“You’re not rich?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “I’m a repo man.”
“You’re a what?”
“A repo man. I repossess shit for a living. Cars. Trucks. Furniture, jewelry, whatever people don’t pay on. It’s my job to take it back.”
“You work a blue-collar job?”
He nods.
“But h-how can you be a vampire if you’re blue-collar?” That word unsettles me more than the killing. My whole life, I’ve been toldallvampires are elite. All vampires are rich and powerful men.
If he’s not elite, then that means that I’ve been lied to… My mother would never.
“No, clearly, that can’t be true,” I try to refute. “Clearly, you’re not telling me the truth.”
“I would never lie to you, Blair.”
It’s such a strange thing, standing in front of this man, and knowing I should feel frightened. I should be trying to claw my way out of this stupid cabin. But it’s as if every cell in my body knows he’s not going to kill me or do something terrible to me.
Which is crazy. I should be downright terrified. All the evidence supports a gruesome finish to this spectacularly messed-up day, not something sexy.
My pulse is racing now, neediness overcoming fear in the most infuriating way. Standing this close to him feels like I’m standing near live electricity. My skin feels too tight. My lungs feel too small. And my body wants to move closer to him.
“What’s your name, then?” I question. “If you would never lie to me, what’s your name?”
“Kane Slater.”
I guess I thought he’d given me a fake name or something. I don’t know what I expected his answer to be, but it wasn’t that.
“You were at the mixer the other night, weren’t you?” I demand. “I remember making eye contact with you.”
“Yes.” He nods. “I was there, but I wasn’t there for the same reasons that men like Damien or Holland were there.”
“Why were you there, then?”
“To get information,” he says. “And to find you.”
“Find me?” I narrow my eyes. “W-what?”
“Destiny, Blair,” he says. “You are my destiny.” My heart skips a beat and my head swims. And for some insane reason, I find myself taking a step toward him. And then another step. And then another.
Oh my God, what am I doing? Stop.
“You kidnapped me,” I say, keeping my feet planted firmly to the ground. I need to anchor myself to something. I need to remind myself of what he just did.
“Yes, but not because I want to hurt you. Because I want to protect you.”
“But you ruined my life.”
“No, Blair.” Even though my feet are still planted, he steps closer. “Isavedyour life.”
My back bumps against the wall, but I don’t remember him moving. Our chests are pressed against each other, and his eyes are locked on mine.
So close. So warm. So solid.
I should be scared.
