Not caring if she came off as rude, she told him, “I really don’t think there’s anything to talk about. I’m not coming back.”
It unnerved her when Devon didn’t pout or throw a fit. Instead, he smiled at her. “Oh, I know. You’re too good for that place. I’ve been telling you for months.”
Wrong-footed, she was too busy trying to figure out a way to end the bizarre visit to stop him from shouldering past her. “Hey! I didn’t say you could come in,” she snapped, watching him stroll into her tiny studio like he owned the place.
He took a long look at her cheap stick-on wallpaper, thrifted drapes, and carefully DIY’d light fixtures. Her apartment was cozy and beautiful, full of rich reds and maroons and touches of burnished gold. She’d designed every inch to fit a loosefemme fatale’s boudoiraesthetic and she didn’t appreciate the way Devon looked at it like he’d just stepped in something foul.
The look of disgust only lasted a second, however. As soon as it appeared, it was replaced by something else. Somethinghungry.
Devon took a deep breath. Then another. And another.
Color rose high on his lean cheeks. Flushed and visibly excited, he turned on his heel to give her another one of those big, unsettling smiles. “I always knew you were special. You know, Duke told me I had to leave employees alone. Pissed me off, but thank fuck I listened to him! He’ll change his tune about how bad things went with the Bowans when I tell him what I’ve got.”
Dahlia didn’t dare move away from the door. “What are you talking about?”
He tilted his head toward her kitchenette. The pack of synth the hospital had sent her home with sat on the counter, missing one bottle, beside the vase of withered flowers he’d sent her.
“You enjoying your new diet along with those fangs?”
All the blood drained from her head in a rush. For just a moment she’d forgotten. She hadn’t even thought to try and cover her mouth.
Not that itmattered.What did Devon care if she was a vampire or not? She’d effectively been taken out of the dating pool, and she wouldn’t be welcome back at her position in The Lush.
She hadn’t done anything wrong, either. There was no shame in having some seriously bad luck.
And yet she felt it crawling up the back of her neck like cold, clammy fingers. The way he looked at her was far worse than how he’d done it before. He’d always objectified her, but now he looked at her like she was meat.
But that doesn’t make any sense. If anything, he should be pissed he can’t have me.
Suddenly aware of everything from her thin pajamas to her brand new pair of fangs, Dahlia pressed her back against the door and eyed Devon like the intruder he was.
“What do you want?” she demanded, annoyed that her voice came out a little high.
“I bet you’re starving. I know I am. You smell like the stuff dreams are made of, baby.” Devon shucked his oversized coat and tossed it on her bed, completely carefree. He wore a thin, v-neck t-shirt underneath it — and a gun.
She sucked in a sharp breath. The situation had been serious before, but the shoulder holster and its gaudy, too-big bolt gun made itveryserious.
Keeping her eyes on the gun, she muttered, “Devon, I don’t know what’s going on, but I need you to leave.”
Patting the gun like a prized dog, he assured her, “Ah, don’t worry about this. I only brought it in case anyone else shows up. Can’t have anyone horning in on my claim.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to ask if he even knew how to use a gun like that — a big dick handgun with a mean kick, as her cousins would say — but she’d seen how quickly Devon could explode in anger, so she held it in.
Instead, she calmly asked, “Your claim on what?”
Devon put his hands on his hips and flashed his fangs in an expression that was part smile and part sneer. “You.”
Dahlia’s mind was working overtime to catch up to what in the world was going on. Everything was a bunch of broken pieces in her head. She’d only just caught up to the fact that he knew she’d been turned when another realization hit her: he hadn’t been surprised.
Cold sweat dewed on her freshly cleaned skin.How?
The only person who knew was Cecilia, and her best friend would quit The Lush before she gave their bosses Dahlia’s personal information. The only possibility that made any sense to her was that the brothers had somehow put together what had happened that night on the roof, but the timing was deeply suspicious.
The doctor knew,she realised.But why would he tell my boss? And even if he did, why does it matter to them?
None of it made any sense, but most especially the way Devon looked at her as he prowled toward where she stood.
“I’m a vampire now,” she warned, though he obviously already knew.
