Chapter Four

Elijah

Sunrays creep in through the open window, spilling bright light directly on my face. I wake with a start, my heart pounding, with only one thought on my mind: Hayley. I'm reclined on the leather couch in the living area—but how the hell did I get here? I slowly start to process what happened last night. When did I doze off? And when did Hayley leave? The absolute stillness in the apartment is enough to tip me off that she's gone, but where did she go?

After Hayley agreed to fight against Katherine and her werewolf pawns, I'm sure she hasn't fled the city. Still, I can't shake the feeling that she isn't safe, that she needs my protection. She was almost killed last night and I'll be damned if I allow her life to be at risk again.

I'm about to chase after her—determined to search every street in New York if need be—until I see a folded sheet of paper on the wooden coffee table next to the couch. I open the paper with trepidation and read:

Elijah—

Sorry to leave without saying goodbye, but I wanted to crash at home after such a crazy night. I left you on the couch to gather my things and then came back to find you sleeping, so this note will have to do.

I'm game to help you find Katherine and whoever is helping her. I know this bar in my area that caters to the wolf crowd. I'm sure we can get some answers there.

Please meet me at my apartment in BK around noon, the address is:

743 Hart Street

-Hayley

P.S. You drool in your sleep, Original Vampire

My hand rushes to the side of my mouth and I groan out loud when I feel the crusted drool on my face. Charming. I'm mortified and suddenly my cheeks start to warm. Am I blushing now? I can't even recall the last time something made me blush. It takes very little to make an original vampire feel self-conscious, after all. But somehow this wolf girl and her snarky quips affect me.

I'm not surprised by this revelation. Hayley has the unique ability to cut to the core of me. It's strange considering I barely know her. And yet, there's something inexplicably familiar about her, as if we've known each other for years. The way she holds my gaze with her clear, shining brown eyes—she gives herself away too much. I can tell she trusts me implicitly.

It's impossible. I'm one of the most dangerous creatures who roam the night. I am someone who should be feared by all. And though I know it's quite ridiculous for a vampire and werewolf trust each other, but I have no doubt that I can count on her as an ally…and if I dare give life to such thoughts, could she be something more?

I shake my head and rub my drool-encrusted face. Last night I finally set the record straight with Hayley: that when Bill escaped my grasp the first time, I managed to follow him to O'Connor's and saw him attack her. I was about to intervene until it became clear that the striking, dark-haired wolf girl could take care of herself. A thought occurred to me that Hayley was able to escape Katherine's compulsion and could potentially help me find her and her powerful allies.

Hayley, of course, agreed to help me any way she could. Her first thought was to make some inquiries to some close friends of the wolf pack, but I stressed that I would need to accompany during her investigation—an idea she firmly resisted. She rambled on about how I would "cramp her style" and that I would "ruin the whole mission" until I reassured her that I would only be her back up. She could handle things as she saw fit and I would take a back seat. And whatever I said seemed to pacify her—at least for now.

I check the 18th century grandfather clock, an old keepsake from London that rests against a cream-colored wall in the living room, and note that it's a quarter after ten. It's nearly time to meet the fiery wolf girl. My pulse quickens at the mere thought of seeing her and suddenly I worry that my newly formed alliance with Hayley could spell trouble for the both of us…

When the door to the two-story red brick apartment at 743 Hart Street opens, I fully expect to see a beautiful form greet me with wavy dark tresses, pouty lips twisted in a wry smirk, and glowing light brown eyes. Instead, a tiny woman emerges with gray hair pulled back into a tight bun, sharp blue eyes, and a scowl painted on her wrinkled face.

My mouth hangs open in shock as the old lady barks at me in a foreign tongue. It takes a while for the language to sink in. She's cursing at me—in Italian. Granted it's been decades since I lived in Italy, but I can decipher the gist of what she's saying. It's something like: "Get the hell out of my house, you dirty son of a whore." I start backing away from the house slowly, afraid to anger the elderly woman further, but then Hayley, my savior, bounds toward the door.

Hayley gently grasps the woman by her slender shoulders and annunciates each word loudly: "NONNA. STOP. YELLING. HE. IS. A. FRIEND."

The elderly woman looks from Hayley to me (though she fixes me with an angry glare) and shrugs her shoulders. She mutters something under her breath in Italian and shuffles back inside the apartment.

Hayley flashes me an apologetic smile, but I can't quite resist teasing her.

"It seems I was mistaken. I came to protect you, but I see now that you already have a bodyguard."

Hayley laughs nervously and steps closer to me. I can't help but remark how gorgeous she is in the daylight. She's dressed in a black leather jacket, form-fitting white tank top, and tight dark blue jeans. The style emphasizes her sensual s-line figure. My eyes travel down her toned and curvy body, lingering for a while at her cleavage.

Although it's quite cool outside, heat travels down my body and my muscles tighten. She's exquisite. I start to wonder what it would be like to wrap my arms around her, to caress her bare neck with my lips—and then I notice she's wearing huge black combat boots. The wolf means business and I admire her even more for that toughness. She's sexy and strong—everything a man could want in a woman.

"Please don't mind Nonna. She's really sweet…deep down," Hayley says, interrupting my silent worship of her body.

I nod, not really convinced that Nonna could ever be deemed "sweet". Then I turn serious. "How is your head?"

Hayley instinctively reaches for the bandage on the right side of her face. "Oh, this old battle wound? Much better. It'll heal in no time."

"I'm glad to hear it," I reply, relieved.

I'm about to propose that we leave the premises before Nonna returns, when Hayley pulls at the sleeve of my suit.

"Wait—hold on one second. What the hell is this?"

I give her a blank stare. The frustrated pout is back. Never a good sign.

"Elijah, by all the holy saints, do you not remember what I told you yesterday? That you would cramp my style! And now you're wearing…this!?"

I examine my pressed and perfectly tailored black suit and find nothing out of the ordinary. I look up at her questioningly and she sighs, clearly exasperated with whatever egregious fashion faux pas I've committed.

Without another word, Hayley stuns me by grabbing my hand and hauling me inside the apartment. The apartment is dim and cold and the air is musty from dust. I can barely see my way—not that it matters, though, with Hayley guiding me purposefully up a long, narrow flight of stairs to the second floor.

We stop suddenly in front of a door, but Hayley won't open it. She fidgets and her mouth twists, and I realize she's unsure about showing me inside. "This is my room—it isn't much to look at, but for now it's home…"

She trails off and looks down at her feet. I have the urge to lift her head to meet my gaze. I can't bear the thought of Hayley—the brave, beautiful wolf girl—ever feeling ashamed, especially when she's revealing a special part of herself to me. I squeeze her hand in encouragement, but Hayley immediately yanks her hand away from mine. Did she just realize we've been holding hands the whole time? Did it feel as natural for her as it did for me?

I decide to go for a more friendly gesture and rest my hand on her shoulder. I'm quite certain there is nothing intimate about shoulder-touching, but her head tilts up and her eyes widen in surprise all the same.

"Hayley, you don't have to let me in."

Her eyes soften and I know she's aware we're not just talking about allowing me inside her room. I can't have any expectations where Hayley's concerned. Our alliance is valid until we put a stop to Katherine and then we agreed to go our separate ways. I won't ask her for more than she's willing to give.

Hayley's bright eyes search my face. She's trying to assess how much she can trust me and I lose myself in her clear, steady gaze. A minute passes before she finally looks away. Then her full lips form a shy smile and she tentatively opens the door, motioning for me to go inside.

The first word that comes to mind when I enter the room is: emptiness. No pictures or artwork adorn the light gray walls. I note three large black suitcases are planted next to a tiny blowup mattress on the hardwood floors. She has exactly one blanket and one pillow. And that's the whole space aside from a small bathroom and tiny kitchenette.

In the corner of my eye, I see Hayley observing me closely.

"I do admire what you've…neglected to do with the place," I say carefully.

Hayley rolls her eyes and sticks her nose up in the air. "I'm sorry, we can't all live in the lap of luxury, Elijah."

Her eyes are sparkling with mischief and I laugh, grateful for the easy turn in our conversation.

"Now—let's get you dressed properly." Hayley plops herself down and starts rummaging through one of her big suitcases stuffed with clothes.

I feel nervous. What is she plotting?

"What do you mean "dress properly"? I've been dressing in top-quality, foreign-made suits for hundreds of years," I say matter-of-factly.

"Yes, but we're not in Park Avenue Manhattan, Elijah. We're in Brooklyn. And not in a nice part of town. You need to look more…"

"More…?" I raise an eyebrow.

She stops sifting through her suitcase and fixes me with a serious look, "Ordinary. If you waltz into this dive bar wearing a five thousand dollar suit, you're going to raise everyone's suspicions. You need to blend in, ok?"

"Blending in" is hardly an issue for an original vampire. In fact, I pride myself on standing out. What do I care about flying under the radar? But seeing the pure desperation in Hayley's eyes is enough for me to concede…just this once.

I nod my head in assent and her face lights up. "Great! I found what I was looking for."

Hayley prowls toward me, slowly, hiding a small item behind her back. Then she jumps in front of me and presents me with…a brown fedora.

Oh, sweet jesus, no. "There must be another way," I whisper.

Hayley giggles—evilly—and places the grotesque hat on my head. She pushes me into the bathroom on the left side of the room and positions me to face the mirror. I can barely look at my reflection.

"You look hip!"

"I look like a preening whelp," I moan.

"It's perfect!" Hayley gushes. "Just one more thing."

She turns me around to face her and begins unbuttoning my suit jacket. She's completely focused on her task, but I notice the color rise in her cheeks. I feel her soft breath against my neck. It's almost torture to stand so still, to do nothing, when she's this close to me. My whole body tightens and hums in anticipation.

As Hayley unbuttons the last button, she places her palms on my large shoulders before sliding the jacket off me. She doesn't make eye contact when she hands me the jacket, but I see that her face is totally flushed and she's biting her bottom lip. Then Hayley unbuttons the first few buttons on my shirt collar, but her fingers are trembling, making her clumsy. Her hands rest against my chest and I crane my neck down until we're nose to nose.

She closes her eyes and tilts her chin up slightly. Her hot pink lips transfix me and I bend further. Our lips are inches apart. So close—

Br-iii-iing!

A high-pitched ring causes Hayley to jerk up, accidentally banging her head against mine.

"Ouch—shit!" Hayley's hand lifts up to her head and I panic, afraid that I've made her injury worse.

"Are you quite alright?"

She offers me a rueful grin. "Yes, you happened to hit the other side of my head. Nice aim, Original."

I feel relieved and return her smile.

Then Hayley reaches into her jean pocket and takes out a small phone.

I fight the urge to snatch the phone out of her hand and smash it against the wall. That goddamn phone is the reason we were interrupted. What the hell just happened between us? Will we ever have a moment like that again? I try to keep my rage under control, as Hayley, oblivious to my inner turmoil, checks the message on her phone.

After glancing at the screen, she peers up at me and arches an eyebrow.

"It's my friend at the bar—his shift has started. Are you ready?"

"I look like a prize idiot."

"Nah, you're like one of those rich trust fund kids, who slum it in Brooklyn for kicks. You can pull this off."

I give her an incredulous look. Then Hayley turns me toward the mirror once more and places her hands on my shoulders. She rises on her tiptoes and I shudder, feeling her warm breath against my right ear.

"You look hot, trust me," she murmurs.

She's smiling at me warmly and I no longer care what I'm wearing. To hell with the fedora.

I face Hayley and extend my hand. "Shall we?"

She hesitates only for a moment before placing her hand in mine. "I'll lead the way."