First Drop of Crimson

But no one else really knew Denise. Few had seen what Denise looked like, and of them, many were now dead. Who was to say Denise wasn’t just another sweet snack he was traveling with? As long as he avoided Crispin, Cat, and the rest of their close friends, there was a chance he could find Nathanial without anyone knowing Denise was involved.

Spade didn’t want to calculate the odds of that. No matter that wisdom said he needed to avoid Denise, for more than one reason, he really didn’t have a choice about helping her.

The bathroom door opened and she came out, wear ing a robe with the hotel’s name stitched on it. Spade nodded at the closet, indicating where he’d put her bag. She retrieved some items from it and then stood there, chewing on her lip as if debating whether to speak.

Spade arched a brow. “Unlike some vampires, I can’t read minds, so whatever it is, you’ll have to say it out loud.”

“I want you to know I intend to pay you for your time,” she said, the words coming out in a rush. “And reimburse you for any expenses, like this hotel room.”

First she’d manipulated him, now she insulted him. “No.”

She blinked. “No?”

“I understand your confusion,” Spade said smoothly, “since it seems you don’t hear that word often, but allow me to explain. It means I’m not your employee. It means you’ll need to do what I say in order for me to find your greedy relative, and it means your personal preferences in the matter aren’t my concern. Quite clear now as to its definition?”

She gave him a look that could have cut steel. He noted with mild amusement that her hazel eyes seemed greener with her anger, almost like how a vampire’s eyes got in the early stages before they changed color completely.

“In that case, I’m starving, so I hope this hotel has room service and a good steak,” she replied with barely restrained curtness.

He let out a bark of laughter. “I already ordered something for you.”

As if on cue, a knock sounded on the door. Spade got up, pausing to make sure he sensed only a human on the other side of it, then opened it. A uniformed young man gave him a mechanical smile as he pushed in the cart.

“Where would you like this, sir?”

“Right by her,” Spade said, and shut the door.

He let the lad uncover the dishes and rattle off their contents to Denise, who looked surprised at the variety of items before her. Then when he turned to Spade with a politely expectant expression, Spade hit him with his gaze.

“What are you doing?” Denise gasped.

He ignored her, focused on the pulsating vein that called to him. A quick slide of his fangs into the lad’s neck produced the flow of rich, nurturing blood. Spade waited before swallowing, allowing his mouth to fill from the pumping of the pulse under his lips instead of sucking, forming a seal to prevent any of those red drops from escaping.

Denise stared at him, uncertainty clear on her features. Spade glared at her, hoping she wouldn’t do something foolish, like scream. She didn’t, but her hand came to her mouth as if she was fighting one back.

The gnawing hunger in him eased after his fourth swallow. He drew back, catching the spare leaking drops with his tongue before closing the holes by cutting his thumb on a fang and holding it over them. In seconds, his blood healed the punctures, causing them to vanish from sight.

“You delivered the food and left. Nothing else happened,” Spade said, pressing a twenty into the lad’s palm.

He nodded, that artificial smile returning to his face as the memory of what happened evaporated under the power in Spade’s gaze. “Have a good evening, sir,” he said.

“Thanks so much. I’ll ring when she’s done with the food.”

Spade closed the door. Denise was still staring at him. “You bit him. You didn’t even…you just bit him.”

He shrugged. “You weren’t the only one hungry.”

“But…” She still seemed at a loss for words.

“You lived with Cat and Crispin for over a month; did you never see him feed?”

“He never did it in front of me!” Denise exclaimed, like he’d suggested something preposterous.

Spade rolled his eyes. “You’ll have to get used to it, because I’ve no intention of starving.”

Denise looked down at the cooling food on the tray. “I think I lost my appetite,” she muttered.

He bit back what would have been an annoyed reply. No need to snipe at her when she’d had a truly horrible day.

“Make yourself comfortable in the bed. I’ll sleep in the chair,” he said, pulling off his shirt.

He was undoing his trousers when Denise’s expression stopped him. Right, humans and their silly modesty. It had been a long time since he’d been around average mortals. The ones he associated with were all familiar with a vampire’s lifestyle and habits. He’d have to remember what was appropriate and what wasn’t.

“I dragged you into this,” she said stubbornly. “I’m taking the chair.”

He almost rolled his eyes again. As if he’d allow a woman to stuff herself in a chair while he was stretched out in bed. “No.”

“I’d feel better if—”

“I wouldn’t,” he cut her off. “And I’ll remind you again that since I’m helping you, the least you could do is not argue with me over every little thing.”

Frustration and defiance competed on her features, but she clamped her mouth shut. Good on you, darling. Perhaps this won’t be such a burden after all.

“Sleep well, Denise.”

Chapter Four

She awoke to the sounds of an English accent. For a moment she was confused. Had she left the TV on? Then the events of the previous, nightmarish day came back to her. Paul, murdered. She, branded by a demon. The owner of the accent, a vampire who wanted nothing to do with her, but who was her family’s only hope.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Spade said, closing his cell with a click. “Ordered you breakfast, considering you didn’t touch your food last night.” His mouth curled in a grin. “You’ll be pleased to know you slept through my breakfast. Perhaps now you’ll be able to keep your appetite.”

“You eat the room service employees every time?” Denise asked, shocked.

“Of course. But don’t fret on their behalf. I always tip well.”

A sharp pain in her stomach brought her attention to the cart with the covered dishes and the mouthwatering scent wafting from it. Suddenly ravenous, Denise flung the covers back and went to the cart, flipping off the top of the container closest to her. Pancakes. She picked one up and stuffed it into her mouth, closing her eyes in rapture. So good.

It was gone too soon. She grabbed another one, too hungry to bother with syrup or silverware, and popped it in her mouth. Mmmm. Delicious. More.

She’d just finished the third pancake when she noticed Spade watching her. He glanced at her now-empty plate, then at the untouched silverware, and back to her.

Denise felt a flush heat her face. What was wrong with her? It hadn’t been that long since she’d eaten.

“I, uh, was really hungry,” she stammered.

His mouth quirked. “It would seem so.”

As if to accentuate the point, another pain jabbed her in the stomach, followed by a rumbling, audible