Page 50 of Vampire's Vixen

She took a deep breath. “I’m…I’ve always wanted to meet a vampire. Not a psychic vampire, like Marcus, but…a real vampire. I always thought it would be terribly romantic to spend eternity with someone I love.”

I tried to understand what she was saying. “Is that why you don’t date?”

Crystal shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe.”

I pulled over to the curb, easing into a parking space. “What’s going on, Crystal?”

“All right, here’s the thing.” She blushed and stared out the window. “I’ve got a thing for vamps. I’ve tried to ignore it, but I just find the whole concept so damned hot. I’m not interested in relationships, per se, but I guess those books hit hard because I still find myself fantasizing about being swept away by some handsome, wounded undead hero. And I’m so embarrassed. I didn’t ever want to tell you because I sound like some moony teenaged girl, drooling over a cardboard cutout.”

I didn’t know what to say. I had known Crystal since we were little girls, and though she hadn’t been that interested in dating when we were kids, I thought maybe she was just asexual or maybe she had other priorities. I hadn’t ever dreamed that those late-night conversations over all the book and movie boyfriends we had crushes on were actually still part of her psyche.

Swallowing my surprise, I struggled to find the right thing to say. It felt like she’d just told me that she committed some crime that she’d kept secret all these years. But I didn’t want to make her feel bad—everybody had their own preferences. Even though I’d never known about her vampire fetish, if it could be called that, it didn’t make her any different than the Crystal I had always known and loved.

“You know,” I said after a moment, “I want to apologize. I don’t ever want you to feel like you have to hide something from me. We’re ride-or-die buddies, and unless you do something horrific, there’s nothing you can say that would make me look at you with anything but love, support, and friendship. Please, if I ever make you feel hesitant again, let me know, please?”

Crystal sighed, leaning back in her seat. “Thank you. This is the one thing I’ve hidden from you. I always felt like I might be some kind of…perv?”

“Oh trust me, given I’m in the process of getting a real pervert kicked out of the academy, you’re nothing near that. Now, if you wanted to date a zombie, I’m not sure I could handle that.” I laughed, glancing over at her.

“Eww, trust me. I want my man with all his body parts. If any are missing, it better be through an accident…okay, that sounds weird. But you know what I mean. No dropping rotting arms or legs along the way.” She grimaced. “We’re rapidly descending into a weird space, you realize that, don’t you?”

“I think we passed that mark a long ways back,” I said. “All right, let’s head out. And I want you to promise me something: If you do find Zandre attractive…tell me. I want to find him his love, and I don’t want to miss that just because you might feel hesitant about saying anything.”

Crystal laughed, then sobered. “I promise,” she said. “And I have to say, I’m actually going into this with an open mind.”

As we headed for the steakhouse, my thoughts were flying in a million directions, and all of them felt uncharted.

CHAPTER TWENTY

The steakhouse was bougie, very upscale. The hostess was wearing black palazzo pants trimmed with gold lace, and a matching shirt, sheer with the ends tied in a knot at her waist, over a pale gold tank top. With a high ponytail, sleek and black, she was wearing a nametag pin, which read Rachel.

I smiled at her, and said, “We’re here to meet Zandre.”

She glanced at her list, then nodded. Picking up two menus, she turned toward the screened-off dining room. “Please follow me.”

We threaded our way through the main dining room, where mostly couples were sitting at tables, though here and there a four-top or six-top was buzzing with quiet conversation. There weren’t any children present—Numa was an adult eatery, and while not explicitly forbidden, it was obvious kids weren’t welcome.

We came to a table near a big bay window, where Zandre was waiting, wearing a black suit and red tie. With slicked-back hair into a ponytail, and expensive sunglasses, he looked even more like some gothic prince, or gothic millionaire. He stood as we approached, slowly removing his sunglasses. The crimson rings around the black of his irises glowed.

“Ladies, welcome. Please, sit down.” He moved around, holding Crystal’s chair for her, then my own. “I’m so glad you could join me for dinner.”

At first, I thought he was speaking to me, but then I noticed his eyes were on Crystal. The moment he took his sunglasses off, he had fixed his gaze on her and he wasn’t looking away. Crap. Could my visions actually be right? Was Crystal Zandre’s potential mate? Regardless of her obsession with vampires, I hoped they wouldn’t make a connection. I wasn’t sure whether I was afraid for her, or whether it was my own prejudice speaking.

I cleared my throat. “Thank you. Zandre, please meet my friend Crystal. Crystal—Zandre.”

Crystal reached out and he took her hand, but instead of shaking it, he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on the top. She caught her breath and slowly leaned back in her chair. I sensed a ripple between them.

“How do you do?” Crystal returned his gaze.

“Meeting you has made my day,” he said.

I started to clear my throat, wanting to interrupt what I foresaw happening, but Aphrodite whispered in my ear again, startling me.

You have to get used to this. You’re not going to feel comfortable with every match. You don’t control this. You’re my priestess now, you need to understand that I’m going to be talking to you a lot. And, as my priestess, I expect you to listen.

But Crystal is my best friend. I don’t see this as working, long term.

She’ll still be your best friend, but you can’t always dictate the way you think love should go. It’s not your place to step in and stop this—not unless she’s being harmed. Maybe this will work—you can see the attraction and chemistry that’s simmering under the surface. Maybe it won’t. You’re used to finding precise matches, but maybe it’s time you let go of control of the end result?

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