by Mara Leigh
Rock rubs my hand with his thumb. “I’ll keep her safe. From now on, Selina doesn’t leave my apartment.”
“Rock.” I bite my tongue. I don’t want to complain, but the idea of never leaving his apartment? It’s been hard enough only leaving under supervision to feed or come to these training sessions. If I can’t leave the apartment, I’m still Xavier’s prisoner, even if I’m with Rock.
“And that’s not all,” Malcolm adds.
“Holy hell,” Grayson says. “What the fuck else?”
Malcolm straightens. “That vamp killed again, about a week ago. We just heard. This time it doesn’t even look like they fed, just tore out the human’s throat and left the body to bleed.”
Everyone shivers, shocked at the brutality.
“What’s that got to do with Selina?” Rock asks.
“Nothing. Not directly. But the cops have upped their vampire hunting patrols. Until this killer’s caught, none of us are safe.”
“The latest victim was another young woman,” Astrid says. “Her body was found in a park.”
I shudder.
“What is it?” Rock asks, kneeling to wrap his arm around me.
“It’s just all so…” I shake my head, not willing to tell even Rock what I’m thinking.
My dream. In my dream I drank from a young woman on a park bench. It’s a coincidence but still creepy.
“Don’t worry, princess. If the cops don’t catch this vamp, Astrid’s team will. After that, the cops will dial their vampire killing rate back down to normal.” Gray lays his hand on my shoulder. “And as for Xavier and Pike, Rock and I will keep you safe.”
His words are comforting, but I know he’s making a promise he has no way to keep.
Chapter 22
Colton
O’Malley’s, the bar across the street from me, is quiet. Not one human, never mind vampire, has come or gone from the bar in the twenty minutes I’ve been watching. The Vampire Task Force got a tip from an anonymous female caller that this place serves vamps. Disgusting.
I can’t imagine anything more despicable than humans associating with those hideous creatures. This city won’t be safe until every last vamp is staked, and one of them will be the bloodsucker that killed my sister.
My partner, Sanjay, and I checked out this bar when the tip first came in. That night, we handed out cards, questioned the staff and customers. We got nothing, but since I’m off duty and the bar’s on my way home, I figured I’d give it another shot. No stone unturned.
Crossing the street, I check the stakes stashed in the lining of my leather jacket. Like any police constable, I can’t carry my firearm when I’m off duty, but sharp wooden stakes are another matter. No messy paperwork or internal affairs investigations when a cop stakes a bloodsucker. Just a commendation from the mayor.
Inside the bar, a rhythmic song, maybe old-school Motown, thumps through the air, loud enough to add atmosphere but not a total conversation killer. The place isn’t fancy, it’s got a friendly vibe, and it’s hard to imagine that the owner of a place like this would knowingly serve bloodsucking monsters.
Quickly scanning, I note nine patrons. A group of five men in matching red and white baseball uniforms debate the Raptors’ chances this season. An older couple, the male Asian, female Caucasian, sit in a booth, both looking down at their phones instead of each other. Two women in their midforties, both with fake blond hair and dressed like they’re still twenty, perch atop bar stools, engaging the bartender—a tall, First Nations man who’s half-heartedly grinning at the flirting women. He looks up at me and nods.
Nothing suspicious.
The waitress, a curvaceous Caucasian woman, steps in from the hallway at the back. Her black T-shirt, worn a few inches above jeans, has a faded rock band logo. She gives off a biker chick vibe, but crossed with something else—mafia wife? I grin inwardly.
Looking down as she walks, she adjusts whatever is gathering her unnaturally black hair onto the top of her head and nearly crashes into me.
“Hey. Sorry.” She smiles. “You.” She tips her head to the side. “You’ve been in here before, right?”
I nod.
“Came back to see me, I hope?” Her eyebrows rise subtly to deliver the not-so-subtle message that she’s flirting. Either because she’s interested or because she’s hoping to get a better tip. In spite of my police training, I’m not good at telling the difference.
“You caught me.”
“Sit anywhere you like,” she says. “What can I get you?” I’ve forgotten her name and she’s older than I remembered. Or maybe her over-tanned complexion directly under a light just makes her seem older.
I step toward the bar and lean against it as she walks in behind. “Got a half-decent craft ale on tap?”
“Hoppy or malty?”
“Malty.”
She smiles. “I’ve got just the thing. Kev, a pint of Caramel Craze for my friend here.”
The bartender nods and leaves his admirers for a moment to grab a chilled glass and pull the beer.
I take a seat at a table close to the back hallway where I can take in the entire room. This really isn’t the kind of place that vampires frequent. It couldn’t be a more normal-looking neighborhood waterhole if it tried.
“Let me know what you think.” The waitress sets down my beer. “I’ll get you something else if you don’t like it.” Her fingers, tipped with chipped navy nail polish, rest on my table as she waits for me to taste the beer.
“It’s good. Thanks.” If nothing else, this visit will yield a good drink. The waitress starts to leave.
“Hey.”
She turns back.
“Got a minute?” I gesture toward the empty chair at my table.
Smiling, she pulls out the chair and sits.
“What can I do you for?” She leans forward. “You looking for company?”
“Served any vampires tonight?”
She blinks—hard. A clear reaction, but I can’t be positive what it means. Not yet. My question was blunt, but her reaction switched my cop instincts on to high. Is she the one who called in the anonymous tip? Or is she the one who serves vamps?
“Vampires?” Her voice is tight. “Ha! None tonight. Why? You into that kind of thing? Kinky.”
I smile, hoping to keep her talking. “I’m serious. There’s been an increase in vampire attacks in the city.”
“Really?” She shivers. “Shit… Sounds like I’d better keep my eyes open.”
I nod. “We suspect the attacks could be the work of one vampire, but it’s hard to know when you’re dealing with monsters.”
She leans back. “That’s horrifying.”
“Sure is.” I narrow my eyes. “And when I find the creature, I’ll stake him myself.”
“How brave.” She’s teasing me.
Cupping my pint of beer, I lean forward. “You sure you haven’t seen anything? Any customers who only come in after dark?”
“We’ve got lots of those. It is a bar.”
I take another sip of the beer. “Any customers who act suspicious?”
She shakes her head, but her posture’s tense. She’s holding something back. But what?
“Have you ever met a vampire?” she asks.
Frowning, I shake my head. “No, you?”
“How would I know? I mean—how would I know for sure?” She’s acting frightened at the idea, emphasis on acting. She’s not really frightened, but I can’t figure out if she’s joking or hiding something.
“Do vampires wear capes?” she asks, wide-eyed. “Do they have long, fanged overbites? Widow’s peaks?” Clearly she thinks this is funny.
“Vampires aren’t always obvious.” I tamp down my irritation. “Bloodsuckers can hide amongst us. That’s what makes them the single biggest threat to humanity.”
She leans back in her chair. “Even for a cop, you sure seem to hate vampires a lot.”
“One killed my kid sister.”
Her expression com
pletely shifts. “Oh, I’m so sorry. When? How did it happen?”
My throat tightens. “Four years ago. She was only nineteen.”
“That’s terrible. Did they catch the vampire who did it?”
I shake my head. Every time a bloodsucker gets staked I hope we’ve taken out the right one, but the monster who killed a woman in the park last week is the same one who killed Shelly. I’m sure of it.
“Do vampires kill often?” she asks me.
“More often than people think.”
The front door to the bar opens and a group of three enters. The first is a huge man, Caucasian, with blond hair and a serious five-o’clock shadow. If memory serves, he’s the owner. The next, also a Caucasian male, is well dressed with dark, side-swept hair, sideburns and…I suck in a breath…the third person who enters is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen.
It’s more than her beauty I’m drawn to—although that is spectacular—it’s more like she radiates goodness. I want to talk to her more than I’ve ever wanted anything, and the pull nearly lifts me off my chair. But the two men she came in with flank her protectively as they walk toward the booth at the back, not far from my table.
When they sit, the waitress notices them and jumps to her feet. “Hey boss,” she says. She tries to send the big man a message with her eyes, but I can’t figure out what she’s trying to say.
“Hey, Chelle,” the owner responds. “Quiet night?”
“Pretty quiet,” she answers. “Whiskeys all round?”
“Champagne for me, luv.” The elegant, dark-haired man has a British accent.
“Champagne?” The waitress laughs. “Sorry, dude. White wine spritzer is as close we get to that in here.”
“Ask Kev to open a bottle of the Okanagan chardonnay,” the big man says, then turns to the other guy. “I think you’ll like it.”
This banter about drinks plays in the background as my attention stays tuned to the woman. The rest of the bar has gone into soft focus while she remains crystal clear. Her light purple hair suits her so well I can almost believe she was born with it, and her pale skin seems to glow. Icy blue eyes flash with intelligence and humor, and although her physique is slight, making her seem vulnerable, her posture hints at confidence and strength.
I’m in love.
Laughing at myself, I shake my head. I don’t believe in love at first sight, and even if it might exist for some people, it won’t ever for me. I’m not that kind of guy. I’ve never been in love, never mind at first sight. Plus, I don’t have time for dating. Not while there are vampires on the loose.
But still, I can’t help staring, wondering if one of the two men is her boyfriend. They’re both paying her plenty of attention. Too much attention if you ask me. The British one has pressed his leg against hers under the table and the big man looks like he’ll kill anyone who comes near her.
The waitress, Chelle, sets two glasses of whiskeys down for them—they look like triples—and a glass of wine. The beautiful girl must be a regular if the waitress knows her order. Maybe I should be a regular, too.
Chelle drops the tray to her side as she turns away from the table, and her eyes narrow. She looks pissed. At what?
I signal her with my fingers.
She nods and her expression changes. “Another beer?”
“That would be great. Thanks.” I hadn’t planned on having a second, but as non-vampy as this place seems, I still think Chelle could be hiding something, and if I’m honest with myself, the purple-haired girl’s arrival made the place a hundred times more interesting.
“Hey, Chelle?” I touch the waitress’s arm to stop her from heading straight to the bar after she brings my beer.
“You remembered my name?” Her ample chest expands as she smiles. She cocks one hip and tips her head to the side.
Shit. Now she thinks I’m flirting. But there’s no point in correcting her.
She leans onto the table, pushing her chest forward and arching her back. “Anything else I can do for you? Anything at all?”
Her meaning is clear, and I grin, hoping to use this rapport to get her to open up. It’s not the first time I’ve used my looks to get better cooperation from a witness or informant. It never seems right, using people like that, and feels even more gross than normal tonight, because the purple-haired girl could be watching us, and for some reason I care what she thinks about me.
“Thanks for listening earlier,” I say softly. “About my sister.”
“Sure, honey.” Her hand slides on top of mine. “You can talk to me anytime. I’m a real good listener. Good at other stuff, too.” Her eyes fill with lust.
I take my hand from under hers and pull out my card. “If you hear or see anything suspicious, even if you just have a hunch…call me. Anytime. Okay?”
“Anytime?” Chelle eyes me hungrily as she takes my card, and her teeth scrape her lower lip. She’s definitely got wrong idea about why I gave her my card, and I’m starting to think she’s not capable of hiding anything, never mind vampires.
But one way or another, I’m going to come back to this bar.
Vampire rumors aside, I need a chance to talk to that purple-haired woman, preferably when those men aren’t boxing her in. And if there’s even a small chance that vampires do come in here, I need to protect her.
Chapter 23
Selina
“That guy’s staring at you.” Rock gestures with his head toward the table not ten feet away from us. “Ever since we came in.”
“No, he’s not.” I glance over, and the man immediately looks down to take a sip of his beer. “Maybe he’s been looking at Gray.” I nudge the vampire’s knee under the table. “Gray’s pretty hot.”
“Why thank you, princess.” Gray slides his hand along my upper thigh and my body involuntarily leans against his.
The man watching me from the next table is incredibly good-looking. I’m seated with two men who both make my body sing, yet I can’t help noticing this stranger’s short blond hair that hints at curls on top, and his square-jawed face and clear skin that make him seem boyish, even though his physique is all man.
When I first came in, he smiled at me, and his broad and dimpled expression was such a genuine exhibition of joy I wondered for an instant if he knew me. But I’ve never met anyone with his clean-cut handsomeness before. I’d remember.
“Do you think…” I glance over at him again and our eyes meet for a moment. “Could he be working for King Xavier?”
“I keep telling you,” Gray nudges me. “That asshole’s not a king.”
“Regardless. Do you think Xavier and Pike might have humans working for them? Looking for me?”
Rock shakes his head. “No. The guy’s a cop. He’s the one who gave me his card last week. Colton something.”
A cop. My belly tightening, I suck in a sharp breath. Can this Colton guy tell what Gray and I are? Is he just waiting for the chance to stake us?
“Why do you think he came back here?” I ask Rock.
“Probably invited by Chelle,” Gray says. “She looks like she’s ready to eat him.”
I glance toward the bar and realize that Gray is right. Chelle is staring at the cop with obvious interest. Then again, it’s hard to imagine any straight woman not wanting to look at this objectively good-looking man—as much and as often as possible.
Even Kev’s barfly groupies are glancing over their shoulders at the man, whispering conspiratorially to each other. Kev doesn’t seem to mind that he’s temporarily lost the attention of his fan club.
The cop gestures for Chelle and she rushes to his table, an inviting smile on her lips. When he asks for his bill, Chelle looks disappointed.
“Thanks,” she says after accepting what looks like a generous tip.
“And give me a call if—”
“Definitely.” She leans toward him. “In fact, I get off in an hour. If you stick around—”
“Sorry,” he says through a smile that now seems forced, uncom
fortable. “Got work tomorrow. Past my bedtime.”
“Bedtime sounds good to me.” Chelle raises her eyebrows.
His cheeks flush, making him seem even more boyish, and it’s beyond adorable. This man looks like he just walked off a film set where he’s playing the guy with the heart of gold, the one who gets the girl and then wins the big game.
I hope he doesn’t get together with Chelle. She’d eat him alive.
“Have to go.” He stands, and I take in the full expanse of Colton.
Broad shouldered and chested, his torso tapers down to his solid waist and hips, then his thighs press out hard against denim. His body screams football player, or some kind of athlete, and it’s easy to imagine the muscles under his T-shirt and jeans, even though he’s wearing a leather jacket over top.
As he walks toward the exit, the back of him is even more impressive. Solid mounds of glutes above well-defined hamstrings, which flex as he walks and lead down to well-shaped calves.
“Earth to Selina.” Gray draws my attention.
I smile, embarrassed that he caught me gawking. Possibly drooling. “Sorry. I’m just worried that there was a cop in here.”
“I’ll ask Chelle what he wanted.” Rock stands and crosses to the bar.
“You okay, princess?” Gray strokes my thigh
My sex contracts and I realize I’m wet. But I can’t tell whether it’s because my lover’s hand is on my thigh or because I was imagining the cop’s naked body. Probably both.
Gray presses his lips close to my ear. “Fancy a quickie?” His long finger flicks high on my thigh and my insides contract again.
Rock strides back toward us and the bench groans as he slides into the booth. “Cop was in off duty. Says he lives around here. Chelle says he hates vampires even more then most cops, if that’s possible. She didn’t tell him anything.”
“How do we know that?” My chest tightens. “Chelle hates me.”
Rock tips his head to the side. “What makes you say that?”
