Anita Blake 15 - The Harlequin Read Online Free PDF Page B

wondering if I'm paying enough attention to you."
    He hugged me back, but not like he meant it. He pulled me back so he could see my face. "Why would you say that?"
    I finally let myself look full into his eyes. Tonight I was so distracted by him that I'd avoided his eyes almost like he was a vampire with a gaze and I was some tourist human. His eyes were lavender—really, truly the color of lilacs. But it wasn't just the color; they were large and perfect, and crowned his face with that final touch that just made your heart hurt. Too beautiful, simply too beautiful.
    He touched my face. "Anita, what's wrong?"
    I shook my head. "I don't know." And I didn't. I was attracted to Nathaniel but this was excessive. I looked away so I wouldn't be staring directly into his face. What the hell was wrong with me tonight?
    He tried to draw me into a kiss, and I pulled away. A kiss would undo me.
    His hands dropped away from me. His voice held the first hint of anger. It took a lot to make Nathaniel angry. "It's just a movie, Anita. I'm not even asking for sex, just a movie."
    I glanced up at him. "I'd rather go home and have sex."
    "Which is why I asked for the movie," he said.
    I frowned at him. "What?"
    "Are you embarrassed about being seen with me in public?"
    "No." I let my face show how much it shocked me that he'd even have to ask.
    His face was very serious, hurt, ready to be angry. "Then what is it? You won't even kiss me."
    I tried to explain. "I forgot everything but you for a minute."
    He smiled, his eyes not quite catching up to it. "Is that so bad?"
    "In my line of work, yes." I watched him try to understand. He was beautiful, but I could look at him without being stupid-faced. I moved closer to the smell of the new leather coat. I hugged him, and after a second's hesitation he hugged me back. I buried my face against the scent of leather and him. Sweet, clean, and underneath that the smell of vanilla. I knew now that it was only partially him, that some of that sweet scent was bath products and cologne, but the scent he wore didn't smell so lusciously of vanilla on anyone else's skin. One of those tricks of skin chemistry that changes the scent of the really good perfumes.
    "We need to get seats." He whispered it against my hair.
    I drew away from him, frowning again. I shook my head and that only partially cleared it. I reached into my coat pocket for a small, padded velvet bag. I opened it and dug the padding out until a cross spilled into my hand. It lay there silver and inert. I'd half expected it to glow, to show me that some vamp was messing with me. But it lay there, innocent and untouched.
    "What is wrong, Anita?" Nathaniel looked worried now.
    "I think someone's messing with me."
    "The cross isn't showing it."
    "You're scrumptious, Nathaniel, but it's not like me to lose focus this badly in public."
    "You think Mommie Dearest is trying again?" he asked.
    Mommie Dearest was my nickname for the head of the vampire council, the creator of vampire culture. The last time she'd messed with me, a cross had burned into my hand and had to be pried out by a doctor. I had a permanent scar in my left palm from it. Up to now the cross, in a bag or under my bed, had kept her at bay.
    "I don't know, maybe."
    "There aren't that many vamps that can get through your psychic shields," he said.
    I slipped the chain over my neck, the silver glittering against the thin silk sweater.
    "You sure that's enough cloth between your skin and the cross?"
    "No, but I don't think it's Mommie."
    He sighed and tried to keep the frown off his face. "Do you need to skip the movie?"
    "No, Jean-Claude said we'd be safe tonight."
    "Okay," Nathaniel said, "but I don't like the way you said that. What's gone wrong now?"
    "Let's find seats and I'll tell you what little I know," I said. We managed to find two seats in the back row so my back was to a wall and I could see the rest of the theatre. I wasn't being paranoid, or at least not more paranoid than