Deamhan Read Online Free Page B

women like you shouldn’t drink whiskey.”
    What a line. His respectful approach did nothing to impress Veronica. The Deamhan were naturally devious.
    Veronica remained quiet. The stranger smiled and reached for the glass, grasping it from the rim and placing it front of him.
    “I’m trying to start a conversation,” he prompted.
    From the corner of her eye, Veronica saw him examine her. His eyes roved her short, formal straight brunette hair, her face, and finally her hands. Even over the din of music, she could hear him inhale her virginal scent. She tried hard to block her thoughts from him, but the tingle told her she was failing.
    “You should know it turns me on when you do that,” he said.
    She glanced at him, making eye contact for a second and then quickly looked away. He mumbled something, but his voice was too low for her to hear over the blaring speakers.
    Veronica’s thoughts caught his attention again, and he leaned back on the stool, studying her.
    Veronica understood now how a woman could fall for a man like that. Most of the men in Dark Sepulcher were attractive, but this man was hot. She stole a covert glance from under her eyelashes. Tall, medium build, long, glossy hair—stop it. Stay off that bandwagon.
    His full lips broke into a smile. “Sorry I intruded on your thoughts. But I gotta admit, I like what I see in there.”
    Veronica felt heat rise in her chest, neck and face. Busted. He offered his hand, another trick she wouldn’t fall for.
    “I’m Remy and you are?”
    Remy. The name sounded too familiar. Veronica recalled the name listed somewhere on the documents she’d stolen from The Brotherhood. His name was just one of the many that stuck out to her but at the moment she couldn’t remember why.
    She fixed her thoughts on her napkin, staring at the condensation ring left by the wet glass. Still her mind wouldn’t quiet. What Deamhan type is he? Until she knew which, she couldn’t be sure of his level of threat. She couldn’t get too close.
    Despite herself, she stole a quick look in his direction.
    He flashed a ready smile.
    Teeth aren’t sharp and pointy. He’s not a Ramanga. She stared again at her drink, wiping the droplets of water from the side of her glass.
    “Am I scaring you?” Remy’s voice interrupted Veronica’s thoughts. She shook her head and remained silent.
    “Do you talk?”
    “Not to strangers.” She immediately regretted her gutsy remark, knowing it would intrigue him further.
    “Maybe you should.” He traced the rim of the glass with a slender, pale finger. “You’re new here.”
    Veronica wanted to check him out but knew she should avoid his eye. She looked over her shoulder and then at the ceiling. She glanced at the sticky floor and studied the woodwork on the bar.
    “Nervous?”
    He’d read her like an open book. She felt a tiny tingle as he tried again to read her thoughts.
    “Your thoughts. They come to me kinda like a movie: sometimes clear, other times fuzzy.” He chuckled. “Right now, they’re crystal. Do you really find the bar’s wood grain that intriguing?”
    Veronica couldn’t help but grin.
    “Do you smell that?” His voice dropped to a loud whisper. “I smell a vampire.”
    Remy’s eyes fixated over Veronica’s shoulder.
    The dark woman from the bathroom sashayed over and leaned against the bar on the other side of Veronica.
    Veronica hardly recognized her. She now wore the professional attire of a business woman: grayish slacks, a red blouse, and a gray suit jacket. She’d styled her hair into a chic ponytail and glossed her lips in red.
    Remy and the woman locked eyes.
    Veronica felt a fierce, electrical tension emanating from the two, and glanced back and forth between them. The woman smirked, and Remy smiled nonchalantly.
    “She’s mine, Remy,” she said. “He said I can have her.”
    Remy revealed his even, pearly teeth, his finger still tracing the rim of the glass. “Already tired of the other one?” he