Sins of the Undead Patriot. a.c. Mason
The slightest brightness glimmered in her black eyes.
He held the first set of doors open for her, directed her to the elevator and pressed the Down button. That information would be easy enough to obtain.
“I was joking.” Leera pushed into her heels and smiled.
“It beats stalking you...”
Sadness emanated from her. Loss never got easier, not even for his kind.
“You’d be bored,” she said. “I live an uneventful life. Work, working out, gardening in the summer. I’m a homebody.”
The bell dinged and door panels slid apart. He entered after her and pressed P1. The doors closed. With a jerk, the elevator descended.
“A vegetable garden?” Not a hobby of his, but if she were lying naked in a pumpkin patch he might be convinced otherwise. The accenting contrast of her perfect breasts and dark nipples jutting out over the edge of the large orange vegetables would give him cause to pause.
He swallowed thickly.
“Yes, how did you know?” She smiled then pressed her lips into a thin line.
“Peter told me you’re a genius-turned-chef. Vegetables seemed a natural leap. You studied at the institute of Le Cordon Bleu in Paris, correct?” The best school of French cuisine. She’d gone away to study, probably to be a great distance from the serious Waltz family businesses of law and politics. Not to mention, the pressure.
“I did.” With her straight white teeth, she bit into the moist plumpness of her bottom lip.
A shiver shot up his spine. Insinuating such offers with a zombie might not be in her best interest. Not that he planned on eating her in the literal sense of the word. He definitely wanted to taste her in more places and ways than one, but she was work. Better he delay any such encounters until after he flipped the brother to Barton so they could take down Mr. McKie. Once he got that straightened out, whatever occurred would be mutual. The elevator doors opened and he led her to his black Audi with dark tinted windows. He opened her door.
She slipped into the seat. “Are you a haut cuisine connoisseur?” The hemline of her dress rose, revealing her beautiful, fit thighs. In the soft light, her silky bronze legs shimmered.
He frowned at his admiration. “Moi, non, but a good friend of mine, Johann, is the first undead to graduate from the program.” He could only imagine how tender she’d be to bite into, her satiny flesh pressed to his mouth, teasing his lips... He’d forgotten how difficult this would be.
When she’d lifted her legs into the Audi, he shut the door, went around and climbed in on the driver’s side. “Are you buckled in?”
“I am. Thank you.” She tugged the strap over the full mounds of her breasts. They jiggled with the movement, and all he wanted was to have his hands on them.
He exhaled heavily, pulled his belt over his shoulder, across his lap and pushed in. The mechanism clicked. Her belt was on too. He pushed the lock button on the door. The apparatus clicked. He pushed the button again. Why he’d bought a car without the little sticks that indicated the doors were locked or not was beyond him. Her belt seemed in, but what if the latch hadn’t locked?
“Is everything okay?”
If he came up with a good enough reason, she’d let him check her seatbelt. “Yeah, it’s just the seatbelt doesn’t always click in properly. It’s been problematic since I purchased the car.”
“Oh.” She breathed out and tugged the strap.
He covered her hand and yanked, and she jerked her hand back.
Not good. “Sorry.”
“No, I’m the one that should be sorry,” she said, her dark gaze fixed on him. “You were just looking out for me.”
Exactly. If he checked again, she’d think he was crazy.
The beige lighting in the parking lot shone on the velvety texture of her skin. Vaihan turned on the engine, put the car in reverse, pulled out of his parking spot. Arrows marked the path he followed to the exit. He pushed the lock button again. If he tapped the brakes at a low speed and she didn’t fall out, the strap was probably secure. He stopped at the pay counter.
“Nice to see you, Mr. Louchian.” The young lad behind the glass counter smiled.
“Jazz, back on the evening shift?” Vaihan removed a twenty from the cup holder.
“Yes, but only while Frank is away.” He tapped commands into a keyboard. “Your total comes to ten dollars.”
He held out the cash. “Keep the change.”
“Thanks.” The young man saluted off his turban.
In the last few moments, Leera had not spoken a word, though he was sure she’d observed his interaction with the youth.
Vaihan pressed the gas then hit the brake.
Leera gasped but remained in her seat. Good. The belt appeared secure. Though, at high impact it could react differently...not that he was about to test his theory.
“I’m sorry.” He merged the vehicle onto the road. “Where to, beaute?” Beauty.
“The corner of Kenmore Drive Northwest and Charleston Terrace Northwest. Know it?” She slid her feet back along the car mat, raising her knees. The satin fabric of her peach dress slipped further up. No panty lines were visible. Was she bare beneath?
Excitement rushed to his cock.
The hard peaks of her nipples pressed to the material of her gown. Not since Elizabeth had he allowed a woman to rouse his lust before he figured out her level of receptiveness toward him–his kind. Was his interest heightened because she was off-limits? Common sense would dictate he refrain from sleeping with a woman he was using to get to someone else–especially when the target was her brother.
“Near the reservoir?” He met her gaze.
“That’s the place.” Her pretty glossy lips curved to one side. “And you, where do you call home?”
“A cemetery.”
Her eyes widened to saucers. “You tease.” A subtle breath escaped, relaxing her shoulders.
“Not entirely.” He merged onto Canal Road Northwest. “My place is across from the Oak Hill cemetery near Twenty-ninth Street. One of the benefits is that the people across the way are quiet.”
Trees lined the roadway and the moon shimmered off the water.
“My husband is not buried here. His family is Catholic. They had his body laid to rest in the family cemetery back in France. I had a headstone put at the Holy Rood Cemetery to have somewhere to pay my respects.” She fidgeted with her hands in her lap.
“Does it help?”
Leera shook her head as she turned to the window. “This winter will have been a year since the accident. I should be getting on with living.” Streaks of lights from the streetlamps flashed in her vacant eyes.
“There isn’t anything wrong with standing still while everything around you is moving.” Human life was but a blink. Why spend time running after smoke?
“I’m the red brick on the left side of the cul-de-sac.” She pointed to the post-War bungalow-style home.
Vaihan pulled into the driveway behind a shiny blue Honda Fit. “I’ll be doing the driving on our outings as I don’t fit in the Fit.”
“It’s bigger than it looks.” She grinned.
“I, on the other hand, I am as big as I seem.”
Her stare stopped at the bulge in his pants then met his gaze. “Point taken. Your car it is.” Her cheeks grew pink.
Whether she was ready or