“Jane,” he said. Just my name. And something lightened inside of me.
“Bruiser,” I said back, and I smiled at him as Beast raised up and padded closer to the front of my mind, peering out through my eyes. Mine, she purred. Without looking over my shoulder, I said, “My gobag’s in the foyer. See you at vamp HQ at nine sharp.”
Eli said, “Roger that. Twenty-one hundred.”
At the curb, a limo idled, the back door open in invitation. I knew this limo. I’d been in it before, more than once, the first time on my back on the floor with Bruiser on top of me. Not sex, but it had been close. I felt a faint flush, and to hide it, I turned and locked my front door behind me. Breathing deeply until the lock clicked and I had myself under control.
Bruiser touched my shoulder and guided me into the limo, then sat across from me, studying me. I felt awkward and foolish and I didn’t know why. Bruiser said, “I always liked that outfit. I see the blood came out.”
“Oh. Right.” The first night I’d worn the dress, I’d killed a young rogue vamp. Not the smartest clothes to wear while vamp hunting. I’d gotten the vamp’s blood all over me and a lot of my own as well. Leo and Bruiser had been in my house when I arrived, carrying a vamp head and cradling a badly mauled arm. Which Leo had healed while Bruiser looked on. My arm, not the vamp head. She was dead. I looked down at the dress. “Yeah. Somebody at Katie’s got the blood out. Eventually.”
Bruiser shook his head, amusement clear despite the darkness caused by the vamp-worthy tinted windows. “You do know how to make an impression, Jane Yellowrock. And that is one of my favorite dresses.”
“You’re wearing a tie,” I said, frowning. “Should I have worn something fancier? One of Madame Melisende’s things?” The ancient blood-servant made my work clothes for formal vamp occasions.
“No,” he said, his tone with an edge I didn’t understand. Before I could figure it out he added, “You look lovely, perfect for Arnaud’s.”
“You got last-minute reservations at Arnaud’s?” I couldn’t keep the astonishment out of my voice. Even I knew that Arnaud’s was always booked weeks in advance.
“I have a standing reservation,” he said, nonchalant, like an astronaut might say, “I’ve been to space,” or a world traveler, “I’ve been to Paris numerous times,” or—
He interrupted my thoughts with, “I may no longer be primo, but my prominence in all things Mithran hasn’t diminished.”
“But Arnaud’s.” I looked down at my dress, knowing for certain that I needed to have worn a little black dress. I actually had a little black dress now. I lifted the skirt and fingered the silk fabric. Cheap. I’d paid less than a hundred dollars for it.
“Jane. Stop. You look fine. Better than fine. You’ll turn heads everywhere you go.”
“Next time tell me where we’re going,” I said flatly. And then felt my face burn because that made the assumption that there would be a next time and— “Crap. Bruiser. I eat at diners and fast food joints and drink beer. My dates and I talk about guns and the newest horror or action flick. I wear jeans and boots and no makeup. I do not go to Arnaud’s on dates. I won’t know what to order and have no idea which fork or spoon to use.” I met his eyes. “This is not me.”
Bruiser laughed.
He had a really great laugh, not mocking or sarcastic or bored or pitying. He just laughed, as if I’d shared something funny with him. “We’ll do that next time. One week from today, I promise. However, this evening, we are eating at Arnaud’s. And I’ve already spoken with the chef to prepare us a combination plate of meats and fish, with sides, so you can try a bit of everything on that part of the menu.” He leaned in, and his scent roiled over me, soothing. “This isn’t to make you feel inferior, Jane. You are not inferior to anyone. This is to show you a bit of the New Orleans I know, a part you may not have visited before.”
“Right. It’s Arnaud’s.”
“And the food is delicious. And the table is ready.” The limo pulled to a stop. The back door opened and Bruiser stepped out into the sunset, holding his hand back for mine.
“Crap,” I muttered. But I took his hand and let him support me out of the limo. Like I needed it. I could kick his butt. With one hand tied behind me. And then I realized I’d said that aloud when Bruiser laughed again.
“Maybe on our second date, I’ll tie you up,” he said, “and see what you can do to me.”