Chapter 15

15

Thanks to closed doors, I survive my first weekend with Noah. It’s now Monday, and I have an appointment with my new dietitian.

“Why are you nervous?” Noah asks as we walk into a suite of offices that look like they could belong to any group of doctors. You’d never know this place specializes in vampires.

Several sets of eyes fall on me as we enter the waiting room.

“Are all these people vampires?” I whisper.

“No, some are pre-vamps, and others are conservators.” He nods toward a boy stacking blocks. “And that’s probably just someone’s kid.”

There’s an abstract sculpture hanging on the wall, likely picked up at a discount home goods store. The chairs and couches are tan, and an oversized cream-colored rug carpets the barnwood-style laminate floor. There’s a Keurig in the corner, along with a shelf of magazines and kids’ books.

It’s all very normal…except a dental sign outside the office at the far end of the space states the importance of regular fang cleanings.

“Nope.” I turn back to the entrance. “It’s too weird.”

Noah catches my arm and drags me back, somehow making it subtle so we don’t create a scene. He then steers me toward an office. The plaque hanging by the door reads, “ Clark Bentley, Registered Dietitian. ”

“Hey, Janice,” Noah says to a receptionist, his tone warmer than usual. “Piper Edwards has an appointment at nine.”

“Noah, is that you?” the woman exclaims, her eyes widening with unadulterated joy when she looks up from her computer. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”

The receptionist is in her mid-fifties. Her hair is short, blonde, and perfectly styled, with reading glasses tucked into it. Her nails are eggplant purple. She has a plump, smiling face, and according to the lineup of small yellow tubes next to her pen holder, an addiction to lip balm.

“I was transferred to Denver,” he answers.

“I heard you were promoted to hunter. Why are you hanging out with the pre-vamps again?” She smiles warmly at me, like the term is an affectionate one.

“Piper is a special case.” He drops his arm over my shoulders, all friendly-like, and I nearly swallow my tongue.

“Lucky girl,” the woman says, and then she’s all business. “Now, tell me, Piper, is this your first visit with us?”

Noah gives my shoulders an encouraging squeeze, enveloping me in the clean scent of drug-store deodorant, and then he releases me.

Slowly, my brain buzzes back to life. “It is.”

“We’ll need you to fill out some paperwork.” Janice hands me a clipboard. “They’ll call you back in a minute.”

“What do I do with him?” I jerk my thumb at Noah.

The woman smiles. “You’re encouraged to take your conservator into the appointment with you, but of course, it’s entirely up to you. Noah will wait out here if you’d prefer to go in alone.”

“I’m going,” he says matter-of-factly. “I’ve never babysat a vegetarian before.”

“You’re a vegetarian?” the receptionist asks.

“Well…I was,” I say. “I’ve been eating too much cow to really consider myself one anymore.”

“Beef,” Noah corrects. “We carnivores call it beef. ”

“Whatever.”

Noah chuckles, but Janice looks concerned. “Oh, honey. How sick did you get?”

“It was pretty bad, but then my doctor prescribed steak and blood. Now I’m feeling rather human. Ironically.”

“You’re still human,” Noah says.

I turn to him. “What is this? Are you going to correct everything I say?”

A glimmer of rotten amusement shines in his eyes. “Only the things that are wrong.”

Laughing despite myself, I turn back to Janice and take the clipboard. “I’ll fill this out and get it back to you.”

“Before you go, leave your driver’s license and health insurance card. I’ll take copies and get them right back to you.”

I dig through my wallet, finding both, and then we head to a couch.

“I take it you used to come here often?” I say to Noah as I fill out the forms.

He sits close since the couch is small, his leg only a few inches from mine. “Janice and my mom are friends, so I’d drop by and say hi whenever I’d visit.”

“Your mom knows about all this?”

“Oh, no. She thinks Janice works for a regular dietitian.”

“So, your parents don’t know what you do? Or Britta?”

“They think I’m in human resources,” he says wryly.

“Right. For that pathogen research company.”

“It’s not a lie—I do work for a nonprofit researching a particular pathogen. And technically, I’m a resource to humans.”

“You said you work with a lot of victims. Did you mean pre-vamps?”

“Yeah. A hunter is basically a detective, so when someone is bitten or attacked, I have to interview everyone involved.”

I lift my eyes to his face. “You’re a detective?”

“Pretty much.”

“A detective and…a bodyguard?”

His lips twitch like he’s not sure if he’s amused. “Yes?”

“Are you allowed to hold two crazy sexy titles? Like, come on now. You already look like a casting director hand-chose you from a herd of built and beautiful actors, and now you get to be a detective and a bodyguard? It seems a touch unfair, doesn’t it?”

A smirk dawns on his face, and he leans a touch closer. “Built and beautiful?”

I touch his arm. “Don’t get flustered. It’s just a fact I’m stating as a friend.”

“Though I’m flattered, technically, I’ve been temporarily demoted. I’m only a bodyguard right now.”

“Probably for the best.”

“Yes.” He nods solemnly. “You’re already having trouble controlling yourself around me—we wouldn’t want to make it worse. Weak knees and all.”

“It’s probably just my blood sugar.”

“Tell yourself what you need to.”

“Piper?” a nurse calls, smiling when we look her way. “Come on back.”

“Take me to the store,” I command Noah the moment we’re in his SUV. “I’ve been craving cucumbers for a week.”

The dietician gave me the all-clear on fruits and vegetables, and I need a little quality time in the produce department.

“No one craves cucumbers,” Noah says.

“I do.”

“Most recovering pre-vamps go straight for chips, popcorn, fries, mashed potatoes, cookies, cakes, and donuts when they get the go-ahead to return to a normal diet.”

“Yes…but have they tried cucumbers?”

Noah snorts out a laugh, fishing his phone out of his pocket when it starts vibrating. “Hey, Daniel. What did you dig up?” He’s quiet for a moment. “I know I’m not—that’s why I needed you to look it up for me. Just tell me what you found out.”

I look out my window, feeling like maybe this is a confidential conversation.

“What do you mean he doesn’t exist?” Noah demands. “He put his name into Piper’s phone.”

I look back, deciding if it’s about me, I might as well listen in.

“Yeah, maybe,” Noah says. “I’ll see if I can get you a description.”

With an angry sigh, he ends the call and jabs the phone into the cupholder.

“I take it that was about Ethan?”

“He doesn’t exist.”

“I’m pretty sure he does.”

“He’s not in NIHA’s Garfield County database, at least not under the name Ethan B.”

“Maybe he’s like you. Ethan might be his middle name?”

Noah nods, thinking. “Possibly. I’ll have Daniel check for that tomorrow. If you’re free this week, I’d also like to take you to see our forensic artist in Denver. Daniel requested a description.”

“That’s fine.” I think for a moment, pondering something. “You know what’s strange?”

“What?”

“You said you’re a demoted hunter, but you dealt with this kind of stuff all the time, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Why hasn’t an actual hunter been assigned to my case now that I’m a confirmed pre-vamp?”

“You told your doctor you were attacked, right?”

“Yes, in our first appointment. I explained that it happened on a date.”

He thinks about that, frowning as he waits for traffic to clear so we can pull onto the road. “That should have gone into your file, and you’re right—a hunter should have contacted me to begin the investigation. I’ll have Daniel look into that tomorrow as well.”

“This whole conservator/hunter thing—it must be expensive. Who pays for it and why ?”

“NIHA is a non-profit, so our funding comes from donors. We receive sizeable grants from the US government, and we have several wealthy benefactors throughout the world. And we do it because we’ve learned that the more support a pre-vamp gets in the early days, the more likely they are to return to a normal life and be a functioning member of society.”

“And what about actual vampires? They’re just on their own?”

“We assist people in all stages, though final-stage vampires have their own programs. In general, they need less medical assistance and more mental health support.”

“So, in theory, someone should be checking in on Ethan?”

“In theory. He should be in the system, even if he declined assistance.”

“Is that allowed?”

“At a certain stage, yes. When a vampire has been stable for several years, and has shown they aren’t a threat to society, they can refuse our aid. However, they must submit address changes, and it’s possible Ethan did not.”

“Instead of searching Garfield County, can you search the Colorado database? Or even a national one?”

“We can, and I imagine that’s what Daniel is going to do next and why he needs a description. Imagine how many results it’s going to pull for someone named Ethan with a last name that starts with B. I don’t suppose you know his last name?”

“No. He always paid for his flowers with cash.” I pause, sitting straighter in the car seat. “But the hostess at the restaurant used his last name. What was it?”

She called him Mr. …something.

“Can you look up the owner of a building?” I ask, suddenly excited. “He says he owned the building the restaurant is in.”

Noah jerks his head toward me. “Absolutely. Just give me an address.”

“Thank you, Daniel.” Noah paces my kitchen as I crunch on my second cucumber, looking like a caged leopard. Whatever news his contact gave him, he doesn’t seem happy about it.

When he hangs up, he sets the phone on the counter, presses his hands to the granite, and leans forward, looking both deep in thought and highly annoyed. I should be focusing on the situation at hand, but my eyes catch on his muscular frame—specifically, his tense forearms and the bulge of his biceps.

He’s in a hunter green T-shirt today, not the brighter emerald of his family’s grocery store, but a deep, rich color. It complements his sun-kissed skin and amber eyes.

The man is glorious.

“The building belongs to Brennan Properties,” he finally says.

“Okay…?”

“The president is Hunter Brennan, and the CEO is his brother, Ethan Brennan.”

Mr. Brennan.

“That’s it! That’s what the hostess called him—Mr. Brennan.”

“They aren’t registered in our system.”

“What does that mean?”

“They either aren’t vampires…or someone has removed them from the database.”

I point to my neck. “I’m walking proof that Ethan is a vampire.”

“That leads me to our next issue.”

“What?”

“There’s no record of the attack in your file. You’re in the system, but your history is blank.”

“Dr. Granger probably forgot to upload it.”

“That’s what I thought, so I asked Daniel to add it manually so we can begin an official case.”

“And?”

“Access to your file is restricted. The only ones who can access it are much further up the command chain than Daniel.”

“Is that…normal?”

“No, but I ran into it a few times. And when I followed the trail, I ended up back here.”

“You think there’s something fishy going on in the organization?”

“I know there’s something fishy going on, and I’m afraid Ethan is connected to it.”

“I don’t just have a stalker…I have a well-connected stalker?”

Noah releases a long, heavy sigh. “I’m afraid so.”

“So…NIHA won’t ever assign an official hunter to my case?”

“Correct.”

“Because Ethan knows a guy who knows a guy?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“What if we go to the police? Can I file a report now, or is it too late?”

“You can, but as soon as the word ‘vampire’ enters the conversation, they’ll turn the case over to NIHA for investigation.”

“This feels like a flawed system.”

“It’s become corrupt.”

“So, what can we do?”

“ We don’t need to do anything. I’ll figure it out.” He glances at his phone, presumably to look at the time. “You, however, need to take your blood.”

I choose another slice of cucumber from the plate. “No thanks.”

He jerks his chin toward my snack. “No blood, no veggies.”

I growl, setting the slice down next to the radishes, celery, and carrot sticks. “Fine.”

“You want a smoothie again?”

As much as I hate to admit it—and I do hate it—the smoothie is the most palatable way to get it down. “Yeah, okay. But I can make it. You don’t need to wait on me.”

“I don’t mind.” He moves around my kitchen, slowly learning where I keep everything. “You want it spicy this time? Mango, strawberry, and cayenne?”

“Mmm, spicy blood smoothie.”

He chuckles as he pulls the blender out of the cupboard. “At least Clark said you don’t have to eat any more steak. As long as you take your prescription, you can basically go back to your bunny ways.”

“And the extra supplements.”

After looking at my bloodwork, the dietitian gave me supplements for iron, Vitamin B12, and Vitamin D.

“You should have probably been taking those anyway.”

“Were you always this bossy, or did that come with the job?”

Noah smirks, but he doesn’t respond.

“Are you this annoying with girlfriends? If so, it might explain why you’re single.”

“Dating is exhausting, and I don’t have time for it.”

“Like…ever?”

“I’ve been set up before and have been coerced into a few double dates that I almost instantly regretted.”

“What part is exhausting?”

“The part where I have to pretend to care about their small talk.”

I bark out a laugh, delighted. “You’re awful.”

He smiles a little, meticulously cutting the peel off the mango like he’s done it a hundred times.

“But you cook. I’m sure that makes up for your prickly personality. And plenty of girls are dumb enough to date handsome jerks if they’re good in the kitchen and decent kissers.” Feeling wicked, I add, “ Ohhh , is that the problem? Do you suck at kissing?”

He sets the knife down, giving me a droll look. “That’s not an issue.”

I shrug one shoulder. “If you say so.”

Narrowing his eyes slightly, Noah rounds the counter. My pulse jumps, and a hot knot coils in my stomach.

Was I goading him on purpose? Maybe.

I swivel in my barstool, keeping my eyes on him, until my back is pressed to the edge of the counter. Noah stops in front of me, his expression hard, his eyes holding dark promises. “Do you want me to kiss you, Piper?”

“What?” I breathe, playing innocent.

“It seems like you’d like me to prove my skill.”

He sets his hands on either side of the counter, caging me in as he leans forward.

My heart hiccups and then begins racing. The man is huge, and he has me surrounded.

And I like it.

I like it a lot.

But Noah doesn’t kiss me. His cheek brushes mine as he leans close enough his breath tickles my ear. “But there’s a flaw in your plan. I don’t have to prove anything—I know I’m good.”

I let out an embarrassing little peep.

“And, Piper, if you hadn’t friend-zoned me, you’d know too.”

Noah turns his head slightly, playfully running his bottom lip over my earlobe. Then he returns to his smoothie prep with a knowing smirk on his lips.