“Because vampires destroyed my family.”

“A few unidentified vampires killed your mother, and that’s an excellent reason to hate those individuals, but why do you blame all of us?”

On the surface it seemed like a valid question that made me out to be some sort of supernatural racist, but I had no intention of letting it throw me. I sat up straighter in my seat and squared my shoulders. “Because you’re evil dead things who feed on the blood of the living and are a horrible crime against nature.”

“That’s quite a list of indictments. I take it you must be a vegetarian, who recycles, saves the rainforest, and drives the speed limit in a hybrid.”

“Very funny.” I frowned. “It’s not the same thing. You purposely and selfishly take yourselves out of the wheel of life. That’s a big karmic no-no.”

“If it’s such a ‘karmic no-no’, wouldn’t we have been punished by a higher power when the first vampire was created, instead of being allowed to flourish throughout the ages?”

“Oh, please. I can think of a lot of bad things that should’ve been destroyed on creation and weren’t. Like serial killers, or disco,” I countered with a roll of my eyes. I wasn’t about to accept the idea that vampires were okay just because they hadn’t been wiped off the face of the earth in a hail of holy vengeance. There were plenty of evil things out there that deserved to be smote into oblivion and yet weren’t. It’s almost as though the higher powers have a policy of “it’s your mess, you clean it up.”

“Well then, what makes you believe that we are incapable of doing good?”

“Your track record, for one thing, and just because you donate money to your family tax write-off charity doesn’t mean you’re a good guy.”

“Not even when that charity helps thousands of people throughout the world every year? I think you’re being a bit harsh, Catherine.”

“Aren’t those the same people you want to rule over with an iron fist?”

The vampire nodded, smiling dryly. “Yes, though that is not entirely accurate. I don’t propose that we crush the voids beneath our boots, I’m merely proposing that the magical races should be leaders, in the forefront of society. Not the mystic healer pushed away to live at the fringe of a village, the monster under the bed, or the martyr who chooses to burn rather than to fight back. We can’t trust the voids with our lives, not after the way they treated us in the past.” Seeing that I wasn’t convinced, he sighed and folded his hands in his lap. “Will you at least allow me to prove to you that I am not worthy of your hatred?”

“Umm, you kidnapped my best friend because you wanted him to be ‘insurance’. That doesn’t really inspire trust.”

“And he’s alive because of it, isn’t he? And unharmed as well.”

“There was blood on his hat when your faerie buddy showed up at my apartment.”

“I knew you would require proof that we did indeed have Mr. MacInnes. It was a painless blood draw, no worse than donating to the Red Cross.”

“Huh.”

“Would you like a glass of wine while you decide what you would like for dinner?” he suggested, and I nodded. He rose to his feet and crossed the room to the bar. He opened a bottle of white-smart move, I don’t drink red unless it’s a dessert wine-and to his credit he didn’t slip anything into the glass as he poured it. When Harrison returned I took the glass and thanked him, and he sat next to me on the couch again.

“Let me guess. You do not drink…wine…” I commented with a bad Béla Lugosi impression.

“Not generally, no.” He chuckled. “Have you decided, or should I order something to match the wine?”

I’m not exactly an expert on what matches with food. White wine went with fish? Maybe? Chicken? Letting the vampire pick would probably make him happy. “Sure, you can order.”

We chatted politely until dinner arrived, and then we moved to the suite’s table. I wasn’t sure what it was I ate-a series of fancy courses of tiny portions of strange cuisine. I almost felt like a judge on one of those gourmet cook-off shows. Yes, the presentation is lovely and the taste is subtle, yet profound. Not the sort of food my palate was accustomed to, working at the Three Willows and living on a diet of grease, salt and cheese. The vampire didn’t eat, which I expected but was still somewhat unnerving, and he continued to engage me in chitchat throughout the meal. This was the charming gentleman I’d seen in interviews. He was cultured, well-mannered and seemed genuinely interested in everything I had to say. If I didn’t know he was king of the undead castle, I’d have been very flattered by all the attention.

When dinner was over, Harrison decided to mix me up a cocktail while I sat at the bar and watched, surprised and impressed. I’m sure the man had a legion of people to do this sort of menial labor for him, yet he performed the task with efficient skill. As I sipped the drink, some sort of heavenly chocolate martini concoction, the vampire eyed me.

“Why Baker? I understand not keeping your father’s name, but Baker is not your mother’s maiden name.”

I wasn’t prepared for the question-no one had ever asked that before. “I wanted something that I felt represented me, and baking is something I’m good at. Baking cookies with my mom on the weekends was my favorite thing to do as a kid. I make awesome chocolate chip cookies.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“That’s one thing I love about the café: I’m a big believer in the healing power of food. A good burger can cure what ails you. It’s not an accident that my butt’s so big,” I joked.

“I wouldn’t call it big.”

“No?”

“No. Lovely would be a better word.”

I rolled my eyes at the compliment, and he shook his head at my reaction. “You still don’t like me very much.”

I blushed, feeling a bit bad that I was so transparent after he’d gone through the effort of being a courteous host. “No. Well, yes, but we aren’t working under ideal circumstances here. You’re Mr. Rich and Pulseless, and I’m just a waitress from the suburbs. A waitress who just happened to find her mother ripped apart by vampires. No matter how friendly you are, I can’t have a warm fuzzy feeling to all this.” I waved a hand at the gorgeous room around me for emphasis. “I’m not exactly here on vacation, considering you blackmailed me into staying.”

“Regardless, you are my guest, and I wish you to be as comfortable as you can be while you are here,” Harrison said, attempting to placate me. “And for the record, I do have a pulse.”

“You do?”

“See for yourself.” Pushing back the cuff of his sleeve, he bared his wrist and held it out to me across the polished wooden top of the bar. I eyed it warily, expecting some sort of trick. I reached out two fingers and lightly placed them against the vampire’s skin. He was cool to the touch, as though he’d been sitting under an air-conditioning vent for too long, but he wasn’t a popsicle. Not cold enough to qualify as a corpse, but still abnormal. Trying to remember back to my Girl Scout days and my first-aid patch, I felt around for a pulse. I found a slow, sluggish beat beneath my fingertips, like the sleepy tune of a waltz. I frowned, somewhat surprised, and then I caught the scent of smoke as I felt an electric line of heat shoot up through my fingers and zing through my body.

“Whoa!” Snatching my hand away, I glared at him. Rising to my feet, I stepped back from the bar.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to harm you.”

“What’d you do?”

“Increased my heartbeat to raise my body temperature. I didn’t realize you’d be affected by it. Actually I’m quite surprised you were able to sense it at all.” Harrison seemed impressed by my abilities. “You really are quite remarkable, Catherine.”

I opened my mouth to correct him, to tell him to call me Cat, but my good sense kicked in and reminded me that I didn’t want to be on a chummy, nickname basis with Dracula. Instead, I shrugged and thanked him.