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Chapter 2 - Whats That?

 

  Monday morning at work I was approached by my rotund boss, Clarice. She had gray hair, with streaks of brown, and she coiled it into a bun so tight that it pulled some of the wrinkles out of her face. She wore "professional" clothes straight from the fifties, which is when I think she started working here. A shapeless gray skirt that hit her mid-calf, with a basic white blouse tucked inside it and as the topper-June Cleaver pearls. She tended to look at my slacks, lacy camisoles and fitted jackets with her lips twisted in a small scowl, like she thought I looked inappropriate. I rebelled in my own small way by almost always wearing my hair loose and bouncy and leaving my jackets unbuttoned, so just a hint of my sublime cleavage showed.

  "Emma. "

  I smiled warmly at her vapid face. "Good Morning, Clarice. " As I smiled, I wondered if my boyfriend wouldn't mind draining her. If only just enough to keep her home for a few days, so I could try my hand at being Mr. Peterson's assistant. Being his assistant brought along the more prestigious assignments and of course, the yearly trip to Belize. Being his assistant's assistant. . . did not.

  She harrumphed at me and handed me a half-foot stack of papers. "I need these copied and collated in triplicate by lunchtime. "

  On second thought, I didn't want her vile blood swimming around his system.

  I kept up my fake smile. "Sure thing, Clarice. " Anything for the sea hag. Eventually she had to retire, I kept repeating to myself.

  She started to leave, then almost as an afterthought, she turned her thick neck and said, "Gate Magazine sent flowers for you. They're in the break room. "

  My smile became real. "Oh, thank you. "

  She twisted to face me. "If you're going over there to work for that Adams man, you should put in your notice. "

  "I'm not going anywhere. Thank you, Clarice. " I kept up my smile until she left my cubicle.

  My friend Tracey popped her head over the short wall separating our "offices". She was blonde and beautiful and spunky as could be. Clarice couldn't stand her, but didn't have to talk to her much, since she was the assistant for Mr. Sampson's assistant. Tracey had started working here a week after me, and since we shared a thin wall in our cubicle hell, we'd become fast friends.

  "Hey, Emma, Teren send you flowers again? He's such a good man. " She looked over my desk to Clarice's office, which was right outside of Mr. Peterson's office. "The witch had them sent to the break room instead of leaving them on your desk. I think she's hoping someone tosses them. " She shook her head of blonde hair. "I'm surprised she didn't toss them herself. "

  I smiled as I set the papers Clarice had handed me down on my desk. Teren worked at Gate Magazine, a regional monthly magazine specializing in San Francisco life-places to go, places to eat, events in the area, local news, and stuff like that. He wrote articles for the life and style section which now I actually found a little humorous. I let Clarice think he was trying to woo me away for a job so she wouldn't complain about my personal life intruding on my work life. She was irritating that way.

  I sighed with contentment as I answered her. "He's the best, Trace. " I left out that he was slightly more than just a man. "We finally had our night. " I winked to indicate what I meant.

  Her blue eyes widened at me. "All right, 'bout time. " Her pixyish face relaxed into an Isn't he sweet look. "Oh, and he sent you flowers afterwards. Ugh, if you don't marry that man, I will. "

  I laughed as I wondered what Tracey would think about him, if she knew as much as I now did. I nodded my head towards the break room. "I better go retrieve my flowers. "

  She ducked her head back down as I made my way down the hall to the communal room used for coffee and food breaks. A few men that I passed subtly checked out my chest as I walked by, and for a moment, I wondered if I was setting womanhood back by showing off my "rack". Or maybe I was showing empowerment-I am woman, hear me roar. Sometimes it was a fine line to walk. I pushed the odd thought away as I reached the room and stared at my arrangement of calla lilies. Teren did have good taste.

  I reached inside for the card and pulled out the small envelope from a local shop. Inside, Teren had written, "Thank you for a surprising weekend". On the bottom he'd drawn a smiley face with fangs. I chuckled at his sense of humor and shook my head-his weekend couldn't have been anywhere near as surprising as mine. I tucked the card into my pocket and, grabbing the vase, headed back to my desk. I placed them right on the edge, where Clarice would see them every time she walked by.

  Monday nights were kickboxing at the gym, so after work, Tracey and I headed over there and sweated out our cubicle frustrations by envisioning our bosses as we kicked and punched the air. The music-laden class was being subbed tonight by an extremely hot guy named Ben. The usual instructor was a peppy girl named Lita, who made the class amusing with her anecdotal comments, as well as difficult.

  Hot Ben didn't do much for me (my guy was hot and supernatural) but Tracey found his highlighted hair, bulging biceps and chiseled, model-like features distracting. Eventually, he had to come over and help her position her feet correctly for a side kick. As he adjusted her hip, Tracey looked over at me and winked really fast. I rolled my eyes at her as he walked away from us.

  They were chatting after class as I waved goodbye, Tracey putting a hand on his shoulder and laughing at something he was saying. I was pretty sure that he'd have her number by the time I got to the dressing room. I showered at the gym, politely averting my eyes from the flock of eighty-year-old women who no longer cared who saw them buck naked, and changed into date clothes.

  After drying and restyling my hair, I redid my makeup and grabbed my gym bag. Slipping into my car, a cute little yellow VW Bug, I headed over to Teren's house for a late dinner. He met me in his half circle driveway and opened my door. Must have heard me coming. I'd have to remember that his hearing was probably not just good but "enhanced," and I'd have to be careful what I muttered around him, or within a block radius of him. Who knew how enhanced he was?

  "Hello," he said, with a sweet smile and an even sweeter kiss.

  "Hello to you, too," I replied, slipping my arms around his neck. "I loved my flowers. "

  "Good. I was wondering about that. " He grabbed my hand and we started walking to his house. Teren lived in a modern, two-story home, with panoramic views of the Pacific. Unlike my house, which was firmly sandwiched in-between my neighbors, his home was spaced from the houses surrounding it. It was a very nice spread.

  I squeezed his fingers as we walked up his steps. "Tracey's going to marry you, if I don't. "

  He laughed as he opened his wrought iron and wood front door. "Oh good, as long as someone is going to. How do you think she'd feel about. . . ?" He made a prong-like motion with his forefinger and middle finger, indicating fangs.

  I put my purse and jacket in his entryway closet, nestled right in-between his heavy winter coat and his "only for special occasions" dress jacket. "You'd still be able to hear her screams," I said, laughing. Spike padded up to me, wagging his tail in clear merriment at seeing me again. I scratched behind his ear while I continued chuckling over the image of Teren fanging Tracey.

  Teren laughed with me, and then grabbed both of my hands and pulled me through his formal dining room into the kitchen, where the incredible smells emanating from the stove started making my mouth water. Spike obediently followed us and lay down on the cool tiles in front of the fridge.

  "That's why I like you so much," he said, pulling me tight to him in front of the oven.

  I giggled and twisted away from him to sneak a peek at a saucepan bubbling on a burner-it was thick, white and smelled delicious. "Is that why your weekend was surprising? Because I didn't scream?"

  He came up behind me and slipped his arms around my waist as I stirred the creamy goodness and then took a lick from the spoon. It was an Alfredo sauce and it was incredible. My stomach rumbled. "You only screamed when I wanted you to. . . " he wh
ispered in my ear. I elbowed him in the ribs and he grunted softly. It astounded me a little, that I could make a vampire grunt. He laughed, then more seriously said, "You have taken everything surprisingly well. "

  I turned in his arms and laced my hands around his neck again. "Maybe I'm just freaking out on the inside. "

  He chuckled and gave me a soft kiss, then he seemed to remember something. "Oh hey, I talked to my parents today-they're really looking forward to meeting you. They want us to come up this weekend. "

  My face went blank. . . and surely pale white. "Now I'm freaking out. "

  He kissed my nose. "You'll be fine. It will be fun, I promise. You should have heard how excited they were-"

  I cocked an eyebrow as I cut him off. "Excited our son is bringing home a girl, or excited we're having a tasty snack delivered?"

  He twisted his lips at me in obvious displeasure. "My family is not going to eat you. That would be pretty rude. "

  "Right. . . well, why are they so excited to meet me then?"

  He paused for an inordinately long amount of time. . . that worried me some. "I've never brought a girl home before," he finally said with a warm expression. Even though his soft smile was genuine, I couldn't help but think that there was more to the story. "So, what do you think? This weekend?"

  "Sure. . . why not. " If I'm going to be an Adams family snack. . . might as well get it over with.

  Releasing me, he finished making our Chicken Fettuccini Alfredo dinner, handing a forkful of sauce-coated chicken to me to test, and tossing a bare chunk of chicken down to Spike, who thumped his tail on the floor appreciatively. As we sat down at his candlelit formal table with our meal and a glass of chilled wine, I forgot all about the upcoming weekend and raptured in the flawless food. For a man who only ate because he chose to, boy could he cook!

  He offered me a nightcap at the end of dinner but I politely declined. It was getting pretty late and I did have to work tomorrow. He walked me to my car and gave me a final hug and a kiss at my car door. I narrowed my eyes, intensely studying his. It was late and very dark outside, but we were close to a streetlamp and we were bathed in the amber light. Since I was looking for it, I noticed the faint glow of the whites of his eyes, but a person not expecting it, really wouldn't notice it at all.

  He slowly shook his head at me and my fascination. "Do you want to do something tomorrow night?"

  "Sorry, can't. I'm having dinner with Mom and Ash. Rain check?"

  "I have an editor's meeting Wednesday night, but can you come by Thursday for dinner? We can work out the details for Friday night. " I frowned and he laughed as he gently pushed me into my seat. "It will be fine. Promise. " He cocked his head at me as he leaned against my open door. "When do I get to meet your family?"

  I sighed. "Let's just get your family out of the way first. . . then we'll talk. "

  Smiling, he nodded, then leaned in to give me a final, final kiss before he closed my door. I watched him in my rearview mirror as I pulled away. It was a bit startling that I could see his reflection-that particular myth must not be true then. Of course, my vampire didn't seem to conform to any of the traditional vampire lore. What a rebel he was. He waved at me with one hand, the other casually stuffed into the pocket of his slacks, and I smiled at my tall, dark and pointy-teethed boyfriend.

  I walked into my gray on gray cubicle the next morning and smiled at the arrangement of calla lilies still on my desk. I sat down at my ergonomically correct chair, opened the bottom drawer of my desk, and stuffed my heavy purse inside. I had to shove and rearrange the purse a couple times to be able to close the drawer all the way. Apparently, I was becoming a bit of a pack rat. I'd have to dig through the purse soon and toss out all the old receipts, empty packages of gum, out of style lipsticks and semi-melted tubes of chapstick, that were collecting in there.

  I adjusted a picture of my mother and sister next to my computer and wondered if I should bring in a photo of Teren. That would dispel the myth that he was trying to woo me away for work, if Clarice ever figured out who the man in the picture was, but it would be nice to look at his handsome face while I went about my day.

  I flicked my computer on and opened my emails. I just about shut my computer back off. There were thirty-six emails requesting old P&L statements that I'd have to dig through piles and piles of paperwork to find. And each email had the dreaded red flag of urgency. Well, of course, everyone believed their problem was the most urgent thing in the world. Sighing, I started writing down the information that I would need.

  Tracey walked up to my "home away from home" and leaned against one of the walls. She looked blissfully happy, a peaceful smile on her peach stained lips, and I was pretty sure why. "So, did you get a date with Ben?"

  "Of course!" She shook her blonde head, like it was a ridiculous concept that she wouldn't.

  I smiled and shook my head at her, in awe that she felt completely comfortable hitting on someone, while dripping with sweat. Personally, there was only one way I wanted a cute guy I liked to see me all sweaty, and by that point, I usually knew him pretty well. Usually-there might have been some poor decisions made in college.

  "We're going on a date Friday," she finished.

  "That's great!"

  She told me all about the fancy restaurant they were going to, and the club she wanted him to take her to afterwards. When her story dwindled down, I told her my plans for the weekend. "Teren is taking me up to his parents' place for the weekend. "

  "Already? That's fast, he must really like you. " Her blue eyes sparkled at me with genuine happiness for my relationship that was going quite smoothly, and as she had correctly pointed out, was starting to definitely pick up speed.

  "Yeah, I think he's been bitten by something. " My lips curled a little at the corners over my dumb vampire reference that Tracey didn't get at all.

  "And you? What do you think of him?" She walked over to my flowers and smelled one, her blonde hair leaning forward with her and brushing against the lengthy stems.

  My smile widened. "He's like no one else I've ever met. " Quite literally.

  She straightened and pulled her hair back behind her shoulders. "Are you heading to the gym tonight?"

  "No, I'm having dinner with Mom and Ash. "

  She nodded. "Oh that's right. . . Tuesday. " She put a slim hand over her heart. "Give Ash a great big hug and a kiss for me. I miss that girl. "

  "I will. "

  I smiled as I continued on with my tedious task, and Tracey disappeared behind her adjoining wall. My smile faded after an hour, and by lunchtime, I was craving a pick-me-up. I skipped out and rushed to get my coffee treat-making sure I didn't dump it on any potential bloodsuckers this time. Then I settled back into my monotonous work in the records room-finding files, copying them and then replacing them-all with my caffeinated secret weapon tight in hand. Even though by five o'clock, the very backs of my eyes ached, I still managed to get every single piece of paper sent out that was requested of me from my urgent email list by quitting time. I was quite pleased with my productivity as I strolled out the front doors.

  I smiled as I walked into the quaint cafe that was Ashley's favorite place to eat. She always ordered the butternut squash ravioli, no matter what time of year it was, and the staff always added extra gorgonzola crumbles on the top, just for her. They sort of loved her here, which is really the reason why we came here so often. My sister tended to attract attention. . . and not the good kind.

  The hostess greeted me and motioned to a table in the back, where we preferred to sit. I nodded thanks to her and started walking in that direction. The cafe was quiet tonight and soothing contemporary jazz played over the sound system. The tables were all set up with a small vase of wild flowers, and the hand painted lamps, lightly swinging above each table, lit the area with a soft glow. It was a cozy, comforting place.

  I approached a table where a woman with chin-length, graying brown hair, w
as sitting with her back to me. She was plump in the I don't care, I'm going to fully enjoy this life I was given sort of way, and she had a deep, earthy laugh that echoed down the aisle to me. She was laughing with a woman who was facing me. A woman who had the most horrific face you could image. A woman I deeply loved.

  The woman stood as I came up to the table. Half of her head and half of her face were covered in a thick patchwork of scars. The side of her head that could still grow hair was a deep brown that bounced in the exact same way that mine did.

  "Hey, sis," she said, as she hugged me warmly.

  "Hey, Ash. " I hugged her right back, ignoring the imperfectness of her face. It was irrelevant anyway-her beauty was her heart. It always had been, it always would be.

  She sat back down stiffly; some of the scarring over her joints made some movements a little difficult for her. Scooting over, she patted the seat so I would sit beside her. I giggled and snuggled into her side. My sister had been horribly burned when she was nine years old, in a house fire that had claimed the life of our father. My mother had gotten out of the house safely, but Dad had rushed back in to save Ashley; it was the last thing he ever did. I was at a friend's house that night and had missed the whole disaster. I was equally regretful and grateful for that. But that was ten years, and for Ashley, several surgeries ago.

  Her body was a variegated mix of layer-upon-layer of discernable scarring. It covered over two thirds of her, but that didn't dampen her spirit. She took the teasing and ridicule she received from the uneducated idiots we often encountered, with grace and aplomb. She was my best friend. She was my hero.

  Her light brown eyes sparkled at me playfully as she grabbed my arm. "So, how's the boy?"

  I playfully nudged her back. "The man is wonderful. "

  My mother across from the table from us laughed. "When do we get to meet this mystery man?"

  I smiled at my mom as I held Ashley's hand. My mother had never remarried, in fact she still wore her wedding ring-to chase away the would-be suitors, she said. Whenever I hinted about her dating again (she was only fifty-two after all), she would sniff and say that she had a husband and he was waiting for her in Heaven. I would always sigh at that and let it go. You can't make someone do something they don't want to do. But she was a vibrant, happy woman. Her face had deep laugh lines around her eyes and the corners of her lips. She was quick to smile and even quicker to laugh.

  I chuckled at my mother's question. "That's kind of funny. Just yesterday, he asked when he'd get to meet you. "

  She leaned in, her expression curious. "And you said. . . ?"

  "All in due time. "

  We ordered our "usual" from the waitress, Debby, who lounged at our table for a few moments, chatting away, catching us up on her life-funny stories about her kids, a fight she'd had with her husband, a horrible weekend at the in-laws, which was the precursor to the aforementioned fight. We came to this cafe weekly. It was our way to stay together as a family and fill each other in on the aspects of our busy, daily lives. We'd been coming here for over five years now, and most of the staff was the same as our first night here. It sort of became a way for us to be filled in on their lives too.

  After a few moments of friendly chit-chat, Debby left to get our drinks and place our orders. Our food arrived only moments later; the cook was well aware that we were here, and what we were going to order. Debby talked with us a few minutes longer while she set down Ashley's ravioli, my smoked ham Panini and Mom's raspberry-stuffed French toast. Then she moseyed on to other customers and we ate our meal and talked about what had happened during our week.

  Mom and Ashley laughed as they discussed Mom's ongoing battle with her neighbor's yappy dogs that kept her up at night. Mom was considering secreting them away to the vet to get them debarked. I told her to go for it, but Ashley stuck up for the dogs and convinced Mom to try earplugs first. I smiled inwardly that I could always have Teren stop by for a little midnight snack. . . but then I remembered his aversion to the very idea of eating dog. Honestly, who'd imagine a vampire being squeamish?

  Ashley caught us up on school. She would only say it was going well. I took that to mean that her classes were going well, but as per usual, the relentless staring and whispering wasn't stopping. She was in the last semester of her first year at San Francisco State University. She was taking the nursing course, and had noble dreams of working in the burn unit ICU at San Francisco General Hospital. The students weren't used to her yet, and she was a constant source of wonderment for them. I was grateful that college students were slightly more mature than high school students, and at least the relentless teasing that used to bring her home in tears had stopped. Well, mostly stopped. She had run into a group of frat boys once that had acted like they ran the school. . . and were still thirteen. I'd received a tearful phone call after the encounter, and spent the night comforting her with a quart of Haagen-Dazs. Maybe I'd sic my vamp on the frats? Surely he had no compunction about assholes.

  I briefly considered telling my family about Teren, about what he really was. Ash would think it was cool. . . she wasn't one to chide anyone on being different. Mom. . . would act like a Mom though, and panic about me dating a man who, like some rabid dog, could turn on me at any moment and drain me dry. I was pretty sure Teren would never do that. But I'd never be able to convince Mom, and she'd only see his vampirism after that, not the amazing, smart, funny, brilliant man that he also was. I decided that maybe I'd tell Ashley later, but we'd have to keep it a secret from Mom. Much like the time I'd dated a member of Hell's Angels. At the time, he'd been thirty-five, covered head to toe in tattoos, and had some questionable extracurricular activities. Like I said, I had made some poor choices in college.

  At the end of the evening, I gave my mom a big hug, and she rubbed my back and told me to be safe in the generic way that I knew meant, I love you too much to handle anything happening to you, so lock every door, never go outside after dark, and don't eat the unlabeled tin can in the very back of your pantry. I hugged her back and wished her well, then turned to Ashley and gave her an even bigger hug, and a big wet kiss on her bare scalp.

  "Oops, I almost forgot. " I gave her one more hug and a kiss. "That's from Trace, she misses you. "

  "Oh, she's so nice. Tell her we'll get together soon, maybe next week. " She kissed my cheek and then grabbed Mom's hand and walked stiffly from the cafe.

  I lingered a few steps behind them, watching the amazingly strong women of my family. That thought brought up thoughts of my upcoming weekend. I hadn't mentioned it to Mom or Ashley. I'd tell them later. . . after I'd survived meeting the amazingly, and supernaturally, strong women of Teren's family.

  Teren had his meeting the next evening, so when I got home from my second kickboxing class of the week, after a long day of Clarice scolding me for not exactly lining up the corners of the pages I'd copied before stapling them (she was a little OCD), I drew a nice warm bubble bath and picked up a nice long book-an Anne Rice novel, no less. I may have lied about the whole vampire fantasy thing. I did not lie about the disinclination towards pain though, and biting was still a no-no.

  The next morning, I felt refreshed and recharged-and lusty as all get out for some vamp loving. It made the day go by achingly slowly, but it had been two days since I'd seen him, and I missed him. The jet-black hair that set off his startlingly pale blue eyes, the just right fitness of his athletic frame, the strong capable hands, the set of his stubbly jaw, the smell of his cologne, the curl of his full lips as he smiled at me. . . and yes, even his pointy fangs, that he so very rarely let me see.

  By the end of the day I was a little riled up, so I had Tracey cover for me and snuck out of work thirty minutes early. Teren usually left, and started, work an hour before I did, so I wasn't too worried that he wouldn't be home. Maybe I'd even catch him in the shower. Geeze, I really had missed him.

  I pulled into his drive and wondered if he'd heard me. If he did, h
e didn't come out. Maybe since he thought I was at work, he assumed I was a neighbor pulling into their drive. I approached his door and, since I felt like after we'd been intimate, I had the right to-and honestly since I was a little anxious to be intimate again-I opened it as I was knocking on it.

  "Teren?" The house sounded empty as my voice bounced back to me.

  "Come on in. I'll be there in a minute. " His voice was calling to me from a distance. He had heard me and responded, but I still didn't know where he was.

  I took a couple steps into the entryway and closed the heavy door behind me. The wrought iron and glass door had matching windows on both sides of it, and there were solid looking brass pots before them that were holding sculpted, three-foot-high mini trees. If Teren ever strung lights on them, the light would show through the windows and the effect from the outside would be quite pretty.

  I put my jacket and purse in the closet to my right and wondered where my boyfriend was in this large spread he called a home. An archway to my left led to a formal dining room with a massive mahogany table, complete with six intricately carved high-backed chairs. The chairs at the head and foot of the table had padded arm rests, and sitting in them made you feel like the King or Queen of this tiny fiefdom. Continuing on through that room led you to the kitchen.

  An archway on my right led to a smaller room with a baby grand piano tucked in the corner. Teren didn't play, I'd asked, so I wasn't sure why he had one. Maybe someone else in his family did. I wasn't too excited about the fact that some vampire in his family frequented so often, that he had brought in special furniture to appease them. Or maybe a house this large was just expected to have one. . . like an extra bathroom or something, it was just built right into the floor plan.

  I decided to go straight through the entry way, or was it a foyer in a house this size? It did have a chandelier swinging high above me in the vaulted ceiling. Anyway, I walked straight through the room (passing the first of his four bathrooms) into the living room. The west wall of the living room was glass and all you could see was the ocean, you could even just make out the Golden Gate Bridge through the very right window. The sunsets from this room were spectacular. In the middle of the glass wall was a sliding door that led to the backyard. The slider was designed in such a way that it seamlessly matched the windows, and until you saw it opened, you wouldn't even realize it was a door. Teren's house was on a slope and you couldn't actually see his yard unless you went outside and looked off the decked patio. There were a couple of chaise lounge chairs out there, for relaxing, and a six-foot long metal table, with a set of matching, padded swiveling chairs, making a comfortable spot for an evening meal while enjoying the amazing view. Maybe we'd eat outside tonight?

  Not wanting to search for him, since he knew I was here and he'd find me, I sat on his long, leather couch to wait. I looked over at the spiral staircase in the corner of his living room that led to a loft upstairs that he used as his office. I wondered if he was up there, working late on an article. His office was positioned over the kitchen and it had bookcases that lined the far wall and looked down into the living room. Following the wall of bookcases took you to another glass wall, with a slider that led to a second-story patio that slightly overhung the first, creating a nice shaded spot on the table below. That patio had a couple more chaise loungers for sunbathing. That's right, my vamp liked to sunbathe.

  As my eyes were still on his office above me, Teren surprised me by coming in through the living room slider. He was still in his nice work clothes-light khakis with a black leather belt, matching black dress shoes and a crisp, navy blue shirt that looked amazing against his dark hair and tan skin. They'd look even more amazing, crumpled on the floor next to his King-size bed. But I was too entranced by what he was holding, to tackle him like I'd wanted to all day.

  "What is that?"

  He lifted up what he was holding. "It's dinner. "

  "It's a chicken. "

  His smile widened. "Yes. . . we're having chicken for dinner. "

  "It's alive. "

  The small, white chicken clucked stupidly at me in the mesh cage Teren was holding up. Teren twisted his lips and walked through the open space in the wall that led into the kitchen. Insanely curious, I followed him. He set the cage down on a granite island in the center of the spacious area. He looked up at me with his lips still pursed.

  "This is how I prefer to buy them. I picked one up last night after my meeting. "

  I was fascinated. I didn't even know there were stores where you could "pick-up" live chickens. This city really did have everything. He was still looking at me oddly and I finally realized why he bought them alive.

  "Oooooohhhh. You're gonna. . . " I pointed at the doomed chicken and he nodded.

  "You're not usually here for this part. . . you're early. " He seemed a little disappointed, like he'd have to forgo his snack or something.

  I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back against the counter. "Don't stop on my account. . . go ahead. "

  He furrowed his brow at me. "Are you sure? You might think of me differently after you see this. It's not the sort of thing you can un-see. " He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. "I could go somewhere else. You don't have to watch. "

  I shook my head and smiled. "I want to see all of the different pieces of you. . . and this is a pretty big piece. " I made a go-ahead motion with my fingers. "Go on. . . just don't spoil your dinner. "

  He rolled his eyes and then smiled with just one edge of his lip. It was a cocky, self-assured look that made my heart speed up a little. Then he opened his mouth a little wider and his fangs snapped down into place right before my eyes-my heart sped up a lot. I wondered if he could hear that, but got distracted by the thought from him opening the cage door. The stupid chicken didn't move, other than to flick its head rapidly here and there. What it was looking at, I had no idea, for it certainly was unaware of the danger approaching from behind it. I had a sudden, strong desire to shout at the dumb animal-"Don't you know that death is stalking you? Run!"

  I watched in silence though, too fascinated with the hunter versus prey scenario playing out before me, to make a peep. I held my breath at what the poor chicken didn't know was coming, but I did. Then, lightning-quick, Teren grabbed the chicken and sunk his teeth into its neck; it feebly clucked once. He drained it in three seconds. I counted. I didn't breathe for any of those three seconds.

  He pulled the chicken away from his mouth and set the lifeless carcass on a chopping block set on the counter. He wiped just a spot of blood from his lip and stared at the dead beast. Then, very slowly, he turned his head to face me. He looked very worried.

  "That was. . . " I struggled for the words to summarize just what I was feeling at that moment, ". . . kind of hot. "

  He blinked at me. "What?"

  I shook my head. "Yeah, I know. . . right? I'm a little surprised too. . . but, yeah, that kind of turned me on. "

  He gaped at me as he slowly moved his head back and forth. "You're so weird," he said, as his fangs retracted back to wherever they went when they were hiding.

  "Said the vampire who just drained our dinner," I wryly replied.

  "Touche," he laughed. A burner on the stove had a large pot of water sitting on top of it, and he turned the knob to hot.

  I stepped over to where he was now washing his hands, of all things. "You did that so fast. "

  Drying his hands on a towel, he gave me a serious look. "There is no point in needless suffering. I'm not cruel. "

  Still morbidly curious, I asked, "How long would it take to drain a human?"

  His jaw clenched and he frowned at my question. "I will never drain a human. "

  I shook my head and brushed aside his concern with my hand. "Just in theory. . . how long?"

  He looked at me a long time before answering. "I've heard it can be done in seven seconds. "

  Holy. . . dang. . .

  "Wo
w. . . you'd never even know what hit you. "

  He looked over at the chicken, almost like he now felt sorry for it. "Yeah. "

  Wanting to lighten his mood, and perhaps actually being serious with my request, I playfully tossed out, "Will you drain my boss?"

  His head snapped back to mine and the corners of his lips lifted. "What?"

  I slipped my arms around his neck and, relaxing, he curled his around my waist. "The shrew I work for. Just a smidge. Just enough to knock her on her ass for a few days. "

  He kissed my nose. "No. "

  I ran my hands suggestively down his shirt, and then started un-tucking it. "I'd be most. . . appreciative. "

  He laughed as he watched my hands pull up the fabric. "Are you offering yourself to me, if I suck on your boss?"

  I husked out a laugh and kissed his neck. "Hmmmm. . . is it working?"

  He pushed me back and stopped my hands from unbuttoning his shirt; his grin was wide. "No. . . I'd rather go back to abstaining. "

  I smacked his chest. "Some vampire you are. I can't even get you to nibble on a human for some lovin'. " I shook my head and dramatically sighed. "What is the supernatural world coming to?"

  Teren laughed and walked over to the chicken. "You should be grateful I'm not more inclined to 'nibble on humans,' as you put it. " Holding the feet with a silicone pot holder, he immersed it in the boiling water for a few seconds, then set it back on the counter. When it cooled enough, he grabbed a leg and started removing feathers.

  My stomach churned at the sight. "Ugh, see-ya. I'll be in the living room. "

  He stopped his hands to look over at me. Pointing at the chicken carcass he was plucking, he said, "This. . . this makes you squeamish?"

  I pointed to the feathers in his hand. "Yes. That. . . that is gross. "

  He was chuckling at me as I turned the corner into his magnificent living room and plopped onto his super soft couch. He finished preparing the chicken and then brought us out a glass of wine-blood red, of course-to enjoy while the bird cooked. We snuggled on the sofa and talked over our couple days apart while we sipped our drinks. He talked about his meeting, and how impressed his boss was with his last article-a feature on how to enjoy the city on a tight budget, which, as I looked around his incredible home, made me wonder how he'd known what to write about. I didn't think he had to "budget" for anything. I told him about my mom and sister wanting to meet him and he gave me an Anytime you're ready look. That brought the conversation around to this weekend, and meeting his parents.

  We decided. . . well, he decided and I grudgingly agreed, that he would pick me up at my place after work Friday night. I had a feeling he was mainly picking me up, just so I wouldn't bail on the whole event. He said he could make the sixty mile drive in forty-five minutes, if we hit the traffic just right, so we'd be arriving just in time for dinner. I didn't know what unsettled me more-how fast we'd be going to get there so quickly, or the getting there just in time for dinner part. Was that arriving in time to join his family for a meal, or arriving in time to be the meal?

  The majority of my brain really wasn't worried about his family killing me. . . after all, he was right, that would be a pretty rude way to meet your son's girlfriend. But I'm only human, and there is an intrinsic fear of knowingly walking into a predator's den. Like the fear you get when you go to the zoo, and the only thing separating you from the field where the lionesses are basking in the sun, is some vegetation, a ditch and a short fence. I don't know, but I'm pretty sure, given the proper incentive, that really wouldn't pose as much of an obstacle as the zookeepers would have us believe.

  We finalized our plans and talked over some details, like, they have a pool, so bring your suit. Then we ate our roasted chicken on the patio and watched the sun set, the burnished reds and oranges rippled across the sky and reflected in the water below it. When we were full and satisfied, Teren proceeded to satisfy my other hungers as well. . . and I'd been right-his very nice dress clothes looked much, much better crumpled up along with mine beside his very spacious and luxurious bed.