The Vampire Shrink(16)
Author: Lynda Hilburn

I hadn't noticed through my brain fog earlier, but Luna was an exceptionally attractive woman. In fact, finding out that this femme fatal was Devereux's personal assistant both­ered me way more than a little. I hardly knew Devereux, and a few passionate kisses shouldn't cause me to feel this jealous about another woman. Especially a woman who might not be interested in Devereux at all.

Yeah, right. Not interested in Devereux. Welcome to Denial Central.

Luna's silver eyes studied me like a specimen in a lab. She leaned across the table, shifting from side to side to get a better view, and I got the sense she'd have prodded me with a stick if she could.

"So, you're the one. You're the human who's caused all the fuss." She twirled a strand of her long, straight, jet black hair. "I expected more. You're very pretty, and I see what he means about your eyes, but I still don't understand the obsession."

She turned to Devereux. "What is it about her?"

The two of them stared silently at each other for a mo­ment and then Luna nodded her head and sighed, "Yes, yes, I know. I'll be good. But I don't have to like it."

She turned back to me. "Have Devereux take you on a tour of the rest of the club. I'm sure you'll find it illumi­nating." She stood, nodded at Devereux and walked away, moving like a sleek panther on the prowl.

Devereux said in my mind, "Luna does not understand my interest in humans. She believes it is dangerous for us to risk exposure by allowing ourselves to be known. There is no reason for you to be jealous of her. She and I have never had an intimate relationship."

I frowned at him and sent the thought, "I'm not jealous."

He smiled, nodded his head and thought, "As you wish."

"Hey, what's going on? Why is everyone just gawking at each other? I think I missed the beginning of this movie. Are you going to tell me what you were doing in this guy's lap?" Tom panted, his brows contracted.

I lifted my chin and locked eyes with him. "Well, even though I don't owe you an explanation, and you're sounding ridiculously like a jealous boyfriend, I'll tell you. Devereux and I have a special relationship. We are very attracted to each other. That's all you need to know. And I'll sit in the lap of anyone I wish, and I'll kiss whoever I choose!" I de­clared, giving him a stern look.

Although it was totally out of character for me to say all that out loud, it felt good to do it.

Tom scrunched down a little in his seat and nodded. "Okay. I hear you. I was just worried about you. You've been acting funny all night. Where's Alan?"

"He was called to the police station. There's been an­other murder."

His eyebrows rose. "A murder?"

"Yes, it's the case he's working on. He told you about it in the car, remember?"

He frowned. "Oh, yeah. The vampire thing. So, how are we supposed to get home?"

You could always count on Tom to think about himself in the midst of whatever else was happening.

"He said he'd come back for us as soon as he could."

Zoe reached over and pinched Tom's chin between her fingers, guiding his face to hers. "'Who knows, Tommy Boy. Maybe you won't want to go home. The night is young. Come on, let's dance." She pulled him out of the booth to­ward the dance floor.

"Don't leave without me!" Tom called back over his shoulder.

Devereux chuckled. "Your friend is an interesting person. Seeing you with me caused quite a storm of emotions inside him. He is concerned that he was wrong to let you go. He is reconsidering."

"Are you jealous?" I blurted, without thinking. What was I, a fourteen-year-old?

He snuggled in close and enveloped me in that wonderful spicy scent again. His eyes shimmered in the dim light and his voice flowed like music. "No. I am not jealous. I am cer­tain of your feelings for me. What you and I have is beyond petty human emotions."

I briefly thought about insisting that I had no feelings for him, but how could I lie to someone who seemed to have the ability—whether I believed it or not—to know what I was thinking and feeling? Was that every woman's dream or worst nightmare?

Instead I asked, "If I stare at your eyes again, will I jump back into your lap?"

He laughed, a full-throated sound that washed over me like warm honey. "No. You may look at me and remain in your seat."

I locked eyes with him and thought, "Kiss me."

"Your wish is my command." And he pressed his soft, warm lips against mine, taking me once again into that deep, blissful, timeless universe where only the two of us existed. The sounds in the room receded into the background. Every­one else in the club disappeared. He gently teased his tongue into my mouth, exploring me, and I returned the favor. I heard myself making little moaning sounds. He spoke in my mind, "I want you."

My body ached with desire for him. Maybe it was the build-up of sexual need during the last two years, or maybe it was my reaction to his incredible kiss, but I couldn't think about anything except having mad, passionate sex with Devereux.

We reluctantly pulled apart.

"Come. Let me show you the rest of my club."

He stood and held his hand out to me, and I took it.

I slid out of the booth, raised up on my toes, and scanned the room. "I should tell Tom where I'm going. Not that he deserves it. It'd serve him right if I just left him here to fend for himself."

Devereux cocked his head. "The two of you had a dis­agreement?"

"Sometimes, even though I know better, I let his arro­gance get to me. In a sick way, he's sort of like family."

He smiled. "Ah. Well, not to worry. Zoe will tell him you are with me." "'What do you mean, Zoe will tell him? How will Zoe know?"

"I have spoken to her, in her mind, and she will convey the message. Come."

We walked down the set of stairs that led from our cozy booth into the central part of the club. Devereux held my hand and guided us through the crowd, which seemed to flow aside magically, creating an impossible path through the jammed-in bodies.

We wound our way near the sarcophagus-shaped bar where the Leather Goddess entertained a group of slack-jawed males who were enthralled by her bartending talents. At the far end of the bar was an old-looking, wooden door. Seated on a stool in front of the door was a large, muscular man with long gray hair, dressed in standard biker gear.

When we approached, the biker guy jumped up off his stool, quickly pushed it aside and opened the door. Either this fellow had ingested too much caffeine, he was naturally nervous, or seeing Devereux triggered an anxiety attack, be­cause he stared at Devereux with wide eyes. I could almost feel his adrenaline pumping. This guy was afraid.

Devereux said, "Thank you, John," as we walked through the entry way, and the door closed behind us. We were stand­ing at the top of a long, wide staircase that descended down into the bowels of the club.

"Why was that man so afraid of you?"

He shrugged. "There are some humans who seek out that which terrifies them so they can be afraid, which is the only way they know to feel alive. Much like watching a movie that causes one to feel fear. John is addicted to vampires."

Listening to Devereux talk about vampires again was definitely taking the edge off the lust that had just been there moments ago. It was becoming clear that I either had to ac­cept his vampire fantasies, or I wouldn't be able to see him. And seeing him had become non-negotiable.

I still hadn't made sense out of all the things Alan had told me about Devereux being the leader of a vampire coven, but I couldn't pretend I'd completely discounted that infor­mation. In fact, it had been replaying in my mind all day, eating away at my logical explanations. Alan was a psychol­ogist, after all. Would he lie to me? Was he caught up in the delusion as well?

We walked down the stairs, which led to a long hallway with many doors on each side. I was reminded of Midnight's comment about the lower level being a dungeon, because the walls were stone, and the heavy doors appeared as if they'd been created to keep screaming prisoners locked away. A cool dampness pervaded, and I was almost surprised to see elec­tric lights instead of torches lining the walls. But even though the place resembled a medieval castle, it really couldn't be that old because the church itself had only existed for just over 100 years. And yet, there was an ancient feel to it.

Some of the doors were open. As we passed I could see offices, meeting rooms, storage rooms, a lounge area with a movie-screen-size television, and the velvet curtain-covered entrance to the special gathering place Midnight had told me about during her first visit.

Devereux stopped in front of that room and pulled back the curtains. He nodded at me to check out the large group of people gathered inside. “I will introduce you to some of my companions later. Right now I selfishly wish to keep you to myself. You are a precious gift."

I wasn't used to men paying such attention to me so I didn't know what to make of all the emotions that swept over me as he said those words. Something about them triggered an old need and I suddenly felt vulnerable. I gazed up at his beautiful face, and he bent over and kissed my forehead ten­derly, as if he knew what I was thinking.

He closed the curtains and took my hand, walking me further down the hallway to a set of ornate double doors. He used a funny, old-fashioned key to open the door and ushered me into a huge room filled with lovely antiques, tapestries, and artwork. The room was big enough to contain my entire townhouse with space to add a garage. Along the walls were beautiful candelabra holding lit candles which, combined with the prisms of light shining from an overhead chandelier, gave the room a soft illumination. The stone walls must have created a natural soundproofing, because I couldn't hear the music from upstairs anymore. The silence was rich.

I scanned the details of the room and noticed that all the modern office equipment was there—computer, fax ma­chine, printer—built into antique desks, armoires, and tables, interspersed among colorful couches and chairs.

One half of the room was obviously used as a library; the walls were lined with bookshelves holding thousands of books, some of which appeared to be very old.

"Welcome to my private office." Devereux bowed. "Make yourself at home."

"Wow, this is amazing," I said, mostly to myself, as I wandered around the room, exploring. He had wonderful taste in furnishings and a remarkable sense of color. Appre­ciating the care he'd put into creating his workspace made me remember my own sparsely appointed office and I vowed to give it more attention. If it was true that someone's outer world was a reflection of his inner world, then Devereux was, indeed, a complex and multi-faceted person.

Turning back to him, it occurred to me that I hadn't seen him in bright light since he'd come to my office to interrupt Bryce's attack. As attractive as he appeared to me upstairs in the dim lighting of the club, now the combination of his shining blond hair and luminous blue-green eyes was almost overwhelming. He wore leather pants that were a dark ver­sion of the color of his eyes and a silk shirt of nearly the same shade. His boots had a full heel that made him even taller than he already was, which caused his lean, muscular body to seem even more impressive.

I moved over to him, stood with our bodies almost touch­ing and gazed up at him. "What do you want from me?"

"Everything." He pulled me against him and his lips re­claimed mine.

My body came alive with sensations and desires. The lon­ger the kiss went on, the more I became convinced I wouldn't survive the intensity of the feelings I was having. My knees were weak and all my pleasure centers throbbed with need. I felt him hard and thick against the front of my blue jeans. He made sounds that were part moan, part growl.

My heart beat so loud and fast it took me a minute to figure out that both of our hearts were beating together in a synchronized rhythm. I could almost hear the blood pump­ing through my veins.

He suddenly jerked away from me and retreated a step, observing me from beneath his dark eyelashes. He threw back his head and ran his tongue over his top lip. I got a quick glimpse of fangs.

I gasped in surprise, still lost in the web of desire we'd spun.

He closed his eyes and breathed out a heavy sigh. As he did that, the long canines retracted back up into his gums.

He opened his eyes again, his expression serious, and studied me. "It has been many years since I have lost control of myself that way. You do, indeed, have a great power over me. I hope I did not frighten you."

I knew that I'd just seen Devereux's teeth do the same thing Bryce's had done when he forced me to put my finger on his tooth in my office, and I didn't have any better expla­nation now than I had then, but I really didn't care. I kept feeling that I should care, but I just didn't.

"You didn't frighten me," I whispered.

"Come. There is something I wish to show you."

He took my hand and walked over to one of the bookcases, ran his fingers along the inside panel and did something that made a slight clicking sound. The large bookcase swung backward, creating the entrance to an adjoining room.

Devereux eased me through the opening in the wall of books into that other space, roughly half the size of the huge area we'd left, but still very large.

Saying this was the most extraordinary room I'd ever seen would be an understatement. The floor was white mar­ble etched with Celtic, astrological, alchemical, and other magical symbols in patterns of various colors. False walls of rich wood had been constructed over the natural stone, and paintings, which appeared to have been done by the same artist, covered most of the available space.