"Thanks for a wonderful afternoon, Maximus," I told him. "See you at lunch tomorrow?"
He leaned against the wall in a casual way. "No, Oscar or Gabriel will bring you your food."
"Sick of me already?" I teased.
His smile remained but his gaze became serious. "It's harder to seduce someone when you're also clearing her plates. That's why I assigned others to take care of you while you're here."
Inwardly I sighed. Despite telling the truth about having a wonderful time, I still hadn't felt any telltale twinges around Maximus-and I'd tried. I stared at his ass when he walked ahead of me, envisioned my nails digging into that broad back . . . hell, I'd even stolen some looks at his package. Aside from admiring the shape he was in, nothing. I could just imagine Vlad chortling to himself.
I wasn't about to give up, however. Maybe what I needed was some tactile interaction. Thanks to my electrocution issues, I hadn't been kissed since Johnny Staples in the eighth grade. A kiss was bound to kick-start my libido. I smiled, moistened my lips, and hoped Maximus wasn't the shy type.
He wasn't. He bent down, his hand curling around my neck, and lowered his mouth onto mine. His lips were cool, full but firm, and he used far more finesse slipping his tongue into my mouth than Johnny Staples had. I kissed him back, glad it was like riding a bike and I hadn't forgotten how. Our tongues twined together and I had a further flash of gratitude that he didn't taste like blood. I liked being able to put my arms around someone and be held close, though I was careful not to touch Maximus with my right hand. His little moan when he gripped me to him was nice, too. Glad my years without practice hadn't made me the world's worst kisser, and-
Aw, hell, this wasn't working! His large, hard body was pressed to mine and his tongue was doing very enjoyable things in my mouth, but I still didn't feel a rush of heat. Figures. For years, I'd been frustrated over my forced singlehood, but now that I had means and opportunity in the form of a very willing, very attractive blond vampire, I wasn't into him. Maybe I should get myself sized for a promise ring. Did they give those to nonbelievers? Or was it a members-only thing?
"Maximus, I'm sorry," I said, pulling away from him.
"Too fast?" he asked thickly. "Don't worry, I don't mind waiting. It'll take Vlad weeks to gather personal items from all his enemies for you to touch, so we have time."
Attractive, understanding, and not falling to the floor with a heart attack from the electricity in my touch. I drew in a frustrated breath. Wasn't he what I'd longed for all those lonely nights? So why wasn't my pulse speeding up? Why was my reaction to him so damn flat compared to what I'd felt when I was with Vlad?
I was so screwed.
"Maximus," I began.
He put a finger to my lips. "Don't. I know that tone, but . . . wait. If you still want to say it after a week, fine, but give me that long before letting another man make a move." Wry smile. "What else do you have to do?"
What else, indeed? Certainly not think about a dangerous vampire who was so sure of himself that he'd set me up with another guy and also practically dared me to sleep with any member of his staff.
"Okay," I said, and forced a smile.
He kissed me again, and I hoped that I'd feel more this time, but while it was enjoyable, that telltale spark was still missing.
"Good," he said when he let me go. "Then I'll see you tomorrow."
Chapter 14
I trudged down the staircase at nine o'clock with all the enthusiasm of a condemned prisoner going to the electric chair. This time, I wasn't wearing a slinky black dress. I was in gray slacks and an olive turtleneck sweater, my black hair twisted into a ponytail, not a speck of makeup, and lips thinned into annoyed slits. Everything about me should've screamed "Do not engage" to the vampire already waiting in the dining room.
Vlad rose when he saw me, which for some reason angered me. Why did he keep pretending to be mannerly? Someone with manners didn't torture innocent people or offer to pimp out their staff in order to prove a point!
Then I gave myself a mental shake. Just because I still felt like crap and was unable to prove him wrong didn't mean I had the right to spew venom all over him. Sorry, I thought, assuming he was tuned into my thoughts as usual.
The sardonic smile that curled his lips when he held out my chair confirmed my suspicions.
"Your date wasn't everything you'd hoped?"
I sat down with a small sigh. I hated lying and he could read my mind, so what was the point trying to deny it?
"No, but Maximus wants to give it a week, and I agreed."
Once I was settled at the table, Vlad returned to his chair, again making the simple act of sitting appear commanding. Give him a throne and he'd look right at home. Then again, he probably had one stashed away somewhere. Maximus hadn't shown me the fourth floor because he said it was "private." I translated that as "Vlad's personal territory" and wondered why he needed the equivalent of an apartment building for his quarters.
Or maybe that was where he did all his torturing. I could understand Maximus not wanting to show me that room.
"No, I do my torturing in the dungeon like any other respectable castle owner," he said, amusement clear in his voice. "And the fourth floor isn't merely mine. My most trusted staff members have their rooms there, too."
"You really have a dungeon?" Talk about old school.
"Of course." Spoken as he gestured with two fingers. An attendant appeared, pouring dark red wine into my glass.
At least, I hoped it was wine.
"It is." With more amusement. "Aside from its obvious purpose, the wine should assist you in getting a better night's sleep tonight. It will also help to soothe some of your aches."
Your ability is so intrusive, I thought, glaring at him.
He only smiled and raised his glass in silent salute.
I took a small sip of mine, letting the liquid roll around my tongue before swallowing. Hints of violets, black cherry, and . . . smoke. Very nice, I decided, and took a larger sip. Some of the tightness started to leave my shoulders.
Vlad watched me, whatever he was thinking hidden behind that enigmatic half smile. I'd dressed down for dinner, but he hadn't. The rich material of his aubergine shirt made it far more elegant than your average button-down. Lights from the chandelier gleamed off jeweled cuff links, and his charcoal-colored pants fit him so perfectly, it was hard not to stare. His hair was brushed into smooth, dark waves and that eight o'clock shadow hugged his chiseled jawline, making me forget myself long enough drink in his appearance along with my wine.