Shesat up enough to yank at his shirt, and he let her pull it off andthrow it aside. Then, once again, he pressed her to the bed and tookcontrol, peeling away her clothing—the girdle and garters were morepieces of modern clothing he was still coming to terms with—and runninghis cool hands over every burning inch of her, kissing as he went. Onlyafter she came for him did he take what he needed, from a small andcareful bite at her throat.
Herblood was ecstasy.
Herheart, aroused and racing, pumped a strong flow for him. He could havedrained her in moments, but took in only a few mouthfuls. Not enough tocompletely satisfy, but enough to keep him alive for a couple moredays. Vampires had learned this long ago—how much more efficient tokeep them alive and producing. And how much richer to coax it fromthem, instead of spilling it.
Helicked the wound, encouraging the blood to clot. She’d gone limp, andher breathing had settled. Propping himself over her, he turned herface so that he was looking straight down at her. Her eyes were wide,pupils dilated. Her brow was furrowed, her expression both amazed andconfused. Maybe even hurt. Holding her gaze, he focused on her, into her, and spoke softly.
“Youwon’t remember this. You’ll remember the bliss and nothing else. I’mjust a man, just a lover, and you won’t remember anything else. Isn’tthat right?” Slowly, she nodded. Her worried expression, the wrinklesaround her eyes, faded. “Good, Helen. Rememberthe good, let the rest go. Now, sleep. Sleep until I wake you up again.”
Hereyes closed, and she let out a sigh.
Dawnhad nearly arrived. The room had no windows, but he could feel it. Thewarm and sated glow that came after feeding joined with the lethargy ofdaylight. He was safe and calm, so he let the morning pull him underuntil he fell unconscious, still holding her hand.
Thenext night, Rick had a message from Detective Hardin waiting for him.He called back immediately.
“Hello,Rick?” she said. “Do you even have a last name?”
“Haveyou foundsomething, Detective?” he said.
“Yeah.Charles Blake? I looked him up. Not only is he still alive, he got outon parole four months ago.”
Theair seemed to go still for a moment, and sounds faded as he pulled hisawareness to a tiny space around him—the phone, what Hardin had justtold him, how that made him feel. Cold, tight, hands clenching, apredator’s snarl tugging at his lips.
Hedrew a couple of calm breaths to steady himself, and to be able tospeak to the detective. “You think he killed her?”
“Ithink he hired someone to do it for him. He might have collectedfavors in prison and called them in when he got out. Guy was a realpeach, from what I gather. I can’t go into too many details, but thecrime scene is pretty slim on evidence, which speaks to someone withexperience. The back door was unlocked. We think he might have come tosee her earlier in the day. That must have been when she called you.”
Howsmall, how petty, to carry a grudge over such a length of time. Howlike a vampire. And yet, how human as well. That grudge might very wellhave kept Blake alive all this time.
“Howare you doing?” she asked. “This must come as a shock to you.”
Itsounded like something she said to any victim’s family. He smiled tothink she’d next offer to refer him to grief counseling. “I’m allright, Detective. It wasn’t a shock. I’ve been expecting this for sixtyyears. About Blake—do you know where he is? Have you arrested him?”
“I’mafraid I can’t discuss an ongoing investigation any further. I justthought you’d want to know about Blake.”
“Thankyou. I appreciate it.”
Theyboth hung up, and he considered. He could find Blake. He’d be an oldman now, ancient. Not much to live for, after spending most of his lifein prison. He’d exacted his revenge, and Rick didn’t think he’d spend alot of time trying to get out of town or hide. And this was Rick’scity, now.
DetectiveHardin hadn’t arrested Blake yet because she was building her case,searching for evidence, obtaining warrants. Rick had every confidencethat she’d do her job to the utmost of her ability and that throughher, justice would be served.
Inthis case, he wasn’t interested in waiting.
Afterkilling Arturo and replacing him as Master of Denver, Rick hadtransformed the lair. The parlor was now an office, with functionalsofas and a coffee table, and a desk and bookshelves for work. He pacedaround the desk and considered. Blake would have a parole officer whowould know where he was. The man might even be living in some kind ofhalfway house for ex-cons. After so long in prison, it was doubtful hehad any family or friends left. He had no place else to go. And if hewas right about Blake’s state of mind, the man wouldn’t even be hiding.
Heflipped through a ledger and found a name, recently entered. A womanwho’d run a prostitution ring in the seventies—with blackmail on theside. She’d served her time, she knew the system, and she owed him afavor.
“Hello,Carol. It’s Rick. I need to know who the parole officer is for arecently released felon.”
Nightfell, and Rick woke.
Helenhad turned over on her side and curled up, pressing against him, herhands on his arm. She looked sweet and vulnerable.
Heleaned over and breathed against her ear. “Wake up, Helen.”
Hereyes opened. Pulling away from him, she sat up, looking dazed, as iftrying to remember where she was and how she’d gotten here. Herclothes were hanging off her, loose, and her hair was in tangles.
“Youall right?” he asked.
Sheglared. “Did you put something in my drink?”
“No.”
Shelooked herself over, retrieving her clothes, fastening buttons, andrunning fingers through her hair. Wryly, she said, “You never even tookyour trousers off, did you?”
Heanswered her smile. “Never mind. As long as you’re all right.”
“Yeah,I’m fine. More than fine. You’re something else, Rick, you knowthat?”
“There’sa washroom
