The Heart's Ashes
Page 11

“Come back with us, Ric.” Spence slapped Eric on the shoulder. “We’re just going back the girls’ house to hang.”
Eric looked at me. I shrugged, and smiled. “I don’t mind.” I should—but I don’t.
“Sweet.” Eric’s eyes went soft and round then. “I’ll follow you.”
“Okay.” I turned and opened my car door, trying to wash off the thousand-spiders-made-of-cotton-crawling-up-my-skin feeling he gave me all over—that was also uniquely enticing.
The door closed and darkness consumed the heat of desire—leaving me feeling cold and vulnerable, unable to find the clutch. Get it together, Ara. He’s just a guy.
No! He’s a vampire.
Okay, this is bad. This is really bad. What am I doing? I can’t let—
“Hey.” A dull tap on my window started my mind from its reverie. I looked up at Eric, in all his black-leather-jacket and sexy-guy glory, sitting beside my car on his motorcycle. Melt. “Something wrong with your car?”
I wound my window down and started my engine. “Uh, no. I just...” forgot how to drive.
“S’like that, huh?” He laughed and winked at me before thrusting his foot down and turning the handle on his bike, a mighty roar polluting the silence.
I watched the red taillights disappear down the street before I found the familiar necessity called air again.
Oh, God. I can feel my vow of celibacy slipping.
I played it cool, leaning on the hood of my car; my arms crossed, keys in hand, and watched Eric shake out his shaggy blonde hair, resting his helmet on the seat in front of him.
Why do guys on motorcycles always have to look so sexy?
But my committed attempt at ultra-cool couldn’t save me from myself; as soon as he looked up—right into my eyes—my cheeks flushed, restoring my notion that, in my attempt to branch out and grow up, not much about me had really changed.
The vampire kicked his bike stand down then jumped off the seat, unzipping his jacket as he walked toward me with a toothy smile. And before my eyes, a wild wind swept his jacket apart, revealing his ribs and totally sexy abs, as a logo for men’s cologne came up, floating in mid-air.
Cheesy, but so deliciously cheesy.
I pressed my knees closer together and hugged myself tight.
“You might be able to keep your words to yourself, kiddo,” he said as he stepped up beside me and placed his hand on my lower back, “but you can’t hide the beating of your heart from a vampire.”
I took a deep, jagged breath. “Hm. You know, you’re nothing like Spence said you’d be.”
“Oh, really? And what exactly did he say I’d be?”
“Shy and shaky.”
Eric grinned and opened the front door for me. “He lied.”
Spencer and Emily disappeared to the bedroom after half an hour—leaving me and the vampire alone, with nothing but a low flame in the base of the open fireplace and a soft CD of piano that’d been on repeat for too long.
“Are you tired,” Eric asked, leaning up on his elbow to look at me.
I hugged my knees to my chest and shrugged, enjoying the warmth of the fire, the golden orange glow all around us and the simplicity of companionship that I’d forgotten. “I’m okay.”
After a deep breath, he reached across the rug and rested his fingertips to my scar-covering scarf. “May I?”
“Sure.” I nodded.
He sat up in front of me and untied the scarf, leaving a soft tickle in its wake. “Why do you hide it?”
I shrugged, letting him angle my face this way and that, not the least bit nervous with the way he studied me. “People don’t understand—they stare.”
“They stare because you’re beautiful.”
A smile flooded my face. I reluctantly pulled his hand away.
“So, are you going to tell me how it happened? You know I’ve been dying to know.”
“Only if you tell me where you’re from—which Set.”
Eric leaned slightly back and his eyes scrunched into a confused smile. “How do you kno—”
“I had a boyfriend—he was a vampire.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “So he did this?” he asked, motioning to my scar.
“No.” I shook my head and left it at that, smiling when Eric rolled his hand in the air, a non-verbal prompt for elaboration. “Nope. You first.”
“You cheeky little thing.” He pointed at me. “Fine—I’ll share first. What do you wanna know?”
“How long have you been a vampire—was it only recent?”
“No, I was born Éric Mason de la Rose, in Paris, nineteen-thirty-eight. I became a vampire at the age of twenty-five when I saw fit to start a fight with an old man in the street after getting drunk at the local tavern. I woke up the next morning with a headache and a hankering for blood.” He took a slow breath and paused for a second. “Why would you wonder if it were recent?”
“Wondered if you might know about the other Sets.”
“Giving info about the Set can have consequences. What did you want to know?”
I shrugged. “I’m kind of looking for...someone.”
“Even if I knew them, it’s not my place to give their information, Ara. We have laws against that to protect each other. Who were you looking for?”
“David Knight.”
Eric’s mouth dropped open, his face paling. “He’s one of my councilmen—you’re Amara?” He pointed at me.
“You’ve heard of me?” I crossed my legs and tucked my hands in my lap like a pre-schooler.
“Oh boy—” He shook his head. “You’ve caused a lot of trouble in the vampire world.”
“Me?”
“Well, at least now I know how you got that.” He nodded at the scar.
I touched my neck. “So you know it was—”
“Jason.”
“Don’t say that name.” I looked into my lap.
“Why?” Eric knelt in front of me, then gave a knowing smile. “Oh, so you think he’s the bad guy, huh?”
“What? Eric, he is the bad guy!”
“Matter of opinion.” He shook his head, studying me more carefully. “I was at the hearing.”
“Hearing?”
Eric looked to one side and laughed. “Yeah. The hearing. Did you think David was gonna just let Jason get away with trying to kill his girlfriend?” His voice pitched like a prosecutor in a courtroom. “He went through every vampire law book ever written—trying to find a way to make Jason pay. But Jason’s defence was iron clad. It’s the biggest case in the history of vampires.”