Page 68 of Bruised MC Bear
3
Sonya
Istoppedmyself when I remembered where we were. Placing my hand back on the luggage cart handle, I continued pushing my cart down the ramp.
Vincent fell into step beside me. “Calm down.”
“Calm down? I won’t make a scene, but you’re … you’re not … I have no idea what you are. Shit, this was a bad idea.”
“It’s okay. I’ll explain in the car. Let me help you with the cart.”
“Fine.”
I picked up my laptop bag and purse from the top of the luggage pile, and let him handle the cart. We walked the rest of the way in silence. Following a few strides behind him, I kept a sharp, distrustful eye on him. When we made it to his waiting stretch limousine, the driver opened the passenger door for us. Vincent motioned for me to get inside while the driver loaded my things.
I scampered across the L-shaped back seat to the spot directly behind the driver’s seat, wishing there was more space between this Vincent character and me. He took his seat. I could swear the energy flowing from him felt like a blade piercing my chest.
Swallowing hard, I went for it. I had to know before this vehicle took off. “Are you going to tell me what the hell you are? Warlock? Demon?”
“Try vamp.” His voice was calm, as though he’d just told me the name of his favorite cereal or something just as banal.
“Vamp … did you just say you’re … a … you’re a vampire?”
“Axe and Angel didn’t tell you?”
“Clearly not.”
He faced forward and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps they thought it would be rude.”
“Rude? Telling a wolf shifter she’s about to meet a vampire is not rude. It’s a goddamned necessity. It’s more dangerous not to. Do you even know how hard it was not to shift and rip out your throat back there in the terminal?”
“You don’t mince words, I see. Yes, I believe I do, but I’ve had a while to adjust. Relax. I won’t hurt you.”
“Youwon’t hurtme?” I looked out the window and shook my head. “You should be worried about whether or not I will hurt you. Hang on. It’s daytime. How are your even out in the sunlight?”
“I’ve had some time to figure out walking in the daylight. I gather you’ve never met a vampire before?”
“Never.”
“And you’re flying in from Eastern Europe? I’m surprised.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re telling me you’ve never been in the company of a vampire. Okay, let’s say that’s true.”
“It is.”
The driver closed the trunk door and got in the driver seat. He wasn’t able to fit everything in the trunk, so he placed the bike case in the front passenger seat. Vincent smiled into the mirror and pressed the button to close the privacy divider between the driver and us.
“I’m not saying I don’t believe you … let me ask you another way. That instinct you felt in the terminal. Have you ever experienced anything similar before?”
I was about to dismiss his question without any thought. After all, he was a vampire. I’d been raised to believe that if I ever encountered one, I needed to shift swiftly, attack with no hesitation, and run like hell afterward. But something about his question resonated. Come to think about it, I’d had this burning in my gut before. I could recall at least one time at an outdoor bistro in Bulgaria, and on at least two occasions in the Carpathian mountains in Romania. I traveled there on many weekends to hike to the deep woods and shift to wolf form. For all of those times, I remember dismissing the gut feeling as my being jittery from shifting in a new country.
Son of a bitch.
Were all those raging instincts my response to vampires?
I glanced over at him for a split second. “Maybe.”
