Stakes & Stilettos - Michelle Rowen [13]
Thierry eyed George without expression. George, on the other hand, looked beside himself with excitement.
“The Red Devil?” he asked. “He’s back? This is so wonderful! I thought he was gone forever.”
“The Red Devil is an urban legend,” Thierry said.
“No, he isn’t.” George turned to me. “Sarah, you just met one of the coolest vampires in history. He’s a hero. He saves our kind from harm, like the Lone Ranger or Zorro. He swings in, kicks butt, then leaves, and no one knows who he is. At least he used to. He hasn’t been seen or heard from in a hundred years. But now he’s back. You are so lucky! Was he hot?”
“Scarf on face,” I reminded him. I shifted position on the sofa and the leather squeaked. “He was tall, though. And are you serious? He’s some kind of a vampire superhero?”
“Urban legend,” Thierry corrected. “That some have taken to heart and perhaps are trying to emulate. The Red Devil doesn’t actually exist. He never has. But whoever this impostor is, I do owe him my thanks for saving your life.”
I frowned. “He killed Josh… and Heather.”
“Yes, he did.”
My masked hero was now a murderer. Vigilante justice. Maybe under that scarf he looked like Charles Bronson, only with fangs.
They’d tried to kill me. I suppose it was an eye for an eye, but still, it was disturbing, to say the least. I’d considered Heather a friend—her betrayal still stung. And now she was a puddle of goo. I guess she was older than I thought she was, since only really old vamps disintegrate when killed. Younger vamps and fledglings stayed in one solid but dead piece.
I took in a shaky breath.
“George,” Thierry said. “Please let my patrons know that Sarah will be fine and there’s no need to panic. And I’d prefer that you don’t tell anyone about this… this Red Devil nonsense.”
“Sure thing.” George nodded, and with a quick wink at me he left the room and closed the door behind him.
“I don’t understand how this could have happened,” Thierry said.
“I know. Sometimes it feels like everybody wants to kill me.” I replayed the horrific scene over and over in my mind until I had to force myself to push it away.
“That’s not what I meant.” He touched my face and looked at me so intensely it felt as though he was trying to memorize my features. “Heather was a terrible waitress, but I never would have thought her capable of something like this. I trusted her.”
“That makes two of us.” I leaned into his touch and put my head against his shoulder. “She was in love with Josh. I guess love makes people do crazy things.”
The pain still throbbed in my chest, but it was becoming increasingly manageable. At some point tonight—or this morning, since by a quick glance at the wall clock it was going on 3:00 A.M.—I might even be able to stand up. It was a goal.
“It does, indeed,” he murmured. “I don’t want to lose you, Sarah. Please, promise me that you’ll be very careful from now on.”
“Cross my stake-riddled heart.” I smiled up at him, but felt tears welling inside.
“Good.” He leaned toward me and kissed me, trailing his fingers along my cheek, my jawline, and then tangling into my already tangled hair. The kiss deepened and a little moan escaped my throat as his tongue slid against mine.
I thought about my dream, about seeing Thierry staked and killed.
It was just a dream. Nothing more than that. This Red Devil was some vampire playing dress-up and trying to save vamps who’d gotten themselves into tight situations. Like me. Since I was all for getting saved when the situation called for it, more power to him.
Thierry moved his face down and peeled the shirt away from my chest so he could gently kiss the bandage over my already healing wound. I bit my bottom lip and slid my fingers into his dark, nearly black hair. His mouth made things tighten and curl inside me, and the ache I was currently feeling wasn’t just in my chest anymore.
He smiled up at me. “Don’t worry. I know you’re weak and injured. I promise not to molest you any further.”
I parted the shirt farther and returned