CHAPTER 2
THE GUY WAITING FOR ME IN CULEBRA’S BACK room looks to be about thirty. He’s lying naked on the bed, his clothes folded neatly on a bedside chair. He has a sheet thrown over the lower part of his body. He’s lean, muscular, with the arrogant good looks of a guy used to having his way with women.
I hate that type.
He smiles when he sees me, a smile of relief and anticipation. I’m sure the relief is because I’m female (a host never knows) and the anticipation that because I’m female, sex wil be a part of the deal.
I pul a wad of cash out of my purse and lay it on top of his clothes. “I just want the blood,” I tel him. “Whatever you do while I’m feeding is up to you, but I don’t intend to participate.”
“Are you sure?” The guy pushes the sheet off his hips. He started without me.
If the size of his dick is supposed to impress me, my reaction must be a bitter disappointment. I flutter fingers in a dismissive gesture. “Yeah, I’m sure. Face the wal, please.”
“Don’t you want to know my name?”
“No.”
He grunts and rol s over. I position myself behind him, spoon style, and pul his head closer. My body vibrates from need and the heady sensation that comes from watching blood course through an artery just a kiss away. His hands are busy between his legs and he groans before I break through the skin.
Then I’m lost in my own sensations. His blood is sweet and clean, his fitness the result of good diet and exercise, not pil s or needles. Not that it would matter. Vampires are immune from human drugs and disease. Only the taste differs, like drinking vinegar or wine, and I’m pleased with this vintage. The first mouthful brings intense pleasure, my body now tingling with something other than hunger. There’s a fleeting moment when I am tempted to rol him over, to mount him, feel him inside me while I feed.
But I resist.
I’ve treated sex too cavalierly in the past. I want it to mean something from now on. Something more than just scratching a biological itch. Something like what I have with Stephen.
I already miss him.
For now, the blood has to be enough. It awakens every cel in my body. It revives and restores. My skin warms. A flush of heat floods my cheeks. My senses become needle sharp.
The feel of the host’s skin against my lips, the smel of his arousal, the quickness of his breath, I experience it al. His heartbeat. Steady, rhythmic, until he nears climax. Then his heart begins to race until it reaches a crescendo and his body tenses. He moans, grinds against me, one hand clutches the sheet, the other moves faster and with more urgency.
I keep feeding until the last shudder of release passes and he is quiet beside me. I use my tongue to seal the puncture wounds, watch as the marks fade. He does not speak or move. In a minute, his breathing becomes deep and regular, and I know.
He’s fal en asleep.
“Was it as good for you as it was for me?” I ask the snoring host.
I close the door quietly on my way out.
WHEN I JOIN CULEBRA AT THE BAR, HE LOOKS PAST
me toward the door to the back room. “Is he stil alive?”
He hands me a bottle of Dos Equis with a lime wedge propped on the rim.
I squeeze the lime down into the bottle. “Why wouldn’t he be?”
He takes another beer from a cooler under the bar and motions for me to fol ow him to a table. When we’re both seated he answers, “You looked hungry when you walked in.
How long has it been since you fed?”
I shrug. “A while.”
He watches me drink. “It’s been a while since we talked, too. Two months to be exact. I have a lot of questions.”
I figured. One of the reasons I’ve stayed away.
Culebra picks that thought out of the ether. He frowns. “I thought I was your friend.”
He shuts me out of his head. He’s angry or disappointed.
Maybe both. I can’t tel. But the result is the same. I give in with a sigh. “Sorry. You are my friend. I should have been in touch sooner. I guess I figured Frey would have fil ed you in.”
I glance around the bar. It’s almost empty this early on a Sunday morning. There are a couple of vamps sitting with two human women. The snatches of thought I catch from the vamps are that they’re wel fed and wel sexed and are looking for a way to leave graceful y without offending the female hosts. They may want a repeat performance down the line. The vibes the females give off tel me they wouldn’t object. I watch them a few moments until Culebra is back in my head.
I’m granted another reprieve when my host appears at the door. He grins at me with a look calculated to let anyone watching think I’d sucked more than his neck. I’m tempted to make a snarky remark but don’t. I simply let him swagger over to the other table. The females greet him and in another moment, al five leave with a parting wave to Culebra.
We’re now alone.
Culebra waves his bottle in the direction of the door. “I assume that look was a bit of bravado for the benefit of his friends.”
I laugh. “You’l need to change those sheets.”
The moment passes. “What did Frey tel you?”
“What you told him. The chal enge. Lance. The way you handled Chael. Sounds like you did wel for yourself.”
Did I? What I didn’t tel Frey, what I’m hiding from Culebra now, is that nothing was settled. Not real y. There is a schism forming in the vampire world led by the leader of the Middle Eastern Tribe, a powerful old-soul vampire cal ed Chael. I met his chal enge at the counsel cal ed to proclaim me the Chosen One, but it did nothing to lessen his desire to pursue his own course. A course designed to elevate vampires to the top of the food chain and relegate humans to nothing more than fodder, an expendable food source whose only existence would be to serve their vampire masters.
Culebra’s voice breaks through my dark thoughts.
“What are you hiding from me, Anna?”
“Nothing.” Everything.
His thoughts are like a laser, trying to bore into mine.
I raise the beer bottle to my lips, drain it. Rise. “Have to go, my friend. I’l be in touch soon.”
Culebra doesn’t answer. Like Harris eyed me earlier, I feel the heat of his gaze as I stand to leave.
“Wait.”
I’m halfway to the door; I turn, pause.
“I have a message for you.”
“Who would leave a message for me here?”
Culebra crosses to the bar, reaches behind it for a folded piece of paper. “Somebody who is afraid you wouldn’t return his cal s if he tried to reach you directly.”
He holds the note out to me. As soon as I see the signature, I understand why he’d go through Culebra. He’s right. I wouldn’t have returned his cal s.
The note is from Max.
I stare down at the note. Culebra feels my anger build.
Max is an ex-boyfriend. Human. Couldn’t take off fast enough when he found out what I am, even though it’s
