Tasha

I stared at the table while Chloe and Wanda hashed out my schedule. My new bodyguard – make that cousin – had nixed several events that she’d determined were either too dangerous or where it would look weird for me to bring an entourage that included a visiting cousin.

Cousin. I wanted to snort at the very idea. The attraction I was feeling for Wanda was decidedly uncousinly. I was both fascinated by her and irritated by her. After being famous for so many years I was used to getting my own way. Maybe that made me spoiled – okay it definitely made me spoiled – but the fact is, once you got to a certain level of fame you found yourself surrounded by yes men and yes women.

The only person who would remotely entertain the idea of disagreeing with me was Chloe and even she did it in a very sweet and passive aggressive way. Being shut down so firmly by Wanda was a new experience. I didn’t know what to do with it.

I’d only met a few vampires over the years. There weren’t a lot of them in the community where I grew up. It was a bit too sunny in Miami for folks like Wanda. I wasn’t bothered by her being different from me. I was, however, bothered by the fact that she was acting like I was a kid when I was thirty five years old and managing a multi-million dollar music enterprise that employed dozens of people.

“How old are you anyway?” I blurted out.

Wanda frowned at the sudden interruption.

“My personal life is none of your concern.”

She had this cold way of speaking, her face almost perfectly expressionless, but her eyes were fiery, burning every time she looked directly at me. Something made me want to poke at her, to see if that fire inside could melt her icy exterior.

I couldn’t say for sure why I was having such weird reactions to her, but I was determined to find out why.

“If you are allegedly my cousin, I should know a thing or two about you, right? Like how old you are.”

She glanced briefly upward as if she were seeking divine inspiration.

“I’m forty-four.”

Nine years older than me, I noted, although I was going to be thirty-six in a few weeks. Something in Chloe’s bag beeped, breaking our latest stare-off.

“I’ve got to go,” Chloe told us. “I’ll text you later to see how things are going.”

“Be good,” she mouthed from behind Wanda.

I blew her a kiss, earning me another icy glare from Wanda.

Once Chloe left my penthouse we sat in silence for a few minutes, each of us lost in thought.

“I need to take a shower,” I finally said. “I’m still sticky from my workout. If you’re not going to leave, let me show you to your room.”

Wanda grabbed a duffle bag she’d left in the entryway and followed me through the dining room.

“Are you okay if I store some bottled blood in the refrigerator?” she asked. “It keeps longer if I can keep it cool.”

“Sure.”

I was dying to ask questions about being a vampire, but I didn’t want to be rude. I could google it.

“Since you’re determined to stay, you might as well make yourself at home.”

“Thank you.”

“I have two guest bedrooms,” I said as we entered the hallway. “This one and this one.” I pointed to the corresponding doors. “This one has an en-suite, but the other is closer to my room. It’s also much smaller.”

“I’ll take that one,” she said quickly, nodding towards the room next to mine.

Somehow I knew she would pick that one, but I couldn’t help but poke her.

“Are you sure? If you take that tiny little bedroom, you’ll have to go out into the hallway if you need to pee in the middle of the night.”

“I never pee in hallways.”

I stopped and stared at her. “I meant you’d have to go into the hallway to get to the bathroom.”

Her eyes twinkled, but her expression remained completely blank. “I know.”

“Wait, did you just make a joke?”

“I did.”

I shook my head. “Don’t do it again.”

When I finished my shower Wanda was waiting for me in the hallway, standing against the wall like a sentry. Finding her so close made me glad that I hadn’t given into the temptation to use my shower head to relieve some of the tension I’d been experiencing since I’d first set eyes on her. She gave my outfit a once-over, taking in my uber tight skinny jeans, the super low-cut tank top I wore over a push-up bra, my armful of bracelets, and the cropped leather jacket I’d chosen to pull the look together. Her expression didn’t change, but somehow she still managed to convey disapproval.

“No basketball shorts and tee?” she asked.

“I have an image to maintain, you know,” I said, flipping my long flat-ironed hair over my shoulder. “I can’t just leave the house looking like a regular person.”

Wanda just raised one eyebrow and followed me to the elevator. We were going to meet with a reporter from a national magazine. We didn’t get a lot of national folks here in Seattle, which was part of the reason I liked being able to live here in relative obscurity, but periodically some big name writer would come to the Pacific Northwest to meet with myself and the other stars who lived here to stay away from the hustle and bustle of L.A. or New York.

Speaking of which...

“Just so you know, if we run into Lila, none of the rumors are true.”

The elevator dinged as it opened into the parking garage. I started to walk out but Wanda put her arm up, pulling me back behind her while she scoped out the area. Seeing my driver idling a few feet away, she nodded and directed me to the car, her eyes scanning the area like she expected someone to jump out at us at any point.

Honestly, it felt like overkill. Sure, the letters were creepy, and I could certainly do without the dead animal pieces, but there was no way someone was going to snatch me when I left the house. At least I hoped not.

Once we were settled into the back seat of the Town Car and I’d introduced her to my driver Nate, Wanda turned in her seat to pin me with a hard look.

“Who’s Lila?”

I’d almost forgotten that I mentioned her a few minutes ago. “You know. Lila. The Lila.”

When Wanda just stared at me, I said, “Probably the most famous lesbian musician in the world?” I ended it as a question based on her blank look.

“Never heard of her.”

“How have you never heard of Lila?” I asked incredulously. “She’s been on every late night talk show and entertainment program there is.”

Wanda shrugged. “Tell me what I need to know about this Lila.”

The way she said Lila’s name somehow conveyed distaste even though her tone and expression both remained carefully neutral.

I sighed deeply. “Well, a few years ago people were shipping us.”

Another eyebrow raise.

“Shipping. You know, saying we were in a relationship. But we weren’t. We’re not even friends. I mean, we know each other, obviously, because there aren’t a lot of people at this level in music. So, sometimes we’ve been at the same events, that’s all. We’ve never done more than exchange hugs. And besides, she married her personal assistant a while back. But that didn’t stop the tabloids from saying we were fucking each other. Fortunately, the rumors died down after a while and the two of us got a good laugh over it.”

“Why do I need to know about your fake relationships?” she asked.

“Oh. Well. I just thought if someone asked you about it you should know, especially because the reporter is also interviewing Lila this week so her name might come up.” I studied her carefully. “Not that you’d be impressed by the idea that I know Lila, I take it.”

“I don’t listen to pop music.”

“Lila is more like rock than pop. Same as me,” I clarified.

“I don’t listen to rock music.”

“You mean you listen to music from when you were younger and not today’s music?” I clarified.

“No,” she said shortly, turning around to scan the road behind us.

“What do you listen to then?” I asked, fascinated.

“Classical.”

“What? Like Fleetwood Mac?” I asked. “CCR? The Eagles?”

Wanda turned back to face me again. “No, not classic rock. Classical music, like Beethoven. Mozart. Bach.”

“Hm. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone under eighty who listens to classical music,” I mused.

“Well, you’ve obviously never been to the symphony then because there are a wide variety of people there interested in music that is not drowned out by screeching or insipid lyrics.” Her tone was part defensive, part judgmental, and I didn’t like it.

“Insipid?” I asked, my voice raising. “Are you saying you think my music is insipid.”

“I have no idea, I’ve never heard it before.”

“I...”

Whatever I was going to say was interrupted by a loud bang. Before I took my next breath, Wanda had shoved me to the floor between the seats.

“Stay down,” she ordered, drawing a gun from a holster that was hidden beneath her jacket.

“Keep driving,” she ordered Nate as he lowered the privacy partition between our seats.

“I think it was just a car backfiring,” Nate called back, “No cause for alarm.”

Wanda crouched on the seat, looking through the windows, her head on a swivel as she looked in all directions. Finally, she slid her gun back in place.

“All clear,” she said.

“Could have told you that,” my driver grumbled from the front seat. “Now get your feet off my seats, please.”

As the partition closed, I heard him mumble, “Your cousin is a piece of work, Tasha.”

Wanda grabbed my hand and pulled me back up onto the seat. My heart, already racing from the excitement of the last few minutes, somehow sped up even more as her fingers wrapped around mine. In an instant, I was aroused, something that I was pretty sure Wanda realized, given the flare of her nostrils. I knew that vampires, like all supernatural creatures, were said to have a super sensitive sense of smell.

If Wanda was surprised that I got excited by a little manhandling, I was doubly surprised. I never got turned on this fast.

I shifted onto the seat, and reluctantly released her hand, turning to stare out the window. My palm was still tingling from Wanda’s touch, and I pressed it against my thigh to ground myself. I didn’t understand why I felt such a strong pull towards this woman who obviously didn’t think much of me, but I was determined to resist it. The last thing I needed right now was complications with my bodyguard. No matter how hot she was.