Chapter 42
Dinner with Vampires
The dream was beautiful—at first.
Karson stood dressed in a suit at the bottom of the stairs.
I walked down, wearing a white floaty gown.
He looked up and smiled. I felt my heart race and my knees weaken at the sight of him.
Then, suddenly I was falling, rushing, spiralling wildly toward him.
He leapt through the air to catch me, but now the smile was gone and in its place was a predatory hunger.
His eyes glowed red-orange, as if fire lived inside, and his fangs sliced through the pale light and came at my neck.
I jerked awake and then I caught a glimpse of a figure at the end of my bed. I erupted into a seated position, my fists balled, wild eyed.
Karson said casually, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
My hands flew to my thrumming heart. “Christ, Karson, how long have you been standing there for? Don’t you know how to knock?”
“Long enough to see you had a nightmare. And, given you are sleeping in my room, I didn’t think I’d have to knock.”
His room? No wonder I could smell him on the sheets. I groaned, swung my legs over the side and climbed to my feet. “Sorry. I didn’t know it was your room.”
“It does not matter, you’re going home later tonight, I just came to tell you dinner will be served shortly.”
“Dinner? What time is it?” I glanced out the window, surprised to see the sun was caught in mid-balance over the hills in the distance. I rubbed my eyes with the balls of my hands and yawned.
“Seven. Dinner is at seven-thirty. Come down when you have freshened.”
“As long as I’m not dessert,” I blurted out. I could have bit my own tongue off. I stared at him nervously.
But he smiled, one of his heart-dropping smiles. It reached his eyes and it was like the last rays of sunlight kissed my veins. He opened his mouth, as if there was a comment planted on his lips, but he thought better of it and it was left unspoken. He glanced out the window.
The sky was beautiful tonight. There was a multi-coloured array of pinks and mauves as if perfectly woven by a skilled artisan.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it,” I murmured.
“It is,” he agreed. There was something intimate about his tone that made me glance up.
Karson stared at my face. He seemed to drink in every detail as if I was the sunset, and he the artist.
I could barely draw a breath. His gaze was an invisible finger stroking my skin, wrapping around me and pulling me in.
Between my legs vibrated with want. I clenched my knees together to stop the scent drifting to his nostrils.
Feeling awkward, I tore my gaze away, pretending the sky held more interest than the man beside me.
I turned back to speak, and Karson was gone.
I stared at the door, it was closed. Not only didn’t I realise he’d left, I didn't even hear it close.
I headed to the bathroom and peered in the mirror. My hair was a disaster. Birds would happily build their nest there. I had bags under my eyes and my skin paler than ordinary. No wonder he’d told me to freshen.
I showered, washed my hair and blow dried it a little to remove some of the dampness. I put some makeup on, threw on a skirt and top. I realised my legs needed shaving, glanced at my watch, it was seven twenty-five. If I was fast, I could still be downstairs by seven-thirty.
I got out the razor, cocked my leg on the marble vanity, splashed a bit of cold water on it and slipped the razor up quickly.
I grimaced as the razor sheared off skin.
It was only a fingernail width in size, but the blood seeped—and continued to seep—like I’d stabbed myself with an inch-thick pocketknife.
I sighed. I opened the draws to find a Band-Aid.
It was empty. No toothbrush, no perfume, no shaving gear, no moisturiser; nothing.
I guessed vampires didn't need any of those things—did they not grow facial hair?
It was a weird concept to grasp. Karson always smelled amazing.
I assumed it was a perfume, was it possible it was his own natural scent?
There were no Band-Aids, no surprises there.
A breath of wind whispered against the back of my neck. Pins prickled down my spine.
I spun, to see Karson behind me.
“Seriously, if you don’t stop doing that, never mind about vampires getting me, you’re going to give me a heart attack!”
“This.” He snapped the shaver from my hand. “Goes in the bin while you are here, do you understand!” He pressed the lid of a little bin with his foot and tossed it in with a look of disgust and anger on his face.
“What?” I stared up wide-eyed, then it dawned on me. He was telling me I wasn’t safe if I bled in front of him. Fighting the urge to step back, my heart beating thickly in my chest, painfully conscious of the slow trickle of blood running down my shin, I managed to mumble, “Sorry.”
“I can control myself, I have had years of practise, but others cannot, and your scent is enough to drive them wild.” His eyes blazed, hotter than the midsummer sun.
I stood staring at him like he was my high school teacher giving me a rebuke. "How did you even know?"
“I can smell it. Monique and Michael are here, we are waiting for you . . . wipe it off.” He glared at the spot of blood on my leg like it offended him.
“Smell it? Just how good is your sense of smell?” I asked incredulously.
“Better than yours . . . do you have a plaster?”
I shook my head.
He sighed and his eyes softened a fraction. “Mary will have one in the kitchen, wait here.”
Like I was going to go anywhere with blood on my leg and Monique and Michael in the house.
“Jesus, wouldn’t want to do anything as human as bleed,” I muttered, holding the paper hard against the graze.
He came back moments later and handed me a Band-Aid. “Come down when you are ready.”
Which I figured was code for ‘when you have stopped bleeding, human.’
I headed downstairs some ten minutes later.
The band aid covered the offending wound.
My legs were only half shaved. I heard a chatter of voices coming from the sitting room.
I felt my anxiety climb as I neared. Dinner with vampires, would they feast on blood while we ate normal food? The thought was sickening.
Breathe, breathe, breathe.
The chatter stopped and there was a moment of awkward silence when I walked in.
Monique and Michael were perched on the couches opposite each other.
It was evident they didn’t want me to hear their topic of conversation—or perhaps I was the topic of conversation.
I cleared my throat and clasped my hands together.
Karson stood by the fireplace, regarding me with an open curiosity.
Michael sat his drink on the coffee table and stood up, wearing dark pants and a black t-shirt, revealing a leather necklace with a silver pendant and a tanned, sleek chest. His beauty, like Karson’s, was enough to make any woman’s heart flutter.
I presumed they were designed by nature like this to draw their prey.
Like a glow worm on a cave wall, the insects drawn by the beauty of their light, only to become dinner.
Michael kissed my hand. “Amelia, you look radiant tonight.”
Monique turned her head away and pursed her lips.
Were they a couple? I had not seen exchanges of affection between them, but they seemed to arrive and leave together, and she was most definitely annoyed when he paid me attention.
The thought left my mind when Dahlia walked in, dressed exactly as she had been the first night in the bar, all black.
She was incredibly sexy, in a lethal, don’t-mess-with-me way.
“Dahlia, lovely to see you, you look gorgeous, as always,” Michael said.
“Michael, I wish I could say the same.”
He smiled. He made no attempt to reach for her hand.
Karson stepped toward the door, he indicated with his hand. “Shall we?”
I followed them in and paused just inside.
The table was full of food. No decanters of blood, which was a relief.
There were three lit silver antique candelabras placed evenly down the table.
The lighting was dim, the side door was open, the sheer white curtain caught by a gentle breeze floated in softly.
The room held an elegant, romantic vibe.
I studied Karson as he pulled up the end chair and sat down, I wondered if the room were an unconscious reflection of a part of his soul he kept buried somewhere beneath the tough exterior.
Michael pulled a chair out for Dahlia, indicating with his hand for her to sit.
Ignoring him, she grabbed a plate, knife and fork and moved behind him, seating herself at the end of the table.
It was a huge table, she would be a long way away.
I didn’t know where to sit, all the plates were set up on one end.
Next to Karson or Michael? I didn’t want to sit anywhere near Monique.
They all sat down. Delaying the process for as long as possible I picked up a yellow rose and smelled it, all thorns had been removed, cinnamon and honey floated in my nostrils.
“What’s the matter, Amy—are you scared we’ll bite?” Monique said in a way that suggested she might like to.
Yes. My stomach twisted. I didn’t respond. I placed the rose back in the vase.
“You sit beside me, Amy,” Dahlia ordered.
I collected a plate and knife and fork and found a place about halfway down the table.
The smell of lamb, freshly sliced and still misting, rolled up my nose and made me feel nauseous.
They began serving from the various plates.
Monique forked pieces of meat, still dripping with blood, onto her plate. I had to look away.
“Are you expecting more guests, Karson?” I asked.
“No, why?”
“How much do you eat?”