Читать книгу Sins of the Undead Patriot - a.c. Mason - Страница 11

Chapter 6

Perhaps the seat wasn’t empty, but vacant. Vaihan wanted to tell her the pain wouldn’t last forever. However, even that stage of grief brought new questions and doubts.

“Meg-g...” Peter frowned.

“Oh dear, I didn’t mean to.” Meg hid her face in Peter’s shoulder. “I didn’t think before I spoke.”

Evidently not. Neither made any attempt to go after her. Weren’t they worried for her safety? “Allow me.” This was his chance.

Vaihan set down his drink before Peter could interject, and followed after her. He pushed the handle and the door opened. Rows of cars stretched before him. The Potomac lapped at the shore to his left, past the grassy area. The night sky provided a starry canopy.

She paced between a minivan and an SUV. The moment Peter had pointed her out, he had suppressed the urge to walk over to her. What had gotten into him? The possibility that he’d grown attached to the sad woman in the photo Barton had provided him was real. Leera was attractive in a sultry way. Human males noticed her.

“Leera.” He breathed out her name.

She darted a look at him, eyes shimmering with tears. Wind tossed her curls in all directions. What a horrid feeling indeed, to be trapped among the living when all you wanted to be was dead. Once, he too had longed for the cycle to end, but not anymore. Not in a long time.

“Don’t come over here. My mascara has made a mess of my face.” She bent toward the side mirror of the silver SUV, her plump bottom pushed out.

“It’s going to take a lot more than smudged makeup to do that.” He cocked his head to admire the seam between her thighs. “You’re gorgeous.”

The corner of her mouth twitched upward. “You are some kind of smooth talker.” She lifted upright then spun toward him.

Admittedly, he stood too close but he itched to touch her again.

When she attempted to step back, he scooped his arm behind her, resting his fingers against the bare skin of her open-backed gown.

A breath hitched at her lips. As her heart rate accelerated, her eyes widened with fear.

“Not so fast.” He steadied her. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

She wrapped her hands around the upper part of her body, creating a barrier. Goose bumps covered her exposed arms.

He unfastened the buttons of his jacket, slipped off the garment and then rested it on her shoulders.

“You don’t have to.” Her gazed traveled from his neck to where two buttons were undone on his dress shirt.

Did she like what she saw? For now, he’d content himself with not finding disgust in her eyes. As her dark gaze rose, it met his, and her body relaxed. A run of black makeup was smeared beneath her eyes. He pressed his thumb to her skin, wiping away tears and mascara.

She reached for his hand, then pressed his flesh to hers. “You’re so hot.”

“I’ll have you know, I’m not just good looks.” He let his hand rest in the small of her back.

“I meant your skin.”

“Of course you did. I’m undead. My appearance is usually a cause for fear.” Most of his kind paid for human female companionship. He’d never needed to. Zombies had their own underground scene. Lavish nightclubs, where humans offered themselves up blindfolded, tied up and bound to the wall or ceiling in exchange for a taste of poison. These places provided a safe environment where the undead could feast on the living in a number of ways.

Not his cup of tea.

“Hmm.” She angled her head. “Given the lines of your brow, nose and lips with the structure of your jaw, I’d say you’re easy on the eyes.”

In mere moments of knowing him, she’d been able to see him as more than his scary exterior.

“Undead of my persuasion have a body temperature that is about six degrees hotter than humans.” With his index finger, he tucked a rogue curl behind her ear.

“Guess that’s why I’m not chilly anymore.” She met his stare.

“Here I thought the change was your attraction to me.” He smiled.

She pressed her lips together. A sweet peach scent rose from her flesh as she warmed from his touch. The pigment of her skin indicated she ate healthy food and exercised regularly. The meat of her thighs was probably tender and succulent, but likely didn’t compare to the sweet taste of the juices between them.

His taste buds tingled with anticipation. “Let me take you home?”

She glanced around his shoulder to the grand building. “I don’t want to worry Peter and Meg.”

“I’ll email him on my BlackBerry.” Her next protest was sure to be about him missing this evening’s music. So, he’d better put that option to rest. “As far I’m concerned, I’ve seen the show twice and will again, so you aren’t depriving me.” But if she turned him down, she would be.

“Thank you. I appreciate the ride.” She slipped her arms into the sleeves of his coat.

“My car is in the parking station. This way.” He gestured back inside then pulled out his BlackBerry and thumbed a message to Peter. Please enjoy your evening. I’m escorting Leera home. He pressed Send. “I’ve let your brother know I’m bringing you to your place.”

“You wouldn’t happen to be doing this so you’ll know where I live?” The slightest brightness glimmered in her black eyes.

He held the first set of doors open for her, directed her to the elevator and pressed the Down button. That information would be easy enough to obtain.

“I was joking.” Leera pushed into her heels and smiled.

“It beats stalking you...”

Sadness emanated from her. Loss never got easier, not even for his kind.

“You’d be bored,” she said. “I live an uneventful life. Work, working out, gardening in the summer. I’m a homebody.”

The bell dinged and door panels slid apart. He entered after her and pressed P1. The doors closed. With a jerk, the elevator descended.

“A vegetable garden?” Not a hobby of his, but if she were lying naked in a pumpkin patch he might be convinced otherwise. The accenting contrast of her perfect breasts and dark nipples jutting out over the edge of the large orange vegetables would give him cause to pause.

He swallowed thickly.

“Yes, how did you know?” She smiled then pressed her lips into a thin line.

“Peter told me you’re a genius-turned-chef. Vegetables seemed a natural leap. You studied at the institute of Le Cordon Bleu in Paris, correct?” The best school of French cuisine. She’d gone away to study, probably to be a great distance from the serious Waltz family businesses of law and politics. Not to mention, the pressure.

“I did.” With her straight white teeth, she bit into the moist plumpness of her bottom lip.

A shiver shot up his spine. Insinuating such offers with a zombie might not be in her best interest. Not that he planned on eating her in the literal sense of the word. He definitely wanted to taste her in more places and ways than one, but she was work. Better he delay any such encounters until after he flipped the brother to Barton so they could take down Mr. McKie. Once he got that straightened out, whatever occurred would be mutual. The elevator doors opened and he led her to his black Audi with dark tinted windows. He opened her door.

She slipped into the seat. “Are you a haut cuisine connoisseur?” The hemline of her dress rose, revealing her beautiful, fit thighs. In the soft light, her silky bronze legs shimmered.

He frowned at his admiration. “Moi, non, but a good friend of mine, Johann, is the first undead to graduate from the program.” He could only imagine how tender she’d be to bite into, her satiny flesh pressed to his mouth, teasing his lips... He’d forgotten how difficult this would be.

When she’d lifted her legs into the Audi, he shut the door, went around and climbed in on the driver’s side. “Are you buckled in?”

“I am. Thank you.” She tugged the strap over the full mounds of her breasts. They jiggled with the movement, and all he wanted was to have his hands on them.

He exhaled heavily, pulled his belt over his shoulder, across his lap and pushed in. The mechanism clicked. Her belt was on too. He pushed the lock button on the door. The apparatus clicked. He pushed the button again. Why he’d bought a car without the little sticks that indicated the doors were locked or not was beyond him. Her belt seemed in, but what if the latch hadn’t locked?

“Is everything okay?”

If he came up with a good enough reason, she’d let him check her seatbelt. “Yeah, it’s just the seatbelt doesn’t always click in properly. It’s been problematic since I purchased the car.”

“Oh.” She breathed out and tugged the strap.

He covered her hand and yanked, and she jerked her hand back.

Not good. “Sorry.”

“No, I’m the one that should be sorry,” she said, her dark gaze fixed on him. “You were just looking out for me.”

Exactly. If he checked again, she’d think he was crazy.

The beige lighting in the parking lot shone on the velvety texture of her skin. Vaihan turned on the engine, put the car in reverse, pulled out of his parking spot. Arrows marked the path he followed to the exit. He pushed the lock button again. If he tapped the brakes at a low speed and she didn’t fall out, the strap was probably secure. He stopped at the pay counter.

“Nice to see you, Mr. Louchian.” The young lad behind the glass counter smiled.

“Jazz, back on the evening shift?” Vaihan removed a twenty from the cup holder.

“Yes, but only while Frank is away.” He tapped commands into a keyboard. “Your total comes to ten dollars.”

He held out the cash. “Keep the change.”

“Thanks.” The young man saluted off his turban.

In the last few moments, Leera had not spoken a word, though he was sure she’d observed his interaction with the youth.

Vaihan pressed the gas then hit the brake.

Leera gasped but remained in her seat. Good. The belt appeared secure. Though, at high impact it could react differently...not that he was about to test his theory.

“I’m sorry.” He merged the vehicle onto the road. “Where to, beaute?” Beauty.

“The corner of Kenmore Drive Northwest and Charleston Terrace Northwest. Know it?” She slid her feet back along the car mat, raising her knees. The satin fabric of her peach dress slipped further up. No panty lines were visible. Was she bare beneath?

Excitement rushed to his cock.

The hard peaks of her nipples pressed to the material of her gown. Not since Elizabeth had he allowed a woman to rouse his lust before he figured out her level of receptiveness toward him–his kind. Was his interest heightened because she was off-limits? Common sense would dictate he refrain from sleeping with a woman he was using to get to someone else–especially when the target was her brother.

“Near the reservoir?” He met her gaze.

“That’s the place.” Her pretty glossy lips curved to one side. “And you, where do you call home?”

“A cemetery.”

Her eyes widened to saucers. “You tease.” A subtle breath escaped, relaxing her shoulders.

“Not entirely.” He merged onto Canal Road Northwest. “My place is across from the Oak Hill cemetery near Twenty-ninth Street. One of the benefits is that the people across the way are quiet.”

Trees lined the roadway and the moon shimmered off the water.

“My husband is not buried here. His family is Catholic. They had his body laid to rest in the family cemetery back in France. I had a headstone put at the Holy Rood Cemetery to have somewhere to pay my respects.” She fidgeted with her hands in her lap.

“Does it help?”

Leera shook her head as she turned to the window. “This winter will have been a year since the accident. I should be getting on with living.” Streaks of lights from the streetlamps flashed in her vacant eyes.

“There isn’t anything wrong with standing still while everything around you is moving.” Human life was but a blink. Why spend time running after smoke?

“I’m the red brick on the left side of the cul-de-sac.” She pointed to the post-War bungalow-style home.

Vaihan pulled into the driveway behind a shiny blue Honda Fit. “I’ll be doing the driving on our outings as I don’t fit in the Fit.”

“It’s bigger than it looks.” She grinned.

“I, on the other hand, I am as big as I seem.”

Her stare stopped at the bulge in his pants then met his gaze. “Point taken. Your car it is.” Her cheeks grew pink.

Whether she was ready or not, her body was propositioning him to relieve her, bringing his cock to full attention. He too missed the connection of having someone to share his body with.

He got out and opened her door. “Here you go, beaute.” Lifting his arm, he waited for her to accept his offer of assistance.

Leera placed her hand on his. He tugged her to her feet then shut the door. The cool night air passed between them. As they walked in tandem, he narrowed the distance.

A soft glow flooded the porch. He stopped on the step just below.

“I’m not usually like this.” She shielded her eyes with her hand.

“Listen.” He lowered her hand from her face. “Don’t apologize to me for having a heart. My only hope is that you are open to sharing the joys this strange world has to offer once more.”

She blinked, sending tears down her cheeks. “You are a very strange man, Vaihan Louchian.”

“I’m no man. I’m undead, but very much alive in soul. When I’m with you, my corpse comes to life.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed the velvety surface. A tornado of hunger ripped through him and saliva pooled in his mouth. His body prepared to paralyze his meal. The frenzy in his every cell wreaked havoc and reminded him that though he wasn’t living, he still existed. He peeled his lips from her flesh, careful not to leave any toxin behind.

She let out a gasp and stepped into the house.

“I’ll pick you up Thursday at seven PM.” This assignment was a disaster. The woman’s grief ran so deep, and yet, he felt drawn to her.

“On the nose.” With a smile, she closed the door. The lock clicked and her footsteps moved away from the entrance. What if the mechanism had failed? She’d have no way of knowing that someone could break in through the front. Better he check. Hand on the doorknob, he turned and pushed in. Resistance from the lock kept the door closed.

With that he headed to the car. What if the force he’d used to verify she was safe had broken the lock? If he didn’t confirm her security and something happened, he’d regret it. On the other hand, going back would only feed into his OCD. He slipped into the car. The light from the large front window went out. She hadn’t turned the alarm system on. Nothing would alert her to an intruder. And he hadn’t the decency to check the woman’s lock a second time, out of fear of his condition. He stood and marched to the porch.

Not to alarm her, he cradled the handle with his fingers and slowly turned. The springs inside the lock mechanism squealed. Well, that was a smooth move, Casanova. He hoped she hadn’t heard.

The knob slipped from his hand and the door swung open. “What are you doing?” Leera stood in a satin beige housecoat. Her nipples were hard buds, pressing to the thin material and her freshly washed face beamed.

Lying wouldn’t help his cause, at this point. “Checking that your door was locked.” He backed away. “You didn’t latch the chain.”

“I usually do that when I’m off to bed, and I hadn’t yet finished getting ready.” The sharp edge of her eyes softened, as did the rigid line of her shoulders. “I appreciate you checking up on me.”

Warmth fluttered inside him. She wasn’t angry with him. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Her lips spread into a wide smile over her teeth. “I promise to put the chain on then turn the alarm on.”

“Good night, Ms. Waltz.”

“You too, Vaihan.” The door slid into the frame. Mechanisms clanked and chains rattled then hooked. No way could he check all over again. She’d think he was crazy.

Every step toward his vehicle, his legs felt heavier. He should at least verify once more that she was safe, shouldn’t he? No. No way.

* * * *

Vaihan pushed the door closed to his brownstone.

Flint rushed out from the kitchen, wiping the blood on his hand onto a dishtowel. “Quinn and Sam are grounded again,” he said, and tapped his foot on the hardwood floor.

As the elder of the three, Flint’s patience level with the two newer undead guys waned.

“What might they have done this time?” Vaihan fixed his gaze on Flint, trying to suppress his amusement.

“They offered to buy a woman’s baby.” With his hands to the heavens, he shook his head.

Vaihan chuckled. “Did she slap one, or both? Were the police contacted?” Most of his neighbors knew his house acted as a halfway house for newer undead. They had tried to have him thrown out but those attempts went unanswered.

“No. She crossed the road and kept looking over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t followed. Embarrassing.” He shook his head. “You’re home early.”

“I am.”

“Did they not play well this evening?” Flint drummed his chin with his fingers.

“The performance was exquisite.” And so was Leera.

“What’s that smile about?” He leaned on the wall.

Vaihan’s BlackBerry vibrated. “I need to take this.” As he leaped up the stairs, he withdrew the device from the holster.

“Hello, Vaihan?” a man questioned in a high-pitched voice.

He pressed the smartphone to his ear. “Yes, Ralph...”

“I don’t mean to call you so late. I was catching up on some paperwork and wanted to talk to you about this letter you want me to send to Jean Denoix’s widow’s lawyer. We’ve known each other a long time. This woman is trying to move on with her life. Let this go.” A heavy sigh was breathed into his ear.

Maybe the woman didn’t need to hear what her husband had said to him in the moments before his death, but he couldn’t rest until she told him herself to let this go. Just because he couldn’t stay for the police with the dead body in his trunk didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about the man’s widow. “I want you to track down the client.”

“I can’t do that. I’d be breaking a whole bunch of laws.”

“And suddenly that is an issue.” Fine time for him to decide he wanted to only do things aboveboard. “I’m calling in all the favors you owe me. Get this for me, and you get a clean slate.”

“You’re such a bastard.”

When he had to be. “Thanks, Ralph. We’ll meet up once you have a name so there won’t be a record of the exchange of information. No one will ever know. Call me when you have what I want.” He pressed the End Call button.