First Drop of Crimson

him, torn between the urge to tell him to button up his shirt and her own enjoyment at catching glimpses of his bare chest.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked at last. She was. She’d left her coat back at the Crimson Fountain. Thankfully, her sweater was thick and she hadn’t taken off her long gloves. Couldn’t risk someone seeing the demon brands on her, after all.

“Not really,” Spade replied. “Vampires don’t react to cold like humans do. I can feel the cold, of course, but it doesn’t cause the same sensation in me. I’d say we should go back to fetch your coat, but we’re more than halfway to the hotel already.”

Denise glanced at the next street sign—and gasped. A shiver of a different nature ran up her spine.

“How far did I run?”

Spade’s expression was both hard and pitying at the same time. “’Round a dozen blocks.”

She shouldn’t be able to run that far in the scant minutes that had elapsed. An Olympic runner would have a hard time doing it, and she was no Olympic runner. Raum’s brands were manifesting even more than she’d realized.

“Oh shit,” Denise whispered.

Spade didn’t respond with any useless, comforting clichés, for which she was grateful. She’d heard enough of those well-meaning phrases after Randy died. Why couldn’t people acknowledge that occasionally, life just sucked? Didn’t they realize that sometimes silence was more comforting than the most sincere expression of sympathy or attempt at showing the deeper meaning behind it all?

Up ahead, the horizon of buildings broke and a vast expanse of open space and trees met her gaze.

“Central Park,” Spade said, nudging her forward. Denise hadn’t even noticed that she’d stopped. “Our hotel is right down the next street, in fact, so not far if you get too cold. With all the snow, you can’t see everything that’s still living in the park, but it’s there.”

Denise smiled, some of the anxiety leaking from her. “It’s perfect.”

She let Spade lead her into the park, marveling that she didn’t feel the slightest bit afraid. Under normal circumstances, it would be the height of stupidity to wander through here in the dark, wee hours of the morning. Still, there was nothing normal about having a vampire at her side and demon marks on her skin. Potential muggers beware, she thought wryly. Spade hadn’t gotten his dinner before. He’d probably eat the first person who approached them in a threatening manner.

“How old were you when you died?” she asked, going off the path in favor of walking in the snow. Spade followed behind her, his steps sounding so much surer than hers in the dark.

“Thirty.”

Denise sighed. “I’ll be twenty-eight on my next birthday.”

“I’ll be two hundred and fifty-seven on my next birthday,” Spade replied, an edge of something she couldn’t name in his voice.

Giving him another once-over, Denise couldn’t help but laugh.

“You look pretty good for such an old man.”

He grinned, his smile a white, wicked flash in the night. “Flattery will get you everywhere, darling.”

She had to turn away quickly, because if she didn’t, her gaze would linger too long on all the evidence of her statement. Spade did look good. Too good, especially with his shirt blowing behind him, showing a chest that looked like carved moonlight. His long black hair also rustled in the breeze, taking turns hiding or revealing his face, but it wasn’t hard for her to see his eyes. Their depths glowed with green specks, drawing her gaze even though she knew it was dangerous to keep looking.

Denise sat down, pretending to draw something in the snow, ignoring the cold seeping in through her long skirt. She had on tights and knee-high boots underneath her skirt, but that wasn’t enough to protect her from the freezing earth. Still, better to shiver from contact with the snow than reveal the tremble that had swept through her while she’d stared at Spade. This isn’t you, she reminded herself. It’s just the demon marks.

The crunching of snow announced that Spade was walking over to her. Denise didn’t glance at him. She felt her heart speeding up and cursed herself for it.

“Denise.”

Spade’s voice was lower, and he drew her name out in a way that made her heart speed up even more. Still, she kept her attention on the random pattern she’d drawn, even when she felt him kneel down next to her.

It’s just the demon marks, just the demon marks…

His hand slid across her back. Shivers rippled through her that had nothing to do with the cold. Then Spade’s shoulder brushed hers, followed by his leg touching her thigh as he moved even closer.

Everywhere he grazed her, her flesh felt like it was vibrating. Denise kept her head bent, her hair covering her face, hand quivering as she continued to blindly trace her fingers through the snow.

It’s just the demon marks, just the demon marks!

Spade brushed her hair back with a light, caressing stroke. She wished his fingers felt lifeless and cold, but they didn’t. They felt strong, supple, and knowing. Like he realized exactly how she was reacting to his touch.

“Denise…”

His voice was so deep, and the breath he’d used saying her name touched her cheek in its own caress. Denise closed her eyes. Everything in her wanted to turn toward Spade and abandon the last, thin thread of control she had. The need surging inside her had to be from the demon marks. She’d never felt such a strong pull toward anyone before, even Randy…

Randy. Murdered because she’d thought it would be fun to spend New Year’s Eve with vampires. And now here she was, a scant fourteen months later, about to throw herself into a vampire’s arms.

No. She wouldn’t let herself.

“You must be hungry.” Guilt and grief had thrown a much-needed bucket of ice water on her emotions. “I interrupted your dinner by running off, so let me make that up to you.”

Denise flipped her hair back, able to meet Spade’s eyes without the same shivery need as before. She had to stop thinking of him in any way except a vampire—and she would not let herself be lulled into another false sense of security about what the vampire world entailed. Having Spade bite her was the surest way to remind her of what he was; a vampire who lived in a world filled with blood and death.

Spade’s eyes were all green, lighting up his face with a hazy emerald glow. Denise didn’t want to know if they’d been that way before her offer, because she knew what else could have drawn such a response.

“You want me to bite you?” he asked, low and rough. “Just days ago, you were stuffing yourself full of garlic trying to prevent that very thing.”

“You’ve made it clear that you won’t let me pay you back any of the money you’ve lost helping me, so giving you blood is the least I can do, right?”

Denise kept her gaze challenging as she tilted her neck. It would hurt being bitten. She knew that from experience. It was how Denise had met Cat, when Cat rescued her from a vampire trying to drink her to death. A little pain now would go a long way toward reminding her of why she needed to stay away from Spade—and all the undead—once she found Nathanial.

Spade’s voice was very soft. “Get up and walk away from me, Denise, or I will take you up on your offer.”

His gaze pinned hers, that green glow penetrating. She knew he wasn’t using his power on her, because her mind felt clear, but she was drawn in nonetheless.

She had to end this bewildering attraction she felt for him. Now, before it got any stronger. If she was lucky, she’d have a PTSD attack on the spot.

“Go ahead, vampire,” she replied, equally soft.

Spade’s mouth was on her throat before the last word left her.

Her skin was so hot, even in the frigid air. He’d intended to bite her quickly, to give her what she was looking for—repugnance. He knew that was her goal when desperation and anger replaced the intoxicating fragrance of desire coming from her.