“She’s your mother?” The words slipped out before I could stop myself.
“Julian.” The woman glared at him with a look that only a mom could muster in such a moment. “May I have a word?”
“Excuse us for a moment,” he said tightly.
I nodded, feeling a bit numb, as I watched the two of them walk a few steps down the hall to a shadowy alcove. His mother was incredibly beautiful, her hair the same glossy dark color and her features just as striking as his, but softer. Not that she was his actual mother, probably. I mean vampires were made, as far as I knew. That was how it worked in stories.
Usually, I liked to consider myself a fairly adaptable person. Why fight change when you can run with it? But watching them whisper in the dark, my brain was on overload. Too much was happening too fast. This had to be a dream. One of those crazy, swiftly changing ones that felt so real you almost believed it was happening.
I closed my eyes. “Wake up, Thea. You’re dreaming.”
Usually that did the trick, especially when I was stuck in a nightmare. And this was a nightmare–wasn’t it? Opening my eyes again, I found myself still standing in the corridor. Julian and his mother huddled a short distance away. I pinched my arm, just to be certain.
“Ouch.”
This was really happening. All of it.
Vampires were real.
The sexiest man ever was one of them, and he might be flirting with me?
And his mother looked both younger and hotter than me.
I needed a drink. The memory of blood dripping from Carmen’s neck swam to mind, and my stomach did a nasty flip. Or maybe, a drink was a bad idea. Tonight had taken a surreal turn, and, between my lack of sleep, work, and classes, I was too tired to deal with it. So what if Julian was beautiful? He was grumpy and controlling. Probably a byproduct of being alive during the Dark Ages or something. God, could he be that old?
It didn’t matter. All I wanted was to go home, change into some joggers and bury myself under the covers in bed.
Bed.
I heard his voice say the word, and my stomach knotted, coiling every muscle around it. I’d kept men at arm’s length the last few years. I didn’t have the time to think about a relationship between mom’s treatments, school, and work. A few guys had asked me out, but it had been easy to turn them down. But Julian wasn’t talking about a date. What would it be like to go to bed with a man like him?
I imagined his bed covered in silk sheets and rose petals. Vampires in movies were always a little theatrical. What I couldn’t begin to imagine was what it would feel like. I didn’t have much experience in that department. I had never dated anyone long enough to go to bed with him. I’d never really considered it. But now I couldn’t help wondering what hid beneath Julian’s tuxedo. I’d seen how strong he was. What could he do with it? I had no idea how long he’d been alive, but something told me his experience in the bedroom fell on the opposite end of the spectrum from mine. I’d never felt ready to sleep with a normal guy. There was no way I was prepared to lose my virginity to a vampire.
So why was I obsessing over it?
Probably because I couldn’t think while he was this close to me. Another good reason for me to hide in bed until work tomorrow. I made up my mind to get my things, check on Carmen, and leave.
“I have to apologize for my son,” the woman said, gliding toward me gracefully before I could take off. Her voice was warm and musical like his. I could listen to it all day. But meeting her gaze, I felt a chill. Her eyes were cold and hard as though she was sizing me up. “He told me that he was responsible for ruining your cello, amongst other things.”
I glanced over at him, wondering what he had admitted to her.
“She knows everything,” Julian confirmed in a low, irritated tone.
“Someone has to clean up the family messes.” She didn’t look too pleased about being the one who had to do it. “I already excused the other members of your quartet. When they returned a member short, the sound felt a trifle light.”
“I am so sorry,” I gushed. Guilt swelled inside me. Not only had I let everyone else down, they had to bear the consequences without me.
“It hardly matters. No one was listening anyway.” She waved her hand dismissively. “You can go too, Mademoiselle…”
“Melbourne. Thea Melbourne,” Julian added, stepping into my path before I could do as she suggested. “I should have introduced you. Thea, this is Sabine Rousseaux.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs.–”
“Madame,” she corrected me. “Mrs. is a term humans use.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to maintain a polite attitude if I spoke.
“Julian insists on seeing you home,” she continued through gritted, but perfectly white, teeth.
“That’s not necessary,” I started.
“He’s quite insistent.” She shot her son a look as sharp as I expected those teeth were. “I am sorry you were dragged into this. If you’ll excuse me…”
I resisted the urge to curtsy. It seemed like she might expect some sign of fealty. She brushed past me and then stopped.
“And Julian, be sure to see that she’s looked after,” she said meaningfully before continuing to the party like the queen she obviously was.
“Let’s go,” Julian said. He didn’t offer me his arm this time. He didn’t even look at me. Instead, he started straight for the front entrance.
“My case and purse,” I reminded him. He stopped and turned slowly, looking as if spending another second dealing with me was absolute torture.
A lump formed in my throat as we walked in utter silence to gather my belongings. I swallowed, fighting back tears I didn’t quite understand. The only explanation was that I was tired, and I wanted to put tonight and all this weirdness behind me.
I picked up my cello case, its lightness a reminder of what I’d lost, and felt a tear fall. I brushed it away quickly, hoping he didn’t see. Julian reached over and took it from me, but he remained quiet. I followed behind him, digging my BART card out of my bag.
He beat me outside, and by the time I reached him, he was already speaking with the valet. The attendant rushed off with the speed of someone who knew a big tip was on the line.
I held up my pass. “I can get home from here. If I could have my case, I–”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he cut me off. “I will see you home.”
“I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for twenty-two years.” Saying the words was like an incantation. After all of tonight’s craziness, I’d started to question myself. Why? I had nearly finished school with a sick mom and two jobs. So what if vampires existed? I’d survived more than one tonight. If anything, I was more prepared now if I stumbled onto another one.
“Thea,” he said stiffly. “I apologize for the suggestive remark I made earlier. I promise I will never lay a finger on you.”
A wave of disappointment rolled over me, but I lifted my head. “And I promise that I can see myself home.”
“No,” he growled, his mask of polite detachment slipping to show the beast underneath. I resisted the urge to shrink away.
“What are you going to do? Throw me over your shoulder again like some Neanderthal?”
The muscles in his jaw ticced as he met my glare head-on. “Don’t tempt me.”
“Don’t test me,” I shot back.
We both refused to concede ground, so we stayed locked in a staring contest until a car roared to the curb in front of us. Julian grabbed my elbow and dragged me toward it, my cello case in his other hand. The valet got out, leaving the engine running, and glanced nervously at us. I knew nothing about cars, except that this one was expensive. Probably, the most expensive car I would ever ride in. Julian placed my cello case on the ground as the valet came around to open my door.
“Thank you,” Julian stopped him and handed him a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill. “I’ve got it from here.”
“Thanks.” He stared at the money before shoving it in his pocket.
Julian reached for the door, finally releasing his grip on me. He opened it and moved to the side. I crossed my arms and stood there.
“Get in the car, Thea,” he said with forced calm.
I shook my head.
“Now,” he added.
I raised an eyebrow and didn’t move. We were locked in a vampire-human standoff.
“Please,” he said with gritted teeth.
I waited for a second before releasing a sigh and climbing into the passenger seat, which took a bit of effort between the low ride of the car and my long gown. He closed the door muttering a frustrated string of curses but looking relieved that I had given in. He thought he had won the battle, but I had questions for Julian Rousseaux, and he was going to answer every one of them.
Julian circled the car, pausing to put my cello case in the trunk, before sliding behind the wheel. He filled the entire seat, reminding me again of his muscular body. I ignored the tick of interest between my legs that the thought sparked. He reached into his pocket, but didn’t pull anything out. Instead he frowned and studied the dash.
“Fucking electronic bullshit,” he swore.
“Huh?” I craned to see what had him so frustrated.
“My brother told me I could get directions on this,” he said as he pressed a bunch of buttons. The display screen in the car flashed between settings as he searched for something.
“Like GPS?”
He shrugged one of his broad shoulders. “Is that what it is?”
“You don’t know what GPS is?”
“I took a little break from the world,” he admitted.
“Like a vacation?”
“Like a nap,” he said.
“For how long?” I asked slowly.
“About thirty-five years.”
Another couple dozen questions added themselves to my list. For now, though, the flashing screen was making my head hurt. I shooed him away. “Let me.”
He watched as I input my address into the car’s navigation system. It spoke the first direction and he grimaced. “This explains a lot.”
“Like what?” I asked curiously.
“Nothing,” he said as he pulled onto the street with a cautiousness that did not match the ostentatious car. We fell silent as he made his way through the streets of San Francisco. Cars zipped past as we drove.
“Do you always drive like a grandmother?” I finally blurted out.
“Only when I have fragile cargo.” He didn’t bother to look at me.
“Fragile? What…” It dawned on me that he was referring to me. I was fragile–pathetically human–and he was stuck babysitting me. I slouched in my seat, no longer wanting to ask him anything. But one question kept resurfacing, even as I tried my best to ignore it.
“What did your mother mean?” I asked. “When she said to look after me?”
“You don’t want to know,” he muttered, his eyes never leaving the moonlit street. It had begun to drizzle and the city’s customary fog was rolling in.
“I really do,” I said. Too many things didn’t make sense. For one, Sabine Rousseaux had not seemed at all keen on me spending time with her son, so why tell him to look after me?
“She wanted me to compel you,” he finally said after a few moments of silence.
“Compel?” I repeated the word as a traffic light turned red. “Like what you did to Carmen?”
“Yes.” Julian slowed to a stop before turning to face me. “I’m supposed to make you forget everything you saw and everything you know about vampires.”
I should want that, too, so why didn’t I? My head fell as I murmured, “Oh.”
“I’m not going to do it.”
I lifted my head to stare at him. He didn’t want me to forget. Hope blossomed in my chest. Maybe Julian didn’t hate me.
Before I could question why I cared how the rude, old-fashioned vampire felt about me, he continued. “Because I have a better idea.”
