Page 4 of Her Vampire

He laughs grimly. “I’ve got no problem with biting.”

“Well, that’s pretty weird,” I say, heart still hammering in my ears.

But there’s something about this man, about the way he looks at me. It’s probably the last thing that should be on my mind, but when I stare at him I feel like my freaking womb or something is screaming at me to leap at him, to wrap my legs around him and grind against him. I’ve never done anything that forward, ever. Nor would I. And yet the confusing urge is there.

“Because most people have a problem with biting,” I whisper, staring, enthralled, as he steps closer and closer.

“It’s okay, boy,” the man says quietly, so close now he could attack me if he wanted to. He reaches down and softly strokes Chipper, smoothing his ears. “I’m not going to hurt her. It’s okay. I know. But you don’t have to fight now. You’re safe. You’re safe.”

Emotion whelms in me when Chipper relaxes in my arms, and then, unbelievably, starts to lap at the man’s hand. I can’t help it. I let out a giggle and shake my head in disbelief.

“He’s not normally friendly with strangers,” I mutter. “Especially strangers in the freaking dark.”

The man nods shortly. “I’ve had many dogs in my time,” he says. “They are good judges of people. I’m Torsten.”

“Wow, cool name,” I say, and then immediately feel like the biggest doofus in the world.

Cool name, strange man who just emerged from an alleyway.

“I’m Tammy,” I mutter, and then bring some sassiness back into my voice. “But honestly I don’t know why we’re even having this conversation. I mean, you’d agree it’s a bit weird, right, Torsten?”

“Perhaps,” he says. “But I’ve never been overly concerned with what people perceive to be normal. Are you lost, Tammy?”

“Not lost,” I say. “Just … taking my time to get to my destination.”

He laughs, low, husky. “That sounds like you’re lost.”

“Well, you might want to fix your ears then.”

“Oh, there’s nothing wrong with my ears, believe me.”

“What, you’ve got super hearing, do you?” I fire.

“Something like that,” he says quietly. His whole body seems to strain against his suit as he stares at me, the azure fire of his eyes blazing. “You’re right to be scared, though. Even in this part of the city, it isn’t safe for a lady to be alone at night.”

“Wow, isn’t that just very old fashioned?” I say.

His smirk widens. For a second, I think I see two extremely sharp teeth in his mouth, wolf’s teeth. But then he closes his lips a little and I’m left wondering if it’s just Halloween making me crazy.

“Old fashioned, yes,” he says. “I suppose I am a little. But it’s also the truth. Let me give you a ride home.”

“Um, what?” I say, laughing. “So let me get this straight. You swagger out of an alleyway, give Chipper a little massage, and now I’m supposed to jump in your car and trust that you’re not some serial killer psychopath.”

He nods and reaches into his jacket pocket, handing me a business card. When I take it, our fingers brush and I gasp. I drop the card and it flutters like a leaf to the ground.

His hand is cold.

His hand is the coldest I’ve ever felt.

He leans down and picks it up, handing it to me again.

“You need to invest in some gloves,” I joke.

“Yes,” he says, “I’ve been told that before.”

I glance at the sleek, modern card and see that he’s Torsten Haroldsson, CEO of Fenrir Industries.

“I’ve never heard of them,” I mutter.

“No,” he says, “you wouldn’t have. They’re a parent company and own many other smaller – but still large – companies. I’m not showing you this to show off, Tammy. But as a sign that you can trust me. If a CEO was going around murdering women, surely somebody would’ve heard about it by now.”

“Or they would’ve paid off the police and gotten away with it.”

“Do you really have such little faith in this city?”

I shoot him a look. “Do you even have to ask that question?”

He shrugs. “Then let me put it this way. There’s no damn way I’m letting a lady like you trudge through this city alone at this time of night. If something happened to you, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.”

A lady like me.

What the heck does that mean?

For an absurd moment, I let myself dare believe that Torsten is attracted to me, but of course, the very notion of that is just ridiculous. Maybe he has a hero complex and wants to play the good guy tonight, take a young woman home and maybe leak it to the press later.

Or is that just woefully pessimistic of me?

“Here’s the thing,” I say. “I’ve learned that trusting people, generally speaking, is a freaking idiot’s game. And that goes double for trusting strangers.”

---