Skinwalker

“Okaaaay,” I murmured to the walls. “Next time I’ll wear a whole bottle of perfume.”

 

 

To the left of the foyer and food was a bar, three waiters serving real liquor, wine, and beer, not blood. I took a second glass of champagne and continued my tour. Behind the bar, a short hallway led to a music room with some stringed instruments and a grand piano. Probably priceless. I wondered who played, and figured it might be Leo. He looked like the type. As the thought entered my mind, a half dozen vamps walked in the room and a male vamp sat at the piano. He began to play, pounding the keys in something martial, the notes rising to the ceiling and spilling out into the hallway, deliberately overpowering the strings in the reception room. The other vamps laughed at the sophomoric prank and one ran to peek around the corner at the human musicians. I guess they thought it was funny. I left.

 

Through a connecting doorway, I found an empty, two-storied library filled with books, leather furniture, and a first-class sound system playing a soft salsa, which is not the way a salsa is meant to be listened to. I shut the door to the music room, impressed when the pounding piano was muted out. Really good soundproofing in the house: You could kill someone and not have to worry about the screams. I hunted around until I found the sound system controls in a recessed console and upped the volume. Alone, I ate piglet and salmon while my feet danced and I studied the titles on the walls. Some were in English, some were French, Spanish, and maybe Latin. And there were a few that looked Greek. Leo can read Greek?

 

Inside a glass case were twenty-four fired-clay, metal, and carved-wood tablets on display stands, clearly ancient and valuable. I couldn’t resist looking over their security and waved at the high-tech minicameras focused on them. Pretty good, if the cameras were monitored. When the door opened a scant twelve seconds later, and Bruiser entered, I patted myself on the back. “Not bad,” I said, toasting him with my glass. Which was nearly empty.

 

“I think you’ve had enough,” he said with an amused smile, as he stole away the glass and the empty plate. “Mr. Pellissier wants to see you.”

 

“Yeah?” I took the dishes back and set them on the console. “Do you salsa?”

 

“Not in years,” he said.

 

“It’s been a while for me too,” I said, turning and taking his hands, ignoring Beast’s amusement at the double enten dre. I placed one of his hands on my hip and kept the other, tapped my foot, and moved into a fast forward step, forcing him into a back step. To give him credit, he followed my lead. And then he took over. Firmly. Salsa is a three-step-pause-three-step dance—a reinvention of the mambo from the original rumba, and it moves.

 

Bruiser took me into a side step, dropped his arm down, up into a J, leading me into two simple turns, and instantly into a double turn as we found our rhythm. After that, things got sweaty. The man could dance. It was half seduction, half contest, as if he offered me his bed while testing my footing, my reflexes, and my ability to respond to his vamp-enhanced speed all at once. Our gazes locked, his brown eyes holding mine as I followed his lead. Seduction pheromones, his and mine, filled the air. I wanted to run my fingers through his dark hair and maybe touch the little mole. With my tongue.

 

The music swelled. Fast. Fast, fast, fast, Beast in control of my reflexes, which told Bruiser all kinds of things about me. I didn’t care. The volume rose, dropped, went from fast-paced to slow. I missed a step, only because I was unfamiliar with his lead, not because I didn’t know the move. Bruiser’s eyes held mine as his hand slid along my side, over my hip. He took my waist and jerked me close at the finale, a tango move I hadn’t tried since class.

 

The music fell silent. We stood in perfect position, chest to chest, breathing hard. A single clap followed in the stillness. Another. Bruiser broke contact, stepping back faster than the dance. My hands were left empty, in the air. I turned to the doorway.

 

Leo stood there. The door closed behind him. His eyes were on Bruiser. Something crackled in the air between them. Challenge. Anger. Beast growled. Both vamp and man turned to me. Feeling Beast just beneath my skin, pelt moving in anticipation, I laughed, the sound cruel, a bit wild. “Bruiser is good. Are you better?” I/we challenged the predator.

 

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