First Drop of Crimson (7 page)

I am so overdressed
, Denise thought, looking at the people inside the Crimson Fountain. The patrons had a decidedly Goth edge, with black clothes as an apparent must. She felt out of place in her blue sweater, although her skirt and boots were black, at least. Leather and vinyl also seemed to be everywhere, along with various gothic necklaces, earrings, piercings, and tattoos.

Spade led her through the dense crowd of people dancing. She was careful to look at everyone she passed, hoping one of them would be Nathanial. But she wasn’t prepared for the fang-filled smile directed at her when she brushed by a dancer whose skin was as warm as her own.

Surprised, Denise touched his arm again. Warm living flesh, all right. The man’s smile widened, showing more fang.

“Want to dance with the undead, beautiful?” he crooned, swaying his hips.

“But you’re not a vampire.”

His smile faded. “Yes I am.”

Denise looked at the man, his faux fangs, and the people around him.
Exactly what you’d think a vampire bar would be like, if you didn’t believe in vampires.
Spade was right. This place looked like every bad undead stereotype come to life. It even had some coffins propped up on the stage behind where the band performed.

“Excuse me,” she said, brushing past him.

Spade waited for her a few feet ahead. He had a slight grin on his face. “What do you think?”

“That you have a sick sense of humor, telling Ian to bring his people here,” she replied. “And that you’re overdressed, too.”

Spade also wasn’t wearing a speck of leather or vinyl. Instead he had on a long-sleeved, creamy silk shirt and slacks that were some sort of thick, expensive-looking material. His floor-length coat only made him look more elegant. She marveled that all the leather-clad wannabes had no idea the classily dressed man was actually the creature they were imitating.

He leaned in, his mouth almost brushing her ear. “It’s the perfect meeting spot. Who’d think real vampires would frequent a place like this?”

Spade didn’t move back after he spoke. Denise wasn’t sure if he was waiting for her to reply, but her mind was suddenly blank. His hair rested against her cheek, dark and silky, and his lips were so close to her ear that her slightest movement would connect them. He was also so tall, she couldn’t see past his shoulders, and with the edges of his coat brushing around her, she felt like one step closer would result in her being swallowed up by him.

The thought was somehow tempting.

Denise jerked back, confusion, guilt, and fear competing in her. Was her reckless train of thought due to the growing demon essence within her? The inhuman in her drawn to the inhuman in him? Had to be. Spade was a vampire, the same creature that promoted panic attacks in her, and besides that, Randy had been dead for only a year…

Spade stared at her until Denise had to look away. His gaze was too knowing, too intense. From the corner of her eye, it almost looked like he’d taken a deep breath, but of course that was impossible. Vampires didn’t need to breathe.

“Ian’s this way,” he said, turning around. His voice sounded lower. Throatier.

She followed him, keeping her eyes on his shoulders as he maneuvered through the crowd.

Ian was seated in an open booth, two women on either side of him. Denise felt her former angst melt away, replaced with incredulity. Even in a room full of people pretending to be vampires, Ian stood out.

Black boots with crisscrossing chains adorned his legs, the same color as the leather pants that dipped low on his hips. And aside from the studded slave collar Ian wore around his neck and the studs pierced through his nipples, that was all he had on.

Ian grinned at her, trailing a pale hand down his chest. “Luscious, aren’t I, poppet? Go on, stare. I don’t mind.”

Denise tore her gaze away, but not because she’d been transfixed in admiration. Sure, Ian had an abdomen that could double as a washboard and his face was eerily handsome, but he also had
monster
written all over him. Couldn’t those women sense the menace oozing off him? If she’d met Ian in an alley, she’d run like hell, no matter how much beautiful skin he showed.

“You look like a Dracula porn movie reject,” she managed.

Spade laughed, but Ian winced. “Let’s not speak of him. Like the devil, Vlad might appear if we do.”

The word
devil
sobered her. That’s right, she wasn’t here to focus on Spade, or Ian, or anything except searching for Nathanial. Her family’s lives depended on it, and so did her humanity.

As if in response, her stomach let out a growl, even though it had been only three hours since she’d eaten. Ian raised a brow, hearing it even over the pumping music. Spade glanced down at her, hearing it as well, then gestured at Ian’s booth.

“Wait here whilst I see if there’s anything for you to eat.”

A slow smile lit Ian’s face. Denise didn’t want to be left with him, but insisting on following after Spade sounded too clingy. The brunette to Ian’s left scooted over, making a space for Denise. She sat, concentrating on searching the faces of the men in the club, not the vampire to her right. Or the one on his way to the bar.

“How amusing,” Ian drawled.

Denise didn’t look at him as she replied. “What?”

“Charles, going to fetch you food as though he were a servant,” Ian replied. “Master vampires don’t do that, poppet. Makes me wonder even more about the two of you.”

Denise glanced over, noticing that neither of the women reclined on Ian seemed to care about him saying
vampire
. Maybe they were humans who belonged to him. Or maybe he’d tranced them into not caring.

“We’re, ah…he’s…it’s none of your business.”

What had she been about to do, tell Ian Spade was with her only because she’d coerced him? Or how it was demonic essence that had turned her into a compulsive overeater? It had to be. Normally when she was stressed, she ate less, not more. Besides, if this wasn’t something supernatural, she’d have put on ten pounds this past week.

“He’s only being polite. You should look the word up,” Denise settled on.

Ian snorted. “And angels fly out of my arse when I fart. All his chivalrous tendencies aside, I haven’t seen Charles this attentive with a human in almost a hundred and fifty years.”

Denise was still shaking her head over Ian’s crude imagery when the rest of what he said penetrated.

“What human was he attentive with a hundred and fifty years ago?”

Even as she asked it, she wished she hadn’t. For one, it was none of
her
business, and for another, she was starting to sound like a vampire, with “human” this and “human” that. She had to get away from this world. Back to hers, where there were nothing but humans to distinguish between.

Ian’s eyes gleamed. “Hasn’t he told you about her yet?”

She couldn’t help herself. “Her who?”

“Ah, ah.” Ian tsked. “That’s not my tale to tell, poppet.”

“Then you shouldn’t have brought it up,” she snapped, her temper blistering in an instant.

Both of Ian’s brows went up. Denise fought for control. This wasn’t she. It was the damn demon marks. She had to get focus on priorities. It didn’t matter what happened with Spade and some woman a century ago.

To distract herself from the inexplicable rage still simmering in her, she turned to the brunette at her right.

“Sorry, Ian didn’t introduce us. I’m Denise. Nice to meet you.”

No fewer than eighty of Ian’s people passed through the Crimson Fountain’s door. An impressive number, considering Ian summoned them only earlier this afternoon. In addition to that, Spade counted several vampires not of Ian’s line, plus more than a few ghouls, and dozens of humans with a distinct undead scent that marked them as someone’s property.

But Denise hadn’t recognized her relative among any of them. By three
A.M.
, the scent of weariness and dejection coming from her was palpable.

“We’ll be leaving shortly,” Spade told her.

Denise nodded, her head propped up on her hand, her shoulders slumped.

“You did very well tonight,” he added, trying to lighten her mood even as he cursed himself. He wasn’t here to be a bloody cheerleader, after all. Still, the iron will Denise had exhibited, pushing back the PTSD he could tell had risen more than once, impressed him. Denise was a better survivor than she gave herself credit for. With time, she’d be able to defeat her anxiety around vampires and ghouls entirely.

But she doesn’t want to
, he reminded himself. Once Denise had those marks off, she’d have no need to, because she’d never willingly associate with a vampire or ghoul again.

The thought soured his mood. He stood. “I need to feed before we leave. Stay here with Ian.”

He didn’t wait for her response, but grimly headed for the dance floor. Even at this late hour, it was crowded enough that he could have his pick of people to feed from. The Crimson Fountain didn’t close until dawn, still a few hours away.

Spade tore his thoughts away from Denise and concentrated on the moving feast before him. A young woman didn’t wait for him to make his decision. She sidled over, smiling as she snake-hipped to the music in front of him.

“Hello, gorgeous,” she crooned.

Spade raked her with a gaze. Human and healthy; she’d do. He wasn’t feeling particular at the moment.

He let her lead him deeper amid the other dancers, smiling back as he pulled her to him, fitting his body along the length of hers. She gasped when he began to move, swaying and bending her in time to the pulsing rhythm. Lust reeked off her, and she gave him a seductive look as she began to unbutton his shirt, trailing her hands down his flesh once it hung open.

Spade allowed her to explore for another minute. Then he spun her around, her warm back heating his chest, her pulse—so close to his mouth—jumping with excitement. She rubbed, catlike, against him, letting out a moan as he brushed her hair back and nuzzled her neck. He kept dancing as he held her, unconcerned about letting his fangs show in this crowd, or in bending his head to her throat. Anyone watching would think it was an act, the same pantomime that had been played out countless times tonight. And she’d never know it had been the real thing once he was done mesmerizing her.

Right before he sank his teeth into her neck, however, a sharp whistle jerked his head up. Ian stood next to the railing over the dance floor, gesturing almost lazily toward the exit.

“Thought you’d want to know. Denise just ran off.”

Her heart pounded and panic vibrated just below the surface. Denise increased her pace, wishing she could somehow outrun her feelings. The worst part was, this had nothing to do with her PTSD.

She couldn’t help but watch as Spade stalked off to the dance floor, contemplating the people on it the same way a predator eyed a herd. Then that black-haired woman sashayed up, almost dry-humping the air in front of him. And he’d gone with her. Started to
move
in a way that the word
dancing
didn’t even begin to describe. Denise’s mouth had gone dry and her palms started to sweat. As the buttons came off Spade’s shirt and his pale, hard flesh was revealed in the fluorescent lighting, her pulse began to thump, too. His corded muscles rippled with each new bend and sway he made, that aura of dangerousness replaced with raw, blistering sensuality instead.

And when he’d spun the woman around, his black hair sliding forward to cover his face as he bent to her throat, pure, adulterated heat had slammed into Denise. It was so fierce, so unexpected, and so overwhelming that she’d trembled in her seat—only to be shaken out of her trance at Ian’s low chuckle.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, poppet?”

From the expression on Ian’s face, he knew exactly what she’d been feeling—and what had inspired it.

So she’d run like hell. Better Spade think she was crazy than realize the truth, as Ian had.

Some fuzzy part of her recognized that the places she passed seemed to blur together. She had no idea where she was going.
Away
was good enough right now. At this hour, traffic was light enough that she didn’t need to pause before crossing the streets, or maybe she didn’t care about causing cars to slam on their brakes. Such tall buildings, narrow streets, and endless concrete. It felt like she was in a maze that was slowly closing in on her. Even the night’s sky was only visible in small slits between the buildings looming above.

An iron grip closed around her elbow. Denise jerked away, but that grip didn’t budge. Instead she was swept up against a hard, tall body, her feet swinging in the air with how rapidly she’d been grabbed.

“Let go!” she gasped.

Spade’s face was very close. He’d left his jacket back at the club and obviously hadn’t stopped to button up his shirt, either, because his muscled, bare chest pressed against her sweater.

“You’re all right, Denise,” he said firmly. “Nothing’s coming after you. You’re safe.”

Of course. Spade thought she was in the midst of another panic attack. That was partly true, only for a different reason.

“I’m okay now. I just…needed to get away from there,” she said, her breath coming in pants.

Spade’s eyes narrowed and he relaxed his grip, but didn’t let her go. Denise tried to slow her breathing, praying her previous bout of lust wouldn’t raise its head again.

“I see.”

He still hadn’t let her go. Denise wiggled experimentally. His grip loosened more, but his arms stayed where they were.

Denise cast about for something, anything, to distract her from what being in Spade’s embrace felt like. “This city is so stifling. It’s just buildings, more buildings, and more buildings. Isn’t there anything
alive
around here?”

His lips curled even as she groaned at her choice of words. “I meant alive, like trees and grass—”

“I know what you meant,” he cut her off, still with that half smile. “In fact, you ran in the right direction, if that’s what you’re seeking. Come.”

His arms finally dropped from around her, but he placed a light hand on her back. Denise walked next to him, torn between the urge to tell him to button up his shirt and her own enjoyment at catching glimpses of his bare chest.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked at last. She was. She’d left her coat back at the Crimson Fountain. Thankfully, her sweater was thick and she hadn’t taken off her long gloves. Couldn’t risk someone seeing the demon brands on her, after all.

“Not really,” Spade replied. “Vampires don’t react to cold like humans do. I can feel the cold, of course, but it doesn’t cause the same sensation in me. I’d say we should go back to fetch your coat, but we’re more than halfway to the hotel already.”

Denise glanced at the next street sign—and gasped. A shiver of a different nature ran up her spine.

“How far did I run?”

Spade’s expression was both hard and pitying at the same time. “’Round a dozen blocks.”

She shouldn’t be able to run that far in the scant minutes that had elapsed. An Olympic runner would have a hard time doing it, and she was no Olympic runner. Raum’s brands were manifesting even more than she’d realized.

“Oh shit,” Denise whispered.

Spade didn’t respond with any useless, comforting clichés, for which she was grateful. She’d heard enough of those well-meaning phrases after Randy died. Why couldn’t people acknowledge that occasionally, life just sucked? Didn’t they realize that sometimes silence was more comforting than the most sincere expression of sympathy or attempt at showing the deeper meaning behind it all?

Up ahead, the horizon of buildings broke and a vast expanse of open space and trees met her gaze.

“Central Park,” Spade said, nudging her forward. Denise hadn’t even noticed that she’d stopped. “Our hotel is right down the next street, in fact, so not far if you get too cold. With all the snow, you can’t see everything that’s still living in the park, but it’s there.”

Denise smiled, some of the anxiety leaking from her. “It’s perfect.”

She let Spade lead her into the park, marveling that she didn’t feel the slightest bit afraid. Under normal circumstances, it would be the height of stupidity to wander through here in the dark, wee hours of the morning. Still, there was nothing normal about having a vampire at her side and demon marks on her skin.
Potential muggers beware
, she thought wryly. Spade hadn’t gotten his dinner before. He’d probably eat the first person who approached them in a threatening manner.

“How old were you when you died?” she asked, going off the path in favor of walking in the snow. Spade followed behind her, his steps sounding so much surer than hers in the dark.

“Thirty.”

Denise sighed. “I’ll be twenty-eight on my next birthday.”

“I’ll be two hundred and fifty-seven on my next birthday,” Spade replied, an edge of something she couldn’t name in his voice.

Giving him another once-over, Denise couldn’t help but laugh.

“You look pretty good for such an old man.”

He grinned, his smile a white, wicked flash in the night. “Flattery will get you everywhere, darling.”

She had to turn away quickly, because if she didn’t, her gaze would linger too long on all the evidence of her statement. Spade
did
look good. Too good, especially with his shirt blowing behind him, showing a chest that looked like carved moonlight. His long black hair also rustled in the breeze, taking turns hiding or revealing his face, but it wasn’t hard for her to see his eyes. Their depths glowed with green specks, drawing her gaze even though she knew it was dangerous to keep looking.

Denise sat down, pretending to draw something in the snow, ignoring the cold seeping in through her long skirt. She had on tights and knee-high boots underneath her skirt, but that wasn’t enough to protect her from the freezing earth. Still, better to shiver from contact with the snow than reveal the tremble that had swept through her while she’d stared at Spade.
This isn’t you
, she reminded herself.
It’s just the demon marks.

The crunching of snow announced that Spade was walking over to her. Denise didn’t glance at him. She felt her heart speeding up and cursed herself for it.

“Denise.”

Spade’s voice was lower, and he drew her name out in a way that made her heart speed up even more. Still, she kept her attention on the random pattern she’d drawn, even when she felt him kneel down next to her.

It’s just the demon marks, just the demon marks…

His hand slid across her back. Shivers rippled through her that had nothing to do with the cold. Then Spade’s shoulder brushed hers, followed by his leg touching her thigh as he moved even closer.

Everywhere he grazed her, her flesh felt like it was vibrating. Denise kept her head bent, her hair covering her face, hand quivering as she continued to blindly trace her fingers through the snow.

It’s just the demon marks, just the demon marks!

Spade brushed her hair back with a light, caressing stroke. She wished his fingers felt lifeless and cold, but they didn’t. They felt strong, supple, and knowing. Like he realized exactly how she was reacting to his touch.

“Denise…”

His voice was so deep, and the breath he’d used saying her name touched her cheek in its own caress. Denise closed her eyes. Everything in her wanted to turn toward Spade and abandon the last, thin thread of control she had. The need surging inside her
had
to be from the demon marks. She’d never felt such a strong pull toward anyone before, even Randy…

Randy
. Murdered because she’d thought it would be fun to spend New Year’s Eve with vampires. And now here she was, a scant fourteen months later, about to throw herself into a vampire’s arms.

No
. She wouldn’t let herself.

“You must be hungry.” Guilt and grief had thrown a much-needed bucket of ice water on her emotions. “I interrupted your dinner by running off, so let me make that up to you.”

Denise flipped her hair back, able to meet Spade’s eyes without the same shivery need as before. She had to stop thinking of him in any way except a vampire—and she would not
let
herself be lulled into another false sense of security about what the vampire world entailed. Having Spade bite her was the surest way to remind her of what he was; a vampire who lived in a world filled with blood and death.

Spade’s eyes were all green, lighting up his face with a hazy emerald glow. Denise didn’t want to know if they’d been that way before her offer, because she knew what else could have drawn such a response.

“You want me to bite you?” he asked, low and rough. “Just days ago, you were stuffing yourself full of garlic trying to prevent that very thing.”

“You’ve made it clear that you won’t let me pay you back any of the money you’ve lost helping me, so giving you blood is the least I can do, right?”

Denise kept her gaze challenging as she tilted her neck. It would hurt being bitten. She knew that from experience. It was how Denise had met Cat, when Cat rescued her from a vampire trying to drink her to death. A little pain now would go a long way toward reminding her of why she needed to stay away from Spade—and all the undead—once she found Nathanial.

Spade’s voice was very soft. “Get up and walk away from me, Denise, or I will take you up on your offer.”

His gaze pinned hers, that green glow penetrating. She knew he wasn’t using his power on her, because her mind felt clear, but she was drawn in nonetheless.

She had to end this bewildering attraction she felt for him. Now, before it got any stronger. If she was lucky, she’d have a PTSD attack on the spot.

“Go ahead, vampire,” she replied, equally soft.

Spade’s mouth was on her throat before the last word left her.

Her skin was so hot, even in the frigid air. He’d intended to bite her quickly, to give her what she was looking for—repugnance. He knew that was her goal when desperation and anger replaced the intoxicating fragrance of desire coming from her.

That desire had almost been Spade’s undoing. He’d gotten the first hint of it at the club when he’d whispered in her ear, but it vanished so fast, he hadn’t been sure. He was sure a few minutes ago. Denise’s scent and the way she reacted to his touch confirmed it, razing his willpower and drawing him to her even though his common sense warned him to stop.

Then her angry offer to let him feed from her, motivated by an obvious wish to see him as nothing more than a beast. He’d almost thrown it back in her face, but then realized she was right. It was the perfect solution. Let her be repelled by him. Do them both worlds of good.

But now, feeling her pulse vibrating under his mouth, he couldn’t be rough with her. Couldn’t do anything but slide his lips over her skin until that stiffness in her limbs was replaced with a different sort of tension. Couldn’t stop himself from inhaling her honey and jasmine scent, salted by her residual anger, but deepening as his hand wound in her hair. He pressed her closer, opening his mouth to flick his tongue across her throat.

Ah, darling, you taste just how I thought you would. Dark, lush, and sweet.

He continued to trail his mouth over her neck, searching out where she was the most sensitive. Not there, though that resulted in a delicious shiver running through her. Not there, but it made her uncurl her hands from the clenched fists she’d held at her sides. His tongue flicked out again, probing a new spot—and Denise gasped, arching against him.
Yes. There
.

Spade closed his eyes, absorbing her scent with another deep breath. Then he slid his fangs into her neck, relishing her shudder of pleasure as the venom they contained merged with her flesh, erasing the sting of breaking her skin and producing a false, pleasant sensation of heat.

As soon as he swallowed her blood, however, he knew something was wrong. But it was too late. As if he were a vampire rising undead for the first time, Spade couldn’t stop himself from swallowing again. And again, and again.