Samson's Lovely Mortal
Page 83
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“We have plenty to talk about. It’s time we resolved our relationship issues.” He walked around the desk as Amaury backed away from her.
Delilah glared at him, defiance in her eyes. “We have no relationship issues, because we have no relationship. I’m not dating a vampire.”
“Trust me; there’s a lot more you’re going to do with this vampire than dating. Let’s go. Dr. Drake’s expecting us.” He took her arm and pulled her out of her chair. She tried to shake him off, but he held her with a firm grip.
“Oh my God—you’re trying to have me turned into a vampire! What is he, some evil surgeon making vampires out of people?” she screamed at him, panic clearly written all over her face.
“Delilah, I’d never turn you into a vampire! How could you think that of me? Do you really think I’d wish this on anybody I care about?” Samson was disgusted at the thought. “Dr. Drake is my psychiatrist.”
Delilah gasped as she tried to digest his words. “You have a shrink?” Since when did vampires lie on a couch? A coffin would be more like it. This was just too bizarre. First of all, vampires shouldn’t exist at all. They were just folklore, myth, or whatever people might call them. And secondly, vampires wouldn’t live regular lives like humans—with visits to the shrink!
“Yes, I do, even though I’m sure he prefers to be called psychiatrist.” A tiny smile crept onto his lips.
“He’s a good doctor, even though his methods might be a bit unorthodox,” Amaury noted behind her.
“You’re seeing him, too?” She couldn’t hide her shock. They were both muy loco.
“Hey, we all have our issues. It’s not easy living as a vampire.” Amaury threw up his arms.
“What kind of parallel universe did I land in? You guys are nuts, right?” She was trapped in a house with two crazy … vampire wannabes.
“I assure you, I’m perfectly sane, not that I can say the same for my friend here.” Samson gave a smirk.
Okay, perhaps only one crazy vampire wannabe then. Yeah, right!
Instead of a reply, Amaury merely shook his head and rolled his eyes.
“Let’s go. We don’t want to be late for our couple’s therapy session.”
Samson pulled her out of the room and led her downstairs to the garage. To her surprise, he didn’t have Carl drive them. He opened the passenger door of a silver-and-black Audi sports car, an R8. The car looked like it belonged on a race track, not a street of San Francisco.
Samson got into the driver’s seat after he’d closed the passenger door behind her like the perfect gentleman. As he shot out of the garage seconds later, she gave him a sideways glance.
She couldn’t make sense out of what she’d learned. If he was a vampire, why did he not bite her? Wasn’t that what all vampires did? Shouldn’t both he and Amaury be hanging on her neck, drinking her blood?
And for that matter, why in hell wasn’t he cold? Vampires were dead, right? Or undead—either way he shouldn’t have a normal body temperature, should he? Sometimes, he was downright hot— She shook her head to disperse the images of Samson over her, behind her, beside her, his shaft impaling, thrusting— Damn it! Enough along that line of reasoning. Anyway, it was only one question among about a million she had at the moment.
The thought that Samson operated a security company didn’t make any sense either. Shouldn’t he, as a vampire, attack people rather than protect them? And why was he not living in a cave with bats? Okay, so maybe that was Batman. Wrong superhero.
No, not superhero. Monster. Right, he was a monster.
And, hellooo—since when did monsters look so damn gorgeous and sexy? When he’d dragged her behind him down the stairs into the garage she’d been unable to tear her eyes away from his butt. And more than anything, she wanted to dig her hands into him, maybe even bite him a little. Would he like that?
Stop!
No more thoughts like that. At least she knew for sure now that she wasn’t afraid of him. He seemed to make no attempt to attack her. He’d even sounded disgusted when she’d accused him of wanting to turn her into a vampire. As if that was the furthest thought from his mind.
Delilah looked at her hand. The Band-Aids were still on her fingers, but she knew the cuts had sealed when he’d licked her with his tongue. The tingling sensation she’d felt had shot through her entire body, not just her hand. Just remembering it created goose bumps on her arms.
Samson turned on the heating system. “It’ll get warm in a second. Sorry, I should have brought a sweater for you.”
Delilah glared at him, defiance in her eyes. “We have no relationship issues, because we have no relationship. I’m not dating a vampire.”
“Trust me; there’s a lot more you’re going to do with this vampire than dating. Let’s go. Dr. Drake’s expecting us.” He took her arm and pulled her out of her chair. She tried to shake him off, but he held her with a firm grip.
“Oh my God—you’re trying to have me turned into a vampire! What is he, some evil surgeon making vampires out of people?” she screamed at him, panic clearly written all over her face.
“Delilah, I’d never turn you into a vampire! How could you think that of me? Do you really think I’d wish this on anybody I care about?” Samson was disgusted at the thought. “Dr. Drake is my psychiatrist.”
Delilah gasped as she tried to digest his words. “You have a shrink?” Since when did vampires lie on a couch? A coffin would be more like it. This was just too bizarre. First of all, vampires shouldn’t exist at all. They were just folklore, myth, or whatever people might call them. And secondly, vampires wouldn’t live regular lives like humans—with visits to the shrink!
“Yes, I do, even though I’m sure he prefers to be called psychiatrist.” A tiny smile crept onto his lips.
“He’s a good doctor, even though his methods might be a bit unorthodox,” Amaury noted behind her.
“You’re seeing him, too?” She couldn’t hide her shock. They were both muy loco.
“Hey, we all have our issues. It’s not easy living as a vampire.” Amaury threw up his arms.
“What kind of parallel universe did I land in? You guys are nuts, right?” She was trapped in a house with two crazy … vampire wannabes.
“I assure you, I’m perfectly sane, not that I can say the same for my friend here.” Samson gave a smirk.
Okay, perhaps only one crazy vampire wannabe then. Yeah, right!
Instead of a reply, Amaury merely shook his head and rolled his eyes.
“Let’s go. We don’t want to be late for our couple’s therapy session.”
Samson pulled her out of the room and led her downstairs to the garage. To her surprise, he didn’t have Carl drive them. He opened the passenger door of a silver-and-black Audi sports car, an R8. The car looked like it belonged on a race track, not a street of San Francisco.
Samson got into the driver’s seat after he’d closed the passenger door behind her like the perfect gentleman. As he shot out of the garage seconds later, she gave him a sideways glance.
She couldn’t make sense out of what she’d learned. If he was a vampire, why did he not bite her? Wasn’t that what all vampires did? Shouldn’t both he and Amaury be hanging on her neck, drinking her blood?
And for that matter, why in hell wasn’t he cold? Vampires were dead, right? Or undead—either way he shouldn’t have a normal body temperature, should he? Sometimes, he was downright hot— She shook her head to disperse the images of Samson over her, behind her, beside her, his shaft impaling, thrusting— Damn it! Enough along that line of reasoning. Anyway, it was only one question among about a million she had at the moment.
The thought that Samson operated a security company didn’t make any sense either. Shouldn’t he, as a vampire, attack people rather than protect them? And why was he not living in a cave with bats? Okay, so maybe that was Batman. Wrong superhero.
No, not superhero. Monster. Right, he was a monster.
And, hellooo—since when did monsters look so damn gorgeous and sexy? When he’d dragged her behind him down the stairs into the garage she’d been unable to tear her eyes away from his butt. And more than anything, she wanted to dig her hands into him, maybe even bite him a little. Would he like that?
Stop!
No more thoughts like that. At least she knew for sure now that she wasn’t afraid of him. He seemed to make no attempt to attack her. He’d even sounded disgusted when she’d accused him of wanting to turn her into a vampire. As if that was the furthest thought from his mind.
Delilah looked at her hand. The Band-Aids were still on her fingers, but she knew the cuts had sealed when he’d licked her with his tongue. The tingling sensation she’d felt had shot through her entire body, not just her hand. Just remembering it created goose bumps on her arms.
Samson turned on the heating system. “It’ll get warm in a second. Sorry, I should have brought a sweater for you.”
