“Not interested,” I said without looking.
A brief pause as confusion flavored the air between us. She asked, “Oh? Why such a rush?”
I laughed despite myself.Not accustomed to food that doesn’t acknowledge you? I turned to tell her off, then sucked in a breath.
Her hair was as colorless as mine, shimmering in the fading sun, strands so fine they drank light and refracted it back like spider silk. Skin as dark as polished obsidian, dark blue eyes fringed with white lashes long enough to cast shadows across sharp cheekbones. She wore a sleeveless white one-piece with matching slacks and heels. Every line of her face was symmetrical, perfected,practiced.
Her lack of heartbeat and abundance of onlookers confirmed what I’d already known. A woman that gorgeous wouldn’t be able to walk without a gaggle of those enthralled by her beauty, those who would be desperate just to stand near her. She wore a nimbus of hypnotic power that tugged and pulled any who saw her.
Vampyre.
That woman was dangerous in the same way a calm sea or murky river was dangerous. It may appear serene on the surface, but death lurked within those unseen depths.
Her cold grip tightened on my arm, and the air around us pulsed faintly.Allure. I’d felt it before, in a wasteland brothel right before a dazed girl’s throat had been opened like a second smile.
She gave my arm a slight squeeze as she asked, “Do you want to have some fun with me?” Her voice scratched beneath my skin, trying to hook into my will and drag it to some dark place I would never return from.
Disbelief furrowed my brow as I pried her freezing fingers free from my arm with calm precision. I held her hand—a hand so cold it was nearly painful—and said, “I regret to inform you, but I have no wish to participate. . . vampyress.”
The words slipped out like muscle memory. Too old a habit and too deeply ingrained, burned into my mind from my first life.
Her eyes widened, her perfect composure shattering. “Ce surpriza placuta,” she murmured. Once she saw my confusion, she translated, “What a pleasant surprise.”
That accent. . . is that Eastern European? Or Romanian?I knew it had to be an old bloodline, for sure.
She tilted her head with a look of curiosity on her face as she stepped closer. “How could you tell? I thought I had my mannerisms perfected.”
I let our hands fall, pulling them free in the process. “I have no interest in answering.”
“But you aremuritor,” she said as she studied me with blue eyes as dark as an abyssal sea. Her perfume clashed with the raw scent of the summer honeysuckle growing on the school’s stone walls.
She’d called memuritor. Mortal. A respectful term, as far as most supernaturals were concerned. That helped me narrow her origins down to Romania. Yet despite her beauty, she was a monster all the same. It would be best to tread carefully.
She was near enough that I felt the coolness of her body as we stood in the humid heat of the city. My guess was that she hadn’t fed in days. Her next meal would bring back the warmth she needed to stay hidden amongst the living.
In that sultry voice, she asked, “Have I turned you mute, perhaps? Has my glamour stupefied you?”
I arched a brow and crossed my arms. “Hardly. I was waiting for you to slip and give me something to work with.” So much for treading carefully.
Vampyre clans were insufferably proud of their heritage, and often boasted their lineage like banners into battle. I had assumed she would have immediately sneered, looking down on me as she recited her great-great-great-grandfather’s connection to Dracula, or whatever bloodsucker they had claim to.
“Is that so?” She assessed me, her ravenous gaze narrowing. A low chuckle escaped her, musical and amiable.
I knew the tricks the undead played. . . practiced seduction wrapped in false warmth. Yet, from how she stared at me, I felt her interest was genuine. She seemed more amused than angry that I’d seen her for what she was. I realized she was enjoying this private bit of exhibitionism as her eyes flashed once more, swirling colors of navy and violet.
“T’fu,” I said and waved my hand dismissively. “I told you once already that I am not interested.”
Despite my disgusted gesture, she seemed even more intrigued. “You have a strong will,muritor.” She stepped closer and placed her hand back on my arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Anda strong body it seems.”
What part of no did she misunderstand?
I weighed my next words carefully, tongue pressing against teeth. Depending on how the next few minutes played out, I could be dead before nightfall.However, I knew that if things went well enough, she might not kill me and instead move on to her next quarry.
“To answer your earlier question, you hide it well,” I said at last, nodding my head. “If it were not for my ears, I would not have noticed.”
She brightened, realization dawning. “Oh, you were gifted by the Godsblood?” She stepped closer, her chest brushing against mine as she gripped my chin between her cold fingers. I watched her teeth extend slightly in morbid fascination. “That explains so much,” she murmured.
Does it?
