Страница 24 из 60
“Or keep things from me that I should know.”
“You have my word.”
I nodded. The sun was already setting, and lights began to appear in the buildings above us, their reflections bouncing off the water like flickering flames.
“Kate, what are you feeling?”
“Honestly?”
“Honestly.”
“Afraid.”
“Let me take you home,” Vincent said, regret filling his voice. He rose to his feet and pulled me up beside him.
No! I thought. And aloud I stammered, “No . . . not yet. Let’s not end today like this. Let’s do something else. Something normal.”
“You mean something besides talking about death, flying spirits, and obsessed immortals?”
“That would be nice,” I said.
“How about di
“Okay.” I nodded. “Let me just tell Georgia that I won’t be eating at home, though.” I took my cell phone out of my bag and texted: Going out for di
Vincent took my hand and laced his fingers through mine, sending little shock waves through my heart. My phone rang as we got to the top of the steps. It was Georgia.
“Yes?”
“So, who are you going to di
“So, why do you want to know?” I smiled, glancing sideways at Vincent.
“Let’s just say that I’m taking my role as your legal guardian seriously,” she purred.
“You are so not my legal guardian.”
Georgia laughed. “Who are you with?”
“A friend.”
“V?”
“Actually, yes.”
“Oh my God, where are you going? I’ll come by and just pretend I was in the area so I can get a look at him.”
“No way, and besides, I don’t even know where we’re going yet.”
Vincent gave me a sly smile. “Georgia?” he asked. I nodded, and he reached for the phone.
“Hello, is this Georgia? Vincent here. Should I have cleared this date with you before taking your sister out?” He laughed, and I could tell Georgia was working her irresistible charm on him already.
Finally he said, “No, I don’t think that a meet-the-folks session was in the plans for tonight, but I’m sure we’ll run into each other soon. Why not, you ask?” He winked at me, and I shivered. It was incredible how he affected me. In a dangerous way.
“You’ll have to ask your sister. She’s the one calling the shots.”
Chapter Seventeen
WE SAT FACING EACH OTHER ACROSS A TINY table in a cavelike restaurant in the Marais. Dozens of flickering candles illuminated the space around us. Our legs were crisscrossed under the table, mine resting between his, and the feeling of his body touching mine kept my blood on a constant low boil from the moment we sat down until we left.
I kept trying to fight the feeling that Vincent and I were already a couple. It was our first real date, after all, and, besides the barely believable information Vincent had given me about his monster-hood, I didn’t know anything about him. This was no time to let my guard down. I resolved to keep things light.
“You’ve been speaking English to me all afternoon, and you haven’t made one mistake yet,” I complimented him as we waited for our food to come.
“When you sleep as little as we do, you have a lot of time for things like books and films. I’d rather read in the original language and watch movies without having to read the subtitles. So I’ve managed to learn my favorites: English, Italian, and some of the Scandinavian languages.”
“Okay, I’m starting to feel intimidated.”
“I’m sure if you had enough decades to work on it, you’d totally show me up,” he responded, his eyes vivid in the flickering candlelight.
The waiter set our plates in front of us. “Bon appétit,” said Vincent, waiting for me to pick up my fork and knife before touching his own.
“So you eat normal food,” I commented, watching Vincent cut a piece off his magret de canard.
“What? Were you expecting me to order raw brains? I thought we were going to stay away from unearthly topics of conversation tonight,” he said with a grin.
“It’s not every night I have di
“We eat normal stuff. We drink normal stuff. We don’t sleep, except when we’re dormant, which doesn’t really count as sleeping. Anyway, everything else works the same. . . .” His eyes narrowed brazenly, and his lips formed a sexy smile. “Or so I’ve heard.”
I blushed and concentrated intently on my silverware.
“Kate?”
“Mmm?”
“What’s the rest of your name?”
I met his eyes. “Kate Beaumont Mercier. Beaumont’s my mom’s maiden name.”
“It’s French.”
“Yes. I’ve got French roots on both sides of the family. Anyway, naming your kids after your maiden name is a Southern thing. And the South is where Mom grew up. In Georgia, actually.”
“It’s all falling into place now.” Vincent smiled.
“How about you?”
“Vincent Pierre Henri Delacroix. We get two middle names in France. Pierre’s my dad’s name, and my grandfather was Henri.”
“Sounds very aristocratic.”
“Maybe way, way back.” Vincent laughed. “But my family was nothing like Jean-Baptiste’s. It’s easy to tell what kind of background he’s from.”
“Jean-Baptiste,” I murmured. “He doesn’t seem very fond of me.”
Vincent’s face darkened. “I want you to know that, though Jean-Baptiste is like my own family, his opinion of you doesn’t matter to me. If you want him to like you, then I will reassure you: It will come. You have to earn his trust . . . he doesn’t give it easily. But until then, you are with me. He will respect my choice and be civil from now on.”
Vincent saw the doubt on my face and said quickly, “That is, of course, if we keep seeing each other. Which I hope we will.”
I nodded to show I understood, and Vincent, seemingly relieved to see I hadn’t made a run for it after his overearnest diatribe, changed the subject. “So are you and your sister very close?”
“Yeah, she’s not even two years older than me, so we’ve always joked about being twins. But we’re totally different.”
“How so?”
I took a bite and thought about how to describe my sister, the social butterfly, without making her sound shallow.
“Georgia is a total extrovert. Not like I’m exactly a shrinking violet, but I don’t mind spending time by myself. My sister has to be with people twenty-four/seven. In New York everyone knew her. She always managed to find the best parties and was continually surrounded by her entourage: band members, DJs, performance artists.”
“And let me guess . . . you were too busy reading and going to museums to join her.” I laughed when I saw Vincent’s wry grin.
“No, I went with her sometimes. But I wasn’t in the spotlight like Georgia. I was just Georgia’s little sister, along for the ride. She took care of me. She always nominated someone in her group to make sure I had a good time.”
I didn’t explain how she would always choose a “date” for me: gorgeous hipster guys who, to my amazement, enthusiastically took on the challenge of entertaining Georgia’s sister. A few of these setups had turned into something more. Not much more, really, but if one of these guys happened to be at a party Georgia and I went to, I knew I had someone to dance with, sit next to, and maybe kiss in some dark corner of the room later in the night. Georgia called them my “party boys.”
Now, with Vincent sitting across the table from me, larger than life, they seemed like ghosts. Shadows, in comparison to him.
“I worried how she would handle having to step down from her queen-of-nightlife throne when we moved,” I continued, “but I underestimated her. She’s well on her way to reaching the same level here.”
“Different city, same scene?”