I can feel Tina's eyes on me, as well as Luke's, and so I compose my face into my usual blasé but charming mask. It's what I've been wearing around Luke for about as long as I can remember—eight years anyway—lest he or anyone else have any idea how I really feel about him.
Which, I'm also not sure about, to be honest. One moment I feel like I have some harmless, heart-eyes, schoolgirl crush on him, the next I feel like climbing him like a very tall, muscly jungle gym and asking him to bite me. And then sometimes, it hits a lot (a lot) deeper than that, but I ignore those feelings the most. I'm nearly thirty—old enough to know the things you must do in order to protect your heart. Luke might be a vampire, but he's also a man and men are good at one thing—fucking you up.
At any rate, every time I'm around him, I feel all dizzy and stupid, like prey caught in some very obvious trap that I've willingly stepped into.
And because Luke is a vampire, I know he has that exact same effect on every human being he comes across.
"Careful, Luke," I tell him with a teasing smile. "If you're asking, I might just put you to work."
Tina mumbles something else under her breath and from the way Luke's brows knit together, I know he heard her. Of course, with his hearing nothing escapes him. I just hope it wasn't anything too embarrassing. Knowing Tina, it probably was.
"That's what I'm here for," he says, coming closer. Though his hands are shoved casually in the pockets of his dark gray jeans, he moves with this ease and grace that I've learned to recognize as purely vampiric. Though I'm guessing that if I lived in this same body for three hundred odd years, I'd have a much better handle on it, too.
"Looks like you need it," he adds, nodding at the decorations.
"Hey," I say defensively, twisting around to admire my handiwork on the walls, but the movement nearly causes me to fall off the chair.
Luke moves so fast he's just a blur. He's at my side in half a second, his big, strong hands wrapping around me, his long fingers engulfing my waist. I feel his skin through my shirt, so cold, yet it makes my skin run hot, feverish currents that make my nerves dance, my breath hitch.
He holds me steady and lifts me off the chair like I weigh nothing at all, placing me on the ground beside him with easy precision. The feel of his hands on me makes my knees feel even weaker than before and it's impressive I'm still standing.
"What did I tell you about wearing those heels?" he asks playfully, his voice a touch lower than normal, causing shivers at the back of my neck, his eyes full of life as they look me over.
"You said you liked them," I manage to say, hoping I sound a lot more composed than I feel. I kick my foot out to the side, showing off the three-and half-inch stilettos that still don't manage to get me anywhere near his six foot four height.