N. Walters - Damek's Redemption

Classical music was quietly being piped into the space through unseen speakers. She didn’t recognize it, but she wasn’t all that familiar with classical music. Classic rock and pop were more her speed. Whatever it was, it was soothing and romantic. She would have preferred a rousing march or something faster and louder, anything to disturb the cocoon of intimacy he was building around them.

She might not have dated all that much, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew when a man was setting the stage for a seduction, and this had all the earmarks of one—a quiet dinner, a limo, soft music, champagne on the way to the restaurant.

The sound of a quiet pop brought her attention back to Damek. He’d opened the bottle and was already pouring some of the golden liquid into a crystal champagne flute, which he’d pulled out of a velvet-lined drawer next to the fridge.

“Try some. You don’t have to finish it if you don’t like it.” Like the most practiced sommelier, he handed her the glass.

It would be a shame not to at least try it. After all, he’d opened the bottle just for her, and on her salary she wouldn’t be buying a bottle of the stuff anytime soon. She had her fingers clutched tight around her purse so she disengaged them and set her bag on the seat beside her. She licked her lips and reached for the glass, trying not to notice how her hand trembled as she took it. She hoped he wouldn’t notice but had a feeling he was the kind of man who didn’t miss anything.

She brought the glass to her lips and took a sip. The bubbles tickled her tongue and the golden liquid flowed down her throat. “Oh, this is wonderful.” She’d never tasted anything quite like it and knew she would never forget it. On the sinful scale, it rated right up there with dark Belgian chocolate.

“I’m glad you like it.”

His low voice set off tiny explosions in the nerve endings in her body, making all of them come alive with anticipation. It was then she noticed he wasn’t drinking champagne. He’d poured himself a dark red wine instead. He swirled the liquid in the crystal glass, the blood-red color glinting off the interior lights.

“You’re not having champagne?”

Damek shook his head. “It’s not to my taste. I prefer a full-bodied drink.” He put the wineglass to his lips and drank. His throat rippled as he swallowed and her gazed followed the strong column of muscle until it disappeared into the neck of his shirt.

She’d seen men drink before, but never had she found it such an erotic activity. Sonia took another sip of champagne, touched that he would open the bottle of such an expensive vintage just for her.

Her eyes narrowed the more she thought about it. “I’m not sleeping with you,” she blurted out. Some men thought if they bought drinks and dinner it paid for their way into her bed. Better to rid him of that notion right now before their night went any further.

Damek seemed startled by her declaration, then he threw back his head and laughed. Heat crept up her cheeks as it occurred to her he might not even be all that attracted to her. Maybe the flirting came natural to him. And how depressing was that.

Obviously, he was a rich guy and used to things like fancy cars and champagne. Just because she dreamed about him and thought he looked like sex on a stick didn’t mean he felt the same way about her.

Sonia was mortified and bent her head to study her shoes. “Maybe you should drop me off at my hotel.” Better to leave now than to keep humiliating herself.

His laugher ceased and he caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger, applying pressure until she looked at him. “I am not laughing at what you said, Sonia, but at your spontaneity. It is so refreshing.”

“I’ll bet,” she groused. He probably had beautiful, sophisticated women throwing themselves at him all the time. No wonder an ordinary academic amused him. She was different from what he was used to.

He ran his thumb over her cheek and shook his head. “Make no mistake, my sweet. I want you.” She gasped as his thumb traced her bottom lip, leaving it tingling in his wake. “But when you come to my bed it will be of your own free will and not because I expect it or bought you dinner or plied you with expensive champagne.”

Struck speechless once again, a feat that would no doubt shock her family to their core, Sonia said nothing. Her hands clung to the delicate stem of her champagne goblet as the smell of leather and Damek surrounded her. She was afraid to move, afraid she might actually throw herself at him and tell him to skip dinner.

He wanted her. He’d said when she came to his bed, not if.

Holy cow. That was something to wrap her head around. It was one thing to have an erotic dream about the man, quite another to hear him say he wanted her in such a low, seductive manner that made her cream her panties.

Damek leaned in closer and she wished he wasn’t wearing dark glasses, wished she could see his eyes. Their noses were almost touching and his breath was warm on her lips. “We’re here.” He sat back, drained his wineglass and set it aside.

Sonia turned her head away and sucked in a deep breath. She was in way over her head with this man, but she no longer cared. They would have dinner and she would ask her questions of him.

After that, well, only time would tell.

Damek breathed a sigh of relief as the blood he’d drunk sank into his cells, feeding his relentless hunger. He was thankful for the sunglasses, knowing his eyes had probably been tinged with red, as he’d been so tempted to kiss her, to lick her soft skin. With his preternatural sense of sound, he could hear her blood rushing through her veins, a lure, an offering. Hear the catch of her breath and the flutter of her pulse.

And her scent was driving him to distraction. It wasn’t expensive perfume, but the honest smell of woman and soap, tinged with the delicate aroma of arousal. It mingled with the rich tang of grapes from the champagne and the leather from the seats. He inhaled deeply, pulling it into his lungs.

Sonia was both nervous and excited at the same time, and if she held on to the stem of her glass any tighter she was going to shatter the delicate crystal. He reached out, plucked the champagne flute from her hand and set it beside his empty wineglass.

The short drive from the club had been both a pleasure and sheer torture, but it had also insured that if John Barnes were still watching her, he would have no idea she’d left through a back entrance of Inhibitions with him. The vampire hunter would have to assume she was still in the club unless he went in looking for her. And even if he did, he wouldn’t know where she went. For now, she was safe.

His gaze was drawn once again to Sonia with her barely restrained black, curly hair and deep gray eyes that seemed to see far more than was comfortable for him. There was something about Sonia, her unrestrained thoughts and her obvious pleasure in the champagne that warmed him. And for a vampire, there was no bigger lure than a woman who could steal the chill from his soul and replace it with something else, something that made him believe his soul wasn’t quite as bankrupt as he believed.

It was dangerous to hope, but Damek found he couldn’t help himself. He’d long ago learned the trick of living in the minute, for the past was a graveyard littered with thousands of people he’d known, and the future was endless. That was what he planned to do with Sonia—live in the moment. They would have dinner and conversation and, if things went well, their evening would continue.

But it was entirely up to her. He would take nothing she did not give freely.

The car came to a stop and moments later the door opened and his driver stepped back. Damek climbed out and offered Sonia his hand. “Come.”