The Vampires' Last Lover (Dying of the Dark Vampires Book 1) by Aiden James, Patrick Burdine Page B

wrapped his free arm around my waist, guiding me to his car. I felt so safe with him, more than I ever had before. I didn’t even bother casting a nervous gaze around us. Not even when we lingered as he opened the door for me, and I grabbed him in a tight embrace and kissed him. Peter would protect me. Nothing could go wrong as long as he was here with me, I just knew it. I hoped he understood that’s what I felt.
    We headed north to his place, after coasting through the police roadblock. It went easier than either of us expected, and I took it as a good sign. Maybe, any other menace that seemed determined to get me would prove just as easy to avoid.

    “Now, babe, just get comfortable. I should have everything finished up in just a few minutes,” said Peter, once he and I got the fire up to a full blaze.
    A glass of zinfandel in hand, I looked around the living room. Even though I’d been here many times during the past two months, it felt different that night. Was it more of a haven? Perhaps. At least something that went beyond the amenities we shared with Tyreen and Johnny earlier. After all, a theater room and hot tub wouldn’t mean squat if what I glimpsed earlier on campus somehow found its way here.
    Better to be here than back in the dorm, even though Garvan and Armando endorsed Massey Hall as their version of a protected refuge. I guess I could say the advanced security system in the townhouse swung the pendulum to Peter’s place as my preferred locale.
    Looking back now, the prospect of unabashed sex with my man, who was right then putting the finishing touches on a delightful birthday dinner, further enhanced the sense of security.
    While waiting for Peter’s return to the living room, I turned on the TV, hoping to find something funny to take my mind off everything. I should have known it would be on CNN, since Peter was something of a news junkie. Of course, they just happened to be running their report on the latest news regarding the Knoxville killings. I should’ve switched stations, but I couldn’t resist lingering for a moment.
    Another missing girl had been added to the list of victims, although this one had disappeared two nights earlier and had only just been connected to the case. Another off-campus resident, this one lived less than three blocks away on Eleventh Street. Just like that, I didn’t feel quite as protected from harm.
    No longer interested in this kind of distraction, I turned the television back off. I looked around at the windows offering views I had so admired before and suddenly felt very vulnerable.
    Peter chose that moment to come into the living room.
    “Dinner’s ready, Txema!” he proudly announced. He looked adorable in his apron, still wearing an oven mitt. Of course, I didn’t tell him this, fearing he might never dress like it again if I did. “Please follow the chef to your table, madam!”
    I followed him into the dining room, where he had laid out a four-course meal. The filets looked delectable, along with potatoes, asparagus, and a bean casserole that was a recipe of his mom’s. He must have spent more time prepping this dinner than he did working on his physics paper.
    “Have a seat, darlin’, and we can dig in!” he beamed, and after pulling my chair out for me, he scurried over to his seat. He threw the apron and mitt on a table near the kitchen before sitting down. I had just settled in my chair and laid the napkin across my lap when he dug in to his own food, leaving me to fend for myself.
    I sighed. What a guy, huh? Well, at least the romantic thought was there for a moment. I guess his raging hunger and the close proximity of food turned him back into a typical male. Maybe that aspect would come in handy later.
    “So, what do you think?” he asked, once he finished. I still had a little ways to go with my filet.
    “It’s really good,” I told him, motioning the ‘okay’ for a refill in my wine glass. “I’m touched, hon. This was really