The Last Vampire: Book Five by R. A. Steffan & Jaelynn Woolf

Author:R. A. Steffan & Jaelynn Woolf [Steffan, R. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: OtherLove Publishing, LLC
Published: 2019-09-13T16:00:00+00:00

ELEVEN

OKAY, SO RANS and Guthrie hadn’t been kidding. Most of these people were shitwads of the highest order. Apparently, the combination of me being both female and not one hundred percent Caucasian meant that I was automatically dismissed as having any value beyond tits and ass.

I briefly debated the merits of making an issue of the casual racism-slash-sexism on display, only to dismiss it in favor of pulling animus from every entitled sonuvabitch who couldn’t seem to keep his gaze above the level of my collarbones. Meanwhile, I gained a sort of twisted amusement from watching them try to figure out Rans, who appeared content to play the role of urbane metrosexual while slipping casual little barbs into the swirl of conversation surrounding the evening buffet tables.

On the positive side, the burgers were good. Though, honestly, they would have been even better without the ‘paté de fois gras in a truffle reduction’ smeared between the micro-greens and the top bun. Regardless, though, the combination of all-you-can-eat haute cuisine and horny, sexist assholes ogling me meant that I was pleasantly full of both food and stolen animus by the time Rans suggested we wander through the various shops lining the mezzanine level, before returning to our suite.

I strolled along with him, my arm looped through his. He’d shed his jacket again, and was getting as many admiring looks from the women as I’d been getting lascivious ones from the good-ol’-boy crowd. He appeared completely oblivious to the attention, still trapped in his own private darkness, and I knew it was past time for me to call him out on it. I bumped his shoulder with mine and met his distracted blue gaze when he glanced at me.

“You’re really worrying me now,” I told him frankly. “I mean—there’s just tons of material here for sarcasm and bad jokes. Not like you to let all of it go to waste, lover. Talk to me… please?”

This was still new territory for me. In my admittedly not very plentiful experience with relationships, trying to get a man to open up was generally the prelude to hearing a litany of my many failings, and subsequently getting my ass dumped. I was taking it on faith that what Rans and I had was something different, but that didn’t stop my flutter of nerves at the idea of prying at his current mental state.

He glanced at our surroundings—perhaps trying to judge the level of interest the self-absorbed people around us might have in our conversation. I suspected the answer hovered somewhere in the vicinity of absolutely none, and he seemed to agree. With a sigh, he led me to a stretch of wall between two shop fronts. I leaned back against it, letting him block out the world beyond with his body as he rested a hand next to my right shoulder.

His chin dipped, his eyes closing as though in sudden exhaustion. “I’m sorry, Zorah,” he said in a low voice. “We’ve come this far, but… the truth is, I have no idea what to do next.

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