I couldn’t be less interested. “Uh huh,” I tell her, trying to figure out what the necklace is doing to me.
“He’s not either of our types, but fucking hell, I want to jump over all the tables and maul him. He is beautiful.” She pauses. “Lenore. You’re not even looking.”
I give an exasperated sigh and tear my eyes away from the menu.
Look across to the bar.
Where they lock with Absolon’s gaze.
My eyes widen, air caught in my throat.
“Oh my god, he’s staring at you,” Elle whispers harshly. “He’s walking over here!”
She’s right. Solon, his gaze still holding mine captive, strides gracefully through the restaurant toward us. For a moment I’m outside my body, ignoring the way the ruby burns at my throat, the way my heart is doing summersaults, how my thighs are clenching together as they try to calm the lust that’s suddenly flaring inside me.
I’m able to look at Absolon through Elle’s eyes.
And he really is the most gorgeous creature in the world.
Today he’s wearing just a dark-teal dress shirt, no tie, but a pair of sunglasses hanging from his collar, black pants, expensive-looking shoes. His black hair is slicked off his face, showing off his perfect hairline, his dark brows putting his eyes in shadow, the blue playing off the color of his shirt. His body is tall, lean, but packed with muscle, and he moves with such stealthy confidence that every head in this place is turning and watching him come towards me.
My vampire.
I try to swallow, try to move, to do something, because I know this isn’t a good thing, to have that world and this world collide like this, have Elle and Absolon together, but I can barely even think.
“Lenore,” Solon says to me, stopping in front of the table, his accent sounding more British today, that voice smooth and rich as cream. “Sorry I’m late.”
My eyes go even wider, and he leans over and kisses me on the cheek and I feel like my heart just went off like a bomb, my body shivering on the outside, a burst of heat and ice.
I’m speechless. I look down at the menu, trying to breathe, while Solon takes the seat beside me.
Why is he here?
“My apologies,” Solon says, and when I look up, he’s talking to Elle, holding his hand out across the table. “You seem surprised. I was sure that Lenore would have told you I was coming. I’m Solon.”
Elle’s mouth drops open and then she quickly snaps it shut. She shakes his hand, and I notice she winces just a little from what must be a strong, cold grip. “Uh, hi. I’m Elle.” She takes her hand back, shaking it slightly as she looks at me expectantly. “And no, Lenore didn’t tell me we were having company.”
“It slipped my mind,” I manage to say. My cheek burns from where his lips met my skin, though at least the ruby necklace has cooled down.
“Lenore has told me so much about you,” Solon goes on, and now I’m frowning, feeling a strange sense of panic, because I never told him anything about Elle. Either he’s lying or he figured some shit out on his own, and with him being a predator that sucks people’s blood to live, the latter is concerning.
“Good things I hope,” Elle says, and I notice her body language has totally changed. She’s leaning forward in her chair, elbow on the table, hand in her chin, and staring at him with heart eyes.
Stop it, I warn him in my head.
He only flashes Elle a smile that seems to make her melt on the spot, his teeth doing nothing to scare her. Just charming your friend here.
You’re compelling her. I pause. And you’re not wanted here.
You know I am. By you.
That’s what you think.
It’s what I know.
“All good things,” Solon assures her, still smiling.
Elle nods, then finally breaks away from his gaze, looking to me. “You have so much to tell me. When did you meet?” She’s looking back at him, examining his shirt, his hair, his face. Something like realization dawns on her. She stares at me. “Oh my god. Is this the hot guy from The Cloister? Your mystery man?”
Oh god, shut up Elle, I think.
Mystery man? Solon’s thoughts cut right into me. Hot guy?
I dare to look at him. He’s grinning with extreme self-satisfaction.
Great.
I clear my throat, both of them staring at me expectantly. “Yes,” I finally say.
“But how? Where did you see him again?” She leans forward, fingers pressed against the table. “Oh my god, don’t tell me he’s your stalker.”
“Stalker?” Solon asks in mock horror. He puts his elbows on the table, large hands clasped up by his face, and tilts his head as he looks at me, a cunning smile curving his lips. “Tell me more about this stalker.”