First Love: A Superbundle Boxed Set of Seven New Adult Romances (64 page)

"He needs your help," Robb said.

"I am retired from medicine," Vasin said, capping the final vial and sliding the needle out of Robb's skin. Robb pressed the small square of cotton against his skin until it healed up, within a half-second.

"Not that kind of help. He needs the kind of help...the kind of help you give me every few decades."

Vasin peered over the top of his spectacles at Robb.

"Forgive an old man his sentiment," Vasin said. "But I'm rather enjoying my old age, with the long brunches and occasional research. I'm not inclined to meet any more of your kind. From what you've told me, most of them are not so gentle around humans."

"I wouldn't ask unless it was important," Robb said. "Believe me, Vasin."

"I believe you," Vasin said. "But this friend of yours... he
is
a vampire, yes?"

"Yes."

"And he's willing to go through the whole process? Teeth and all?"

"I told him everything," Robb said. Thad had barely listened to him, of course. He had always brushed off pain, but then again he'd never had to have his teeth wrenched out of his head before. A vampire's body was stronger in every way than a human's, and the only way Vasin could perform the operation was with a careful combination of fast-acting drugs and a wrench setup that reminded Robb of a medieval torture device.

"Then I'll get started on gathering the—ahem!—materials. You know, I'll be gone the next time you have to fake your death," Vasin said, his words belying the casual nature of his voice. "What are you planning to do?"

"Not sure," Robb said. "Haven't thought that far ahead." Part of him wanted to escape London and go back to wandering around the world. Then he wouldn't have to worry about aging, or dying, or anything like that. If anyone caught onto him, he could just move. It had been nice to stay here as Robert Chatham and not have his death questioned by anyone, but Vasin was right. Soon the old doctor would die, and there would be nobody left who could help him.

And he would have to abandon his research.

Vasin had been thorough, as thorough as was possible under the circumstances. Robb had gone through a lot of unique dental work with him for each one of his identities. That way the records would match the bodies, if anybody ever cared to check up on them. The pain was one thing, but Robb was extremely careful and did not want to be caught. He preferred living as a young man—it made searching for blood easier, to be sure—and the two previous Roberts Chathams had died early enough to arouse some suspicion. Everything he did he covered up as cleanly as possible, tying all loose ends.

"Thank you for everything," Robb said, pulling on his shirt as Vasin packed the vials up in his bag. "Will you...will this be ready soon?" Thad had been calling and texting Robb nonstop with messages that ranged from concerned to desperate.

"We normally begin planning a month or two out, no?" Vasin arched an eyebrow.

"He needs it sooner. As soon as possible. I'll make it worth your while," Robb added. His fingers scrabbled at the tie, knotting it tightly around his neck. Too tightly. He loosened the tie and started over again.

"Ah, I'm in no need of great riches," Vasin said. "For you, I'll try to have everything ready by this weekend. Acceptable?"

"You're a lifesaver." Damned tie! Robb didn't know how he'd gotten it right the first time.

"I'm not sure that's true in the technical sense, at least in this case," Vasin said, winking. "Now I'll let you be while you get ready for her."

"Who?"

"The girl you have coming over tonight," Vasin said. He reached over and adjusted the knot in Robb's tie with a fatherly smile. "I'm sure you'll make a good first impression."

"I'm not so sure about that," Robb muttered, letting the old man fix the tie.

"I'll be in touch," Vasin said, looking satisfied with his work. "Now you owe me twice."

Robb peered into the wall mirror.

"Adequate?" Vasin asked.

"Perfect," Robb said. He hoped that it was enough to charm Liz after everything that had happened. "Goodbye, Doctor."

"Goodbye and good luck, then," Vasin said. "If you want some advice, though?"

"Yes?"

"Quit chasing after those young models of yours," Vasin said, returning a knowing look to Robb's surprised expression. "Oh, yes, I read the papers. You've always been flighty, and you've always been unhappy, as far as I've known you. Find a nice woman who'll stay with you for a while."

"I'll think about it," Robb said, pasting on a false smirk as he led Vasin to the door.

Stay with a woman for a long time? He hadn't given it a thought at all, not until Liz.

I want to,
he thought,
but I can't. It's too dangerous. She's not mine and she never will be. Just this once, just to get rid of her, and I can go back to living my normal life.

He turned back to his apartment and looked around at the immaculate floor, the exquisitely designed living room decorated with antiques and tasteful glass art. Everything was perfect. Everything, that is, except that he had nobody to share it with.

His stomach grumbled, and he could feel his hollow veins ache for blood.

Chapter Sixteen

Liz stood in the foyer of Robb's apartment, too anxious to knock on the door. She was dressed professionally, her hair tied back into a ponytail. Her dark frizz had resisted all attempts to lay back straight. The only makeup she had on was concealer, a bit of mascara, and the cherry-red lip gloss she impulsively swiped across her lips. She was ready, she thought, for anything.

Now, her stomach leapt into her throat as she stood in front of the doors in the foyer. Should she knock on the lab door or his apartment door? She hadn't thought about it at all while she was coming up in the elevator. She'd been too busy smoothing down her hair and hoping that she looked alright.

"It doesn't matter, Liz," she whispered under her breath. "He's only the project director, and you're an employee. Clear the air, get everything in the open. Then we can be professionals."

She had decided to knock at the apartment door and her hand was raised in the air when the door opened. Robb stood not two feet away from her.

Professionalism went out the window as soon as Liz caught the scent of his cologne. She swallowed hard. If she swooned now, she'd never hear the end of it.

The man had style in every way. His crisp white shirt fitted over his torso just tightly enough to give her the impression of his muscled physique, but the tie and suit pants made the outfit much more formal. Professional. He had gold cufflinks at his wrists. Liz noticed them because she didn't trust herself to look up into his dark eyes.

"Come in," Robb said. He coughed—a nervous cough?—and stood aside to let Liz into the room.

"Thank you," Liz said. She stepped into the living room and did her best to stifle the gasp of surprise that escaped her lips.

She'd glimpsed the shelves of books before, when the door had opened accidentally, but now that she was here she was astonished. The entire room looked like a library, with three of the four walls covered from top to bottom with books. And the last wall—

Liz stepped forward to the middle of the living room. The last wall was made entirely out of glass so that the apartment had an astonishingly clear view of downtown London. The lights of the streets stretched on forever in each direction, twinkling like jewels in the darkness. She took another step forward. The window glass had been cleaned so thoroughly that she seemed to be standing on the edge of a precipice, looking out into the night.

It had started to rain, and the light drops fell against the windowpane and trickled down the glass, distorting the lights and muddling the city's sharp edges.

"This is
beautiful
," Liz said.

Robb came over to her side, a curious look on his face.

"I thought so too, he said. When I bought this place, I wanted to be able to feel as though I was floating over the city."

"You haven't read all of these books, have you?" Liz said, turning her attention to the shelves of books. There must have been tens of thousands of books along the shelves. She ran her finger along the edge of one shelf, looking at the titles. Some of them she expected—textbooks on biochemistry and hematology—but some of them were odd. Novels from the eighteenth century. Books of poetry with spines that looked fragile enough to crumble under her fingertips.

"Not all. A lot of them," Robb said, clasping his hands behind his back. He shifted his weight back and forth, rocking from his heels to his toes. "You, ah—you like poetry?"

"Mostly I just like knocking over stacks of poetry books," Liz said, flashing a smile to Robb before returning her attention to the shelves.

"Ha! About the way we met—I apologize for being a asshole," Robb said.

"I accept your apology."

"But you
did
topple my Browning collection."

"I'm sure Browning is one of your very favorites," Liz said, crossing her arms playfully.

Robb opened his mouth, but instead of arguing, his words came out sensually, passionately, as though he were reciting the verse off of old parchment in front of him:

"My mistress bent that brow of hers;

Those deep dark eyes where pride demurs

When pity would be softening through,

Fixed me, a breathing-while or two,

With life or death in the balance: right!"

He paused then, and blinked, and Liz saw a flash of hesitation in his eyes before he continued. His voice was softer now, and the walls of books absorbed the sound and made the poem seem to be a kind of confession. His eyelashes fluttered down, hiding any emotion in his face. His features were dark, tense, and Liz watched his lips move as he went on.

"The blood replenished me again;

My last thought was at least not vain:

I and my mistress, side by side

Shall be together, breathe and ride,

So, one day more am I deified.

Who knows but the world may end tonight?"

He trailed off there, looking out at the pinpoints of brightness in the dark foggy night. Liz was about to open her mouth when he turned to face her. She did not know what she had been going to say, but it didn't matter. With one stride forward, Robb caught her around the waist and kissed her in a slow twirl. Her breath caught in her throat as he pressed himself against her, and every cell in her body sparked with electric energy when she felt him stir against her stomach.

No
!

Liz pushed herself away from the embrace. The connection between them snapped as their lips broke apart, and Robb stood in front of her, his hands outstretched, looking concerned.

"Wait one second," Liz said. Her thoughts whipped through her brain in a hurricane of confusion.

"Of course," Robb said. He touched her elbow, letting his fingertips run down her arm and to her wrist. She struggled to breathe normally. Pangs of sheer lust threatened to overwhelm her body after that kiss. She hadn't wanted to stop—no, she should kiss him back—no, she mustn't—

"Please," she said weakly. She didn't even know what she was asking for. A moment to breathe. A moment to regain her senses, to make the world clear again. Robb's cologne was so strong! The scent of it dizzied her.

"We can go slowly," Robb said. He put both of his hands up and rested them gently on her shoulders. Liz instinctively leaned forward, then caught herself.

"I don't...I don't think this is right," she said. She was trying to remember the reason that she didn't want Robb to take her to bed. All of her logical reasoning, however, seemed to be overtaken by the warm flashes of desire that kept bringing her focus back to Robb's flushed face and full, eager lips.

"Liz, let's not pretend either of us doesn't want this," Robb said. His hand caressed her cheek and then circled back around, his fingertips teasing the edge of her earlobe. The skin there was so sensitive that she felt that at any second she would faint with pleasure. "Give in. I'll leave the project for now. I'll—"

"No!"

Liz furrowed her brow, her thoughts conflicted with her body's instinct.

"I wanted to work at your lab because it's the best in the world," she said. She heard her own voice rising, growing tense. She felt a million miles away. "You can't sacrifice the project for this!"

"No, no," he said, his tone reassuring. "Not at all. The project will continue, don't worry. I would only leave if you wanted me to. Or if you felt uncomfortable...."

Liz did feel uncomfortable, but she didn't know why. There was something too slick about the way he was talking to her, as though he was telling her what she wanted to hear, nothing else. His desire seemed real enough. That kiss—oh! That kiss!—seemed real enough. As she wavered, he wove her fingers into his and drew her close. She could not help herself from leaning into his embrace. He reached up and gently slid off the tie from her ponytail, letting her hair loose.

"Oh, no, it's a mess—" she said, but he had already plunged his hand into the dark mass of hair. She felt his strong fingers cradle her head, tilting her back as he pressed a kiss to her lips. This time he kissed her lightly, and Liz ached for more pressure as his lips grazed hers, his arms locking her tightly to his chest.

Then he dipped his head and she lost her breath again, this time tumbling through the waves of his kiss. The kiss seized her, sent her head to toes in somersaults of uncertain desire, but oh, yes! Desire!

"God, you taste delicious," Robb said. His fingers grasped her chin and tilted her head back. Robb locked his eyes on hers.

"Like emeralds," he whispered. Something happened then that Liz did not understand. For a brief instant, the veil dropped away from his face and Liz saw his eyes shine with tears. Then he blinked and the curtains drew back over his emotions.

"I don't know what you want," Liz said. Her body was rushing headlong into this, but her brain told her to put on the brakes. "I don't know what this is."

"It can be anything you want it to be," Robb said. His head was bent and then he was kissing her neck, his fingers running through her hair, and then—