Kissed by Darkness by Shéa MacLeod Read Free Book Online

pinkish scar. No half-decent guy would comment on such a thing. The green dress I’d purchased for the occasion was simple and a good color and cut for me. Showed off the curves, one of my few vanities.
    Well, this was as good as it was going to get. I grabbed my black bag off the dresser and headed for the door, ignoring the fancy beaded evening bag Kabita had given me. There was no way I was going out unarmed, and evening bags just weren’t built for carrying UV guns or silver tipped knives. So I wouldn’t exactly be stylish, nothing new there.
    I was ten minutes early to the restaurant. I hated being late to things. It always seemed so rude. By the time I walked through the doors, I felt sick to my stomach. I really hated dating.
    The restaurant was one of those soothing and somewhat posh places you find downtown with low, cushy booths, dim lights, and an open fire in the middle of the room. There was even a real live pianist plinking out something hauntingly romantic by Bach. I knew it was supposed to be calming, but it just made me even more nervous. I hoped the glasses weren’t real crystal.
    “I’m sorry, Madame, but your date has not arrived yet,” the maitre d’ said with an affected British accent. That almost got my mind off my stomach. Almost. After living for a few years in London, I knew the real thing when I heard it. His was most definitely not the real thing. “Would Madame like to sit in the bar and have a drink?”
    “Oh, yes, Madame most certainly would.” I think the sarcasm went completely over his head as he gave me a vacuous smile and waved me down the hall toward the bar.
    The bar was even cozier than the restaurant, all dark wood and rich auburn carpet, heavy drapes on the windows and old school jazz on the sound system. A group of businessmen had their jackets slung on the back of their chairs and were laughing over their bottles of micro brew. The couple in the corner was too busy making eyes at each other to drink their cocktails. This was a little better.
    Half an hour and two glasses of wine later, my date finally showed up. I was already feeling a bit irritated by his lateness, but that was nothing compared to how I felt after he gave me a very obvious once-over. A once-over that left it very clear to anyone with a brain that he considered me far beneath his usual standard of women. I wasn’t sure why he found me so inferior, but I refused to be intimidated by rudeness.
    He offered me a hand, albeit rather reluctantly. His handshake was limp as a dead fish and his palm rather moist. Ew. You could tell a lot about a man by his handshake. He gave me what I assumed was supposed to be a smile but was a lot closer to a grimace. “Hello, you must be Miss Bailey. Edmond Winters.”
    I honestly didn’t know at that point which was worse: his handshake or the fact he called me “Miss Bailey.” Dear gods, why did I let my mother do this to me?
    I gave his hand a good, hard shake and flashed my pearly whites. “Morgan.” Please, let a vampire attack us. Please let a vampire attack us . It wasn’t that he was ugly or anything, even if he did have his light brown hair slicked back against his skull so he looked like a drowned rat. It was just, well, I hated going on dates, especially with men who thought they were superior.
    Fifteen minutes later, I was praying for a hell hole to open up and swallow me. Or preferably him. I hadn’t been able to get a word in edgewise. He’d been droning on about his work as an accountant. An accountant! I was sure it was all very fascinating stuff, but honestly, I killed the undead for a living. The vagaries of number crunching somehow just didn’t interest me all that much.
    My eyes were just about glazed over by the time the waiter finally came for our order. “We’ll take two of the veal,” Edmond ordered. Oh, no, he didn’t. No he didn’t.
    “Excuse me,” I said in my most saccharine sweet voice. “ We will not take the veal. I will have the