Eternal by V. Forrest (new reading TXT) 📗

in a poor Eastern European accent as he approached her. He bared his canine teeth, which had apparently been chiseled to points.

Fia had to draw her lips tightly to keep from laughing aloud. “Hi.”

He circled her, flapping a black and red satin cape behind him.

She covered her mouth with her hand. Where did Eva find these people?

“I like your outfit,” he told her. “Very…subtle.”

She looked down. Black sweatpants and a man’s black Calvin Klein T-shirt. Flip-flops.

“Where did you—” She couldn’t help herself. “How did you…get invited here?”

He pulled his black lips back to bare the cosmetically altered teeth again.

And to think, Fia had had her canines filed down at the age of sixteen when they became more pronounced than was acceptable among humans, even in their retracted state.

“First time at one of these parties?” He moved closer, drawing his cape around her.

“Actually…” Fia found herself at a loss as to what to say. She couldn’t fathom what bad movie or what character he was imitating. He was just so ridiculous looking. As he circled her, she continued to turn so that she could face him.

He reached out to rest his hand on the wall, trapping her with his cloak. A flash of strobe light crossed his face and she saw that he was wearing black contacts. He looked silly, but he smelled…inviting.

She glanced around the room and spotted Regan on one end of the modular couch, a human woman dressed in black on each arm. He flashed a smile; not warm like Fin’s. Cold. Arrogant. Challenging.

“Hey, Fee, I didn’t expect to find you here.” Arlan wove around two human females who were doing some sort of striptease dance to Iron Maiden. “Drink?”

She took the bottle of pale ale he offered and tipped it. She knew it was a mistake the minute she tasted the yeasty, mild brew. There were reasons why she didn’t drink.

“Who’s your friend?” Arlan cocked his head at the ridiculous looking guy in the cape standing beside her.

“Jeremy.” The cape offered his hand.

“Get lost, buster.” Arlan drew back his lips and long saber teeth appeared. He snarled like a lion.

The guy in the cloak flinched. Blinked. Ducked off.

“That wasn’t very nice.” Fia took a drink from the bottle.

“He’ll never remember a thing in the morning.” Arlan’s teeth morphed back to normal as he snatched the beer from her.

She watched the way his mouth fit around the brown glass.

“Pretty naughty of you to be here, Special Agent Kahill. Especially with your boyfriend back at the house.”

“He isn’t my—”

“Hey, Fee, it’s okay,” he whispered, moving closer so that she could hear him over the pulsating music. “I get it. It happens to all of us once in a while, and him looking like Ian…” Arlan shrugged. “Just my bad luck.”

“Arlan—”

“Shhh. I’m talking.” He pressed his finger to her lips. “So you listen.” He drew back his hand. “See, I been thinking. And I’ve decided I’m not going to ask you to my place anymore. I’m cutting you off.”

“You’re what?” She tipped the beer back. It tasted entirely too good.

“I’m cutting you off. Cold turkey. No more hot stud vampire for you, Missy.”

She laughed, but she knew he was being serious. At least half serious. “Arlan—”

“No, no, hear me out. I’ve decided I can wait until you’re ready. Until you come to me.” Holding the beer bottle with one hand, with the other he traced her pale flesh above the collar of her T-shirt.

Fia’s heart rate soared.

“I’m going to give you some time. Some space. Let you come to your senses.”

She had to smile. He was such a damned good guy.

“And you will, Fee. Because you always do.” He lowered his hand, looking into her eyes. “You’ll realize it can never work with a human, just the way I’ve realized it. And you’ll know.” Another shrug of his broad shoulders.

“I’ll know?”

Again, he leaned close, still holding her gaze with his big brown eyes. “That I’m the only man for you.” He brushed his lips against hers…the sweetest kiss.

Then he was gone. A bobbing head in a sea of bodies twisting on the dance floor.

Fia finished the beer and made her way to the bar, hands in the air over her head, trying to squeeze through. There were so many people, bodies pushing, brushing, gyrating. The music throbbed in her head. The strobe lights in the corner of the room flashed. Someone had already taken human blood…she could smell it in the room. Was it Regan? Eva? Both of them?

She set the empty bottle on the bar.

The young woman behind the bar looked up. She wore a tight black T-shirt with a graphic of red lips on it. “Fia!” She laughed. “I have to say, you’re one of the last people I would have guessed I would see here tonight.”

Fia plopped down on a barstool. “Are you talking or serving?”

Sorcha grinned and reached for a bottle of ale in a bucket of ice. “Serving.” She popped open the top with a bottle opener and passed it to Fia. “So how have you been?” She leaned over, elbows on the bar. “Well, not so great lately, I guess, with what’s going on here, but you know—how’s life in the big city?”

Fia felt totally out of her element; the music, the wild atmosphere, the beer, someone asking her to talk about herself. She didn’t know what to say.

“I miss you, you know.”

Fia leaned over to hear her better. “Miss me?”

Sorcha was Fia’s age and pretty with pale red-blond hair, blue eyes, and killer cheekbones. Her lover and soon-to-be husband had been killed in Ian’s raid, so she’d never had the opportunity to be married, or give birth, either.

“I miss talking to you, seeing you,” Sorcha said. “You used to call me…or least return my calls.”

“I’m sorry.” Fia looked down at the dark bottle in her hands. “I’ve been busy. You know, long hours at work.”

“I know. But not any busier than the rest of us.” Sorcha grabbed a beer for herself and leaned