First Drop of Crimson

Spade stood in the security line at the airport in Vienna, gripping a pet carrier in one hand and Nathanial’s shoulder in the other. Crispin and Cat were right behind Nathanial. Cat looked normal, but Spade knew it was taking all her concentration to function this early into the morning.

“Will you be checking your pet with your luggage, or upgrading to first class to board it with you?” the ticketing employee asked.

A strangled noise escaped Cat. Spade clenched his jaw. “Upgrading,” he bit out.

Inside the carrier, a loud hiss followed by a series of angry scratching sounds made the employee glance up.

“I’ll need proof of current vaccinations,” she said.

Spade leaned forward until their faces were only a foot apart, green flashing from his eyes.

“You’ve got the proof, now hurry along,” he growled.

A glazed look settled over her gaze but her fingers flew across the keyboard. In moments, Spade had his ticket—and his papers to fly with an animal. Nathanial better be right about this being only temporary, Spade thought, fighting the urge to kill someone just as an outlet for the frustration seething in him.

“It’ll be okay,” Nathanial said, as if reading his mind. “As soon as she’s relaxed, she’ll change back.”

The cat—Denise—was anything but relaxed now. She’d hissed and clawed at anything that came near her, until Spade had to scruff her in order to fly away from the boat with her. Now, of course, they needed to use a more traditional form of flying to get to a safe place. Anywhere within a hundred miles of Monaco was too close to Web and his people for Spade’s comfort.

He waited another ten minutes until everyone had their tickets, needing to briefly green-eye the employee again for Ian’s fake ID to pass as Nathanial. It wasn’t such a stretch; both men were of similar height, hair color, and age in human appearance, but no sense risking a security delay when there was a way around it. The lad had been very cooperative since Spade told him tersely that he’d captured him to help Denise. That was true, after all. Just not how the bloke realized.

Once on board the plane to Bucharest, however, Spade’s icy composure began to crack. The woman he loved was in a cat carrier at his feet, and he had only the word of a shiftless, demon-dodging sod that it wasn’t permanent. Denise’s hands changed back, Spade reminded himself, but it was poor comfort. Mild hand deformity was nothing compared to this.

“Does this flight have meal service?” Nathanial asked the attendant before his seat belt was even on.

“Shut it,” Spade ground out, longing to strangle him. If not for him, Denise wouldn’t be a hundred pounds lighter and covered in fur.

“But I have to eat,” Nathanial said. “Stress, pain, fear, hunger, horniness…all those things, if left to build, will trigger the change. I’m already stressed worrying about Web showing up and I’m guessing I can’t get a blow job anytime soon, so I have to calm my hunger cravings, at least.”

Crispin leaned forward in his seat behind them. “You’re telling me Web’s kept you shagged, fed, relaxed, and happy, all while siphoning your blood off to sell?” he asked low, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Bollocks.”

Nathanial turned around, his face hardening from its normal, almost boyish expression.

“No. He kept me fucked whether I wanted it or not, drained to the point of constant weakness, and nothing close to relaxed. But I’m assuming with how he acts, he cares enough about her not to treat her that way.”

“You realize if you’re not telling us how to really get Denise back, you’ll have a very short, awful life,” Cat said with quiet steel in her tone.

Spade agreed, but just in case the lad was telling the truth, he didn’t want Nathanial rattled. Having him shift into Cain-knew-what on an airplane would be disastrous.

“Now’s not the time for this discussion,” he said to both of them. Then, to Nathanial, “I’ll see if there’s anything here you can eat.”

Two hours and all the available snacks on the plane later, they landed in Bucharest. England would be the first place Web looked for them, and America was too far, but Spade’s sire had a home here that was well fortified, secluded, and familiar.

Ian waited outside the airport in the arrivals lane after they collected their bags. He looked at them and his brows rose.

“Where’s Denise? And what are you doing with a bloody cat, Charles? Some sort of mascot for our dear Reaper here?”

“Not another word,” Spade snapped, getting into the car and seating the carrier on his lap.

“Ian, trust me—don’t,” Crispin said before he threw their bags into the boot. Then he climbed in the back, seating Nathanial between them. Cat got in front, tapping her fingers on the dashboard.

“Let’s go, Ian,” she called out impatiently, no doubt still tired even though she’d slept most of the way on the plane.

“I assume someone will tell me what’s going on sooner or later,” Ian remarked as he slid into the driver’s seat. “Until then, it’s a bit rude to treat me like a nosy chauffeur, all things considered.”

Spade’s temper snapped. “You want to know where Denise is?” He held up the carrier so the hissing feline was visible in the rearview mirror. “Here she is! Now drive the car, Ian, or get the fuck out so I can.”

Ian drove, not saying anything else all the way to the house.

As soon as the car came to a stop, Spade got out, yanking Nathanial with him. Alten and Fabian had come out to greet them, but he strode by without a word, heading for the bedroom he’d stayed in months ago when he’d been here to help Crispin. Once there, he shut the door and then rounded on Nathanial.

“All right. How do I bring her back?”

The russet-haired man walked around the room, bending low and checking the corners, under the bed, the windows, and even the bathroom. It took all of Spade’s control not to start beating him when he didn’t answer.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?”

“Checking for places where she could sneak out,” Nathanial answered. “An open window, a crawl space under the cabinet…you want to spend your night looking for your lost kitty girlfriend inside the walls or on the property?”

Spade clenched his fists but kept his voice calm. “All right. If you’re quite finished with that, now what?”

Nathanial, were he smart, would hear the lethal threat behind those two last words and produce speedy results, but he shrugged.

“Get some tuna and a bowl of cream.”

Spade had him against the wall dangling by his throat in the next instant. Only the knowledge that he needed Nathanial, if Denise did transform back, kept Spade from killing him on the spot.

“Take care what you choose to say next, because you will pay for it in blood if it’s another ill-conceived quip.”

“I’m being serious,” Nathanial said with emphasis on each word. His hazel gaze was steady. “You’ve got a terrified woman stuck in an unfamiliar form who’s been carted around in a small box for hours. She’s hungry. Thirsty. Probably claustrophobic, too, which would explain why she’s been hissing and scratching at the cage nonstop. Let her out. Let her eat something, drink something, settle down a little. And then you’re going to pet her until she’s really relaxed.”

That murderous urge was almost overpowering, making a fine tremor run through Spade’s body. His fangs pressed against his lips in silent demand to bury into Nathanial’s throat and rip.

“All right,” Spade said, once his fury died down enough for him to talk. “But if you’re putting me on, you’ll be the next one in that carrier. In pieces. Alten!”

A few moments later, the door opened. “Yes?”

“Ask the kitchen to send up some tuna fish or chicken, plus a bowl of cream. Right away.”

Alten blinked but didn’t question the directive. It wasn’t five minutes before he was back, reeking tuna on a plate and a saucer filled to the brim with cream. This time, though, Cat and Crispin came with him. They filed in