“Yes.” Her throat felt a little tight, as it always did when she thought of him. “We spent a century together.”
“As friends or as something more?”
“More. Much more.” He had not been the most affectionate of men, but he had been loyal, steady. He had taken care of her. Which seemed ironic now that she had become so independent in the hundred years since his death. She no longer needed that from a man. But she did miss the companionship.
“I can tell by the look on your face you either broke up or he died. I’m sorry.” His fingers enclosed around hers on their mutually dangling hands.
“Thank you. Yes, he died.” Though she wasn’t going to talk about it. Lizette looked over at Johnny, studying the straight line of his jaw. There was something that bothered her if he was telling the truth and he was Johnny. “Why did you fake your death?”
The look he gave her was sheepish and uncomfortable, but she just waited and he finally spoke. “Well, this girl I was dating, she got pregnant.”
“And you were clearly not the father.”
“Exactly. And the thing was, it was like I’ve known for a long time I couldn’t have children, but in that moment it hit me like a ton of bricks. I will never be a father. I’ll never pass any of myself on down to a miniature human. I’ll never get to hold a baby or teach a son how to play ball or grow old while my kids and grandkids sit around a huge dinner table. It all hit me, hard, in a way it hasn’t in decades, that this is it, you know. Just me, and everyone except my few vampire friends will all die, and I won’t. I guess I wanted to see what it would feel like to die.” He finished his drink. “That sounds really damn stupid now.”
But Lizette understood. It had taken her years to accept the fact that she would never be a mother. She squeezed his hand. “Mortality is a strange paradox for vampires. Sometimes we crave death, yet we fear it even more than mortals because it is not inevitable. Vampire death shocks us in a way human death does not any longer.”
“Exactly.” He smiled at her. “How did you get to be so smart?”
When he smiled like that, it was easy to see how she could have been persuaded to have sex with him, especially under the influence of a drug. “I am not smart enough to pass on drugged punch.”
“That’s the thing with drugged punch though. It looks innocent but it has a real kick. Like you, I would imagine.” His thumb was stroking her palm again, not a touch of comfort, but one of intimacy and sexual suggestion.
“You think I have a kick? That I bite?” Lizette set her glass down on the wooden floorboards. “I don’t believe that’s true. I think I have become quite dull.” Actually, she knew she had. Normally it didn’t bother her, but tonight it felt wearisome. There was something to what Johnny had said: If life was eternal, shouldn’t it be enjoyable?
“Then obviously last night was good for you. You needed to come out of your shell a little.”
“Perhaps. Though it would be better if I remembered it.” Then the image of her head thrown back popped into her head. Yes, she would definitely like to remember that. She wasn’t sure she wanted any memory of how she’d wound up in a sex dungeon with four other people though. That went a bit beyond loosening up.
“Not remembering last night is one of my true regrets in life,” he told her, in a way that was so sincere she actually believed him. “But I’m happy to repeat certain parts of it if you’d like.”
It was on her lips to say no automatically. To protest and demure, because that was the appropriate thing to do. But then she thought about it. If she already had compromised the case and would need to reassign another agent to the investigation, what difference did it make if she slept with Johnny again? The cat was already out of the bag, so to speak. So she told him, “I just might like that before the evening has concluded.”
His eyes widened. “Really?”
“We’ll see.” It would take a huge dose of courage on her part, but the idea seriously intrigued her. “That is, if you’re truly interested, and not just jesting.”
“I don’t even know how to jest about sex. I most definitely, absolutely, one hundred percent want you with every fiber of my immortal being.” His eyes had darkened to black and he shifted in his chair. “It was that picture that clinched it, you know. You look so damn sexy with my fangs in your flesh.”
Lizette fought the urge to squirm. She wanted to see the picture again because it had been sexy. They had looked so intimate. So into each other. It was a passionate side of herself she had never seen captured. Yet, it was something that shouldn’t exist, and she knew it.
“You should delete that picture.”
“Fuck that. The dude on the street still has it, so even if I deleted it, it still exists. So why shouldn’t I enjoy it? I may even frame it, put it on the mantel.”
Lizette rolled her eyes, which made him laugh.
“Hey, I’m going to try Saxon again. If I can’t get a hold of him, I think we should go to my place. It’s closer to Zelda’s. Maybe he was wandering around drunk and went to my place by accident.”
It didn’t seem plausible, but she wasn’t going to argue. She didn’t have a better solution and she didn’t know Saxon or what he might do. “Sure. I’m going to call, now as well.”
Not that she knew what to say to him without sounding completely unprofessional. While Johnny dialed on his phone, she dialed on hers, reflecting that it was strange that it no longer seemed to be bothering her as dramatically that she and Johnny had to sit next to each other at all times. She was getting used to their hands hanging in tandem.
“Hello?” Dieter said, voice slightly muffled.
“It is Lizette. Do you have a minute?” she asked, suddenly feeling nervous. What did Dieter know of her behavior?
“Sure.”
“Yes, well, I believe that tomorrow I am going to return to Paris and send a replacement. You will need to stay here to keep an eye on things.”
“Does this have something to do with the drunk text you sent me last night?”
Her face heated. “I sent you a drunk text?”
“Well, I can only assume you were drunk as you don’t usually ask me why I’ve never wanted to fuck you.”
Lizette almost dropped her phone. “What? I did not.”
“You did. And I wasn’t even aware that my fuck factor mattered to you.” He sounded amused, damn him. She was not amused.
“Oh, dear.” She wasn’t sure she could be any more embarrassed. “I can’t imagine why I would say such a thing.”
“Maybe because you were worried that no one would ever fuck you again. That’s the way you put it—that no man ever wants you.”
She had been wrong. She could be more embarrassed. She was going to throw herself off the balcony and run away and start a new life in Mongolia.
“Just kill me now,” she told him. “I am surely not so pathetic as that.” Her celibacy had been a choice, so she couldn’t even imagine why she’d been so weirdly desperate for male approval.
“Lizette, I don’t think that your attractiveness has ever been in question. But you have the Great Wall of China in front of your emotions, and most men don’t have the tools to climb it. So maybe throw a rope down to Johnny and you can get yourself a little bit of cuddle time.”
“Why would you suggest him?” she asked, not about to admit that she already had indulged in cuddle time. Big time. Panty-free time. Probably. She wasn’t entirely sure. As to Dieter’s wall theory, she could not argue with it. It was true, no question about it.
“Anyone could see the sexual tension between you two.”
Ignoring that, she asked, “So did I happen to say anything else? Perhaps detailing my whereabouts or my plans? My memory is a bit hazy.” As in gone. Completely. A glance over at Johnny showed that he had heard her. He shot her a wink.