First Drop of Crimson

must think she was a special sort of stupid with how she kept coming on to him even though he’d made it clear that this was just business for him. Yes, Spade had responded in the park, but he’d also been half crazed from the effects in her blood. Add that to the general perverted nature of vampires, and Denise expected Spade would’ve acted the same way even if she’d been a sheep.

She should let him walk away. She’d manipulated him into something that had already cost him a great deal, both in time and in money. How could she continue to use him, even if it was for a good cause? She wasn’t any better than Raum or her soul-selling relative.

Denise straightened. “This is turning into a lot more than you agreed to and it’s not fair. It wasn’t fair to begin with, but I was so scared then, I–I wasn’t thinking. I am now, though, and I can’t let you keep helping me.”

He looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “You think you can walk away and handle this on your own?”

“I know a lot more than I did to begin with, and maybe…maybe I could even hire Ian to help me,” she added, hating the idea but willing to try anything to let Spade off the hook. “He proved to be for sale with the whole property-for-silence thing before, and—”

“You couldn’t afford Ian’s loyalty,” Spade cut her off. “And if I hadn’t been his close friend for centuries, neither could I. We’ve been over this before, Denise. I’m not just your best option; I’m your only option.”

Frustration boiled in her. “I already promised I wouldn’t go to Bones. You didn’t want to help me to begin with, so good news, I’ve come to my senses and you’re free.”

Spade moved closer until he towered over her, green blazing from his eyes.

“You haven’t come to your senses—you’ve lost them entirely, which is why I’m going to ignore everything you just said.”

“Don’t patronize me,” she snapped.

His brow arched. “I’m being practical. You lost a good deal of blood and then Raum had at you again. It stands to reason those two events would leave your wits less than…optimal.”

Denise’s anger gave way to rage, fueled by all the other emotions she wouldn’t let herself express.

“Fuck you,” she spat. “I’m not asking you, I’m telling you I’m leaving, and you’re not following me. Period.”

Spade’s eyes glinted dangerously. “Try it. See how far you get.”

She balled her fists—only to feel pain jabbing her in the palms. Startled, Denise glanced at her hands. And screamed.

Yellowed, daggerlike nails protruded from impossibly long fingers, their sharp, hideous points leaving bloody half moons on her palms. They weren’t her hands. They were the hands of a monster.

Chapter Twelve

For a second, Spade just stared at Denise’s hands. He’d never seen such a thing before, not in all his centuries. Then the panicked, horrified expression on her face snapped him into action.

He yanked his coat off, wrapping her hands in them, catching the spare drops of blood that dripped out after those gruesome nails punctured her skin. He couldn’t risk anyone coming across her blood and finding out it was a drug. Then he swept Denise up in his arms. She was still staring at her hands even though they were now bundled in his coat. Her whole body trembled and harsh gasps came out of her. She was in shock, he realized. Little wonder; the sight of her hands had shocked him, and they weren’t sprouting from the ends of his arms.

Spade carried her inside, whispering soothing nonsense more to distract her than in any belief that what he said would make her feel better. Second floor, third door on the left, Ian had said. Spade took the stairs three at a time and went into the third room he came to, kicking it closed. Then he sat on the bed, holding Denise, still whispering a string of comforting promises he had no idea if he’d be able to keep.

He was glad when she burst into tears, because it meant the shock had worn off. He’d been worried this last thing might break Denise. There was only so much one person could take, after all, and it had just been last week he thought she’d snapped from stress, before he knew about her demon brands and the threat to her family. Christ, if he were Denise, he’d weep, too. And possibly stake himself.

Spade held her tighter, leaning back on the bed, pulling the blanket around them since she was still shivering. He shifted to curl his body closer around hers. Her head was tucked against his chest, hiding her face, and her shoulders shook with sobs she was now trying to choke back.

He wished he could do something more for her than the pitiful comfort he was providing. Had he helped her at all since she came to him? It didn’t feel like it, and her hands certainly seemed to be damning evidence of his failure. What part of Denise would pay next if he continued to fail, warped into monstrosity by the demon’s essence continuing to grow inside her?

I won’t let that happen, Spade promised himself, his arms tightening around her. Her wretched relative Nathanial had found a way to defeat Raum for several generations. Spade was a centuries- old Master vampire; he’d be damned if he’d fall short where a human had succeeded.

“It will be all right,” he told Denise, and meant it this time.

She made what sounded like a gasping snort. “You’ve got a delusional sense of optimism, you know that?”

Brave, lovely, stubborn Denise, making a joke when she should be senseless with horror over her circumstances. Spade laughed even as something clicked in his heart that he knew would be permanent. This wasn’t just lust he felt. It went so much deeper than that.

“It’s my secret shame,” he told her, brushing his lips across her hair and not caring that it shouldn’t feel as right as it did.

She sighed, a choppy, hoarse sound. Her previous shaking had faded to a recurring shiver and her sobs had been replaced with a slight hiccup. Spade marveled that it was less than ten minutes since she’d first seen her hands. Bloody strong woman.

“That’s one coat, two shirts, a house, and a boat I’ve cost you,” she muttered. “God, Spade, save yourself. Walk away.”

He leaned back against the high headboard, still keeping his arms around her. “No.”

“This isn’t your—”

“Could you argue with me later, darling? I’m rather knackered now.”

So saying, he closed his eyes, silently willing her not to keep battling him—and not to get up, either. He wanted to keep holding her like this. It was the source of the most contentment he’d felt in over a century, though he’d also told the truth about being tired. The sun was high and he hadn’t slept aside from a couple of hours knocked unconscious from blood loss and drugs. Denise also had to be exhausted. She hadn’t slept at all after he’d drained her blood and then Raum performed his evil workings on her.

She didn’t say anything. Spade waited, inwardly tense even though his limbs were loose. She still had her face ducked against his chest, her mahogany-colored hair spilling across him, her hands still wrapped in his coat under the blanket. The minutes began to tick by, but she remained quiet, and she didn’t try to leave. Gradually, her breathing lost the congested irregularity from her previous tears to become slow and even.

He didn’t fully relax until he knew she was asleep. Then he allowed himself to drift off, one arm still wrapped around her, his other hand cupping her head to his chest.

Denise stretched, yawning, her eyes still closed. The big, hard body next to hers shifted, pulling her closer while murmuring something unintelligible. She wrapped herself around him before her slowly returning consciousness took note of the situation.

You’re in bed with Spade.

Denise’s eyes flew open. Spade’s face was only inches away, his arms encircling her, his legs tangled in hers. That was the good news. The bad news was that her breasts were pressed against his chest and his thigh