Bound by Forever (True Immortality 3)

Then she felt it.

All the fine hairs on her body rose as if static electricity charged the air.

There was another supernatural in the vicinity.

She veered between triumph and anxiety.

Hoping neither showed on her face, she turned her head to follow the feeling and her eyes locked with a vampire’s.

Beams of light flickered across the vamp’s face, causing his eyes to flash mercury silver.

With a coquettish tilt of her head, she gave him a deliberately bashful but inviting smile and then continued to push through the crowd toward the edge of the room where there was space to breathe.

To her gratification, the nape of her neck tingled. Awareness tightened her muscles.

He was following her.

Once she’d stepped out of the wave of human bodies that pulsed toward the stage, she turned to lean against a wall. It wasn’t hard to pretend she needed a moment to compose herself.

How anyone thought this was good craic, she’d never understand. It was minus craic, as they said back home.

She’d take a cozy fireplace, an armchair, and a bloody good book over this shit any day of the week.

You were born an eighty-year-old woman, you know that?

Pain clawed at her throat and she grit her teeth, forcing his voice from her head.

Then the vampire was there.

He was the same height as she was with a wiry, ropy physique that belied his strength. None of the humans would know just how strong he was. His dark hair was slicked back off his forehead and looked oily under the lights.

She supposed, though, he had a pretty face with his cut cheekbones and pouty, full lips.

She brushed her fingers across the imaginary sweat on her forehead and gave him a shrug. “It’s a bit warm in here!”

He smirked as he approached and then as he inhaled, he tensed. His eyes flashed silver and he stared at her, completely arrested.

Pretending to be oblivious to the reason why, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and asked shyly, “Something wrong?”

He shook his head. “No. You are just very beautiful.”

The vamp had an accent. Not Lithuanian. She wasn’t sure where he was from. Her vision didn’t tell her that much. He was perhaps Scandinavian or Nordic. She wasn’t schooled enough in accents to be certain either way.

Does it matter? She felt that familiar burn of irritation, this time at herself.

“You’re very kind!” She had to keep pretending that she thought she needed to yell for him to hear her. In truth, they’d both be able to hear each other if they whispered, even in this racket.

What kind of music was this? Could a person even categorize it as music? What happened to melody and lyrics and storytelling?

Christ, I really am an eighty-year-old woman.

The vampire touched her waist, reminding her to focus. She tried not to stiffen at his touch. He smelled faintly of blood beneath his sandalwood cologne. She forced herself not to recoil when his head dipped toward her ear. “Would you like to go somewhere? A place we can talk?”

Her pulse skittered and she knew he probably heard it. Hopefully he mistook it for sexual awareness. She nodded, and he pulled back to smile triumphantly. There was nothing in his eyes but malice and hunger.

She wondered how his victims couldn’t see that.

And where was his partner in crime?

Allowing herself to be led around the edges of the crowd toward a door at the back of the club, she pretended not to notice that when he pushed down on the handle, he snapped the lock.

She further pretended not to notice the way her whole body tightened with renewed awareness, the hairs springing up on her arms.

The female vamp was near now too.

Bracing herself, she gripped the vamp’s hand tightly as he led her down the dank hallway. Everything in this building was built from thick concrete. It was no wonder the noise from the deejay was just a dull thud outside.

Even here in the hallway it was significantly muffled. So much so she heard the door at the top of the hallway slam. Even a human would have heard it, so she knew it was okay to glance over her shoulder.

The female vampire sashayed toward them in a long, seductive, electric-blue dress that clung to her slender curves. Rich red lipstick painted her lips. She walked in six-inch stilettos like they were sneakers. God, this vamp was such a bloody cliché.

“My wife.” The male vamp’s mouth was at her ear. “You don’t mind if she joins us, do you?”

She scanned the hallway for cameras and spotted one above the door entrance on the opposite corner. Ignoring the vamp whose hands were clamped tight on her hips, she turned in his arms and saw the other camera at the opposite end of the narrow corridor. It was pointed at the exit door.