First Drop of Crimson

Chapter Six

Denise couldn’t tear her eyes away from the two vampires circling each other, even though her common sense screamed at her not to watch. She and Alten were still seated at the table, but everyone else hung back by the walls, giving Spade and Turner the majority of the room for their imminent fight. The ballroom doors were guarded and the catering staff quickly green-eyed into not noticing the abrupt change in the party atmosphere. Even being in a public hotel wouldn’t stop this duel from happening. To make matters worse, Spade was weaponless while Turner had a large silver knife.

She leaned across the empty seat toward Alten. “Why isn’t Spade allowed to have a weapon?” she whispered.

The vampire looked startled that she’d spoken to him, but he replied in a low voice, “He’s allowed. He’s just choosing not to use one.”

“Why?” Denise blurted.

Dozens of heads swung her way. Even Spade paused in his predatory stride to throw her a single glare that spoke volumes.

Right. Guess it wasn’t appropriate “property” behavior for her to wonder why Spade would fight unarmed against a vampire who had a big damn knife!

Something blurred, then a red slash appeared under Spade’s chest. Somehow, the two vampires were now several feet away from where they’d been an instant ago and Turner’s knife had a smear of red on it. Denise fought back a gasp. He’d slashed Spade too quickly for her to see it.

“Forfeit the duel and give me my freedom,” Turner said, waving the knife while he began to circle again.

Spade laughed, a cold sound that was more scary than amused. “That was your best chance to kill me, but you missed it. How long do you think you’ll be able to hold on to that knife until I take it from you?”

The wound on Spade’s chest closed before he was finished speaking, but the smear remained. It was so vivid against the pale, muscled smoothness of his skin. Like scarlet against snow. Spade’s eyes glowed with green fire, meeting Turner’s equally bright gaze.

Denise couldn’t stop the flood of mental images. Glowing green eyes burning through the waning light. Vampires everywhere, blood and dirt spattering them. She slipped, landing in something dark and sticky. The stain coated the floor, widening as it led to the kitchen…

“No,” she whispered, pushing at the memories. Not now. Not here.

Alten looked at her sharply, but this time, Spade didn’t deviate his attention from Turner. Another blur of limbs ended with Turner thrown onto his back, Spade standing over him holding that silver knife.

“Lose something?” Spade asked, wiggling it.

Turner had blood on him now, too, in a red X on his chest that remained even as his cuts healed. The X was directly over where his heart would be. Denise shuddered. The warning couldn’t be clearer.

The memories continued to push as her. Blood looks different in the dark. Almost black. Green light from a passing vampire’s gaze shone on the large, misshapen lumps in front of her. What were those?

Her hands went to her head, pressing against her temples as if she could physically force the memories back. Not. Now.

Turner lunged, nothing more than a pale streak of movement to her eyes. Spade whirled, more red appearing on Turner as if by magic. Another rush of flesh, a cry, and Turner stumbled back, clutching his stomach. Something thick and wet hit the floor.

Denise wound her hands in Spade’s discarded shirt to keep from screaming and bolting out of her chair. Spade’s whole hand and wrist were red, not to mention the knife, but he stood there almost casually, waiting while Turner gasped in pain, bent over.

“Hurts quite a bit, doesn’t it?” Spade asked. “It’s one thing to get cut up in a brawl, but another to have your guts spilled out of you. Have to be very strong to fight through that sort of pain. You’re not nearly strong enough, but you want to be Master of your own line?”

“No one’s…strong enough,” Turner got out, straightening at last. His stomach was healed, but it had taken several seconds. Long enough for Spade to have killed him multiple times over, if he’d wanted to.

Spade’s brow arched. “Is that so?” He tossed the knife at Turner’s feet. “Strike the same blow, and if you can land that blade through my heart before I’ve recovered from it, you win your freedom.”

Denise sucked in a horrified breath. Was Spade crazy? Why wasn’t anyone else speaking up about what an insane suggestion that was?

Turner’s blond head seemed to merge with Spade’s black one as he leapt at him in a flurry of movement. For a few frenzied moments, their bodies were a crystal-and-red splattered whir, until Turner fell back with the knife’s hilt buried in his chest where the red X had been. Spade stood over him, one hand across his stomach, something red and squishy-looking near his feet.

“Yield, or I’ll twist that knife,” Spade said darkly.

Turner looked at the blade sticking out of his chest and then his head flopped back. “I withdraw my challenge,” he rasped.

Denise felt an instant of overwhelming relief. Then she threw up into Spade’s designer shirt.

Spade slid into the car, his coat the only thing on over his pants. Denise was waiting in the passenger seat, looking like she wished the ground would swallow her.

“I’m so sorry, I’ll have your shirt dry cleaned,” she said as soon as he shut the door.

He let out a short laugh. “That’s quite all right. I threw it away.”

“There’s no way to describe tonight without using the phrase cluster fuck, is there?” she asked dryly.

My dear Denise, you have no idea. “It changes things,” he said at last. “No one would believe you’re merely my property after tonight.”

Her expression flittered between sorrow and accep tance, then she forced a smile. “I understand. Thanks for all you’ve done. I know where not to look for Nathanial now, and that’s a start. Oh, and you don’t have to worry. I still won’t involve Bones. I’ll find another way.”

Spade continued to stare at her, unblinking. This was his chance to be rid of her. He needed to take it. It was for the best.

Instead he found himself saying, “I won’t leave you without help.”

Gratitude flashed across her face. “I’ll be so much better with whoever you refer me to. I’ll act obedient, I won’t puke on their clothes—”

He stifled a snort. “Good to know, since it will still be me.”

“But you just said no one would believe I’m your property anymore.”

They certainly wouldn’t, but that wasn’t her fault. It was his. He’d whisked her away when she panicked, though any self-respecting Master would have sent someone else to calm her. Then he’d clung to her hand, seated her at his right, obeyed her demand to stay for the duel, nearly gotten himself killed being distracted by her, and rushed to her side after she’d sprayed vomit into his shirt.

Indeed, there was no chance his people would believe she was just his property anymore.

“We’ll have to play a besotted couple instead of a vampire and his property. It will require more acting on both our parts, but nothing that will violate your limits.”

She looked confused. “I thought you said that would be suspicious, because you don’t date humans.”

“It will complicate things, but if we find Nathanial soon, the charade could be brushed off as a passing fancy.” Or passing stupidity, if he was being more accurate.

She touched his hand. Her fingers were so warm on his cooler skin. Just another reminder of her humanity.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Spade said tightly.

Fool, he lashed himself. He wasn’t doing this out of pity, obligation, or honor, as Denise might believe. No, he’d just recommitted to helping her for the staggeringly witless reason of not wanting to let her go yet.

Even now, her scent and nearness tantalized his senses. It was the height of stupidity to be tempted by a woman he could neither bite nor shag. Perhaps for his next brilliant notion, he’d take up shaving with a chain saw.

He pushed that aside. Yes, he’d felt an unusual draw to her from the start, but it was just the circumstances that made her extra tempting. Denise was forbidden, so as a result, he wanted her. Add in danger, uncertainty, and close proximity, and it was no wonder he was lusting after her.

But nothing would come of it. Because she was a human, only a few heartbeats stood between Denise and the grave. So fragile, he thought, looking at her. So easily destroyed…

Spade glanced away. Detachment was what he now needed. Detachment, and a demon-dodging sod named Nathanial.

“Tomorrow we’ll leave for New York. I know the Master of another large line we can check next.”

Her fingers slid off his hand. “We’ll just go from Master vampire to Master vampire, checking through their people?” Denise’s tone said she thought that was akin to looking for a needle in a haystack.

“For a start. Once I’ve exhausted my friends’ lines, we’ll have to try different measures.”

Ones that would be more dangerous than sifting through his allies’ people, but he wouldn’t expose Denise to the darker side of the vampire world again, if he could help it.

By the time they arrived back at the house, Spade felt in control again. Denise tried once or twice to speak to him during the drive, but he kept his answers short. Soon she fell silent. Once inside, he brought her up to his room—the only place anyone would expect her to sleep, after tonight’s display—then went to shower without another word. When he came out, she was already asleep, curled on her side in his bed.

He gave her a final, grim look before he settled himself into a chair and closed his eyes. Sleep was what he needed. He’d feel better on the morrow.

When he fell asleep, however, he kept dreaming of Denise…only her hair was blond, her eyes were brown, and her throat had been cut from ear to ear.