First Drop of Crimson

Denise was still shaking her head over Ian’s crude imagery when the rest of what he said penetrated.

“What human was he attentive with a hundred and fifty years ago?”

Even as she asked it, she wished she hadn’t. For one, it was none of her business, and for another, she was starting to sound like a vampire, with “human” this and “human” that. She had to get away from this world. Back to hers, where there were nothing but humans to distinguish between.

Ian’s eyes gleamed. “Hasn’t he told you about her yet?”

She couldn’t help herself. “Her who?”

“Ah, ah.” Ian tsked. “That’s not my tale to tell, poppet.”

“Then you shouldn’t have brought it up,” she snapped, her temper blistering in an instant.

Both of Ian’s brows went up. Denise fought for control. This wasn’t she. It was the damn demon marks. She had to get focus on priorities. It didn’t matter what happened with Spade and some woman a century ago.

To distract herself from the inexplicable rage still simmering in her, she turned to the brunette at her right.

“Sorry, Ian didn’t introduce us. I’m Denise. Nice to meet you.”

No fewer than eighty of Ian’s people passed through the Crimson Fountain’s door. An impressive number, considering Ian summoned them only earlier this afternoon. In addition to that, Spade counted several vampires not of Ian’s line, plus more than a few ghouls, and dozens of humans with a distinct undead scent that marked them as someone’s property.

But Denise hadn’t recognized her relative among any of them. By three A.M., the scent of weariness and dejection coming from her was palpable.

“We’ll be leaving shortly,” Spade told her.

Denise nodded, her head propped up on her hand, her shoulders slumped.

“You did very well tonight,” he added, trying to lighten her mood even as he cursed himself. He wasn’t here to be a bloody cheerleader, after all. Still, the iron will Denise had exhibited, pushing back the PTSD he could tell had risen more than once, impressed him. Denise was a better survivor than she gave herself credit for. With time, she’d be able to defeat her anxiety around vampires and ghouls entirely.

But she doesn’t want to, he reminded himself. Once Denise had those marks off, she’d have no need to, be cause she’d never willingly associate with a vampire or ghoul again.

The thought soured his mood. He stood. “I need to feed before we leave. Stay here with Ian.”

He didn’t wait for her response, but grimly headed for the dance floor. Even at this late hour, it was crowded enough that he could have his pick of people to feed from. The Crimson Fountain didn’t close until dawn, still a few hours away.

Spade tore his thoughts away from Denise and concentrated on the moving feast before him. A young woman didn’t wait for him to make his decision. She sidled over, smiling as she snake-hipped to the music in front of him.

“Hello, gorgeous,” she crooned.

Spade raked her with a gaze. Human and healthy; she’d do. He wasn’t feeling particular at the moment.

He let her lead him deeper amid the other dancers, smiling back as he pulled her to him, fitting his body along the length of hers. She gasped when he began to move, swaying and bending her in time to the pulsing rhythm. Lust reeked off her, and she gave him a seductive look as she began to unbutton his shirt, trailing her hands down his flesh once it hung open.

Spade allowed her to explore for another minute. Then he spun her around, her warm back heating his chest, her pulse—so close to his mouth—jumping with excitement. She rubbed, catlike, against him, letting out a moan as he brushed her hair back and nuzzled her neck. He kept dancing as he held her, unconcerned about letting his fangs show in this crowd, or in bending his head to her throat. Anyone watching would think it was an act, the same pantomime that had been played out countless times tonight. And she’d never know it had been the real thing once he was done mesmerizing her.

Right before he sank his teeth into her neck, however, a sharp whistle jerked his head up. Ian stood next to the railing over the dance floor, gesturing almost lazily toward the exit.

“Thought you’d want to know. Denise just ran off.”

Chapter Nine

Her heart pounded and panic vibrated just below the surface. Denise increased her pace, wishing she could somehow outrun her feelings. The worst part was, this had nothing to do with her PTSD.

She couldn’t help but watch as Spade stalked off to the dance floor, contemplating the people on it the same way a predator eyed a herd. Then that black-haired woman sashayed up, almost dry-humping the air in front of him. And he’d gone with her. Started to move in a way that the word dancing didn’t even begin to describe. Denise’s mouth had gone dry and her palms started to sweat. As the buttons came off Spade’s shirt and his pale, hard flesh was revealed in the fluorescent lighting, her pulse began to thump, too. His corded muscles rippled with each new bend and sway he made, that aura of dangerousness replaced with raw, blistering sensuality instead.

And when he’d spun the woman around, his black hair sliding forward to cover his face as he bent to her throat, pure, adulterated heat had slammed into Denise. It was so fierce, so unexpected, and so overwhelming that she’d trembled in her seat—only to be shaken out of her trance at Ian’s low chuckle.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, poppet?”

From the expression on Ian’s face, he knew exactly what she’d been feeling—and what had inspired it.

So she’d run like hell. Better Spade think she was crazy than realize the truth, as Ian had.

Some fuzzy part of her recognized that the places she passed seemed to blur together. She had no idea where she was going. Away was good enough right now. At this hour, traffic was light enough that she didn’t need to pause before crossing the streets, or maybe she didn’t care about causing cars to slam on their brakes. Such tall buildings, narrow streets, and endless concrete. It felt like she was in a maze that was slowly closing in on her. Even the night’s sky was only visible in small slits between the buildings looming above.

An iron grip closed around her elbow. Denise jerked away, but that grip didn’t budge. Instead she was swept up against a hard, tall body, her feet swinging in the air with how rapidly she’d been grabbed.

“Let go!” she gasped.

Spade’s face was very close. He’d left his jacket back at the club and obviously hadn’t stopped to button up his shirt, either, because his muscled, bare chest pressed against her sweater.

“You’re all right, Denise,” he said firmly. “Nothing’s coming after you. You’re safe.”

Of course. Spade thought she was in the midst of another panic attack. That was partly true, only for a different reason.

“I’m okay now. I just…needed to get away from there,” she said, her breath coming in pants.

Spade’s eyes narrowed and he relaxed his grip, but didn’t let her go. Denise tried to slow her breathing, praying her previous bout of lust wouldn’t raise its head again.

“I see.”

He still hadn’t let her go. Denise wiggled experimentally. His grip loosened more, but his arms stayed where they were.

Denise cast about for something, anything, to distract her from what being in Spade’s embrace felt like. “This city is so stifling. It’s just buildings, more buildings, and more buildings. Isn’t there anything alive around here?”

His lips curled even as she groaned at her choice of words. “I meant alive, like trees and grass—”

“I know what you meant,” he cut her off, still with that half smile. “In fact, you ran in the right direction, if that’s what you’re seeking. Come.”

His arms finally dropped from around her, but he placed a light hand on her back. Denise walked next to