First Drop Of Crimson Part 7

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 b.u.t.ton up his s.h.i.+rt, 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 l.u.s.t 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 gra.s.s*"

"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 b.u.t.ton up his s.h.i.+rt 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 s.h.i.+ver 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 s.h.i.+t," Denise whispered.

Spade didn't respond with any useless, comforting clichs, 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 s.p.a.ce 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 circ.u.mstances, 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 s.h.i.+rt 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 s.h.i.+ver 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. s.h.i.+vers 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 s.h.i.+very 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 s.h.i.+ver 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, relis.h.i.+ng 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.

Chapter Ten.

Denise wrapped her arms around Spade, lost in sensations she never expected. Each new, deep suction sent pleasure stabbing through her, followed by cascading waves of heat.

Her earlier cold was only a memory. Now she burned from the inside out, her earlier reservations forgotten, twisting against Spade in a combination of need and bliss.

He yanked her closer, then rolled on top of her when even that proximity didn't seem to be enough. Denise's gasp turned into a moan at the feel of him pressing her down with a wonderful, hungry urgency. His hips aligned with hers at his next suction. Then he rubbed against her, the hard bulge in his pants sensually grinding between her legs.

The resulting heat in her loins exceeded the fire running through her veins. She dug her nails into his back at the next twist from his hips, rocking with him to feel more of that incredible friction. A sweet dizziness filled her as he drew more strongly on her neck, holding her in a grip she couldn't break*and didn't want to.

"Spade," she whispered, her eyes fluttering, the treetops and stars blinking in and out of her vision.

He tore his mouth from her throat, somehow crouched several feet from her in the next instant. The sudden absence of his weight and that luscious feel of his body pressing into hers left her confused. She reached out to him, only to have his growl stop her.

"Stay away."

His eyes were blazing green while blood dripped from his mouth. She reached for her neck. A slow trickle met her fingers. It throbbed with the same demanding ache she felt between her legs.

"Is something wrong*?"

He started toward her, and then flung himself backward so hard, he hit a tree. It tilted with an ominous creak.

"Run," Spade said tightly. "Run away from me right now, or I will drink you to death." The feral hunger in his gaze finally penetrated through her haze of dizziness and l.u.s.t. She managed to get to her feet, still holding her neck and feeling the wetness between her fingers. Spade's eyes were transfixed there, his mouth pulling back in a snarl that revealed fangs so long and sharp, his face looked more animal than man.

"Go."

She turned and staggered away. Soon she was back on the path, heading in what she hoped was the same direction they'd entered from. The hotel was on the next street, Spade had said.

A cras.h.i.+ng noise directed her gaze up. It was dark, but she could make out something big jumping impossibly high up from tree to tree. Was Spade following her? A sick fear lurched in her stomach, covering the sensual warmth that had so recently filled her. Was he hunting her?

"Faster," his unmistakable voice snarled.

Denise ignored her lingering dizziness and ran for all she was worth, bursting through the same part of the park she recognized as where they'd entered from. She glanced around wildly, hearing more branches snap above her. Then she ran toward what she hoped was the street Spade had pointed to earlier.

A dash across the street revealed the sign she'd been looking for. The Plaza. Denise fumbled in her skirt pocket, glad she'd stuck her room key in there instead of her coat at the beginning of the night, and ducked inside the ornate doors. She kept her head down, holding her hair over the bloodstained spot on her neck, and made it into the elevators without any of the employees calling the police. The early hour probably helped; the few people Denise pa.s.sed looked sleepy when she glanced at them.

By the time the elevator opened on her floor, that previous, heated need was gone and she was disgusted with herself. She'd practically begged Spade to take her right there in the snow. Was that why he'd been thrown into a feeding frenzy? Had her l.u.s.t-crazed reaction pushed him past the normal control a vampire had? And what was wrong with her, responding like some sort nympho from a vampire bite? Yes, it had been well over a year since she'd had s.e.x, but that didn't explain the intensity of her reaction.

Denise was still las.h.i.+ng herself when she closed the door to her room. She leaned against it in weariness*and then wrinkled her nose. What was that smell?

Raum rounded the corner of the bedroom. "h.e.l.lo."

The demon was at the door before she could yank it back open, the sulfur scent emanating from him almost choking her.

Raum smiled. "Alone at last."

Spade used the last of his willpower to make sure Denise made it into the hotel. When he saw her stumble through the gla.s.s doors, he couldn't hold back the effects of her blood anymore. The dark magic in it, instantly addictive, merged his reality with hallucinations and the present with the past.

Spade fell from the tree, barely registering the impact of the ground. Naked branches waved in the wind as he and Crispin rode past, following the grooves the carriage made in the dirty snow. They were from earlier that morning at the most. Spade leaned forward, urging his horse faster.

He rolled on the ground, hearing his own guttural moans as he tried to push the memories back. No. I don't want to see that again. Not again.

He got to his feet and began to run. The trees morphed and seemed to reach for him, their branches turning into skeletons that bent down and swiped him as he pa.s.sed. Then the trees grew thicker, transforming into the Argonne forest from that day a century and a half ago.

"No," Spade said, gritting his teeth. He ran faster, stumbling over the large rocks he somehow hadn't seen that jutted out of the earth. This wasn't real. It wasn't real.

Or was it? What if he was back there? What if it wasn't too late to save her?

"Giselda," he shouted. "I'm coming!"

Crispin spotted the wheel first, turned on its side off the lip of the road. For a moment Spade was relieved. Her carriage had suffered a mishap, that's why Giselda had been delayed. But then he smelled it. The scent of blood and death.

Spade bounded off his horse, streaking toward the carriage without even touching the ground, not caring that he was flying for the first time.

Crispin flew faster, grabbing him from behind and wrestling him to the ground. "Don't, mate. Let me go instead."