Page 12 of The Curse of Eternity (Descendants of Helsing #1)

Better Not Touch

Warmth hit my already flushed face as I entered the pub, and glanced over my shoulder at Drake.

He’d held the door open for me, and his brief smirk when our gazes met only left me more confused.

He sure did seem self-assured , but how was a bar full of people going to prove his innocence?

Which was a bit of an understatement because this place was packed .

Drake walked in, hot on my heels, and the draft from outside disappeared when the door swung shut. Goosebumps crept up my arms while his raven-dark eyes stared into mine for one long moment. Before I had a chance to voice my disbelief at his chosen setting for our meet-up, a deep voice called out.

“Finally made it, Drake!” Hurriedly wiping down the bartop, a middle-aged man with shoulder-length salt-and-pepper hair accompanying a matching beard nodded at us. “Brought a friend?”

“Dire enemy, more like,” Drake replied, his smile wide and oddly inviting.

It took effort not to gape at how different his attitude was tonight compared to when we first met.

Not a shred of animosity or annoyance lingered on Drake’s face—even when he looked at me.

“Come along, I assure the patrons here do not bite.” Cramped as we were, side by side in the entryway, his leather jacket’s sleeve brushed my arm when he directed me to go ahead.

“Yeah, yeah,” I mumbled, feeling like a fish out of water while I waded past tall tables and the people clustered around them.

Everyone held either a glass or snack food in hand—mostly some variety of a chip, fry, or peanut.

My stomach rumbled when I passed a full plate of nachos being set down between a group watching some sport on one of the TVs.

Thankfully, there was too much noise all around for my gurgling belly to turn any heads.

On our way through the throng, I was forced to stop several times because someone had stolen Drake’s attention.

He’d turn to offer them a polite greeting or question about their daily lives while I kept a few steps between us, so that nobody thought we were together.

If I had to be introduced to anyone else as a ‘dire enemy,’ I was going to unsheath my machete.

Still, Drake’s gaze always reconnected with mine after a few exchanges of conversation.

With a parting word, he’d leave one person only to be caught by another a short distance later.

Now I understood why he kept ushering us further back, deeper into the pub and away from the hustle and bustle.

Already, sweat beaded my neck and chest from the oppressive body heat accompanying the delicious smells wafting from a kitchen in the back.

I shrugged off my jackets as we reached a lone table in the far corner.

It was quiet compared to the rest of the place.

Maybe because it was the designated ‘make out zone,’ judging by the couples nearby.

A sign for the toilets was pictured with little stick figures, and a couple giggled before they went inside, hurriedly checking over their shoulder like they thought they were being sneaky.

Nose wrinkled, I dropped my folded jackets down on one of the high chairs before scooting up onto its neighbor.

A weird pang pulled at my heart, being surrounded by so many lovey-dovey, drunken pairs.

Sure, none of them were bound to last unless they came here together in the first place, but that didn’t magically erase the lonely ache in my guts.

On the other side of the table, Drake made no move to sit down, instead leaning his forearms on the surface heavily stained by glass rings. A laminated paper was pushed toward me, and I raised my eyebrows at it. When he didn’t say anything, I used my index finger to swipe the menu closer.

“You seem popular,” I said, watching him closely while my elbow rested over the menu. Drake shrugged, seeming unbothered while scanning the room like he was checking for the exits. Damn it , I should’ve been the one doing that.

“They are people I see here every week. Some are regulars and come each night.” His dark eyes refocused on me, and I chewed the inside of my cheek. Somehow, that one sentence felt loaded.

Since I figured I was pretty safe—my back to the wall and plenty of witnesses around—I started to scrutinize the people Drake had spoken with.

None of them had any visible marks, not on their necks, wrists, elbows, or anywhere else I could see.

There were more discreet ways for vampires to feed, but most didn’t bother—and those arteries rarely left the bitten alive.

So this was his ‘proof’ about not hurting anyone.

If he could have acquaintances—or friends, if he saw them every day, like he claimed—then clearly he wasn’t a threat.

At least, that seemed to be where he was going with this.

Frowning, I stared down at my hands, loosely clasped together, and moved them to my lap while I mulled it over.

“What would you like to drink?”

Thoroughly gripped by my thoughts, I had to look up to be sure I’d heard right. Except his accent was so distinct that I couldn’t have made it up. Especially when his dark eyes bore into mine, questioning.

“Just water,” I said, straightening up in my seat, and Drake nodded once, glancing at the menu.

“And for your meal?” His eyebrows rose, and I scoffed.

“I can’t afford anything here.” Not only because my wallet was in the car, but for the simple fact that my bank account was running dry. There was a reason I liked checking out library books. Maybe it was time to act as receptionist for the Harker Woodworking store again…

“I would be remiss to force a woman to pay her own way.” Drake chuckled, like the idea of me buying my own dinner was silly. My teeth clenched, and I bristled.

“Showing off how many people you can stand to get to know, and offering to buy me dinner doesn’t change anything.

” I met his stare without blinking. The implication of his words appeared to finally dawn on him since Drake’s smile vanished.

Quickly replaced by innocent dismay, the same expression he wore that first night we met.

Maybe I wasn’t the only one feeling the pressure of tonight’s outcome.

“To ‘show off’ was never my intention,” he said, diminished and serious.

“Then how does this prove anything?” I demanded, my palm flat on the menu, but I couldn’t maintain my harshness when his attitude so quickly shifted to being apologetic. My shoulders lowered a fraction while Drake seemed to consider my question.

“It does not… I simply did not wish for you to be hungry.” His gaze flickered to my stomach before glancing away, like he hadn’t meant to look. Just then, my gut decided to betray me with another long rumble. Face burning, I covered my abdomen.

“Oh…” All of the fight went out of me, and I looked down at the menu to hide whatever feelings crossed my face. “I guess I’ll take the Macho Nachos, then—thank you.” Damn my manners.

“I will be but a moment,” Drake said quietly, and then moved away without a sound.

I awkwardly shifted in my seat while watching him head to the bar to place the order. Again, he stopped several times when a person here or there pulled him aside to chat. Something about his posture, his expression, troubled me. The more I watched, the better I understood why.

Even when his conversation partner laughed, guffawing at whatever joke or tale either they or Drake told, the same couldn’t be said of him.

His smile was always polite, content to be there, but missing the general ease everyone else possessed.

Maybe because they were inebriated, and vampires couldn’t get drunk—as far as I knew, their bodies healed too quickly to stay intoxicated.

Several minutes later, which felt like none at all, he returned carrying a glass of water and basket of nachos in one hand.

In his other rested a glass of red wine, reminding me of the very thing he’d offered me that night in his house.

He set the food and beverage before me, and I quickly sipped at the water to keep from scarfing down the chips on sight.

Having watched him the entire time, I didn’t have to worry about my drink being poisoned. While I picked up a chip, and crunched through several more after that, Drake delicately sipped his wine. Almost like he’d bought it for the sake of it, instead of actual want.

Once I swallowed, I asked, “How come you know everyone here?”

“I come here very frequently,” he admitted, and his slight smirk implied it was both an embarrassing secret and a casual fact. “On my way home most nights, I pass down Richmond Drive. Hence our meeting.”

“Does the pub usually stay open past midnight?” I asked, trying for sleuth, but Drake smiled. Clearly, he saw right through my attempt to poke holes in his story.

“No, I had lingered for longer than usual to enjoy a smoke or twelve with a few regulars.”

“You are a smoker. I knew it,” I said, proud that I’d at least inferred something correct about him. Although his car’s overflowing ashtray was a dead giveaway.

“Indeed,” he remarked, almost holding back another smile before his expression turned somber.

“I overheard the commotion in the warehouse, and smelled the decay of—” He glanced over the room, not to be overheard, and leaned closer an inch.

“My kind . You may ask anyone here tonight to corroborate. Many can testify to my whereabouts prior to our original meeting. I never had any association with that ‘colony.’”

“I believe you,” I admitted, surprising myself just as much as him given the way his mouth hung open a moment longer. As his lips pressed together, his throat bobbed on a swallow. Shit , should I have said that? Even if it was the truth…

“Thank you,” he said, his voice full of unexpected gratitude.

“Don’t mention it,” I mumbled, and took a swig of my water to avoid saying anything else. Drake’s gaze trailed my movement, focusing on my half-empty glass.