Dying to Date (2 page)

“Very,” he said. “This agency was recommended by a friend who had success here.”

“They have a high match rate,” she agreed.

“Yes, I remember reading a story about your father finding his mate here, did he not?”

She arched a brow. “You recognized me?”

“Few in our world would not.”

“Then you have me at a disadvantage, I’m afraid. I’ll have to learn more about you.”

Another grin curved his lips. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

A click of heels in the hall signaled the arrival of the grand architect of the agency. Vivian rounded the corner in all her siren glory. For the first time, Melissa felt a twinge of jealousy when looking at the other woman. She was all generous curves and long platinum hair. Her very nature was to seduce and bewitch, and Vivian was a master of all the tricks.

“Hello there,” she purred, stepping forward. “Welcome to Fated Match. I’m free to see you now if you’d like to start the registration process.”

“Excellent,” Tarian said. Looking back at her, he inclined his head. “It was very nice to meet you.”

“And you.” Her fingers found her business card automatically, and she held it out. “In case you decide not to join,” she said.

He pocketed the card with a smile. “I promise to use it.”

With a last look, he turned to follow Vivian down the white hallway.

She and Chloe both craned their necks for a last glimpse of him until they heard Vivian’s door click closed.

“Good god,” Chloe exhaled.

“You had better tell Abbey I want the full scoop the moment he’s registered.”

“Get in line, honey,” she replied. “That man is going to be in high demand.”

And with her luck, she’d probably get a low match rating with him.

“What do you think he is?” Chloe mused.

Melissa shook her head. “No idea but he had a pulse.”

“And magic. Not a witch, though. I would have felt the connection.”

“A were?”

Chloe shrugged. “Maybe, but not a wolf. They have a far more primal energy to them.”

“Well, if he signs up we’ll know soon enough.” She rapped her knuckles on the counter. “Remember, tell Abbey I’ll be expecting her call.”

The witch tossed her a grin. “It pays to have inside access, eh?”

“Fingers crossed.”

Melissa left the office with a smile on her face. Whatever the hell Tarian was, she sure hoped he’d be hers.

Even if only for a night.

Chapter Two

A buzzing vibrated from her purse. Fishing out her phone, she saw Abbey’s number on the screen.

“I expected your call last night,” she said in greeting.

Abbey chuckled. “I know. Tarian’s intake took a bit of time, and I didn’t think there was any point calling during the day while you slept.”

“Fair point.”

“Are you at the office?”

“Yeah.” Her fingers flew over her the keyboard on her laptop. “I’ve got the website up.”

“Search him.”

It barely took a minute before she was staring into the icy blue gaze of his profile picture. Finding the large red match button at the top of the page, she clicked it. The damn color pinwheel spun while she waited for the page to reload.

“Do you see it?”

“Just a sec,” she replied as the page refreshed.

“A 90 percent match,” Abbey said evenly, and the new page came up on Melissa’s computer.

She blinked at the screen. Fated Match advised only contacting members with a match rating of 75 percent or higher. Ninety was as excellent as it was rare.

“That’s amazing,” she breathed.

“I know,” Abbey replied. “And since you just purchased five more handpicked dates, I can guarantee you’ll be at the top of his match list.”

“Excellent news,” she said. “Set it up, and I’m there.”

She scrolled through his profile, skimming the information present. One section, however, was curiously blank.

“Uh, Abbey?” she asked. “What species is he?”

There was a pause. “Well, that’s the thing. He didn’t want to disclose his age or race.”

“What?” She hadn’t even been aware that was an option.

“Yeah, we tried, trust me, but he was pretty firm. Said he wanted to meet people who were interested in him and not his bloodline.”

“But…” Some of her joy drained away. “That’s a red flag, no?”

“Your call,” Abbey said. “He seemed nice enough to me.”

She tapped her foot. On the one hand, she really didn’t have many restrictions on who she’d date. On the other, the few she had were important.

“What are they odds that he’s one of the death races?”

“Slim, I’d say. He was pretty tanned for a vamp, and you touched him, right? Not a phantom.”

“Right,” she agreed. “I’m being silly. He could be a dancing bear, and a 90 percent rating would still warrant a meeting.”

“Good girl. Okay, let me run this through the proper channels, and I’ll try to set something up.”

“Great. Thanks, Abbey.”

“No problemo. Ciao.”

After ending the call, she dropped the cell back into her purse.

She lounged back in her chair as she scrolled through the profile. Most of his information was pretty basic. His occupation was listed as something in the financial world. He’d recently moved to the city, and he was allergic to shellfish. Nothing about him screamed serial killer. She was probably fine.

“As long as you’re not a demon,” she said, minimizing the screen. Or a necromancer. She nearly laughed at the thought.

Pushing from her seat, she crossed her spacious office to gaze out the large windows that lined the walls. Outside, the city glittered with a million artificial lights. How times had changed.

In the reflection of the window she saw her sleek, minimalistic office. Lucian had given her this small corner of the Redgrave Foundation building years ago to help her better manage her various organizations and responsibilities. Though she spent most of her nights in this room, it was anything but warm. Like most vampires, she kept her space free of personal mementoes. While she did have a few black-and-white pictures of her mother, they stayed in a keepsake box beneath her bed rather than on display. Vampires jealously guarded their pasts, especially the stories of their transformation. Information like that could expose a weakness, and that’s one thing her kind could not abide.

“Ms. Redgrave?”

She turned to see her administrative assistant poking her head through the glass door.

“Your eleven o’clock is here about the children’s aid fundraiser.”

“Show her in, Mary,” she replied, moving back toward her desk. Most of her nights were filled with such meetings. The reps for supernatural charities had no problem working with her late hours, and many of the human ones had grown accustomed to humoring her. With the money the Redgrave family donated, they’d meet her anywhere, anytime.

“Ms. Sherman,” she greeted her appointment as she strolled in. “Please be seated.”

Wondering about the mysterious Tarian Drake would have to wait. Tonight she had more pressing matters to attend to.

…

“Well, you people move fast, I’ll say that for you.”

A young, female voice chuckled into the phone. “Your profile has been extremely popular, Mr. Drake. However, since you’ve already met Ms. Redgrave in passing, I thought I’d offer to match you two up for your first assigned date.”

Tarian twirled his pen around his fingers, thinking of the tasty vampire.

Like most of her kind, she was stunning. It wasn’t a matter of the race turning only attractive mortals but rather an outcome of the lifestyle. Having been hidden from the sun for years, Melissa’s hair had darkened into a blood red he found oddly fascinating. Her skin was perfect alabaster, with not a single freckle to be found. Her body had been slender and lithe, also a side effect of her nature. Without a diet of high fat and sugary foods, vampires tended to lose weight in the months after their transformations and had no way of putting it back on. While he preferred his women with more curves, he couldn’t fault her for something beyond her control.

But it was those eyes, those piercing emerald-green eyes that had radiated intelligence and lust that had haunted his dreams last night.

“Yes,” he said. “I’d be inclined to see her.”

“Excellent.” The matchmaker sounded downright gleeful. “Would Friday work?”

“It should.”

“As a new member, I’ll expect you at seven-thirty to go over the rules of a Fated Match pairing. A car will take you to Celeste’s for your eight o’clock date.”

“I look forward to it,” he said, jotting down the appointment. “See you then.”

Disconnecting, he let out a sigh.

This could get very tricky, very fast.

“Tarian?” a voice called from beyond his door.

“Come in,” he said.

The wooden door opened, and his sister stepped into the study. “I heard you talking,” she said as she crossed the carpeted floor to his side. Dropping into the armchair that matched his, she curled her legs under her and gazed at the old fireplace.

“Isn’t it a little warm for a fire?” she asked.

It was, but Tarian enjoyed firelight rather than the harsh fluorescents that were so popular nowadays. “What can I do for you, Eilin?”

“The rumors are growing,” she replied, her voice subdued. “People are calling for sides to be chosen.”

Tarian rubbed a hand down his face. “We stay out of it as we always have. The last place we want to be is caught between the vampires and our kin.”

She wrapped her arms around her knees, resting her chin on top of them like she’d done as a child so many years ago.

A soft smile curved his lips as he gazed at his sister. No matter how many decades they lived, to him she’d always be the chubby little blonde baby that had followed him around all day, every day.

“Are they wrong?” she whispered finally, staring into the fire. “The vampires have pushed us to the edge of society for centuries. If we want a real life, isn’t it worth fighting for?”

“We have a real life.”

She shot him a glare. “If we keep what we are secret. We have to pretend to be human half the time.”

“It’s better than the alternative.”

“Is it?” She pushed to her feet. “Grandfather says—”

“You’re too young to remember the wars,” he cut her off, rising. “The vampires are an ancient and powerful faction. Add to that the fact that these are modern times, equipped with social media, camera phones, and zero anonymity. Taking them on now might risk exposing the supernatural world to the humans.”

Eilin threaded her fingers through her ringlets. “How can you not hate them?”

Melissa’s face flashed across his mind, and he glanced away from his sister. “Once I hated them, for longer than you’ve been alive,” he replied. “And you know what good came out of it?”

She shook her head.

“Death. That’s all. Nothing changed. It never does.” He ran a hand through his hair. “So what is the use of hate?”

“You need to take a stand,” she charged. “Nothing will ever change if we don’t try. We have to make the ruling vampires listen to us.”

“And how do you suppose we do that?” Tarian said, not bothering to hide his amusement.

This time she didn’t answer.

“Eilin?”

“I don’t know,” she replied. “But grandfather has a plan.”

A chill went down his spine. He still remembered the screams of the dying the last time they faced off against the vampires. No matter what his brethren decided, he wasn’t letting Eilin get caught up in their nonsense.

“I think it’d be best if we avoid grandfather’s calls for the time being,” he told her. The man had never had much contact with them, but it seemed the limited time Tarian had allowed Eilin was still enough to inflict her with rebellious zeal. “There are always better solutions. Peaceful ones.”

She wouldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m not ashamed of what I am.”

“And you think I am?”

Silence.

Anger curled through him. Casting out his hand, magic poured from his palm to flood the room. The stag head mounted on the wall above the fireplace shook its antlers as it sprang to life. It let out a guttural cry, calling for its kin.

“Grandfather is powerful,” he said, his voice low. “But so am I. I’m not ashamed of my gift, Eilin, I’m cautious.” Releasing his magic, the stag stopped moving and returned to its original frozen position.

“Oh yeah?” she asked. “I know you joined that dating site. Tell me, brother, what did you list as your race?”

He stiffened.

“I’m betting it wasn’t necromancer,” she taunted. “So please, tell me again how proud you are of your heritage.”

Knowing she’d gotten the final word, Eilin strode from the study with her head held high.

Tarian fell back into his chair. He’d hoped New York would be a fresh start for them. A chance to get his sister away from the influence of their family.

But it seemed no matter where a necromancer ran, his problems followed.

Gazing into the fire, he thought of the woman with blood-red hair. Seeing her again was dangerous. Especially given her last name.

It’s not worth it,
his inner voice cautioned.
There are other women.

Some other woman who wouldn’t mean risking expulsion from the city if she ever discovered exactly what he was.

But there was no other woman who made him burn with a single touch. Walking into the agency, all he’d seen was her. All he’d wanted was her. When was the last time he’d had such a strong desire for anyone?

“It shouldn’t matter what I am,” he growled at the fire. He was so much more than his death magic. Not that anyone ever bothered to look deeper.

Even Melissa would run if she knew the truth, and he was sick of being vilified just because of his blood. How many chances had he walked away from? How many missed opportunities for a fulfilling life?

“Not again,” he vowed. He’d come to New York for a new start and by God he’d get one. If dating a vampire wasn’t a radical change, he didn’t know what was.

“I’ll see you Friday, Melissa,” he said, saluting the flame.

For better or for worse, he was done with skulking in the shadows.

Chapter Three

Here’s hoping this date turned out better than her last three, because she could sure as hell use a pick-me-up. Melissa sat in Celeste’s, staring around the elegantly decorated restaurant. Just last night she’d been in an equally stylish establishment meeting with her father and Abbey.

She’d been looking forward to the evening, since she’d seen less and less of Lucian after he’d fallen for her human friend. The prospect of a nice family dinner was one she’d been excited about.

Until Lucian had launched onto his favorite topic—new security measures. Hours that should have been spent catching up had been reallocated to an endless lecture on how she should be protecting herself. He’d even suggested she put her charitable projects on hold and leave the city for the next few weeks, until the necromancer situation was more stable.

Melissa rolled her eyes. Though she was a century old, she’d always be his little girl. The accident that had led to her transformation had also killed her mother, a woman Lucian had loved dearly. Her mother had refused Lucian’s offer to live with fangs, and her father had been unwilling to lose them both. A hundred years later and he was still doing everything he could to keep her safe, no matter how strong she’d grown in her own right.

Melissa downed the last of her water. She needed to relax. Tarian wasn’t responsible for her terrible mood. She just needed to figure out a way to prove to Lucian she could take care of herself.

“A problem for another day,” she said, smoothing a hand over her red dress. She’d chosen the color to complement her hair. It didn’t hurt that the tight material highlighted the few curves she did possess. Not for the first time, she envied Abbey’s curvaceous figure.

Though she could consume food for show, it had no effect on her body. She wasn’t able to absorb any of the nutrients she needed to survive. Only blood sustained her. Luckily Celeste’s was used to catering to a supernatural clientele.

Her sensitive hearing picked up an increase in the human chatter, and she glanced up.

It was easy to see what had caused the commotion.

Tarian threaded his way through the tables, moving like a shark through water. His dark suit added to the severity of his appearance. Nothing softened the icy perfection of his beauty. But despite the fact he looked like he’d be comfortable heading a hostile boardroom takeover or stalking prey through a dark night, the humans in the restaurant were unable to look away.

Nor am I,
she thought, butterflies fluttering in her stomach. Tarian appeared oblivious of the stir he was causing. He had eyes only for her.

It’d been a long time since she’d been the center of such intense focus.

When he came close, she slipped to her feet.

“Hello, Tarian,” she said, kissing the air above each cheek.

“Melissa.” His hands traced lightly over her waist, but she felt the heat of his touch even through her dress.

“Am I late?” he asked, taking his seat. “Traffic was difficult.”

“I got here early,” she replied. “You’re right on time.”

A slight grin twisted his lips. “Couldn’t stay away, hmm?”

There was no way the heat rising to her face could be a blush. She hadn’t been flustered by a man in decades.

“What do you recommend?” he asked, picking up his menu.

Melissa shrugged. “Not really my forte but I hear the steak is good.”

He glanced at her over the top of the menu. “Would you prefer to go somewhere else?”

“Oh no, I’m used to this. I’ll just order an appetizer and pretend to pick at it all night.”

Tarian arched a brow but made no further comment. “So you’ve been on Fated Match pairings before?” he asked as he perused his options.

She shook her head. “I only recently joined.”

“Lucky me. I won’t have years of competition to outdo.”

She took a sip of water to hide her smile.

The waiter appeared at their side and took their orders. Melissa requested a salad for show and a glass of “fortified” wine. Though it appeared like a normal glass of red to an outside, human audience, in reality the liquid had the thicker consistency of blood.

“I must confess,” Tarian said when the waiter left. “This is my first date through the agency. I just spent the past thirty minutes being debriefed on the dos and don’ts of the practice.”

“Oh?” she asked. “What were some of the pitfalls to avoid?”

“It seemed that most of the rules revolved around minding my manners. Any sort of power or influence is banned on a first meeting. I’m to avoid controversial subjects like transformations, history in general, and interspecies politics.”

“Do they suggest we discuss the weather and comment on safe topics such as the best places to see in the city or the adorable habits of mortals?”

“That would ensure I don’t give any offense,” he agreed.

“I’m not easily offended,” she replied. “And Fated Match seems to have outlined the perfect recipe for a dull date.”

“We wouldn’t want that.” His gaze bored into hers, though the half smile never left his lips.

“No,” she purred. “We wouldn’t.”

The chatter around them fell away as she had eyes only for the man across from her. Again her body pulsed with anticipation. Had she been human, her heart would have been racing. Usually these dates were easy to guide. God knew she had more than enough practice at polite chitchat, but Tarian stole the words from her. She didn’t want to speak of nothing. Instead a desire to know him filled her. Never before had she reacted so strongly to a man, and she needed to figure out just what it was about him that drew her. Was it a 90 percent rating thing, or was it something uniquely Tarian that drew her in?

Breaking her gaze, he reached into his briefcase. “I was also informed Fated Match follows the old tradition of intention gifts.” He withdrew a small pink box and held it out to her.

Melissa accepted the package, which fit in the palm of her hand. She recognized the Fated Match logo stamped over the wrapping paper. In fact, she’d seen hundreds of identical boxes in Abbey’s office. It was an old tradition, to be sure, but in times gone by supernatural creatures used to give little tokens to signal they were pursuing each other with a more permanent relationship in mind. Today Fated Match offered a discount gift service to members. A yearly fee would entitle the bearer to a gift box per date, all the items carefully selected by the Fated Match team to pair appropriate objects with the proper species requirements.

Her first dates through the agency had given her trinkets like small knickknacks or bottles of hand lotion. It was the intention that was important, more than the actual gift.

“This is very sweet of you,” she said, pulling at the light-pink ribbon.

The sides of the box parted, and she wondered what lay within. Her money lay on the ever-popular scented candle.

But something shiny caught her eyes instead. Parting the folds of the box, she saw a beautiful silver bracelet nestled in the pink tissue paper.

“It’s lovely,” she breathed. This was no pre-selected Fated Match gift but one he had obviously thought of himself. Its beauty, however, didn’t change one very large complication. “I love it. Really I do. But I can’t keep it.”

No expression crossed his face. “Why?” he asked as he took a sip of his wine.

“Silver,” she explained. “It burns my kind. I always wanted silver jewelry, but it’s not possible for vampires.”

“No?” He took another sip. “Touch it.”

Melissa glanced up. “Silver feels like acid.”

“Trust me.”

Her eyes narrowed. What sort of game was this? It wouldn’t help his cause to burn her on a first date. “I don’t know you,” she said. “Trust would be extremely foolish.”

He held her gaze without comment. Melissa knew she should be handing the box back, but her fingers curled possessively around the paper. The urge to throw caution to the wind and trust him gripped her. As silly as it was, she wanted to take a chance on something new and different.

“I promise you won’t get hurt,” he assured her. “It was made for you.”

She looked back to the delicate chain. It was a piece of art with its intricate Celtic design. She’d love to own a piece of jewelry like it.

Before she could think through the logic of her actions, Melissa lifted a hand toward the box. She hesitated a moment when her fingers hung over the gleaming surface. With one finger, she gingerly stroked the metal.

Nothing happened.

“What?” she said, shock swirling through her.

“It’s spelled,” he explained as he reached over and picked up the bracelet. “Allow me?”

Holding out her hand, Melissa watched as he clasped the silver around her wrist.

“I haven’t owned silver in over a century,” she said, still unable to believe her skin wasn’t burning. “How did you do this?” If silver could be spelled this way, there was a fortune to be made in the jewelry market among her kind.

“Family secret,” he replied. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” she said sincerely. “I think it might be the loveliest gift I’ve received in years.”

“Excellent.” He didn’t release her wrist but trailed his fingers over her skin instead. “My matchmaker told me first impressions were important.”

“You already made your first impression back at the agency,” she replied, allowing her fingers to play over his skin as well.

“True. Must have been good for you to agree to meet me.”

“We have a great match rating,” she reminded him.

“Algorithm,” he said. “I’m not sure how much stock I put in that.”

“You think we aren’t a good match?” She trailed her fingertips across his palm.

Heat flickered in his sapphire gaze. “On the contrary,” he murmured. “Rating or not, I would have called you. The computer system is helpful, I suppose, but it doesn’t replace seeing someone for the first time and knowing.”

“Knowing what?”

A smile flashed over his face. “That she should be yours.”

Desire shot through her. Oh yes, she knew exactly what he meant. Just as it had at Fated Match, proximity to this man filled her head with scandalous urges. Something about him resonated with her in a way no other man had accomplished in quite some time. If ever.

“Excuse me. Your meals,” the waiter interrupted, appearing at their side.

Tarian released her, and she reluctantly drew her hand back.

A garden salad, which actually looked quite good, was set before her. Melissa knew from experience, though, that the leaves would be utterly tasteless if she put one in her mouth.

Instead she reached for the red glass the waiter had brought.

The first sip was ambrosia. Her eyes closed in pleasure as the warmed liquid washed over her tongue. Though she loved Abbey dearly, the mortal had never really understood her craving for blood. No human could. After the transformation, a single drop tasted like the best feast one had ever eaten as a human. To her, truly good blood almost reminded her of her first taste of chocolate.

“Good?” Tarian asked as he cut into his meat.

“Superb. I don’t know what they infuse into the blood here, but maybe I should try hiring their cook.” Melissa glanced at the glass in her hand before looking back to her date. “Does this bother you?”

He arched a brow as he chewed. “What do you mean?”

“Some people don’t really approve of vampires eating in public.” She’d dated a werewolf once who had insisted she only ever feed alone behind closed doors. He’d been scandalized by the idea that she’d love to bite him.

Tarian, however, looked unfazed. “I would never presume to tell a vampire when and where to commit an act they need to survive.”

A sigh of relief escaped her. “Good to hear.”

“I’ve never been uncomfortable around the world of death,” he said, taking another bite. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

Except his words sparked a different kind of worry. “How comfortable are you, exactly?”

Another grin flashed her way. “Fishing for information, are we?”

“You have to admit, leaving your species section blank is going to raise some eyebrows.”

“I don’t want to be known just for my blood,” he replied. “Don’t you sometimes wish you could walk into a room and not be immediately recognized as Melissa Redgrave, vampire socialite?”

He had a point.

“Okay,” she replied, taking another sip. “Just promise me your race is nothing dangerous that I should know about.”

An emotion flashed across his eyes, but it was gone faster than she could track. “Promise,” he said with a smile. “You’re safe with me.”

Melissa refrained from pointing out she was safe by herself. Her fangs and claws were sharp, and she had years of defense training under her belt. In fact, men’s urges to see her as a delicate princess only served to piss her off on most occasions.

Which is why the warmth flooding her had to be pleasure from the blood and not from this stranger’s words.

“All right then,” she said. “If you are determined to be mysterious, then tell me what you think I should know about you.”

He tilted his head to the side as he thought. “What you see is pretty much what you get,” he said. “I’m a rather average man.”

“Granted I’ve spent only a brief time with you, but average is not the word I’d use.”

His eyes flicked up to hers, and her grip tightened on the wine glass. Something about his gaze seemed to see into her. She didn’t know if it was his magic or just simply him, but one thing was certain, nothing about this man was normal.

“Thank you for that,” he said. “But I assure you my life is pretty staid. I moved east with my younger sister a few weeks ago. We were looking for a fresh start, and I hadn’t been to New York since before the Empire State Building went up.”

“It was quite the feat to watch,” she said, remembering the wonder of its construction.

“I spent one lifetime as an architect,” he told her. “It was possibly my favorite profession.”

“But now you are in finance?”

He nodded. “A failing economy is bad for supernaturals as well as humans. I have the skills to be useful, so why not work in the sector for now? Perhaps I’ll go back to architecture in a few decades.”