Robert Montgomery POV:
I'm feeling more energetic by the next morning, most of the wolfsbane having left my system. Since I have quite a lot of work to catch up on, I head into the office early. It's close to six in the morning as I pull the car into the vacant parking lot. The streets are still empty, so when I hear the soft groan, I look over my shoulder and see a familiar-looking woman carrying a trash bin out of the coffee shop across the road.
I find myself staring at the wild red curls that frame a soft face with such green eyes unlike anything I've ever seen before. Her lips are pouty and distracting.
I remember staring at them the other day when she served me coffee.
My hand is still on the roof of the car.
Portland isn't a small city by any means, so I wasn't very surprised to catch a vampire's scent in the café on most days. However, I never realized the reason for that constant, particular smell was because one of their employees was a vampire. Not till I came face to face with a nervous redhead with deep green eyes that shone with specks of gold when the light hit them.
I slowly closed the door, recalling the way she cut her hand on the knife she had been trying to hide from me.
That wound—did it heal?
I find my feet moving toward the coffee shop before I can stop myself. I can see her wiping down the counter now, having already gone back inside while I was staring at her, deep in thought. The bell attached to the glass door jingles when I open it, and she looks up. I see the alarm in her eyes, followed by a flash of what can only be called fear.
"I—" Her eyes dart toward the back room, and her voice is tense. "Can I help you?"
The mouthwatering aroma of fresh bread fills the entire shop. When I step toward the counter, the female vampire immediately moves backward, as if terrified of me.
"Do you need something?"
I blink slowly. "Yeah. Coffee, please."
Relief is stark on her face. "Of course, yeah. Right away."
Her hands are shaking as she reaches for a to-go cup, and my eyes fall on the bandage around her palm. "Your cut hasn't healed yet?"
She looks like a little bunny, frozen in place as if any attempt to move on her part would force her to answer my question. She's amusing, if anything. However, my good humor disappears when it hits me that a vampire who should have incredible healing powers has not recovered from what should have been a simple cut. It's been close to two weeks now. Even humans heal faster than this.
My eyes automatically move to her left eye as I recall Harry's words.
"You're wearing makeup," I murmur. And a lot of it.
It doesn't hide the light swelling around her left eye, though.
Taking another step forward, I discreetly sniff her, and my eyes sharpen.
It's that same scent, the icy one with the odd hint of sweetness. Vampires all carry that same icy scent, which is what makes it so hard to distinguish them by scent alone. But this one, she has a trace of sweetness under that icy scent of hers. The realization follows almost instantly: she is the vampire who saved me!
Is that why she looks so scared of me right now?
"You—"
"Charlotte, can you lend me a hand in—"
A plump older woman walks out of the kitchen, her head wrapped in a hairnet, her face red and flushed.
"Oh!" She was surprised to see me. It doesn't escape my notice the way her eyes linger on my scarred face. I'm used to it, so it doesn't bother me.
Charlotte.
It's an old-fashioned name, but it suits her well.
But why is a vampire working in a café? They all work in lofty positions in businesses owned and run by their respective clans. Status and power are everything to them. I've never met one who works in what their kind would consider a menial job.
When I saw her the other day, I was curious and wary, and I decided to keep my eye on her in case she had been sent here as a spy. I even went so far as to do a background check on her. Her name is Charlotte Beaumont. I couldn't find any vampire families with that surname on this side of the world. She's an enigma, but ever since our first meeting two weeks ago, she seems more frightened of me than suspicious. If a spy had been planted across the road from my office, they would be using something like the bracelet I designed a couple of years ago. It's a scent blocker, and while it's wildly expensive, I'm sure a spy would be using it.
Charlotte jumps at the chance to escape and quickly puts down the cup. "Why don't you help this customer? I'll go and—"
"No, no," the woman interrupts, shaking her head. "You finish up here. I'll just put in the next batch of scones."
She turns around and goes back into the kitchen. Despite the situation, my lips twitched at the dismay on Charlotte's face. She really doesn't want to deal with me.
"What kind of coffee do you want?" she finally turns to me and asks, weakly.
"Cappuccino." I put my hands in my pockets. "What happened to your eye?"
Her body tenses, and her voice is uneasy. "Walked into a door."
"You seem to be very accident-prone."
To my surprise and amusement, she shoots me a dark look before turning around and preparing my drink.
As she puts in the coffee grounds, I ask lightly, "We met a few days ago, didn't we?"
She's quiet, and then she responds, "You came in to get some coffee."
"I meant at night."
"No, we didn't." Her voice is a little calmer than before. It's as if having her back to me is giving her the time to compose herself. "Do you want one espresso shot or two?"
"One," I murmur, my eyes fixed on her slender back. She's got a full figure, slim but curvy, a generous chest, and a perfectly shaped behind. It feels like I'm leering at her; ashamed, I focus my gaze on the back of her neck. Normally, if I'm in proximity to a vampire, my wolf is uneasy, sensing the threat, but Charlotte doesn't incite the same reaction.
My wolf is watchful and curious—and a little playful, for some reason.
She doesn't feel like a threat to it.
However, if I let my wolf decide everything for me, what kind of Alpha would I be? I'll have to keep an eye on her. Even if the scent is familiar, and she seems to have a bruise on her eye, I still need to be sure she's the one who rescued me. But what does it mean if it was her? Why would she save my life? Was it to gain my trust?
If that were the case, she wouldn't be pretending not to know me right now.
"Which clan are you from?" I ask abruptly.
This time, I saw a response in the way her shoulders turned stiff. She takes a good minute to reply, and there is no small amount of hostility in her voice when she does.
"How is that your business?"
"You're in my territory, little vampire," I say, studying her. "That makes it my business."
The look of annoyance she shoots at me makes me wonder if she really is all that scared of me. But I'm not wrong. Portland, like every other city out there, is divided into territories that are run by different wolf packs and vampire clans. The restrictions are limited to living accommodations and jobs. Those who want to work in other territories have to request permission. Since most of the wolf packs in Portland are allied, they don't make a huge deal over wolves from other territories working in theirs. But vampires are different. At first, they used to be allowed special permits to carry out business in our territories, but now, slowly but steadily, we are pushing them out.
Their own territory is small, and while they are able to carry out profitable ventures, losing out on the gains from the other territories is too massive a blow.
It was easy to weed the vampires out of my territory because all that entailed was shutting down their businesses and canceling their leases on the buildings their businesses were being run out of. However, I never expected them to work in places like coffee shops, which is why I'm suspicious of Charlotte's intentions.
"You can't stop me from working here." She turns to look at me, putting my coffee down on the counter in front of me. "I don't work for you. This is a human-owned establishment."
"Sure." I give her a small smile. "But the rules are clear. Vampires are not allowed to do business in my territory."
Her eyes sharpened. "But I'm not doing business in your territory, am I? I'm working a minimum wage job to support myself. Is that a crime? Did you come here just to harass me?"
I raised a surprised brow. It turns out the meek little girl has some claws that she was hiding.
"Did your clan not inform you that vampires are no longer allowed to conduct business in my territory?" I ask coolly.
"No, they didn't," Charlotte replies, her voice tight. Because I don't have a clan. And I am just working in a café. I'm not running a business. I'm not getting any profits. So, why are you bothering me again?"
Her words took me by surprise. "What do you mean, you don't have a clan?"
"I was exiled," she tells me. "Not that it's any of your business."
"From which clan?"
"Also none of your business. Now, do you want your coffee or not? It's seven ninety-five."
She holds out her hand expectantly, and my eyes narrow. "The board behind you says three twenty."
"The rest is for ruining my morning," she says bluntly.
I find myself coughing up the cash, unable to deny her that. "This is extortion."
She just shrugs.
As I walk out with my coffee, knowing she's not going to answer any of my questions this easily, my lips twitch again.
She's cute.
And possibly dangerous.
I'll have to dig deeper into Charlotte.
If she has any secrets, I'll find them.