Page 10 of Road Trip with a Vampire
Why did Reggie think I couldhelpthis guy?
And gods, why did he think sending me that warning letterwith the person he was warning me aboutwould be remotely helpful? A typical Reggie lack of forethought.
The longer Peter stood there, watching me, the less concerned I was growing that he was about to attack my students.But I knew the signs of a hungry vampire. He’d been tempted by me when I’d grabbed him earlier. He was still tempted. I could see it in the way his eyes kept flitting to the spot where my neck met my shoulder, and I could sense it in his nearly irresistible smell. He was fighting the siren call of my blood, but it was using up a lot of his self-control.
I was tempted to kick him out, but that would only unleash a thirsty vampire on a sleepy, unsuspecting community.
“Come up to my apartment with me.” I folded Reggie’s letter and thrust it back at Peter. “We need to talk.”
Peter’s eyes went as wide as saucers as he took the letter from me and tucked it back into his bag. “You want me to go with you to your apartment?”
My stomach did a stupid little flip, hearing him say that out loud. I tamped it down.
“I’d take you somewhere else, but nothing’s open after eight,” I explained. “I need to get your whole story before I send you on your way.”
Peter’s footsteps were eerily silenton the stairs behind me as we made our way up to my place.
In contrast, my heart was pounding so hard he could probably hear the rapid pumping of blood through my veins. At least he kept his fangs to himself.
“I should have mentioned I don’t have air-conditioning,” I said, just for something to say. “Most places here don’t. It doesn’t normally get hot enough to need it.”
“It’s fine,” Peter said. “Sleeping in a hot apartment is better than sleeping at the bus terminal in the coffin Reginald shipped me in.”
I stopped climbing so abruptly Peter crashed into my back. When I whirled to face him, he was rubbing the tip of his nose.
“First of all,” I said, “you’re not sleeping in my apartment. Second of all, Reginaldshippedyou here in acoffin?”
“He said it’d be faster than a bus.”
“So’s flying on an airplane like a normal person.” Flying would also have been a hell of a lot cheaper than shipping an entire coffin filled with two hundred pounds of vampire across the country. This had to have been Reggie’s idea of a practical joke. “What a dick.”
“They weren’t ideal travel conditions,” Peter admitted. “Not ideal for sleeping, either.”
Despite everything, I felt a twinge of sympathy. “You’ve really been sleeping in a coffin since getting here?”
He nodded. “I arrived a few days ago. Didn’t know where to find accommodations. My coffin’s stashed behind some abandoned lockers where no one will stumble across it.”
He’s a vampire and not my problem, I reminded myself as I opened the door to my apartment. Peter stayed outside as I walked in, eyes on his shoes again. Like he was waiting for something but was too embarrassed to ask for it.
Oh. Right.
“You can come in,” I said, feeling foolish for forgetting that vampires needed express permission before entering someone’s home.
“Thanks.” Peter stepped across the threshold into my living room. And then it was just the two of us—a witch trying to remake herself and hide her identity from the rest of the world and one of the sexiest vampires she’d ever seen.
His mere presence here could ruin everything I’d built for myself.
Peter looked like he felt as awkward about the situation as I did, his eyes darting around the room as though looking for hidden dangers. He clasped his hands in front of him, then let them fall back by his sides, like he didn’t know what to do with his arms.
“This isn’t what I expected,” Peter said, taking in my consignment store furniture and eclectic decor. His tone was neutral, not judging. His comment rankled all the same.
“What were you expecting?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Reginald said you’re a witch. I suppose I assumed you’d have…I don’t know.” He trailed off, gesturing vaguely with his hands. “Cauldrons and broomsticks, maybe. A talking black cat.”
I snorted. “Haven’t you known any real witches? Those are just stereotypes.”
“I don’t know if I’ve ever known any real witches.” There was real pain in his voice.
