First Drop of Crimson

the luggage.

Spade introduced the blond vampire as Bootleg, making Denise wonder if he’d been changed over during Prohibition. Most vampires seemed to pick the oddest nicknames. She had yet to meet a John or a Sue.

“Everything is set for tonight,” Alten said when they pulled away.

“Excellent,” Spade replied, but Denise almost groaned out loud, sensing her plans for getting more than a couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep had just been demolished.

She shoved back her disappointment. Spade probably wanted to sleep, too. And not spend all his time, money, and safety running around because of her.

“What’s going on tonight?” she asked, glad her voice was calm instead of whiny.

Either her acting skills sucked or he could sense how exhausted she was, because Spade gave her a sympathetic glance. “Sorry, but tonight was the only evening we were sure he could attend. You can catch a nap beforehand, though.”

“Who? Him?” she asked meaningfully, not wanting to say Web’s name in case their search for him was something Bootleg and Alten weren’t aware of.

“Indeed, Web will be there,” Spade replied, squeezing her hand out of sight of Alten or Bootleg, who were in the front seat. “We’ll want his formal approval if we intend to move to Monaco permanently, darling. It’s such a small island. I wouldn’t want to be at odds with any important locals.”

That was the angle he was playing? A courteous, meet-the-neighbors approach? Oh sure, it might be all fangs and fruitcake welcome baskets at first, but then the danger to Spade and the killings would follow if Web did have Nathanial with him.

And Denise couldn’t live with that.

Now wasn’t the time to discuss it, though. Not with another two sets of undead ears in the car. She settled herself back into the seat, closing her eyes against the bright sunlight streaming in through the tinted windows. Her weariness was making her like a vampire; she would have turned the sun off like an annoying lamp, if she could.

Spade slid across the seat, folding her against his chest. Denise tensed for an instant, but then reminded herself of how she’d act if she really were in a relationship with him, as Alten and Bootleg believed. So she relaxed, settling herself against him with one arm around his lean stomach and the other behind his back, her head resting on his chest. His arms encircled her, hands lightly stroking her back, and she felt his chin rest on top of her head.

Deep contentment coursed through her. It wasn’t just enjoyment stemming from her being tired and now situated in a far more comfortable position; it was the sense of rightness she felt in Spade’s arms. Like she was where she was supposed to be, close to the only person she wanted to be with. It didn’t even seem possible that a short time ago, she’d feared Spade.

Or maybe she hadn’t. Maybe her panic attacks around vampires had been the only thing preventing her from focusing on the very real, very intense connection she felt to Spade. He understood her better than she understood herself at times. When Spade looked at her, she felt like she wasn’t the broken, pitiful, helpless widow others saw. Spade saw a woman with a scarred past who had the strength to go on despite her loss. And more and more, Denise didn’t look at Spade and see a vampire in a violent world—she saw a man who had the courage to take whatever life threw at him and come out on top.

She saw someone she wanted a future with.

The intensity of her emotions was shocking, but Denise was too tired to dwell on all the obstacles that made her feelings moot. She didn’t have to worry about that now. Right now, she could sit here and soak up that wonderful sense of belonging, of caring, of rightness. After all the horror, grief, and pain of the past year plus, she needed this.

Then later, she’d do what had to be done.

Chapter Twenty

Spade stood over Denise. Her beautiful face was so peaceful in sleep, absent the worry, strain, and guilt that normally shadowed it. He loathed waking her, knowing she’d been running on sheer willpower for the past several days. She hadn’t even stirred when he’d carried her from the car up to this room, placing her in bed. But he couldn’t wait any longer.

“Denise.” He couldn’t resist touching her face and then drifting his hand down her neck. Her skin was like molten satin, the feel of it as addicting as her blood. “Denise, wake up.”

Her eyes opened, an entrancing mixture of brown and green fixing on him. She blinked and then smiled sleepily.

“Hey. Are we here?”

“For four hours now,” he replied, his mouth twitching as she glanced around, surprise stamped on her features when she realized she was in a bedroom instead of the car she’d fallen asleep in.

“Wow. I must have really passed out.” Denise shook her head, sitting up and running a hand through her thick dark hair to push it out of her face. Her stomach woke up next, judging from the howl it let out that had her flushing faintly.

Spade moved aside, revealing the table beside him that had several covered dishes on it.

“Hamburger with lettuce, tomato, pickle, and ketchup, extra fries, plus chicken soup, crackers, and chocolate cake.”

Her eyes widened and then she laughed. “You remembered exactly what I like. God, Spade, I think I love you.”

It was said in jest, but the tightness in his chest at hearing those words struck him like a blow. He already knew he cared for Denise far more than he’d cared for anyone in a very long time, but at that moment, he realized how serious it had become. I’m in love with you. I never thought that would happen to me again—and especially with a human.

She had to let him change her into a vampire. He couldn’t bear losing her to her fragile human mortality, where death could pounce even under the most benign of circumstances. As a human, she could choke on a bite of that hamburger and be lost to him forever, for pity’s sake. There was no way he could tolerate her remaining human, and if she cared for him as he believed she did, she’d want to change over so they could be together for centuries at least. Not mere decades.

Denise cleared her throat, looking away, her honeyed jasmine scent turning tarter with discomfort over her previous quip. Far more discomfort than she should feel, unless she also knew there was more between them than friendly affection, necessity, or lust.

“I need to talk to you,” she said, pretending to study the painting on the opposite wall. “It’s important, and I don’t want anyone to overhear it.”

Anticipation surged in him. Was she about to admit that she cared for him? Had she realized their worlds were equally dangerous and there was no more cruelty in his versus hers?

Bloody hell, if she did, he’d cancel the party and spend the rest of the evening in bed with her, sod how Web or any of the other undead guests might be offended. He could always smooth things over with them later, but he’d be damned if he would turn Denise away were she to declare her feelings for him.

He crossed the room, shutting the door and then turning on the telly loud enough to make her feel comfortable that they wouldn’t be overheard. Then he sat on edge of the bed, fighting not to do anything to startle her. Like tearing her clothes off so he could feel her scorching, silky skin all over him.

“What is it?” he asked, not a hint of his internal struggle in his voice.

She took a deep breath. “I’m calling it off, everything. Whatever you were intending tonight with Web, looking for Nathanial, all of it.”

Frustration covered his desire in a blink. “Not this again. I’ve told you a dozen times; I’m not letting you go after Nathanial on your own.”

“I’m not intending to go after him at all,” she said, defiance and resignation competing in her voice. “You’re right, I couldn’t begin to find him without a vampire’s help, and no vampire but Bones would be crazy enough to