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Oh. His answer honestly throws me off-balance. His lip quirks higher as if he knows it, and he lifts the lowball glass and takes a drink without ever breaking my gaze. It’s actually refreshing, the look in his eyes. He’s not looking at me like I’m a little girl playing dress-up at her father’s company, or like a pretty doll who’s meant to be seen and admired but not offer opinions of her own.
He’s looking at me the way Niamh does. Like he actually sees me as a person with nuance and depth and opinions.
Dammit. I’m going to have to thank Niamh and tell her she was right to goad me into coming over. It’s going to be terrible.
I study his eyes, looking between them and taking in the vibrant color. His pupils are wide in the pub light, but not so wide I can’t admire how it looks as if someone laid a snowflake made of gold foil in his irises. His eyes are warm enough they almost look metallic.
“Are you going to ask?”
I startle, realizing I’ve been staring at his eyes like an absolute creep. But he still only looks amused, except it doesn’t feel like he’s mocking me. His teasing voice invites me to share his humor.
I duck my head, my cheeks burning regardless, and tuck my hair behind my right ear as I look back up with a sheepish grin.
“Are you a vampire?”
He inclines his head to the side, his eyebrows raising slightly. “I am. Does that bother you?”
“No.” The answer is immediate, and his smile widens. It makes my next decision easy. I reach over the table, offering him my hand. “My name is Wren,” I introduce myself officially.
He takes my hand, his palm smooth and cool, squeezing gently as we shake once. “My name is Landon. A pleasure to finally meet you.”
When I pull away, I swear his fingers ghost over my palm as if reluctant.
“So, you’re a vampire who enjoys classical music,” I begin before taking another drink of the beer and then tilt the glass towards him. “Thanks for this, by the way. What do you do for work?”
Lan’s eyes narrow in consideration. “I work in acquisitions: information, primarily.”
I can’t help slipping into my corporate voice. “How long have you been doing that?”
He leans forward, propping himself up on his forearms and lacing his fingers together, still meeting my eyes. “About a century now. Before that I preferred trade in antiquities.”
“Interesting. How long have you been in Newgate?”
Lan raises a brow, his eyes warm and teasing. “Are you interviewing me for a job, Ms. Foster? I can assure you, any position I’m interested in with you is strictly unprofessional.”
My face goes as red as my hair, my heart leaps into my throat even as my core grows slick just at the insinuation.
“Sorry,” I quickly apologize, and I mean it. I gesture between us. “I’m not really good at this type of thing. Put me in front of a panel, and I can handle the sharks. Something like this where…” my mouth dries as I trail off, embarrassment at my social awkwardness taking over the blush in my cheeks.
Lan, though, takes it all in easy stride. “Something like what?” he asks, his voice is like a cool balm over my burning skin. “A conversation with a man who finds you extremely attractive and would happily accept anything you’re willing to share with him?”
Oh, fuck me sideways. His blunt statement is not helping things, as much as I appreciate it at the same time.
“We just met!” I point out when I’m capable of words again. “We don’t know anything about each other.”
He takes another long drink of his whisky, studying me. He’s hypnotic and as much as I want to squirm, I’m frozen under the attention.
“I make a point to know everything I can about things I enjoy. I know you graduated high school at sixteen and entered college the same year. You graduated with a double major at twenty in business and computer engineering. You completed your PhD by twenty-two. Your academic accomplishments are impressive on their own, but doubly so considering that you’ve continued your cellist career the entire time as well as beginning to work at Oberon Tech. Most would say what you’ve accomplished is impossible.”
Lan recites the basics of my professional history, and if I hadn’t been used to it, I would have found it uncomfortable. As it is, the only thing I feel is resentment and sorrow that a vampire who is at least a century old thinks I’m impressive and my own father doesn’t.
I finish the last quarter of my beer and set the glass down with a clunk of the tabletop before grabbing an unused pulpboard coaster for something to fidget with. Another thing that would disappoint my father.
Lan draws my attention when he raises a hand, silently ordering another round. I force myself to set down the coaster and smile at Lan. I came over here to flirt and have fun, not wallow in my baggage.
“That’s just my professional portfolio,” I say dismissively but keep my tone light. “It doesn’t tell you who I am.”
“Oh, I disagree, Wren.”
