Caridad Pineiro - Kissed by a Vampire

Her strength proved even more enticing to him than her attractive physical shell. Because of that, he would not abuse the weakness she had exposed to him. Gently he took her hand into his and softly said, “Thank you.”

“Thank you?” she repeated, clearly shocked by his actions.

“Yes, thank you. Since that night I’ve doubted my sanity at times. I’ve relived every minute through nightmares. More often than was good. And I’ve suffered as I wondered if I was losing my mind,” he confessed, offering her his own weaknesses.

Would she abuse that disclosure or provide him yet another reason to be interested in her? he wondered.

“There are scarier things than dreams that can come to you at night,” she said, with-drawing her hand from his, clearly unused to such gentleness or gratitude.

“Like you?” he challenged, arching one brow as he took another sip of his wine.

His comment dragged a devilish smile to her full lips.

“You should be afraid of me,” she said, but it was almost as if she was trying to remind herself of what she was since whatever connection had occurred between them had somehow lessened her scariness factor.

“I’ll try to remember that,” he joked, earning a broadening of her smile.

She had a beautiful one, but he somehow knew it didn’t come easily. It didn’t fit the persona she preferred to show to the world. A persona she had likely adopted to protect herself from the earlier hurt she had inadvertently revealed to him.

But the smile fit this human persona she was showing him quite nicely.

Picking up a piece of cheese and topping it with a paper-thin slice of serrano ham, he brought it to her lips. Seemingly understanding that he wasn’t going to press further about the fateful night of their first meeting, she opened her mouth and accepted his offering, but as she did so, she playfully bit his thumb and said, “Tasty.”

He grinned, and when she mimicked his actions, presenting him with a bite of cheese and ham, he grasped her hand and accepted the food. Licked the tip of her index finger before sucking it into his mouth.

“Tastier,” he said, playing her game.

Stacia barely controlled the shiver that worked through her body and the painful need his actions roused.

“Why are you doing this?” She was confused by what he thought he would accomplish, as well as sensing this was one human who was going to be quite difficult to control.

“Because I don’t believe in monsters or things that go bump in the night.”

He was testing her, not that she would be stupid enough to morph into her demon in so public a place.

“Maybe when we finish, we should go somewhere private so I can eliminate any doubts you might have.”

“Maybe” was all he said as he picked up an olive and popped it into his mouth. Followed that up with a piece of bread and cheese before he said, “What were you doing tonight at the Widget?”

“Seasoning a prospective meal,” she answered honestly, needing to create distance between them because she was feeling too exposed. “What were you doing there?”

Alex sipped his wine. “Looking for a man.”

“You didn’t strike me as a switch-hitter.” Stacia chuckled and then took an olive from the assorted tapas on the table and popped it into her mouth.

After a hearty laugh, Alex leaned closer and said, “The man might have a connection to a friend’s missing daughter.”

So he had been on the job, she thought, wondering what he did here in Miami. Whether it was the same kind of work that had nearly gotten him killed in New York. Realizing that discretion was necessary as long as they were in public, she also shifted closer and asked as softly as she could, “Is it part of your assignment here?”

“It’s part of what I do.” The silence that followed those few words confirmed to her that there was little else he could say without compromising his position. Because she didn’t want the night to end since she was enjoying his presence, she asked, “Did you grow up in Miami?”

“Born and raised, although my parents came here from Cuba.”

“Ah, Cuba. It was a beautiful place the last time I visited.” She didn’t add that her visit had been in the 1600s, but somehow he understood not to ask.

“And you? Where were you—”

“Lived and died in Rome,” she immediately answered, hardening his earlier smile into a tight, thin line.

“If I believe what all logic says, I shouldn’t—”

“Believe,” she urged, understanding his conflict and the angst it brought him in his nightmares. Believing was a first step to dealing with all that upset and accepting the truth about what she was.

About what had really happened that night. Maybe then he could drive those bad dreams from his mind.

“ If I believe what you say as true, then I guess it would seem right to ask how old you were when … you know, when it happened?”

“It” being her turning, she assumed. Her death as a human and resurrection as a vampire. But it had been quite a long time since she had told that tale and she wasn’t quite ready to repeat it tonight. Especially not to him. He had already touched parts of her psyche that had been closely guarded for centuries.

“That’s a long story that I think would be better told at some other time.”

Alex appeared to accept her reluctance and backed away. “Some other time, then,” he said and motioned to the tapas remaining on the table. “Would you like a bit more? If not, I’ll walk you home.”

She shook her head. “That gallant gesture is wasted on me. I’m more than capable—”

“Of protecting yourself. I’m sure you are, but a gentleman always walks a lady home.”

Since it seemed clear she wanted no further sustenance from the goodies he had ordered, he tossed some bills on the table and rose, offering her his arm.

To his surprise—and hers—she accepted it.

Bright and early the next morning, Alex was at his desk, perusing the inches-thick file with information the DEA had gathered over the years on the activities in the Widget.

Unfortunately, even with all their information, they had been unable to take any kind of action against the owners of the club or any of the suspects involved in the criminal activities at the location.

And what a smorgasbord of illegal activities, he thought as he flipped through the reports.

Drugs. Illegal gambling. Prostitution and a number of missing women who had been known to frequent the Widget.

The last brought him upright in his chair. Maybe the suspects at the club were involved in more than just providing favors. Maybe they were also luring young girls into the business or even selling them, either of which could account for Andrea McAnn’s alleged disappearance at the club. But of all the missing women, only Andrea had last been seen in the Widget. The others had apparently disappeared from a few of the nearby clubs.

“You seem incredibly absorbed in that file, Garcia,” said Carlos Orendain, the head of his department, as he exited his office.

Orendain sauntered to Alex’s workstation, thick forearms crossed against the even more muscular expanse of his chest. Since his chief barely topped five foot seven and his head seemed to rest immediately on his shoulders, all the muscle made him look like a squat fireplug.

Alex tossed the papers he had been reading onto his desk and leaned back in his chair, seemingly nonchalant. Orendain had a tendency to be controlling with his agents and their cases. He would never approve of Alex deciding to investigate the club unless it appeared as if Orendain had made the decision. With that in mind, he said, “The Widget seems like an interesting place, Chief. Lots going on there.”