Immediately I wanted to take the words back. Desmond and I had been in a massively confusing threesome, only he didn’t know about it. I’d discovered one hell of a doozy side effect from my vampire connection with Holden, and had spent six months trying to forget our little mental ménage.
Leading me by the hand, Desmond took us into the living room and guided me to the loveseat.
“Stay,” he commanded with a smirk, then vanished down the hall.
“Who taught you to be so bossy?”
His rumbling chuckle preceded him back into the main room, where he stood in front of me with his hands behind his back. There was a wicked glint in his eyes.
“Pick a hand. ”
“You’re kidding me. ”
Desmond huffed and tapped his foot on the carpet. I held out a little longer, crossing my arms and leaning back into the couch, pretending not to care. When it became obvious he wasn’t going to give in, I sighed and pointed to his right arm.
He showed me an empty palm. Now I was both curious and annoyed, so I indicated his left side.
He handed me a wood box, then stepped back and hugged his chest, watching me. It was like a cat dropping a dead bird at your feet and hanging back to see if you’ll praise it.
The box was a little over a foot long and made from a lightly stained teak, engraved with two cranes taking flight. In spite of the delicacy of the box itself, the package had a decent weight to it, which I balanced on my palms as I opened the gold clasp with my thumb.
Inside, nestled amongst the folds of black velvet, was a dagger. It shone silver under the ceiling light, and I gave it an exploratory poke.
“Steel,” he said, which I confirmed when my
finger didn’t get all rashy.
The blade was two-sided and had an old-fashioned vibe about it. The handle was wound in black leather, and a red tassel dangled from the base.
“So pretty. ”
“Well, I figured you might need something for days when the katana is a bit too…conspicuous. ” Some men buy jewelry. My man went for the heart and bought weapons.
I held the knife up to the light and twirled it in my hand, testing the weight. It had a nice heft. I didn’t like to be in such close range in a fight, but my life had been saved by a switchblade once, so a pretty dagger could only be an improvement.
Under the velvet was a leather sheath with two thin bindings I could use to fasten it to my leg.
“Thank you. ”
“Not much good against a ghost, I know…”
“It’s perfect. ”
There must be a lot of good jokes that start with two vampires walked into a bar, but later that night when Brigit Stewart and I found ourselves at a Chelsea club called Thirst, I wasn’t in a laughing mood. This girls’ night out was all business.
Well, business and a gin martini or two.
Brigit tapped her high heel against the leg of her barstool. We were checking out guys, but not in a way I should have felt guilty about. I had too many men as it was. I wasn’t on the prowl to add anyone else to the compound Big Love style. We were here in a strictly professional capacity.
Though I’d been promoted to the Tribunal, she was still my ward. And more than that, I would always feel responsible for her. I hadn’t made her a vampire, but the one who had hadn’t taught her how to exist as one. That was up to me.
The girl with a pulse.
Around us, the club pulsed with a life of its own. A new Kanye West single threatened to earworm me if I could only stop feeling the bass in my skull. Scantily clad girls ground their pelvises against every available surface—boys, other girls, poles. It was a jackpot of skeeze.
The men weren’t much better. There was so much hair gel, aftershave and Ed Hardy here I wondered if we’d teleported to Jersey by mistake.
“What about that one?” I pointed to a buff, vacant-looking brunet.