a sculpted chest.
“Come to me, Beatrice,” he said, his velvety soft voice working its way under my skin and into every fiber of my being. A fog began to descend upon me, making the world around us go hazy, the edges blurry and indistinct. “I need you. . . .”
I tried to respond, to tell him to piss off, but I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. And that gaze . . . it was infinitely dark and deep, and I felt myself drifting into it, a connection between us pulling me in.
No, no, no . . .
I tried to break away as ghostly images, mercifully indistinct, drifted to me. Scenes of violence and gore were lurking just on the periphery, but I couldn’t quite make them out.
His icy cold fingertips lightly skimmed down the curve of my cheek to beneath my chin. His touch was tender, airy—and not quite solid. With a shock, I realized that the man standing with me was a creature of fog and mist. He wasn’t really there.
The realization seemed to break whatever spell he had over me, and I blinked, severing the connection from my thoughts to his. And with an energy that erupted from deep within the center of me, I screamed, lashing out with the iron stake. He burst apart in a million atoms of shadow, and re-formed a few feet away, a smug smirk curling his lips.
“That’s my girl. . . .” he taunted, slowly backing away. Then, with a quiet chuckle, he spun around and hurried down the alley.
Oh, hell no!
I’d be damned if he was going to get away that easily. I ran after him, my legs pumping as I raced to catch up with him. As the shadows in the alley began to grow deeper I slid to a stop, giving myself a mental smack upside the head. What the hell was I doing? Hadn’t I just walked into a trap two nights before doing the same damned thing? I wasn’t about to brand myself too stupid to live by falling for that trick again.
I glanced around, searching for any sign of movement. As I slowly began to back toward the street, I shifted the stake to my left hand and palmed the gun Nicky had tucked at the small of my back. “This isn’t over!” I called into the darkness. “I’ll find you, you son of a bitch!”
“Trish!”
I spun around with a start, gun out in front of me, ready to open fire. Nicky’s hand shot out, grabbing the gun from my hand before it’d even registered that he was standing there.
“What the hell’s going on?” he demanded, dragging me into his embrace. “Are you all right? I heard you screaming.”
I nodded against his chest, which was damp with what I realized must’ve been vampire blood from his altercations on the roof. “He was here, Nicky,” I told him. “Dracula was here.”
Chapter Twelve
Nicky was pacing furiously, a dark scowl on his face. “You should’ve told me.”
“Why?” I asked from my seat on the sofa. When he came to an abrupt halt and pegged me with a withering glare, I didn’t even flinch. Meeting his gaze, I clasped my hands between my knees to hide the fact that they were still trembling.
“Why?” he repeated. “Because Dracula’s been in your head, Trish! You know I’ve been tracking him for two years—you didn’t think to mention he’s been chatting with you?”
“We haven’t been chatting,” I corrected, trying to keep my voice level but rapidly losing my patience. “He’s been intruding. It’s not like I invited him in. Besides, I wasn’t even sure who it was. I’ve never met Dracula—I have no idea what his voice sounds like!”
“You still should’ve mentioned it!” he raged, jabbing a finger at me. “Did you ever think that maybe we could’ve used this connection to draw him out? That we could’ve lured him into a trap?”
“No, Nicky,” I spat. “I was a little more concerned about my sanity. So forgive the hell out of me for not thinking about how this development could’ve benefited you.”
He ran a hand through his hair, his anger almost a palpable force in the room. “This is seriously fucked up.”
“Tell me about it,” I snapped.
He shook his head. “I have to catch him, Trish.”
“I know.”
Nicky cursed roundly, then strode over to the fireplace and slammed his hand against one of the bricks. A large section of wall slid away in response, revealing a room that looked like the freaking Bat Cave. I hurried in after him before the wall slid closed behind him. As I stood there in the center of the room, slowly surveying the massive cache of weapons that took up pretty much every square inch of the wall, he began to strip off all his weapons in short, angry motions.
“Are we not going back out?” I asked as Nicky packed away the last of his weapons. “I’m fine. We can try to track down the vampires you had to give up on the roof when you heard me scream.”
He shook his head. “No, I won’t find them again tonight. I have a feeling they were only that obvious to draw me away from you.”
“I’m sorry, Nicky,” I said, shoving my hands into my pockets. “I don’t know how many times I have to say it.”
He shrugged and slammed one of the display case doors. “Forget about it.”
I wanted to forget about it, to feel like I hadn’t just been a liability to his efforts that night, but his perma- scowl made it tough. The minute we left his weapons room, I made for the stairs, figuring it was probably best if I made myself scarce and let him brood in private. I had just changed into a T-shirt and pajama pants and was pulling back the covers to slip into bed when there was a tentative knock on the door.
I opened it, expecting to see Nicky in all his gear, prepared to tell me he’d changed his mind and was going out on the hunt again. But, to my surprise, he was leaning against the door frame wearing nothing but his jeans, as if he’d been in the process of undressing when he’d suddenly decided to drop by.
“Hey,” I said as nonchalantly as I could manage while trying to keep from staring at his bare chest. I crossed my arms to keep my fingertips from going exploring.
He looked up at me from under lowered lashes. “Hey.”
I waited to see if he’d say more, but he started to fidget with a little bubble of paint on the door frame, his brows coming together in a frown as if he was concentrating intently.
“So . . .” I prompted. “What do you want?”
He shrugged. “You know. I just wanted to see if you were doing okay. If you needed anything.”
I waited a beat. “And?”
He huffed and gave me an irritated look. “And I wanted to say . . . You know . . .”
“Nope, sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t know. So if you have something you want to say, go ahead. Otherwise, I’m going to bed.”
“I wanted to apologize,” he said in a rush. When I didn’t immediately respond, he finally met my gaze. “Did you hear what I said? I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, I heard you.”
“Do you have anything to say?”
“Not really.”
He ran his hand through his hair, giving me a great look at those biceps in action. “I’m trying to apologize here, Trish,” he snapped. “You’re not making it easy.”
“Nope,” I agreed. “I’m not.”
At this, his dark expression suddenly cleared and the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. He cursed under his breath, shaking his head. “Fine. All right. I get it. I was an ass. I shouldn’t have made it seem like I didn’t care about what you’ve been going through.”
“Thanks.”
He nodded toward my room. “So, you gonna be okay in here tonight?”
