Page 33 of The Vampire and the Case of the Baleful Banshee

‘I’m easy to please. Whatever you have will be fine.’

‘No problem. The first course is blood. Since you don’t have a favourite, I’ll share mine.’

I didn’t see him give a signal, but the waiter came back almost immediately with two crystal wine glasses of warmed blood. He placed one in front of me and the other in front of Connor.

His eyes lit up and he flashed me a smile with a tiny bit of fang before sipping then setting down the glass. I knew that was a supreme show of control for a vampire. I looked at my glass. I didn’t want to sip it; sipping wasn’t a show of control for me, it was prolonging the necessary input of nutrition, nothing more.

Connor watched me, a half grin tilting his lips. He was waiting for me to plug my nose and gulp it down but, since I was born contrary, I took a sip and set down my glass too. The blood didn’t taste that bad, but I still didn’t like it. The idea was too creepy.

He raised an eyebrow, picked up his glass and downed the blood in one. I laughed and followed suit, plugging my nose and chugging it. Mum would have been horrified. Then I ran my tongue over my teeth: bloody smiles weren’t sexy.

No sooner had we finished than the waiter brought out the second course. My foodie eyes lit up. ‘Marseille-style shrimp stew,’ he announced as he placed the shallow, delicate bowls in front of us.

I took a single bite and my eyes rolled back in my head with pleasure. ‘Oh yum. This is fantastic.’

Connor smiled. ‘Almost everything was locally grown or caught. I figured it was time to give you a proper taste of Portlock.’

I licked my lips and watched his gaze follow my tongue. I was craving another taste of Portlock, but this hankering had nothing to do with shrimp. With a visible effort, Connor tore his hungry eyes from me and concentrated on his food.

We took the last bite as the next course was brought in. The chef had timed things to perfection. ‘Crusty halibut with citrus and fennel salad,’ the waiter intoned.

I looked at the colourful salad topped with a piece of delicate white fish, lightly breaded and fried on one side. Halibut fish and chips at the diner was nothing like this. When I took a bite, the flavour exploded in my mouth and the tartness of the citrus with the light fullness of the fish made me groan aloud.

Connor’s eyes grew even darker and suddenly a predator was watching me. I squirmed a little but it was with anticipation; I was going to rip that blue shirt off him later. I let the promise show in my eyes and it was his turn to shift in his seat. ‘Okay?’ I purred.

‘My trousers are suddenly tight,’ he confessed.

‘Too much food?’ I asked innocently, batting my eyelashes.

‘It has nothing to do with the food and everything to do with the temptress moaning at my table.’

‘If you didn’t want me moaning, you should have hired a bad chef,’ I sassed.

‘Oh, I wanted you moaning,’ he admitted. ‘I flew in the chef from Homer. I’m paying him an extortionate amount – and I’m going to give him one hell of a tip.’

I had a feeling that if Connor hadn’t planned all of this and the waiter wasn’t there, we’d already be naked and sweaty. The heat between us was palpable and building with each glance. Thankfully – and irritatingly – the waiter interrupted with a tiny scoop of a palate cleanser. ‘Mojito sorbet.’

Mint and lime with a tiny hint of sweetness: the sharp flavours cleared my mouth of the two previous fish dishes. ‘My God, this is divine. Definitely give the chef a raise.’ I made short work of the sorbet and wished there were three more scoops. The one thing I missed from my old life was amazing food – not my parents, not the money, but the food.

The waiter returned with yet another course; many more and I’d pop. ‘Moose steak au poivre with red-wine sauce.’

The meat was rare and sliced into slivers with the sauce poured over it, and it was served with three tiny, delicately seasoned potatoes. I had entered foodie heaven. ‘This. Is. Amazing!’

Connor gave an indulgent smile; he was enjoying pampering me, and I was certainly enjoying being pampered. ‘Which dish is your favourite?’ he asked.

‘This one. No, the shrimp.’ I shook my head. ‘The halibut, for sure.’

He laughed. ‘You liked them all?’

‘I loved them all! I haven’t had food like this for ages.’

His eyes sparkled. ‘Are you ready for dessert?’

I wasn’t because I was full to bursting, but I wanted to try it if it was of the same quality as the rest of the meal. There was also the possibility that I was dessert, in which case I was totally on board. I nodded.

The waiter breezed in and presented a tiny cup of something chocolate decorated with a purple chrysanthemum blossom and a berry I didn’t recognize. ‘Chocolate lavender mousse,’ he announced before withdrawing discreetly.

I took a small scoop with my spoon, licked it off and let the flavour linger on my tongue before I swallowed. It was perfection. Despite my best intentions, I polished off the whole lot.

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