Erin McCarthy

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Contents

Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen

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Chapter One

 

To: Slash87@gomail.com

From: QueenieG@aol.com

Subject: Private—off vamp slayers' list

Hey Slash,

About what Vixen said… if the slayers' loop has plans to meet up somewhere, I'm going to be there. I want to get stake training from those more experienced than me, and I absolutely have to meet you.

Is everyone meeting in Vegas? I live in Vegas, so that would be brilliant.

Smooches,

Queenie

 

Gwenna Carrick hit the send button and tried not to laugh. Smooches? Egads. She was appallingly bad at being both forceful and flirty, especially in an electronic format. Slash probably had no idea she was attempting to hit on him, which she knew she should regret, but didn't. If she could gain his confidence without the bloody mincing, she was all for it, because her experience with men was limited to her brother and her ex-husband.

Which was even more dysfunctional than it sounded, given they were both egotistical millennium-old vampires and controlling to boot.

It might also explain why she absolutely loved her fake online persona of QueenieG, who said what she wanted straight out and had a tendency to get a bit bossy when she thought she was being ignored. There was something absolutely liberating about being anonymous on the vampire slayers' loop, without any of her very long life's baggage weighing her down. Gwenna liked the power, the giddy feeling she got when she just dashed off an e-mail to the loop.

And it was amusing to be, in fact, a vampire, right smack in the midst of zealous anti-undead slayers. It wasn't often she got to be the sly, clever one, and she was enjoying it. So much so that it was getting addictive.

Her brand-new mobile phone rang on the desk next to her. "Yes?" she said, seeing on caller ID—brilliant invention—that it was Ethan, current president of the Vampire Nation. And her overprotective yet endearing brother.

"Hey, Gwen. Brittany had her baby tonight. Healthy girl, everyone is doing fine."

Gwenna smiled, relieved and ecstatic to hear that Ethan's sister-in-law had delivered successfully. She and Brittany Atelier had got close in the last few months as they had found a common thread in being the only two Impure women ever to conceive a child with a vampire.

"Is she up for visitors? I'd love to pop by."

"I think she'd be disappointed if you didn't pay a visit."

"I'll be right over." Gwenna said good-bye to her brother and turned back to her screen to shut her computer off.

One hundred and seventeen new messages on the vampire slayers' loop in the last twenty-four hours, many of them written in what she was starting to suspect was a secret code. Hints at a meeting. Implications of a planned attack on vampires.

Something was definitely in the works, and she wanted to know what it was and when it was going to happen.

Before she headed to the hospital, she dashed off another e-mail to the moderator requesting a reminder to the loop to trim posts. That always sent a flurry of responses to the list, distracting from the current topics, and muddying the waters. Then she tried to e-mail FoxyKyle, who despite her ridiculous name, was the undisputed class president of the slayers' loop, with Slash87 being something comparable to VP.

FoxyKyle's e-mail was set to private. But Slash had sent her an Instant Message.

 

Queenie,

I'm in Vegas right now too… wanna get together?

 

Slash was in Vegas? What did that mean? The question she'd never been able to answer was if the majority of the slayers' loop were just playing out a fantasy, or if they were all true slayers. Her instinct told her only a handful were slayers in the truest sense, those who had actually killed a vampire, or were planning to, and she was sure Slash and FoxyKyle fell into that category.

She clicked Reply.

 

Absolutely. Time and place?

 

His response came immediately.

 

Tonight. How about ten o'clock, at the Harrah's monorail station.

Meet by the ticket machines.

 

Gwenna hadn't been born yesterday—not by a long shot. There was something odd about a request to meet at a rail stop, but she had to take into consideration Slash was a slayer, or at least aspired to be one. He probably enjoyed the subterfuge and intrigue. Meeting in Starbucks just wouldn't have the same ring to it.

 

Sure. See you then.

 

She'd swing by and meet Slash, assess him face to face, instead of just on-screen, then zip over to the hospital to see Brittany and the baby. Gwenna shut her computer down and stood up, curious as to why Slash wanted to meet her. She knew her reasons, but what exactly were his? Wondering if Slash and FoxyKyle had known each other prior to the slayers' loop, she figured she would have to get creative and track down Foxy later. Gwenna thought it wouldn't be that difficult. She was a dab hand with the computer. There hadn't been much else for her to do in York, where she'd been in a self-imposed exile for the last three hundred years. The Internet had saved her sanity in the last decade as she'd rattled about that castle entirely alone.

No longer. She was back in the real world. The past was dead and gone.

Or knocking at her door. Gwenna groaned, knowing before she even heard the doorbell that her ex-husband, Roberto Donatelli, was standing outside her hotel suite. She had an acute sense of smell and she knew his scent, a mix of expensive cologne and alcohol. And while it probably wasn't entirely logical, she was just always aware of him. He was like a toothache one tried to ignore, but instead had you reaching for the aspirin at regular intervals.

"Damn." She stuck her tongue out, knowing he couldn't see her, but enjoying it nonetheless. Then she added a series of obnoxious facial expressions and a rude gesture or two to work it all out of her system as she walked across the room. Pasting a polite smile on her face, she opened the door.

"Hi, Roberto. What brings you by?" Gwenna kept the door mostly closed, wanting him to take the hint, knowing he wouldn't.

"Hello, my beautiful wife," he said with a charming smile, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "I just missed seeing your lovely face."

It took everything in her not to correct his use of the term wife, given that they had been granted a vampire divorce three centuries ago, but he had wanted to irritate her, and she refused to give him the satisfaction. She accepted the kiss, than said airily, "Well, you've seen it, so I guess you'll be on your way now."

His smile disappeared and deep lines of annoyance marred his smooth forehead. "Since when do you talk like that? This city has had a negative effect on you… since you've been living in Vegas you've gotten—"

"A backbone?" she asked dryly. God knew he must despise that. Their entire marriage had been based on him dominating her.

"No. Nasty. Impolite."

She rolled her eyes.

"See? That is what I'm talking about. This isn't like you, Gwenna."

Everyone thought they knew her. They expected her to sit down and shut up, and for most of her life she'd done just that. But while she would always strive to be a kind and compassionate person, she no longer wanted to be an undead doormat.

"Maybe this is the new me."

"Well, it's highly unattractive."

Any patience she'd been trying to hold on to disappeared. "Why the hell are you here? And how did you get into the casino anyway?"

"I'm vice president of the Vampire Nation. We had a series of cabinet meetings in your brother's offices."

"You're not supposed to come up to this floor." Immediately she regretted making such a petulant statement. She sounded like a six-year-old.

"Why not?" He leaned toward her, suave and sophisticated in his dark charcoal gray suit, his hair trim and tidy, little flecks of silver on either side of his temples. "Are you afraid of me, my dear? You know I only have your best interests in mind." He brushed her hair back off her cheek softly. "I love you."

She hated when he did this. Back when she was mortal, his words and charismatic touches had made her weak in the knees and willing to give up her virginity to him. Now it just grated on her nerves and made her wish she really did know Slash's staking skills. There were times she'd love to just skewer Roberto like an Italian shish kebab.

"Right, then. You love me. Is there anything else you'd like to tell me before you leave?"

He dropped his hand and the false charm. "Have you talked to my daughter? Has Brittany had the baby yet?"

Just when she thought she had the upper hand on him, he was utterly brilliant at ripping the rug out from under her. It hurt like hell that he had a daughter, conceived with no forethought in a random moment of selfish pleasure in the back of a seventies strip club, when Gwenna herself would never be a mother again.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss Brittany or her baby with you."

Roberto frowned at her. "Just tell me if she's alright."

"She's fine."

"And her due date is next Friday?"

"Yes." That was the truth after all. No need to mention that she'd already given birth.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" he asked, gesturing toward her suite.

"No."

"Gwenna," he said, his voice exasperated.

"What?" She felt just as annoyed. What in hell did he want from her? He'd already had the best three hundred years of her life, and while she probably had a pound of flesh to give him, she wasn't feeling generous. Or masochistic.

"We were happy together."

Oh, God, he was going to take it there.

She sighed and leaned on her doorframe. "Sometimes. Sometimes not. Now will you please just go? I'm not in the mood to play this game tonight."

"I'm not playing games. I love you."

Roberto touched her face again and she shivered, which he mistook for passion. He leaned closer, while Gwenna gathered her resolve. There had been a time when she would have just let him, simply because it was easier. Easiest still had been locking herself away in York and never having to deal with him. But she refused to allow him such total control over her anymore.

Roberto's fangs let down as he bent his head. Gwenna clapped her hand over his mouth to prevent his teeth from sinking into the flesh of her neck. "We're divorced, Roberto. And I don't need a fuck, buddy."

She darted back into her suite and closed the door on his shocked and appalled face. Hands shaking a little, she listened to him shout her name in utter horror. She'd never used the f word before. Maybe she'd thought it to herself, but it had never crossed her lips. And she'd done it with such force and vehemence. It was seriously liberating, and she felt an adrenaline-like rush rip through her.

"I can't believe you just said that… Gwenna Donatelli! Open this door." He was screaming and pounding so hard, the door shook.

"It's Gwenna Carrick, damn it!" she yelled right back.

She never yelled. Ever. And the total silence from his side of the door confirmed that for the first time in almost a thou-sand years she had shocked Roberto into complete speechlessness.

Let the past stay where it belonged. She was ready for a new millennium.

 

 

Nate Thomas focused on the woman in front of him, trying not to think disparaging blond jokes as he ignored the crime-scene team scuttling around the body. Either he was running on too little sleep, or this woman was a dimwit, because they'd been talking for ten minutes and he'd yet to figure how the hell she'd managed to stumble across a murder victim behind a monorail ticket vending machine.

"So you came here from the casino, the Ava?" he asked carefully.

"Yes."

"Why? Where were you going?"

"Here." Her finger pointed down to the ground as she hugged her thin arms to herself.

"To Harrah's?"

Her head shook slowly. "No, to here. This spot."

"Right here. In the station. This was your destination?" He didn't think many women would consider hanging out at the train station on the Strip a good time for a Thursday night, but hell, what did he know about the opposite sex? Diddly-squat for the most part.

A quick sweep from head to toe showed this particular woman to be five foot one or two, a hundred and ten pounds, fair skinned, blue eyes, delicate facial features, and short fingernails, painted a vivid red. She was dressed in loose jeans, way looser than current fashion dictated, a form-fitting red T-shirt, and brown leather sandals. No earrings, no makeup except for that shiny lip stuff, and no watch. Large ornate gilded ring on her right hand, which was almost overpowering for her small fingers. Not a hooker, that he could say with certainty, but otherwise not easy to read.

Nervous eyes darted left and right and had trouble meeting his. "Yes. I was planning to meet someone here."

That was progress. "Who?"

"Um. A guy."

Or not. Nate really was tired. He'd been up for seventy-two hours, easily, and he had a pounding headache. He shouldn't have even answered this call, but he had the most experience, and several other detectives were on vacation for spring break. But his brain was foggy, his patience thin, and his witness was either intentionally uncooperative or not the brightest bulb in the pack.

"What guy? A friend? A boyfriend?"

"Well, not exactly a friend. Definitely not a boyfriend. More like an acquaintance."

"What's his name?"

"I don't know his real name."

Nate stared hard at her. Was she a user? Meeting a dealer? That would explain the fact that she looked like a strong wind could blow her over, and her translucent complexion, not to mention her repeated evasiveness. "Look, if you were doing a deal, buying some stuff, I don't care about that, okay? I'm more concerned with who did this…" He jerked his thumb over to where the photographer was taking shots of the victim, a white male in his twenties, entirely drained of all his body fluids. "I don't care who sells you your smack. I just want to hear what you know, what you heard, what you saw, the whole truth, do you understand?"

For the first time since he'd been directed to her upon arriving at the scene, she lost her nervous demeanor. "I wasn't here to buy drugs!"

She sounded downright indignant. Utterly offended.

"Then what were you here for? Is your hook-up guy married?" Maybe she was having an affair or into anonymous sex for kicks. She didn't look like the type, but Nate had learned they rarely did.

"Oh, I don't know. Do you think he's married?" That seemed to flummox her.

Nate tried not to sigh. "I don't know. Tell me how you know him and why you were meeting him, and maybe we can figure out if that has anything to do with the poor guy wadded up like dirty laundry and crammed behind a ticket machine. I don't know about you, but I'd like to catch a killer here."

She winced and rubbed her arms absently. "That was rather appalling, wasn't it? Poor sot. Do you know who he is?"

She had quite the little focus problem and it was starting to bug the hell out of him. "Who were you meeting?" Nate glanced down at the notebook in front of him. Her name was Gwenna according to the uniform who had initially arrived on the scene. Gwenna Carrick. "Look Gwenna, just tell me what you know about the guy you were meeting."

"I just know the user name he goes by. It's Slash87."

"User name? Online?"

"Yes." Her cheeks got a little pink.

"You were meeting a guy you met on the Internet?"

She nodded.

Christ. Why did everyone suddenly think it was a good idea to hook up online with total strangers and meet them in unsafe locales without knowing jack shit about them other than the fact that they used freakin' smileys in their damn e-mails? Yeah, Nate was officially out of patience.

"Okay. So you don't know his real name?"

"No."

"Have you met him in person before?"

"No."

"Where did you meet him online?"

"A special-interest loop. We were supposed to meet here at ten."

"Whose idea was that?"

"Well, meeting in person was mine. To meet here was his idea."

What guy suggests meeting on a monorail platform when there were nine thousand bars, restaurants, and casinos in spitting distance? One up to no freakin' good, that's who. The blonde was definitely stereotypically dumb to have agreed to do something so dangerous. "And you didn't see him when you got off the train?"

"I don't think so. But really, how would I know? I've never seen him before."

Nate let loose with the sigh he'd been stifling. "I mean, did you make contact with him?"

"Oh. No."

"So how do you know Slash87 isn't the guy posing for his final portrait over there?" Nate jerked his thumb toward the crime tape and the flash from the camera over the body.

She blanched. "Oh, God, I don't know. I never thought of that. Do you think that's Slash? How horrible."

Nate studied her expression. The horror looked genuine enough. But something about this woman didn't add up for him. "Were you here for a date? What were your plans for after you met up tonight?"

"We didn't exactly have plans. He just said he was going to be in town, and I suggested meeting up to chat. He gave the time and place. I guess I figured we would go grab coffee or something."

Human beings were so damn exhausting. Nate glared at her, hoping she would understand the severity of what she'd done. "Do me a favor. Don't agree to meet strange men you don't know from Adam in dark monorail stations by yourself, alright? It's just a bad idea all around."

"I didn't think…" She frowned a little. "I mean, I'm really quite good at taking care of myself."

"I can tell." Nate rolled his eyes. "What if you'd been a few minutes early? That might be you behind the ticket machine."

Her chin tilted up and he could tell he'd offended her. "I don't think so."

"Yeah, whatever, keep telling yourself that. You're damn lucky, Gwenna Carrick, that you're standing there curling your lip at me instead of on your way to the morgue." It infuriated him that she was being stubborn, that she'd been so stupid. She looked about as strong as his grandmother, an easy target, and yet was so nonchalant about risking her own safety. Didn't she get that there was one chance in life? That it could be gone instantly and that one little mistake could waste you?

Selfish, that's what it was, when people just strolled around acting invincible, taking risks for no reason.

"I'm fine."

He scoffed. "So what is this online special-interest group? Who joined first, you or Slash?"

"Slash. And it's a paranormal group."

"What the hell does that mean? Like you believe in ghosts and crap?"

"Not exactly. More like…" She glanced away. "Vampires."

"Excuse me?" He'd heard her, he was just hoping he was wrong.

"It's a group that believes in vampires. And well, likes to pretend they're vampire slayers."

"Nice. So you and Slash are pretend slayers? Were you meeting to stake someone?" More likely Slash was hoping to impale Gwenna with his personal stake. Any guy who spent all his time online pretending to be Buffy's male counterpart was probably not getting a whole lot of action.

"We were meeting because the slayers are going to be getting together in Vegas and I wanted to help Slash plan it."

"Oh, like a slayers' convention? Fun. So you're on the planning and decorating committee?"

"You don't have to make fun of me." She rubbed her arms a little and looked over his shoulder. "And if that is Slash over there it's highly insensitive of you to mock what is a harmless hobby."

"You're right. I apologize." While it still sounded seriously geeky to him, he had to remember that she wasn't exposed to violence the way he was. He could compartmentalize, dissociate from the victim, but it would be different for her. That was possibly a guy she'd chatted with, felt some affinity for. "We'll try to ID him as soon as possible and we'll let you know what we find. I need you to get me all the info on that Internet group."

Gwenna made a face, her chin set. "Fine."

The phone in his pocket buzzed. Nate glanced at it and cursed. It was the hospital.

"Excuse me, I need to take this." He started to turn away.

"Can I go home?" she asked hopefully.

"Yes, but I'll need you at the police station tomorrow for further questions."

As Nate pressed the talk button on his phone and answered, he caught one last glimpse of Gwenna Carrick. She was making a ridiculous face, lip curled back, eyes rolling, tongue sticking out, clearly expressing her feelings about having to show up at the police station.

It was kind of funny to see such an attractive woman resorting to the childish mechanism, and normally Nate might have laughed. Except that the voice on the other end told him exactly what he didn't want to hear. And he suspected it would be a long time before he ever laughed again.

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Chapter Two

 

Gwenna should have skipped the hospital visit.

Finding that man's body had been disturbing and surreal, and she felt like she still had death's scent lingering in her nostrils. Not a good time to pop into the maternity ward.

But part of her had thought that seeing something so normal, so joyful as Brittany and her baby would ground her, settle her rattled nerves. Yet Gwenna was unprepared for the mixed feelings that hit her smack in the face when she watched Brittany and her baby. Nine hundred years had dulled her ache at the death of her daughter, but the pain would never go away entirely. That loss, that devastation, was part of Gwenna now, a permanent wound in her heart that would never close, and Brittany's joy pricked at her own pain. But at the same time she was ate up with happiness for Brittany.

"She's beautiful. Congratulations, Brittany, Corbin." Gwenna smiled at the couple, trying to be normal, act natural, shuffle through her conflicting feelings. She found it sweet that Brittany's new husband, Corbin Atelier, a French vampire re-turned mortal, was sitting on the hospital bed as Brittany held the baby, a possessive hand on both his wife and daughter.

"Thank you, Gwenna. She ez the most beautiful baby ever born. I am convinced of it," Corbin said, his French modesty on display.

Brittany laughed, glowing with pride and happiness despite the dark circles of fatigue under her eyes. "All babies are beautiful."

"Not zis beautiful," Corbin insisted. "Ava is stunning."

"Do you want to hold her, Gwenna?" Brittany asked, lifting her arms and the baby out.

Gwenna felt a panic rising in her throat. It had been years— centuries—since she had held an infant. But it would be rude to say no, and surely, now that she was in Las Vegas, far away from England, she could hold a baby in her arms without having a ridiculous mental breakdown. And maybe touching Ava would wipe out that ominous foreboding she'd been feeling since she'd known instinctively on the train platform that there was a dead body stashed nearby.

"I'd love to." Wiping her palms on her jeans, she forced a smile and moved forward for the transfer. They were all nervous—Corbin holding his hands under his daughter to catch her if the pass went bad, Gwenna feeling her already cool skin grow clammy with anxiety, Brittany fussing with the baby's blanket.

But the exchange went off without incident, and Gwenna found herself holding that tiny scrap of nothing babe in her arms. The soft, new smell of freshly washed skin and breastmilk filtered up into Gwenna's nostrils, her vampire senses acutely aware of how tiny and human and alive Ava was.

Her weight was nothing, not compared to the strength in Gwenna's nine-hundred-year-old immortal arms. Yet staring down at that tiny face, Ava's eyes fluttering open and closing again, her cheeks smooth and shiny, Gwenna felt as vulnerable as she ever had. Here was responsibility. Here was the essence of true, pure love, and the source of eternal, agonizing pain.

"Your father is right," she whispered to Ava, settling her closer to her chest. "You're quite gorgeous."

Ava was also starting to whimper, a little squall erupting from her mouth.

"What's the matter, precious?" Gwenna rocked her and made soothing sounds, but Ava moved quickly from mild annoyance to full-fledged crying. She clearly needed to nurse, her tiny mouth rooting around Gwenna's tight T-shirt, searching for a source of relief. She wasn't going to get it from her.

"Why is she crying?" Alexis asked from the other side of the room, where she'd been talking to Ethan.

"She's hungry." Gwenna felt her face go hot as she had a sudden memory sensation from the baby rubbing across her chest. She would swear she could almost feel the tingling rush of her milk letting down, the way it had when her own daughter was an infant.

Disturbed, she tried to hand Ava back to Brittany, but the new mum was busy popping open her hospital gown, clearly to Corbin's horror.

"What are you doing?" he asked her, grabbing the gown before it could fall open and expose Brittany's chest.

His wife raised her eyebrows. "I'm going to feed our daughter."

Gwenna rocked Ava, whose little face was turning red. Corbin's eighteenth-century modesty annoyed her. In Gwenna's mortal youth, survival was more important than manners.

"Not with a crowd of people in the room. I do not think so."

Brittany rolled her eyes. "No one here gives a crap if they see my breast, Corbin. Breastfeeding is a natural, nonsexual action, and this is our family in front of us." She yanked her gown out of his grip, exposing the peak of her left breast.

Apparently not everyone agreed, because Ethan blanched. "Oh, now hang on there, Brit. Good God. We'll just leave. No need to argue, you two." He averted his eyes to the floor. "We'll be out in the hall if you need us… not that you'll need us to do what you're going to do, but you know, if you need…"

He bolted out the door. Alexis turned to Gwenna and rolled her eyes. "Okay, that was pathetic. The man runs the entire Vampire Nation, yet the thought of breastfeeding freaks him out. I'll never understand men."

"Me either. But I don't really want to."

Alexis laughed.

Actually, that wasn't true. Gwenna knew these men entirely too well. They were overbearing, stubborn, egotistical, unable to express their emotions, and power hungry.

On cue, her mobile phone rang. Since just about everyone she communicated with was in the room—or hiding in the hall—Gwenna had the sneaking suspicion she knew who it was. Especially since Roberto had called her at least sixteen times since she'd slammed the door in his face.

Handing Ava gently to Corbin, Gwenna smiled at Brittany. "Congratulations again. I'm going to head on out. We'll chat soon."

"Thanks for coming by, Gwenna. I appreciate it." Brittany gave her a look, a shared understanding.

Brittany knew how Gwenna had worried about her daughter, could sympathize with the fear, because now she was living it, too. They both had given birth to daughters with more vampire blood than mortal running through their veins, and a mother's fear was a powerful thing. Gwenna only hoped Ava would come to a better end than Isabel had.

Feeling tears unexpectedly pricking her eyes, the baby's crying and the ringing of her mobile in her handbag shrill and harsh on her raw nerves, Gwenna just squeezed Brittany's hand and followed Alexis out of the room.

Her brother was frowning at her the minute she stepped out. "What's the matter? Who's calling you?"

"I don't know," she snapped at him. "I can read minds, but I'm not bloody omniscient."

Ethan held up his hand. "No need to get your knickers in a knot. I was just asking."

"Is it any of your business?" she asked, knowing she sounded defensive. But hell, she felt on the verge of tears, and she despised that feeling. It meant she hadn't made any progress at all, that she was still vulnerable and emotional. And it seemed she was going to pay for her standoff with her ex. Roberto was going to harass her mercilessly, another charming tactic of his.

It was the worst thing she could say, though, because Ethan had been about let it go until she spoke. But he was a naturally suspicious person and her words made his eyes narrow. "What does that mean? Give me your cell phone." He held out his hand.

"No." Gwenna clutched her purse tighter to her chest.

"Who would call you, Gwenna?"

Her sister-in-law made a sound of impatience. "Leave it alone, Ethan. Gwenna's right, it's none of your business."

When Gwenna had traveled to Vegas for Ethan's wedding, she had been surprised at her brother's choice of a wife, because Alexis was very twenty-first century with her attitude. But the more Gwenna got to know her, the more she liked Alexis, and the more she realized that Alexis was actually strong in the way women of their eleventh-century mortal youth had been. Alexis did what she needed to do and got the job done without needing or expecting help from a man, and Gwenna suspected that was what appealed to Ethan about her.

"It is most certainly my business." Those blue eyes pierced her, studying her, calculating, accusing. "You're talking to Donatelli again, aren't you?"

Her brother knew just how to get to her, how to make her feel small and naughty, childish.

But she wasn't going to let him intimidate her. "So what if I am?" She wasn't, not technically in the way he meant, but even if she was, it wasn't Ethan's right to criticize.

Ethan didn't like her nonanswer. He took it as confirmation and exploded. "Christ, Gwenna! You haven't learned one goddamn thing in the last three hundred years, have you?"

That hurt. But it infuriated her more. She had learned more than Ethan would ever know. She had learned her lesson the hard way, over and over again, and had continued to have to swallow the lecture long after she had memorized it. "Go to hell, Ethan."

She spun on her heel, and started down the hall.

He grabbed her arm and jerked her to a stop. "Gwenna… wait. You know I'm just worried about you."

"Give me a little credit for having some sense. I'm not some unruly teenager who's letting the town cad up her skirts."

"But that's exactly what you did! Twice. Why do you think I worry about you?"

For the first time in her life, Gwenna wanted to knock her brother unconscious.

Alexis made a sound of shock. "Uh, Ethan… not a cool thing to say, babe."

Gwenna vowed to be mature. "My relationship with Roberto is none of your business. It never has been. And I would appreciate it if you would respect my decisions." Gwenna straightened her back, and took a deep breath, controlling her anger. "I know what I'm doing."

Ethan snorted. "Obviously not if you're sheet diving with Donatelli."

So much for maturity. She clenched her fists and gave a sound of exasperation. "Bugger off."

Her brother's jaw dropped. "Gwenna!" He turned to his wife. "Did you hear what my sister just said to me?"

"Yeah, and you really deserved it," Alexis said. "I would have said it to you years ago, but Gwenna's much nicer than me."

Gwenna was actually not feeling nice at all. It had been rather easy to blurt out that rude command to her brother. Ignoring Ethan's protests, she yanked her arm out of his grip and headed toward the elevator.

Apparently deciding she wasn't worth pursuing, Ethan still yelled after her, "You'll just be sorry all over again for getting involved with Donatelli. You know I'm right."

Rolling her eyes, Gwenna waited for the elevator and tapped her foot impatiently. Just to annoy Ethan, she pulled out her phone and checked the missed calls. It was Roberto's number. Of course. She had changed the rules on him and he didn't like it. Despite what she led Ethan to believe, she wasn't planning to take any of Roberto's calls, and she'd rather die of starvation in the burning desert sun after a failed decapitation attempt than have sex with her ex.

She knew where his penis had been in the three hundred years since their divorce. Everywhere. Around the block several dozen times. Stopping at every strip club and brothel along the way.

If she were going to have sex ever again, which was doubtful, it wouldn't be with Roberto.

The elevator opened.

Gwenna stepped on.

Her eyes landed on a ruggedly handsome man leaning against the back wall, his eyes red and his expression stricken. Smashing. Just when she'd almost forgotten for a whole two minutes that instead of meeting Slash she'd found a murder victim, the cop who had so clearly thought she was an idiot popped up to remind her. "Detective Thomas?"

The phone in her hand rang again.

Damn it. Roberto again.

"Gwenna Carrick." Detective Thomas made a sound of exasperation, his voice angry and raw.

He had been impatient with her at the crime scene, she had been aware of that, but this tone was harder, different. Gwenna saw unshed tears in his eyes, saw his face was a mask of shock and pain, his shoulders tense.

"Are you okay?" she asked. Her phone rang incessantly, loud and obnoxious in the quiet elevator.

Despite the fact that he looked like he was going to crack, he just shrugged. "I've been better. How about you? Find any more dead bodies since we last met?"

Gwenna frowned. So he didn't want her compassion. He was on the emotional edge, obviously, and maybe embarrassed by that. Instinct told her to squelch the maternal urge to touch him.

If he needed flippant, she could do that. "No, no more bodies. But it wasn't for lack of trying."

---

Chapter Three

 

Nate Thomas let out a ragged laugh, dragging his hand over his mouth. God, like his day didn't suck enough already, now he was almost caught crying like a baby by the blonde from the train station.

But at least she'd picked up on his discomfort and had let it drop. It didn't sound like she was going to ask why he was just about blubbering on the elevator.

"Why didn't you answer your phone?" he asked, noting the way she gripped it so tightly her knuckles were white.

It calmed him down to study her, to assess her behavior, to wonder what she was doing at the hospital, and how she might be connected to the victim at the train station. Something about her was off, and he didn't understand what it was. And puzzling her out could help him to forget why he was at the hospital himself.

She glanced down at her cell phone and shook her head. "It's someone I don't want to talk to."

Someone she was angry with, if the pink spots of color on her cheeks were any indication. Her long wavy hair was also mussed, like she had tucked it back in irritation.

"Who? Your mother?" That was usually the person who pissed him off.

She gave a small shake of her head. "I wish." She hesitated for a fraction of a second, than said, "It's my ex-husband."

"Ah." That would explain her defensive posture—straight back, chin high, shoulders squared.

The door opened on the ground floor, but she didn't get off the elevator. "We're here," he told her, gesturing to the lobby, not liking the way she was looking at him.

Like she no longer saw him as intimidating, an authority figure, but instead with pity.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Whatever it is, I'm sorry for it."

He didn't pretend to misunderstand. He was too raw, too close to the edge. "Yeah, me, too."

She hesitated again, but then just stepped out of the elevator, turning her back to him. Her phone rang again in her hand. "Shit," she whispered, as her shoulders suddenly crumpled forward.

Nate moved up next to her. "What does he want?" he asked, not quite ready to leave. When he walked out that door, it would be real, and he didn't want to deal with reality just yet. And he could argue with himself that the blonde could help him solve a murder. Hell, the blonde just might be the murderer, though every gut instinct he had screamed that wasn't even close to the truth.

"He wants me back." She glanced over at him, her blue eyes sad, troubled. "He's never been good at taking no for an answer."

There was a mix of both exasperation and fear in her voice. It bothered him. She was a very petite, fragile-looking woman, young. Mid-twenties at most. A part of her worried that her ex could hurt her, he could sense that. And he was good at assessing people. It was half his job as a homicide detective with the Las Vegas Metro Police. An overzealous ex might also explain why she'd taken to the fantasy of a vampire slayers' group on the Internet. It was a way to exercise her version of control.

"How long since you split up?"

She squeezed the phone again, and glanced at the display screen, frowning at whatever was there. "Three years." Flipping the phone open, she pushed some buttons. "He texted me a message this time."

Three years was a long time after a divorce for a guy to still be pursuing his ex. "What does he say?"

Shrugging, she closed the phone and put it in her purse. "It's nothing. He just wants me to call him."

"He just wrote 'call me'?"

"Yes. Well, he added a now to it, because it irritates him that I ignore him. Why?"

"It sounds like he's a problem." A problem that Nate understood. One he could deal with. What he couldn't deal with was the image embedded in his brain of his baby sister lying in that hospital bed, all the life, vitality, and essence gone from her.

"He is what he is. I'm used to it."

"But you're afraid of him, aren't you?" Nate shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and watched for her reaction to his question. She actually looked startled.

"No, I don't think so. Roberto would never hurt me, not physically, if that's what you mean." She tucked a strand of that pale wheat hair behind her ear. "But… he's very controlling. And what I think I'm afraid of is that when we're together, when we were married, I was willing to compromise what I thought was right because of him. He made me stretch my moral boundaries. Do you know what I mean?" She looked at him earnestly. "I don't want to be like that ever again."

Nate nodded, feeling his nerves settle, his near panic abating. He wasn't going to lose it, not right then anyway. He had a handle on it. "I know what you mean. We walk the line, and some people help us pull one way or the other."

"And we can't blame them really, we have to be responsible for ourselves, but we know it's wrong, and so it's better to stay away entirely." She shoved her cell phone in her purse, her previous bravado back.

Before he was even aware of what the hell he was doing, Nate said, "I'm headed to the coffee shop over there… care to join me?"

It wasn't the need for caffeine that had him craving coffee, but the desperate desire to stay away from his house, where Kyra's hospital bed loomed, and the pervasive sick smell clung to the carpet. He didn't want to go home and he didn't want to be alone. Gwenna Carrick looked like she needed company as much as he did. Despite her earlier words, he doubted she'd encountered a whole lot of dead bodies in her life, especially not one done up like a pretzel and crammed behind a ticket dispenser.

"Okay," she said without hesitation. But then she bit her lip and darted her eyes to the elevator.

"Are you here with someone?" He could read the signs, and he didn't want to cause her complications. His own selfish need for distraction wasn't justification for getting her in trouble with a boyfriend. Though he had to admit he was curious as to why she was at the hospital in the first place.

"No. My brother and I were both visiting a friend, but he came with his wife. He's just very protective of me."

Not protective enough, given her night's activities. "That's good and not so good, I bet. It's nice that he cares so much, but it probably cramps your style. Maybe he would have a point if he objected to you hanging out with a total stranger. You know, say at a coffee shop, or meeting up with someone you don't know in a random place like a monorail station."

She made that face again, that ridiculous-looking pout that showed her distaste. "True," she said with a smile. "But I'd love a cup of coffee anyway, so shall we?"

Nate had originally thought her accent was British, but the way she spoke her vowels made him question his original guess. There was something about her that Nate couldn't put his finger on… like all the pieces to her puzzle just didn't add up. His sense of logic, the detective part of his personality, wanted to figure out who exactly she was beyond his first assessment of dumb blonde.

"Sure." He gestured down the hall and she started walking next to him. "So, you have a friend who's sick?"

"No. Our friend, well, actually she's my brother's wife's sister, so my brother's sister-in-law, but definitely my friend…" She stopped talking and flushed a little. "God, I'm babbling. All I'm trying to say is that Brittany had a baby tonight and we were visiting her. There were some health concerns, so we're very excited that everything is fine. She had a girl."

For some reason, Nate actually felt a smile tug at his mouth at her explanation. "That's wonderful." And amazing that he could actually freaking mean it. There was something soothing in knowing that while his sister had been leaving the world, a baby had been entering it. Kyra would have appreciated that.

"It was a little odd, too, though, considering what I saw earlier… I felt, I don't know, unclean. Like I shouldn't touch that sweet little baby. God, that makes no sense, does it? Just ignore me." She rubbed her lip and studied a painting on the wall as they walked.

"Hey, I understand. I see a lot of death. Sometimes it's hard to cross back over." God knew he was having a hard time crawling back at that very moment.

"Why are you here?" Stopping outside the coffee shop, she studied him. Nate wanted to squirm under that scrutiny. He knew what he looked like, because he felt like it, too—total hell. It made him feel exposed to have her blue eyes probing over him, compassion on her face.

"It isn't for a good reason, is it?"

"No." Nate pulled in a breath and made himself say it. "My sister just died." His voice cracked but he held on, fighting off the tears, the feeling that if he let loose that tidal wave of grief, he would just go right under and drown.

Gwenna's eyes went wide. "Oh. I'm so, so sorry." She reached out and took his hand in hers. "They're empty words and they don't fix anything, but I mean it sincerely."

Her touch was comforting, firm, despite the fact that her fingers were small and thin. She was close to him, their clasped hands brushing his thigh, and her pale blue eyes stared up at him with compassion. "Thanks." He should say something else, do better than that, but he wasn't capable of anything more.

She squeezed his hand. "Maybe we should skip the coffee… maybe you should head home."

"No. I don't want to. I can't, you know what I'm saying?" Nate stroked his thumb over the back of her hand. It was smooth and very cool. There was something reassuring about her, her obvious femininity, delicateness soothing. "Have you ever lost someone you love?"

There was a slight nod, than she whispered, "Yes. I know exactly how you feel."

"Who did you lose?" he asked, which was rude, but he wanted to hear, wanted to know that someone understood the pain he felt, the grief he was trying so hard to control. It wasn't the kind of thing you vented with your buddies over a beer about. There wasn't anyone he could really talk to, just say what he felt with total honesty. But for some whacked-out reason, he was spilling it to this woman, and wanting answers.

"A sister. A brother. My mother." Then her eyes went wide, tears suddenly there, shiny and wet and agonized. "My daughter."

She might as well have kicked him in the gut. Nate felt horrible for asking, at the same time he felt a shocking sense of relief that she would, did understand. That he wasn't alone in his grief. But he couldn't fathom, absolutely couldn't get his head around losing so many people he cared about. And a child, a baby. His gut twisted at the thought.

"God, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked." With his free hand, he swiped at the tear that had fallen down her cheek with his thumb. "I can't imagine going through…" Nate looked at his thumb, suddenly distracted. Her tear wasn't clear, but a ruddy rust color, staining his skin. "Are you bleeding?"

"What?" Her expression was confused and she looked down at her arms and hands. "Where do you see blood?"

"On your face." He pulled his finger back so she could see. "It's like your tears are bloody." Which didn't sound healthy.

"Oh." She relaxed and waved her hand. "That's just normal for me. It's a genetic medical condition, nothing dangerous. But it's like when people have extreme sun sensitivity… I've been teased that I'm a vampire." She shrugged. "I know it's kind of nauseating, but it is what it is."

"A vampire, huh? Yet you're in the slayers' group." Nate wiped her cheek again, to show her it didn't bother him. He was just glad she wasn't injured in some way. Bleeding out your eyes sure in the hell didn't sound like a good thing. "So you must be a vampire playing both sides then. Have you come to suck my blood?"

Her head tilted and she gave him an intriguing, sly smile. "Only with your permission."

 

 

Ethan knew before he even got off the elevator that his sister was still in the hospital. He could sense her presence. And when the doors open, he smelled her vampire scent.

An apology was probably in order. Alexis had already told him as much, and he had a feeling his wife was right. For nine hundred years he had been criticizing Gwenna's involvement with Donatelli, and it had never done anything but drive her faster into his weasel arms. So maybe it was time for a new tactic.

He was scanning the lobby for her, preparing to be sheepish, when he spotted his little sister with a man he'd never seen before in his life. And Gwenna was holding hands with him.

"Who the hell is that?" he asked Alexis. Gwenna didn't hang out with mortal men, which this one clearly was. Gwenna didn't hang out with anyone. She stayed in her hotel room and did… Gwenna things. Ethan was never really sure what his sister did with her time.

"I don't know," Alexis said, craning her neck to get a better view around him.

Ethan shifted so she could see, feeling outraged. "They're practically on top of each other."

"Wow, check that out. He's touching her face. Go, Gwenna."

"No." Ethan glared at his wife. "No 'go, Gwenna.' We don't even know who this guy is."

"What we do know is that he's not Donatelli. And if she's seeing this guy, I seriously doubt she's making it with the Italian, too. That's not Gwenna's style."

That was a good point. Gwenna was sedate. Steady. Reliable. Even in her stupid insane devotion to Donatelli she was predictable. She had always loved him and no one else. But if she was with another man…

"They look rather intimate, don't they?" Ethan asked, studying his sister's posture. She was leaning toward the man slightly.

He wouldn't have expected Gwenna to take a mortal lover, but as long as she was staying away from Donatelli, Ethan was happy. Of course, that didn't mean he trusted anyone around his sister until he was certain of his intent. "Can you get this guy's name from Gwenna? I'll have Seamus run a background check on him."

Ethan didn't even have to look at his wife to know she was rolling her eyes. It was her favorite response to him, one he had to admit turned him on. Virtually everything Alexis did turned him on, which made for a very satisfying marriage.

"Here's an idea," Alexis said sarcastically. "Let's leave Gwenna alone and let her date whoever she wants. In peace. Without interference. You know, like let her make her own choices, whether they're mistakes or not. I like that better."

Gwenna and the mortal man moved off in the direction of the hospital coffee shop a few feet away. Ethan glanced down at his wife and scoffed. "Like you did with your sister? You've been telling Brittany what to do for twenty-six years."

Alexis, sexy little spitfire that she was, bristled. "That's totally different."

"How? We both love our sisters and we both stick our noses in their business. Just admit it."

"I won't."

"Which makes you a bigger hypocrite than me." Ethan saw the guy put his hand on the small of Gwenna's back as they got in line for coffee. "At least I'm honest about my protectiveness."

And as they soon as they got back to his casino, he was going to put in a call and have Gwenna's new little friend checked out.

 

 

God, they were both fucking morons. That's all Donatelli could think as he stared at his two principal bodyguards, Smith and Williams. Maybe he should just kill them both and start over from scratch. Surely he could find better staff if he discreetly advertised.

"Explain to me again how it was possible for Ringo to enter a locked room that the two of you were standing in front of?" Donatelli sipped blood from a wine goblet on the sofa in his hotel suite and glanced down at his cell phone. No missed calls. He was starting to get impatient with his ex-wife, Gwenna. She should at least have the courtesy to call him back. Where the hell were people's manners these days? And he was still absolutely stunned that she had used such a foul curse word with him. That was completely unlike Gwenna and, he had to say, rather unbecoming.

Smith cleared his throat. "Well. We thought he was allowed to go in there. He said he was. So we sort of let him in."

"And just stood there while he walked off with a week's supply of heroin?"

"I guess so."

"That was several grand worth of drugs." Like money grew on goddamn palm trees. Donatelli strove for patience. Not his strong suit. Never had been. He checked his phone screen again before he even realized what he was doing. Damn it. He felt his temper rising and surging, settling to pound at his temple. Where the fuck was Gwenna and why wouldn't she talk to him?

"We didn't…"

That set him over the edge. "You didn't know. I know. Because you're both fucking idiots." He pinned them with a hard stare. "Go tell Ringo I want my supply back. Break a few bones, show him I'm serious. And if he won't be reasonable, bring his wife to me. I'm sure I can convince her to exert her influence on her junkie husband. And he's fond of the silly bitch for whatever reason."

He waved them off. "Now get the hell out of here and send Katie to me."

His mortal lover would distract him. Ease the hard ache that had settled in his cock. Make him forget for twenty minutes that he missed his wife, that he burned for Gwenna still, that after nine hundred years of knowing each other, she was tightly entwined around his heart, his life, his very existence.

He would convince her that it was time to reconcile. That was what he wanted, almost more than the political power he had achieved in the Vampire Nation, and he would have Gwenna. Again.

 

 

Gwenna wasn't sure why she had agreed to go get coffee with a total stranger, but there was something about the way he was looking at her that had made her say yes. She didn't even like coffee, and though vampires could drink liquids, she didn't really enjoy it. It tended to sit in her stomach like a boulder. Yet Detective Thomas's eyes—a rich, deep chocolate brown—stared right into her. There was total focus on her, despite his obvious tragic loss. There was no shifting of his gaze around, no cajoling words or dissembling. Maybe it was because he had just walked away from death, but he came across as straightforward, honest, still and steady.

That was very appealing, and the complete opposite of Roberto.

So much so that she had gone into the coffee shop even when she'd known that her brother and her sister-in-law were standing in the lobby watching them. She was also curious about what the detective thought of the murder, and was aware of his pain, sympathetic at the loss of his sister. If he wanted company, she was willing. She could use some herself frankly. .

"What's your first name?" she asked as they sat down at a tiny table by the window. It was dark outside and the crowd in the shop was thin. "It's too cumbersome to keep calling you Detective Thomas."

"Nate." He gave a brief smile. "Not as cool of a name as yours, but it works. It's short for Nathaniel, though no one calls me that but my mother."

"Does your mother live here in Vegas?"

"Yeah, but she's in Australia right now. My parents…" He paused and cleared his throat. "They thought my sister was going to be okay. She was in remission, so they went to Australia for a month to visit my mom's family. I called them yesterday, but with making arrangements and the long flight, they won't be here until tomorrow."

Gwenna's heart squeezed. "Oh, your mother must be so devastated that she couldn't be here."

He gave a brief nod, than leaned back in his chair. "Sure. But I don't want to talk about it. Tell me about your friend's baby."

Nate might as well have said, "Distract me." Gwenna could understand that, the feeling that the grief was so huge and monstrous that you could only process it a tiny piece at a time or it would consume you. She could chat with him… she wanted to chat with him. Here was someone who didn't know her, didn't think of her as that poor sop Gwenna, Donatelli's passive ex-wife. There was nothing back at the casino that she needed to rush home to, and part of her was dreading going to her suite and finding Roberto standing on the doorstep waiting for her.

"Brittany had a girl. Ava Coco Renee Atelier."

"Now that's a hell of a name."

Gwenna laughed. She couldn't tell from Nate's still expression if he liked it or not, but she suspected he thought it was a bit much. "Britanny's husband is French." And a couple of hundred years old, but Nate didn't need to know that.

"But they live here?"

"Yes. Like I said, my brother is married to Brittany's sister, Alexis. My brother owns a casino here."

"Which one?"

"The Ava."

"Wow." Nate looked impressed. "He owns it?"

"Yes." Gwenna hoped he didn't think she was bragging. But Ethan had always been successful because he worked hard. Beyond hard. He was exhausting in his productivity.

"But you're not American."

It wasn't a question. She shrugged. "No. I'm British. I've been living in York, but I came here for my brother's wedding last August, then came back in December and decided to stay."

"Is your ex Roberto in England?"

Gwenna glanced at him in surprise. Had she said Roberto's name? She suddenly realized she couldn't read Nate's mind. Most humans came across easily to her, their thoughts floating across her consciousness like white noise until she tuned in, but with Nate there was only silence. Maybe that was because he was a detective, and used to shuttering and shielding his emotions.

"No, Roberto lives here."

"So why would you want to be where he is if he's harassing you?"

It felt like an accusation. Gwenna was tired as hell of having to explain herself, of having to work her life around Roberto and all her mistakes. "Why should I let him keep me from living by my family?" she asked, hearing the defensiveness in her voice.

He lifted his coffee cup and drank from it. Those eyes watched her, and she realized there was no judgment there. "You shouldn't, unless your personal safety is at risk."

Sighing, she ran her fingernail across the cocktail napkin her coffee was resting on. She'd painted her nails a rather bright red the day before, which was uncharacteristic for her. But she'd suddenly felt the urge to be bold. "My personal safety isn't at risk. Honestly, Roberto would never hurt me. And he can't really get close to me anyway, not if I don't want him to." Of course, he had just knocked on her suite door earlier that night. But she could have called security if necessary. "Ethan has staff that keeps an eye on Roberto. And me for that matter." Ethan thought she had no idea that he had her followed on occasion, but she was well aware of it.

She knew everything.

And she was a bird in a cage. Or to be more accurate, a bat confined to her cave.

"Staff? Like bodyguards?"

Nodding, Gwenna realized this probably wasn't the best topic for conversation with the detective who was investigating the murder she had discovered. Lunatic ex-husbands and personal security… she was bound to either convince him she was guilty of something, or send him screaming away from her and the mess her life was.

The first would be disastrous, the second disappointing.

Because the truth was, even at the crime scene, she had been aware that Detective Thomas was a very attractive man, in a rough sort of way. Sipping the coffee carefully, she checked out Nate's muscular arms and chiseled face. Definitely good-looking, and she could absolutely appreciate that. It had been a long three centuries in York, and it occurred to her that his muscular build could very possibly keep up with her immortal strength. Or at least close enough to satisfy her. Hell, she suspected it wouldn't require much to take care of her at this point… some days it felt like a warm breeze might do the trick, and Nate looked like a very sexual man. He could give her a run—or a ride—for her money. Not that she would actually do anything about it, but it was a pleasant fantasy in the quiet, warm shop.

"You're lucky you can have security like that. Hopefully it will keep your ex from ever getting physical with you." Nate held up his hand when she started to protest. "Look, I know you don't think he ever would. And maybe he wouldn't. But I'm a detective. I've seen the result of domestic violence, and sometimes these guys snap when you least expect it. Just be careful, okay?"

"Sure." She couldn't get offended because she saw Nate's sincerity, and he had the kind of job that would expose him repeatedly to violence. Violence like she had discovered that night. "How long have you been a detective?"

"Five years. Beat cop for eight years before that."

That would put him in his early to mid-thirties. "You don't look that old."

He laughed. "I feel old enough to retire tomorrow."

Gwenna smiled. "But you wouldn't. You enjoy it, don't you?"

"Yeah. I do. It's rewarding." He picked up his coffee and drank.

"My sister-in-law used to be a county prosecutor. Alexis Baldizzi. Maybe you know her?"

His eyebrow went up. "Sure, I know her. Great prosecutor. Cutthroat. I heard she married that crazy rich British casino owner…" He winced. "Oh, shit, that's your brother, isn't it?"

That struck her as amusing. Ethan really would hate to be labeled as crazy, but to mortals, he was simply an eccentric rich casino owner. To vampires, he was president of the Vampire Nation, and a political powerhouse. She laughed. "Yes, that's my brother, Ethan. He is all of the above, and he and Alexis got married last August. I came here for the wedding, like I said, and decided to stay."

"I bet your brother and your sister-in-law had no idea you were planning to meet some guy in a train station, did they?"

"Why would they need to?" Gwenna lifted her chin up, hearing the censure in his voice. She had to remember that if she were mortal, agreeing to meet Slash like that would have been incredibly stupid. But what Nate didn't know was that she was a vampire, and hard as hell to kill. Nor could any mortal injure her or touch her against her will. Her strength, speed, and reflexes gave her a thorough advantage.

"I guess they wouldn't. Because if they had known, I'm sure they would have stopped you, like any sane person." Nate shook his head, like he still couldn't believe she had done something so ridiculous.

"No one can stop me if I make my mind up."

"Well, that's narrow-minded and dangerous."

"I didn't think it was a big deal. It was a public place."

"And probably just a place to meet you, so he could take you somewhere else in private to rape and kill you, and no one would even know where to start looking when you turned up missing."

That was a rather grim view of it. "Well, that's not what happened, is it?"

"Only because your boy either got whacked or did the whacking."

"Or it's a coincidence."

"I don't believe in coincidence. Slash wanted you in that spot." Nate crumpled up his paper napkin. "The question is why. What made you look back there, by the way?"

"I thought I heard something." Gwenna was lying. There hadn't been any sound at all. In fact, after the rush of passengers had departed, heading down the escalators to the street had been unnaturally quiet. She had instinctively taken the down escalator herself because she had smelled death. A deceased body had a very peculiar fungal and putrid odor that was unmistakable for anything else. She'd known someone was dead. It had been a matter of just figuring out where the body was, not that it existed. "And the machine was turned a little. I actually thought a cat or something was back there."

"That must have been a grim surprise." Nate shook his head again.

"It was." Gwenna wrapped her arms around her chest. Despite being nine hundred years old, she had never seen a murder victim before. She hoped she never did again. The man—boy really—had been almost unrecognizable because of the way he'd been stuffed back there, his skin waxy and pale. She shuddered involuntarily.

"Hey." Nate's voice softened. "It's okay."

"No, it's not." Gwenna sat back in her rickety chair. "It's not alright at all, because whoever that poor man is, or was, he's dead, and whoever did that to him is just walking around feeling pleased with himself for getting away with it. I feel responsible in some way… like if I'd gotten there sooner…"

"You'd be dead, too."

Highly unlikely, but she wasn't going to argue. "I know it sounds irrational, but I feel just awful."

"I wouldn't like you if you didn't." He popped the lid off his coffee cup and dumped two packets of sugar substitute into it. "Death makes us feel bad. That's normal. When it stops feeling bad, that's when we know we're in trouble."

Maybe that was what had happened to Roberto. He had lost his compassion for the suffering of others. He had learned to take his immortality for granted, and fallen under the mistaken notion that having been granted eternity, he was entitled to use it as he chose.

"So your sister had cancer? How old was she?" she asked softly.

Nate didn't answer right away. He took a sip of his coffee and set it down. Then he met her gaze. The pain there was palpable.

"Kyra was twenty-five. She had leukemia."

"So young? That's just awful." And suddenly it made Gwenna profoundly ashamed. She'd had almost a thousand years of life and what had she done with them? Nothing. She had embroidered and played the harp and pianoforte, hosted dinners for Roberto, and read a vast quantity of books. But she hadn't done anything useful, not like her brother and Alexis. Not like Corbin, who had spent his vampire life engaged in genetic research.

"Yeah, it is awful. It totally sucks, really."

Nate's sister had lived but a whisper in comparison to her, yet Gwenna was ungrateful for her immortality. Or at least she had been. That had changed in recent months, and she should allow herself credit for that.

"I hope you were able to be with her at the end." Gwenna had wanted that with Isabel, had wished she'd had the chance to tell her daughter good-bye.

"Yeah, I was. Kyra, she is… was an amazing girl. She really did go through this whole thing with dignity and grace. I'm in awe of how brave she was. Right until the end."

The tears hung in his eyes again, and he fought them back brutally, clearly determined not to let them fall.

"It's okay to cry, you know," she whispered.

"No, it's not. Not here in the freaking coffee shop." Nate pressed on his forehead. "God, I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Gwenna reached for his free hand and slipped it in hers. "And if this isn't the place to let it go, let's find somewhere where you can."

"Like where?"

"My brother's casino. We can find a quiet corner."

"A quiet corner in a casino?" He looked skeptical.

"If you know where to go, absolutely."

She started to stand up but he resisted. "Gwenna, this isn't a good idea."

"Why not?"

"Because the department is going to have to ask you questions still about the online group you belong to. And if that victim is really Slash, there will be more questions. This isn't really even appropriate for us to be talking."

"So you came to the casino to interview me further. That's all. And we have been discussing it. I'm not a suspect, so why does it matter?"

"Everyone is technically a suspect. Especially if you knew the victim."

That honestly hadn't occurred to her. "I was in my hotel suite until nine forty-five. I took the train to the station, and then found him. I can prove I was at home until then because I had a fight with my ex-husband in the hallway right before I left. I'm sure at least someone had to have heard us."

"No one said you had to prove an alibi right now. We're a long way from that. We're just gathering facts right now." He stood up and gathered his trash. "You're right, let's go back to your casino."

"It's not mine." Gwenna picked up her coffee cup and followed him to the garbage, pitching hers after his. "It's Ethan's."

"But you live there, right?"

"Yes." Gwenna stuck her hands in her front pockets, suddenly wondering why it bothered her to admit that. "For now."

"So you moved from England a few months ago?"

"Five months ago."

"And what do you do for a living, Gwenna?"

That was a loaded question, though Nate couldn't possibly know that. "Not a damn thing."

---

Chapter Four

 

Nate Thomas had parked his car in the casino garage next to Gwenna's reserved spot, and now he was following her into the building, wondering if the reason he'd originally thought she wasn't all that smart was because she was actually incredibly sheltered. Naive as opposed to dimwitted. While she had refused to elaborate, Gwenna had made it sound like she didn't work. She had clearly gotten married at a young age, if she had already been divorced for three years. And she was living inside her brother's pimped-out casino, which was about as far from reality as you could get.

A doorman gave Gwenna a big smile as he swung open the door for her. "Good evening, Ms. Carrick, how are you?"

"Fine, thanks, Reginald. How are you tonight?"

"Oh, can't complain." The doorman was tall and broad and held the door cheerfully for Gwenna. Then he seemed to realize Nate was actually with her as opposed to just randomly walking behind her. "Who's your friend?" he asked, voice dripping with suspicion.

"This is Detective Thomas. He's here to ask me some questions." Gwenna stopped and put her hand on the doorman's sleeve. "I was at the train station and I found some poor man's body. He'd been killed, Reginald. It was horrific."

"What!" Reginald looked outraged. "That's no good, Ms. Carrick. That's just wrong."

"You've hit it exactly."

"Does Mr. Carrick know?"

"No, thank God. And let's not tell him just yet, okay?"

"Sure, whatever you say."

"Thank you, dear."

Maybe it was being British, but sometimes Nate thought Gwenna sounded a hell of a lot like his grandmother. Yet she was young and beautiful, not a wrinkle or orthopedic shoe in sight. The contrast was a curiosity he wanted to explore. There was something totally enigmatic about her. The pieces to the puzzle seemed to jumble more, and none of them fit anywhere that he could find.

"There's a restaurant over here that is only open for breakfast. It's just a little diner thing. We can go in here if you like." She paused in the entrance to the grand lobby, skirting a glass end table. "Oh, wait, I have a better idea. We'll go in the spa. It's closed for the night and it has really lovely velvet couches."

He wanted to suggest they just go up to her place, but he knew that was wrong on a whole lot of levels. One, it would sound like a come-on, which he didn't mean. Not really. Two, he had just lectured her on dangerous behavior. Encouraging her to take a strange guy up to her room—even if was him—would encourage her carelessness. He had to take the high road, even if sitting in a darkened spa sounded way less appealing than just hanging out in her place. She'd said she had a suite, and he was betting it had a killer view of the Strip. But the truth was, the whole fact that he'd followed her in his car to the casino in the first place showed his judgment wasn't all that rock solid at the moment, so he should just let her call the shots. He wasn't even sure what the hell he was doing there.

Maybe that wasn't true. It had to do with Kyra, and the fact that he felt a little sick to his stomach, lonely, sad, and angry. He hadn't wanted to go home, but neither did he want to hang out in the lobby of a busy, crowded casino. Going to Gwenna's suite would probably be a mistake, though, given his shaky frame of mind, so the spa was really the best all-around idea.

And shit, if he lost it and blubbered, at least the lights would be dim.

"Sounds like a plan."

She smiled at him, and Nate felt something he sure in the hell shouldn't. It was a kick of lust, right where it counted. Which scared the crap out of him. The mind was weak at the moment, yet the body still was totally functioning, which made this a bad thing. A stupid idea. This was him with his head up his ass if he went up that elevator with her.

He went.

Which meant he was a total idiot.

But he was on the edge, and he knew it. Everything he felt, everything he'd lost, the hurt, the fear, the bitterness, swirled around inside him and threatened to take him down. He was going to crack, soon, the pressure pulling inside his skull, the lack of sleep, that last phone call to his parents, the indignity of yet another mindless murder on tonight of all nights, pushing and tugging at him.

It was Gwenna Carrick or a bottle of Jack, and she was a hell of lot more attractive than him drunk.

"What floor?" he asked as they stepped into an elevator with a thirty-something couple who were leaning dangerously close to each other.

"Sixteen."

Gwenna glanced over at the pair dressed in cocktail party clothes. Nate watched her eyes widen a little at the fact that the couple were now making out vigorously. With lots of hand, tongue, and leg movement. Well, that was special. Shifting a little to block her view, aware that the guy's hand had just gone up the woman's skirt, Nate tried to think of something inane and conversational to say. "So…"

He had nothing. Especially since Gwenna had moved a little to see around him.

Instead of being appalled at the public fondling, she looked curious. Intrigued. She wet her lips. His own immediate and painful reaction to that was an instant boner. No hesitation, no slow inflate, just up, hard, and ready to go.

Which was more disgusting than the happy gropers behind him. He couldn't understand how he could get an erection on the same night he'd been to a crime scene and watched his sister die. It was like confirmation of everything he'd ever been told by his grandmother—his animalistic male body was totally disconnected from his emotions.

On the other hand, maybe it was just a coping mechanism of some kind. Distract him from the rough stuff with a simple physical response. That sounded right-on with what a therapist would tell him.

But he was starting to think maybe he should have stuck to the Jack Daniels idea, because the last thing he or Gwenna Carrick needed was a one-night stand.

The elevator dinged right as the woman let out an encouraging moan in the small space, and her back slammed against the wall from a particularly aggressive lunge at her breasts by her guy.

"This is our floor," Gwenna said.

Thank God.

They stepped off as Gwenna murmured, "Well, those two are in for a fun night."

"Doesn't feel very fair, does it?" he said, glancing into the empty spa as she used a key card to open the locked door. "They're going up without a care in the world to bang each other's brains out, and here we are. Day from hell for both of us."

She glanced back at him, blue eyes filled with compassion. "I think it's safe to say yours has been worse than mine."

Damn, she really was beautiful. Just pale and soft, all pink lips and shiny hair.

What would she do if he just reached over and kissed her? If he just grabbed on, held tight, and buried himself and all his thoughts inside her?

She'd probably kill him or file a rape report.

God, he was wrecked. He needed to go home. "Maybe I should just go, Gwenna. I'm fucking walking the edge here… I don't think I'm very good company."

"Don't go." Moving in closer to him, her hair brushed along his jaw, her petite hands touching his chest. "I want you to stay."

Then she tilted her head up to look at him, her fair skin stark in the muted glow from the overnight lights.

"Why?" he asked, standing stiffly, aware of how soft she felt, how delicate and feminine, and how much bigger he was than her. The scent of her was delicious—fruity and womanly, with a hint of coffee—and Nate wanted to run his fingers through her pale, silken hair and just let it go, let it all go.

"Because I don't want to be alone," she said simply. "And neither do you."

Then she lifted her mouth and kissed him.

Nate hadn't expected her to do it, not really, even when he'd been considering the same damn thing, but Gwenna didn't hesitate. She just covered his mouth with hers and kissed him with a hell of a lot of passion. She tasted as good as she smelled, and her lips were tiny and soft, maybe a little lacking in finesse, but taking him with confidence and enthusiasm. It was a damn good kiss, one that ended too soon.

When she pulled back, he lifted an eyebrow. "What exactly are we doing here?"

"We're being alive, that's what we're doing."

A part of his brain, the small bit that was still functioning, wondered if she were conning him. If she knew more about the murder than she'd let on, this could be just a way to distract him. Nate thought he was damn good at reading people, though, and he got a different vibe from Gwenna. She didn't come off as savvy enough to be a con or a liar, and that pain in her eyes when she talked about her daughter had been real, and so had her horror when discussing the victim's condition. He'd stake his badge on it that she was legit.

Not that he really cared much at the moment. He suspected he'd take what she was offering anyway, even if she was a boldfaced lying user. It felt too damn good to have her body up against his.

Let it go. That's what he really needed. He just had to let it all go so he didn't completely and totally lose it, and that's what Gwenna was offering him.

Nate buried his hands in her hair on either side of her temples, letting the silky wheat-colored strands slip over his rough, callused skin. "Are you sure?" he asked, giving her a chance to back out. Because he wasn't playing around. If they started, they were damn well going to finish.

Her hands slid around his neck, and she shifted her leg so they had below-the-belt contact. "Absolutely positive."

Good enough for him. Nate gripped her hair tighter and drew her face to him, letting his lips collide with hers in a crushing, take-it-or-leave-it kind of kiss, wanting to touch and taste her with a pounding urgency. Her breath came hot and fast, mouth opening for him with little coaxing. His tongue slid inside, thrusting and dominating, and he pushed his swollen dick against her, frustrated that the awkward shove only made her bounce away from him, breaking contact.

They needed a bed. Or a couch. The wall was closer still, so Nate turned Gwenna and walked her back three feet, pinning her against the wall next to the reception desk. Better. He could get a firm hold on her hair, and grind his hips against hers while he kissed the daylights out of her. It occurred to him that maybe he should ease up, since she was petite, kind of delicate-looking, and a total stranger, but he dismissed that idea. He wasn't being rough, just aggressive, and she was taking it. Her eyes were rolled back, fingernails digging into his back, hips rising up to collide with his in a hard, desperate thrust.

Which was fucking hot. Nate disregarded all thoughts that had logic or caution attached to them and dove in, yanking Gwenna's T-shirt off over her head, messing her hair up. The shirt hit the floor and she made a futile effort to swipe stray hanks of hair off her face before giving up with a moan, while he bent over and sucked the peak of her breast. Her flesh was smooth and firm, her chest small and proportionate to the rest of her body, and Nate wanted all of it. With grappling fingers, he undid the clasp on her back and just ripped the bra off, barely noting that it was red as it followed her shirt to the carpet.

"Oh, yes," she said in a ragged voice when his mouth closed over her tight nipple. "Wow. That's really very pleasant."

He was thinking the same thing. She tasted delicious. He moved all over, from one nipple to the other and back again, loving the way his tongue slid easily across her smooth skin. Shifting downward, he traced over her ribs, dipped his tongue into her bellybutton, which made her jump, and since her jeans were so loose, managing to probe beneath the waistband in a brutal tease for both of them. Nate wanted at all of her, patience for the day completely wiped out.

Everything felt sharp and fast and hot, and he popped her snap with his right hand, while reaching into his back pocket with his left. He was almost positive he had a condom in his wallet since he'd made a habit of always keeping one on hand after a pregnancy scare with a girlfriend in college. He was good about replacing it when he used one, and he pulled the wallet out with jerky motions, determined to shoot himself if there wasn't one in there.

But there was, and he worked it out, letting the wallet fall from his fingers as he brought his attention back to Gwenna. She was holding on to the belt loops of his jeans, her chest heaving up and down in arousal, her cheeks pink, hair tousled. Her pants had slid down a little, undone and half-zipped, and there were red panties peeking up at him. She had her eyes closed, looking like without the support of the wall she'd be on the floor in a puddle.

Good.

Nate went down on his knees and tugged her jeans and panties down with one shift motion. A glance up showed her eyes flying open in surprise. He didn't give her time to speak, just closed the distance between them and kissed between her thighs, coaxing her legs apart with his thumbs. She was a true blond, skin flawless, body arching toward him. Nate buried his tongue into her, finding her clitoris and tasting it with bold, demanding strokes.

Gwenna was making rapid sounds of distress, her moans growing louder, frantic, hands burrowing into his hair and clamping down. Her arousal turned him on, made him so hard he ached with it, his whole body hot and tight, ready for release. He was light-headed, like he wasn't taking in enough oxygen, the room silent and dark around them, his control skittering and escaping. He stroked harder, deeper, possessively, wanting to taste her everywhere, sucking on the flesh of her thighs, and scraping his teeth across her swollen and slick clitoris.

Her legs trembled beneath his fingers and she went up on her toes, shifting away from him, trying to escape his touch. Nate knew she was going to have an orgasm, could feel the tenseness in her muscles, feel it in the way she yanked on his hair. He didn't want her there yet, not without him inside her.

So Nate stood up quickly, ignoring the pop in his left knee, and flattened his hand against the wall.

"Don't stop," she demanded, smacking his arm, which struck him as both hilarious and hotter than hell.

"I'm not stopping," he murmured, lips against hers, rubbing his erection between her thighs, encouraging her to spread further.

"It feels stopped to me," she panted.

Nate buried his head into her hair and thrust inside her with both abandonment and gratitude, a biting urgency, and hot, glorious desperation.

The tightness of her wrapped around him, stroking and milking his cock, the acute pleasure even better than he could have ever imagined.

It took all of thirty seconds to realize he wasn't going to make this time last very long. He was gone.

 

 

Gwenna couldn't believe she was standing against a wall in the chichi spa with a penis deep inside her. She wasn't exactly sure how it had happened, and if anyone had suggested to her three hours earlier that she would have sex vertically with a police detective before the night was out, she would have declared that person utterly insane. But it seemed the insane one was her, because she was in fact having sex with a virtual stranger after three hundred years of celibacy.

At least it was holding up to the wait. Nate was frantic in his attentions, aggressive and hungry, and she had to admit, she rather liked that. She wasn't sure she could have handled the intimacy of slow and explorative, but this fast and furious she was absolutely fine with. It matched her mood, her sense of hysteria at finding that man's body, at her frustration over still grieving for her daughter after so many years, her irritating helplessness that she would never, ever be able to fully disconnect herself from Roberto.

All of that mattered less when she was feeling the brutal slap and push of Nate Thomas thrusting into her. It did make her feel alive, made her vibrantly aware of her body, of the strength and power she had as a vampire. On her tiptoes, pants around her ankles, cool air and Nate's mouth sliding over her bare skin, she should have been embarrassed, should have felt self-conscious that she was for all practical purposes naked, while he was still fully dressed in his jeans and T-shirt.

But she didn't. She embraced the sensation of her bum scraping against the wall, her sandal straps digging into the tops of her feet, his fingers gripping at her waist, his penis hard and full inside her wetness, coaxing to life wants and needs she had thought were long gone.

Gwenna had never considered herself a particularly sexual person. She hadn't missed sex since her divorce, had never bothered to seek it out. But this was new and different and all-consuming. This was intense, and desperate, and overwhelming.

"Nate," she said raggedly, suddenly unsure, overpowered by all the sensations in her body, in her heart, at the feeling that she'd completely and totally lost all control. That the world as she knew it, had lived it, understood it, was shifting and cracking.

"Yeah?" He nipped at her jaw, her lips.

"I…" She shifted restlessly, mouth hot, throat tight, legs tensed. "I… don't know."

"Don't fight it, Gwenna, let it happen." Nate slowed down his pace, pulled way out, making her feel denied, and then slid back into her fully, deep.

The ability to speak, however incoherently, completely shattered. That movement, that whatever the hell he was doing, robbed her of words, thoughts. She just grabbed on to his arms and gave in to the orgasm, letting it sweep over her, a hot, shuddering rush of ecstasy.

She was aware of Nate moving faster again, of his breathing growing deeper, low grunts coming from him as he went over the edge himself, pounding hard through his orgasm, but she didn't react. Couldn't react. She just clung to him, speechless and insensible from pleasure.

Bloody hell.

The man knew how to shag.

And she had forgotten how to breathe.

They both stood shuddering and sucking in air for a minute, neither inclined to move. Then Nate was gathering her in his arms and peeling her off the wall when the phone rang, startling them both. Gwenna glanced over at it, feeling a little guilty. They were still in the spa's lobby, which was remarkably tacky. This had not been at all what she'd had in mind when she'd suggested a chat on the spa sofa. She could only imagine what Nate was thinking of her. Sense of relaxation and wonder already evaporating, Gwenna felt anxiety crash back in on her as the phone continued to ring incessantly. Anyone could have just strolled off the elevator and seen them. That would have made a pretty shot.

Obviously not having the same concerns, Nate gave a soft laugh, nuzzling her neck a little. "Sorry, I got a little carried away."

That was the thing about just giving in to passion and tossing over every inhibition she'd ever had. It was good while it lasted, but suddenly she felt awkward as hell. How in the world did she bend over gracefully to pull her pants back up?

The phone stopped ringing. Then immediately started again. As did her mobile phone in her pants pocket. That really destroyed her last shred of calm. "Oh, damn, maybe I should answer that."

"Why?" Nate asked, his expression indicating he thought the suggestion was absolutely ludicrous.

Resenting that he could just zip his fly up and be squared away and ready to head back out into the world, Gwenna tried to slide down the wall, bending her knees a little, to reach her dropped jeans. She missed gowns. This would have simply required dropping her skirts back over her legs in the nineteenth century. Not that she would know from actual experience. She hadn't taken to having sex with strangers standing up until just that very day.

"Because it could be important."

"Or more likely it's your ex trying to control you."

Well, there was that.

The spa phone began to ring yet a third time, and they both heard the elevator ding. Someone was getting off on their floor.

"Oh, damn," Gwenna said, panicking. No longer worried about how it would look from Nate's point of view, she bent over and yanked up her jeans, buttoning them posthaste despite the fact that her panties bunched painfully in parts that were sensitive and sore and didn't appreciate the rough treatment.

Nate grabbed her T-shirt off the floor and handed it to her before turning around and blocking her from view. She was yanking it over her head when she heard a voice say in surprise, "Ms. Carrick?"

Oh, lovely. It was Ethan's bodyguard and head of hotel security.

"Yes, Sam, it's me," she said, straightening her shirt and hair before peering around Nate's arm. "Can I help you?"

It really was unfortunate that even as a vampire she blushed. She could feel her cheeks burning. And there was no hope he wouldn't notice her blush or her state of disheveled dress, even though the room wasn't fully lit, because he was a vampire, too. With an acute sense of smell.

"I just wanted to make sure you're alright and that you don't need anything. We, uh, saw you come in here on the security cameras."

Oh, God. Mortification had a name and it was Gwenna Carrick. But at least she could reassure herself that they hadn't seen her on camera, just Nate. It would have been obvious to Sam that Nate was having sex with a vampire, given the lack of a visible partner on tape, and he had probably felt obligated for security reasons to at least investigate who that vampire might be. Ethan's former secretary, Kelsey Columbia, had been notorious for taking mortal men up to the office suite for quickies, but Kelsey wasn't allowed unsupervised in the building anymore since she had run off and married Ringo Columbia, an assassin and heroin addict.

"I'm fine, thanks so much. Sorry to cause trouble." Or more sorry she hadn't been smarter. Damn, she should have just taken Nate to her room. But she had been worried about how that would look to him or to any staff who might see her entering her room with an unidentified man. It was safe to say that this looked worse.

Sam hesitated, adjusting his cell phone headset on his ear. "Okay, then. Have a good night."

He turned around and headed back toward the elevator. Gwenna bit her lip. "Sam?"

"Yes?"

"You're going to tell Mr. Carrick about this, aren't you?" It was his job, she knew that, to inform Ethan of anything out of the ordinary. This certainly qualified as that.

But Sam shook his head. "Not if you don't want me to. If something has no bearing on hotel and casino security, I'm not obligated to tell Mr. Carrick about it."

He was letting her off the hook, sweet man. But Gwenna suddenly found that she was tired of worrying about her brother's reaction to her behavior. The goal she had set for herself was independence, and that had to start with being honest with her brother—telling him she loved him, but she needed to live her own life.

"No, that's fine, Sam. Feel free to tell Ethan. Or I can mention it to him myself. I shouldn't be up here. Though if you don't mind, I'd like the tape destroyed."

Sam almost grinned. She saw his mouth tilt up before he caught himself. "Sure thing." He nodded. "Good night."

As the elevator doors closed, Nate turned back to her. He looked amused himself. "Did we just make a sex tape?"

"It seems that way." At least he didn't appear angry with her.

"I wish I had known. I would have made sure my good side was facing the camera."

Gwenna laughed in spite of her lingering embarrassment. "Which side is your good side?"

"You tell me." His arm went around her waist, and he pulled her to him.

She liked the way he did that, so casually, so easily.

It seemed perfectly natural to say what she was thinking. "The front side. Bottom half."

"Yeah? Want to see it again? Somewhere without cameras?"

This was it. She could walk away now, astonished that she had felt such passion, but still slightly embarrassed that she had, or she could really thrust herself out of her comfort zone and explore the desire Nate inspired in her.

They had all night.

She had nowhere to be.

She'd had several pints of blood before heading out to meet Slash.

And her brother and ex-husband were somewhere else.

"I think I just might like that." Gwenna kissed him deeply. "The massage rooms don't have cameras."

"Lead the way."

She just loved the sound of that.

---

Chapter Five

 

Ringo Columbia sat in the ugly chair Kelsey had picked out for their new apartment and tried to focus on the two men in front of him.

Maybe he'd used a little too much this time, because he had the serious feeling that he was going to throw up. Just lean forward and hurl out all that blood, all that heroin, all his innards and breath and control. He hated this pain, this nausea, hated that no one would just leave him the fuck alone.

"Go away," he told Donatelli's bodyguards, Smith and Williams.

"You know we can't do that," Williams said, shaking his thick head back and forth. "You've got to return the stuff or pay for it."

"I can't return it." He'd shot up almost all of it, desperate enough that he'd skipped his preferred method of drinking his heroin in blood. This time he'd been so hungry for it, he'd just taken a needle and arm-popped it, not even looking for a vein. "And I don't have the money. So go away."

That would be the best thing, if they would just get out and leave him alone. He wanted to be alone. That seemed easy enough to him. Just open the door and disappear. But they wouldn't and it made him feel bitter as hell. What the fuck did he ever do to them?

Williams nailed him in the face with his fist, the force snapping Ringo's head back while Smith started a search of the apartment, ripping open their kitchen cabinets and desk drawers. Kelsey was going to be pissed. She worked her skinny ass off keeping their place clean and filled with weird little decorative shit, like pictures of apples and stands with scented candles. He could never figure out what was so great about having their house stink like cinnamon all the time, but she dug it.

Ringo should move out of the chair. He should stand up and kill both of the ugly motherfuckers, just take them out. He was faster and smarter and he should be able to fix this.

But he couldn't stand, not when he felt so sick and strung out, and the hazy sleepiness blanketed over the stomach rot and pounding skull. He took another hit to the head, and he groaned at the pain, leaning over the side of the chair and puking on the carpet.

Williams made a sound of disgust and stepped back. Good. Ringo hoped he'd leave, but the front door opened and he heard Kelsey's voice.

"What's going on here?"

"Hey, baby," he said, struggling to keep his eyes open. It would be so much easier to just let them close, to fall asleep and have the voices and the pain disappear.

Cold water hit him in the face. "Shit!" He jerked upright in the chair. His wife had thrown a glass of water all over him. "What the hell was that for?"

She stood there, her skinny legs apart, full lips pursed, the empty glass in her hand. "While you're just sitting there sleeping, they're wrecking our apartment."

"I wasn't sleeping." Was he? He wasn't sure. Now that he looked around, it seemed like Smith had made a lot of progress on destroying the room. There were cushions, papers, drawers pulled out everywhere.

"Okay, so you've been resting your eyes for the last ten minutes. Whatever. Call it what you want. Now get these guys out of here, Ringo." Her voice veered into whining. He really hated when she whined.

"I'd love to, but I don't think they're going to leave without their money, babe. Got any cash?"

Her shoulders slumped, her sexy little black shirt shifting over and exposing her shoulder. Ringo thought Kelsey was just the prettiest little stupid woman he'd ever met, though her brand of stupid was different than true dumbness. Kelsey was more random than idiotic, and she had some really killer qualities that he liked. He really did love her. He liked the way she giggled. But damn it, she wasn't giggling much anymore. That was a big-ass shame. She was a good giggler.

"No, I don't have any money." Kelsey turned to Smith. "How much?"

"Two grand."

"Ringo!" Her horrified expression made him ashamed, which made him angry.

"What? I just needed a little, Kels. That's all. You know what that's like." Hell, she'd been a user herself when she was a mortal. So fuck her. She wasn't any better than he was.

"Can you give us some time?" she asked Williams. "A couple of weeks?"

"I don't think so." The asshole shook his head and took one of Kelsey's scented candles and tossed it up in the air with his thick hands. "You'd have to really motivate me to risk Donatelli getting pissed at me for failing to deliver right away."

"What? A cut for you?"

"Maybe."

Ringo realized that Williams was leering at his wife, rolling his eyes up and down over her body. He sat up straighten Maybe they could take advantage of that, keep the monkey off their back for a few weeks. "So what if Kelsey did a favor for both of you?"

"What kind of favor?"

There were limits on what he'd let these losers do to his wife, but a little oral sex had never killed anyone, and it would give them some time to find the money. Then he wouldn't have to give back the little bit of heroin he still had left. "Kelsey's a fun girl. Fucking amazing on her knees, as she can demonstrate for you if you're interested."

Smith smiled. "I might consider that. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Kelsey?"

But Kelsey didn't say anything. She just turned on her heel and went into their bedroom.

"I didn't mean right now, babe," Ringo called to her. Damn, her negotiation skills sucked. "Wait until they say yes first."

"Yes," Smith said.

Williams shook his head. "No."

Frustrated, Ringo was about to argue with him, try to persuade him to take a good deal, when he realized that Kelsey had come back out of the bedroom with a suitcase rolling behind her. That didn't make any sense to him. "What the fuck are you doing?"

"I'm leaving you."

It took him a full ten seconds to process her words. "What?" She didn't mean like leave him for good, did she? She couldn't mean that. Kelsey loved him.

"I'm moving out. You can deal with your addiction, these guys, Donatelli, all by yourself. I'm done."

Well, that sucked. "Come on. Let's talk about this." Ringo fought to keep his eyelids open. Shit, he was sleepy, and he just wanted to sink back and enjoy the haze. But he didn't want his wife to leave him. He didn't. "What's the problem?"

Her lip trembled as she grabbed her purse off the kitchen table. "Oh, I don't know, the fact that you offered to prostitute me for your drugs. That kind of says something about our relationship. You don't respect me. I'm not a priority to you."

Great, she was going into psychobabble land on him. "Oh, my God, come on. I'm sorry, shit, it just seemed like a fast fix. Don't get all worked up, it's just a blow job. You should want to help me, you know. You should support me."

She opened her mouth, than snapped it shut again. She turned to Williams. "Do what you have to do. But I'm just asking you, as a favor to me, not to kill him."

And with that his wife left. Just walked out, rolling her little prissy pink suitcase behind him, like she didn't have a fucking care in the world. Leaving him with Dumb and Dumber and a sick stomach and no money.

So much for loyalty. Love.

Ringo didn't even bother to duck the next blow. He just let it nail him dead on, rattling his teeth and bursting the skin on his cheek open. Wishing Kelsey had told them to kill him, he closed his eyes. He was already in hell. Might as well make it official.

And when he got there, he was going to make damn sure Donatelli followed right after him.

 

 

Nate was actually surprised that Gwenna hadn't just sent him packing with a thanks and a don't call me, I'll call you. That hadn't exactly been his smoothest sexual encounter, and while he knew she'd had an orgasm, it had all been a little fast and furious. In the midst of it, he had been positive she'd been digging it, had felt her enthusiasm and her wild abandonment. But it seemed like the second he pulled it out, she was having regrets, trying to cover her nakedness up, and worrying about her phone ringing. Then she had been embarrassed as hell by the security guard and Nate had figured the night was over and he should be grateful for what he'd gotten.

But Gwenna had come back with the idea of slipping into a massage room and he was smart enough not to question fortune when it shined on him. Now he was kissing the bejeezus out of her on a massage table and feeling damn grateful she was giving him a chance to go back into the game. This time he was going to draw things out, build a little suspense, make her completely satisfied and glad she'd spent the night with him, not waking up in the morning wondering why the hell she'd had sex with a stranger.

To that end, he was employing a good old-fashioned make-out session, no rushing, no groping, just kissing slow and easy, like they were a raw sixteen and lip locking was enough to satisfy. He could feel her relaxing beneath him, her knees sinking back down to the table, her hands letting go of the death grip she'd had on the front of his shirt. When he'd laid her down, she hadn't resisted, but she hadn't exactly embraced the idea either. She had stiffened, knees up in the air, hands pressing against him like she was holding him at bay, her head slightly up off the pillow.

But now she was sort of melting onto the bed, all of her body relaxing and opening for him, her hair spread out around her head, her breathing soft and languid. Nate ran his tongue across her bottom lip, enjoying the sound she made. It was a tiny sigh, a release, a letting go. That was what he wanted, what they both needed. Here in the narrow semidark room, with a lingering scent of earthy candle and lotions, there was nothing to worry about. No reality. Just each other and pleasure, for a short space of time, before it would all crash back in on them.

Nate wasn't all that comfortable half standing, half leaning over her on the bed, but he was capable of compartmentalizing. He could ignore his calf muscle burning for the privilege of running his finger over her smooth cheek, down her neck, across her shoulder. Gwenna had amazing skin, with absolutely no imperfections anywhere. It was like brushing his lips over satin sheets, cool and sleek and expensive. He was very conscious of how big and rough and guy he was next to her, and he liked that. She was delicate and slight and all things soft and feminine.

"This is very nice," she murmured, breaking their kiss. "Did you notice the bed is heated? It feels delicious."

He had noticed because it was the last thing in the world he needed. He was generating plenty of heat on his own and knew if he lay down on the massage table with her, he was going to break out into a massive sweat. But he had noticed that Gwenna's skin tended to be always cold. She must have a slow metabolism or something. "Glad you like it. I bet it would feel even better under the blanket." With her clothes off.

"We're not going to fit in here together, you do know that, don't you?" She looked up at him with a slight smile.

God, her blue eyes were so gorgeous he could just about eat them. When he stared into their depths, when he saw all that pain, all that melancholy, all that determination, he wanted to bury himself in her and never, ever leave. It was scary as hell, but very compelling. Irresistible.

"We'll fit. We just have to do a little prep work." Nate ripped his shirt off over his head. "Your turn."

A spot of color appeared in her cheeks, but she sat up and removed her T-shirt, too, though she kept it bunched in front of her.

"You know what's coming next, don't you?" he asked, for some reason hoping he wouldn't actually have to say they needed to both take their pants off before he climbed under that blanket with her. Otherwise, once they were under, one of them was going to topple to the floor if they tried to undress on the narrow bed.

Expecting her to dance around what he was saying, she stunned him by saying, "Well, I'm hoping gobs of brilliant sex is coming next. Please tell me I'm right."

Nate let out a laugh. Gwenna was full of surprises. Good ones. "You are absolutely one hundred percent correct. But we have to ditch the jeans to make this work." To put action to his words, Nate undid his pants and got rid of them in two seconds. The boxer briefs followed suit.

Gwenna wasn't taking her jeans off, which was disappointing. She was too busy ogling him to undress, which he had to admit was hot. It made his cock jump a little at the clear appreciation she was showing. Her eyes went wide, and her pink lips formed an "O" at his movement, and her tongue flicked out to lick her lip. Nate forgave her for still having clothes on. Especially when she rolled on her side and wrapped a hand around him, stroking lightly up and down.

"Do you mind?" she asked.

Give him a minute to think about that. Hell, no. "Not at all."

"You're bigger than I expected," she murmured, using both hands to glide up and down on his shaft, fingers tickling over his balls.

Wait a minute. Even though the grip of pleasure, Nate wondered what that statement implied. "Bigger than you expected before or after I was actually inside you?"

Her fingers stilled. She gave a soft laugh. "Sorry. I meant before. You know, in general. Bigger."

Alright then. "I've never made a study out of it, but I'm glad I don't fall short in your eyes." And when was she going to start moving again? Nate thrust his erection into her cupped hand, trying to encourage her to stroke again.

She took the hint. "No, you definitely don't fall short."

Then she leaned forward and wrapped her lips around him. Nate closed his eyes and groaned. Wow. That was a beautiful thing.

Gwenna was shocking herself, but only in the best of ways. She couldn't believe she'd just taken it upon herself to pull Nate's erection into her mouth. But when she had turned on her side, it had been right there, and she had been curious. His whole body was muscular and firm, with hair in various places, lending to his overall rugged and masculine appearance, and his erection had added to the singularly attractive picture. Everything about him shouted male, and she had wanted to touch him, explore the way his flesh felt.

She also had the urge to taste his blood, to sink her fangs into his erection and suck on that pulsing hot liquid, but she knew the only way to do that was to put Nate under a glamour, and that wouldn't be right. He should have the option to say yes or no to her nipping some blood off him, which would require explaining that yes, in fact, she truly was a vampire. Which wasn't a conversation for the moment. They had more important things to take care of right now.

Like the fact that she was desperately aroused yet again, and amazed at that feeling. But as she slid her mouth up and down over Nate's flesh, she had a sexual epiphany. This actually felt astonishingly good. Tasted delicious. Felt powerful. Like she held the key to his control in her movements. A shift here, a lick there, and she could change the tenor of his pleasure, increase his moans, feel his body tense in ecstasy. It was exciting to register that kind of equality, that kind of give-and-take between them, that it wasn't him dominating the experience. The way she was used to with Roberto.

This was completely different, this was mutual pleasure, and she wanted to explore it fully. She took Nate into her mouth over and over until he was slick with her saliva, his hands gripping the back of her head, his heart pounding loudly in her vampire ears, and her own body was hot and tight and aching with desire. Finally, she broke off, breathing hard, her lips wet and swollen.

"Holy crap, Gwenna." Nate sucked in some air and shuddered. "You're killing me."

"But in a good way, right?" she asked, lying on her back, and shrugging out of her jeans, making sure she did it slowly, human style, as opposed to with vampire speed, which she would prefer. Yet whisking her pants off before he could blink was sure to raise questions at a time when she didn't feel like talking.

"Absolutely in a good way." Nate bent over, dug around in his pants.

"What are you doing?" Back on her side, she leaned over and studied his bum. Very nice. Tight.

"I'm looking for a condom."

Knowing there was no way to convey to him that she could neither get pregnant, nor give or receive a sexually transmitted disease, she kept quiet.

"Shit! I only had one." Nate's face was scrunched up in frustration, his voice angry.

Gwenna felt the need to soothe him, despite her own very real disappointment. She had truly wanted him inside her a second time. But she was willing to get over it and focus on oral sex. That's how big about it she was prepared to be. She reached out and traced her fingers over his abdomen. "No matter. We'll still find things to do, I'm sure." Dropping her wrist, she enclosed his erection with her palm. "Now just relax. You've gotten tense."

His teeth were gritted. "That makes me tense. In a good way. I could run downstairs and get some condoms… there's got to be a store open somewhere in this place. It's a casino. You can buy everything twenty-four/seven in a casino."

But Gwenna was feeling too in the moment to bother. She just shook her head. "Don't worry about it. Come onto this bed with me, Nate." Letting go of him, she kicked the blanket off her body with her feet.

It was a moment of pure and total liberation, watching his face go dark with desire, hearing his breath hitch. No man but her ex had ever seen her completely unclothed like that, and she wanted to revel in the feeling, savor the sensation that Nate found her attractive.

"You're amazingly beautiful," he said, eyes sweeping from head to toe and back again. "I'm a cop, and not good at saying pretty things, but it's true. You're just… perfect."

Her instinct was to point out all the things that were wrong with her, categorize all the flaws, both physical and emotional. To tell him that she was too pale, too short, too sickly looking, and that she wasn't perfect because she had wasted nine hundred years of life doing virtually nothing of importance. But the point was to stop recriminating, to live in the moment, to accept each day as is and enjoy it, so she held on to that, smiled, believing Nate. "Thank you."

"Scoot over."

She expected him to climb on the bed with her, snuggle up alongside her, kiss her. But of course that would essentially be foreplay to penetration, and they couldn't do that. It was logical, the action he took, but she was still wholly unprepared for him to get on the bed on his side. In the opposite direction of her, legs by her face, so that his head was right down by her… "Oh!"

Embarrassed by both the action and her verbal reaction, Gwenna bit her lip as his tongue slid across her clitoris. She honestly had not been at all prepared for that. Nor had she anticipated his penis would be lingering in front of her face in a not so subtle invitation.

They were on their sides. They were head to feet, both ends, on a massage table. And he was a casual acquaintance, if you could even call it that. She should be astonished at herself. Absolutely and utterly ashamed.

Gwenna licked the head of his shaft with her tongue, tasting the sweet sticky fluid there. No, she wasn't feeling particularly guilty, regretful, or cautious. If she'd got this far, she was damn well going to experience all the night had to offer.

He made sounds of encouragement between his own ministrations. Gwenna was a little overwhelmed by the simultaneous sensations of him stroking between her thighs with his tongue while she took the length of him past her lips. It was delicious, heated, frantic. They quickly found a rhythm, him sliding inside her at the same time his cock went deep into her mouth, and Gwenna lost the ability to think rationally. Bloody hell, he was everywhere, filling every part of her, tripping off little pings of ecstasy all over her skin, her clitoris, her vaginal muscles. She could feel the tightness building, enjoying the echo between mouth and inner thighs. It was so good, it was almost too much, everything everywhere all at once, and she pulled back, knowing she was going to careen over the edge and lose control.

Nate's thighs were hard and muscular and she focused on them, reaching forward and giving in to the urge to nip at his warm flesh. Her fangs penetrated, tiny beads of his thick, rich blood dripping over her tongue. Nate jerked a little, his tongue pausing on her, but she squeezed his cock with her fingers, relaxing him back into motion, loving the intimacy of his flavor, his essence rolling back into her throat. It gave her a hint of his thoughts, too, a small mingling of his emotion with hers, the acute sensation of his pleasure blending and flowing over into her as she sucked, not drinking, just tasting. While his tongue stroked her, she broke contact with his thigh, licking her lips to take in the last lingering drops of his blood. At the moment she let him go, he plunged deep inside her and Gwenna gave in to her need and exploded.

It was an amazing feeling, that sensation of leaving her body entirely, of losing all muscular control and flipping around recklessly, wanting to back away from the acute pleasure and at the same time to sink more completely into it. He clamped on to her thigh to keep her from catapulting off the table as he stroked and tasted, and she wanted to scream with the delicious pleasure of it all.

This was what it was to feel alive.

And as her convulsions slowed down, she leaned over and took Nate back into her mouth to give him the same feeling. Gwenna could admit she wasn't the most skilled with this form of sex, especially not lying on her side on a massage table, but Nate seemed to appreciate what she was doing with tongue and lips, so she kept at it, indulging her own curiosity by wrapping her hand around him and sliding up and down as a follow-up to her mouth. He felt wonderful, hard and tight with strength, and when he tried to pull back, she held on, not wanting to let go.

Her eyes were closed, but she knew when he was about to come, felt the tenseness in his body, heard his strangled groan. Then he was there, and Gwenna held on, enjoying the thrill of knowing she'd pushed him to that point, feeling the power of the pleasure between them, appreciating the taste and feel of him.

After a solid sixty seconds of them both just lying on the bed panting, Gwenna's mind a blissful blank, her body undergoing happy little aftershocks, Nate stumbled off the table. By the time Gwenna could formulate the question to ask what he was doing, he had climbed back on, this time his head by hers, and pulled the blanket over them. There was no hesitation on his part, he just moved in right next to her, pulling her tight against him, his arm securely across her chest, stroking the side of her breast.

He kissed her hair, above her temple, which suddenly made her want to cry.

"It's good to be alive, isn't it?" he said.

Gwenna knew what he meant. Knew that he saw death on a regular basis, knew he had to struggle with the finite nature of people, the constant sense of loss. She suspected that he didn't understand how to deal with a personal loss, like that of his sister, when he was so used to emotionally distancing himself with homicide victims.

"Yes, it is." She wiggled backward, getting closer to him, wanting that warmth, wanting that feel of his naked flesh pressed against hers.

They lay in silence for a minute, Nate's mortal heart beating even and steady, his chest brushing hers as it rose and fell with his breathing.

"A few months ago, I had this guy use me as a hostage." Gwenna wasn't sure why she spoke, but it seemed like if anyone would understand what she had been feeling, it was Nate.

"What? Are you serious?" Nate gripped her a little tighter. "What happened?"

It was easy to remember that moment when Gregor, a Russian vampire, had used her as a bargaining chip with Roberto. What wasn't easy was admitting how it had made her feel. "I stood there when he grabbed me, and he put this knife to my throat… and I have to tell you, at that minute I wanted to die. I wanted to just let him take my life and take this pain and guilt and boredom and make me go away. And I am so very ashamed of that."

Gwenna wasn't sure what she expected or wanted Nate to say, maybe acknowledge she was a horrible person for having such thoughts, but he actually said, "I doubt that's how you really felt."

"Excuse me?" Gwenna tried to move out of his grip, but he held on tighter. How could he dismiss what she had just said? It was a deep confession and he had the utter nerve to say she didn't mean it? "I absolutely did feel that way."

"You don't want to die, Gwenna… if you did, you would be dead already. But he played into your guilt, your sadness, and for a minute, maybe, you thought it would be easier to just let it happen, let it all go, leave this world. But he didn't and you were glad, weren't you?"

She sighed. "Yes. I'm glad to be alive."

"You've been through a lot." It wasn't a question, but a statement, his lips brushing over the top of her head.

"No more than anyone else." That was where her shame came from. She had held on to her grief, her pain. "After it happened, I realized how very selfish and shortsighted I've been… I can't and shouldn't control the length of my life, but I can control what I do in the time that I'm here."

Nate gave her a small squeeze. "Amen to that, Gwenna."

Gwenna stared at the wall, reflecting how odd, yet how right, it felt to be there, to have taken an opportunity and seized it, how interesting and intriguing it was to talk to someone she hadn't known for five hundred years. How pleasant it was to let her sexuality back out to play after keeping it in check for three centuries.

She wanted to say something, to think of some way to say thank you to Nate without sounding like a complete idiot, but she suddenly realized something else.

Nate was asleep.

And her phone was ringing again.

---

Chapter Six

 

Gwenna listened to the phone ring and wrestled with her conscience. It had to be Roberto. Which meant she wasn't obligated to answer it. But she should turn it to vibrate so it didn't disturb Nate.

Reluctantly leaving the warm bed, and the warmer man, Gwenna slid out from under the blanket and searched for her purse, which was somewhere on the floor. Feeling a little odd scrambling around in the nude, she grabbed on to her panties and wiggled back into them. Then she added her T-shirt for good measure.

Her phone stopped ringing, then started again. She found it and was about to switch it to vibrate when she saw on the screen that it was Alexis calling. Her sister-in-law didn't ring her all that often, so Gwenna found it odd. She answered, horrible visions of something tragic having happened to Brittany, the baby, or Ethan.

"Yes?" She kept her voice low, very conscious of Nate two feet away. But he was sleeping hard, not stirring at all.

"Okay, we have a girl crisis. Are you busy or can you come over?"

Alexis always cut right to the heart of things. "What crisis?"

"Kelsey is here, crying her eyes out, and babbling about her marriage being over… she's totally destroyed, her mascara is all bleeding down her face, and I don't know what the hell to do with her. You know I suck at comforting people. Cara's back in Ireland, Brit's in the hospital, so you're all I've got. I need you to come and say the right things."

Walking out into the hall so she didn't disturb Nate, Gwenna wanted to both roll her eyes and laugh simultaneously. "I hardly know Kelsey. I doubt she'd appreciate me showing up right now."

"But you're very maternal. Please?"

Gwenna made a face. That was absolutely the way to make her feel guilty. Grateful she couldn't show up on the security cameras since she was rumpled in nothing but her T-shirt and panties, Gwenna paced back and forth. "Okay, fine, but I can't really see what I can do."

"Well, it will definitely be better than my handling of the situation. I told her she was better off without that junkie sack of shit husband of hers, and now she's locked in my bathroom bawling."

"You called her husband a junkie sack of shit?" Gwenna sometimes suspected Alexis was missing the gene for tact.

"It's the truth." Alexis sounded defensive. "You've met Ringo. He's a waste of space."

Gwenna had met Ringo only once at Roberto's when she had gone to discuss her ex-husband's stubborn insistence on continuing to pay her alimony she neither needed nor wanted. Kelsey's husband had been quiet, clearly a drug abuser, though Gwenna had felt more desperation from him than anything else. He'd looked like he was in a silent agony, begging for a way out. She hadn't sensed any violence from him, and she believed everyone deserved a second chance, despite what Alexis was always saying about every offender being a repeat offender waiting to happen.

Which was probably all the more reason that she couldn't justify sitting in a massage room watching Nate sleep when Kelsey was hurting. "Alright, give me a few minutes. I need to pop by my room first."

"Why, where are you?"

Damn. She was terrible at discretion. "Just running a few errands."

"With that hunky guy we saw you with at the hospital?" Alexis's voice sounded downright gleeful. "Shit, if you're with that hottie, don't worry about me and Kels. We'll work through it. I'll get her drunk or something."

"No, it's fine. I'll be there." Then some little devil inside her prompted her to say, "He's actually sleeping now, so it's good timing."

"Oooohhhh. That sounds promising."

Gwenna could feel her cheeks going hot, and not just from embarrassment. She was actually feeling a bit boastful. Yes, she had a naked man sleeping a few feet away from her. And since she didn't intend to inform the world at large, the least she could do was brag on it to her sister-in-law. Because there really was something fun and exciting and delicious about what she had done. "He's mortal. He'll be out for hours."

She didn't mean that quite the way it sounded—like she'd thoroughly wore him out—but Alexis just laughed.

"You go, girl."

"I'll see you in a few minutes." Gwenna quickly hung up, not wanting to give Alexis time to dig further into her relationship with Nate. Because she had no idea where they went from here, if at all, and she didn't want to speculate out loud about it. That would ruin the pleasant satisfaction she felt.

Going back into the room, she finished getting dressed. Nate was still out cold. She figured she had hours before he even roused. He'd had a very rough couple of days, and he probably hadn't slept well. Given what he was still facing with making arrangements for his sister's funeral, it was a good thing for him to be sleeping so deeply. She'd chat with Kelsey and be back in an hour, and he'd never know she'd been gone. It wasn't like she could sleep anyway. After nine hundred years of night walking, nothing could force her to sleep at only three in the morning.

It seemed like she should leave him a note or something and let him know what she was about, but at the same time that struck her as odd. She could call him and leave a message on his cell, but she didn't have the number and she couldn't very well dig through his pants looking for it. Besides, she'd be back in a flash.

 

 

Nate woke up to the sound of screaming. Intense, feral, female screaming. It yanked him straight out of a deep sleep, almost sending him rolling off the bed onto the floor. Heart pounding, head thick and disoriented, he sat up and tried to figure out where the hell the noise was coming from.

A woman he'd never seen before in his life was standing in the doorway staring at him in utter horror, hysterical shrieking coming from her mouth. Then as equally baffling as the screaming, she suddenly turned and ran, taking that hideous sound with her. Thank God.

Nate swallowed hard, and tried to settle his heart rate back to normal. She'd taken five years off his life, easily, and no one had the right to produce volume like that before he'd had his coffee. Rubbing his eyes, he wondered where the hell Gwenna had gone. She must have slipped out to use the restroom or something, and lucky her, had missed getting caught in the buff by a spa employee.

Glancing down, he saw the blanket was history. At some point, probably because of Gwenna's body tucked up next to his and the heated bed, he had completely kicked the blanket off. It was on the floor. And he was totally naked.

The woman reappeared in the doorway, with a coworker. The first woman was young and thin, the second was older, and heavily padded. Interestingly enough, it was the younger woman who looked horrified, like she was certain he was a gigantic pervert who had slunk into the massage room to flash her. The older woman looked more curious than anything else, her eyes sweeping over him nice and slow-like.

She said, "You're either really early for your appointment or really late."

"I don't have an appointment."

"We don't do walk-ins." Disapproval crossed her face. "And how did you get in here in the first place?"

"Just call security!" the younger one said, her ponytail bouncing as she backed up, clearly ready to run again.

"No, don't do that." Nate held his hand out reassuringly. "Look, I'm a friend of Gwenna Carrick's. I'm actually a detective with the Las Vegas Police, and Gwenna let me spend the night here." That was the truth, in essence. But he knew she wouldn't want everyone to figure out they'd actually spent the night together.

"Gwenna Carrick?" They glanced at each other, obviously unsure.

"Do you know Gwenna?" Nate tried to discreetly shift the pillow in front of him. He was comfortable naked, but this conversation was getting kind of extensive.

"Sure, she comes in here once a week for a massage, our last appointment of the day."

"Well, she's a friend and she let me crash here. But if you ladies would give me a minute, I'll, uh, get dressed and be out of your way."

"Oh!" The young one blushed.

The older one took another lingering look, not even trying to hide the fact. Nate plopped the pillow firmly on his unit. Geez, he wasn't some stud horse. She didn't need to check him out so intently.

"Did you see Gwenna on your way in here by chance?" he asked, when it became obvious they weren't leaving.

"Nope."

Ponytail shook her head as well.

Nate started to wonder where exactly Gwenna had run off to. And why she'd left him alone, naked, in the massage room. The warmth, the intimacy, of the night before felt suddenly and inexplicably gone without Gwenna in his arms.

And on the heels of that loss, he felt the weight of responsibility crashing in on him, heavy, brutal, and raw. Today he had to make arrangements for Kyra's funeral. Today he couldn't avoid the truth—his sister was dead and it sucked.

There was also a killer to catch.

And a blond Brit beauty to track down.

Tired of waiting for the women to leave, and resigned to a day almost as hellish as the one before, Nate climbed off the table and went for his clothes. He wasn't looking forward to what he had to do.

Yet it was satisfying to hear the younger woman scream again when he stood back up, jeans in hand, and gave her a full frontal.

 

 

Gwenna made inane sounds of comfort, patting Kelsey's head, and looked to Alexis for assistance. She wasn't exactly sure what to do with the woman sprawled across her, head in her lap like Kelsey was a three-year-old and Gwenna her mother.

Alexis just shrugged and held her hands out. No help there. No wonder Alexis had called her—Gwenna couldn't see Alex tolerating Kelsey's clinging for more than thirty seconds.

"Kelsey, dear, you have to realize that Ringo just isn't himself right now." Feeling terrible for the pain Kelsey was suffering, Gwenna stroked her long dark hair and tried to use logic. "You're not dealing with Ringo, your husband, but Ringo, the drug addict. When someone is caught in the grip of a drug like that, it becomes their entire priority. They're no longer the person you knew, and you can't take his behavior as an insult."

Kelsey lifted her head off Gwenna's lap and sniffled, her face a swollen, splotchy, mascara-streaked mess. "He told two guys I would give them a blow job if they ignored the fact that he stole drugs from them!"

Okay, so that was rather appalling. "But if he was in his right mind, he wouldn't have done that."

"I know. I like him so much better when he's being Kyle." On her side now, Kelsey wiped her cheeks on the thighs of Gwenna's jeans.

A little unnerved by the invasion of her personal space, Gwenna tried not to squirm. And she always thought it was weird as hell that Kelsey called Ringo by the name Kyle. She didn't understand how that was a nickname, but then again, Kelsey wasn't always easily understandable.

"So you have a decision to make… you either have to be patient and hope Ringo will get off the heroin, or you can cut ties once and for all and get on with your life."

"Those choices suck." Kelsey's lip trembled aggressively. It astonished Gwenna that Kelsey had been crying for literally hours on end, but her lipstick had neither smeared nor faded. She'd have to ask for the brand when Kelsey had calmed down a bit.

"Yes, they do."

"There really is no choice," Alexis said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "You can't go back to that loser."

Really, Alex needed a class. Sympathy 101.

Kelsey's eyes shimmered with blood tears. Gwenna had been intrigued by that fact for the last hour as she'd watched Kelsey cry. She'd met only a few vampires over the years who cried blood tears like she herself did, and it was interesting that Kelsey was one of them.

"Boys are stupid," Kelsey said with vehemence.

That was no news bulletin. "You won't get an argument from me. I was married to Roberto Donatelli, remember? I'm not exactly a poster vampire for Good Choices."

Kelsey sat up, much to Gwenna's relief. Her legs were going numb.

Wiping her nose with her wrist, Kelsey said, "It's Donatelli's fault that Ringo is an addict."

That irritated Gwenna slightly. "So maybe Roberto makes drugs accessible to men like Ringo, but that doesn't make him responsible. Ringo is an adult and he made the choice to start using."

"No, he didn't. Donatelli slipped the heroin in Ringo's blood and got him addicted before he even knew what was happening, when he was still just a fledgling."

"Somehow I highly doubt that." What purpose would that serve? And Gwenna knew Roberto had his flaws, but willful drug addict creator didn't fit his personality. Too messy. Too malicious.

Her voice had got sharper than she intended. But sometimes she was tired of everyone implying Roberto was pure, unadulterated evil. There were lots of positive points to Roberto's personality. He was generous and loyal and charming. She never would have married him in the first place if he were Satan in Italian shoes.

"It's true!" Kelsey insisted.

Alexis jumped in. "Hey, now, no cat fights over worthless men in my house. We can all agree that every man is responsible for his own behavior, and that neither guy is exactly a saint, or guilt-free here. What's more practical and more important is what Kelsey is going to do now. You need a place to stay. And a job."

Gwenna flushed a little. Alexis was right. They needed to focus on practicalities. And why was she defending Roberto anyway? God knew he'd probably throw her to the wolves. But even as she thought it, she knew it wasn't true. Roberto would try to control her, dominate her, subjugate her, but he would never allow anyone to actually physically harm her.

Damn, it was complicated when you shared the kind of history they did. Though not even Roberto knew Gwenna's deepest secret, and that worried her lately. Half a dozen people now knew about Isabel, her daughter. But Roberto didn't. And she suspected for the first time in their long lives, he would want to kill her when he found out she'd had his child and had never told him, not even during the three hundred years of their marriage.

"I'm sure Ethan will let Kelsey stay in the hotel."

But Alexis shook her head. "I don't know about that. It's a security issue, and you know how Ethan is about security lately. Kelsey didn't exactly endear herself to Ethan when she helped Ringo escape from his house arrest."

Kelsey didn't say anything, just bit her pouty lip as she sat on the couch next to Gwenna.

"And Ringo did try to kill Ethan, after all." Alexis looked rather put out by that fact.

"On Donatelli's orders," Kelsey said.

They were getting nowhere. "Okay, we've disintegrated into defending our respective men again. And frankly, I'm not sure any of them deserve our loyalty."

Both Alexis and Kelsey's mouths shot open.

Gwenna held up her hand. "It doesn't matter! The question is, are you leaving Ringo for good or just taking a little marital break?"

"I don't know." Kelsey rubbed her hands on the knees of her tight jeans. "I really, really love him. I want him back to him. I want him better."

"Babe, you can want it all you want for him, but Ringo has to decide he's ready to be clean, and stay clean. You can't make it all okay for him," Alexis said in a soft voice.

Gwenna heard the genuine sympathy from her sister-in-law, and she knew she was right. Kelsey couldn't fix her husband. Any more than Gwenna could alter the inherent flaws in Roberto. You could care about someone until you were blue in the face, but that didn't solve real, concrete problems.

"But it's because of Kyle," Kelsey said.

The tone of Kelsey's voice had Gwenna swinging her head around to stare at her. Kelsey sounded odd, eerie, unnaturally high, and suddenly very calm.

"Who the hell is Kyle?" Gwenna asked.

She glanced over at her sister-in-law, who was shaking her head. But she wasn't sure if Alexis didn't know the answer, or if she was indicating that Gwenna shouldn't go there with Kelsey.

Kelsey suddenly stood up and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "I shouldn't have come here. I don't want you to get into trouble with Mr. Carrick. He hates me now."

"Where are you going to go? Don't worry about Ethan." Alexis ran her hand through her short blond hair. "We'll work something out. Why don't you go check into another hotel? Get a good day's sleep and we'll see about finding you a job tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night I'm going to The Impalers concert," Kelsey said, adjusting her bra and V-neck T-shirt so her nonexistent cleavage was visible.

Gwenna was struggling to follow the thread of Kelsey's thoughts. Obviously so was Alexis because she flexed her fists and took a deep breath.

"Okay… so after the concert we can discuss finding you a place to stay permanently, and a job. And by the way, who the hell are The Impalers?"

"They used to be The Suckers. They play classic rock. All vampires. I know the bass player. We used to party in New York in the sixties when my name was Summer."

Honestly, Gwenna just had to give up. She had no idea whatsoever what Kelsey was talking about.

"Who are you going with?"

"No one."

"You're going alone?"

Obviously attending a rock concert solo sounded as batty to Alexis as it did to Gwenna, but then she'd been a virtual recluse for three hundred years. She'd never set foot in a bar or concert, and the thought of doing it alone was literally incomprehensible.

"Sure."

"I know I'm going to regret this," Alexis said, "but maybe I should go with you. We haven't had a girls night out in a while."

"Cool." Kelsey smiled at Alexis. "Wear something sexy. There will probably be cute guys there. And the boys in the band are all single."

Gwenna wished she could flip a switch and turn off her angst as easily as Kelsey did. She could have spared herself a few centuries of worry.

"Want to come with us, Gwenna?" Kelsey asked. "I could do your hair."

As tempting as that offer was, she had to pass. "I think I'll skip this time… I might have plans for tomorrow night."

Maybe it was presumptuous, but she was rather hoping Nate would be interested in another go at it. Especially as he was sure to have another painful day ahead of him.

Alexis grinned. "Gwenna has a mortal boyfriend."

Damn it, she was blushing. "He's not a boyfriend. He's just a friend." Who she happened to have shagged. She thought they called that friends with benefits, which absolutely worked for her. "And if my plans don't work out, I'll ring you. Maybe I will go to the concert."

Anything to avoid questions about Nate. Speaking of which, she needed to scoot back to the spa before the day staff strolled in and found him.

Before he thought she'd ditched out on him.

Of course, maybe he wouldn't want to see her. Maybe he regretted what had happened.

Maybe he was too busy to worry about where she was.

Maybe he would never think twice about her again.

And maybe she was a highly neurotic vampire who needed to get of the house more often.

Why did it feel like once a penis was thrown into the mix, she was utterly incapable of handling herself? Roberto had made her ridiculous, left her feeling completely out of control. And she was determined no man would ever have control of her again.

If Nate wanted to see her, he knew where to find her. He was probably too busy with his sister's funeral arrangements to give her a second thought anyway. She didn't want to intrude on his grief, or put herself where she wasn't wanted. And she had got neurotic again. Damn it.

No dangling after men, no wallowing, no worrying. She was independent now.

"Actually, I'll go with you. It should be fun." Fun wasn't the point, though. The principle was.

Kelsey let out a whoop. "Cool! And you have to wear something blue. You look hot in blue."

That was all that mattered then.

---

Chapter Seven

 

Normally, Nate knew how to take a hint.

But he wasn't feeling particularly normal.

He stood in the lobby at the Ava, feeling exhausted, gritty, stubborn. The lingering taste of bad coffee was in his mouth, and his shoulder muscles were screaming from being taut with stress all day.

So Gwenna Carrick had slipped out on him. He should leave it at that. Let it go.

But he didn't want to. He wasn't in the mood to put up with a disappearing act. If she didn't want to see him again, fine, whatever, but she should have said it to his face. There should have been a good-bye. What was so fucking hard about that?

And he had some questions for her regarding the dead guy in the train station. Some interesting little facts had popped up during the course of the day and he was curious as to what her reaction would be to the news.

Nate went up to the front desk. "I need to speak to Gwenna Carrick. What room is she in?"

"I'm sorry." The desk clerk gave him a generic smile, her blond hair sliding over her boxy uniform jacket. "I can't give out that kind of information."

Extracting his badge from his pocket and holding it up in front of her, Nate said, "I'm Detective Thomas with the Las Vegas Metro Police. I need to speak to Ms. Carrick about an ongoing murder investigation."

The girl blanched. "Oh, um. Hold on. Let me get my supervisor." She turned and ran off.

Nate was tempted to just reach over the counter and type Gwenna's name into the computer, but he restrained himself. Five minutes later he had the information he needed and he was in the elevator heading to the twenty-first floor.

He had questions and he was going to get answers.

 

 

Gwenna scanned through her e-mail, checking both her private account and the slayers' loop for signs of Slash.

There were posts from him the night before, but that was unreliable as far as she was concerned. Sometimes e-mails hit the loop immediately, sometimes there were random and unpredictable delays. It didn't prove that Slash wasn't the guy now lying in the morgue.

The possibility of his death made her shiver. Not that she had any reason to feel guilty. He had suggested the meeting location, and in his many posts, Slash hadn't come off as a particularly nice guy, but still. It wasn't like being a bit of a shit in e-mail justified popping someone off.

But she actually discovered a personal e-mail from Slash to her that appeared to have been sent that morning, given the time listed in the header. That was promising and she went to click on it when the doorbell rang.

"Damn." She really wanted to see what Slash had to say. Scanning it quickly as she stood up, she read a quick apology from him for missing their scheduled meeting. He'd had to work, he said, and couldn't get away in time.

The doorbell rang again and Gwenna jogged over, vampire speed, her mind processing Slash's e-mail. If he was at work the night before, surely he couldn't have been killed and stuffed behind a ticket dispenser then. That meant it was all a coincidence. The murder victim had nothing to do with Slash or the slayers' loop. And she'd just been stood up.

It was a total relief.

She opened the door without checking the peephole, expecting to see Alexis or Kelsey, early for their concert outing. Kelsey had threatened to bring a big giant bag of makeup to play with on Gwenna. Already intent on protesting, she yanked the door open and opened her mouth, an adage about "less is more" on her lips.

The words died when she realized it was Nate at her door. Looking tired, angry, and impatient, if his raised hand was any indication. He was going for a third knock with a taut fist.

"Hi!" she said inanely, wishing like hell she wasn't wearing yoga pants. But she'd just thrown them on after a shower, knowing Kelsey would insist on going through her closet and picking out an outfit anyway. Kelsey was just that type, and Gwenna was actually lousy at dressing herself, so she was willing to give it a go. As long as it didn't involve anything see-through or so short that sitting wasn't an option.

But now she was in stretchy, second-skin gray pants that screamed Friday Night Without a Date, and Nate was staring at her without saying a word. Feeling that annoying and telltale burn creeping up her cheeks, Gwenna forced a bright smile. "What brings you by?"

"Can I come in?" he asked, gesturing to her suite. Not smiling.

"Oh! Of course." She had spent too much time in York. She's forgotten how to deal with other human beings on a day-to-day basis. The bulk of her contact with people was online, which wasn't exactly social skill building. "I'm sorry… come in. Please."

He followed her into her apartment and she gave a quick glance around, making sure nothing inappropriate was lying around like a basket of dirty knickers or bags of blood. Of course, he'd seen her knickers when he'd ripped them off the night before, so it was not like a little personal laundry would distress him, but still. And bags of blood would just be bad. Bad blood. Bad, bad, bad. She'd have to mess with his memory, do a little erasing, if he saw anything vampiric, and that just felt wrong. Violating, really, after what they had shared.

"Have a seat," she said, gesturing to her sofa. Ethan's design staff had done a respectable job of ensuring the suites were more apartment than hotel room, and they were done in rich textures and quality furnishings. It was tasteful, yet Gwenna realized she'd never quite bothered to make it her own. It was still just a hotel suite in her brother's casino. Not home. No more than Roberto's Italian villa had been her home. She'd always known his staff had little respect for her, and Roberto himself had never given her any authority over decorating or their living arrangements.

Making a home of her own was yet again another thing she had never got around to. Or maybe she just hadn't known how.

"Thanks." Nate sat down and gave a sigh, like his body and bones were weary.

He still hadn't given a reason for his appearance, nor did he look like he was in a loving, touching, squeezing mood. Gwenna was absolutely unsure how to proceed. She had no previous one-night stand experience and hadn't been given any illicit sex etiquette tips at the girls' school she had attended in her youth.

Of course, here she was stupidly worried about how to handle a postorgasm encounter, and he had probably spent the day contacting family and the funeral home. She was an insensitive cad, thinking of sex when he was grieving.

"Are you doing okay? Did you have a chance to speak to your parents today?" she asked, taking the chair across from him. She wanted to touch him, to just reassure him, offer a bit of comfort, but he looked very hard, very closed off.

"Yes. They got stuck in L.A., but they should be here by morning." His fingers drummed across his knees, over and over, and he was sitting forward, stiff. "I wanted to let you know that the victim wasn't your pal Slash."

Gwenna was surprised at how relieved she truly was. And yet how sorry that someone else's life had ended in such a vulgar fashion. "Oh, good. Thanks for telling me. I thought it couldn't be him, because I got an e-mail from him saying he had to miss our meeting because he was working late, but it's good to hear it officially, because you know how e-mail can be… it's totally unreliable in terms of time, etc."

Nate just shook his head. "It wasn't him."

"I'm so sorry for whoever it was. Were you able to identify him?"

"Yes. His name is Andrew Fletcher. Twenty-one years old. Does that ring any bells for you?"

"No. Should it?" Why was Nate looking at her like that?

"Andrew Fletcher spent a lot of time online, including a vampire slayers' loop that also has a member named Slash87. You can confirm this for us, but I'm going on the assumption this is the same loop you're on and we've been discussing. Andrew's online name was Buzzdrew."

"Bloody hell." Gwenna recognized the name immediately. Buzz was constantly posting to the loop. He had a sharp sense of humor and an impressive vocabulary. And he made her extremely happy by always using capitalization and punctuation. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, I'm afraid I'm very serious. So how much of a coincidence do you think it is, Gwenna, that one loop member suggests you meet at the very location where another one has just been brutally murdered? Drained of all his blood, in fact. Like a vampire."

Gwenna had suspected that had been the case. She had seen the victim's pallor, and normally she could smell blood, all the time. While she had heightened smell and could decipher shampoo, skin lotions, toothpaste, and various other scents on mortals, blood was always the easiest to pick out. It hovered around mortals, their blood scent like an aura. It had been absent in Andrew's body. But she hadn't really put it together, had been so shocked, and very aware of a strong fleshy odor. She'd just attributed the lack of blood scent to his death. Now she was appalled to realize that Nate was right. This couldn't be a coincidence. It was too odd. Too planned. Yet it made no sense against the backdrop of knowledge she had—that the slayers were planning a large-scale attack on vampires in Vegas. So how would murdering one of their own fit into that?

"That's awful. Absolutely horrible."

"Yes, it is. And there are over four hundred members on that slayers' loop. We have to go through every single one, matching online name to real name, and we don't have the staff or the computer expertise to do this kind of crap. But you can save us a few minutes by telling me which cutsie little fake name is yours."

It was a bit mortifying, but Gwenna cleared her throat and went out with it. "QueenieG." No more apologizing to men.

That actually brought the closest thing to a smile on Nate's face since he'd walked in the door. "QueenieG? Okay, then, thanks."

Gwenna realized she could help him save a bundle of time and labor. "I know who about half the loop members are, and I can give that to you for the investigation. I've been playing around a little and seeing who is who. The ones who registered with real names are in a spreadsheet I created, and the ones who used fake names or registered anonymously are in a separate spreadsheet. In my spare time I've been picking through those, searching for their real identities. I've found about a fourth of those."

She was trying to be helpful, but he gave her an odd look. "Why were you collecting that kind of information?"

The truth was incomprehensible, so she just shrugged. "I was curious. I get bored easily and I like to do online searches. It's like a puzzle to find someone's real identity."

"But you don't know Slash's real name?"

"No, I haven't found his yet." Much to her annoyance.

Nate just looked at her, clearly thinking. He had this way of staring right into her, immovable, just like he had in the elevator. Like he had during sex. He could simply look at her, and it was like he was seeing everything—the real her, the inner thoughts, the secrets, the true Gwenna no one else understood.

"What do you do for a living?"

She'd given a vague response the first time he'd asked her that and he hadn't pursued it, which was amazing given how much they'd talked the night before. At least initially. Then they'd been too busy moaning to form words. But he was waiting for her answer now to his utterly loaded question, though Nate couldn't know that.

"I don't do anything."

"You don't work?" Nate didn't move or change postures, but she could sense his discontent with her answer. He had excellent control over his expressions, and he could sit as still as the dead, but she was starting to clue in to the way his thumb went up and down, up and down when he was studying her.

"No, I don't work." That wasn't a lie, though not the whole truth either. "I never did." She took a deep breath and forced the rest out. "And after my daughter died and my marriage ended, I had something of a breakdown. So I've just been sponging off my brother."

For the first time since he'd arrived, she saw a crack in his control. His fingers stopped moving, his eyes looked troubled. "Gwenna. I'm sure your brother doesn't see it that way. I'm sure he wants to help you."

"He does." She couldn't argue that Ethan had been good to her, despite his annoying tendencies, because he had. She had never lacked for money, housing, material luxuries. He gave her whatever she wanted and way more than she'd ever ask for. But lately it had begun to rub that Ethan controlled her finances. He was so generous—more than he should be really—but it meant that yet again Gwenna wasn't independent. "But I keep thinking that I really need to learn how to take care of myself. One sort of needs a job skill to do that, though."

"You didn't work before you got married?"

"No." That was simpler than explaining she had been the pampered daughter of a Norman lord, and she'd spent her days sewing and practicing the harp in the eleventh century. "I was a bit sheltered coming up."

"Well, what would you like to do? If you could do anything." Nate sank back into the sofa and waved his hand at her, like a career might pop up out of thin air.

His was a question no one had ever asked her before. Gwenna wrinkled her nose. "I don't know." She closed her mouth. Opened it. Closed it. "Well. I… don't know."

Nate raised an eyebrow. "Well, maybe you should think about it."

Maybe. But it sounded rather overwhelming. She had never considered that she could have a career. That she could be a modern woman like Alexis and Brittany. The thought was a little dizzying.

"I'm not sure I'm really good at anything." Gwenna bit her fingernail, than stared at her hand in confusion. She hadn't done that in centuries. Since those early days of her marriage to Roberto when he used to disappear for weeks at a time and she had worried incessantly. "Not really."

"What do you do every day?"

"I sleep a lot," she said, because that was true. "I tend to stay up really late at night. Last night was normal for me."

He shot her a look of irritation, not even remarking on her unintended sexual innuendo. "So what do you do at night then?"

Besides shag strange men in empty spas on massage tables. The unspoken words just hung there in the air between them, and Gwenna wanted to crawl under the table and die. Except going under the table would have her at crotch level with Nate, and she couldn't die anyway. It was hell to be wading through this with no clue how to have a normal relationship with a man.

Though obviously any sort of so-called relationship she had or might have with Nate had not exactly got off on a normal foot either. She'd had sex with him after discovering a murder victim, which possibly proved her brother's accusation to be true—she was not to be trusted when it came to men.

He was waiting for her answer. "I read. I do things… on the computer. I play the piano." Infiltrate vampire slayer loops and drink copious amounts of blood.

"What things on the computer?"

She should have known that he would call her on that one. He was still in detective mode. "I just like to explore, to read things, to do research. I'm a repeat poster on Wikipedia. Especially the section on Norman history. I do a lot of genealogy."

"And hang out in online vampire slayer groups."

"Just the one." So there.

Nate let that go. His fingers started drumming again. "So you're smart. Well read. You have extensive computer research skills. And you play the piano. It sounds like you could do a lot of things."

Gwenna shrugged noncommittally, not really wanting to discuss this with him. It made her feel inadequate. Lazy. Self-indulgent. "No one is going to pay me to play the piano."

"Why not? This is Vegas. There's a piano in every other lobby."

"But I'm not that good."

"Then why did you mention it?"

"Because you asked what I do."

"So clearly you enjoy it. No one is expecting a genius at these joints, you just have to be able to play without hitting a bad-note."

"I don't hit bad notes." She'd had nine centuries to practice the blasted thing, she'd better not hit bad notes. But that didn't mean she was capable of entertaining anyone with her playing.

"Then what's the problem? If performing in front of people makes you uncomfortable, you could record music."

She made a face without really meaning to.

He raised an eyebrow. "Okay, that's out. How about a librarian?"

Did she look like a librarian? That was startling. Though probably true. "They have degrees."

Now Nate seemed determined to forge her a career path. Like if he could just hit on the right idea, she'd get a job and get her act together. Hell, maybe there was something to that.

"So then something with your computer skills… you could start one of those services where you find people online for clients. That's huge right now and it sounds like you know exactly how to do that."

Now that idea actually intrigued her. Gwenna sat back in her chair and crossed her ankles.

"What, no excuse for this one?" He gave her a wry look.

Since she had been making excuses, she just gave him a smile back. "Now that could be interesting. I have a lot to learn, but I do enjoy the challenge of ferreting out info online."

"Maybe you can practice by helping the department match the rest of those e-mail addresses to real names."

Gwenna nodded. She'd been thinking the same thing herself. "Sure, of course I can do that. Whatever you need to help figure out what the hell is going on and who's responsible for Andrew's death. I can e-mail you the list I already have so you can get started."

First on her list was going to be Slash and FoxyKyle. They dominated the loop. And they had both taken measures to secure their identity. Gwenna wanted to know why.

"You got any paper? I'll give you my e-mail address."

Gwenna retrieved a pad of paper from the kitchenette area and watched Nate scrawl something on it with the pen she'd handed him. He was left-handed, and his elbow tilted out at a funny angle when he wrote. But his strokes were confident, sharp. Just watching him reminded her of the night before, of his hands moving over her with that same matter-of-fact approach. He took, but he didn't own, didn't try to possess or dominate. He was just positive his touch would be well received and he was right. She had welcomed every lick, every suck, every touch.

And now they weren't going to speak about it, and she was going to let him walk out the door and deny herself the chance to explore his body further all because she was a lifelong introvert.

It was beyond stupid.

He stood up. Sexy as hell, with caramel-colored hair; broad shoulders; face, demeanor, and expression as rugged and impenetrable as the north moors; a man's man, with a penis large enough that he was entitled to brag about it.

If she wanted a crack at same said penis yet again, she was going to have to be bold. She fought for the nerve, for a little backbone. To be QueenieG, in real life, as well as online.

"I'll be in touch." He passed the paper to her with zero hand-to-hand contact and headed for the door.

Gwenna stared at his back. He really and truly was going to walk out and never even discuss the fact that his cock had been in her mouth not eighteen hours earlier. And she'd done a pretty fine job of working him over, if she did say so herself, and he wasn't even going to acknowledge any of that? It irritated her enough that she steeled herself. Damn it, she did not like being ignored.

"Are you honestly just going to leave without even mentioning that we had hot sex last night?"

Nate came to an abrupt stop. Gwenna's heart was pounding as he turned around, but it was more from anger than nerves. If he just did that thing where he stared at her and didn't speak, she was going to throw something at him. Like her sofa.

But his eyes narrowed and he said in a very low, tight voice, "You're the one who left without a word. I figured that meant you didn't want to discuss the fact that we had hot sex. On a massage table. Where you came three times."

Oh, my. Gwenna felt heat flare up spontaneously between her thighs. Had it only been three times? She'd been fairly certain she'd spent the whole time in a sort of continuous orgasm.

If the fact that she had left was the only thing bothering him, then she could resolve that straight away. "Sorry about that. I got a call from my sister-in-law that a friend has left her husband—a real rotten sort—and she was crying… it was a girl thing. I had to go over there and offer some comfort."

"You're just a comforting kind of gal, aren't you?"

"What the hell does that mean?" It almost sounded insulting.

"Nothing." Nate rubbed his head with his hand and made a sound of frustration. "You could have woken me up. I felt like a jackass waking up in that room by myself while the staff checked me out."

Yikes. The staff had found him? That must have been an eyeful. "I thought you could really use the sleep… I know you'd had a hard couple of days and it seemed important that you get some deep sleep."

He stared at her. She stared back.

Nate sighed. "Fuck."

That's what she had in mind, but she didn't think that's what Nate meant.

"Gwenna. I have had a hard couple of days and I don't have it in me to be playing guessing games. If you didn't mean to ditch out on me, what are we doing here? What do you want from this? Just last night?"

She shook her head. It felt like they'd just got started and she was attracted to him, physically and otherwise. "No. I would like to see you again. What do you want?"

What Nate wanted was a big old tropical island far away from death with Gwenna naked on it, but seeing as that wasn't a real likely possibility anytime soon, he gave her the simplified version of the truth. "I want you." Painfully. Immediately.

Her blue eyes widened, sparking with desire. "It's good to hear we're in agreement then."

Nate closed the distance between them. Gwenna was wearing the tightest stretchy pants he'd ever seen, and he loved the way they hugged her ass, and even better, the way they clung in front, outlining her sex for him. He cupped the back of her head and kissed her, hot and hard, forcing her lips open with his tongue, while his free hand stroked over the front of her pants, and his cock went hard on cue.

Her gasp against him satisfied him. Gwenna's knees bent, and she leaned forward, her soft fingers wrapping around his wrist like she meant to stop his touch. The hell with that. Nate pressed his thumb against her clit, nudging her legs apart. Then he stroked and petted her over the soft stretchy pants, loving the way the fabric cupped her mound, enjoying the sound of her breathing in his ear, her tiny little gasps and sighs. Gwenna was petite and proportionate, but while he'd originally thought she was fragile, lithe, skinny, he now knew her body was all woman, with curves and a healthy muscle tone. She was thin, but firm, curvy, but toned. Perfect. Absolutely fucking perfect.

Driving her wild without undressing her was really damn hot, and Nate saw no reason to stop. He kissed and licked her mouth, his fingers moving over and over her, brushing her nipples, smoothing over her tight ass, sliding up and down in the indentation in her pants he'd created by stroking her, pressing a little deeper and deeper as she moved restlessly, knees bending further.

"Take my pants off," she murmured, her cheeks bright pink spots of color, and her eyes half closed, glazed with desire.

Nate bit her bottom lip. "Shh. You're fine like this."

Her gasp of indignation turned him on. "Take my pants off," she demanded, clamping her hand around his wrist and holding him still with a strength that surprised him at the same time it made him hotter than hell. Damn, the lady wanted her pants off. She looked so sweet and innocent, like she'd faint at the site of a naked man, but looks were deceiving. Shit. Gwenna gave as good as she got.

"Yes, ma'am." He ripped her pants down to her knees and slid two fingers inside her wet, eager body.

"Oh, hell, Nate." She closed her eyes, and still gripping his wrist, she came, with graceful shudders, head falling back, back arching, hips thrusting to meet his touch.

It was beautiful. And suddenly, in the midst of the lust, the hot, wet desire to grab her hips and fuck the life out of her, Nate felt something else. Maybe a kind of gratitude to her for sharing herself with him at the right time, maybe an attraction for her as a woman, a human being, or maybe a kind of interest stirring to life that went beyond sex, and the instinctive urge to protect her, in all her intriguing mix of strong yet incredibly vulnerable. Whatever the hell it was, it was there, and Nate was caught off guard. It wasn't a bad feeling, but it was unnerving, and he needed to regroup, get a grip on his life before he dove in and did something stupid as hell.

So after she came back to earth and smiled at him, making little sighs of delight, Nate gave her a soft kiss, and pulled her pants back up.

That earned him a frown. "What are you doing?"

"I need to go back to work."

"You can't take five more minutes?" Her outrage nearly made him laugh.

"I don't want to settle for five minutes," he told her, which was true. It was also true he was feeling a little like he'd been nailed by a baseball in the gut, and he needed to figure out what the hell that meant. Or more importantly, what to do about it. "What are you doing tomorrow night? Can I see you?"

Tomorrow was Kyra's wake, which meant he should probably spare Gwenna the lousy company afterward. But then again he'd have to see his parents, which was always a total nightmare, and Gwenna Carrick was a wonderful distraction. She had a quiet comfort about her that appealed to him.

"Oh, shit, I can't tomorrow." She entwined her fingers with his. "My brother has this big corporate party thing and I promised I would go. I'm appalling at these functions—I can't think of a damn thing to say and I hide by the potted plants, but I told Ethan I'd be there. How about Sunday night?"

"Sure. I'll call you." He took another kiss, enjoying the way she responded so quickly to him, and the sensual feel of her mouth beneath his. "Can you send that slayers' loop info before you go to bed tonight?"

The doorbell rang behind him. "Expecting company?" If she had a date, he was pretty sure he was going to be ugly jealous. On the other hand, if it was her loser ex-husband, Nate was going to enjoy threatening him with a little force.

"I'm going out with my girlfriends." She moved around him, adjusting the waistband of her pants—which he had messed up—and opened the door.

Nate saw an amazingly thin woman with long dark hair dressed in the tiniest red outfit he'd ever seen in his life. It was like a headband masquerading as a dress. Next to her was a blonde who was a solid ten inches shorter, wearing jeans, high heels, and a sparkly blue shirt. Gwenna looked a little under-dressed for whatever night out they had planned.

"Who are you?" the brunette asked. She didn't sound accusatory, just sort of mildly curious.

"I'm Nate Thomas. Who are you?"

She walked into the apartment and blinked. "I'm Kelsey Columbia, but after my divorce, I'll have to decide if I want to go back to being Kelsey Dickens or not. I've never really liked that name. I was kind of thinking this is my chance to just pick whatever name I want. What do you think of Kelsey Kinko?"

Nate kept his voice even. "That works."

The blonde shook her head. "I told you that sounds like a stripper name."

His thoughts exactly.

While Kelsey pouted, the blonde stuck her hand out in his direction. "I'm Alexis Baldizzi-Carrick, Gwenna's sister-in-law."

He shook. Firm, confident grip. "Nice to meet you. I'm Nate Thomas, a detective with the Las Vegas Police."

At which point Gwenna grabbed his other hand and tugged on him. "Well, thanks for dropping by. I don't want to be late for the concert and I'm not even dressed, so sorry to rush you off, but we'll speak soon, and I'll see you on Sunday."

Gee, he could take a very subtle hint.

But while she could shove him out the door, he wasn't about to let her forget the unfinished business they had for Sunday.

Nate tugged Gwenna up against his chest. "Sounds good." Then he gave her a big-ass kiss, with tongue, sliding his hand all up and down her backside for good measure. "See ya, Gwenna."

Then he left, absolutely positive he had a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

---

Chapter Eight

 

Ethan Carrick hated Roberto Donatelli with every fucking bone in his body. Once they had been friends, back when London was nothing but a mudhole and the Americas didn't exist to Europeans. But then Donatelli had seduced Gwenna and left her to die giving birth to his bastard child, and Ethan would never forgive him for that. Donatelli was a cruel, heartless son of a bitch who enjoyed playing people for power, and would trample anyone who got in the way of his self-serving plans.

Not to mention that he was just annoying as hell. A metrosexual moron.

God, Ethan hated him.

They stared across the conference table at each other.

Donatelli leaned back into his leather chair. "I can practically hear your teeth grinding, Carrick. You need to at least pretend to like me at the Inaugural Ball tomorrow night."

"I'll tolerate you, nothing more. Everyone knows this is a political alliance, not a friendship."

A smirk on his smarmy face, Donatelli said, "You mean I'm not invited to your ranch for fishing, hunting, and relaxing man talk away from the office?"

"I don't own a ranch. And if I did, I'd burn it down before I let you set foot in it." Ethan was still appalled that Donatelli was vice president of the Vampire Nation, while he was president. But there had been no choice. Ethan had been on the verge of losing the election because of the growing unrest of Impure vampires, born mortal with vampire genes, and later turned to vampire. They felt that vampires like Donatelli, who encourage vampire population growth, spoke to their rights more than a conservative like Ethan did. Then when Gregor Chechikov had entered the race, Ethan had known they would have a disaster on their hands if Chechikov won. He was a Russian lunatic, plain and simple, with plans for cloning vampires. Ethan had seen an opportunity to ensure Chechikov didn't come into power by aligning himself with Donatelli. Together they became a moderate, all-inclusive ticket, and it had won them the election, averting what amounted to vampire civil war.

But the immediate result was also that Ethan had to work together with Donatelli in some functioning capacity for the next forty years, and he needed to learn to control his dislike of the bastard or they would never accomplish anything. And unless he got a handle on his anger, Ethan would spend the next four decades walking around pissed off, which was bad for his mental health.

"Let's just get to the point here. Tomorrow we walk in together, get sworn in, and have drinks. It should go smoothly enough. Are you bringing a date or something? Because you can't be strolling into this with some bimbo mortal or eighteen-year-old vampire chick. We all know the truth about you, but you have to least pretend to have some sort of class." Maybe he was just getting a dig in, but hell, he wouldn't put it past Donatelli to do something as stupid as bring his mortal blood slave to the Inaugural Ball.

Donatelli didn't rise to the bait. He shrugged. "I didn't think having your sister as an escort would be in the least bit offensive. Gwenna has always conducted herself with perfect decorum."

The Italian was just so good at infuriating him. "Gwenna isn't your date." He didn't think. She had made it sound like she wasn't against speaking to her ex-husband, but surely that didn't extend to putting on a party dress and walking with Donatelli into a room filled with a thousand vampires. Gwenna didn't like attention, and the kind of buzz their being together would create was enough of a deterrent for his sister, he was sure.

Besides, she had been with a mortal and Alexis was right. Dating two men was not Gwenna's style. Hell, as far as he knew, she hadn't dated any man but Donatelli.

"She's not my date yet. But she will be. I'll drop by her suite after we're done here."

The bastard's self-assurance irritated Ethan. What gave the jerk-off the right to even ask Gwenna to be his date? She'd divorced his sorry ass three hundred years earlier, which meant she wasn't obligated to be seen in public with him. "She won't say yes."

"Yes, she will. She and I have been on much friendlier terms lately. She'll do it as a favor to me, and as a favor to you. She'll understand how important it is for our government to show unity."

There was truth to that, and Ethan didn't like it. But he still said, "I wouldn't expect her to bleed for me like that, and she knows it."

"Being my date is bleeding?"

"Hell, yes. I imagine it would be more fun fucking a frog than dancing with you."

"How colorful. Hopefully you'll never have to do either, because I'm not too keen on the concept of waltzing with you either." Donatelli looked casually around. "Where's your secretary? I need a drink."

Ethan turned to his bodyguard, wanting this little meeting over. God, he was never going to survive forty years of this drivel. "Would you please find Brenda and see if she can find a drink for Mr. Donatelli? Thank you."

"Is Brenda your new secretary? I hope she's more efficient than that idiotic Kelsey you had previously. While Kelsey is attractive in a vapid, slutty sort of way, she's distressingly dumb. Though loyal. It's a beautiful thing to see her clinging to her junkie husband."

It was still a rather sore spot with him that Kelsey had essentially betrayed Ethan after he'd spent the last forty years providing her with gainful employment—despite her questionable secretarial skills. Hearing Donatelli rub it in wasn't conducive to a stress-free work environment. Nor had it made him the least bit happy to hear from his wife that she intended to spend the night hanging out at a rock concert with Kelsey. That screamed male strippers and possible jail time to him. Kelsey was a magnet for trouble.

"Kelsey left her husband, so just let her be, alright?" Though he had no intention of rehiring her. She had proven herself untrustworthy. "And by the way, you can't drop by to invite Gwenna to the ball, and have her laugh in your face and say no, because Alexis told me Gwenna has plans tonight."

Ethan paused to make sure he had Donatelli's full interest.

"Oh, really?" Donatelli didn't look like he believed him.

"Yes. She has a mortal boyfriend and they're out tonight." And Donatelli could put that in his fucking pipe and smoke it.

 

 

"You don't have any exciting clothes at all." Kelsey stood in front of Gwenna's closet, giving every appearance of being in mourning for slut outfits.

Gwenna hated to break it to her, but she wasn't an exciting woman. It was highly unlikely she would have a secret snappy or stylish dress hiding somewhere. "Sorry. I haven't needed a lot of going-out clothes living in an old castle by myself."

"But you're in Vegas now." Kelsey pointed out the obvious as she abandoned searching through Gwenna's many T-shirts, twin sets, and khaki slacks. "And I brought a few outfits in case we found ourselves in this very situation."

Alexis snorted, lying straight across Gwenna's bed on her side. "I can't wait to see this."

Gwenna wasn't nearly as enthusiastic. "Kelsey, what's wrong with me just wearing a pair of jeans? It's just a rock concert, right? Don't people wear jeans to concerts?" They always did in Disney movies. Gwenna liked the Disney channel because every problem was perfectly wrapped up in under two hours, all while the laugh track went off for every canned and trite joke. It made her happy. Being dressed in Kelsey's clothes did not make her happy, since Kelsey was five foot ten, weighed ninety pounds, and was notorious for exposing two thirds of her body at any given moment. She liked to tell herself it was because Kelsey had no reflection and couldn't see exactly what she looked like, but that was probably false hope.

"Sure, it's a rock concert, but you want to be pimped out a little. You don't want to look like you're headed to Wal-Mart. And these guys are vampires, remember, so they're going to notice us immediately."

She didn't know they were vampires because no one had bothered to explain that little factoid to her earlier. "No, I actually had no clue they were vampires. Are you telling me the entire band is undead? Is the whole audience full of vampires?"

"No." Kelsey looked at her like that was an idiotic suggestion. "Why would the audience be vampires? They're a vampire band pretending to be vampires so no one knows they're really vampires. But since we're vampires, we know they're vampires, of course."

Right. She should have guessed that. Gwenna sat down on her bed next to Alexis. "Maybe I should just stay home." She could call Nate and see if he was still available…

"No!" Kelsey shook her finger at her. "You're cheering me up, so you have to go."

Shit. When put like that, there was no way out of it. Gwenna was very good at feeling guilty. "Okay, fine."

"Thank you!" Kelsey beamed. "Now let me go get my bag. I left it in the other room. I have the cutest blue dress I brought for you to wear."

"Fine. But while you're getting that, I have an e-mail to send." She turned to her laptop, which she'd brought into the bedroom with her so she wouldn't forget to send the spreadsheet to Nate. Clicking on her mail, she was surprised to see another e-mail from Slash.

 

From: Slash87@gomail.com

To: QueenieG@aol.com

Subject: Tonight

Hey Queenie,

Everyone is going to The Impalers concert tonight. If you can get a ticket, meet me there. I'll find you in the crowd.

 

Now that was rather an odd coincidence. Yet another one. Slash and "everyone" were going to be at the concert that Kelsey had talked her into attending. And the band members were all vampires.

Plus if Slash was confident he could find her in the crowd, then he knew what she looked like. Which meant he had been at the train station and had seen her, because she'd only previously given him a very generic "short and blond" description of herself. He'd never be able to pick her out of a crowd based on that. She shivered. What if Slash was the killer of poor Buzzdrew? She couldn't even imagine what the motivation had been for that.

But Andrew had been mortal and vulnerable as such. Gwenna wasn't. And she was bound and determined to figure out what the hell was going on—especially if true slayers were planning an actual attack. Given the large number of vampires in Vegas for the Inauguration, it would be perfect timing for that sort of large-scale attack, and she had no intention of allowing such a thing to occur.

She clicked Reply.

 

I should be able to get a ticket. See you there. And don't stand me up this time.

Queenie

 

Might as well let him know she hadn't appreciated his not showing the night before. Then she pulled Nate's e-mail address out of her pocket and entered it in her address book. She clicked to send him an e-mail, attaching the slayers' loop spreadsheet. Then she typed quickly.

 

Hi Nate,

Here's the info attached as discussed. I also heard from Slash again… we are meeting at a concert tonight, The Impalers. They pretend to be vampires as part of their act. Will give you a description of Slash after I meet him. See you Sunday.

Best,

Gwenna

 

She was absolutely certain her e-mail sounded boring and ridiculous, but she wasn't sure what else to say. And it was Nate's work e-mail, so it wasn't like she could talk dirty to him even if she were so inclined to do so, which she wasn't. Well, she found the idea sort of intriguing actually, but wasn't exactly sure she'd know how to go about it.

"What are you doing?" Alexis asked.

Gwenna jumped, as if she had actually written a dirty e-mail to Nate and Alexis had seen it. Lord, she needed to get a grip on herself. "Just dashing off this thing to Nate." Alexis and Ethan still didn't know about the murder and she had no intention of telling them.

"You're really digging this guy, aren't you?" Alexis sounded downright gleeful about that.

Gwenna closed her e-mail and prepared to face her sister-in-law, and an endless round of teasing. Only to find herself being confronted by Kelsey with a fistful of blue fabric that wouldn't cover a Chihuahua, let alone a full-grown woman. "Whatever that is, I'm not wearing it."

Kelsey smiled. "Yes, you are. Please? It will make me feel so much better to see you looking hot."

Damn it. Gwenna sighed and took the dress—if that's what it was. It looked more like an odd pair of panties. "If it looks appalling, you have to be honest with me."

"Of course," Kelsey nodded.

"Scout's honor," Alexis said from the bed.

She didn't believe them, but she was also very impatient to get to the concert and find Slash, so she stomped off to the bathroom to try and interpret what constituted "hot" in Kelsey Columbia's world.

 

 

Donatelli hated Ethan Carrick. He'd spent a lifetime poisoning Gwenna against him, and Roberto had never been able to figure out why. He loved Gwenna, always had. He wanted nothing but happiness for her. So why in the world was Carrick always so determined to keep Gwenna from him?

He had wanted to smack the satisfaction off Carrick's face when he had mentioned that Gwenna had a mortal boyfriend, but he had restrained himself. There was a much more rational way to deal the situation.

"Williams." He snapped his fingers for his bodyguard, and tossed back a glass of blood. There was an excellent view of the Vegas Strip from his room at the Venetian, but he stared at it without appreciating it. The very idea of another man's hands on his wife had him in a foul mood, even though he knew it was a ridiculous attempt on Carrick's part to irritate him. Gwenna didn't date. She never had. In the three hundred years since their divorce, Donatelli couldn't even count the number of women he had bedded. But he was conversely positive that Gwenna had never let another man inside her body.

Because she still loved him and they belonged together.

"Follow Gwenna and tell me if you see her with a man. I want you to watch her and tell me everything she's doing for the next forty-eight hours."

Williams nodded and left.

Donatelli sighed. It was so highly inconvenient that Gwenna had developed such a stubborn streak. It was clearly a Carrick trait. One he despised.

And one he would break her of if it took all of eternity.

 

 

Nate allowed himself a two-hour nap before heading back to the station to see if the autopsy report on Andrew's body had arrived yet. It hadn't, but he did have the e-mail from Gwenna as promised providing him with half the list members' real names matched to their e-mail addresses.

"Hot damn." It was a lucky break, and a huge time saver. Now they could zip through the list and eliminate any names of those out of town with clear alibis. There was someone on the list who was the killer, Nate was convinced of it. He just needed to methodically determine who it couldn't be to figure out who it actually was.

His good humor disappeared when he actually read the body of Gwenna's e-mail. She was going to meet Slash. Who very possibly was a murderer. At a concert with fake vampires.

"Jesus Christ." The woman had absolutely no sense of self-preservation.

"What's up?" Jim Connors, the other detective on the case, glanced over at him from his paper-laden cubicle.

Nate explained the situation. "What makes sense to her about doing this? I swear, she'd walk in front of a fucking bus and never even notice it until it ran her over." It was that naivety, that innocence, about Gwenna that appealed to him, while at the same time it frustrated him to no end.

"Yet given the looks of this spreadsheet, she's not stupid." Jim gestured to his computer screen, looking at the data Nate had just forwarded to him.

"No. But this still means I'm going to have to show up at this damn concert and see what the hell's going on." His temples throbbed. "Fake vampires. What is the matter with people? Can't people try a little reality once in a while?"

"Reality's no fun, Nate, my man." Jim leaned back in his wheeled chair, making the seat squeak from his ample weight. "People need a little escape. It's good, clean fun. You want me to go check out the concert? I'm about to head out of here anyway."

The rational thing to do would be to take Jim up on his offer. But Nate wasn't feeling anything close to rational. He was running on little sleep, his emotions were threatening to suck him under, and he had an intense, burning need to keep Gwenna Carrick safe all by himself. It wasn't the department checking up on her, it was him, the man, Nate Thomas.

"Nah, that's okay. I can handle it."

He thought he sounded casual as hell, but Jim barked out a laugh. "So that's the way the wind blows, huh? She was a pretty little thing, I'll give you that. A little too delicate for my taste, though." Jim patted his substantial gut. "I'd crush her. I like a woman I can really grab on to."

Now there was an image he didn't need. "She'd never go for you anyway," Nate drawled as he turned his computer off.

"Hey, thanks." Jim threw a pen at him.

Nate caught it and tossed it onto his desk. "I'm just telling you like it is. She's hot for me, and you wouldn't stand a chance."

He was bragging to throw Jim off the truth, but then he remembered the way Gwenna had responded to his fingers moving inside her, and he knew the truth was that Gwenna was hot for him. And he was hot as hell for her. It wasn't logical, but it was there, and it was intense.

Which might explain why he was heading to a concert by a fake vampire band with every intention of hauling her delicate ass out of there and kissing some sense into her.

 

 

Gwenna turned to Alexis. "I feel slightly uncomfortable." Which was her very British way of describing the fact that she wanted to earth to open and swallow her and the very tiny dress she was wearing.

"Why?" Alexis scanned the dark room. "You look fantastic. Just relax."

Easy for Alexis to say since she was wearing jeans. Gwenna was wearing an exercise in insanity. With a plunging neckline. Which she kept trying to tug closed, only to have Kelsey smack at her and spread it even farther apart than it was originally.

So she hovered as close to Alexis as possible without stealing her oxygen and held a little clutch purse in front of her chest. This had been a really poor lapse in judgment. And given the vast crowd of concertgoers, there was no way she was going to find Slash. All she knew was that he was male and in his twenties. That took her potential pool down to a mere thousand guys, many of whom were strolling around pierced, tattooed, and wearing chains off their clothes or body parts. She saw lots of people opening their mouths and exposing fake fangs to each other as well, which she found incredibly disturbing.

Why did they want to be vampires? What exactly was the lure? Immortality, she supposed. Power. And of course, the irony was that Gwenna had never asked for her vampirism, had been given it by Ethan to prevent her from bleeding to death after Isabel's birth nine centuries earlier. There had been many times where Gwenna would have gladly given the gift of eternity back.

No longer, though. She had a purpose now, and it was to ferret out the slayers, and prevent an attack. And she needed to help Nate find Andrew's killer. His hobby, his playacting, like all these men around her pretending to be vampires, had gotten him killed, and somehow she felt inadvertently responsible for that.

"Hey." A guy with a shaved head and a black T-shirt that stated "Get Impaled, You Know You Want It," smiled at her.

Yikes. He was flirting with her. He was big and scary and she was so not ready for this. Gwenna felt the urge to grab on to Alexis and pretend they were a couple, but that would be an avoidance technique. And she was resolved to be stronger, more confident, to meet problems head on and deal with them entirely on her own.

"Hi," she said. Wow, that was really handling things.

Of course—duh—maybe this was Slash. Which meant she had to talk with him long enough to determine if that was a possibility.

The guy had to yell, since the opening band was on stage making what sounded to Gwenna like a godawful amount of noise. "You been to see The Impalers before?" he asked her, leaning down to speak directly to her ear.

His breath tickled her cheek. Shifting slightly away and looking up at him, she shook her head and forced a smile. "No, this is my first."

"A virgin." He grinned. "You'll like it, they put on a good show."

She just smiled, wracking her brain for something flirtatious to say, or at least something conversational. "I, uh…" Nothing. Zero. She couldn't even complete the sentence because her mind was utterly empty of words. And he was starting to lose his grin, like he thought she was a half-wit. Which maybe she was.

Kelsey saved her by moving in between the two of them and putting her forearm on Gwenna's shoulder, using her as a support. "So what's your name, cutie?" she said to the very tall and tattooed man who was the polar opposite of the descriptive cutie in Gwenna's book.

"Jason. What's your name?"

"Kelsey." She nudged Gwenna. "And this is—"

Gwenna cut her off, bursting out with, "I'm Queenie. It's nice to meet you."

Alexis gave a snort of amusement. Kelsey said, "Wow, cool, I like it," as if they didn't know each other. But Gwenna should be grateful Kelsey didn't just flat out give her away. And the guy was looking a bit skeptical.

"Queenie?" he said.

"Yes. My parents were British and Mum had royalty envy." It was much easier to roll with a lie when it was ludicrous. She briefly wondered why that was as Jason started to back up. "Is Jason really your name?"

"Uh, yeah. Well, um, enjoy the concert. See you." He disappeared into the crowd.

"Shit, I think you scared him, Gwenna. And he was cute, too." Kelsey frowned at his retreating back.

"I scared him? I don't think so. I'm not the least bit scary." She rather resented that. And if he couldn't take an unusual name, then he wasn't worth her time anyway. Not that she was at all interested in Giant Jason, but it was a bit insulting to think that little bitty her had been so weird or uninteresting that he had felt the need to dash off. Wimp.

But the important fact she had gained from that encounter was that she was now down to nine hundred and ninety-nine potential Slashes, because Jason hadn't reacted at all to her online name.

"What's with the Queenie thing? If you're going to use a fake name—which I totally support—couldn't you come up with a better one?" Alexis asked. "Like I think maybe I'll be Mackenzie for the night. I've always liked that name because it's a power name."

"Oooh, fake names. Okay, I'll be Winnie," Kelsey said.

Gwenna tried to imagine how Kelsey had plucked the name Winnie from the vast stores of knowledge in her sixty-year-old brain. It was more random than Queenie, which was really saying a lot. "Winnie. That's an unusual name. What made you think of it?"

"I've always liked the Pooh Bear stories." Kelsey's lip started to tremble. "Ringo used to read me the Winnie the Pooh books."

Now there was an intriguing glimpse into Kelsey's marital life. Her heroin-addicted assassin husband had read her the silly old bear stories? "That's so very sweet, Kelsey." And odd as hell, but who was she to judge?

"I need a drink," Alexis said. "So Mackenzie is going to the bar. Can I leave Winnie and Queenie together without the two of you getting into serious trouble?"

"Why would we get in trouble?" The very concept seemed to puzzle Kelsey. "We'll be totally fine."

"Okay, but stay together. Got it?" Alexis shook her finger at them.

Gwenna nodded. "We'll be fine." Her sister-in-law was spending too much time with Ethan. She was getting to be almost as overprotective as he was.

"Does anyone else want a drink?"

"No, thanks." Unlike other vamps, Gwenna had never developed a taste for any drink besides blood. But then she was supposed to be opening herself to new experiences, embracing life. "Actually, I'll have whatever you're having."

"I'll take a martini. Something flavored," Kelsey said.

"Okay, I'll be back."

Alexis headed to the bar, and Kelsey grabbed Gwenna's hand. "I'm so totally depressed. We have to hit on guys, that always makes me feel better."

And she dragged Gwenna to the nearest quartet of men, who looked up with obvious lustful interest, which was to be expected given they were being assaulted by two women not wearing enough clothing. Gwenna felt her cheeks burning, but reminded herself the room was dark, with red strobe lights, and no one would notice in the slightest her blush. Besides, she was supposed to be looking for Slash. It was part of her new plan to be proactive. Waiting around for him to approach her was so last century.

"So which one of you has the biggest penis?" Kelsey said to the men.

---