Читать книгу Dead Sexy - Amanda Ashley - Страница 13

Regan woke to darkness. Frowning, she glanced around the room, wondering what time it was. She didn’t usually wake up in the middle of the night, but the room was dark beyond the faint glow of the lamp on the bedside table. Closing her eyes, she tried to go back to sleep, but it was no use. She was wide awake. Maybe a glass of warm milk would help her relax.

Slipping out of bed, she went into the kitchen. She ran her hands along the wall, searching for the light switch. It wasn’t until she opened the refrigerator and saw several plump plastic bags filled with red liquid that she remembered where she was.

Grimacing, she quickly closed the refrigerator door, thinking how bizarre it was that the condos at the Vampire Arms had functional kitchens, complete with ovens and dishwashers. But then, some of the vampires had human lovers, so maybe it wasn’t so odd after all.

After turning off the light, she made her way into the dark living room.

A muffled “oomph!” escaped her lips when she bumped into something. She let out a shriek when a hand reached out to steady her.

“Do not be afraid.” Santiago’s voice poured over her like hot chocolate.

Murmuring a quick, “I’m sorry,” she backed away from him and cried out as she hit the back of her leg on a corner of the coffee table.

Once again, his hand was there to steady her. “Stay here.”

A moment later, the lights came on and she found herself looking up at Santiago. “I couldn’t sleep,” she explained, unsettled by his steady gaze. “I was going to get some hot milk, you know, to help me sleep even though I’m not really tired, but…” A rush of heat burned her cheeks. She was babbling like a fool.

“It is late morning, Regan.”

“How can that be?” She stared at him, her eyes wide. “You’re…you’re awake.”

He shrugged. “So are you.”

“You know what I mean. Why aren’t you asleep in your…why aren’t you asleep?”

He grinned, obviously amused by her reluctance to mention the traditional place where vampires took their rest. “I am not yet tired.”

She glared at him. Stubborn man. He knew very well what she was asking. And she didn’t believe for a minute that it was morning. Everyone knew that vampires were, you should pardon the expression, dead to the world until the sun went down.

Moving past him, she went to the heavy black drapes that covered the room’s only window and pulled one back, just a little, in case he was telling the truth. After all, she didn’t want him to burst into flame right in front of her eyes.

She squinted against the bright light of the sun, then glanced at Santiago over her shoulder. “How can you be awake?”

He backed further into the room’s shadows. “Maybe someday I will tell you.”

“Another secret?” she asked dryly.

He nodded.

“I guess you have a lot of them.”

“More than you can imagine.” He jerked his chin toward the window. “Do you mind?”

“What? Oh, sorry.” She dropped the heavy drapery back into place, shutting out the morning light, her curiosity growing by leaps and bounds. She had thought she knew all there was to know about vampires. Apparently, she had been wrong.

“I regret I cannot offer you breakfast,” he said with a wry grin. “Would you like me to order you something from Sardino’s?”

“Spaghetti and meatballs for breakfast?” she muttered dubiously. “I don’t think so.” Although it was far more preferable than what he dined on.

His laugh was warm and rich as he picked up the phone, punched in the number for the restaurant, and handed her the phone. “Order whatever you wish. Tell Sardino to charge it to my account.”

She didn’t like the idea of eating in front of Santiago again and was thinking about telling him that she really wasn’t hungry when her stomach growled, embarrassingly long and loud. With a sigh, she turned her back to him and ordered a waffle, bacon, coffee, and orange juice.

“Would you care to shower while you wait?” he asked. “There are clean towels in the bathroom.”

A shower sounded heavenly. In Flynn’s apartment, she wouldn’t have hesitated, but Flynn didn’t affect her the way Santiago did. And Flynn wasn’t a vampire.

Santiago was watching her. Though his expression was impassive, she had a feeling he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Lifting her chin a notch, she said, “Thank you, a shower sounds wonderful.”

Before she could change her mind, she pivoted on her heel and headed for the bathroom. She closed and locked the door, knowing, as she did so, that nothing as flimsy as a wooden door or a lock would keep him out. She told herself she was just being paranoid. Santiago had no designs on her; he had been nothing but kind to her.

But he was still a vampire.

And she was still afraid of him.

She turned on the shower, undressed quickly, and stepped under the spray. As wonderful as the water felt, being undressed in Joaquin Santiago’s shower made her decidedly ill at ease. It was, she thought as she dried off, probably the fastest shower on record.

She pulled on her clothes and towel-dried her hair. She wished fleetingly that she had her hair dryer and her makeup, then chided herself for worrying about how she looked. He was a vampire, for goodness’ sake, not a prospective boyfriend!

Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the bathroom door and went into the living room. She hadn’t paid much attention to her surroundings earlier. Looking around now, she understood why. There was little to see. The walls were white and bare, the carpet a nondescript shade of beige. A brown sofa and matching chair were grouped in front of the fireplace. Somehow, none of the furnishings in this room, as sparse as they were, seemed to suit its occupant.

“You are just in time,” Santiago said. “The delivery boy left your breakfast outside.”

With a nod, Regan retrieved the tray and carried it into the kitchen. The walls were white and devoid of any decoration. The appliances were white and, as far as she could tell, had never been used. The space was so sterile, it reminded her of a hospital operating room.

Santiago followed her to the kitchen, then stopped in the doorway, one shoulder negligently propped against the jamb.

Sitting at the small, round, glass-and-metal table, Regan lifted the cover from the tray, pleased to see that Sardino had included utensils and a napkin. The waffle looked light enough to float away; the three strips of bacon were cooked just the way she liked them.

She looked up at Santiago. “Why do I have the feeling I’m the first person that’s ever eaten in here?”

“Perhaps because you are,” he replied with a faint grin. “Maybe I should stock the shelves.”

Regan looked at him sharply. “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

He shrugged. “You know what they say, it pays to be prepared.”

“Well, don’t bother. I doubt if I’ll be spending much time here.”

“Maybe I could change your mind.”

“Why would you want to?”

“I find myself enjoying your company.”

She was flattered in spite of herself. Truth be told, she enjoyed his company, too, but there was no future in it. Even if she could get past the fact that he was a vampire, she wasn’t sure if they were even the same species anymore.

With a shake of her head, Regan concentrated on the food on her plate, acutely aware of Joaquin Santiago’s watchful gaze. She searched her mind for something to break the silence and said the first thing that popped into her head.

“Do you ever miss real food?”

His gaze slid over her throat. “Not for years.”

“What do you miss?”

“What makes you think I miss anything?”

“Don’t you?”

He thought about it a moment, then shrugged. “The advantages of being a vampire far outweigh what I lost.”

“Advantages?” she scoffed. “Like not being able to go outside during the day? Like drinking blood? Like being unable to have children and being forced to live in this…” She made a gesture that encompassed his apartment. “This prison?”

“I call being alive a distinct advantage,” he retorted. “If not for the Dark Trick, I would have been dead centuries ago.”

“But you aren’t alive. Not really.”

“No?”

He moved toward her, his eyes so dark they looked almost black as his hands folded over her shoulders and lifted her to her feet. The fork in her hand fell to the table and skittered onto the floor.

“Not alive?” he asked, his voice soft and silky as he drew her into his arms. “Could a dead man kiss you like this?”

Kiss? The word jump-started her heart. He was going to kiss her. Before the thought had time to register in her mind, his mouth was swooping down on hers, capturing her lips in a searing kiss that sent frissons of heat exploding through every inch of her body before settling in the pit of her stomach. His lips were surprisingly warm, his tongue like a flame sliding over her lips, imprinting his taste on her skin like a brand.

It was the most incredible, unforgettable, mind-blowing kiss she had ever known. It heated her blood, made her skin tingle and her toes curl, until she was aware of nothing but the man holding her in his embrace, his mouth moving over hers, by turns teasing and seductive. But for his arms holding her upright, she was certain she would have melted into a pool of liquid desire at his feet.

She stared up at him, bereft and confused, when he broke the kiss.

His gaze bored into hers, hot and heavy. “Has any mortal man ever kissed you like that, Regan Delaney?”

Dazed, she shook her head.

He smiled at her, a look of pure masculine satisfaction. “I did not think so,” he said arrogantly.

She couldn’t think of anything to say, couldn’t think at all. Her lips felt swollen and on fire, her legs felt like Jell-O, her mind like Swiss cheese. She would have done anything he asked, she thought, if only he would kiss her like that again. It was disconcerting to discover that one kiss could leave her feeling so muddled. No doubt making love to him would leave her in a disoriented state for days, maybe weeks.

Lifting one hand, he cupped her cheek. His touch sent shivers of awareness and anticipation skittering down her spine. Right or wrong, she wanted his kisses more than her next breath.

His widening smile told her he knew exactly what effect his nearness and his caresses had on her senses.

It was annoying that he read her so easily, she thought irritably, and then grinned. He was holding her close, close enough that she could feel the effect she had on him, as well. It was nice to know it wasn’t all one-sided!

“I need to go home.” She had to get out of here. She couldn’t think clearly in his presence, couldn’t think of anything but black satin sheets and his mouth on hers, hot and wet. She stepped out of his embrace. She needed a change of clothes, needed to check her messages, sleep in her own bed, and breathe air that didn’t carry his hot, masculine scent to her with every breath.

“I do not think that is wise.”

“I don’t care what you think. I can’t stay here indefinitely.”

“Wait until dusk, and I will take you.”

“I don’t think there’s any danger during the day. The killings have all been at night.” She frowned. “I thought werewolves only shifted at night when the moon was full.”

“Most do.”

“But not Vasile?”

“No.”

“Do you mean that he can shift anytime he wants?”

Santiago nodded.

“And you don’t have to sleep during the day.” She frowned. “Why do I feel there’s a connection there?”

“Perhaps because there is.”

Regan sat down, all thought of going home forgotten. “I’m listening.”

Santiago considered whether he should tell her the truth, then shrugged, thinking it might be wise to let her know what they were up against.

Taking hold of the chair across from hers, he straddled it, then folded his arms across the back. “Vasile killed someone I cared for,” he began slowly. “I hunted him down and we fought. During the battle, I bit him. He shifted and he bit me. The taste of his blood was like acid on my tongue. It left me feeling weak, sick. I can only guess that my blood had the same effect on him because he ran away. I am guessing that ingesting my blood drained him of strength, at least for a time. I found a new lair and…” He grinned wryly. “If you will pardon the pun, I slept like the dead for several days.” He did not tell her of Marishka or of the nights he had spent holding her lifeless body in his arms. “When I woke, it was morning and I discovered I was no longer held captive by the Dark Sleep.”

“So you can go out during the day?”

“No, but the rising of the sun no longer renders me powerless.”

“Did your blood affect Vasile?”

Santiago nodded again. “I believe it is my blood that allows him to shift during the day. I have hunted him for centuries. And now he is here.”

“And you think he’s looking for you?”

“Why else would he have come here?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he’s not looking for you at all. Maybe his being here is just a coincidence. It’s a small world, after all.”

“Perhaps, but it does not matter. He is killing in my territory and it has to stop.”

“What does any of this have to do with me?”

Santiago leaned back in his chair, wondering what she would say, what she would do, if he told her the truth.