“You in for the night already?” he asked Kim.
The Cornishes were protective of her. Their grown kids were halfway across the country, having stayed on the East Coast instead of following their retired parents to Sin City. Kim was their little project, so she did her best to hide her bad-girl activities.
“I’m in,” she said, thinking that she had a lot of League work to do. She wasn’t going to be getting any information about the drainer vampire from Stephen tonight. More importantly, he was probably done with her—at least, for the time being. But if she’d succeeded in any way, he’d be back.
Hopefully.
“No shenanigans for this young blood,” Mr. Cornish said. “Miss Kim’s usually out later.”
“Just tired.” A convenient yawn came upon Kim. “I’m not a party animal like you all.”
“I hope you’re not catching anything.” Mrs. Cornish wrinkled her brow. “They say there’s something going around.”
Is there ever, Kim thought.
Mr. Cornish tweaked his wife’s pink cheek. “Leave her to her business, Caroline.” Then he winked at Kim. “Don’t wait up for us.”
“Oh, I won’t. Tonight, I don’t have the energy to light up the town until the break of dawn.”
As Kim raised her hand in a goodbye, she couldn’t help noticing how Mr. Cornish turned back to his wife. They smiled at each other, fools in love. It caught Kim, keeping her from leaving.
Smitten for more than fifty years, she thought as the elderly couple held hands and rounded the corner toward the elevators. Kim couldn’t imagine ever finding that.
She unlocked her door and, even though she tried to empty her mind, what she’d said to Stephen earlier niggled.
“Not all of us are out for picket fences and a family in the suburbs,” she’d said, and she’d meant it, too. Kim wasn’t the type to end up like the Cornishes. After the first bite, the life of a free bird had really appealed to her. It seemed to go well with a sexual awakening.
Right? Wasn’t she happy with how she was living now?
She thought of why Lori had called her to that coffee shop where she’d died. Thought of the discussion they were going to have about the unexpected pregnancy that single-girl, Lori, had been debating about ending.
Thought of how she, prebite Kim, had been desperately trying to talk Lori into keeping the baby.
Pushing all of it away, Kim entered her abode and tossed her bag and coat on the kitchen table. Besides everything else, she had a column to write. Even though she wasn’t going to record this latest encounter with Stephen, she needed to update her readers about last night’s draining victim.
In her bedroom, Kim changed into something more comfortable—a cotton nightgown with flowers that reminded her of her parents’ massive front yard on the outskirts of Nashville. Then she opened the window to let in the warm night air, settling in front of her laptop, which was situated at a frail desk. There, among her framed Witchblade comic posters and a black futon that had seen better days, she got busy, first calling Troy’s cell for an update from Mystique. When he didn’t answer, she tried Darlene. Same deal. Figuring they probably couldn’t hear their phones over the obnoxious club music, Kim turned her attention to her column. She’d give her League partners another go soon.
She didn’t know how much time had gone by; being on the computer had a way of squeezing the hours into minutes. But when she heard her name whispered, like an echo in her ears, she started in her chair, her eyes flying to a clock that told her it was past midnight.
“Kimberly,” the voice said again.
Her body recognized the low timbre of it, the seductive accent. Skin prickling, she turned toward her window, hands gripping the edge of her desk.
She found him there, waiting patiently, bobbing while floating on black air. Her heart lurched at the sight of his handsome face, which was lit only by the dim light from her apartment.
His regular face, thank God, not the nightmare he’d adopted just before flying away earlier.
“Stephen?” She didn’t know what else to say.
Her gaze traveled to his neck, where the pink kiss of her hickey glowed against pale flesh. It was already healing.
In spite of herself, her belly clenched with desire.
For a moment, he seemed enraptured by her, but then his jaw tightened.
The memory of his terrible vampire face kept her from inviting him inside, even though she was dying to do it.
He continued floating. “While we were…occupied outside Mystique tonight, another victim was attacked inside the club.”
“Another? Oh, crap.”
“I could have found the culprit, if…”
He trailed off, and Kim knew exactly why. She was feeling the same way, too. If they hadn’t been so engaged outside Mystique, another draining might not have happened. Stephen might have been there to interfere.
It occurred to her that maybe this was the reason Troy and Darlene weren’t answering their phones. Were they hot on the trial of the draining vampire? Or…
Kim swallowed. Was the culprit maybe even right outside her window, waiting to be invited inside? Yes, Stephen had denied being the drainer, but he could be lying. He could’ve gone into Mystique after he’d left her so abruptly.
She gathered her guts and made like a good investigator. “I have to wonder about your proximity to this newest event.”
A tight smile didn’t offer any reassurance. “You’re asking, once again, if I am the rogue?”
“Yup, I’m asking.”
He seemed disappointed that she’d inquired, seemed relieved that she didn’t trust him. Dammit, it was too hard to understand him.
“I’m hunting down this rogue,” he said, “just as you are hunting me and my kind. My family has tasked me with stopping this mad vampire before he does irrevocable damage beyond what he inflicts on his victims.”
“You’re…” She stood awkwardly, her knees jellied. “You’re a slayer?”
“No, I’m a vampire who must censure one who has gone against his own breed. I’m the one chosen by his master to see that we remain safely hidden.”
She wanted to believe him, she really did. But was that smart?
Yeah, Kim thought. Brilliant question now.
“Kimberly,” he whispered.
His tone had changed into that dreamy film of seduction she couldn’t fight off. Wouldn’t fight off.
Stephen held his hand to the window frame. “Let me in and we’ll put an end to these attacks. We were interrupted from doing so earlier when I came to you.”
And he had obviously reconsidered and tracked her down for another attempt at doing his own job.
Her common sense made one last play to resist, but her body was already halfway toward the window. “How do you plan to put an end to all this?”
He laughed, deep and trustworthy. Sexier than anything she could ever dream up.
“You’ll tell me everything about what you know from your League, and I’ll continue from there. Our rogue leaves no scent, no trail for me to follow from Mystique. Unlike you, none of the victims recall anything about their attacks—at least, according to news reports, since I haven’t the luxury of approaching them. There are no leads beyond your League.”
Compelled, willing, she opened the window all the way, and he eased inside, coming to a negligent stance on her carpet.
“No one saw you out there?” she asked, her mind beginning to clear.
“I tracked any traces of humanity, and sensed no one about.”
When he stood next to her, his nostrils flared, his eyes going that sharp green she could translate now. He was turned on, maybe even yearning for a new high that only she could give him. At least, she wished.
Then, as if chastising himself, he stepped away, creating distance. The friction of their tension left only a memory of heat between them, and she felt robbed of it.
He wandered to her computer, frowned, then touched the CPU. The screen w
ent blank, sending her column bye-bye.
Kim bolted forward. “Hey!”
“I would appreciate your discretion in our dealings, Kimberly.”
“Man, if you erased my hard drive, I might be angry enough to stake you.” Or to give him another hickey.
“What you know about this case—and me, in particular—must never be revealed.”
“I wasn’t writing about…you.” Weird. She was blushing. When had she developed that talent?
A strange look branded his expression, too. Part bewilderment, part…she wasn’t sure, but she thought it might be tenderness.
The possibility shocked her. Scared her. It wasn’t a component of the fantasy. Just completion, orgasmic oblivion. She didn’t need anything besides that.
“Kimberly,” he said softly, “if vampires are discovered by society at large, it would mean the end to our freedom. We would run under the threat of persecution, I’ve told you this before. Is this what you want for us? For…”
He turned back to the computer as if to shut himself up, but she easily completed his sentence.
For him. Is that what she wanted for him?
Before now, she hadn’t really considered that. Stephen wasn’t…quite real. Even though she’d insisted he was all man, he wasn’t truly human to her. He was a dream to pursue, a goal.
But now…Now she realized he was a sentient creature who had to survive like anyone else. And her amateur hunting act had the power to hurt him.
It was like realizing Dungeons & Dragons was reality—that you could control a whole world with a game board. The League’s activities could have more impact than she’d ever thought possible.
“Are you asking me to stop investigating after I’ve told you all I know?” she asked.
He looked up from the computer, the answer naked on his face. Yes, he was asking.
Across the room, a picture sat in a place of honor on the counter. Lori, her short red hair tousled from a day in the sun, her smile infectious. Her big sister. Her idol while she was growing up.
“You don’t know what you’re asking.” Kim couldn’t tear her gaze away from the image, the tragedy. “There’re things I need to know, Stephen. Things I can’t find in fiction or movies or rumors. I don’t ‘hunt’ for the League. I do it for myself.”
But why? she thought. Why the hell was she turning to him?
He watched her intently, but she didn’t feel the dizziness that usually accompanied a vampire’s attempt at hypnosis. Then, his gaze softened, as if in sympathy.
“What could I possibly tell you, Kimberly? I have no answers. None of us do.”
His words were like pointed thrusts into her heart, and she sank to the floor, following the drag of her disappointment.
She hadn’t known until this second how much she’d depended on getting answers from him—answers about what was waiting for all of them after the sun fell over their bodies, answers about whether there was any hope for them in the end.
As she lowered her head, she lost sight of Lori’s picture.
Lost sight of everything except Stephen.
AT KIMBERLY’S disheartening reaction, Stephen darted forward, though he didn’t know what he would do.
Her hitched breath revealed her own surprise at his impulsive reaction.
As he composed himself, he thought about what he had just sensed about this woman—a hint of what lay behind her need to hunt. Somehow, he knew it had nothing to do with destroying vampires—not intentionally, at least.
The mystery of her grew deeper, pulling at the ever-thickening tie that brought him back to her again and again.
Earlier, after leaving Kimberly outside Mystique in the garden area, Stephen had gone to the nightclub only to find nothing. That is, until reports of a woman lying in a construction site near the Strip filtered into his consciousness.
Heedlessly, driven by anger at the rogue as well as himself, Stephen had flown there to track his enemy, but had held off because of the police activity. With alert humans near, it would have been nigh impossible for him to perform his own detecting.
He had to keep his wits about him if he wished to succeed in this task. And he had to succeed, or else all vampires might pay for his failure. He had to react with cool, measured logic from this point on, not hot-blooded instinct.
Fegan wouldn’t be happy at all. Then again, Stephen didn’t give a toss. He wasn’t doing this for the approval of his master. He didn’t require it.
As Kimberly gritted her jaw and wiped the tears from her face—as in control as he expected her to be—Stephen distanced himself. Her emotion moved him and he couldn’t countenance that. Still, he fought the urge to touch her, to comfort her. The fact that she was wearing an innocent nightgown sprigged with flowers nearly undid him, as well. The paradox of the woman who had naughtily seduced him earlier and the softer version of this Kimberly moved him.
How could he have forgotten that first bite with her?
He knew. She had gained confidence from their initial encounter, and that was why he couldn’t bring himself to stay away from her now. She was strong, bold, soft. Fascinating.
“Shoot,” she said from her sitting position, clearly hating the tears, “crying isn’t doing any good.”
He wanted to tell her that tears were a gift, that caring enough to weep should be treasured. To a vampire such as him, it was rare to be affected enough to show emotion.
When she looked up at him with those sad eyes, he almost lost hold of himself. Something inside of him jerked and twisted with light before the darkness snuffed it out again.
Her phone rang, and he turned his back on her, unable to bear one more moment. He heard her scramble up from the floor, then fumble with the communication device.
He couldn’t quite decipher the bit his hearing could catch.
“Hello? Troy? Jeez, I tried to call you earlier but…Emergency? I can’t…This is a bad connection. What?” She was quiet for a few seconds. Then, the words gushed out of her. “Where are you? Is she doing okay? Oh, God…Troy? Tr—”
She slammed the phone down and he turned to find her dashing toward a bedroom, her nightdress billowing out behind her.
He followed, lingering in the doorway.
She was jerking a tank top out of a drawer, her face a riot of devastation at whatever news she had just heard. Without paying attention to him, she tugged off her nightgown, revealing her body in all its glory. He told himself to look away.
But…no. He wasn’t able to.
Those full breasts, that flat stomach, the long legs. The pale, smooth skin…
His fangs emerged, pulsing in time to his cock. Stephen fought himself, averting his eyes, but that didn’t erase the fragrance of her skin, the blood thudding just below the surface of her flesh.
“I’ve got to go,” Kimberly said.
“I have a feeling this concerns vampires.” He cleared his throat of its debris. “If not, I can help with any…”
She had stopped dressing, and he chanced a look at her. She was garbed in a gray tank top and faded jeans. One boot was on and the other off, the shoe hanging in her hand as she measured him with a haunted gaze.
“Any private matters,” he finished, mouth dry.
She kept staring at him, and he could not help thinking that she was debating the wisdom of sharing the call’s contents. Finally, she continued putting on her boot, stomping into it.
“You’re going to find out, anyway.” Stomp. “One of the League…my friend…Darlene, she…” Kimberly stomped again, but her boot was already on. She stood, hands on hips, calming herself. “Darlene was the victim in Mystique tonight. They’ve got her at the E.R.”
Without hesitation, Stephen left the doorway.
“Wait!” Kimberly yelled, catching up to him and taking hold of his coat.
“You stay here. I’ll find a way to talk to this Darlene, to look into her mind and try to discover what she saw.”
Kimberly laughed, and it wasn’t becaus
e he had been joking. It was one of those sarcastic laughs some humans excelled at.
“You don’t appreciate my orders,” he guessed.
“No, I don’t. I’m either flying the friendly skies with you or driving to Darlene myself. My gut is telling me to hop in the car without you, because I don’t know what to make of all this, Stephen. You could be more dangerous than anything…if you’re not this rogue vampire himself.”
“Oh, yes.” Sarcasm came out in his tone now. “I’ve taken the trouble of coming here to you, exposing myself, and I now I wish to show my face to this Darlene so she may identify me. I’m a criminal genius.”
She paused, then shrugged. “Just being a careful girl.”
“It would be for the first time, don’t you think?”
A red tinge colored her skin, and Stephen blinked, just to see if he was mistaken. Yes, she was blushing. He hadn’t expected the reaction to be in her nightly repertoire.
She seemed to notice it, as well. As she darted ahead of him, she said, “Let’s get a move on.”
It was what they called “a brush-off.”
“I wish you would stay out of this,” he said wearily.
“Your wish isn’t my command. Boy, I know you’re probably a really ancient vampire and everything, but an oldfangled He-Man attitude doesn’t go far with me.” She grabbed her bag from the kitchen table and headed for the door. “You’re not going to keep me out of this.”
He almost told her that he didn’t want to see her hurt, but the words were too difficult to utter. They would have meant he was feeling protective.
When she bolted through the doorway and didn’t find him behind her, she turned on him. “What? This rogue just got to my friend. My friend. He attacked her, and that pisses me off. Is it so bad to be looking for a bit of justice?”
It hit him full in the chest—he couldn’t control her. Even if he were to stun her with his mind, he had the feeling Kimberly wouldn’t take to it. This was a woman who recalled details of his first bite, so chances seemed dim for relying on her cooperation.
If she insisted on continuing, he could wage his own battle and control her in his own way. By joining her in an investigation tonight, he could be privy to the same information; he could monitor what she intended to put on her League’s Internet site.
The Ultimate Bite Page 8
