Читать книгу Sins of the Undead Patriot - a.c. Mason - Страница 14

Chapter 9

Leera slid her finger behind one ear then the other, leaving a trail of vanilla perfume. At the edge of her bed, she pulled on her black Cuban heels and buckled the straps. Gliding her finger up the seam of her stockings, she left a hint of the sweet scent. Did the aroma please zombies? She had no idea. Why did she even want to appeal to Vaihan?

The doorbell rang. She grabbed her beige coat and rushed to the door. Her hands trembled, and she took a deep breath to calm the nervous energy inside. This was doable.

She opened the door.

Vaihan stood with a bouquet of pink and white orchids in hand. His pupils grew large as his gaze traveled over her figure. A red scarf draped around the neck of his black, three quarter length overcoat sharpened the edge of his dramatic appearance. The maroon dress shirt suited his light blue skin pigmentation.

“You look gorgeous.” He held out the flowers for her.

Definitely smooth, but what high-ranking government official wasn’t? “Thank you, it’s a beautiful arrangement.” Gesturing him in, she stepped back. “Let me get these in water.”

“Don’t rush. We aren’t pressed for time and you, beaute, are worth the wait. Let me hold your jacket.” He held his arm out.

Just as she was doing, he was formulating opinions about her. A shaky breath escaped her. “Thank you.” She draped the fabric over his forearm and hurried to the kitchen, flowers in hand.

She peeked over at him standing in her foyer with a half smile, examining her house with his gaze. Doable might have been the wrong word...but she didn’t know what to replace it with yet. She removed a vase from her kitchen cabinet, filled it with water then cut the clear plastic over the exotic bouquet. One by one, she slid the stems into the glass then carried the flowers out to the dining room table.

She had done a piss poor job of stalling. “I’m ready,” she said.

As his gaze moved over her again, her body tingled.

“It’s chilly this evening.” Vaihan held up her coat.

After she slipped her arms in the sleeves, she turned to face him. “Nice and toasty warm thanks to you.” The difference in body temperature could come in handy. Especially in the winter.

“I aim to please.” His lips curved upward on one side. Despite his awkward beauty, the lines of his face were kind, baffling her that what some found terrifying, she found sexy. Did this make her weird? Not that this would be the first time.

He opened the door and guided her out.

The brisk night air washed over her cheeks, chilling her as she stepped out then locked the door.

“How was your week?” Vaihan’s deep voice was warmly gruff.

Cool air whirled around her. “I’ve had better, and you?”

He opened the passenger door for her. “Do you not wish to speak of what disrupted your week?”

She sat and he closed the door. This would be a good time to bring Rowley into the mix and ensure she set the pace of Vaihan’s inquiries. She buckled in.

Vaihan climbed into the driver’s seat then fastened his seatbelt. “Securely in?”

Did he have something of an obsession with locks? “I believe so.”

“Do you mind if I make sure? Given the issue with the latch.”

“Please do.” She extended the strap to him.

His warm, large hand covered hers. Her gaze met his intense stare as he yanked. “All clear.”

“If the car is under warranty, they will replace a faulty seatbelt latch.” She set her purse on her lap.

He leaned back, darting a look at the belt’s locking mechanism. “The dealer assures me it’s fixed.”

For peace of mind, he might want to get it replaced, as it gave him a fair amount of concern.

Vaihan smiled. “You were about to tell me of your week.”

“Ah, yes. A friend of mine, someone I’ve known a long time, named Rowley.” His expression appeared unchanged. “He was very upset about me going on a date with you.” She bit her bottom lip and held her breath waiting for his reaction. A knot twisted in her gut.

Vaihan pushed the lock button on the door. “Did you reassure him you only agreed to see me to prove how different we are?” His hand slid to the handle, then went back to the steering wheel.

Had he just checked the locks? Probably not. Get a grip.

He pulled onto the road. “With no long-term potential. Did you note how soon our date would be a distant memory?”

She had attempted to assure Rowley that it was just one date. “No, as that would be untrue and if it were my reason, I would have canceled because I wouldn’t lead you on. I enjoyed your brief yet memorable company, and I want to see if that continues.” She had to give him something, and most of it was true. Peter’s freedom was on the line. It didn’t hurt that Vaihan’s presence brought her a measure of happiness. Her emotional state hadn’t driven Vaihan away. And he was using her to get to Peter, so what did she have to feel guilty about?

“This friend’s approval matters to you?” He pressed the lock button again.

Something was definitely up with the locking and relocking. “Yes, he is important to me.” The truth was, Rowley was imperative to Peter’s future.

The heat of Vaihan’s touch moved up her arm to her neck, and a flush burned her skin. Her lips trembled as she forced a smile. His touch affected her, and she barely knew him.

“Then I shall work to gain this individual’s respect.” He reached over and took her hand in his.

If only that were an option. “That isn’t possible.”

Withdrawing his caress, he returned to steering. “I’m going to need to build up your faith in my abilities.” Vaihan smiled, warming his expression.

Her lack of faith was in no way a reflection of Vaihan’s skills, but rather an evaluation of Rowley’s hatred for undead. He’d founded the Coalition of the Living, COTL. An organization with the sole purpose of ensuring zombies weren’t welcome in America as they were in the rest of the world.

“I’ve lost you in those deep thoughts of yours.” Vaihan pulled up in front of the restaurant entrance.

The valet opened his door. Vaihan strode to her side and held his hand out for her.

Le Mouton was one of the few establishments that catered to both living and undead patrons. These types of restaurants had two kitchens–one for making human food and the other for making zombies’ fare.

“Good evening, Mr. Louchian, your table awaits.” The elder doorman cleared the way.

Despite the fact that she was a case to Vaihan, he’d brought her to a place he frequented. Was it because... No, she refused to spend the entire night analyzing everything he did.

“Just over here.” Vaihan looped a hand around her waist, fingers resting on her hip.

Warmth shot up her core. Her nipples hardened and she gasped. What wondrous power he had over her! There wasn’t anything wrong with her, enjoying being wined and dined. He was the government agent, not her.

The cozy corner booth by the river’s edge was bathed in soft lighting. The round oak table glowed. Outside, large snowflakes cascaded from the sky and the moon peeked through dark clouds.

Leera stepped up onto the elevated vacant rear section then removed her coat, which Vaihan handed to the doorman. She slid into the high-backed, caramel-colored leather seat.

“First snow of the year.” He smiled, sitting next to her.

She nodded. “It’s very pretty.” Romantic, for a first date. Not that he controlled the weather, but somehow it gave the evening an added layer.

A waiter approached with two menus in hand. “I’m Aaron. I’ll be looking after you this evening. I’ve brought our human menu, which is the red for the lady, and the blue for Mr. Louchian. I’ll give you a few moments to go over the selections and come back for your drinks.” He turned and moved to a table in the lower main dining area.

Most other tables had multiple undead with a human. Lust twinkled in the humans’ half-mast eyes. What did they know that she didn’t about undead?

“Is everything all right?” Vaihan tilted his head to see what she’d been staring at.

Heat burned Leera’s cheeks as she opened the menu. “Yes. Why do you ask?” Would he press the matter or back off?

“A certain curiosity piqued in those beautiful dark eyes. Is there anything I may be of assistance in clearing up?” His dimple peeked, softening his demeanor.

Sooner or later he’d find out how little she knew of his kind. “I’ve never known anyone who’s dated an undead, and yet, this place is filled with mixed couples.”

“Not all couples. Some are trios and other quartets.”

Quartets? Menages were complicated enough to understand. Wouldn’t she be stuffed from rim to brim? A table at the other end of the room had three undead males and a woman whose gaze sparkled with joy. The undead next to her had his hand pressed between her thighs. For the first time since Jean’s death, Leera wondered if she’d ever feel a connection beyond physical when being touched.

“Haven’t you heard, once you go undead, you never go back to the living?” A hint of mischief warmed his intense eyes, softening him.

She bit her bottom lip. A similar phrasing was told to her some years ago, but not in relation to undead.

“An undead’s primary focus in bed is his partner’s or partners’ pleasure–meaning orgasm.” He scanned his menu.

Should she interject a response or leave his mind to ponder what she thought of his comment. Heh. More fun to have him reflecting on it.

A wide selection of wines, spirits and ales covered the first page. Maybe drinking wasn’t a good idea. “You work for the White House, don’t you?”

“No, the president. My office is in the west wing on the second floor, at the back.”

“Of course, Special Advisor to the President...what does that mean exactly?”

“It varies. At times, she comes to me with an idea. I give her the undead perspective. Sometimes she tells me to get this or that done. Often, I need to smooth over decisions she’s made so that the undead don’t lose faith in her.” His pupils widened, filling his gaze with vulnerability. “I believe in the democracy of this great nation. My goal is to ensure that the rights and liberties are for all citizens, not just the living. As Mandela says, There is no such thing as part freedom.”

And was she going to endanger his purpose, everything he stood for? What choice did she have? If she didn’t, her brother would be shipped off to Guantanamo Bay. Peter had always looked out for her. She could do no different now, for his safety.

Maybe her comfort level with Vaihan was because she doubted he could hurt her. She knew he was only seeing her to further his own case, so he wouldn’t let his emotions run amok. People like Vaihan didn’t obtain what they wanted without having a ruthless side. He, too, could believe the ends justified the means.

Vaihan overlapped his hand on hers as he put down the menu. Butterflies traveled up her arm, sending a shiver through her. His touch felt right and thrilling all in the same moment.

What was she in the mood for? Spicy mixed with sweet. The ThaiMex salad was just the combo, with a shrimp cocktail to start.

“Have you decided?” Aaron stood beside their table, pencil and pad in hand.

“I have.” She smiled. “And how about you?” she asked Vaihan.

“Yes,” he responded. “I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman, if I ordered before you. Please go ahead.”

“Thank you.” Chivalry. She liked that quality in a male. “I’ll have a six ounce glass of vinho verde white. The shrimp cocktail, the ThaiMex fusion salad and a water, please.”

“Eclectic mix of flavors.” Vaihan’s upward-turned lips revealed his one dimple. “I’ll have all my usual.”

“Of course, Mr. Louchian. Let me make more space.” Aaron held out a hand for the menus, took them and left.

Vaihan’s smooth, long fingers strummed the tops of her hands. Heat danced beneath his touch.

She met his gaze.

“Your father fought for the first senate seat in the District of Columbia and your brother is a lawyer, who many believe will pick up were your father left off. So, how old were you when you decided you had no interest in politics or law?”

“Young.” In the beginning, she had feared her parent’s rejection. Eventually, she’d sought their disapproval. “My parents hoped I’d grow out of it. Peter helped shelter me from their criticism. My father believed I was mixed up with the wrong crowd, meaning boyfriend, so they shipped me off to study culinary arts abroad.” After the loss of her child and ovary, and breaking things off with Rowley, the victory of studying what she wanted had been bittersweet.

Aaron arrived with a wine and a Scotch glass on his tray.

Leera picked up her drink, smelled the sweet vanilla and pepper aromas then sipped the tangy liquid. “Delicious.”

“Wonderful.” The young man left.

“What were you seeking that cooking provided?” He locked his fingers with hers.

With Vaihan, an ease came over her at being touched that only her late husband and Rowley had managed to make her feel. “An artful skill, and something I could leave at work, when I left for the day.”

“And does your employment provide that?” He massaged the inside of her palm with his thumb.

“It can. However, after the accident, I buried myself in work and became the youngest woman head chef at a three star Michelin rated restaurant.” She lifted her glass and allowed the sweet taste to wash over her tongue. “As head chef at La Petite Brasserie, I do more managing than cooking. So the answer is no, but that is my own fault.”

A short man set down her shrimp cocktail, smiled and left.

Aaron arrived with a tray, placed a large white bowl in front of Vaihan with squares glazed in a dark red sauce. A deep-dish salad with leafy greens, tortilla chips pieces and beans with peanut butter dressing was placed before her. So far, everything seemed freshly made. Would the taste live up to it?

What had he ordered? Didn’t zombies eat humans?