First Drop of Crimson

“Not for months. Not since…”

A knowing look crossed his face. “Not since you saw me kill that bloke,” he finished for her. “Why didn’t you tell me you suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder?”

Now that the episode had passed, she felt embarrassed. “I said it hadn’t happened in a while, and wasn’t that the least of my concerns when I saw you again?”

Denise held up her wrists for emphasis. The demon marks were concealed by wide silver and gold bangles, but they both knew what was under them.

“I just ruined the plan for tonight, didn’t I?” she groaned. “I can’t believe I let that happen.”

Spade brushed her face with one of the paper towels. “If I’d been paying more attention, I would have anticipated this possibility. We’ll leave now. We can sort out how to get a look at the others later.”

“No.” Denise took the towel from him and swiped under her eyes. Her mascara was probably everywhere. “We’re here. Let’s do this. I’ll be okay if—this sounds so pathetic—I’ll be okay as long as you don’t leave me alone again. Being around all those vampires by myself just reminded me too much of—of that night. I don’t know if it’s possible, at this sort of thing—”

Something flashed across his face, too quick for her to translate. “I won’t leave you alone.” He held out his hand. “Please.”

She placed her hand in his. Then she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

“My makeup is ruined.”

“Nonsense, you look beautiful. In fact, I’ve been propositioned on your behalf twice already.”

An edge was in his voice. Denise couldn’t tell if it was amusement or annoyance. She decided not to ask.

“I’m sure that’ll change after my little psycho episode. It usually leaves a bad impression. That brings up a point, by the way. Aren’t you worried that down the road, one of your people will say to Bones or Cat, ‘Hey, I recognize the brunette. She’s the nut job who belongs to Spade’s line,’ and then you’ll be outed for your role in this?”

Spade’s gaze locked with hers, his burnt-copper eyes both distant and fathomless. “No. Because we both know you have no intention of seeing anyone in the vampire world again once this is over.”

Denise looked away. Her panic attacks had only abated after she’d cut ties with Cat and anyone else who wasn’t human. No way was she going back to being at the mercy of her memories, never knowing when her mind would trick her into thinking she was back at that awful ambush on New Year’s Eve.

“You see what being around your kind does to me. I don’t want to live like that, and I know how to make it stop.”

His hand was still curled around hers, his grip cool, secure, and with an underlying strength that was utterly inhuman.

“Right, then,” he said at last. “Let’s see if we can’t hasten that day for you.”

Denise sat to his right at the ornate table in the ballroom, unaware this was the reason behind the discreet gawks she was getting. No doubt she thought those were due to how she’d screamed and blanked out from shock earlier. She didn’t realize such an outburst would garner only mild intrigue among his worldly line members. A hysterical human? Who hadn’t seen that before?

But what his people hadn’t seen was a woman with a beating heart seated at his right during a formal event. Such placement indicated far higher standing than that of mere property, but his left was reserved for Alten, the most senior vampire in his line. Spade had intended for Denise to sit behind him, as was more fitting for property—even favored property. But while that would have been prudent, and likely even sufficient for her PTSD, he found he was loath to let go of her hand.

And that spelled trouble in every language he knew.

If there was a God, Nathanial would be among the people here and Spade would deliver him to the demon tonight. Spade would even put a bow on the sod and wish Raum good sup, as long as that meant Denise exited his life immediately. He could not afford to let himself care for a human. Not again.

Yet the cynic in him wasn’t surprised that after the painstakingly long process of introducing Denise to the hundreds of people, alive and undead, in his line, she shook her head in disappointment.

“He’s not here,” she whispered.

Spade bit back a curse. Right. It would be too easy if he were.

Alten leaned over and handed him a CD. “Financials,” he said. “I’ve run through the numbers. Everything seems on the up-and-up, except for Turner. He’s missed his second quarterly in a row.”

Spade absently continued to stroke Denise’s knuckles. Her skin was still warmer than it should be. Could she have caught ill? Perhaps he shouldn’t have sought to irritate her out of her depression with the ridiculously scanty togs she had on. “Mmmph,” he grunted.

Alten stared at him. “For the second quarter in a row,” he repeated.

Spade snapped his attention back to the other vampire. Yes, right, Turner’s refusal to pay ten percent of his salary was an issue. Every vampire owed that to the Master of his line.

“Turner,” he called out. “Do you have a reason for missing your tithe?”

The blond-haired vampire came through the others to stand in front of the table. He gave the proper bow, but when Spade caught Turner’s scent and saw the mutiny in his expression, he heaved a mental sigh. Turner was about to brass him off something awful.

“I didn’t pay my tithe because I want my freedom from your line, sire,” Turner said, straightening his shoulders.

Spade eyed him, his patience dwindling by the second. “Undead just forty-four years, and you think you’re ready to become Master of your own line?”

“Yes,” Turner said. Then, with even more arrogance, “Release me to be my own Master. I have no wish to fight you, but if you deny my request, I will challenge you.”

Stupid. Reckless. Fool.

“Overconfidence like that is exactly why you aren’t ready to lead your own line yet. Your rashness would get you killed, and then all those you’ve created would be left without protection. That is why I deny your request for freedom, Turner, and if you follow through with your intention to challenge me, I promise you will regret it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Spade saw Denise looking back and forth between him and Turner. He glanced at her and saw her face was pale. She might not know a great deal about vampire society, but it was clear she understood that unless Turner had a sudden flash of intelligence, things were about to get bloody. That might be disastrous for the hard-fought calm she’d shown these past few hours, surrounded by far more undead people than living ones.

Spade returned his glare to Turner. Turner looked around, and then his hand went to his belt where he had a silver knife.

“I challenge you.”

Very slowly, Spade let go of Denise’s hand. Then he leaned in, his mouth almost brushing her ear.

“According to my laws, I must answer this. I’ll have Alten wait with you in the car. This shouldn’t take long.”

“I’m staying.”

He drew back to see her face. She was still very pale and her fingernails dug grooves into her leg, but her voice had been hard.

“That might not be wise…”

“If I feel a freak-out coming on, I’ll leave, but until then, I’m staying.”

Stubborn woman. Did no one have any sense tonight?

Spade rose, giving a sharp look to Alten. “If she wants to leave, take her to the car and wait for me there.”

Alten quickly masked his surprise with a nod. People didn’t decide to get up and leave in the middle of a duel. Especially not property. “As you wish.”

If he was being logical, he’d have Alten take Denise to the car now. Instead he was inviting more speculation about Denise, both by seating her at his right and by letting her argue with him publicly. No one has any sense tonight, Spade thought jadedly. Least of all