Chapter 6

Robert Montgomery

Whatever little I managed to dig up on Charlotte Beaumont, I was able to verify. She did go to a local high school in Portland, but she enrolled when she was fifteen. She also never applied for college even though she had remarkable grades. Instead, she did odd jobs. It was almost as if she had no money and was trying to earn a living.

Very odd for a vampire. More so for a fifteen-year-old one.

Vampire clans take pride in their children. I found it puzzling that one of them had been struggling at such a young age and no one seemed to have intervened. I followed her trail all the way back to a women's shelter. I couldn't get a hold of the person who ran it during that time, but I did get confirmation from their records that a Charlotte lived with them for a while. The person couldn't find much information on her, but she remembered Charlotte's red hair and green eyes.

She has worked at human-owned establishments since as far back as I can trace her. I even got a hold of her financials. She has some decent savings but nothing to indicate that she's a spy of any sort. Everything I've uncovered about her shows that she has been living like a human among humans.

But why?

Why is a vampire living like that?

My family didn't want me, okay? I'm a defective vampire!

It makes me feel foolish that I wasn't able to put two and two together. I knew that vampires take pride in strength. They don't tolerate the weak, even in their own ranks. But I've never heard of a clan exiling a child, because that is what Charlotte was when she arrived at the shelter.

I didn't realize a lot of things.

The fact that I didn't find her in any of the registries meant that her name had been removed. Only a legal guardian can do that.

She hadn't known.

The shocked look in her eyes when she came to that conclusion made me feel like a monster. She had tears in those pretty eyes, a devastation that I put there. It made my wolf miserable.

It made me feel regretful about not showing tact.

I knew she wasn't a threat when I walked into the coffee shop tonight. I knew of her background to some extent; I simply wanted to know the name of her clan. It hadn't occurred to me that they had thrown her out, that she belonged nowhere.

I pull my car to the side of the road and get out.

It's late, but I'm not ready to sleep yet. Aside from the pretty vampire whose heart I pretty much broke today, I've got other things bothering me, as well. To be more precise, the fact that nobody seems to remember where Harry came to pick me up and where the clean-up crew came to install the new door is making me nervous. I'm beginning to lean more and more toward the idea of a witch or warlock in Portland.

Witches and warlocks both practice magic, but witches do so using nature while warlocks supposedly draw power from something much more sinister. Both were driven out centuries ago, way before my time, and ever since the act of registering every supernatural being came into play, the ones who had stayed behind or returned at some point found themselves targeted by overly ambitious vampires or shifters. They're a minority even in other parts of the world.

I close the car door and look around. I parked around the corner from where I was attacked. I still don't remember much of anything from that night, but it would make sense if I made my way down the street closest to me. The only way to find out is to check out the area, which is a mixture of houses and shops.

As I walk toward that street, I see a tabby cat strolling toward me. It has a collar around its neck and only one functioning eye.

As it approaches me, I stop. "Well, hello."

It winds between my legs, purring.

"Aren't you friendly?" I pick it up, and it settles in my arms without a hint of protest. "Where's your owner?"

The cat lets out a meow and happily rubs against my neck.

I look in the direction of the street I was heading toward and decide to take my little companion with me. It most likely escaped from somewhere over there. As I begin to walk, I hear someone crying out.

"Mano!"

The voice is very familiar. We're on a long, winding street, with woods on one side and shops and houses on the other.

"Mano, come back!"

I can feel the cat growing restless in my arms as we get closer to the voice.

"You must be Mano, then," I murmur, looking down at it. "Bad kitty. You upset your owner."

"Mano!"

The broken heartedness of that cry makes my wolf howl. Unwittingly, I find myself moving faster, the desperate nature of the call making my heart tighten. As the road curves, I see a woman standing in the middle of the street, wearing pajamas only a child would willingly wear, her red hair tied in a bun that has no chance against those wild, loose curls of hers.

Charlotte.

No wonder that voice was familiar.

No wonder my wolf reacted. It always does to her.

She's crying. I can smell the salt of her tears all the way from here.

For a moment, I stand there and watch her, even as the cat wriggles in my arms.

Her whole body is shaking as she sobs out the cat's name again and again.

I don't like it.

I don't like the sound of those broken sobs.

"Charlotte."

She turns around, and those pretty green eyes are red-rimmed, devastation evident in them. Her face is wet with tears, and I hold out the cat who is desperately meowing now. "I found your cat on the main street."

"Mano," she mumbles before darting toward me and snatching the one-eyed tabby from my hands. "I thought I'd lost you!"

The cat doesn't shy away from her hold, and I watch Charlotte's fingers dig into its fur. She's trying to control her tears, and it's hard to resist the urge to comfort her.

I give her a couple of minutes and study her in the meantime. There's nothing cold or manipulative about this woman. She wears her heart on her sleeve. The way she's bawling over her missing cat affects me. I know those are relieved tears, but there is something incredibly innocent about Charlotte that tugs at my heart strings.

When she looks up, she wipes her eyes with one hand. "Thank you for finding her and bringing her back."

"Of course." I smile at her warmly. My eyes are drawn to her clothes once again. They're childishly endearing, and I grin. "I like the pajamas."

She looks down, and her cheeks flush instantly. Seeing the color spread across her pale skin makes me want to tease her more. From our first meeting, I have found her beautiful. The fact that she's one of those bloodsuckers hasn't done anything to diminish that attraction. Even when I grew suspicious of her, I couldn't deny how her presence made me want to admire her beauty. And now, as she looks at me, sniffling, the red coloring her cheeks in embarrassment and mortification, I find my gaze drawn to those pouty lips. There is nothing elegant or sophisticated about her at this moment, and yet all I can think about is how pretty she looks.

"I—I didn't think I'd run into anybody." She holds the cat closer to her chest. "Especially not you."

"You don't live here." I look around, my hunch confirmed now.

She gives me a cautious look. "I could."

"I already know your address, little vampire."

When she stiffens, I raise a brow. "Don't you remember I did a background search on you?"

Her shoulders fall in defeat. "Look, I'm going to find another job, okay? I'll be out of your hair soon."

It would be ideal if she did. Just because it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, doesn't always mean it is a duck. Charlotte might not seem to be a threat but if she left, even the tiniest chance of it would disappear.

"You don't have to leave your job." I tuck my hands in my pockets, knowing I shouldn't be saying this. "You can work in my territory and live here. It's fine."

She eyes me. "Can I get that in writing?"

A bark of laughter leaves my mouth. "Sure."

Her nod is jerky, but I can see the relief in her eyes. "I—Thanks. For finding Mano. I don't know how to repay you."

"How about buying me dinner?"

Her lips part, and she struggles to say something before glancing to the side at the animal shelter. "I'm on duty tonight. I can't leave."

"Then we can order in."

She can't seem to think up a reasonable excuse to say no and finally says, "I guess. Sure."

She really doesn't want me around, and the more she resists, the more I want to invade her space. I follow her inside. Just standing in the small lobby, I can tell that this is an expensive place. Odd for a shelter.

"I have to bring the dog in. Just wait here. Can you hold Mano? Make sure she doesn't follow me."

She dumps the cat in my arms before hurrying to the back of the building. I hear a door open and then a whine. Moments later, the door closes, and there's the rattle of a cage door. Charlotte's sweet voice is murmuring apologies to the pup. I smell the distinct scent of what can only be dog treats.

When she returns, she immediately takes Mano from my arms. "C'mere, baby."

Her voice is a soft croon. I blink, the gentle sound making my heart skip a beat. "You really love her."

For a brief moment, I find myself envious of the cat who is at the receiving end of such fierce adoration.

"She's my whole world," Charlotte admits, not even looking at me. The cat clearly enjoys the attention, purring loudly.

I study the two of them, and then I ask, "Why didn't you tell me you were the one who saved me, the other night?"

Charlotte freezes for a moment and then opens her mouth. "I don't know what—"

"Don't bother lying to me," I cut her off bluntly. "It was you, alright. Why did you do it? You'd already met me. You must have known what I was. Why help me?"

She shrugs, looking uncomfortable, shifting her gaze away from me and toward the animal in her arms. "Why do you care? It's already over and done with, and I really don't like rehashing things."

"Indulge me," I insist, smiling at her.

She takes a few minutes to reply, her fingers moving through Mano's fur. Interesting tactic.

Avoidance.

"Charlotte."

"You were going to die if I didn't intervene," she bursts out, her expression uneasy. "I didn't think you deserved to die."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I could help, so I did."

She has a soft heart. This is merely further evidence.

"Why not just tell me?"

She shrugs. "I didn't want to be dragged into anything. Besides, it's not as if you would have believed me. A vampire saving a wolf shifter. Even the idea sounds ridiculous."

Her reasoning takes me aback, and she gives me a hard look. "I live among humans, like a human, Mr. Montgomery—"

"Robert, please," I say quickly. "Call me Robert."

"Fine, but the thing is, I don't belong anywhere. I have no choice but to live among humans. I don't want to get dragged into this war between vampires and shifters. I have no role in anything. I just wait on people, sell them coffee, and then I come and volunteer here. I'm going to become a vet one day. See, I have very human aspirations. I'm not a threat to the wolves or the vampires. I just want to be left alone."

Her voice is matter-of-fact, but I can hear the underlying meaning behind her words.

I don't belong anywhere.

Not even among the humans, I muse.

What a lonely existence.

I smile at her warmly. "Thank you. For helping me that night."

She flushes and shrugs once again. "Sure. It was no big deal."

The way her eye is still slightly bruised tells me she suffered greatly to do it. Especially when she clearly does not have the same fast healing of her kind.

The smart thing would be to close this chapter here and walk away.

Since she doesn't want to get involved with the supernatural world, it would be best for me to retreat and leave her to the life she's building for herself. But my wolf doesn't want to leave. And neither do I.

I still want to ask her about her clan, but the topic seems to be a sensitive one for her.

"So, what about dinner?"

Charlotte looks a little hesitant. "It's the end of the month, so I don't have a lot of cash right now. The best I can do is order Chinese. There's a small takeout place not far from here. They have good egg rolls."

"Sure." I pluck Mano from her arms. "You order, then."

The cat sniffs my face before climbing on top of my shoulder and stretching herself out.

I watch Charlotte place the order, and my mind fills with a hundred questions, none of which I can ask right now. She's so young, in her early twenties. A man in his mid-thirties is surely nothing short of boring for her, but I can't talk myself into leaving. Even in her silly pajamas, she is adorable. I don't think I could ever tire of looking at this woman.

As I stare at Charlotte while she talks to the restaurant on the phone, I realize I've never wanted someone the way I want this woman. Everything inside me, including my wolf, wants to possess this beautiful creature, and the sheer force of this desire frightens me. From the moment I laid eyes on her, I've been fascinated. I knew what she was then, and I know what she is now, but it doesn't matter.

It must be a purely physical response. Because why would I be attracted to a vampire? It makes no sense. My kind can sleep with those outside our species, but our wolves are drawn to our mates, whether fated or chosen by our animals. I can't understand my wolf's desire to be around this little vampire.

I've seen plenty of beautiful women in my life. Since I'm the Alpha, especially these days, there is no shortage of women throwing themselves at me. And yet my eyes keep going toward this little barista with her one-eyed cat, childish pajamas, and untamed hair. I keep watching her face, the way her lips move, how her eyes glisten.

I've been attracted to women before, but never like this.

A small voice in my head tells me to leave. It warns me not to be selfish, not to be foolish. Charlotte doesn't want to be dragged into the world of Others, and the scarring on my face acts as a repellent against women as it is.

My lips curve in a self-deprecating smile. Charlotte doesn't look at me and see a desirable man. She must see an Alpha with a terrifying, ugly face.

But the fact that those eyes of hers don't hold the slightest amount of disdain both puzzles and intrigues me. It makes me want to stay. The boy inside me who has been shunned for so long wonders when he will see that disgust.

"So, you work here?"

"I volunteer," she replies, setting down the phone.

"You don't get paid, then?" I study her, pondering something. "Why do it at all? I doubt this is easy work."

The caution in her eyes is unmistakable. "I like animals. I'm saving up to go to veterinary school."

"You mentioned it. A vampire vet?" I chuckle.

When her eyes narrow, I instantly clamp my mouth shut, repentant. "I didn't mean—"

"What's so odd about that?" She looks miffed.

"Nothing, it's just—"

"I am very good with animals, and I have helped Ricky with plenty of his surgeries!"

"Who's Ricky?"

"He runs this shelter," Charlotte shoots at me, "and he's a very good vet. He'll help me with my entrance exam once I finish my prerequisite courses."

"You're a student, as well?" I blink in surprise.

"I'm going to enroll in community college next semester." Charlotte glowers at me, eyes flashing.

I enjoy the show of temper. "Good for you."

She seems a little taken aback by my encouragement, and the look on her face has me asking, "What?"

"N—Nothing." She tries to move her shoulders in a shrug. "I don't usually get that response."

"What kind of response do you usually get?"

Charlotte looks reluctant to answer but does so. "That I'm aiming too high. Once a waitress, always a waitress."

Annoyance stirs within me. "What kind of bullshit is that? Don't tell me your colleagues at the coffee shop said that! They seem to like you."

She laughs lightly, as if the very idea is ludicrous. "Not them. I've never told them."

No more information is offered, and she sits behind the front desk. "Anyway, I'm going to become a vet. I have a plan. I'm very good at planning."

Her confidence is endearing, and I smile. "I bet you are."

Her head shoots up. "There's no need to be condescending."

"I'm not," I protest with a chuckle, getting up and bringing her cat over to her. "I truly do think you are good at planning. After all, you've survived without a clan all these years. That couldn't have been an easy feat."

Charlotte takes Mano from me, but the cat seems to be in no mood to return to her owner. Instead, she jumps to the ground, and with her tail up in the air, she wanders off. I move to pick her up again, but Charlotte shakes her head. "It's fine. All the doors are locked. She's probably going to go into the back office to take a nap."

It's just the two of us now, and the silence that falls between us is awkward.

"So," I begin, but Charlotte cuts me off.

"Are you really going to leave me alone now?"

I blink slowly. "Is that what you want?"

Her fingers pluck at the threads on her shirt. "I told you, I just really don't want to get involved."

I nod. "I understand. I can guarantee that none of my people will bother you. I'll make sure they know you have permission to work and live in my territory."

Charlotte looks relieved and gives me a faint smile. "Thank you."

"That doesn't mean you won't be seeing me from time to time," I say, grinning. "It is the closest cafe to my office, you know. And I enjoy the baked goods and the coffee."

"I guess that's okay." She gives me another small smile.

A sudden flurry of barking has us both looking toward the back of the shelter. Charlotte jumps to her feet, rushing toward the source of the sound. I follow her. She switches on a pair of dim ceiling lights in the furthest room in the back, revealing a line of cages. The barking seems to be coming from a cage in the corner, and after Charlotte opens it, she brings out a small puppy.

"There, there, Zeno. There's a good boy."

The puppy seems to be a mixed breed.

"How old is he?" I ask curiously, watching her pet the shivering little dog.

"A couple of months. A teenager found him on the side of the road and brought him in last week. We're trying to find him a home, but he's got anxiety. I don't know if anybody will adopt him. It doesn't help that he's a mixed breed. People prefer pure breeds or prominent ones. These little fellas slip through the cracks." Her hand strokes the anxious puppy's head, and her voice is sad, a little wistful. "Nobody wants you, do they, Zeno?"

Seeing her press a kiss on the top of the quivering puppy's head, I feel a strange stirring within my heart. "What's going to happen to him?"

Charlotte meets my gaze, and there is a heavy sadness in her eyes. "I don't know. Thank heavens we are not a kill shelter. We're trying our best to get him adopted. I'm not going to think about what's going to happen to him in the future. I'm just going to do whatever I can to make sure he gets into a good forever home."

I hold out my finger to the puppy, who sniffs it. Suddenly, his little tail begins to wag.

"He knows you're an Alpha," Charlotte realizes. "He feels safe around you."

He's kind of cute, I muse to myself. I ask, "May I?"

She lets me hold him. Zeno can't wait to jump into my arms and begin licking my face, his tail thumping against my arm.

Charlotte is smiling broadly when I look at her; her eyes are on the puppy. "This is the first time he's behaved like this. He's usually so docile and terrified. I can't believe he likes you."

It's not just the puppy who's begun to let their guard down around me, it seems.

Pleased, I pet his head. "How do you even look after one of these?"

"It's not so hard," Charlotte tells me. "If you have a backyard, that's great. Otherwise, you have to take him out to relieve himself. Bring him in for a checkup at the vet every other month, give him food and water and loads of attention."

Zeno whines and licks my chin as I rub his head. "What would I need? Like, a bed or something for him?"

"Yeah, you'll need to get him his own bed, some chew toys, a leash—Wait." Charlotte stops in her tracks, giving me a bewildered look. "Are you planning to adopt Zeno?"

I scratch the puppy under his chin. "If nobody wants him, I don't mind taking him. But of course, since I don't know the first thing about taking care of a puppy, I'll have to come to you for guidance. That won't be a problem, will it?"

"No," she replies after a moment. "But if you want to adopt him, I have to fill out the paperwork, and Ricky has to give Zeno another checkup before we can hand him over."

She seems pretty happy, and the knowledge that this little puppy is most likely going to chew through most of my furniture doesn't seem all that bad in the face of that bright smile right now.

As Charlotte takes Zeno from me and puts him back in his cage with a few treats, my eyes keep straying toward her. She's got a soft heart, softer than typical for her kind or even for shifters. She's also undeniably strong, given the circumstances she has clearly overcome. She should still be wary of me, but she seems to have forgiven my intrusion into her life quite easily.

It worries me.

How is she going to survive like this? In my eyes, she's little more than a defenseless kitten, hissing at the world when it corners her. I doubt she'd like that description of her, though. She also has pride.

I hear the faint sound of footsteps out front. "I think the delivery guy is here."

Charlotte looks surprised. "He is?"

She can't hear him?

Now that I think about it, I don't know exactly why her clan considered her defective. Her healing is slow, sure. But what else?

"I heard him knock," I lie. "You finish up here, and I'll go get the food."

I'm already reaching for my wallet.

When I reach the front office, a teenager is standing outside the glass door holding two plastic bags filled with containers of food. I unlock the door and step outside, not missing the look of annoyance in his eyes. "How much?"

"Twenty-four dollars, plus a ten-dollar tip." The boy puts the bags down on the street and holds out his hand expectantly.

I raise a brow. "Why don't you carry the food inside then, if you want that tip?"

"I don't have to do shit." He makes a face.

I smile pleasantly. "Then I don't have to pay shit."

"I'm bringing my wallet!" Charlotte calls out as she walks outside. "Fred! How's your arm?"

Fred flushes. "Hi, Charlotte. It's okay. I went to a doctor. He said it was just a light sprain. You don't have to worry about me."

Charlotte looks concerned. "You really shouldn't be carrying anything. Tell your father you can't do any more deliveries till the sprain heals."

Fred looks pleased, shooting me a smug look. "I'm really strong. And I like bringing you your orders. I put in an extra order of dumplings for you."

He whispers the last part to her, giving her a small wink.

Charlotte beams at him. "Thanks! How much is the tot—"

"I've got it," I interrupt her, glancing down at the boy's arms. There looks to be nothing wrong with them, nothing swollen whatsoever.

My eyes narrow.

This little brat.

Before I can say anything, an icy smell reaches my nose.

"Charlotte, why don't you take these inside?" I suggest, keeping my voice pleasant. I pick up the two bags and hand them over to her in the doorway before she can protest.

She shoots me a look but thankfully doesn't say anything. As she goes inside, I hand the boy the money, including his tip. "Where exactly is this restaurant?"

"Down the road," he glances behind me, probably looking for Charlotte. "I was still talking to her."

"Go." I put my hands on his shoulders and whirl him around. "Walk."

He huffs, and I advise in a low voice, "If I were you, I would run, kid. There was a stray dog out here earlier. He didn't look too friendly."

Fred looks around anxiously. "You're not kidding?"

"Do I look like I would joke around with you? Now, go."

He hightails it out of there, and I walk to stand in the middle of the street, my eyes on him. I see him round the bend, and then a minute later, I hear the slam of a door. I smell no blood.

My gaze darts around.

I can feel the eyes on me.

Someone is watching.

By the smell of it, it's a vampire.