Mercy's Destiny: Montgomery's Vampires Trilogy (Book #3) (Montgomery's Vampires Series) by Sloan Archer
Authors: Sloan Archer
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and that I’d been in front of him only a short time ago, pleading for my life.
After the wedding, Joseph and I had an awkward moment at the door. Had it been an actual date, a kiss would have been appropriate and welcomed. The boxes were all ticked: Mutual attraction. Tick. Fun evening. Tick. Sky illuminated by the moon. Tick.
Unfortunately, there were a few boxes not on the perfect evening list that were also ticked. Questions, really. Did the evening conclude at my maybe-boyfriend’s house? Was my ‘date’ a major player in a mafia-type vampire organization? Did I have a contractual blood obligation to my companion?
Tick. Tick. Tick.
When the quietness got to be too awkward, I invited, “Would you like to come inside?”
For a horrifying moment I thought Joseph was going to accept . . . But then I was feeling as equally horrified when it seemed that he was going to decline.
I’d never been so conflicted. And then something occurred to me: I hadn’t checked my cellphone once the entire evening to see if Robert had called. I didn’t know whether to be proud or ashamed.
“You aren’t tired?” he asked.
Actually, I was pretty exhilarated. I’d had a great time and I wanted to continue having fun.
But, on the other hand, I didn’t know what Joseph was getting at. Though I’d gone out on occasional dates in the past, the only ‘real’ relationship practice I’d had was with Mathew and Robert. I didn’t understand dating rules and protocols the way most twenty-something singletons did. Was Joseph asking about my tiredness code for “Are you energized enough for sex?” I began to worry that I’d inadvertently used a code for “Do you want to sleep with me?” by inviting Joseph inside. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to get romantic with Joseph—because, who wouldn’t?—but under the current circumstance, it would be hideously inappropriate to do so. But, oh boy, if I were single . . .
Well, too late now. I couldn’t take back my invitation so rashly without appearing discourteous. Or insane. And I figured that Joseph was versed enough with the ladies to know what I meant. Not only had we already outlined that what we were on was, in fact, not a date, but there had been zero romantic contact during the date: no handholding, no kissing, and no accidentally-on-purpose thigh brushes. We’d even kept a respectable amount of distance between us on the dance floor. The drunken kilt-lifting women had copped more of a feel in their thirty seconds of harassment than I had the entire night.
“Sure, I can come in for a nip,” Joseph smiled.
Oh God-oh God-oh God! He was coming in!
“Great,” I smiled right back.
I directed Joseph toward the living room and then went into the kitchen and fixed our drinks, blood and wine. When I returned, Joseph was sitting almost dead center of the sofa. So, no matter where I sat, I’d be right next to him. I regarded the armchair, which was clear on the other side of the room—no, it would be weird and insulting if I sat there .
I took a seat on the sofa and handed Joseph his blood.
“You didn’t decorate this place, did you?” he asked, looking around.
I chuckled. “Is it that obvious? No, that was all Robert.”
Joseph gestured toward the rug I loathed so much—the amoeba rug. “If you don’t mind my saying, that throw is atrocious.”
I threw back my head and cackled. “Right! I hate it, too! I get dizzy just looking at it!”
He took a sip of his drink. “Speaking of looking at things, what was up with the kid staring at you all night?”
Joseph used a lot more slang than Robert, who would never use a colloquialism like “What was up with . . . ?” It sounded quaint coming from someone so ancient, though I doubted anyone not chummy with Joseph would point this out. Correcting the grammar of a VGO leader seemed like a good way to get killed.
I frowned. “What kid? A kid at the wedding?” What would a vampire as old as Joseph deem a kid? I
After the wedding, Joseph and I had an awkward moment at the door. Had it been an actual date, a kiss would have been appropriate and welcomed. The boxes were all ticked: Mutual attraction. Tick. Fun evening. Tick. Sky illuminated by the moon. Tick.
Unfortunately, there were a few boxes not on the perfect evening list that were also ticked. Questions, really. Did the evening conclude at my maybe-boyfriend’s house? Was my ‘date’ a major player in a mafia-type vampire organization? Did I have a contractual blood obligation to my companion?
Tick. Tick. Tick.
When the quietness got to be too awkward, I invited, “Would you like to come inside?”
For a horrifying moment I thought Joseph was going to accept . . . But then I was feeling as equally horrified when it seemed that he was going to decline.
I’d never been so conflicted. And then something occurred to me: I hadn’t checked my cellphone once the entire evening to see if Robert had called. I didn’t know whether to be proud or ashamed.
“You aren’t tired?” he asked.
Actually, I was pretty exhilarated. I’d had a great time and I wanted to continue having fun.
But, on the other hand, I didn’t know what Joseph was getting at. Though I’d gone out on occasional dates in the past, the only ‘real’ relationship practice I’d had was with Mathew and Robert. I didn’t understand dating rules and protocols the way most twenty-something singletons did. Was Joseph asking about my tiredness code for “Are you energized enough for sex?” I began to worry that I’d inadvertently used a code for “Do you want to sleep with me?” by inviting Joseph inside. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to get romantic with Joseph—because, who wouldn’t?—but under the current circumstance, it would be hideously inappropriate to do so. But, oh boy, if I were single . . .
Well, too late now. I couldn’t take back my invitation so rashly without appearing discourteous. Or insane. And I figured that Joseph was versed enough with the ladies to know what I meant. Not only had we already outlined that what we were on was, in fact, not a date, but there had been zero romantic contact during the date: no handholding, no kissing, and no accidentally-on-purpose thigh brushes. We’d even kept a respectable amount of distance between us on the dance floor. The drunken kilt-lifting women had copped more of a feel in their thirty seconds of harassment than I had the entire night.
“Sure, I can come in for a nip,” Joseph smiled.
Oh God-oh God-oh God! He was coming in!
“Great,” I smiled right back.
I directed Joseph toward the living room and then went into the kitchen and fixed our drinks, blood and wine. When I returned, Joseph was sitting almost dead center of the sofa. So, no matter where I sat, I’d be right next to him. I regarded the armchair, which was clear on the other side of the room—no, it would be weird and insulting if I sat there .
I took a seat on the sofa and handed Joseph his blood.
“You didn’t decorate this place, did you?” he asked, looking around.
I chuckled. “Is it that obvious? No, that was all Robert.”
Joseph gestured toward the rug I loathed so much—the amoeba rug. “If you don’t mind my saying, that throw is atrocious.”
I threw back my head and cackled. “Right! I hate it, too! I get dizzy just looking at it!”
He took a sip of his drink. “Speaking of looking at things, what was up with the kid staring at you all night?”
Joseph used a lot more slang than Robert, who would never use a colloquialism like “What was up with . . . ?” It sounded quaint coming from someone so ancient, though I doubted anyone not chummy with Joseph would point this out. Correcting the grammar of a VGO leader seemed like a good way to get killed.
I frowned. “What kid? A kid at the wedding?” What would a vampire as old as Joseph deem a kid? I
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