— "
"Underwhelms you, I know."
There was an expression on his long, thin face all of a sudden, something in Steve's eyes that amazed her. There was eagerness there where his emotions were usually so closely guarded, and she saw hunger, too. She was used to seeing a predatory gleam in his narrow blue eyes, but this was different and not directed at her. At least not in a way she was used to. There were memories there, opinions, and a longing to share them.
She reminded herself that she hadn't had enough experience with this being she was bound to, to really know what to expect from him. She didn't know him. What she knew about Istvan was rumor, legend, whispered hearsay, and all she'd learned centered around his killing abilities. She didn't need anyone to tell her how dangerous he was or how much he hated his own kind. He was a force of nature, like a hurricane. Did a hurricane need reasons? Have a past?
Did the hurricane have to show up in her apartment just before midnight on a work night? She wasn't surprised to see him back in town, not after she'd found the body. Not when she'd already figured out that he meant Denver when he mentioned heading west. The action had moved away from the west, and he'd trailed the murderer back to Chicago. Good for him. Bad for the killer. She didn't know quite what to think of that yet. For the moment, she let speculation go and allowed her curiosity get the better of her with the matter at hand.
"There really was a Dracula?"
"The Romanian tourist attraction version, yes. I knew him." Steve stepped back to lean against the Page 49
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kitchen doorframe. "Met him. Who was I to know a prince? Or want to."
Who indeed? She did not have to speak the words to receive a dark, warning glare from him. She pointed a finger at him. "I didn't start this. But if you're going to do the revelation thing, I'm going to do follow-up."
"Why?"
The combination of genuine annoyance and surprise made her laugh. She waved in the general direction of the bedroom. "I'm not in the habit of going to bed with strangers."
"Until you met me."
The most terrifying creature on the planet looked at her with such open vulnerability it made her toes curl. Selena knew he didn't know he'd completely dropped his hard facade. She couldn't completely let herself be glad that he had. It was unwise to dive beneath the surface here, but she took a deep breath and went on.
"Meeting you was — "
"Unfortunate."
"Don't interrupt."
The king of vampires ducked his head. "Yes, ma'am."
"Unfortunate," she agreed. "It wasn't fatal."
He smiled a little at that. "You won't recover."
She put her hands on her hips. "Yeah. From what I hear, neither will you. We're stuck with each other.
You run. I cope."
He took a dangerous step closer to her. "Do you?" His voice was soft, menacing, the words alone might have struck dead with terror anyone but her.
Selena snorted. "You want some coffee?"
Istvan looked at the kitchen clock. "Isn't it a little late for you?"
"I asked if you wanted some. I'm being a good hostess."
So she was, he realized. Simply being polite and not behaving as a devoted slave. His tendency to underestimate her annoyed him. He ran a hand through his hair. "What were we talking about?"
"Bad books and old television shows."
Or old books and bad television shows. He shrugged.
What did it matter? They had been talking. No, he'd been talking. That was stupid. "You won't even call me by my real name. Don't pretend you want to get to know me." He'd done it again! He slapped himself Page 50
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on the forehead. He would have put a fist through a wall, but she would have yelled at him for damaging her property.
"Oh, for God's sake," she responded to his childishness. "Do you really want to be introduced to people as Istvan? That is so fifteenth century."
"It's a
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