All Just Glass - Amelia Atwater-Rhodes [26]
The way he had tossed out that information to a complete stranger suggested that enough people had been bothering him for help that he was getting fed up with it. That was only likely to be the case if individuals hiding from the Rights of Kin were coming to him, which would only happen if he was connected to Nikolas and Kristopher.
She flashed her own best long-day smile and said, “Actually, I was looking for a cup of coffee. Am I in the wrong place?”
His expression shifted as he focused his attention, seeming to draw himself together. “Sorry,” he said. “Yes, of course, coffee right away. How do you take it?”
She glanced at the menu behind the counter, trying to determine what kind of place she was in. Keeping to her pretense, she said, “I don’t care. Something sweet, with a lot of caffeine and a lot of sugar.”
“Starting the day with a kick, I see,” the vampire joked with her as he turned to the espresso machine.
“I’m normally more of a night person,” she answered. “I got up early to drive a friend to work, and have to hide from my roommate so she won’t drag me to Zumba.”
He chuckled. She could almost see the gears turning in his head. It was past dawn, the hour when decent vampires normally wanted to sleep, and she could tell he hadn’t had a chance to feed the night before. Here was a cute girl who no one expected home soon, who was willing to chat with strangers … and who, therefore, could probably be persuaded to go somewhere more private. He handed her the coffee, and the smile he turned on her was considerably warmer than the first one had been.
“I know what you mean,” he said. “My roommates have guests over at all sorts of crazy hours. Here’s your coffee, on the house. My shift’s pretty much—” He cut off, a moment after Adia sensed the aura of the bloodbond who had just walked up behind her. “Matt, it isn’t often you darken my door. Is something wrong?”
Adia turned, trying to make it look casual. She wasn’t sure whose bloodbond she was facing, but knew that the olive-skinned “young” man was decades older than he appeared. Bloodbonded humans, like vampires, didn’t age.
Matt lifted a hand to brush sandy brown hair back from his face, and the cuff of his long sleeve pulled back just enough for Adia to see the edge of a scar. Nikolas’s marks—a rose, a strand of ivy and Nikolas’s name. She was sure of it. Pure vanity made the vampire carve his symbols into the flesh of his victims. It also made them easy to identify.
Cold affected bloodbonds less than pure humans, so most of Nikolas’s bloodbonds wore their arms bare in any weather, no matter how much harassment it earned them from normal humans. Someone must have warned this one to cover up.
“Can I talk to you in private for a moment?”
The vampire looked from Adia to the bloodbond who had just walked in, probably torn between some sense of obligation and the prospect of a free meal. Adia debated interrupting to offer her name or phone number, but decided that would be too blatant.
She took the coffee and sought a quiet table in the back of the room, where she pulled out a science fiction novel she kept in her purse for when she needed an excuse. It would have been nice to eavesdrop on the two at the counter, but the vampire brought Matt into the back room, leaving a BE RIGHT BACK sign by the register. Adia supposed he didn’t care what customers he might miss.
Adia took the opportunity to scan the coffee shop over the pages of her book. This time of year, long sleeves weren’t exactly noteworthy, so there was no way to know if the other bonds in the room belonged to Nikolas. The real question was, why had someone called Heather from here? The phone was behind the counter, but customers might be allowed to use it. Anyone could have called; the phone itself wouldn’t give her anything more. Fortunately, every hunter knew that the friend of her enemy made a useful friend, and it looked like the local vampire might be a very good friend.
After about two minutes secluded in the back room with Matt, he returned to the café, nodded to a