Dead Vampires Don't Date (14 page)

Tragically for my hormones, I was not quite up to making a move myself.

Demons run hot. Whether it's an adaptation to living in Hell or a demonic trait, I don't know. Heat poured off his body and threaded its way through mine, cuddling me close.

I couldn't be more comfortable if someone handed me a cold beer, a hot romance and a bag of Dove chocolates. I'd drink the beer separately from the chocolates, but you get the idea.

It kinda weirded me out.

I know about hormones and crazy attraction, that instant surge of lust that has nothing to do with the person and everything to do with pheromones. I'd survived my teen years.

I know about dinner and a movie dates, the occasional sweet holding of a hand and date approved bite swapping. I'd dated a few guys for several weeks before we broke up or they died. I know about all that stuff.

Sitting still on Ash's lap with no expectation of foreplay - or a quickie on the nearest available surface - and simply enjoying the moment, this time, his heartbeat under my ear, the sheer comfort of his presence - was way out of my league.

And yet I could not make myself move.

I loved every millisecond. I breathed in the faint hint of smoke that clung to him. It flooded my senses, tempted cherished memories. Woodsy, nature, home, love. It drew me in and made me think of impossible things
.

This
is what is behind every match, every love, every blending of the souls that I search for.

But I, I'd never yearned, before this moment.

And I didn't know what to do about it. My heart pulled one way, my head the other. I wanted -
longed
- with every fiber of my being, to follow that heart. To dive into him and anything he offered.

But I'm cursed. I've suffered the results of lightly playing around with the idea of a relationship. I didn't want merely the possibilities with Ash. I wanted everything.

I sighed.

Ash's entire body stiffened abruptly. He pulled me tightly into his chest. His big hand came up to cover my head.

"I can't find a trail."

At Morgan's furious announcement, he relaxed.

"What do you mean
you can't
?" His question rumbled under my ear.

"I mean exactly that." I wiggled. Ash lifted his hand. Morgan stomped an angry line back and forth several feet away, hands fisted into pale circles.

"I can't find a trail. Of any sort." She stopped. Her body utterly still. "No scent. No footprints. Nothing."

20. Retracing My Steps.

I held the empty leash loosely as we walked down the sidewalk. The sun pounded down on my head, it added to the free-for-all in my brain. Step,
pain
, step,
heat
, step,
ignore him.

Neither one of us was willing to break the silence. We'd been walking for a good hour. At least. I'd worked another healing spell, but it would take the better part of the day for me to heal completely. The attack last night had taken too much out of me.

Step,
I'm gasping for air with Ash and I haven't even slept with him
, step,
pain,
step,
no trace at all?
, step.

Hell.

"You gonna say somethin'?" Al asked.

"Are you going to talk to me?"

"I'm talkin' now."

I took a breath. We walked several more feet. My head started to pound.

"Yes, you are." I could behave like any other rational witch. "
Right now
." Okay, so maybe not a very nice one.

"I shoulda been there!" He danced ahead several steps, skittered to a stop. "Ya look like hell. I shoulda been there to stop this guy."

"I told you! I don't know who or what it was that attacked me." I couldn't look at his tiny frame. Most of my body continued to throb. If Al had been with me . . . I shuddered.

"That's why ya needed me!" I pictured him in his human body. Tall, wide, probably worked out religiously, harness snug against his kidney, thumb stabbing at his chest.

"Al, we've already been over this." Six times by my count since he woke up and got a good look at my face.

"Fine. I don't want you to date a demon." He rumbled up at me. I looked straight ahead. On to round two.

"A demon? Or Ash?"

"Any demon!" He snapped at a passing fly. I don't think he could help himself. We both ignored his doggy lapse.

"Al, you don't want me to date anyone but you." My teeth ached. "And you're . . ." I snapped my jaw shut. Damn it all.

"Yeah? I'm what?" He sat on his hind end in the middle of the sidewalk. His brown eyes glistened up at me. "Go ahead." He tilted his itty-bitty chin. "Say it."

I stared down at him. At least five feet separated us. That and an entire species.

And all the countless hours we'd shared bound us together.

"I love you, Al." My eyes watered. I'd be a total emotional mess if I survived all this. "I don't want to fight with you."

"Ah, Doll." He walked over, leaned into my leg. I picked him up and he licked my face. "I love ya too."

I knew. That was the problem.

I started to walk again. Movement helped. I didn't put him down, he didn't complain. I think we both needed the physical closeness just then.

"Ya know, I could really use a drink."

Preaching to the Coven. A drink to forget my worries, my pain, my . . .

"The sun is damn hot today. I'd kill for some cold water."

I stumbled. "Right." I coughed. "Cold water does sound good." Anytime Al mentioned the word kill, I paid close attention. Once a hit-man, always a hit-man.

"With a whiskey chaser." Now, he was talking. "That looks like a good place up ahead."

He would not give up on going to a bar. I'm not a lush. I like a beer now and then and the company, but it probably had nothing to do with me. Going into a bar would give credence to Al as something other than a dog.

Two in the afternoon. Whatever dive he'd spotted would probably be open. If I wanted a minimal amount of peace . . .
Spike's
. We'd walked all the way to
Spike's
.

I did a one-eighty. Sure enough, we'd managed to walk close to three miles.
Spike's
was the next building over. The parking lot was empty. The action at
Spike's
obviously didn't start up until dark.

In the light of day, the neighborhood didn't appear as bad as I'd suspected. "Business closed" signs marred the front of a few concrete facades. But not many.

I counted three buildings undergoing construction of some sort. Scoping out the area as far as I could see, the telltale signs were quite obvious. Rural renewal.

The business witch inside of me squealed. The economy hasn't shown many signs of an abrupt about face. Miserably slow covered it better. Writing the rent check for
Love Required
each month doesn't equate to a dance in the park. If I survived, relocating wouldn't be a bad idea.

My clientele changed all the time and a new office, without the lingering stain of death or Ivan, would certainly lift my spirits.

I set Al down and pulled out a notepad and pen.

"You in, Doll?"

I jotted down the last number on the sign pasted to the door of a charming wood-sided building with window boxes. I love window boxes. "What?"

Al tilted his head defiantly at
Spike's
. "I said, you in?"

Damn his short-furred little hide. Al was finally talking to me in a decent manner. He knew I wouldn't risk another argument right now.

I double-checked the area. No bikes or cars lounged anywhere in the parking lot.

"Yeah Al, I'm in."

****

I opened the door. The blinds were pulled on the two windows so the interior of the bar was almost as dark as it had been last night. I scoped out the entire room. I didn't see anyone.

"If the bartender says no, we leave." I whispered to Al. "And if you talk
at all,
I mean it, just
one word
and we leave."

Al grinned. His eyes sparkled. He also didn't say a word. He knew I was serious. His little body vibrated with his excitement.

I don't think he has a problem with alcohol. He likes a nice Chianti with his pasta, but so do I. He does know where I keep the whiskey. I made a mental note to check the levels when I got home, but truly, I think he was just happy to be in a place of human business.

In his furry little mind, he probably saw this as the first step in cementing our relationship. Right now all I cared about was that he listened to me
.

This could really work to my advantage. If we got away with this, I should see about bringing Al to more bars. It gave me something to hold over his obstinate hit-man head. I'm fairly certain Lolly has gotten over being pissed off at Morgan and myself.

Two steps away from the bar, I realized we were
completely
alone.

"I'll be right out." I looked at the open door on one end behind the bar. The deep voice continued, "I'm restocking. I'll be out in a minute."

Al tilted his head up at me.

"No," I said firmly. "No talking inside the bar period." He huffed out a tiny breath.

I sat down on the same stool I'd occupied the night before. It gave me a good view of the front door. I held Al in my arms.

Firm footsteps echoed loudly in the empty room. Mr. Wowza walked through the door. Today he wore a slate gray t-shirt, the same two spiked, leather cuffs on his wrists and possibly the exact same pair of jeans. His certain patches looked even better than yesterday.

Yum. Yum. Yum. I'm not a slutty witch. I merely appreciate beauty wherever I see it. And this man had some very beautiful places indeed.

Al wiggled in my arms. I checked for drool.

"Hello again!" If I am going to ask someone for a favor, I try to lead with my best cheerleading voice. I'd not been on the Black Cat cheerleading squad in high school, nor had I been friends with those witches, but I'd spent plenty of time in front of my mirror imitating them.

Just in case . . .you know, the quarterback should come to his senses and realize he liked me
way better
than that straight-haired little Lana. Don't you just hate the name Lana? It makes me nuts to this day.

"We're on a walk and we both got rather thirsty." What a thrill to tell the truth for once. "Is it all right if I have him in here?" I held up Al. Al blinked his bulging eyes slowly.

Fortunately for us, Mr. Hunky was as much of a sucker as I was. "No problem." He smiled. Beautiful white teeth and a dimple. Not two, just one single, perfect dimple. "We usually don't get anyone in until later in the afternoon."

"Thank you so much. Are you sure your boss won't mind?" I didn't want to get Mr. Delicious in trouble.

"Not a problem. I own the bar." He flashed that dimple at an unappreciative Al. He held out his hand. "I'm Spike. It's nice to see you . . . Damn, are you all right?" I winced. My bruises were fading and in the dim light he obviously hadn't noticed until he came closer. His grip on my hand eased to a light hold, more cradling than holding.

"Did you have a problem with Snake or Terry?" He scowled. He slowly turned my hand over, looking for more bruises before he checked out the rest of me.

"No!" I rushed to assure him. "They were very helpful. I had a run in with a car." I couldn't use the convenient door lie. I had way too many visible cuts and bruises for that. "Luckily, it wasn't moving very fast."

Spike frowned. "Really, I'm fine." His genuine concern pleased me. However, I didn't want him asking too many questions. "The doctor said a nice walk would help with the stiffness." Damn. I was back to lying. And when had I ever considered a lie convenient? My morals were flying right down that toilet bowl of corruptness.

"I'm Kate Storm." I pumped his hand. When he let go, I dug into my pocket and pulled out a card. "I own a matchmaking agency."

A small business owner is always prepared to promote herself. And rack up clients at any moment. I knew for a fact that Terry was single. I hadn't found out Snake's status last night. I am not a choosey matchmaker. Everyone needs love. And I really wanted to get rid of those magazine pages and fill them with actual clients.

"A professional matchmaker?" He studied my card. "Like one of those online dating services?"

"Similar." I kept my smile in place. "Except I provide a hands on, one on one service and my clients are
very
happy with the matches I make for them."

It amazed me that anyone used those sterile services. I don't care how good their questionnaires are, you can't beat a good witch. The horror stories I've heard! Do you have any idea how many people
lie
about their answers? Or about their single status?

An online ID is not that hard to fake, people. And if I have any doubts, I can always provide them with a glass of water and lift their fingerprints. My one hundred percent success rate includes a guarantee that all my matches are legitimate.

Then again, I never have doubts. My spells are never wrong.

"
Very
happy, huh?" His dimple winked at me. "Maybe I should call you."

Yes! "You're single?" I tried not to let my glee show. Glee is very hard to repress.

"For too long." He shrugged, twisting my card around in his fingers. "I work long hours."

"You should call me. I'm very good at what I do." Spike nodded and slid my card into his front pocket. I'm afraid a little glee escaped.
He's perfect!
I swallowed my cackle.

"What can I get you?" He reached over, scratched Al on his head. "How about some cold water for your little friend?"

I squeezed him warningly. Al didn't even try to growl. Sweet Glinda, I'm definitely checking with Lolly.

"We'd both love a glass of water." Al kicked me in the ribs. "With a shot of whiskey on the side."

Spike walked over to the well, filled a glass with ice and water. He reached under the counter and pulled out a small bowl of peanuts. He poured the peanuts into an empty glass, rinsed the bowl and filled it with water. So thoughtful. Another mark in his favor.

He set the bowl and the glass on the counter in front of us. "If it won't bother him, feel free to put him on the counter." He rubbed a thick finger under Al's chin. Big Al lifted his chin as if for more. I almost went into shock. "My sister has a Chihuahua and he always wants to be right in the middle of the action."

"Thank you." I waited until Spike had turned his back before turning Al to face me. He winked. He hadn't channeled away. I wondered what I could use to bribe Lolly? I set Al onto the counter. He lapped at his water. I took a hit off mine.

"Are you taking any pain meds?" Spike held up the whiskey bottle, a small frown on his face.

"No. I didn't need any stitches and the doctor said as long as I didn't stiffen up, I should be fine." Down, down, down into that toilet bowl I go.

Spike poured a generous shot. "That car must have been going really slow." I didn't understand his suspicion.

He placed the shot in between Al's bowl and my glass. "Just leaving a parking lot." Al edged toward the shot. I casually slid it closer to my other side. "Late at night and the street light wasn't working."