Chapter 7

Peter knew he was charming. He knew it all his life. A handsome face and intelligence were things he used to his advantage, and to work into manipulative intentions. He was turned into a vampire at the age of twenty-two, some forty years ago. He'd come from a prestigious family in Vancouver, though frequented his family's beach home in Martha's Vineyard in the summers of his later teenage years and early twenties. Some would have called him a womanizer, never really willing to commit to one person, though he did have his share of girlfriends over the years, each lasting only a month or so at most. As an immortal, it was one of the many ways he was able to lure victims to him to feed, not that he needed to. Seduction was a game that he loved to play and he had mastered it. It made the hunts more interesting. From day one, he had never minded his transformation, vain in ways that made him admire the unchanging stone face he'd been blessed with, though wore contacts quite often to hide the unwelcoming redness of his eyes.

Alaska, he thought, was beautiful. He would get to know the Denali clan from afar, if he could, before he'd gain his way into their trust, only to lead him to the Cullens. He felt it would be a good way to get to know the Cullens from afar as well. Peter was sure he could pump the Denalis for information once he made himself one of them. If he had any problems in life, fitting in was not one of them, nor was getting sympathy, particularly from women. From what Olivia had explained to him, there were three women that made up the clan of Alaska, and two of them were taken. He wasn't sure if he'd play the love card on the third woman yet, or if he'd save his advances for someone else. Regardless, he would work his way into their circle and get back to an even keel with Olivia.

I could make this a permanent residence, he thought to himself. His eyes wandered the breathtaking landscape before him. In all of his years, he'd never traveled to this part of the world, and he suddenly regretted it dearly.

Olivia had explained the process vampires could go through in order to have biological children so Peter was up to speed. She had filled him in on all of the details he'd need to know in order to do his best to capture Luciana. Considering he had the time, as she set no time frame for his mission, Peter decided to wander the town of Anchorage for a bit before he got down to business.

When night soon fell, he made his way onto the streets and lingered by the bars, waiting for the best looking woman in town to catch his eye. When the moment happened, he followed her on her travels, making himself known, though never approaching her himself. He always made them want him.

A tall, slender blonde woman stood with an elbow on the bar of a downtown lounge. She frequently peeked back at a table of friends as she attempted to get the bartender's attention.

Unfortunately for you the bartender's a woman, Peter thought to himself. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and ran a hand back through his perfectly combed, short brown hair. His eyes, that night, beamed a sparkling green color and the shirt he'd chosen was a gray t-shirt one size too small for his muscular upper body. A catchy phrase with sexual innuendo was scribbled across the front.

The bartender approached Peter and eyed him eagerly, "What can I get for you?"

He smiled a mouth full of perfect teeth and saw the blonde staring over at him, "A scotch on the rocks, and whatever the lady's drinking." He pointed down the bar at her, knowing her eyes lit up at the sight of his gesture. She peeked back at her friends again, who weren't paying attention and shared a pitcher of beer.

Peter smiled as the bartender unwillingly walked to the gorgeous woman and leaned in to ask her drink order. She then returning a pointing gesture to Peter, who raised his nearly empty glass, sucking on one of the ice cubes as it slid into his mouth. He tried to keep his eyes from wandering down the woman's body, though couldn't help himself. She wore a tight, black dress with black heels to match. He saw the wristlet on her arm was Coach and the diamonds on her necklace were surely real. This was the type of girl he typically went after.

The woman behind the bar returned with his scotch after delivering a fruity cocktail to the woman.

"Thank you," Peter said and handed the woman a fifty dollar bill, "Keep the change."

He knew she was about to say, 'but you gave me a fifty,' though she didn't press her luck and happily accepted the large tip.

"That was a big tip," the blonde said, approaching Peter upon hearing his exchange with the bartender.

He smiled and held out his hand, "And you are?"

"Chloe," she reached her tan arm out and shook Peter's icy hand, almost pulling back a bit, "Your hands are cold." A smile lingered on her face.

Peter raised his glass, "Probably because I've been having these on the rocks all night."

"Makes sense," Chloe giggled. She looked at her friends again, who were now all staring in their direction.

"Am I keeping you?" he asked, knowing what her answer would be.

"No," she smiled, "No. Not at all."

"Boyfriend on his way here?"

"I'm single," she said almost immediately, "Single as they come."

They both took a swig of their respective drinks.

"I've never seen you here," Chloe said, finding herself being pulled in like a trance from his eyes.

"Oh, I'm new in town. Checking out some property. I'm from Vancouver actually."

"So, you must play hockey," she joked.

Peter smiled, "Here and there. That's another reason why my hands are so cold."

She laughed at the joke and was fully lost in his game, unable to look away from his gaze, "I've never seen that color green in someone's eyes."

"Well, I'm not just anyone," he tried to downplay the cockiness in his voice.

"I'm starting to see that," Chloe lifted the drink to her mouth and locked eyes with his as she smacked her lips after a long sip of cranberry and vodka.

Peter knew where this was going. The thirst for her began to intensify, though he knew he had to be patient. He loved waiting until the absolute last minute to feed, providing himself with sweet torture before tasting the one thing that sang to him sweeter than anything else - blood.