Dead Perfect

Page 35

She glanced at the couples on the dance floor. Most of them were dancing so close together it was hard to tell where one person ended and the other began. The music was dark and erotic, the low beat of the drum echoing in the room like the beating of a heart. “I don’t think so.”
“Come on,” he urged, taking her by the hand. “I promise not to let anyone take a bite out of you. Except me.”
“Very funny,” Shannah muttered as she followed him onto the dance floor.
She felt terribly self-conscious as Ronan turned and drew her into his arms. But she soon forgot they were surrounded by vampires, forgot everything but the thrill of being near him.
He held her close, his body brushing against hers, making every nerve ending tingle with awareness. The arm around her waist was strong and sure. His breath was warm on her cheek, his hand moved up and down her back in long, lazy strokes.
She rested her cheek against his shoulder and hoped the dance would never end. She had never thought of herself as much of a dancer but she had no trouble following Ronan’s lead. He moved with a slow sensuality and her body followed his lead as though they had danced together for years.
She looked up, her gaze meeting his. There was no mistaking the heat in his eyes. She didn’t have to read his mind to know what he was thinking, or feeling. His touch, his gaze, the very air that sizzled between them was so charged, she was surprised she didn’t melt right there on the dance floor.
He didn’t let her go when the song ended, only held her close until another one began. She was breathless by then, her heart pounding, every nerve and cell in her body aware of his hand holding hers, his arm around her waist. Tension hummed between them, vibrant and alive.
Dancing with Ronan was more than dancing, it was like making love to music.
They danced until the band took a break. As Ronan led her from the dance floor, Shannah had an almost overpowering urge to laugh. Who would have thought that vampires danced, or dealt blackjack in Vegas, or played musical instruments? Or wrote romance novels…
Or told bad jokes. She couldn’t help grinning as they passed a table where three men and two women were sitting.
“I heard this one from my sister’s little girl,” one of the men was saying. “Where do vampires keep their money?” He glanced around the table. “Give up? In a blood bank.”
Shannah frowned. His sister’s kid? She couldn’t help wondering if the sister knew that her brother was a vampire. At the same time, it suddenly made vampires seem more human, somehow. He had a sister and a niece, which meant he wasn’t a very old vampire, unless his sister and her family were vampires, too. Did his family know what he was? And if they didn’t know, how did he manage to keep it a secret?
“Are you ready to go?” Ronan asked.
“Yes,” she said, smothering a yawn. “I’m a little tired.”
Leaving the club, Ronan hailed a cab. Once inside, he drew Shannah into the circle of his arms and held her close. Brushing a kiss across the top of her head, he considered how much his lifestyle had changed since she had shown up on his front porch. His existence, which had been simple and blissfully free of complications for hundreds of years, had turned upside down, and all because of this one frail mortal female.
He knew she had been ill at ease in the club, but she hadn’t seemed repulsed, or worse, frightened. He didn’t want to force the Dark Trick on her, but he wasn’t sure he could accept her decision if she refused. Would she hate him if he brought her across against her will, or thank him once it was done? His one fear was that she would despise him for doing it, despise herself for what she had become, and destroy herself. That was the one thing he knew he could never live with.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jim Hewitt paced the floor of his hotel room. “Dammit, where the devil are they?”
With a shrug, Carl Overstreet sat back in the room’s only chair. “Beats the heck out of me.
Maybe he left town and took her with him. Maybe he killed her.”
Hewitt swore. They had staked out the vampire’s lair day and night. For the last week, there had been no visible sign of activity in the house. Alarmed, Hewitt had gone to the house and knocked on the door and when there was no answer, he had tried looking in the windows.
Yesterday morning, he had broken a back window and gone inside, afraid of what he might find. But the house was empty. There was no sign of foul play. No sign of the vampire at all. He had found a small suitcase containing women’s clothes, and an overnight bag in the living room.
He had found more clothing in the bedroom closet, which had him hoping that she was still alive and would be returning to the house sooner or later. On the other hand, he had known vampires to quit their current residence at a moment’s notice and never return.
He swore again. If anything had happened to the woman, it would be his fault. He had bungled this hunt from the beginning. He just hoped that Eva Black wasn’t paying for it. He had seen a number of vampire kills in his time. Bodies drained of blood, some with their throats torn away, some who appeared to be sleeping, until you realized their skin was the color of paper. Either way, it was never a pretty sight.
Killing a vampire was never easy, or pretty for that matter, he mused ruefully. Whether they were dispatched while resting in their coffins or they were awake and defending themselves, it was never easy and always messy.
“I’m going to go out and check the house again,” he said, caressing the hawthorn stake he had made earlier that day. “Maybe this time I’ll get lucky.”
“Okay, see ya,” Overstreet said.
Powering up his laptop, he began to write his next article.
So, dear reader, we come together again. Our subject this week is vampire hunters. I see your eyebrows going up, your smirk, your disbelief. Vampire hunters, indeed, you’re thinking.
Poppycock! Well, I didn’t think these wielders of holy water existed either, until I met one. To preserve his anonymity, I’m going to call him Steve.
Steve is thirty-five years old and he’s been hunting vampires for eighteen years. When I asked him how he came to such a profession, he shrugged and said, “It’s what my family does.”
Apparently vampire hunters are born, not made.
Vampire hunting, it turns out, is a pretty lucrative business, which is a good thing, since cleaning bills and new clothes for hunters are probably astronomical, given all the blood involved in lopping off heads and ripping out hearts.
But I digress. I can see that many of you are skeptical and think I’m making this up. Be assured that I’m quite serious. If you’re smart, you won’t wander outside after dark, or invite strangers into your house. If you’re a believer, buy yourself a good sturdy crucifix and keep it with you at all times. A word of caution, a cross is only as effective as your faith.
Until next time, watch your neck!
Chapter Twenty-Five
During the next several nights, Ronan introduced Shannah to a number of vampires, both male and female. Xavier and Tonio worked at the Aladdin, Michal worked at the Bellagio. Francine, who was tall and willowy with long blond hair and incredible green eyes, was a dancer in one of the night clubs on the Strip; Cleo was a standup comedienne, Domini was a cocktail waitress at the Diamondback.
Shannah found them all to be rather charming, especially Pete Sandoval. She hadn’t expected to like Ronan’s friends, and she hadn’t expected them to like her, either. After all, they were vampires, predators, and she was prey. It was all so strange. Looking at them, she never would have guessed they were vampires. Of course, Ronan didn’t look like one of the Undead, either, most of the time. Except for Pete Sandoval, all the vampires Ronan had introduced her to were young in the life. Of course, vampires considered anyone under two hundred years old to be young.
She watched them all, noting that they laughed at each other’s jokes, most of which Shannah found rather macabre. When they weren’t working, they went out on the town, going to the shows, trying their luck at the gaming tables, or just wandering along the city streets like the rest of the tourists, peering in shop windows, marveling at the lights and the fountains. She hadn’t expected vampires to have a sense of humor, or to enjoy shopping and movies. Ronan had been right. The Undead were pretty much like the living, all things considered.
Shannah enjoyed their company. But she enjoyed being alone with Ronan most of all. He took her to the best restaurants in the city and kept her company while she ate. He took her shopping at the most exclusive stores, insisting that she buy whatever she liked no matter what the cost. Until she met Ronan, she had never had the pleasure or the luxury of buying new clothes without worrying about the price. Her parents hadn’t been poor by any means, but they weren’t rich, either, at least not in the way Ronan was rich.
The only time she was ill at ease was when he left her at the hotel while he went in search of prey. She knew now where he had gone all those nights back home when he’d had to go out.
She tried to accept it, to tell herself that it was normal for him, a part of his existence, and that he would die without it. She reminded herself that he wasn’t really hurting the people he preyed upon, that, unlike movie vampires, he wasn’t a ravening monster who ripped out people’s throats. But the thought of what he did to survive, what his friends did, sickened her just the same.
He had given her his blood on numerous occasions.
It was the reason for her renewed health and strength. If it wasn’t for Ronan’s blood, she knew she would be dead now. How could she condemn him for drinking blood to stay alive when she had done the same thing, and for the same reason?
He was out hunting now. Rather than wait in their room, Shannah had gone down to the casino.
There was something exciting about the lights and the noise, though she tired of it all rather quickly. She glanced at her watch, wondering how much longer he would be, wondering what the tourists would think if they knew that the dealer at the blackjack table and the pretty waitress serving drinks were vampires.
Shannah was absently feeding quarters into her favorite slot machine when Ronan found her twenty minutes later.