Blood Born (17 page)

Wait—maybe she was
already
nuts.

If Chloe had been inclined to tell anyone about the dreams and voices, it would have been Valerie, but she wasn’t ready yet to tell anyone. It sounded too strange,
even to her. Braid, voices, the dream about Grandma Annie and all those warriors … oh, and don’t forget about being attacked last night and almost killed, before being saved by a hunk with long dark hair. But she
did
keep forgetting about it, at least the attacked-and-almost-killed part, which was really weird. She should be a nervous wreck, having flashbacks or something, but she wasn’t. Instead, she felt very mellow about the whole experience, and if
that
wasn’t weird, she didn’t know what was.

When she got to the kitchen she warned the staff about the late arrivals, earning some groans and weary sighs. “Maybe they’ll just order appetizers,” she said. “But regardless of what they order, even if it’s the most complicated item on the menu, we don’t cut any corners.” She knew they wouldn’t; the chef was proud of her work, proud that Katica had a reputation for good food.

She left the kitchen and the first thing she saw was Luca, standing just inside the entrance. She stopped so abruptly it was as if her feet were suddenly glued to the floor. Her heartbeat speeded up, excitement raced through her veins at the sight of him. There was something about him … he simply wasn’t like anyone else she knew. All he was doing was
standing
there, and she had the sudden impression that he was the most dangerous thing she’d ever seen, as if a hungry panther had suddenly strolled into the restaurant. Whether it was the way he moved, so fluid and graceful, or the almost arrogant tilt of his head, the expression in his eyes that said nothing surprised him and he could handle just about anything that came his way—she didn’t know what it was about him that made him so noticeable, couldn’t pin it down. Maybe it was the sum total of all those things.

Valerie was still getting the group seated, the menus
distributed; Chloe signaled to her that she would handle this one, and threaded her way through the tables to the hostess station. She was tempted to do deep-breathing exercises to settle her pulse down, but she was afraid he’d notice. Good lord, if anything, he looked even better than she remembered, she thought as she approached. His long dark hair fell freely around those muscular shoulders, his pale gray eyes glittered in contrast to his olive-toned skin. Tonight he was wearing black pants and a charcoal-colored shirt, and he looked like walking sex. She could feel her heartbeat speeding up, her skin heating in automatic response. His mouth … warm, mobile … the flick of his tongue on her skin—

Good lord, where had that come from? Both horrified and amused at herself, she shoved the thoughts away. Thank goodness he couldn’t read her mind!

“Luca, I thought you weren’t going to make it,” she said, holding out her hand to him, and because she had embarrassed herself with her own thoughts she tried to dampen the warmth in her voice, but she was afraid it came through anyway.

She got the impression that he’d been about to say something but at her words his face went blank and still. She stopped, her smile fading to uncertainty, her hand dropping to her side. “Is something wrong?”

He didn’t reply; instead his gaze moved slowly over her features. The intensity in his eyes made her blush pink, all the more because she felt as if she must have an ink smudge or something on her face. She cleared her throat, summoned up every ounce of professionalism she had, and said, “I believe I promised you a meal you wouldn’t forget. Let me get you settled at a table—” She looked around, saw that a very good table was now empty and clean, and plucked a leather-bound menu from behind the hostess station. “Is there anything you want from
the bar? I’ll put in the order so you won’t have to wait.”

He finally spoke, his voice as smooth and deep as a summer night. “I can’t stay for a meal.”

Chloe stopped in her tracks, unaccountably disappointed. “I know it’s late—Never mind. If you can’t stay, you can’t stay. The offer is good for any night I’m on duty. A glass of wine, then, if you have time?”

He hesitated, that unnerving gaze never leaving her, then he said, “Wine sounds good, but I really don’t have time. I just wanted to stop by and see if you were all right.”

A little frown knit her brows. “Why wouldn’t I be? Oh! You mean last night. I’m fine.” Why wouldn’t she be fine? She’d been scared, but it all seemed very vague now, like something that had happened years ago.

“No bad dreams?”

Startled that he’d mentioned dreams, she jerked back a little. For a moment she was unnerved. What did he know about her dreams?

Then she realized he didn’t know anything, that the question was rhetorical. She gave a short laugh. “Dreams, yes. Bad ones, no.” Dreaming about a braid was a far cry from having a nightmare. She’d been annoyed, not scared.

“Good.” His pale gaze went over her again. “I have to leave now, but I’ll see you again, Chloe Fallon.” Then he turned and walked out the door, quickly fading into the darkness beyond the mellow lights at the entrance.

Huh. Well, that was a letdown. Irritated, Chloe returned the menu to the stack at the hostess station. Why had he bothered to come in if he wasn’t going to stay? And why be so brusque about it? Yeah, he’d thrown in that “I’ll see you again” bit, but she distinctly felt as if she’d just been brushed off.

* * *

Luca barely paid attention to where he was going as he jaywalked across the street. He reached the other side, instinctively blending into the shadow of a tree, then common sense kicked in and he stopped, carefully looking about, reaching out with all his senses to see what was around him. Unless a vampire had arrived during the few minutes he’d been inside the restaurant, he was clear, but sometimes timing was a bitch.

He felt as if he were reeling out of control, a sensation so completely foreign to him that he could barely form a coherent thought. There was no doubt about it, no plausible explanation that there had simply been a slightly longer delay before the inevitable happened; the inevitable
hadn’t
happened.

She remembered him. His face, his name—she remembered. Her expression had lit with recognition the moment she saw him. He’d had his senses dampened, because hearing so many human heartbeats confined in one small space tended to make him hungry, but still he’d heard the hard, solid thump her heart gave, then a radiant smile had lit her pretty face and she’d come straight toward him, her hand held out in welcome as she called him by name.

His throat tightened, and abruptly he found it hard to swallow. In all his long life, that had very rarely happened with the kindred, and certainly not with a human. Most vampires were wary of him, for good reason; whether or not they were able to recognize and remember him made no difference in that. They knew about him, knew he was out there, and knew that if he came for them their long lives were at an end. As for humans, none of them had
ever
remembered him before, so the possibility of being recognized and welcomed had never been on the table.

What was different about Chloe Fallon that the magic didn’t work on her? It wasn’t something he consciously did; it was something that had developed as he matured, as much a part of him as his pale eyes. By the time he’d matured enough that he could endure even the slightest bit of light, and learned how to dampen his painfully acute senses so he could hunt by himself, the magic or power or whatever the hell it was had kicked in. Except for a very brief time, as a percentage of his lifetime, when his parents had formed a somewhat reluctant partnership in order to care for him and see him to adulthood, he hadn’t normally experienced the common state of being that was enjoyed by everyone else in the world, vampire and human alike: that of being known.

He felt … awkward, which was an astonishing sensation for someone over two thousand years old. Before, no one had ever remembered what he said or did, so he hadn’t worried about his behavior. After all, what did it matter? Now, suddenly, he felt as guilty as a misbehaving schoolboy, and he didn’t know why.

She didn’t remember just him, she remembered last night, too
. He had glamoured her. She shouldn’t remember any of it. But evidently she did. Why did she remember last night?

This was wrong. Something was wrong. Either that, or Chloe Fallon was somehow different, on a genetic level, from every other human he’d met over the past two thousand years.

She was a puzzle he’d have to explore, but right now he had the more immediate duty of watching to see who next tried to kill her. He put away all thoughts of the mystery that Chloe represented, instead concentrating on the here and now. He waited, listening, scenting, but nothing unusual registered. Attacking her here would be the least logical place, anyway: too many
people around. Enoch had done it the smart way, waiting for her at home, attacking before she could get inside. Luca would make certain he was there before she arrived, waiting and watching.

    Finally the last customer was gone, the door locked, the restaurant cleaned and ready for the next day. Chloe rolled her shoulders, trying to ease the tension in her tired muscles. Once again, she’d been on her feet almost the entire shift, and had managed to snag roughly five bites of food in the past eight hours.

“Want to try to catch a midnight show?” Valerie asked.

For a moment Chloe was tempted, then reality made her shake her head. “I’m beat. I didn’t sleep much last night, either. All I want to do is get out of these shoes, put my feet up, and relax.”

Valerie’s eyebrows danced. “Can I assume it was a man who kept you from your beauty sleep?”

“Yeah, but not in a good way.” After a pause, Chloe told her friend about the attack, and Luca’s appearance.

Valerie’s full mouth quickly settled into a disapproving frown “You called the police, I hope.”

“No. I wasn’t hurt and I couldn’t really give a description of the guy, so it didn’t make much sense to file a report.” Even as she heard the words coming out of her mouth, Chloe wondered at herself. For crying out loud, she
should
have called the cops, at least made the report.

“For all you know, it was a setup. Those two might’ve been in cahoots. One scares you, the other saves you, and you end up trusting a complete stranger.” Valerie paled a little. “Tell me you didn’t ask him into the house.”

“No,
Mom
, I didn’t ask him into the house.” If she
was going to tell, she might as well tell it all. “I did kind of … ask him to come by so I could buy him a meal.”

Valerie sighed in obvious disapproval. “You told him where you
work
?”

“He already knows where I
live
.”

“Yeah, but …” Valerie pursed her lips. “Sorry. I do kinda sound like your mother, don’t I?”

“Yep.”

“It’s just … we single women have to be careful, we have to look out for each other.” Valerie smiled at the customer who stood, waved, and headed for the door. “So, what did he look like?”

“I told you, I didn’t get …”

“Not the attacker, this Luca person.”

“You saw him. He’s the man who came in while you were seating that last group. He couldn’t stay, though. He just stopped by to see if I was okay.”

Valerie frowned. “I don’t remember anyone coming in. How did I miss that?”

“I signaled to you that I’d handle seating him, remember?”

“I remember you walking that way, but, sorry. Guess I wasn’t paying attention. Anyway, what does he look like?”

Chloe pictured his face, and that odd shimmer danced behind her eyes. “He’s very striking—not pretty-boy handsome, there’s something all
man
about him. Olive complexion, but light-colored eyes. Like I said—striking. At least six feet tall, maybe taller. Long dark hair, down to his shoulders. Strong, but not muscle-bound. Like I said, he isn’t pretty, but he’s definitely hot. Nice ass. Good hands. Really sharp jawline.”

Valerie made a low, humming sound. “Now I’m sorry I didn’t see him.” She smiled. “And going strictly by your description, I have to confess that maybe I wouldn’t have been nearly as cautious as you. I think I would’ve had
to take a chance and ask him in for a drink, or whatever.”

“I was too tired for a drink, and I don’t
whatever
with men I just met.”

Valerie smiled wickedly, her earlier concern gone. “We both desperately need a little
whatever
in our lives.” The smile faded a little. “Unfortunately, unless you buy one at a specialty store, penises come attached to men, who almost always turn out to be more trouble than they’re worth. You’re not taking the Metro home tonight, are you?”

“Nope. For the duration, I’m driving.” Sputtering from place to place was a more accurate description, but since she was off work for the next two days she was going to get her disobedient car to the shop and have that taken care of. “And you’ll be happy to know that I had my pepper spray in my hand.” For all the good it had done her, since she’d dropped it when she was grabbed. But Valerie had given her the pepper spray for her birthday, so she wanted her to know the gift was being put to use … almost, anyway. The intent had been there. Maybe she should also think about buying a taser, but wouldn’t that be overreacting? After all, she hadn’t been hurt, had she? No, she didn’t think so. She couldn’t even find any scrapes or bruises this morning.

On the other hand, was it possible to overreact to being attacked in her own front yard? On the upset scale, that ranked in the upper third, at least. She should definitely be upset; should be, but wasn’t. Weird.

Chloe pushed back that memory. Now would be the time to tell Valerie about the voices, if she was going to take that step. It was hard to admit even to a good friend that she hadn’t slept in days, weeks, that she was hearing voices and having weird, vivid dreams that made her question what was real and what was not.

Even though she had almost decided the cause of her
auditory hallucinations was physical, not psychological, there was one detail that gave her pause. She only heard the voices when she was home alone. Never at work, or on the drive or walk home. Chloe had to wonder: if she had invited Luca in last night, if she had asked him to stay, would she still be questioning her sanity and her health today? Would a visitor, any visitor, bring blessed silence to her home?