P.C. Cast - Mysteria Nights

Colin took her hand in his, and Summer had to force herself not to gasp. His grip was strong, but she’d expected that. He was, after all, a very big man who had very big hands. It was the temperature of his skin that shocked her. Being touched by him was like being touched by an awakened statue. His hand was smooth, hard, and cool. Their eyes met again, and Summer was jolted by the dark intensity with which he was studying her—as if she was, at that moment, the most important thing in his universe. She’d only known of one species of Mysteria’s creatures who could spear someone with such intensity and whose skin felt like molded marble . . .

“You’re a vampire!” she blurted, pulling her hand free of his firm grip.

His smile was slow and knowing, not in the least bit ruffled by her statement. “I am. Both of my brothers and I are vampires. It runs in the family, you know,” he said smoothly.

“Does it?” Summer made herself not wipe her tingling palm down the side of her slacks.

“It does when you’re all bitten by the same master vampire,” he said.

Summer noticed that when he spoke to her, the playful sparkle that Jenny seemed to automatically evoke in his eyes changed . . . darkened, and even though he was no longer touching her, he was still studying her with that uncomfortable intensity. Feeling weirdly light-headed, Summer spoke more briskly than she’d intended. “That’s interesting. Maybe we can talk about it later. Right now I think we should start our field trip. If that’s okay with you—or your brother. Is Barnabas really not here?”

Colin cocked his head and looked down at her, a small curve of amusement shadowing his full lips. “Barnabas is in Paris drowning himself in wine and young Frenchmen so that he can forget being jilted by Hunter Knight.” The vampire shrugged one of his broad shoulders. “Foolish of him to become so obsessed with a straight guy. I tried to tell Barnabas that Hunter’s as gay as I am.”

“Which is to say not at all,” Jenny chimed in.

Colin’s grin was almost a leer. He answered Jenny, but his eyes stayed on Summer. “Yes, ma’am. You’re right about that.”

“So, does that mean the field trip is off?” Summer said, wondering why Jenny’s flirting with Colin should annoy her.

“Not at all. The reason I moved to town temporarily from my ranch is because Barnabas asked me to babysit this special exhibit. The field trip is definitely on. Besides, you just got here, Miss Smith. I’d hate for you to leave until we’ve gotten to know each other better.” Colin’s dark eyes trapped her gaze, and she felt her breathing deepen.

Is he making me dizzy? Is he working a vampire mojo on me? Summer mentally shook herself. She was being ridiculous. Magic didn’t work on her. Or if it did, it went way wrong. Her overactive imagination and hormones were the only things working on her. What was probably happening was she was displacing her excitement about the impending dream date with Ken. No way was she interested in this vampire! He definitely didn’t fit in with her well-thought-out plan for her future. “Excellent. Let’s get started. The students have really been looking forward to this field trip,” she lied.

“I hadn’t been thinking much about this field trip at all.” Colin lowered his voice so that it seemed to brush against Summer’s skin. “At least not until I saw who was leading it. Now I do believe it’s going to be a very interesting experience. It is good to meet you, Miss Smith.” He tipped an imaginary hat to her in a cowboylike move that appeared to be second nature to him. Then he raised his voice so that the waiting students could hear. “Come on in and check out the art. And, yes, there are some nudes.”

There were spontaneous high fives given in response as the students filed into the gallery.

“Ladies, if you’ll follow me, I’ll give you a more personal tour,” Colin said. Though he spoke to both women, his eyes rested on Summer’s face hungrily. He strode into the main gallery, giving Summer plenty of time to take in the faded jeans that snuggled his firm ass and the broad shoulders that strained the fabric of the black, long-sleeved shirt he wore. And were those cowboy boots? On a vampire? Sweet Goddess, gay Barnabas’s brother was a sexy cowboy vampire!

“Damn, Summer! Are you secreting some kind of come-fuck-me! hormone? Tall, dark, and vampire is clearly hitting on you.”

Summer pulled her eyes from Colin’s muscular body and managed to scoff. “Oh, please. I’m so not interested in him.”

“Really? That’s not what your nipples are saying. Better check your control, girlfriend.”

Horrified, Summer glanced down to see the outline of her very obviously aroused nipples pressing against her cream-colored blouse. Hastily she crossed her arms over her chest and muttered, “It’s just cold in here,” as she hurried into the gallery with Jenny’s knowing laughter following her.

“All right! Move away from the nude, and no one gets hurt!” Jenny snapped, and the group of gawking teenage boys shuffled reluctantly away from the full frontal nudity of George Wilson’s The Spring Witch .

Colin waited until the three of them were alone before saying, “Wilson was a big fan of Dante and William Blake, so he liked the poetic and romantic subject here.”

Summer blinked in surprise up at Colin. The tall vampire actually seemed to know something about art.

“Huh!” Jenny snorted a little testily. “I don’t see anything terribly romantic about witches. Sexy—maybe. Wanton—for sure. Romantic? Nah.”

“The subject isn’t a witch as we know them in Mysteria,” Colin explained, his eyes on the nude painting. “It’s actually Persephone as she emerges from the underworld. See the pomegranate in her hand?”

“Oh, well, that makes more sense. Goddesses are definitely romantic,” Jenny admitted.

“What do you think of her, Miss Smith?”

Colin’s question, as well as the intense gaze he shifted from the painting to her, caught Summer unaware, and she automatically said what was foremost in her mind. “I think I like her body better than most of the other women in the exhibit. They look too manly.”

Colin’s brows lifted. “I agree with you, Miss Smith. The Pre-Raphaelites tended to give their female models masculine characteristics. I like my woman to look like a woman, and not like a man in drag.”

“As if that matters to the germs and hormones,” Jenny said, eyes lighting on a group of laughing, jostling teenage boys clustered around the huge, colorful, and seminude painting of Toilette of a Roman Lady. “Excuse me for a sec. I’m going to kick some boy butt.”

As she hurried toward the students, Summer called, “Herd them back into the main gallery in front of the Romeo and Juliet painting. I’m going to give them their topic for the essay assignment.”

Jenny’s teeth flashed white as she grinned over her shoulder. “Oh, good. They’ll hate that.”

And, just like that, Summer and Colin were left completely alone for the first time.

She didn’t have to look up at him to know his eyes were on her. Again. She could feel his gaze—against her skin, inside her blood. It heated her body, arousing her nipples and making her inner thighs tingle, and her woman’s core became hot and wet and needy . . . needy for his touch, which wouldn’t be sweet and gentle and loving, as she’d fantasized about Ken’s touch being. Colin’s touch would be like his body: hard and strong and sexy. No, Colin was nothing like Ken.

“What are you thinking about?”

His deep voice came from very close to her. When had he stepped into her personal space? She looked up at him. Those eyes! They’re so intense—so sexy. He was close enough that his scent came to her, and it, too, was a surprise. Instead of smelling like the grave or worse, like a carnivorous, bloodsucking monster, Colin smelled as sexy as he looked. His scent was man mixed with something spicy, like cinnamon or even more exotic, like cloves and darkness and cool nighttime breezes sifting over love-dampened skin.