list.” If a fifteen-hundred-dollar bottle of wine didn’t buy them a place in the VIP room, nothing would.
“Excellent selection, sir. If you’ll just follow me.”
He took Delaney’s hand, happy to have her close again. “Will this make up for leaving the drinks behind?”
She laughed. “Uh, yes.”
The VIP section was a tier of private seating areas two steps up and roped off from the rest of the club on the left side of the building. The server got them settled and went off to get their wine.
He sat next to Delaney on the white leather sofa.
She smiled at him. “This is cozy.”
He reached over and pulled her in closer so that her backside was against his hip and they could both watch the crowd. “This is cozy.”
She snuggled against him. “Any cozier and we’d have to get a room.”
The thought filled him with as much wanton desire as her lush body pressed against his. He swept her hair off her shoulder and brushed a kiss on the curve of her neck, taking advantage of the closeness to inhale her perfume. That only made him want her more. How would she react if he scraped his fangs over her skin?
He kissed her again, but kept his fangs to himself.
She sucked in a breath only to let out a tiny mewl of pleasure on the exhale. She shifted and cut her eyes at him. “You’re…doing things to me.”
“Am I?” Not the things he wanted to be doing. He laughed softly, thrilled at the response he’d elicited from her. His hand stayed in her hair, running the silky strands through his fingers. “What do you think of the club?”
Her gaze turned to the crowd. The dance floor had started to fill up, and the music had taken on a more trance-like beat. “I like it. Reminds me a little of home. Not that I went out to clubs very much. And not that any of those places had this kind of crowd.”
“I’d lay good money some of them did.”
She smiled, her expression shifting into something coy. She stared at the small sliver of couch between them before looking up at him again through her lashes. “I believe you now. About who you really are.”
He nodded. “And you’re okay with that?”
She lifted her head to see him fully. “As strange as it is, yes.”
Relief flooded him. “Thank you.”
She canted her head. “For?”
“For not letting it frighten you away.”
“It never bothered any of your other girlfriends.”
She was so adorable. He snorted softly. “I never told any of them.”
“Oh.” Her smile faded. “I guess you wouldn’t have told me either then.”
“Except I thought you already knew. Well, Annabelle.”
She nodded, her eyes clear and guileless. A few long moments passed before she spoke again, this time staring into his eyes. “What’s happening between us?”
There it was. The question that had danced through his head all night. And as he thought the answer—we’re falling in love—the realization that he’d forgotten one very important fact slammed him in the chest. Chemistry or not, he could not risk another woman’s life in the turning. “We’re enjoying each other’s company. As friends do.”
A delicate frown bent her pretty mouth. “You mean, we’re just friends then?”
He nodded while the lie twisted his insides. “Just friends.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “So when you left our drinks at the bar and showed up about to take Nick’s head off, that was you just being friendly.”
Ah. She’d noticed that after all. “I—”
“Also, friendly kissing rarely involves tongue. Just saying.”
He hesitated. This was neither the time nor the place to tell her that his late wife’s death was his fault and the fear of that happening again meant he could never give his heart to another woman.
She spoke before he could. “Look, I don’t know what kind of woman you think I am, but I’m not the friends with benefits type. At all.”
That phrase was only vaguely familiar. He squinted at her. “Friends with benefits?”