Chapter 4
Chapter Four
AIDAN
“What did you just call me?”
Joanna’s face is scrunched in displeasure, but seeing it brings me great satisfaction.
“You’re like a fly I keep having to swat away,” I tell her matter-of-factly. “You’re everywhere I go.”
“Sounds to me like you need a bath,” she mutters.
Touché.
Ignoring her quip, I lean back in the chair and grin lazily. “Ask me anything.”
Joanna rolls her eyes. “Of course, you want me to ask all the questions. Isn’t the point for all of you to compete for my attention?”
“I’m not here for your attention, so why would I do that?”
For a split second, shock flashes across her sharp features, as if I’ve hurt her feelings.
I debate whether or not I should pass it off as a joke, but I don’t think it would make much of a difference.
Just because I agreed to participate in this ridiculous event for Raegan’s sake, doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it.
Once I realized Joanna was the only woman here, my annoyance multiplied. But I didn’t mean to take it out on her directly.
“Good to know,” she says with a scoff. “Now I don’t have to waste my time.” She gets up from her chair and walks away.
I should stop her—that would be the gentlemanly thing to do. Though my statement was honest, I didn’t mean it to come across so harshly. She probably thinks I don’t find her attractive, which I do.
How could I not? Despite her annoying habit of showing up at the most inconvenient times, she’s a beautiful woman.
Her long, chestnut brown hair is silky and straight, her skin a warm ivory, and her lean frame showcases strong muscles from physical labor.
I would bet her thighs could crack me like a walnut, and my traitorous hormones send a pulse to my cock.
I imagine her hovering above me, knees on either side of my head, smothering me with her—
Jesus Christ. Maybe I am here for her attention.
I most definitely find her attractive. It’s the relationship that would never work.
I’ve been alive for one hundred and four years, and there’s no telling how many more.
I gave up on the idea of companionship many decades ago, after accepting the fact that, as much as they might think so, no human woman would be happy growing old next to a vampire who physically ages at the speed of a sloth.
Then there’s the emotional baggage.
No one wants over a century’s worth of my trauma offloaded onto them.
Instead of going after Joanna, I stay sitting like the asshole I am.
I never got the hang of proper inflection when trying to convey my true feelings.
It’s just how I was raised, in a different time, when there was less nuance and more intention.
All I want to do is state things as they are, but sometimes that bluntness can come across as rude—so I’ve been told.
One would think having sixty-five years of stasis to work on this would make a difference, but alas, I am an old dog with no tricks.
I’m not the type of man to chase after a woman—I wasn’t in my first life, and I’m certainly not now. What would I say to her if I did? Apologize? Tell her I find her perfectly appealing, but we could never date, because she’ll die and I’ll have only just started getting gray in my hair?
Vampires aren’t immortal. We don’t live forever, stuck in the body of whatever age we died. Once we turn, time slows tremendously for us. I age one year in approximately a decade of human life. Technically, my body has been approaching its forties for sixty years.
I watch as Joanna joins Raegan and Jamie at the table that’s been set up as a hub for this disastrous event. Jamie narrows his eyes in my direction as Joanna animatedly tells Raegan just how much of a dick I am, and I know I’ll hear an earful about it tomorrow when I grab my morning latte.
Great. Now I’ve upset Jamie as well—the one friend I’ve made in the last decade, and the only one who knows how to make a decent matcha in this town.
I decide that it’s a problem for another time.
I stand up, sliding my chair under the table, then make my way outside, feeling the eyes of everyone on my back.
I slip out the door, ignoring the obnoxious ding from the bell.
I take my time walking back to my apartment, allowing the crisp early-spring night to clear my head and help me forget all about how terribly this evening has gone.
Every few feet, I’m illuminated by the streetlamps like a spotlight, and when I make it to the halfway point, the sky opens and a downpour drenches Main Street.
I curse the weather for further dampening my mood, but I don’t mind getting wet. I’m only three streets away from dry clothes and a quiet evening. I think I’ve surpassed the worst of it, but then I hear someone screeching like a cat caught in a rainstorm.
A blur of motion whooshes past me, and I see Joanna running like a madwoman with her purse above her head as she tries to block the rain. Mind you, the thing is as big as my hand, so it’s not doing a great job.
I rush to catch up with her, but it only takes a few strides. “What the hell are you doing?” I ask loudly to be heard above the sound of pouring rain.
“What does it look like?” she yells back. “I’m running to my car. I had to park a mile away, remember?”
“It’s less than a mile,” I correct her, and silently scold myself for, yet again, always having to state the facts.
But she doesn’t even register it this time. She’s desperately trying to make it to the movie theater, and she’s doing it in a skin-tight dress and heels with hair plastered to the sides of her neck.
I jog alongside her until we make it to her car, and she fumbles through her tiny bag for her keys. She searches for what feels like minutes, meanwhile we’re both getting drenched. I might not have minded getting wet before, but now it’s starting to annoy me.
She turns her face to me with a defeated frown. “I can’t find my keys.”
She looks embarrassed, but I’m not about to stand out here talking about it while we turn into puddles.
I grab her by the arm.
She squeals. “Are you trying to kidnap me?”
“No. My house is right here. Come inside and dry off.”
I watch her debate with herself while continuing to stand in the pouring rain.
“Joanna.” I say her name sternly, and somehow this is what makes her listen.
I lead her down the short set of steps and unlock my door as quickly as my fingers can find the key.
It’s raining so hard there’s now about an inch of water pooling at my door.
Once we slosh our way through the entryway, I run a hand through my hair to push the shoulder-length strands away from my face.
I probably look like a wet mop. I certainly feel like a wet mop.
“Welp,” she starts, hugging herself for warmth, “I officially regret not bringing a coat.”
Though most of my motivation was selfish, I felt badly enough for her fumbling about in the rain that I invited her inside my home, but now that she’s here, standing awkwardly in the foyer with no clue what to do next, I’m starting to question what I was thinking.
I have no dry clothes that will fit her, and even if I gave her something of mine, wouldn’t that be a bit…forward? I probably should have asked if she wanted to come inside, instead of yanking her into my house like a serial killer, but there’s no going back now.
“Do you want to change into something dry?” I ask, trying desperately to make my tone hospitable.
One judgmental eyebrow shoots up her forehead.
“And what would that be? A spare change of clothes from your most recent conquest?” She smiles to herself, believing she’s nailed me as a playboy.
Little does she know, I haven’t been with a woman since the Berlin wall was still standing.
“Do you purposely keep women’s clothing on hand for occasions such as this? ” she adds.
“Such as getting caught in a rainstorm?” I suggest mockingly.
She nods, but I merely smirk in the face of her smugness.
“I don’t know what you think you know about me, but I don’t have conquests.
” Her proud expression falls. “I have nothing that will fit you. But you can wear something of mine. If you want.” I watch for any sign she might recoil from the idea, but her expression remains flat.
Joanna assesses her current state, making note of how the already taut fabric of her dress clings to her in wet patches that leave nothing to my imagination. “I guess…that would be okay.”
I show her upstairs to the loft, given my en suite bathroom has heated floors and the most space.
As we move across my bedroom, I notice her start to take in her surroundings.
Joanna gazes over the balcony that overlooks the den.
She’s curious about how I live, as is everyone in this town.
I swear they all think I sleep in a coffin and live underground because I’m allergic to the sun.
It just so happened the basement apartment came with the movie theater when I purchased it, and I will never give up my California King.
Pointing her to the bathroom, I stop to grab a black T-shirt and joggers from my chest of drawers.
I don’t wear casual attire often, but I’ve learned to invest in comfortable pieces over the decades.
Before I moved to Shadow Hills, I lived across the street from a public gym, so I learned a lot about athletic fashion, or what the younger crowd refers to as athleisure.
“The floors are heated,” I tell her.
One of her eyebrows lifts in confusion. “But you don’t get cold.”
“When I got the house, I asked for all the latest technology. I guess I didn’t realize some of it would be useless.”
I see her holding in a laugh, then she lets out a snort.
I go to hand her the clothing, but she’s already yanking off the tights from underneath her dress. I look away, setting the clothes on the marble countertop. She notices me but doesn’t look embarrassed or bothered in the slightest.
She grabs the zipper at the nape of her neck and I turn to walk away, giving her privacy to change.
“Ouch.” Her voice has me turning back. Her head is tilted at an odd angle, trying to see what’s happening behind her line of vision. “I think it’s stuck in my hair.”
Without being asked, I step closer. Her chestnut locks have indeed caught in the slider of her zipper, but the moment I get too close, I’m caught off guard by something.
Christ what is that smell?
I lean forward just slightly and realize it’s Joanna.
Her scent is so alluring, I feel warm all over.
She smells like sweet, liquid cane sugar, straight from the source, and it takes hold of me like a vice.
I’m trapped by her nearness to me, like an asteroid sucked into the atmosphere of a planet.
Her smell is so fierce, so intoxicating, I forget to breathe, yet I don’t mind the suffocating feeling it elicits.
I swallow hard and try to clear my head. Gingerly, I take the rest of her hair and move it out of the way, draping it over her shoulder. I carefully maneuver the tangled strands until they’ve been freed.
“There,” I say curtly, my breath dusting the back of her neck. Goosebumps rise along her skin, and I tell myself it’s because she’s still in wet clothes.
“Thanks.”
I watch as she reaches around to pull the zipper slowly down her torso. Once it’s halfway, she glances at me over her shoulder.
Will she ask me to stay?
She’s got that look in her eye I’ve seen on hundreds of women—that look that says all the things a man wants to hear—but I don’t know Joanna well enough to interpret it correctly.
She could be toying with me, testing her own limits.
I know some humans find it thrilling to bed a vampire—they imagine it’s like courting death—but just because she thinks she wants it, doesn’t mean it’s what she needs.
And in every other instance, I’ve declined.
But right now, with her beautiful brown eyes somehow piercing through my protective shield, I might consider it.
Luckily, I’m saved from having to make that decision by her next words. “I should get changed now.”
I bow my head and back out of the room, closing the door softly.
While she changes, I decide it’s best not to wait for her in the bedroom, so I go back downstairs and pour myself a drink.
Today has been an anomaly. My day-to-day life is rather dull, but I’ll admit, sparring with Joanna brings a bit of excitement to the monotony.
And after tonight—this is the most time I’ve spent around her, but I don’t find it to be unpleasant.
She’s quite funny, and I respect her ability to hold her own in any situation.
I adjust my trousers and realize I’m hard.
It was as if my sixteen-year-old self suddenly took over in the bathroom.
Staying away from women all these years wasn’t for lack of trying, I just knew there was no point scratching an itch when what I really needed was to heal the wound.
I’ve never wanted short term relationships and stolen moments with little gratification.
Deep down, I want the one thing I can’t have—I want a companion for life.
But I decided a long time ago, it wasn’t worth pursuing, because of my circumstances.
I got used to the idea of being alone. I made do with what I had.
But recently things have changed. I now have a real friend I can lean on in Jamie.
Has this somehow opened up my desire for intimacy as well?
Whatever it was that came over me in the bathroom with Joanna, I can’t seem to shake it. It feels bigger than just lust, but I can’t explain why.
I hear bare footsteps padding back down the wooden stairs, and when I turn to look at her, I’m stunned into submission. There was something alluring about seeing Joanna in a sexy dress, but this…
Her wet hair has been tied into a knot on the top of her head, and her tall, lean frame has been softened by the oversized T-shirt.
She’s rolled my joggers a few times at the waist, because I’m so much taller than her, and she’s no longer wearing those thick heels.
Her toenails are painted a blood red, and I’m almost certain my cold, sluggish heart just skipped a beat.
Joanna in a dress might be sexy, but this version of her is intoxicating. No fuss, just a flawless woman standing in front of me. Out of nowhere, the image of me ravishing her pops back into my head.
Fuck.