Even more surprising, he invited me to his parents’ house for lunch tomorrow, and I debated long and hard with myself about accepting. There’s a lot that could go wrong—namely they could find out I’m a vampire if I stuff up. But I said yes. So now that I’ve made my coffin, I have to lie in it. At least the pesky Bichon Frisé will be out of the way. Dogs tend to sense I’m undead and perceive me as a threat, which is unfortunate as I actually like dogs.
It’s also a pity that it’s lunch. If it were dinner, I could fly there like I did for our Friday date at The Brief Encounter. But I can’t exactly fly around in broad daylight.
***
The next day, just before noon, I step off the bus and start strolling to Damian’s parents’ house. They live in Blackford, a respectable suburb twenty minutes from the centre of town, with trees and box hedges lining their street. The neatly tended gardens suggest the residents are either retirees or family-oriented professionals. Crime doesn’t happen here, and if it does, it’s a rare occurrence. I’ve lived in Edinburgh for long enough now to avoid the hotspots, and this isn’t one of them.
Some of the flats we rented when we first moved here in the 1920s would have taken years off my life if I were alive in the normal sense. Thankfully, the shrewd investments we made in British companies after the Depression allowed us to purchase a New Town flat in the 1940s, and they’ve yielded tidy biannual dividends ever since.
However, we’ve had to sell up and move quite a few times over the years. When neighbours shoot you suspicious looks because you’re not ageing and rumours start, it’s time to scour the real estate ads.
Our latest acquisition in Ramsay Garden up by the castle was a steal as it needed renovating, but it was still expensive. Hester suggested buying something cheaper in the Highlands and feeding off animals. Sadie was keen to tryit, but I put my foot down. That lifestyle is too primitive for me. I’m a city girl.
Adjusting my sunglasses and fluffing my long dark hair apprehensively, I walk up to the front door and ring the bell. All my spidey senses are on high alert—not just at the thought of seeing Damian again, but because I’m also meeting his family. If Sadie knew I was doing this, she’d have kittens. But there’s something that’s driving me, and I’m not sure what it is.
Maybe it’s because you want a normal life, a little voice whispers in my head. Before I have time to question the validity of that, the door is flung open, and Damian is standing there in all his hot glory. His purple-streaked hair is floppy over his forehead rather than gelled back. The tight white shirt he’s wearing stretches across his broad chest and shoulders, its rolled-up sleeves revealing muscular forearms. Black fitted jeans remind me that he’s not lacking in the crotch department either. If I could blush, I’d be a red-faced wreck right now.
‘Hi, you made it. Come in!’ He sounds relieved, and I wonder if he was anxious that I wouldn’t show. I could read his thoughts to find out, but now that I know I can, I pull back and stop myself to respect his privacy.
At least he’s said the magic words ‘come in’, so I can step over the threshold. If he hadn’t, it would have beenawkward. A home is a personal space, so vampires need an invitation to enter. But we can access any public buildings without permission.
As I pass by, I get a good whiff of Damian’s aftershave mingled with the sweet scent of his blood. My fangs tingle and start extending.
Shit!I clamp my lips together hard so I don’t tackle him to the floor and devour him in his parents’ hallway. There’s a black-and-white photograph of the Royal Mile in a rainstorm on the wall, and I focus on it intently. Thankfully, the bloodlust gradually subsides.
‘Everyone’s in the lounge, so let’s go through,’ Damian says.
I still haven’t spoken, and he’s looking at me strangely probably because I’m spacing out. And I’m still wearing my oversized Prada sunglasses. Hastily, I take them off and poke them in my handbag. Although I can manage short bursts of direct daylight (up to an hour is fine), too much plays havoc with my retinas, and I have to spend several days in darkness to recover. Sunglasses help. Fortunately, Edinburgh’s short daylight hours in winter makes it the perfect gloomy city for our kind to inhabit; the long summer days cause sunburn, so we tend to hibernate then.
Chatter and muted laughter spill out from a lounge situated off the hallway, and I’m afraid that I’m going to sayor do something to give myself away. I need to stall.
‘Damian.’ I touch his shoulder lightly, and he turns to face me. ‘Thanks for the invite.’
‘You’re very welcome. I’m glad you’re here.’ There’s an intensity to his voice, and his eyes are burning into mine. So much for sunlight—he’sgoing to damage my retinas. I lick my lips, and his eyes follow the movement. Sensing his strong urge to kiss me, my stomach quivers.
‘Are you nervous?’ he asks softly.
‘A little,’ I admit. ‘I haven’t been to a Sunday lunch in ages.’
Damian slides his warm hand into my cold one and gives it a squeeze, and I relax slightly.
He leans forward and whispers in my ear, ‘It’s OK, they don’t bite’, making me huff out a sardonic laugh. ‘You have nothing to worry about. They’ll love you. And you look beautiful, by the way.’
Damian gazes at me fondly and gives my hand another squeeze, and without warning, I get a sudden flash of what he’s thinking. OK, he’s fully into me—as in he’s seeing me as potential girlfriend material. After. Only. One. Date.
A date that in his mind didn’t even involve anything physical. As far as he’s concerned, I wasn’t drooling over his scrumptious cock or biting into his muscular thigh. He likes what he sees (a quirky goth girl with a penchant for historyand Bloody Marys), and he’s glad I’m here with him. His master plan to take me back to his after lunch involves more than coffee and chatting too. Wonder of wonders!
I feel a bit bad for eavesdropping, but it’s exactly what I need to feel more confident. Standing tall, I lift my chin, and we walk hand in hand into the lounge to greet his parents, who have no inkling Damian just invited a vampire into their home.
Chapter 11
Florence | London, 1888
I surface from a deep sleep to discover my room is bathed in shadow. I’m lying fully clothed under the coverlet, and my head feels like it’s full of sawdust. All the fear and anxiety I had about living here must have taken its toll, and I dropped off out of exhaustion. But it’s strange that I can’t remember actually lying down.
Did I meet Charlie?
Or did Dr Dryden show me straight to my room?
