Robert Montgomery POV:
Whatever little I managed to dig up on Charlotte Beaumont, I was able to verify. She did go to a local high school in Portland, but she enrolled when she was fifteen. She also never applied for college even though she had remarkable grades. Instead, she did odd jobs. It was almost as if she had no money and was trying to earn a living.
Very odd for a vampire. More so for a fifteen-year-old one.
Vampire clans take pride in their children. I found it puzzling that one of them had been struggling at such a young age and no one seemed to have intervened. I followed her trail all the way back to a women's shelter. I couldn't get a hold of the person who ran it during that time, but I did get confirmation from their records that Charlotte lived with them for a while. The person couldn't find much information on her, but she remembered Charlotte's red hair and green eyes.
She has worked at human-owned establishments since as far back as I can trace her. I even got a hold of her finances. She has some decent savings but nothing to indicate that she's a spy of any sort. Everything I've uncovered about her shows that she has been living like a human among humans.
But why?
Why is a vampire living like that?
My family didn't want me, okay? I'm a defective vampire!
It makes me feel foolish that I wasn't able to put two and two together. I knew that vampires take pride in strength. They don't tolerate the weak, even in their own ranks. But I'd never heard of a clan exiling a child, because that is what Charlotte was when she arrived at the shelter.
I didn't realize a lot of things.
The fact that I didn't find her in any of the registries meant that her name had been removed. Only a legal guardian can do that.
She hadn't known.
The shocked look in her eyes when she came to that conclusion made me feel like a monster. She had tears in those pretty eyes, a devastation that I put there. It made my wolf miserable.
It made me feel regretful about not showing tact.
I knew she wasn't a threat when I walked into the coffee shop tonight. I knew her background to some extent; I simply wanted to know the name of her clan. It hadn't occurred to me that they had thrown her out, that she belonged nowhere.
I pull my car to the side of the road and get out.
It's late, but I'm not ready to sleep yet. Aside from the pretty vampire whose heart I pretty much broke today, I've got other things bothering me, as well. To be more precise, the fact that nobody seems to remember where Harry came to pick me up and where the clean-up crew came to install the new door is making me nervous. I'm beginning to lean more and more toward the idea of a witch or warlock in Portland.
Witches and warlocks both practice magic, but witches do so using nature, while warlocks supposedly draw power from something much more sinister. Both were driven out centuries ago, way before my time, and ever since the act of registering every supernatural being came into play, the ones who had stayed behind or returned at some point found themselves targeted by overly ambitious vampires or shifters. They're a minority even in other parts of the world.
I closed the car door and looked around. I parked around the corner from where I was attacked. I still don't remember much of anything from that night, but it would make sense if I made my way down the street closest to me. The only way to find out is to check out the area, which is a mixture of houses and shops.
As I walked toward that street, I saw a tabby cat strolling toward me. It has a collar around its neck and only one functioning eye.
As it approaches me, I stop. "Well, hello."
It winds between my legs, purring.
"Aren't you friendly?" I pick it up, and it settles in my arms without a hint of protest. "Where's your owner?"
The cat lets out a meow and happily rubs against my neck.
I looked in the direction of the street I was heading toward and decided to take my little companion with me. It most likely escaped from somewhere over there. As I began to walk, I heard someone crying out.
"Mano!"
The voice is very familiar. We're on a long, winding street, with woods on one side and shops and houses on the other.
"Mano, come back!"
I can feel the cat growing restless in my arms as we get closer to the voice.
"You must be Mano, then," I murmur, looking down at it. "Bad kitty. You upset your owner."
"Mano!"
The broken-heartedness of that cry makes my wolf howl. Unwittingly, I find myself moving faster, the desperate nature of the call making my heart tighten. As the road curves, I see a woman standing in the middle of the street, wearing pajamas only a child would willingly wear, her red hair tied in a bun that has no chance against those wild, loose curls of hers.
Charlotte.
No wonder that voice was familiar.
No wonder my wolf reacted. It always does to her.
She's crying. I can smell the salt of her tears all the way from here.
For a moment, I stand there and watch her, even as the cat wriggles in my arms.
Her whole body is shaking as she sobs out the cat's name again and again.
I don't like it.
I don't like the sound of those broken sobs.
"Charlotte."
She turns around, and those pretty green eyes are red-rimmed, devastation evident in them. Her face is wet with tears, and I hold out the cat who is desperately meowing now. "I found your cat on the main street."
"Mano," she mumbles before darting toward me and snatching the one-eyed tabby from my hands. "I thought I'd lost you!"
The cat doesn't shy away from her hold, and I watch Charlotte's fingers dig into its fur. She's trying to control her tears, and it's hard to resist the urge to comfort her.
I give her a couple of minutes and study her in the meantime. There's nothing cold or manipulative about this woman. She wears her heart on her sleeve. The way she's bawling over her missing cat affects me. I know those are relieved tears, but there is something incredibly innocent about Charlotte that tugs at my heartstrings.
When she looks up, she wipes her eyes with one hand. "Thank you for finding her and bringing her back."
"Of course." I smiled at her warmly. My eyes are drawn to her clothes once again. They're childishly endearing, and I grin. "I like the pajamas."
She looks down, and her cheeks flush instantly. Seeing the color spread across her pale skin makes me want to tease her more. From our first meeting, I have found her beautiful. The fact that she's one of those bloodsuckers hasn't done anything to diminish that attraction. Even when I grew suspicious of her, I couldn't deny how her presence made me want to admire her beauty. And now, as she looks at me, sniffling, the red coloring her cheeks in embarrassment and mortification, I find my gaze drawn to those pouty lips. There is nothing elegant or sophisticated about her at this moment, and yet all I can think about is how pretty she looks.
"I—I didn't think I'd run into anybody." She holds the cat closer to her chest. "Especially not you."
"You don't live here." I looked around, my hunch confirmed now.
She gives me a cautious look. "I could."
"I already know your address, little vampire."
When she stiffens, I raise a brow. "Don't you remember I did a background search on you?"
Her shoulders fall in defeat. "Look, I'm going to find another job, okay? I'll be out of your hair soon."
It would be ideal if she did. Just because it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, doesn't always mean it is a duck. Charlotte might not seem to be a threat, but if she left, even the tiniest chance of it would disappear.
"You don't have to leave your job." I tuck my hands in my pockets, knowing I shouldn't be saying this. "You can work in my territory and live here. It's fine."
She eyes me. "Can I get that in writing?"
A bark of laughter leaves my mouth. "Sure."
Her nod is jerky, but I can see the relief in her eyes. "I—Thanks. For finding Mano. I don't know how to repay you."
"How about buying me dinner?"
Her lips part, and she struggles to say something before glancing to the side at the animal shelter. "I'm on duty tonight." I can't leave."
"Then we can order in."
She can't seem to think up a reasonable excuse to say no and finally says, "I guess. Sure."
She really doesn't want me around, and the more she resists, the more I want to invade her space. I follow her inside. Just standing in the small lobby, I can tell that this is an expensive place. Odd for a shelter.
"I have to bring the dog in. Just wait here. Can you hold Mano? Make sure she doesn't follow me."
She dumps the cat in my arms before hurrying to the back of the building. I hear a door open and then a whine. Moments later, the door closes, and there's the rattle of a cage door. Charlotte's sweet voice is murmuring apologies to the pup. I smell the distinct scent of what can only be dog treats.
When she returns, she immediately takes Mano from my arms. "C'mere, baby."
Her voice is a soft croon. I blinked, the gentle sound making my heart skip a beat. "You really love her."
For a brief moment, I find myself envious of the cat who is at the receiving end of such fierce adoration.
"She's my whole world," Charlotte admits, not even looking at me. The cat clearly enjoys the attention, purring loudly.
I study the two of them, and then I ask, "Why didn't you tell me you were the one who saved me the other night?"
Charlotte freezes for a moment and then opens her mouth. "I don't know what—"
"Don't bother lying to me," I cut her off bluntly. "It was you, alright." Why did you do it? You've already met me. You must have known what I was. Why help me?"
She shrugs, looking uncomfortable, shifting her gaze away from me and toward the animal in her arms. "Why do you care? It's already over and done with, and I really don't like rehashing things."
"Indulge me," I insist, smiling at her.
She takes a few minutes to reply, her fingers moving through Mano's fur. Interesting tactic.
Avoidance.
"Charlotte."
"You were going to die if I didn't intervene," she bursts out, her expression uneasy. "I didn't think you deserved to die."
"Why?"
"I don't know. I could help, so I did."
She has a soft heart. This is merely further evidence.
"Why not just tell me?"
She shrugs. "I didn't want to be dragged into anything. Besides, it's not as if you would have believed me. A vampire saving a wolf shifter. Even the idea sounds ridiculous."
Her reasoning takes me aback, and she gives me a hard look. "I live among humans, like a human, Mr. Montgomery—"
"Robert, please," I say quickly. "Call me Robert."
"Fine, but the thing is, I don't belong anywhere. I have no choice but to live among humans. I don't want to get dragged into this war between vampires and shifters. I have no role in anything. I just wait for people, sell them coffee, and then I come and volunteer here. I'm going to become a vet one day. See, I have very human aspirations. I'm not a threat to the wolves or the vampires. I just want to be left alone."
Her voice is matter-of-fact, but I can hear the underlying meaning behind her words.
I don't belong anywhere.
Not even among humans, I muse.
What a lonely existence.
I smiled at her warmly. "Thank you. For helping me that night."
She flushes and shrugs once again. "Sure. It was no big deal."
The way her eye is still slightly bruised tells me she suffered greatly from doing it. Especially when she clearly does not have the same fast healing of her kind.
The smart thing would be to close this chapter here and walk away.
Since she doesn't want to get involved with the supernatural world, it would be best for me to retreat and leave her to the life she's building for herself. But my wolf doesn't want to leave. And neither do I.
I still want to ask her about her clan, but the topic seems to be a sensitive one for her.
"So, what about dinner?"