I ignored his arrogant, blunt question, locked the front door, and set the alarm system. “Come on,” I said, moving past him.
He was at the back door ahead of me, and I stopped short. All I could do was try not to look as surprised as I was.
“Where are we going?” he asked, leaning against the frame and blocking the door.
“Walgreens. A friend’s house. Liquor Warehouse. Mellow Mushroom. In that order,” I answered.
Eli laughed a totally guy laugh and regarded me. “Okay, I won’t ask. Let’s go.”
After quickly letting Chaz out, we locked up, jumped in the Jeep, and headed first up Bay Street, then hit Abercorn. The usual after-dark traffic crept along until we passed the intersection at Victory Drive; then the pace quickened as we moved along the oak-lined streets. The heavy brine and warm, sultry air rushed over us as we drove, and I knew he watched me — could feel his gaze on every inch of my body as we passed beneath each streetlamp. At the next red light I hit the clutch, downshifted into second, then first gear, and came to a stop. I looked over at him, and shadows played over his sharp jaw, cheekbones, Adam’s apple. I noticed he had absolutely perfect lips, and the way his eyes studied me with such intensity made a thrill shoot through my insides. He was the kind of guy who would have never given me the time of day in high school, but I didn’t care. We sat, staring wordlessly at each other beneath the streetlights and with cars all around us, and I knew then, at that very moment, that we’d have mind-blowing sex in the near — very near — future. It was inevitable, and I felt it clear to my bones. The tension between us was palpable, and I couldn’t help but wonder just how much vampiric control he’d be able to maintain. Would he lose it and kill me? At the time would I even care? The light must have turned green, because the driver of the truck behind us blew its horn, and I jumped. Eli grinned; I frowned, although it really wasn’t a sincere frown, and I shifted into first and eased off the clutch. Soon we were crossing DeRenne, and Eli glanced to his right as we passed the big globe.
“You know,” he said, “my brothers and I had a pissing contest off the globe once. It was new back then, too, and Papa was furious at us.” He laughed again. “We liked to think we took a leak from the top of the world.”
I glanced in my rearview mirror and changed lanes, then gave him a quick, bewildered look. “Vampires pee?”
“Only if we drink a lot of beer,” he said with a grin, the wind blowing his hair all about and making him look more like a carefree young guy than an aged vampire. Why I constantly questioned myself about that, I don’t know, but I did.
As I made the long drive down Abercorn, I pushed my hair from my face and glanced at Eli. “Preacher said you’ve been gone for twelve years. Why?”
The muscle in Eli’s jaw flinched, and he stared straight ahead. “That’s none of your business.”
Anger pushed me. “You’re supposed to be guarding me, right? A vampire capable of killing me, staying in my house while I sleep. I have a right to know.”
“No, you don’t.”
I looked at him, but before I could say a word, his face grew alarmingly still. “Drop it, Riley.”
I did, for the time being. After several stoplights, we pulled into Walgreens and parked. Releasing my seat belt, I hopped out, and Eli did the same. I didn’t say a word as I entered the store and turned down the aisle lined with hair color, grabbed a box of L’Oréal black, and checked out. Eli looked only vaguely puzzled; I’d asked him to stay out of my head, but I couldn’t decide whether that was something he could voluntarily do, so he may have known my plan. If I had the power to scope people’s thoughts, I’m not positive I could turn it off. So much temptation. So little time.
On to our next destination. I pulled into the drive of a single-story Savannah brick home just off Largo — quite deceiving on the outside, since the interior was decorated in a unique decay look. I yanked the emergency brake, put the Jeep into first, and looked at my passenger’s questioning gaze. I was still pissed so was short on formalities. “Mullet Morrison’s house. I went to high school with him. He’s cool,” I said. “And one badass tailor. He designs and sells one-of-a-kind Goth and urban wear online and makes a freaking killing at it. Calls it Gnaw Bone Brand. Come on.”
At the door, Mullet welcomed me as he always did: enthusiastically. Despite his name, he wore a totally shaved head, a goatee, baggy shorts, a ripped camouflage shirt, and combat boots — his usual attire. He was a prince.
“Whoa, man — my favorite hot inked chick,” Mullet said, and glanced at Eli briefly. “Wassup, cuz?” he asked me, and bumped my fist. “Welcome to the kingdom of Gnaw Bone.” He regarded Eli. “What can I do you for?”
“We’re looking for some decent stuff,” I said, and inclined my head at Eli. “For him.”
“Excellent, excellent,” Mullet said. “No offense, dude, but you could use a little darkness. Black? Ripped? Junkie?”
“Yeah, on all three accounts,” I answered. I gave Eli a short glance; then we followed Mullet inside. “Oh my God, Mullet — how many more times can you watch Jackass?” I said, glancing at his monstrous flat screen on the wall.
Mullet laughed. “Never enough Jackass, I always say.” He glanced at Eli. “This way, dude.” He looked at me. “Been to the Panic Room lately?”
“Nah, not in a while. Busy at work. Thinkin’ about going, though,” I replied, and he gave me a nod.
“Sweet,” he said. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”
We didn’t spend much time at Mullet’s — didn’t have to. Mullet had an entire showroom full of clothes on racks, and boots that he bought wholesale. There was so much to choose from that we had no problem picking out appropriate gear for Eli. He was silent through most of it, and I’m positive he thought I’d lost my mind. Two pairs of postapocalyptic urban pants, a black pair of junkie-fit jeans with side laces, two long-sleeved decayed shirts, a gray ripped shirt, and a pair of buckled black combat boots later, we left. I’d also picked out a two-inch leather finger band with a sterling-silver skull in the center. Wicked cool.
I called Mellow Mushroom on the way and ordered a sausage, pepperoni, and mushroom with extra cheese, stopped off at Liquor Warehouse and grabbed a six-pack of Yuengling Lager, then picked up the pizza. Finally, we made it back to Inksomnia. Upstairs, we dumped everything onto the kitchen table, and I turned to Eli. “Ready for a makeover?”
He shrugged. “You’re the boss.”
As I gathered a few things from the bathroom — comb, scissors, towels — I noticed more than ever how cramped I felt in the same apartment with Eligius Dupré. I tried to ignore it, tried to ignore him as he watched me with such scrutiny. Quickly, I changed into a pair of low-rise cutoffs and an old black cotton cami, scrolled through the iPod home unit and chose Chevelle, pulled a stool from the bar into the kitchen, and inclined my head to it.
“Sit,” I said.
He did so wordlessly.
“Lose the shirt,” I commanded, “unless you want it stained.”
Without a sound he grasped the collar behind his neck and yanked the white tee over his head, leaving a perfectly cut chest and sculpted abs bare and flawless. Quick reflexes always served me well, and I dropped the towel in his lap. “Over the shoulders,” I said, and with an arrogant chuckle he did as I’d asked. I began his dark transformation.
With Chevelle’s “Don’t Fake This” thumping through the apartment, I settled into my task. Coloring Eli’s hair proved to be an erotic experience. His breath brushed the bare skin of my exposed stomach as I lifted my arms to apply the dye, and gooseflesh followed. I was sure he’d noticed, and positive he knew it had affected me. His hair was slick and wet and fell through my fingers as I applied the color, and as I moved around him I noticed how his hand rested casually on his crotch, and how my thigh brushed against his, or how I leaned into him to reach a certain spot. Yeah, I did it on purpose. Swear to God, I couldn’t help it. He was a total turn-on; my mind and body hummed with sensations, and I knew I played with fire. Knew it, and still did it.