Samson's Lovely Mortal (22 page)

“Sure does.” Amaury nodded, obviously understanding what she was thinking about.

“Then let’s see what he’s been up to.”

Eventually his antique rugs would show the wear and tear from his heavy footsteps, but Samson didn’t care. He’d screwed up. He wasn’t angry with Delilah, but rather with himself for not handling the situation right. Since he’d betrayed her trust before when he’d looked into her background and had gotten caught red-handed, she was obviously not cutting him any more slack.

He couldn’t really blame her. Having to accept that she’d slept with a vampire—and liked it—was probably too much to swallow in one big gulp. But he had to get her to accept the fact. And not just that, he had to get her to embrace it, to embrace him, because he knew he couldn’t give her up. When he’d smelled her blood he’d already realized that he was lost, but when he had tasted it, tasted her, he had known there was only one acceptable resolution to their situation: a blood-bond.

Even though Dr. Drake had not helped him resolve any issues before, he’d been right about one thing. A vampire could sense a bond with the person he was meant to blood-bond with, even before the ritual was performed.

Samson sensed this special bond with Delilah. He couldn’t describe the feeling; he just knew that it was right. Almost …
instinctual
… was the word that came to mind. Whenever he looked into her eyes, he lost himself in them and knew she had to sense it too. There’d been such understanding in her eyes the night before that he was certain he wasn’t wrong.

But even if he tried to explain all this to her, he figured she wouldn’t listen to him. Not right now. But maybe she would listen to a professional. He had to try.

Amaury and Delilah weren’t in the kitchen any longer. Samson listened and could hear faint voices coming from his office. What were they up to? He found her sitting in his chair behind the desk with his friend hovering over her as they both stared into the computer screen.

Even though he knew Amaury would never make a pass at his woman, Samson didn’t like how close his body was to hers. His stomach tightened uncomfortably. Would he always be this jealous when another male was close to her? Was this what it meant to love somebody?

He stopped at the open door without making a sound.

“I’m not sure why he would access this file,” Amaury said.

“Wouldn’t this be part of his job?”

“Not really.”

“Can you check what other coded transactions he submitted?”

“Sure. Won’t be easy, though. I should probably get Thomas to help us: he’s the IT expert, not I.”

Delilah, sweetness.

She looked up as if she’d heard his voice, even though he hadn’t spoken. Her eyes met his. Yes, she sensed the connection too, probably without realizing what it was.

“What are you guys working on?” Samson stepped into the office.

“We’re looking into what files John accessed recently,” Amaury answered. Delilah had gone quiet at the sight of him entering the room.

Samson raised an eyebrow. “Good idea, Amaury.”

“It wasn’t mine; it was Delilah’s.”

Samson looked at her with approval. “Even better. Check it out. But I need to steal Delilah from you for now. We have to talk.” He looked at her, but she made no move to get up.

“We have nothing to talk about. I’ll finish the audit, and then I’m leaving. The sooner, the better.” She had that hard, unyielding tone in her voice again.

“We have plenty to talk about. It’s time we resolved our relationship issues.” He walked around the desk as Amaury backed away from her.

Delilah glared at him, defiance in her eyes. “We have no relationship issues, because we have no relationship. I’m not dating a vampire.”

“Trust me; there’s a lot more you’re going to do with this vampire than dating. Let’s go. Dr. Drake’s expecting us.” He took her arm and pulled her out of her chair. She tried to shake him off, but he held her with a firm grip.

“Oh my God—you’re trying to have me turned into a vampire! What is he, some evil surgeon making vampires out of people?” she screamed at him, panic clearly written all over her face.

“Delilah, I’d never turn you into a vampire! How could you think that of me? Do you really think I’d wish this on anybody I care about?” Samson was disgusted at the thought. “Dr. Drake is my psychiatrist.”

Delilah gasped as she tried to digest his words. “You have a shrink?” Since when did vampires lie on a couch? A coffin would be more like it. This was just too bizarre. First of all, vampires shouldn’t exist at all. They were just folklore, myth, or whatever people might call them. And secondly, vampires wouldn’t live regular lives like humans—with visits to the
shrink
!

“Yes, I do, even though I’m sure he prefers to be called psychiatrist.” A tiny smile crept onto his lips.

“He’s a good doctor, even though his methods might be a bit unorthodox,” Amaury noted behind her.

“You’re seeing him, too?” She couldn’t hide her shock. They were both
muy loco
.

“Hey, we all have our issues. It’s not easy living as a vampire.” Amaury threw up his arms.

“What kind of parallel universe did I land in? You guys are nuts, right?” She was trapped in a house with two crazy … vampire wannabes.

“I assure you, I’m perfectly sane, not that I can say the same for my friend here.” Samson gave a smirk.

Okay, perhaps only one crazy vampire wannabe then. Yeah, right!

Instead of a reply, Amaury merely shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“Let’s go. We don’t want to be late for our couple’s therapy session.”

Samson pulled her out of the room and led her downstairs to the garage. To her surprise, he didn’t have Carl drive them. He opened the passenger door of a silver-and-black Audi sports car, an R8. The car looked like it belonged on a race track, not a street of San Francisco.

Samson got into the driver’s seat after he’d closed the passenger door behind her like the perfect gentleman. As he shot out of the garage seconds later, she gave him a sideways glance.

She couldn’t make sense out of what she’d learned. If he was a vampire, why did he not bite her? Wasn’t that what all vampires did? Shouldn’t both he and Amaury be hanging on her neck, drinking her blood?

And for that matter, why in hell wasn’t he cold? Vampires were dead, right? Or undead—either way he shouldn’t have a normal body temperature, should he? Sometimes, he was downright
hot
— She shook her head to disperse the images of Samson over her, behind her, beside her, his shaft impaling, thrusting— Damn it! Enough along
that
line of reasoning. Anyway, it was only one question among about a million she had at the moment.

The thought that Samson operated a security company didn’t make any sense either. Shouldn’t he, as a vampire, attack people rather than protect them? And why was he not living in a cave with bats? Okay, so maybe that was Batman. Wrong superhero.

No, not superhero. Monster. Right, he was a monster.

And, hell
ooo
—since when did monsters look so damn gorgeous and sexy? When he’d dragged her behind him down the stairs into the garage she’d been unable to tear her eyes away from his butt. And more than anything, she wanted to dig her hands into him, maybe even bite him a little. Would he like that?

Stop!

No more thoughts like that. At least she knew for sure now that she wasn’t afraid of him. He seemed to make no attempt to attack her. He’d even sounded disgusted when she’d accused him of wanting to turn her into a vampire. As if that was the furthest thought from his mind.

Delilah looked at her hand. The Band-Aids were still on her fingers, but she knew the cuts had sealed when he’d licked her with his tongue. The tingling sensation she’d felt had shot through her entire body, not just her hand. Just remembering it created goose bumps on her arms.

Samson turned on the heating system. “It’ll get warm in a second. Sorry, I should have brought a sweater for you.”

His concern for her was evident. His hand brushed hers lightly before he put it back on the steering wheel. The moment was so brief she could have dreamed it, but the lingering pleasant tingling on her skin told her she hadn’t. His touch was as real as he was.

Her instincts had been correct in the shower when she’d seen his eyes flash red. And she now understood why there was no mirror in the bathroom. If it was true that vampires didn’t reflect in mirrors then there was no need for him to have one. No wonder he hadn’t been able to be with her during the day. If he was a real vampire, he couldn’t be outside in sunlight without turning into ash.

When he and Amaury had stayed up with her all night, they hadn’t become tired. It was all so clear now. Even when he’d sent Carl out to buy some food for her, she’d bet that there hadn’t been one single edible item in the fridge before. The little signs had been there, but she hadn’t seen them or hadn’t wanted to see them. Even his tremendous strength when he’d kicked the gun out of the thug’s hand was probably because he was a vampire.

And whenever he’d carried her, it had seemed that he’d had to expense no strength at all, as if she was light like a feather, which she knew she definitely wasn’t. There were these few persistent pounds around her waist she could never quite get rid off.

I can’t get you pregnant.

Delilah suddenly remembered his words when he’d realized that the condom had ripped. So it was true: as a vampire Samson couldn’t father children. Why wasn’t she relieved about this? Shouldn’t she be glad that at least she wouldn’t already be pregnant and carry the spawn of a vampire? Strangely the thought of it filled her with regret rather than relief.

She suddenly remembered the strange dreams she’d had. The house she’d seen in her dreams was Samson’s, she was certain now. And the bite on her neck she’d dreamed of? Was this a warning of what was to come? Would he bite her one night in her sleep and drain her? If she was smart, she’d heed the warning.

When the car stopped at a red light, she was wondering why she didn’t make a run for it. She could easily open the car door and jump out. He wouldn’t know what hit him. She was fast and would be able to get away. It would be easy. She eyed the door handle and stretched out her hand.

“Please. Don’t run away.” Samson’s voice wasn’t a command, it was a plea. She met his gaze and noticed his eyes shimmer golden, the same way he’d looked when he’d made love to her in the morning. Delilah put her hand back into her lap and averted her eyes. He shouldn’t look at her that way. It was confusing as hell. She wished he’d flash his fangs again, so she’d have the courage to run, but when he looked at her that way, things didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense. Would it ever again?

When he finally parked the car outside an Edwardian home, she knew they had reached their destination. He didn’t lead her through the main door, but instead showed her to a side door which led to the basement of the building. She hesitated at the door.

“Nobody will hurt you,” he whispered behind her. “I give you my word.” The word of a vampire. She had to be crazy to believe him, after all the lies she’d caught him in.

The blond bimbo at the receptionist’s desk barely gave her a second look and instead looked straight at Samson.

“He’s just finishing up with his last patient. It’ll be a couple of minutes.”

She pointed at the couch. Delilah made no move to sit, and Samson remained at her side.  She looked around the waiting room. There were several comfortable chairs, a coffee table with newspapers … Did she see right?
SF Vampire Chronicle
one of the papers said. They had their own newspaper? She gave Samson a curious look and noticed that he’d been watching her.

“We do read, you know.”

Smartass!

She turned away from him and continued her perusal of the room, not in the mood to engage in any conversation. Her gaze stopped at the vending machine. She suddenly felt thirsty. Maybe she could get a bottle of water or some juice. When she took a step toward the vending machine, she felt Samson’s hand on her arm. She gave him an annoyed look, but he only shook his head slowly.

“I’ll get you something to drink when we get home,” he announced.

“I want some now.” She knew she sounded like a spoiled child, but she didn’t care.

“I don’t think you’ll like what they offer.”

Delilah looked back at the vending machine and focused on the bottles behind the glass. Bottles, small plastic bottles with red juice. Tomato juice?

She took a step closer. Oh, no. This couldn’t possibly be what it looked like! The labels on the bottles said simply
A, B, AB
and
0.

Her stomach dropped. Blood. Blood in a vending machine!

She shot Samson a stunned look. He simply shrugged his shoulders.

Before she could say anything, the door opened, and a man stepped out. He seemed to recognize Samson and gave him a brief smile.

“How are you, Samson?” They shook hands. “You won’t mention this …” He gestured toward the doctor’s office.

Samson shook his head. “Goes without saying. Good to see you, G.”

As soon as the man, who looked strangely familiar to her, passed by her, he suddenly stopped and inhaled deeply. He turned back to Samson and grinned.

“A mortal? You, of all people?” He looked her up and down, making an appreciative sound. Instantly Samson put a protective arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “Not to worry, old friend. I know better than to touch what’s yours. But if you would like me to do the honors, I’d be more than happy to …”

Samson nodded but didn’t release her. “I might just take you up on it.”

The man left, and finally she realized where she’d seen him before. “Was that the—”

“The mayor of San Francisco, yes.”

She gave him a questioning look. “Is he also…?”

Samson nodded. “Yes, he is.”

“What did he mean by doing the honors?”

“I’ll tell you later.”

“Dr. Drake will see you now,” the bimbo interrupted them. “Go right in.”