by Cynthia Eden
She couldn’t help it. For fun, she arched a wee bit. Since she wasn’t wearing a bra, she figured it was a fairly good arch.
He swore.
Then his hands were jerking his t-shirt over her head. It smelled like him, that rich masculine scent that she’d already come to like, and his fingers lingered for just a moment as he pulled the soft cotton down over her breasts.
“You…you don’t have bullet holes in you.” His hands flew away from her. He even took a step back. “How is that possible?”
“I’m a crazy fast healer, especially when I have blood like yours.” She glanced down at the shirt. Oh, that just wasn’t going to do. The thing was so long that it fell far past her skirt. So she just grabbed a big section of the shirt and ripped it away. “There. So much better.” The torn material joined her bloody top in the backseat.
She looked at Mick. He was standing statue-still, just staring at her. “Is there a problem?”
“You’re a vampire.”
Savannah laughed. “You are one fine detective.” She looped her arm through his. “Now, let’s go inside, shall we? I think there are some dead bodies waiting for us.”
***
She had a perfect body. Firm, round breasts. Tight nipples. She’d just been standing there, naked from the waist up while a half dozen cops wandered close by.
And she hadn’t cared.
He’d cared. Mick had wanted to cover her up and get her away from everyone and everything else. He wanted her alone. He wanted her safe. He—wanted her.
But then, Mick had been lusting after her ever since she’d first placed her high-heeled foot in his office. And now that she’d bitten him, he wanted her even more. Desire was growing inside of him. A desperate need that he hadn’t felt for another woman. He’d never wanted to take and take and take but she—
“Mick?”
Do the job. He cleared his throat and headed for the double doors up ahead. They were already inside the station. It had been easy enough to get a buddy to give them access. Now they were steps away from entering the medical examiner’s office. At this time of night, no one was on the bottom floor. The place really did feel like a tomb to him.
He typed in the security code for the ME’s office.
“So handy to have you here,” Savannah murmured.
“We’re just lucky they’re slow as hell at updating security codes down here.” But then, most people weren’t real interested in sneaking in to see dead bodies.
He guessed they weren’t most people.
A few moments later, they were inside. The temperature seemed to have dropped. Hell, it always felt cold to him in that place. He headed right for body storage. The lockers waited, just as they always did, and he read the labels on those lockers in order to find the men they needed to see.
When he opened the first locker, a waft of cold air hit him. He pulled out the slab and saw the black body bag that surrounded the victim. “This is Ben Travers.” Moving swiftly, Mick grabbed a pair of gloves and then unzipped that body bag.
Ben Travers was stark-white and still—that unnatural paleness that comes at death. The two marks on his neck stood out in sharp contrast to his pale skin. As he stared at those marks, Mick could have sworn his own neck ached in empathy.
What was it like for you, you poor SOB? Did you feel pleasure right until the end?
“What happened to his chest?” Savannah’s voice was soft. Worried.
His gaze slid down the body. “The ME had to do an autopsy.” There was no missing the giant, Y-shaped incision on the man. The two arms of the big Y ran from each of Ben’s shoulder joints until they met right in the middle of his chest. The bottom of the Y ran down his stomach, disappearing beneath the half-open body bag.
“An autopsy wasn’t necessary,” she said, words sharpening. “It’s obvious the man died from blood loss.”
“Yeah, well, since he only has two tiny puncture wounds on him, I’m guessing the doc wanted to figure out how the hell his blood had been drained.” He turned away from Ben and found the next victim.
He yanked the slab out of the locker, pulled down the body bag’s zipper with a hiss, and found himself looking at another chalk-white victim. A victim with two puncture wounds on his throat.
He checked out both bodies. Sure enough, there were zero signs of defensive wounds. The guys had willingly taken those bites, and hadn’t fought back even when death had been at hand.
Anger simmered within him. His gaze shot to Savannah, and he found her staring—with somewhat dazed eyes—over at Ben’s face. There was definite sadness in her expression. Longing? “Just how involved were you two?” Mick demanded.
Her hand lifted, as if she’d touch the body, but then her fingers fisted. “He was my friend.”
“Lover?”
Her gaze turned to him. Tears glistened in her eyes. “I need to find his killer.”
That hadn’t been an answer.
His head cocked as he studied her. “Is every vampire bite like the one you gave me? Does it always feel like a damn orgasm?”
Her brows shot up. “Um, no. The bite is pleasurable, but not…not quite that good.” Her eyes had widened. “Is that really what it felt like for you?”
He’d already screwed up and said too much. “Why didn’t they fight back? They had to feel themselves growing weaker. Why not try to get away? Why not do something?”
“I don’t know. Yes, they should have felt themselves getting weaker. The instinct to fight would have kicked in.” Savannah shook her head. “This isn’t right.”
Mick leaned over Ben’s body. The victim’s hair was long, blond, thick. He pushed it to the side as he leaned in and tried to get a closer look at those wounds. Mick lifted up the guy’s head and—
What do we have here?
“Vamps only use two teeth for biting, right?” Mick asked.
“Uh, yes, our canines lengthen and cut into the skin.”
His gloved finger pointed to a spot just a bit below the base of the guy’s head. If he hadn’t tried to lift the guy and shove the fellow’s hair out of his way, Mick would have missed that little puncture mark. “How come this vic is sporting three marks?”
Savannah gave a little gasp and hurried toward him. “That’s not a bite mark.”
“No,” he agreed with her on that one. “Looks like a needle mark to me.” A small mark surrounded by a dark, circular bruise. He lowered Ben back on the table and hurried to examine Steve Douglas. Mick didn’t lift Steve up. Instead, he rolled him to the side. The guy’s hair was way shorter and it was easy to spot that needle mark and tiny bruise right away. “Both of them. The killer shoved a needle into them. He drugged them, and that explains why they didn’t fight back.” The poor bastards might not have even been conscious while the vamp fed on them.
“The killer drugged them?”
“Yeah, and let’s see if the ME realized that yet.” He put the bodies back in the freezer and then started flipping through files on the ME’s desk. “Their blood work isn’t back yet, but he’s got an order out for it. The doc will realize soon enough what was given to the vics.”
There was a faint squeak of sound behind him. Mick glanced over his shoulder. Savannah was staring at the closed body lockers.
His stomach knotted as a sudden thought struck him. “Uh, they aren’t going to come back, are they?” He shut the folders and ditched his gloves.
Savannah tossed a glance over her shoulder. “Back?”
“Yeah, as in…rising from the dead. Being all undead. That is the vamp term, right?”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t work like that.”
Then how does it work?
Savannah stiffened. “Someone’s coming,” she said suddenly. “A person just got off the elevator and is headed this way.”
Hell. He’d gotten access to the building from a buddy, but if another cop found him in a secure area like this…with Savannah…can’t explain that easily. Especially if she decided to
vamp out on anyone.
He hit the lights, plunging them into darkness, and he grabbed her. Mick yanked her toward the storage closet on the right, and the door to that closet closed behind them just as he heard the click of the ME’s office door opening.
“Mick—” Savannah whispered.
He covered her mouth with his, stopping that sound. It had been an instinctive move. Crazy. Definitely not planned. He’d just needed her to be silent.
He’d just needed—
Her.
Because the instant his mouth touched hers, all other thought left. Her lips were soft and sweet, her tongue slid against his, her taste inflamed him and he wanted more. He pushed her back against the wall, caged her with his body and lust drummed through his veins. Her breasts pressed against his chest. Her nipples were tight. He wanted to taste them. Mick wanted to taste every single inch of her. He craved her, a need too frantic to be denied, a need too desperate to be ignored and—
Savannah pulled her mouth from his. “The cleaning lady is gone. She only stepped inside for a moment.”
His breath sawed out. “What?”
“The cleaning lady. I could tell it was her. The cleaners she’d used today clung to her, and—”
He kissed her again. Because he was still desperate for Savannah. They were in a closet in the ME’s office, for shit’s sake, and he wanted to jump her. He needed to get his control back.
Why isn’t that happening?
Was she doing something to him? Had the bite made him want her this way?
He caught her lower lip between his teeth. Nipped. One bite deserves another.
Mick felt her shudder against him.
If I don’t step back, I will take her right here.
And that wasn’t him. Hell, this was hardly a romantic scene. More like a nightmare one. He sucked in a deep breath, tasted her, but still managed—finally—to back away. Then he cracked open the door.
“She’s gone,” Savannah said, sounding breathless. “I told you—”
His head turned toward her. He couldn’t see her well in the darkness, even though she was right next to him, but he got the feeling she could see him perfectly. “I’m guessing vamps have enhanced senses.”
“Yes.” A pause. “I would have explained who she was sooner, but…” Her words trailed away. “I was rather enjoying myself.”
He’d been enjoying himself, too. But now they needed to get the hell out of there. Mick laced his fingers with hers. “Come on, let’s go. Before someone else decides to stroll in on us.”
He’d learned something important at the ME’s office. Their supernatural killer…he was using a very human method to weaken his prey. A smart vamp who didn’t want his victims to fight back.
That made for one very deadly bastard on the streets of Chicago.
***
Will Mato had never been happier to see the end of his shift. Sure, Intoxication was still packed with patrons, but he was done. Someone else could clean up that night. He was getting the hell out of there.
He grabbed his tips, closed the register, and was running out the front door before anyone could even think of ordering another round from him. The bouncer waved him away as Will hurried outside, and a few moments later, he was on his motorcycle, ready to rev the hell out of there.
Maybe it was time for a new scene. Chicago…it was dead to him.
He reached for the helmet and started to lower it over his head.
But the helmet was snatched away.
“Hey, what the hell—” Will began.
“I saw you talking to the blonde tonight.” A man stood there. Tall, dark-haired. Big. Just like the joker from before. Only…
This isn’t the PI.
“What did you tell her?”
A cold chill sank beneath Will’s skin.
The man pressed, “Did you tell her about me?”
Screw answering him. Will revved that engine and shot forward. Only…the motorcycle kept going. He didn’t. Because that big sonofabitch had clothes-lined him. The guy’s arm had flung up, right in front of Will’s neck. That attack sent Will’s body flying backwards, off the bike, even as the motorcycle shot forward and crashed into a parked car up ahead.
Will lurched to his feet, gasping. He couldn’t seem to draw in a deep enough breath. He hurt…
His attacker sighed. “Now look what you’ve done. That crash will be attracting attention soon. And I just wanted a private chat.”
Will turned to run.
But the guy grabbed him by the nape of his neck and squeezed. Darkness swam before Will’s eyes. His hands flew up and he tried to shove the guy back, but his attacker was just too strong.
A supernatural strength.
“Don’t fight it, man, there’s no point,” the guy told him as Will felt himself start to lose consciousness. His grip is too tight. Too hard.
Will slumped forward, but he didn’t hit the ground. Will felt his body being hoisted up. “Anybody asks,” his attacker said, “and I’ll just tell them you had too much to drink.”
Will tried to speak, tried to call out for help, but he couldn’t talk.
And he was pretty sure that he was about to die.
Chapter Four
“Dawn will be here soon,” Savannah said.
At her words, Mick turned toward her. They were in her home—an old, converted warehouse on the outskirts of Chicago. After they’d gotten to the safety of her home, Savannah had washed the last of the blood off her body and changed into more comfortable clothes. Now she was ready for Mick.
Only he wasn’t speaking. He was just staring at her. Hard.
She fought her smile. “Is something wrong?” She’d just finished her shower and gotten the fresh clothes. His reaction was actually rather sweet.
“You sleep…in that?”
He was precious. “No, Mick. I sleep in a full-on dress and fancy shoes.” She gave a little eye roll as she headed toward him. “Of course, I sleep in this. It’s called a negligee, by the way. And guess when you’re supposed to wear it?” She leaned close and put her hand on his chest. “When you’re in bed.”
He swallowed.
She hoped he’d kiss her again. Hoped he’d grab her and hold tight.
He didn’t, but his body did tense beneath her touch. A man with control. She should be impressed. She wasn’t. He was really slowing down her timeline. And to think, she’d picked out her sexiest negligee, just for him. A few bits of silk, nothing more.
And he wasn’t even trying to touch her. Insulting. She looked at him and wanted. Ached. She’d thought he felt the same way, especially after that fun little side trip to the supply closet. But she was standing before him, in her full-on seduction mode, and the guy wasn’t budging.
If she couldn’t hear the rapid pounding of his heart, if she didn’t see the way his nostrils flared as if he were desperate to inhale her scent, she’d actually be hurt. Instead, she was challenged.
“I want to know the truth about you,” Mick said.
“The truth? Sounds boring.”
“I doubt anything about you is boring.”
“Now you’re just trying to flirt with me.”
He growled. She loved it when he did that. The man had a dark side, she’d bet her undead existence on it. Now, if she could just get him to let that dark side out so they could play.
“Tell me about vampires…how does it work? How does someone become…like you?”
She shrugged and slid her hand down his chest. “Certain people are born different. Not wrong, despite what you may be told by others. Just…different. And that difference is enough to convert them, if they’re bitten by a vampire.”
His brow furrowed. She wanted to smooth that furrow away. Strange. She shook her head, trying to banish that thought.
“What do you mean, different?”
“Slightly different DNA. Sort of a throwback, if you will. To another time. When more monsters walked the earth.” If he wanted an explanation, she�
�d give him a quick and dirty version. “But some people are actually born as vampires. They never die. They grow up normally and then, when they reach a certain age, things stop for them. No more physical changes. Forever young. Just with a little blood appetite.”
“Are you one of those people? Were you born this way?”
“Yes.” Her shoulders rolled back. “See, I told you, boring. I am the way I was always meant to be.”
The furrow was still there. His eyes were narrowed, too, as if he were trying to puzzle through things. “The ones with the different DNA. They get bitten, and they just—what? Bam, are vampires?”
“No.” Things were never that easy. “Surely you’ve heard some vampire legends? Three bites. Three is the charm. Because it takes that long for vampirism to activate in the body.”
“What the hell? Are you saying there is some kind of venom or something in the vamp bite? And the more a person gets bit, the more likely he is to sprout fangs?”
“I never said anything about venom.” Was he being deliberately difficult? “We’re not cobras. The bite activates dormant DNA. It takes three bites for that activation to be permanent, and like I said, it only works on certain individuals. For everyone else, nothing at all happens.”
He nodded.
Her gaze slid to the window. The sun would be rising soon. She could already feel it pulling at her. Weakening her. Being weak sucked.
Especially when she was so used to being strong.
“How do you know if someone can change? I mean, are you just blindly biting folks and hoping no one sprouts fangs?”
His words made her heart ache. “I’m lonely, Mick.”
“What?”
“I think it would be very nice to have a companion. Someone who didn’t mind spending eternity with me.” She laughed. “Or someone who was just up for a weekend of fun. Someone who knows all of my…truths…and can handle them. I think that would be very nice.” She turned away from him, suddenly very, very tired.
“Savannah…”
“You feel it,” she said, without looking back, “when someone has the potential to change. It’s instinctive. Primal. A vampire knows—knows with the very first bite. So the vampire and the human then have the choice—keep going or…” She hit the button on the wall. Her heavy interior shutters automatically closed, locking out the light. “Or walk away.” She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Want to know how many people I’ve changed in the last hundred years?”
