Free Golden Anidae (A Blushing Death Novel) by Suzanne M. Sabol

o’clock shadow was rugged and graying in spots. The vampire had deep hazel-green eyes with long dark lashes against his pale skin.
    “Didn’t your mama ever tell you it’s rude to wear your hat in front of a lady?” I asked with more attitude than was probably wise without a weapon. I finally managed to unclasp my fingers from the death grip I had on the mug, leaving it sitting on the table still in one piece. I refused to let him see how terrified I was. I’d had plenty of practice hiding my fear and now I was going to prove that not only could I do it but that I was good at it.
    He nodded once and removed his hat, setting it on the seat next to him. His hair was a silky salt and pepper, making him more distinguished, but rougher around the edges.
    “Thank you.” I could at least be polite.
    “Ma’am,” he said again in the same expressionless tone as he’d greeted me.
    I waited for him to say something . . . anything. After several moments of the two of us staring at each other, I lost my patience.
    “I assume there’s something you wanted,” I said, crossing my legs under the table, casually sliding my hands to my lap with the butter knife clutched in my grasp. I was a sitting duck in a crappy restaurant with a fucking butter knife in my hand. Christ on crutches!
    “Yes, Ma’am,” he said with a quick nod.
    “This will go a lot faster if you contribute to the conversation,” I snapped. “Such as, my name’s Dahlia. And you are . . .?”
    “Ma’am, I’m fully aware of who you are,” he said, the hint of a growl making his voice husky and rich. The far off rumble of his growl made my stomach tighten as adrenaline pumped faster through my veins.
    “Perhaps,” I said with a tight smile that never reached my eyes. “But I don’t know who you are. Isn’t it more pleasant when everyone’s acquainted?” I added with a hint of sass.
    “Jarvis, Ma’am, at your service,” he said with a nod and the same blank stare he’d had since entering Terrible’s.
    “Well, Jarvis,” I said. “What can I do for you?” It was unnerving having a conversation with someone who didn’t react. I wasn’t a great conversationalist either and if I was responsible for carrying the whole conversation, we were in trouble.
    “Ma’am, I think it would be a fine idea if you left town,” he said as if he asked people to leave town every day. Maybe he did. Did they still do that out west?
    “Why, Jarvis.” I laughed. “Are you running me out of town?” I mocked with a teasing cock of my head.
    “Yes, Ma’am, I am.”
    “Jarvis, please stop calling me Ma’am. It makes me feel old.” I pouted.
    “If you like, Ms. Sabin,” he said. Everything was so polite and civil as he nodded again.
    That little nod was starting to piss me off and all the polite civility rankled me and I couldn’t even explain why. Evidently, he knew exactly who I was and I was starting to wonder if I was going to have to beat an answer out of him.
    “Let’s get down to brass tax, Jarvis. Why are you running me out of town?” I asked, annoyed. “I’ve been here for quite a while now.” Long enough to do real damage but I’d been as quiet as a church mouse. Why now?
    “You’ve gone unnoticed,” he said.
    “And you’re suggesting that I’ve been noticed?”
    “Uhmm,” he grunted.
    Damn it, this is infuriating.
    I took a deep breath and narrowed my eyes on him. “And if I don’t leave?”
    “My Mistress will find out,” he stated, as if that was the last thing he wanted.
    “Marabelle?” I asked. He wasn’t the only one with information.
    “Uhmm,” he answered again.
    This was becoming a tedious conversation and he didn’t seem a bit fazed.
    “We don’t want that now do we?” I asked. I really just wanted him to answer, to say something other than a grunt, damn it. His respectful cowboy routine grated on my nerves and if he didn’t talk to me I just knew I was going to punch him, butter knife or no.
    “No, Ms.