My Midnight Moonlight Valentine Read online

  He let go of my face to glance down at his hands as if they were brand new, stretching them out. “There are only one of two explanations for that. Either, I was attacked in 1920, and my body has only just now healed from the damage, which I doubt. Or somehow, I’ve lost my memory of the last century.”

  “How?” A vampire with amnesia? Was that possible?

  He leaned in, pressing his lips to my ear. “Do you see why I need your help now, Ms. Monroe?”

  “How can I help you, though?” I whispered, not sure why I was reacting this way. Other vampires did their best to avoid me, and I didn’t actively seek them out, either. Yet, here I was, patiently listening and questioning Theseus.

  “Young one,” he whispered into my ear, and I shivered but didn’t move away. “Do you not know when a vampire is claiming you?”

  My eyes went wide, and I glanced down at the body of the man I’d drank from. One of the other things I knew of vampire society—mating rituals. A vampire brought his intended mate food. To accept, they had to share from the same body, then afterward, they consummated the bond and marked each other. Without realizing it, I’d begun the ritual with him.

  “Why the hell would you do that?” I snapped at him.

  “What a strange question,” he said flatly. “Why does any vampire mate?”

  “Love!”

  At that, he laughed outright. “You are very young and naïve.”

  “You are old and crazy!”

  “Perfect, we shall balance each other.” He grabbed my hand, pulling me closer. His body was pressed against mine, and I could feel him through his clothes.

  But I ignored him, standing firm and cold against him. “Unless you plan on forcing me here on the forest floor, I’m not mating with you.”

  “Do I look like a brute to you?”

  “You tricked me to get this far.”

  “I saved your life to get this far.”

  I glared. “Do you plan to let me go, Mr. Thorbørn?”

  “Only if you swear that you shall help find out what happened to me.”

  “Why should I do that?”

  “To get me out of your hair, of course.” He picked a few leaves from my hair. “Who knows if I could have someone I already intended to be with who makes me forget my current desire for you.”

  I glared even harder before pushing him away and turning around.

  “At the very least, you owe me for saving your life,” he added.

  I pointed my finger directly in his face. “That’s the only reason I’m helping you.”

  He grinned. “How kind of you, Ms. Monroe.”

  He was sneaky. I felt like he was going to pull another trick, and at the same time, there was something about him.

  God, I really hoped this was not how my love story began, with a naked vampire suffering from amnesia and dead witches in northern Virginia.

  Chapter 2

  Theseus followed behind me, making sure to leave a little distance between us. I wasn’t sure if it was for my sake, or if he wanted to just keep an eye on me. But I had a feeling it was the latter. We were both covered in dirt as he and I had to bury the dead witches. I couldn’t even think of what he suggested instead of burying them. Apparently, his way was to guarantee they were never found. But I couldn’t do it. He didn’t press, and he went along with my preference. I hoped that if I lived as long as he had, I was never so cavalier about humans. It felt like we’d spent hours in the forest when we finally reached the abandoned side of the road where my black, vintage 1956, oval window, Volkswagen beetle—that I’d named, Nightingbug—sat waiting patiently.

  I glanced back and caught him as he ran to the driver’s side.

  “You are not driving my car!” I snapped.

  “I was not planning to do so.” He opened the car door and held it open to the red seats.

  It took me a second to realize he was doing it for me. And the calmness that radiated off him felt a bit like arrogance. Feeling a tad stupid now, I moved to open his door for him as well. The corner of his mouth twitched up.

  “Yes, but now who will sit first, stubborn one?” he questioned, amused.

  “I’m not stubborn,” I stubbornly said, making him more amused. Biting my tongue, I moved around the car and took a seat first, closing the door myself.

  I didn’t even have to wait for him before I started the car. He was already in and seated beside me. “Put on your seat belt.”

  “Put on what?” he asked, puzzled.

  I looked at him, and he just stared back. I reached over my shoulder and pulled on the belt, bringing it over my chest and clicking it into place at my hips.

  He looked over his shoulder and then yanked on the belt so hard I heard shirking, but I wasn’t sure if it was the belt or me.

  “Oh my God. Stop!” I gasped, quickly reaching over him and grabbing the belt, taking it from his hand. Slowly, I let it go and brought it back down, clicking it in myself.

  “My apologies,” he whispered by my face.

  Glaring at him, I sat a bit straighter, shifting the gear and driving out of the spot. He was conformable and quiet when we were in the woods. But when we got onto the highway and toward the city, the bright lights and cars made him tense. He scanned everything in slight wonder and amazement. I couldn’t imagine what was going through his mind.

  “I worried that mortal social norms would draw attention to us, but it seems humans have evolved over the last century.” His head was nearly out the window.

  “What?” It felt like I was saying that a lot, but I wasn’t sure what he was referring to.

  He glanced back at me and pointed a finger out the window. “Not only do those of the black skin live freely now, but so do homosexuals. I thought it would be at least another two hundred years before the humans got over such trivial things.”

  I thought of the early 1900s, the world Theseus last remembered. I had only been thinking about how technology had advanced and had forgotten how society had as well.

  “Oh,” I whispered and nodded, turning onto K Street. “Yeah, a lot has changed, but it’s not perfect by a long shot.”

  “Well, they are humans; it is best not to expect too much,” he said as if that were more than enough explanation.

  “We were humans once,” I reminded him.

  “You truly know nothing of our kind, do you?” He frowned, his grey eyes shifting over me. “I guess it is to be expected as you are an orphan. Do you know nothing of your maker?”

  “Shouldn’t you be more worried about yourself? How is possible you don’t remember the last hundred years? Did you bump your head or something?”

  “It would take a mighty hard bump.” He snickered, and it bothered me.

  I didn’t know anything about this man other than his ridiculous name, and he was from Greece over a thousand years ago, but still, he should take this more seriously. “You are very calm about all of this. Have you ever lost your memory before?”

  “Never.” He stuck his head out the window to read the billboard as we passed. “Though once in Spain, I had my head ripped off and my body burned and scattered to the winds. It took my body a year to heal from that. But in my last memories of 1920, I was not injured.”

  My mouth dropped open, and I snapped my neck to look over at him. “You’ve had your head ripped off? And been burned? Jesus Christ, I thought fire killed vampires?”

  “You may wish to watch the road, Ms. Monroe.” He pointed ahead as a jeep honked at me for entering his lane.

  “I got it, Mr. Thorbørn.” I entered my lane again and luckily the street toward my apartment.

  “Of course,” he replied.

  “We’re here.” I pulled into the underground parking garage, driving to my parking spot, and the moment I put the car in park, he was out of his seat beat and around to my side, opening my doo
r.

  “You can’t do that!”

  He called me the young one, but he was the one acting like a brand-new vampire. Grabbing my jacket and bag, I got out at a human pace and pointed to the cameras. “There are security cameras. People are watching.”

  His grey eyes followed mine to the black orbs on the garage’s ceiling corners. He frowned. “Crafty mortals, is it to expose us?”

  “No, it’s to prevent other humans from stealing or harming one another.” I closed the door behind me. I exhaled and hung my head. “Though you have just used it to expose us. Actually, just you, because I will pretend like I don’t know you.”

  His gaze shifted back to me, a frown still on his lips. “How very American of you.” Aka how rude of me.

  My nostrils flared, and his eyebrow raised, something I noticed he did when he was amused. The frown disappeared.

  “Do not fret much, Ms. Monroe humans have made a habit of excusing away things they cannot understand. They will simply think something was wrong with their machine. And if it were witches, well they would not be surprised.”

  “And if it doesn’t work out so perfectly?”

  “We kill them,” he said, nonchalantly looking over the garage. “Are all the vehicles yours?”

  I thought about telling him the truth, but since he was such a pain, I decided to have a little fun. “Yes, of course,” I said with an uppity air, lifting my head a bit. “I’m a wealthy and important person among humans. Someone would even say I’m like their queen.”

  His eyes widened, and he took a step back and bowed. “Forgive me, your majesty—”

  “Stop that!” I quickly pushed him up to stand straighter as another car entered the garage.

  “Did you give that human permission to drive one your vehicles? Or has he stolen it, which is why there are people watching, your majesty?” he questioned, already moving to where the car was going to park, and I had to hold on to him for dear life, gazing up at his face.

  “I was kidding. It was a joke. I’m not the queen of anything. I’m an art conservator and restorationist at The National Gallery of Art.”

  “Ahhh…so you were lying to me.” The corner of his lips tugging up into a smile, and there was a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Ms. Monroe, I may not remember the last century, but I was not born so brief ago that you could fool me.”

  I tried to let go of his hand, but he held me closer to him again, his arm snaking around my waist. “In this century, women do not take kindly to men touching them without their permission.”

  “You grabbed me first if I recall.”

  “I let go.”

  “It seems unfair that you are able to grab me at your leisure, while I am prohibited from doing the same,” he replied, releasing me.

  Again, I stepped back and took a deep breath I didn’t need just so I could explain. But before I could even get out the words, a woman walked by, talking loudly on her phone. She looked us over, mildly interested as if we were beneath her, our dingy, dirt-covered clothes making her powerwalk in her Channel boots.

  “I swear, I need to move. They let just anyone in here now,” she whispered under her breath, wrapping her unnecessarily gloved hands around herself, speaking into the earpiece of her phone.

  “Let’s talk inside,” I said to Theseus, cracking my jaw to the side before walking to the elevators behind the woman on her phone.

  This same woman had closed the elevator in my face before, and I was sure she had left a note on my car when I had first moved in. When I stepped closer, she clenched her Gucci purse to her side and muttered goodbye on the phone, hanging up when the doors opened.

  “Have you lived here long?” she asked, not to me, but to Theseus behind me as I stepped onto the elevator.

  Theseus glanced down at the woman, and for once, his face was solemn. But even more than that, he was cold. His eyes narrowed as he looked down at her with indifference. “I do not see why that is any of your concern.”

  “Huh…” she scoffed in shock at how he’d spoken to her but swooned at his accent, too.

  Trying not to grin, I pressed the button for my apartment on the eighth floor, and she pressed the button for the seventh. None of us spoke, but as we watched the elevator pass each level, the soft music played from the speaker, in which I noticed Theseus had taken an interest. It was only when the other woman had gotten to her floor and stepped off that she turned to say something.

  However, I spoke up first. “Sorry about that, we have nosy neighbors here. It wouldn’t be so bad if they weren’t such snobs.” I gave her my best smile before pressing the elevator doors closed.

  The look on her face was hilarious, and I wished I could tell her I knew she was the one behind the note, but I had a feeling I’d run into stuck-up Suzy again and let it go.

  “She has unsettled you before?” Theseus questioned as we rode up another level.

  “No,” I lied, stepping out onto the grey-blue carpeted hallway. My door was the last, taking up the corner of the building. When we walked up, he peeked down at my rather girly, flower-covered welcome mat, the only one in the hallway. But I didn’t say anything, not because I didn’t know what to say, but because I remembered the condition of my place.

  “Are you not going to enter?” he questioned.

  “It’s just a bit of a mess,” I muttered, pushing open the door, and it was just as I remembered.

  My wooden floors were covered in text and notebooks. Tacked onto my emerald-colored walls were unfinished sketches and plans I had intended to get one day, as well as a few unfinished quotes I had been painting on to the walls from my favorite books. There was minimal furniture outside of a dark-pink velvet couch, some throw pillows, and a fake white-marble coffee table that sat on top of a Turkish rug. With unnatural speed, I ran toward my bedroom door and threw my coat as well as my bag inside before closing the door and looking at him.

  “Thank you for inviting me into your home; it is lovely,” he said with a trained politeness that felt very…un-American.

  “It’s messy but thank you.” I nodded. “I don’t have a lot of visitors. In fact, I rarely have visitors.”

  “Why is that?” he questioned, looking to read one of the quotes on the wall closest to him.

  “Because…” I drew out, stepping in front of him. “I simply don’t, and this isn’t about me; this is about you. The sooner you remember what happened to you, the sooner you can get out of my hair, remember?”

  He bent down and picked up one of my art history books, flipping through it and not paying attention to me. He didn’t reply, so once again, I stepped into his path. Placing my hand on the book, he glanced up at me.

  “When I say I don’t have a lot of guests,” I whispered sternly, “I mean, I purposefully don’t invite people into my home. But I invited you because you seemed lost and you’re also the oldest vampire I’ve ever met. I don’t mean to be rude, but…”

  “You wish to ask me a great deal of questions,” he finished, and I nodded. “You have not been able to speak to other vampires?”

  “The only other vampire I know is Mrs. Ming. She is an old vampire, like physically old, who works at a dry cleaner about ten minutes up the street. She’s not very welcoming. She prefers to be left alone. But she’s helped me once or twice. Other than that, you are the only vampire I’ve been able to speak with, which is why I’m trying to be nice by allowing you into my home.”

  “It’s not because I saved you into beginning a mating ritual with me?” He grinned.

  “Tricked me,” I glared. “And I have no idea why you’d do that. Sure, I didn’t want to help you in the beginning, but after you saved me, I would have been indebted to you anyway and would have helped.”

  He snickered, rising back up to full height. “So, your first question is why I chose you as my mate?”

  “Sure, we can sta
rt from there.” I rose back up, too.

  “I am not sure you are ready for the answer, as you know nothing of our ways.” He glanced toward the bathroom, sniffing. “May I bathe? I do not wish to track any more dirt into your home.”

  It was only then that I noticed, he had barely moved and was covered in dirt. Pressing my lips closed, I moved toward my bathroom, opening the door.

  “Turn the knob towards the H for hot—”

  “There were showers in 1920.” Theseus tried not to laugh at me.

  “Never mind then,” I said, tossing one of my clean towels at him and closing the door behind me. “Try not to break the handles off anything, please.”

  I waited outside the door, not sure he could actually figure it out, no matter how great the showers were a hundred years ago. But sure enough, I heard his clothes drop to the floor before he stepped inside the glass. It took only a second for the shower to come on and from the slight hum in the pipes, I knew he’d turned on the hot water full blast.

  “You do not have to wait at the door. It is your bathroom; you may enter.” His voice startled me a bit, and I glanced over my shoulder.

  “I’ll go see if I have any clean clothes you can wear.” I moved toward my bedroom.

  There wouldn’t be. The only male clothes I had were a box of my father’s old things, which I kept in the back of my closet. After he’d died, I’d just put whatever I could in there and left. I wasn’t even sure what was in there anymore. He didn’t have much by the end of his life.

  Dropping to my knees, I opened the first box but only found a few Peace Corps notes and flyers. The second was more of the same. It was only the last one that contained a few clothes: a short-sleeved shirt and some Red Cross sweatpants. I sniffed both, the smell of dust and a faint scent of downy fabric softener were the only scents I could smell. It hadn’t been that long, but my father’s scent was completely gone. Taking them both, I stepped back into the living room just as he stepped out of the bathroom with my burgundy towel around his waist. Water slid down his taut abs. His black hair was wavy and wet and clung to the top of his head.