When I finally emerged from the bathroom, the dining room table had been cleaned off. All the delicious food was gone. My stomach panged with remorse. Next time I needed to eat before flipping the fuck out, I scolded myself.

I found Logan sitting in the parlor, reading a Tolstoy novel. He looked up when I entered the room and I was surprised to see the concern written on his handsome face. “Are you all right?” he asked, as if he really cared.

I felt my cheeks heat. Forcing myself to step into the room, I took a seat on one of the upholstered armchairs. “I’m fine,” I said. “Sorry about that.” I stared down at my lap, wringing my hands together. This was beyond embarrassing.

“Is that something you do often?” he asked in a soft voice.

I scowled, digging my nails into my palms. “I told you,” I retorted. “I just cut myself. It’s no big deal.” I squirmed in my chair; if only I could sink into it and disappear.

His eyes zeroed in on me. “I see,” he said. But I could tell he knew I was lying. Which only made the whole thing more embarrassing.

“It makes me feel better, okay?” I spit out, surprising even myself. “But I don’t do it often. I mean, I used to do it a lot more. But I stopped. Well, I had stopped. But sometimes, when I get stressed…” I trailed off, my face on fire at this point.

For a moment, I stared down at my lap. Then, I slowly lifted my head, daring to meet Logan’s gaze. I expected disgust. Maybe pity. But to my surprise there was none. Which only served to make me more upset.

“This is my fault!” I blurted out. “I did it in the alleyway. That’s why the vampire attacked me. If I could have just had some goddamned self-control--”

“No.”

I startled. Surprised at the force behind the word. “But--”

He shook his head. “No. It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I should have never taken you there. I don’t know what I was thinking. It was just…” Now he was the one to look anguished. “I saw you in that bookstore. And I was so angry. To see you blithely taking people’s money. Exploiting our kind. I hated you for doing that. I wanted you to see that this wasn’t just a story to profit from. But real people’s lives.”

He rose to his feet, his hands clenching into fists. “But taking you there was wrong. I put you at risk. I had no right to do that.” He scowled, slamming his fist against the wall. “And then… Well, I certainly should not have danced with you.”

I bit my lower lip, my brain flooding back to that magical moment on the dance floor. Logan’s hands circling my waist. His lips pressing against my own. The heat burning between our two bodies. The way my stomach had flopped like a fish out of water at his touch. I waited for the panic to rise inside of me all over again. But to my surprise, instead it was the heat that returned, low in my belly. I blushed again, but this time for a very different reason.

“I didn’t mind the dancing,” I admitted quietly. “It was kind of nice actually.”

He gave a brittle laugh. “Then why did you run screaming for the exit?”

I snorted. “Let’s just say… I don’t get out much. And I certainly don’t date. Not even humans.”

He turned to face me. “Don’t tell me no one asks you out.”

“It’s not that.” I shook my head. “It’s…a long story.”

“And yet we’ve got nothing but time.”

My heart thudded in my chest. Suddenly I wanted to tell him. Which was insane, crazy. I never talked about what happened to me that night. Not even to Darla. And the fact that I wanted to tell him—a practical stranger and a monster to boot—was terrifying. And didn’t make any sense. I couldn’t trust this guy. Not with my lunch order, never mind my most painful secret. Maybe he was using his compulsion again—that vampire scent. Trying to get me to show weakness. So he could gain the upper hand.

Well, that wasn’t going to work on me. Not anymore.

“Enough about me. After all, aren’t I here to learn about you?” I asked slyly, deftly changing the subject. “That was the whole reason you wanted me to come with you in the first place, right? So I could learn how to write real vampires?”

For a moment, he said nothing. Just looked at me with those piercing eyes of his. As if he could see into my very soul. Then he chuckled softly. “I suppose it was,” he agreed. He settled back in his chair and set the book on a nearby table. “Very well, ask me what you will.”

“How did you become a vampire?” I asked, figuring it was as good as any as a starting question. “Were you born or made?”

“No one is born a vampire. Vampirism is a disease. Someone has to give it to you.”

“Who gave it to you? And how old are you anyway?”

“Thirty-five.”

I raised an eyebrow. He laughed.

“You were expecting me to say a thousand, yes? Some vampires are that old. Many actually. But I was turned seven years ago. When I was twenty-eight years old.” He smiled. “Thank God it wasn’t when I was still a teenager like the vampires you see in the movies.” He made a face. “Living through high school once was plenty, thank you very much.”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. “Why do they do that, anyway?” I asked. “The whole vampire in high school thing? I mean, they could be out solving crimes or curing cancer or something. There has to be a better use of their eternal life than eternal high school.”

“I don’t think any real vampires attend high school,” he assured me. Then his eyes twinkled. “And I’ve never seen any of them sparkle.”

“Aw. That’s actually kind of disappointing.”

It was only then that I realized he hadn’t answered the first part of my question. Who gave him vampirism? Maybe it was a sensitive subject. I decided not to bring it up again. At least for now.

“So if you’re just a vampire newb, how come you were dressed like you stepped right off the pages of a Regency romance novel back at the bookstore?” I asked curiously. “You know, when you first came to my signing? Is that a vampire fashion thing? Like, for us, the nineties are back. For you it’s the 1890s?”

He laughed. “I’d nearly forgotten about that. No. It’s not a vampire thing. Definitely not. In fact, the last thing vampires want to do is stand out. To draw attention to themselves. Plus, those old fashioned clothes are so damn itchy.” He grinned. “I was on my way to a birthday masquerade, as a matter of fact, and had only stopped by the bookstore to get a present for the birthday boy. You saw me in full on Mr. Darcy mode.”

I nodded appreciatively. “Well, it was a good look on you,” I teased. “Everyone thought you were my vampire hero.”

He laughed, placing a hand to his chest. “Did you ever know that you’re my hero?” he started singing, channeling his inner Bette Midler. “And everything I would like to be!”

I groaned, grabbing a nearby pillow and throwing it in his direction. He caught it and gave me a wicked grin. “See? Nineties kid. Through and through. Also, karaoke master.”

I rolled my eyes. “Anyway,” I said. “Back to our Q and A. So what parts of the vampire mythos did Hollywood get right then?”

Logan seemed to consider this for a moment. “Most of it isn’t far off,” he said after a pause. “Holy water, churches, stakes—though they don’t have to be made of wood to work. Cutting off a vampire’s head also does the job. Though,” he added. “I suppose cutting off anything’s head would do the trick.”

“Except zombies,” I pointed out.

He grinned. “You don’t seriously believe in zombies, do you?”

“Dude, after today I’m ready to believe in the Easter Bunny.”

“Touché.” He shifted in his seat. “In any case, as I mentioned before, we don’t drink people dry. We have contracted blood donors. And we don’t just randomly turn people into vampires either. We have a very specific vampire certification program each person has to go through before they are approved to become one of us.”

“You have a vampire in training program?”

“Don’t laugh! Remember, vampires live forever. We have to make sure each person is someone we can deal with for eternity.”

“Hm. Good point.” I thought about some of the people I’d met over the years who I definitely didn’t want to see achieve eternal life. Glad these vampires were picky.

“They’re also given a partner,” he added. “They call it a Blood Mate. They’re the ones who turn the new vampires by sharing their blood and drinking some of their partner’s. They bond together and spend eternity by one another’s side.” He shrugged. “Sort of like soul mates, but without actual souls.”

“Do you have a blood mate?” I couldn’t help but blurt out. Then I blushed. Was that like asking a vampire if he had a girlfriend?

He stared down at the ground and for a moment I thought he wouldn’t answer. But finally he looked up. “I did,” he said. “But she killed herself.”

I stared at him. “What?”

“She was a thousand years old. She was sick of living, I guess. Bored of eternal life.” He gave me a rueful look. “That’s the number one killer of vampires, you know. Boredom. The world changing all around them, while they stay the same.” He paused, then added, “That’s why I took such objection to your character Jonathan. He’s been around for two thousand years, right?”

“Close to that.”

“And yet he has such a vibrant love for life. Such passion for Maisie. I don’t know if I buy that.”

“It’s just a book. It’s not supposed to be real.”

He sighed loudly. “I know, I know. And I already apologized. I’ll totally delete that one-star review.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah. So you keep saying.”

“How did you become a vampire writer anyway?” he asked. “Did you actually grow up liking them? Or was it just because of that dream you mentioned?”

“A little of both,” I admitted. “My Mom was a total goth girl and was always taking me to vampire movies and such. But that dream! I mean it was like Jonathan literally came to me. Fully formed. As if he were real and asked me to write his story.”

“So you are legit Interview with a Vampire,” Logan teased.

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, yeah.” I shook my head. “Anyway, I started writing. And I put the first book up online to see how it would do. I expected to make like ten bucks. Instead, I made close to ten million.”

Logan gave a low whistle. “People really want to read about vampires that badly?”

“Evidently so. My readers are truly--”

But I never got a chance to finish the sentence. A crash interrupted me, followed by the sound of shattering glass. I glanced over at Logan, my heart in my throat. He was already on his feet. A moment later an alarm began to wail.

“They must have found us somehow,” he said in a low voice. “We need to get out of here. Now.”