Solving the Vampire Murders

twenty-three

Clint wrapped strong arms around Mandy's shoulders then placed a kiss on her head. "Just wait," he said sweetly. "We are going to change the world."

Mandy forced herself to smile even though her vampiric instincts were screaming. She knew how volatile Clint could be, and if he was happy, then life was easier.

So, she slid her hands around Clint's trim waist, resting her cheek against his neck--which Clint seemed to like. He patted the back of her head, hand roaming down to the small of her back. Meanwhile, everything inside Mandy was crawling with disgust.

Tilting his face so his lips were pressed to her ear, Clint whispered, "No more distractions."

No more distractions.

The cold words buried inside her heart. She didn't want to be a distraction. Distractions were fun but fleeting. They took your mind off reality and let it wander down a road you wouldn't normally take. After the fun was had and you were ready to get back to work, a distraction could easily be set aside.

No. Mandy didn't want to be a distraction. She wanted to be the reason—the fire burning inside Faris' chest. Last night inside his lab, she thought there was a chance he wanted her the way she wanted him.

Why--why do you make it so hard for me? Why can't I tell you no?

Her gaze landed on Faris' tall frame. Long fingers were tucked inside his pockets. A look of irritation twisting his features. Sharp incisors winking between perfect lips.

Those lips had done murderously wonderful things to her. They had kissed her. Whispered against her neck in a candlelit bedroom. Swept over lace and silk. Moved wordlessly over unmentionable skin. Each brush of those lips had set her still-human heart racing that night. When she couldn't take it any longer, when she was panting his name, fingers twisting in satin sheets, Faris had pressed his lips to her neck one final time and stopped her heart forever.

He had made and unmade her that night.

Looking back, Mandy couldn't help but wonder why he had chosen her. Was it impulse, instinct, or was it because they had shared an intimate moment—swapping memories of their fathers and drinking red wine.

"I don't normally talk this much," Faris had said, looking up at her through feathered lashes. "I apologize for making the evening macabre."

Mandy had reached for his hand, swept away in the vulnerability of the moment and the wine and his oddly comforting presence. "Don't apologize. Honestly, I could listen to you talk all night long."

A flash of desire stretched open his pupils like a sun in eclipse.

Mandy swallowed down the memory. Had she been his distraction that night? Like the pack of cigarettes he kept tucked inside his car. He'd allow himself the occasional drag but refused to call himself a smoker. Was that all she was to him? A distraction from work, from Clint, from this coven, from his father's memory?

Faris had standards for a proper mate and she hadn't measured up to more than a distraction.

Mandy nodded agreement against Clint's neck. "No more distractions." Her voice more breath than words. Spoken more to herself than to him.

A low, approving growl rattling in Clint's throat. "That a girl."

"Babe," Shari whined. "Come on, let's go downstairs. You promised me some time alone before you have to leave."

With a wink, Clint released his hold on Mandy and sauntered to where Shari sat atop one of the tables. She squealed with delight when he lifted her up by the knees, her body hugged to his. Clint hungrily kissed her décolletage as he carried her towards the exit.