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  "I didn't think we'd see you again so soon,” he commented as he started reaching for a cocktail glass. “Your usual?"

  "Not tonight, no. I feel like having something different. And why wouldn't I come back?"

  Returning the glass to the shelf below the bar, Leo leaned against the counter. His voice dropped a little lower, but it held none of the flirtatiousness Claire would have expected from his demeanor.

  "You were pretty spooked, last night. Customers who get scared rarely return."

  Claire looked down and smoothed the material of her dress across her thighs.

  "I wasn't scared."

  Leo didn't reply until she had looked up at him again.

  "Yes, you were. And you've got to know, if anyone threatened you in any way or tried to impose themselves on you when you made it clear you weren't interested, you can talk to the manager. Brett will review the tapes with you, and whoever it was will probably be banned from the club."

  A small part of Claire, the part that still half-believed the stories Jonas had once fed her, breathed in relief at hearing this. Another part, however, the part that had decided it couldn't be all that bad to dance or flirt with the vampire if he returned, felt a little self-conscious at being reminded of the presence of cameras in the club.

  "It wasn't like that,” she replied when she realized Leo was waiting for an answer. “I got scared without a real reason. It's been a long time since anyone tried to chat me up. I guess I'm not used to it anymore."

  Leo's smile returned as he shook his head. “Hard to believe. You never seem to mind when I flirt with you."

  Claire laughed, and looked pointedly around them. There were a few other patrons at the bar, men and women, and almost all of them were looking in Leo and Claire's direction with curiosity.

  "You flirt with everyone, so it's hard to take you seriously."

  "Part of the job,” he said on a tone of confidence. “Speaking of, what can I serve you tonight?"

  "I'm not sure. Any suggestions?"

  Right away, he reached beneath the counter and pulled out a glass and a bottle of wine that he uncorked in a matter of seconds.

  "We just received a crate of this nectar. You've got to try it."

  Claire accepted the glass Leo had filled with wine, and he winked at her before turning to another customer who had called on him. Glancing down at the glass in front of her, Claire traced a finger over the condensation, leaving a wavy line in her wake. The wine was of a very dark red, almost, she thought, like blood. She picked up the glass gingerly. It smelled of berries, and the first small sip she took left the same impression on her palate. She had never been very fond of wine, preferring cocktails and mixed drinks, but if this was what she had missed, she could easily change her mind.

  She watched the people around her as she took small sips, and for each of them, whether they were alone at the bar, chatting at a table or on their way to the dance floor, she tried to figure out whether they were human, or vampire. Her breath caught in her throat when she noticed a woman, just disappearing down the staircase. Until now, she had always seen her come down those steps on the arm of the vampire who had tried to talk to Claire the previous night. The vampire that she had come back to the club to see.

  She turned around to look toward the entrance, wondering if maybe he was following his companion, but she did not see him. She had just the time to tell herself that she might as well go home if he wasn't going to be there when her eyes fell on him, standing by the coat check counter. Unable to hold his gaze, she turned back and took a larger gulp from her glass. The wine slid down her throat, cool but strangely warming. Before she had placed it back down on the counter, the vampire was sitting on her right and ordering the same thing she was having.

  His first words to her held the same surprise she had read on his face across the room. “I didn't think you'd be back."

  Claire snorted as she brought her glass back to her lips, but she could admit to herself that it was nervousness more than thirst she tried to appease with one more sip of the smooth wine.

  "That seems to be the general impression. And still, here I am."

  "So I see. I have a feeling you're not one to back away from a challenge."

  Just the previous night, Claire wouldn't have dreamed of talking to the vampire as she did now. But with her annoyance at having fled when he had approached her, and with the help of that delicious wine, she found that her nervousness receded, replaced by a boldness that was more unusual for her.

  "Is that what you are? A challenge?” She shook her head. “From what I saw, it's rather easy to catch you. Half the girls in here did, at one time or another."

  He laughed and inclined his head, as though granting her that round.

  "I'm not a challenge,” he agreed. “How about a mystery?"

  She let out a laugh at the affected tone his voice had taken on the word ‘mystery'. The sparkle in his eyes made it clear however that he wasn't taking himself seriously. That realization made her a little more comfortable, enough to tease him back.

  "The mystery would be whether that line ever worked before."

  He flashed her a disarming smile. “You'll tell me at the end of the night, seeing how it's the first time I've ever tried it."

  "At the end of the night, huh? You're awfully sure of yourself."

  Taking another sip of wine, Claire tried to see on the vampire's face if he was mocking himself again or if he truly meant his words. She couldn't help hoping that he was truly interested enough in her to be trying to seduce her. After all, he was here, now, talking to her when he could have had a dozen girls fawning over him. At the same time, she wondered what he could possibly see in her, and refused to believe he was doing anything more than play.

  He returned her look levelly, and if she hadn't known any better she could have sworn he could read her thoughts as clearly as an open book. When he spoke next, his words did nothing to appease her.

  "You seem to be in denial, sweetheart. Why do you even try to resist the charm of the one vamp you came to see?"

  Her forced laughter rang false, and she buried it into yet one more mouthful of wine. She was coming to the end of that glass rather quickly. How would she hide when it was empty?

  "You think I came to see you?” she asked, trying to sound as though the idea amused her.

  The vampire didn't seem to fall for it, and answered with barely the hint of a smile touching his lips. “I know you came to see me."

  She offered him a pointed roll of her eyes. Even if he had been right, and she wasn't admitting he was, his overconfidence needed to be brought down a notch.

  "Did anyone ever tell you that you're arrogant?"

  It was his turn to laugh as he pivoted on his stool to face her more directly.

  "I must have heard it said, once or twice,” he said in a tone that suggested he had heard it far more often than that. “Do you mind?"

  "That you're arrogant?"

  "That I'm here and flirting with you."

  With a small gesture, he caught Leo's attention, and their glasses were soon filled again. Claire watched her own, her fingers playing on the rim. She had known he was flirting with her, of course, but to hear him admit it cast a different light on their conversation.

  "I ... I guess if I minded I would have left,” she said at last.

  "Like you did last night, you mean."

  Claire didn't answer to that, and hid her embarrassment by taking a mouthful of wine. Her cheeks were feeling hotter with each sip, and she told herself maybe she ought not to finish that drink. She wasn't used to drinking so much alcohol so fast. Most nights, she would take an hour to sip on a cocktail. It couldn't possibly be a good idea to get drunk when she was with a vampire.

  "So why didn't you leave this time?"

  As she placed her mostly full glass down on the coaster and pushed it away from her, Claire wondered what to answer. Telling him that she had wanted to prove something to herself probably wasn
't what he wanted to hear.

  "I suppose ... I suppose because you seem like a nice man ... I mean, a nice vampire."

  She wanted to kick herself. Without the wine fogging up her mind, she wanted to believe she wouldn't have slipped like this. But when she dared a sideways glance at him, her companion seemed more concerned than anything else. He blinked as he met her eyes, and broke away from her gaze to look at his own glass of wine. His voice, after he had taken a sip, held a hard edge that had not been there before.

  "There's no such thing as nice vampires, sweetheart, don't fool yourself."

  There was a warning, in those words, and Claire had a hard time understanding why a vampire would warn her against himself and his kind. She could take a hint, though.

  "I'll try to keep that in mind."

  A cold silence fell between them, and Claire took the opportunity to ask the bartender who had joined Leo in the enclosed bar space for water. He complied without a word, though a touch of amusement pierced through his grin when he glanced at her glass of wine. The ice in the water clunked softly when she brought the glass to her lips. Had she been home and alone, she would have plucked a bit of it out of the glass to run it at the base of her skull, where a knot of tension was slowly forming. She was much too aware of the vampire's eyes on her to do it now, though. His gaze was intense, as though he were cataloging every breath she took, or counting the small lines at the corners of her eyes. Claire had a sudden urge to check her make-up. If that meant getting away from him for a moment, all the better.

  "Excuse me."

  He stood as she slid off her stool, a gesture she found strange, coming from someone who hadn't shown many tendencies toward being a gentleman so far. She could feel his eyes following her the entire way to the ladies’ restrooms, and she mentally cursed that last sip of wine, which was making walking in high heels a much more complicated affair.

  It was only when she stepped into the facilities and faced the row of gleaming metal sinks and soap dispensers that she remembered—there wasn't a mirror to be found in the club, not even here. With a wistful sigh, she entered one of the stalls and pulled out a pocket mirror from her purse. Her make-up didn't need a touch-up, and the small age lines on her face were not as prominent as she had feared under the vampire's scrutiny. So what had he seen on her features that had kept him staring?

  She took a few instants to compose herself. Stepping out of the stall, she approached one of the available sinks and ran cold water over her wrists, hoping it would help clear up her mind a little.

  She had come back, talked to the vampire, and that was enough. She had proved to herself she wasn't a coward. She could go home, now. She would go home. For all she knew, he had tired of waiting for her and was picking his next willing victim on the dance floor.

  "You realize he's playing with you, don't you?"

  The sugary words echoed her own thoughts so well that Claire knew instantly that Sara was addressing her, even though she wasn't looking at her. Standing in front of the next sink, she was holding a mirror in one hand and re-applying eyeliner with the other.

  "He likes his conquests a tad younger than you are. No offense."

  The other women around them were not paying them any mind. Claire turned to face her, surprised to find blatant traces of jealousy on her face. With a snap, Sara folded the mirror and tucked it and her eyeliner away, turning a large, fake smile on Claire.

  "I just thought you should know. So you don't get your hopes up and then find that you aimed too high."

  At that, she left, her high heels clicking sharply on the tiled floor. Claire dried her hands without a thought, and tried not to let the poisonous words affect her. She had known since she had started observing the vampire that the women around him were all younger than she was, and it wasn't as though she had really expected anything to come out of their conversation.

  Despite her determination not to listen, something tightened painfully in her chest. As hard she tried, she couldn't not think of Jonas, and of the young woman on the pictures that had sealed the fate of his relationship with Claire.

  Breathing deeply to regain her composure, she walked out of the restrooms. The vampire was where she had left him, sitting with his back to the bar, his glass of wine in hand. There was a woman standing by his side, talking to him although he didn't seem to be answering her or the rather possessive touch of her hand on his shoulder.

  Of course, Claire thought, a strange feeling that definitely was not jealousy flaring through her. She should have known his groupies would find him.

  However, the groupie in question was dismissed with an absent shake of his head, and the half smile he gave Claire across the room made her resolve falter. She would say goodbye before she left. It was only common politeness, especially if he had been waiting for her.

  Politeness however did not explain why she sat again next to him when she reached the bar, or why she returned, although diffidently, his smile.

  "So tell me, Claire,” he asked, turning toward her once more. “Would you have talked and flirted with me if I had been anything other than a vampire?"

  She frowned at hearing her name on his lips. She had detected a tiny hint of accent on his voice when he said that lone word, an accent that didn't tint the rest of his speech, but that wasn't what troubled her.

  "I ... I told you my name?"

  Try as she might, she couldn't remember doing so. She had to have been more affected by the wine than she had even realized. The vampire seemed surprised for a brief moment, then he chuckled.

  "Of course you did. How else would I know?"

  A feeling of discomfort began settling on Claire—it wasn't like her to give her name to a complete stranger, even if she had drunk too much.

  "What about your name?” she asked, shrugging lightly to shake off her uneasiness. “You didn't tell me, did you?"

  Head tilted to one side as he observed her, he appeared to ponder her question for a few seconds before he said: “I'll tell you, if you answer my question first. Are you sitting right here right now because I'm a vampire?"

  Repeating to herself that she was mature enough to make her own choices—including with whom to have a drink—did not prevent Claire from feeling like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She could feel her cheeks blazing up under his scrutiny. She pretended to herself that she wasn't blushing and answered as coolly as she could muster.

  "I've got to admit that's a big part of the attraction."

  From the way he had reacted earlier when she had called him a nice vampire, she would have expected him to close off again at her admission. Instead, he offered her a lopsided smile, and reached to tuck a stray strand of hair that was tickling her cheek back behind her ear.

  "Has anyone ever told you you're pretty when you blush, sweetheart?"

  His murmur, sweet and heavy as late summer honey, would have been more suited for a bedroom conversation. Claire's blush only deepened, and she picked up her glass of wine to compose herself. It was still cool. A small sip felt heavenly.

  "Aww, did I embarrass you?” he crooned. “I just said what I was thinking. Humans lives are too short to play games with words."

  Finally, Claire found her voice back. “And here I was under the impression that's all we've done since you sat down next to me."

  His chuckle was practically indecent. “We could still do more, you know. The night is far from being over."

  If she had been ten years younger—if she had been the same age as Sara—she might not have rejected his words as quickly. As it was, she had not forgotten that it was all nothing more than a game, for the both of them.

  "If you think I'm going to fall into your bed because we've talked and shared a glass or two, you're even more conceited than I ever thought was possible."

  She raised an eyebrow at him on the last words, challenging him to deny his arrogance. He returned her look with one of mock innocence.

  "Who said anything about beds? We're
in a club. People come here to dance. That's what I was suggesting. Now why your mind drifted to other activities ... You're blushing again, sweetheart."

  Claire shook her head, but she did manage to smile. “And you're enjoying it way too much."

  "Probably, yes. Does that mean you're going to refuse me that dance?"

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  Chapter Five

  Matthew was a little surprised when Claire finished her glass in one long gulp before looking at him straight in the eyes. He knew she was more timid than she let on, and that probably explained why she had run away the previous night, but now she was clearly fighting off her own shyness to find the bit of daring that had brought her to the club in the first place.

  He felt ambivalent about that. On one hand, without that adventurous streak she wouldn't have been here, and he might not have ever talked to her. It would have been a pity, or so a short half hour spent with her had convinced him. On the other hand, he didn't want her to be comfortable around vampires, even if that vampire happened to be him. He didn't want her to take risks, period. He wanted her safe for as long as possible.

  He hated to do it, but he didn't see another solution. He needed to scare her badly enough that she wouldn't think of stepping inside On The Edge ever again. And he knew exactly how to do that.

  "You want me to dance with you,” she said, “but you still haven't told me what your name is."

  He had thought she had forgotten about that, and hid a flash of annoyance in a smile. To any other woman, he would have answered with a random name, never the same one twice in a row. She wasn't just anyone, though. She was, as Diane called her, one of his girls, and even if he never should have talked to her in the first place, he had done so and it was too late to change that. Giving her his name couldn't be so bad, especially since he was fairly certain she would never come around again after this night. The possibility of lying to her never crossed his mind.

  "My name is Matthew,” he answered. “Now will you dance with me?"