***
Another amused grin stole across his face. "Deacon Frost," he replied and touched her arm.
She stared at him a moment longer, inwardly debating how dangerous he looked. A smile finally graced her face and she shook his hand, "Celestina," she said. "Tina for short."
He smiled and gently kissed her hand. "Celestina, what a beautiful name." His eyes met hers again and she smiled wider, then glanced around the bar. Deacon growled quietly, frustrated with his failure to send her into a fit of giggles like he could with other women.
"Would you like to find a place to sit Tina?" He asked, still holding her hand.
She nodded and searched the club again. "Where? All the couches are taken."
Deacon smiled, then began to stride across the bar, pulling her along. He reached a couch situated in a darkened corner and waved his hand impatiently at the vampires who were sprawled across it. They grumbled between themselves, but stood and dispersed, leaving the couch empty.
Tina smiled approvingly at Deacon and settled contently on the couch. "Neat trick you pulled there. Do you know the owner or something?"
The vampire just smiled and slid onto the couch beside her, letting her believe what she wanted. He motioned to a waitress who scurried over with a piece of paper.
"Rye," he murmured, then looked at Tina.
"Long Island iced tea?" She asked and the waitress nodded and hurried over to the bar. Tina checked her watch, then began to examine her long fingernails. They were painted a very deep red, almost black and Deacon had the sudden urge to take her fingers into his mouth, but restrained himself. He didn't want to scare her away just yet.
"What do you do for a living?" He asked instead, tearing his eyes away from her hands.
She glanced at him and smiled. "I work for a newspaper. Mostly just answering phones and redirecting e-mails to the right people, but sometimes I get to write a column or help out with an article." Her eyes met his again and Deacon finally felt the connection he always made with his victims. "What do you do?" She asked.
Without noticing, he ran the tip of his tongue over a fang, then smiled at her. "I'm involved in politics. You know how it is, trying to get the old guys to listen to the new ways of life."
Tina nodded slowly, not fully understanding what he meant. Before she could ask, their drinks arrived and she smiled thankfully at the waitress. Deacon took his drink and placed it on the table in front of them, ignoring it for the moment. Tina raised the straw to her mouth and began to sip her drink nervously. He smiled; he made her nervous.
"What are you so afraid of?" He asked, leaning close and brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Afraid?" Tina laughed. "Where did you get the idea that I was afraid?"
"You seem nervous," Deacon replied.
"Maybe I am. But being nervous and being afraid are two very different things." She put her drink on the table and crossed her arms. "What reason would I have to be afraid of you?"
More than you know, Deacon thought, but shrugged instead. "I don't know. Depends on what you're scared of."
Tina frowned. "What?"
"What scares you? Witches? Werewolves? Vampires?"
Another laugh escaped her mouth. "The supernatural doesn't frighten me. How can you be scared of things that don't exist? Real life; that's what scares me."
Deacon moved closer to her on the couch. "You don't believe in vampires?"
"Why?" Tina asked. "Do you?"
He laughed, then shook his head. "No. I'm just surprised, that's all. Most women aren't smart enough to be scared of the real things. At least, none of the women I've ever met."
"Well, I suppose that's where I differ from the other women you've met."
Deacon nodded. "I suppose it is."
They sat in silence as Tina studied the other patrons of the bar. Deacon sat beside her, eyes closed, imagining what it would be like to fuck her and then suck her dry. He had mental images already of her naked body stretched out on his bed, slicked with her own blood. Those beautiful blue eyes would be wide and unseeing, her hair splayed out around her head on his pillow. He would want to preserve her like that, remember how she looked as she died. It would be incredible to see how it panned out when he finally did it.
***
More to come soon . . .
Another amused grin stole across his face. "Deacon Frost," he replied and touched her arm.
She stared at him a moment longer, inwardly debating how dangerous he looked. A smile finally graced her face and she shook his hand, "Celestina," she said. "Tina for short."
He smiled and gently kissed her hand. "Celestina, what a beautiful name." His eyes met hers again and she smiled wider, then glanced around the bar. Deacon growled quietly, frustrated with his failure to send her into a fit of giggles like he could with other women.
"Would you like to find a place to sit Tina?" He asked, still holding her hand.
She nodded and searched the club again. "Where? All the couches are taken."
Deacon smiled, then began to stride across the bar, pulling her along. He reached a couch situated in a darkened corner and waved his hand impatiently at the vampires who were sprawled across it. They grumbled between themselves, but stood and dispersed, leaving the couch empty.
Tina smiled approvingly at Deacon and settled contently on the couch. "Neat trick you pulled there. Do you know the owner or something?"
The vampire just smiled and slid onto the couch beside her, letting her believe what she wanted. He motioned to a waitress who scurried over with a piece of paper.
"Rye," he murmured, then looked at Tina.
"Long Island iced tea?" She asked and the waitress nodded and hurried over to the bar. Tina checked her watch, then began to examine her long fingernails. They were painted a very deep red, almost black and Deacon had the sudden urge to take her fingers into his mouth, but restrained himself. He didn't want to scare her away just yet.
"What do you do for a living?" He asked instead, tearing his eyes away from her hands.
She glanced at him and smiled. "I work for a newspaper. Mostly just answering phones and redirecting e-mails to the right people, but sometimes I get to write a column or help out with an article." Her eyes met his again and Deacon finally felt the connection he always made with his victims. "What do you do?" She asked.
Without noticing, he ran the tip of his tongue over a fang, then smiled at her. "I'm involved in politics. You know how it is, trying to get the old guys to listen to the new ways of life."
Tina nodded slowly, not fully understanding what he meant. Before she could ask, their drinks arrived and she smiled thankfully at the waitress. Deacon took his drink and placed it on the table in front of them, ignoring it for the moment. Tina raised the straw to her mouth and began to sip her drink nervously. He smiled; he made her nervous.
"What are you so afraid of?" He asked, leaning close and brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Afraid?" Tina laughed. "Where did you get the idea that I was afraid?"
"You seem nervous," Deacon replied.
"Maybe I am. But being nervous and being afraid are two very different things." She put her drink on the table and crossed her arms. "What reason would I have to be afraid of you?"
More than you know, Deacon thought, but shrugged instead. "I don't know. Depends on what you're scared of."
Tina frowned. "What?"
"What scares you? Witches? Werewolves? Vampires?"
Another laugh escaped her mouth. "The supernatural doesn't frighten me. How can you be scared of things that don't exist? Real life; that's what scares me."
Deacon moved closer to her on the couch. "You don't believe in vampires?"
"Why?" Tina asked. "Do you?"
He laughed, then shook his head. "No. I'm just surprised, that's all. Most women aren't smart enough to be scared of the real things. At least, none of the women I've ever met."
"Well, I suppose that's where I differ from the other women you've met."
Deacon nodded. "I suppose it is."
They sat in silence as Tina studied the other patrons of the bar. Deacon sat beside her, eyes closed, imagining what it would be like to fuck her and then suck her dry. He had mental images already of her naked body stretched out on his bed, slicked with her own blood. Those beautiful blue eyes would be wide and unseeing, her hair splayed out around her head on his pillow. He would want to preserve her like that, remember how she looked as she died. It would be incredible to see how it panned out when he finally did it.
***
More to come soon . . .