night. "Wow," she exclaimed, "nice car!"
"Thanks."
"I guess I shouldn't be surprised, since you own a garage. Where is it, anyway?"
He didn't want to tell her, didn't want her dropping by some afternoon or morning when he was taking his rest and wondering why he wasn't at work. Not that he couldn't come up with a plausible fib if he had to, but he didn't want to lie to her. "Over on Seventh and East Streets."
He opened the door for her, then slid behind the wheel. "I checked the paper. The late show starts at nine-twenty. I figure that gives us just enough time to get there."
Cara nodded, her gaze moving over him. Tonight he wore a long black coat over a white shirt and black jeans.
He was the most handsome man she had ever met. Just looking at him stirred a longing deep within her.
Vince pulled into the parking lot a few minutes later, bought two tickets, and handed them to the guy inside the door. He was walking down the corridor toward the theater when he noticed Cara wasn't with him.
He was turning around to look for her when she tapped him on the shoulder.
"I'm a little hungry," she said. "I think I'll get some popcorn."
"Hey, you're with me. I'll buy. What do you want to drink?"
"Lemonade."
He put in her order, paid for it, and followed her down the aisle to theater number three. They found two seats in the back.
The lights went down and the theater closed in on him. So many beating hearts. The scent of blood flowing through a hundred veins. The stink of popcorn and candy and soda. It was like being on sensory overload. He wondered if he would ever get used to it. He wondered about so many things that had to do with his new lifestyle—death-style? Whatever they called it.
"Do you want some popcorn?" she asked.
"No, thanks."
"Lemonade?"
"Too sweet."
"Sorry."
"It's okay, I'm fine."
Numerous commercials and previews flashed across the screen before the movie started.
He couldn't really concentrate on what he was watching. He was all too aware of the woman beside him. Every breath she took, every beat of her heart resonated in his being. Even though there were a hundred other people in the theater, his senses honed in on Cara—the scent of her shampoo and soap, the flowery fragrance that clung to her hair, the fried chicken she'd eaten for dinner, the hot buttery popcorn on her breath. But overall, the sweet scent of her life's blood called to him. It would be so easy to take. If he leaned toward her just a little, and tilted his head just so…
Damn! What was he thinking?
He shifted in his seat. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea, after all! He glanced up at the screen and prayed that the movie would soon be over because he needed to put some space between them pretty darn quick.
Whispering, "I'll be right back," he practically bolted out of his seat.
He went to the entrance of the theater, opened the door, and took several slow, deep breaths. Better, he thought, that was better. Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out. He would be fine now. He wondered if there was a way to block all the sensory input that plagued his every waking moment, and if it was possible, how long it took to master such a thing. All in all, he liked being immortal. He liked the fact that he was impervious to practically everything, that wounds healed overnight, that he could move faster than the human eye could follow. He liked his preternatural senses, too; he just wanted to be able to control them. What he needed was a guidebook for new vampires. He had looked for one online but with no luck. Hell, maybe he should write one!
After taking a last deep breath of fresh air, he returned to his seat.
"About time you got back," she whispered. "I was beginning to think you found another date. What kept you so long?"
"Sorry, darlin'. It won't happen again."
"See that it doesn't," she said, and then she smiled at him.
Slipping his arm around her shoulders, Vince knew he would do just about anything to have her smile at him like
"Thanks."
"I guess I shouldn't be surprised, since you own a garage. Where is it, anyway?"
He didn't want to tell her, didn't want her dropping by some afternoon or morning when he was taking his rest and wondering why he wasn't at work. Not that he couldn't come up with a plausible fib if he had to, but he didn't want to lie to her. "Over on Seventh and East Streets."
He opened the door for her, then slid behind the wheel. "I checked the paper. The late show starts at nine-twenty. I figure that gives us just enough time to get there."
Cara nodded, her gaze moving over him. Tonight he wore a long black coat over a white shirt and black jeans.
He was the most handsome man she had ever met. Just looking at him stirred a longing deep within her.
Vince pulled into the parking lot a few minutes later, bought two tickets, and handed them to the guy inside the door. He was walking down the corridor toward the theater when he noticed Cara wasn't with him.
He was turning around to look for her when she tapped him on the shoulder.
"I'm a little hungry," she said. "I think I'll get some popcorn."
"Hey, you're with me. I'll buy. What do you want to drink?"
"Lemonade."
He put in her order, paid for it, and followed her down the aisle to theater number three. They found two seats in the back.
The lights went down and the theater closed in on him. So many beating hearts. The scent of blood flowing through a hundred veins. The stink of popcorn and candy and soda. It was like being on sensory overload. He wondered if he would ever get used to it. He wondered about so many things that had to do with his new lifestyle—death-style? Whatever they called it.
"Do you want some popcorn?" she asked.
"No, thanks."
"Lemonade?"
"Too sweet."
"Sorry."
"It's okay, I'm fine."
Numerous commercials and previews flashed across the screen before the movie started.
He couldn't really concentrate on what he was watching. He was all too aware of the woman beside him. Every breath she took, every beat of her heart resonated in his being. Even though there were a hundred other people in the theater, his senses honed in on Cara—the scent of her shampoo and soap, the flowery fragrance that clung to her hair, the fried chicken she'd eaten for dinner, the hot buttery popcorn on her breath. But overall, the sweet scent of her life's blood called to him. It would be so easy to take. If he leaned toward her just a little, and tilted his head just so…
Damn! What was he thinking?
He shifted in his seat. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea, after all! He glanced up at the screen and prayed that the movie would soon be over because he needed to put some space between them pretty darn quick.
Whispering, "I'll be right back," he practically bolted out of his seat.
He went to the entrance of the theater, opened the door, and took several slow, deep breaths. Better, he thought, that was better. Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out. He would be fine now. He wondered if there was a way to block all the sensory input that plagued his every waking moment, and if it was possible, how long it took to master such a thing. All in all, he liked being immortal. He liked the fact that he was impervious to practically everything, that wounds healed overnight, that he could move faster than the human eye could follow. He liked his preternatural senses, too; he just wanted to be able to control them. What he needed was a guidebook for new vampires. He had looked for one online but with no luck. Hell, maybe he should write one!
After taking a last deep breath of fresh air, he returned to his seat.
"About time you got back," she whispered. "I was beginning to think you found another date. What kept you so long?"
"Sorry, darlin'. It won't happen again."
"See that it doesn't," she said, and then she smiled at him.
Slipping his arm around her shoulders, Vince knew he would do just about anything to have her smile at him like
Similar Books
