Page 61 of Road Trip with a Vampire
I swallowed. “No,” I admitted in a whisper.
Just like that, the pheromones he’d been emitting shut off like a tap. His intoxicating scent was gone, all but ripped from my lungs. I gasped for air, my body instinctively understanding that it needed to purge itself of whatever had just happened.
“If one day I am lucky enough to kiss you again,” he said, “I don’t want it to be because ofthis.” His voice was still seductive, still raw, and shot through with an undeniable undercurrent of promise. But the smoke and mirrors of moments ago were all gone.
Now it was just him, exactly as he was.
“You…you want to kiss me?” I was reeling, trying to make sense of a situation that made no sense at all. Yes, vampires were often aroused after a large meal—but the earnest, vulnerable look in his eyes told me this confession had nothing to do with that.
Everything was happening way too fast for me to process. It didn’t help that I was so aroused I wanted to scream.
“I want to do far more than just kiss you,” he admitted, his voice like a caress. “I have since I first laid eyes on you, if I’m being honest.” He reached out and gently pushed a lock of my hair behind my ear. The brief contact was enough to have me gasping again.
“Peter, I…” I breathed, not even sure how I wanted that sentence to end.
“But if it happens,” he continued as if I hadn’t spoken, “it will only be because you want it.Reallywant it. Not because you’ve been overcome by one of the tools I use to hunt my meals.” His gaze drifted towards my glass of water. “You should probably drink that.”
The abrupt change of subject had me feeling like a pinball in a machine. “What?”
“I’ve noticed that drinking water…helps.”
Of course. How could I have forgotten? I grabbed my glass and did what I should have already known to do, all but gulping the water down. It was cool and cleansing, and when I set my empty glass back down on the table, my head felt clearer. My body more my own again.
Just then our server returned with my dinner and Peter’s Diet Coke. Her eyes were clear again, all signs of Peter’s earlier impact on her gone. I was grateful for the interruption, as well as for the food—even if Peter was still looking at me with an intensity that threatened to make a mess of all my carefully laid plans.
“So,” I began, desperate to talk about literallyanythingother than what we’d just been discussing. “How was your evening?”
He seemed grateful for the subject change as well. “Very good. I found a straggler at the wedding reception, and…well.” He raised his eyebrows meaningfully. “I’ve always done well for myself at weddings.”
“Wait,” I said, latching on to the last part of what he’d said. “You’vealways done well for yourselfat weddings? Did you just remember something about your past?”
Peter nodded, his eyes bright. “Sort of. When I…uh…convincedthat bridesmaid to sneak off with me, it felt like steps to a dance I’d practiced many times before.”
Bridesmaid?
Something hot and unpleasant bloomed inside me. Something I might have recognized as jealousy if I looked at it too closely.
Which was ridiculous. It didn’t matter what Peter had done to convince this other person to become his dinner. He was only doing what he had to do to survive.
And, I reminded myself, once we got to Indiana, who knew if I’d ever see him again.
“Feeding from guests at a wedding felt familiar?” I asked, forcing myself to focus on what Peter was saying and not on my irrational feelings.
“Yes,” he said, oblivious to my inner turmoil. “In fact, I’m certain I did exactly that the last time I was here.”
My eyes widened. “You’ve been to this hotel before?”
He grinned. “Yes.” He pointed beyond me, towards the elevator bank. “You know the paneling inside that elevator? When we went up to our room earlier, I had a sudden clear memory of having seen that same paneling during an earlier visit.”
“Peter,” I breathed, my excitement mounting. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”
He looked away. “My mind was on other things.”
Like the fact that we would be sharing a room? No. I wouldn’t be distracted now.
“Do you remember anything else?” I asked.
His smile faltered, all signs of his excitement from a moment earlier erased. “I remember being at this hotel, I remember crashing a wedding for a late-night snack, but beyond that—nothing.” He gathered the menu from the table and began to fidget with it. “This place feels familiar. But in the same way a place you’ve never been to in real life can feel familiar to you in a dream.” He shook his head, then set the menu down again. “I don’t know if that makes sense.”
