First Drop Of Crimson Part 14

Why were they leaving? Wasn't this the guy?

"Come on, darling," Spade said, kissing her lightly on the lips.

Spade led her out of the club and toward the entrance. Even at this hour, the casino was still fairly busy.

It wasn't until after the hotel limo picked them up and they were in the private elevators of the Red Rock that Denise asked the question she'd been wondering for half an hour.

"Wasn't that him?"

Spade gave her a knowing look as the elevator reopened on their floor. "Oh, it was, no question."

"Well?" she prodded. "Then why did we leave?"

He held open the door to the suite, waiting until they were inside and he'd done a quick sweep of the place to answer.

"Because now our friend is curious, comfortable, and happy at the prospect of relieving me of more quid when we next meet," Spade replied.

"You should never have gone all in on that last hand," Denise muttered.

He chuckled. "My poor dear. You'll have nightmares over that for days, won't you?" Denise shot him an exhausted look as she set her new shawl neatly on the red couch.

Spade sauntered over, none of her weariness in his gait.

"Casinos love rich losers. I couldn't have them asking me to leave after a run of luck that was too good to be true. Now Black Jack believes me to be a bad gambler, which is what I want him to think."

Denise admired his coolly logical strategy even as she winced over what it had cost him.

She hoped Spade recovered some of his losses tomorrow night, or she'd have to give him all of her 401(k).

"I'm washing my face and then pa.s.sing out," she announced. "Which bed do you want?"

"I'll take the guest room. Have some things to look up on my mobile first, so if you hear the shower later, it's only me."

Denise didn't think anything short of clanging cymbals could wake her once she hit the bed, but about half an hour later, she'd just drifted off when she knew she wasn't alone in the bedroom.

She kept herself perfectly still, listening to the slow slide of Spade's zipper being drawn down on his pants, the brush of fabric against skin as he drew his shirt off, and then the sounds of him gathering up his discarded clothes. Suddenly that bone-deep lethargy was gone and she felt very awake. Imagining Spade so close, totally naked, made her eyelids almost burn to open.

The shower came on, that cascade of water dulling the soft sounds Spade made. Where was he now? He moved so quietly, he could be right in front of her and she wouldn't know it. What if she opened her eyes and Spade was right there, close enough to touch?

Denise couldn't help it; her eyes slit open. Nothing in front of her. A soft click on the other side of the room was the shower door opening, she guessed. That was confirmed when she heard it again, the cadence of the water changing as Spade moved under the spray.

The water will steam the gla.s.s opaque, Denise reasoned. You won't be able to see anything. In fact, it's probably steamed up now*

As quietly as she could, she rolled over, keeping her face half concealed by the pillow.

The light in the shower illuminated Spade's bare, gorgeous flesh. The gla.s.s wasn't fogged. It didn't even look like it was there, giving her an uninterrupted view of him under the cascade of water. The sight made her lick her lips before she could stop herself.

Then Denise shut her eyes. Congratulations, you're officially a Peeping Tom. She should be ashamed, spying on Spade like that. If she had any dignity, she'd roll back over and face the wall. Now.

She opened her eyes again. Spade's back was to her, suds sluicing down his broad shoulders like sea foam. His hair was so black against the paleness of his skin, long strands separating under the streams of water. Those suds slid farther down his back, chased by spray, gathering at his waist and then dragging down the hard globes of his a.s.s.

Denise snapped her eyes shut. Took a deep breath and promised that she would not open them again. This wasn't right. It was an invasion of Spade's privacy, a violation of his trust, a*

She opened her eyes, smothering a gasp. Spade's hands caressed down his chest, more of those suds covering them. His head was back, eyes closed, water splashing onto his face and sluicing down to clear away the suds even as he lathered more across his skin.

She'd seen a few attractive naked men in her life, but none of them came close to Spade.

Every inch of his body was taut with perfectly proportioned muscles, like he'd been carved by an expert sculptor and then magically transformed into life. His height only emphasized his stunning physique with those long, powerful legs, rippled sinews crisscrossing his back, arms and chest flexing as he shampooed his hair next.

Stop looking. Right now.

She stared as Spade washed his hair, then turned to rinse the lather out, giving Denise another view of the jaw-dropping exquisiteness of his a.s.s. Her heart started to pound while an answering throb took up cadence far lower. She knew she had to shut her eyes, but she couldn't seem to do it. Spade pivoted again, this time facing her. Denise flinched guiltily, but his eyes were still closed against the suds trailing down his face. She let her gaze travel down the grooves of his chest, past his stomach, following the thin dark line of hair that flared when it met his groin*

Her mouth went dry while another part of her flamed with heat. Dimly she was aware that her heart was now hammering, but she couldn't look away. Spade's hands slid down his stomach, a wealth of suds in them, to close around the flesh crowned by that patch of dark hair.

Stop looking, stop looking!

Spade soaped the length of himself with a slow thoroughness, his flesh beginning to lengthen and thicken under his hands. Denise's gaze was welded despite her common sense howling at her to look away. She swallowed, that throb inside her doubling in intensity while heat spread through her. Was he getting hard as a natural reaction to touching himself while he washed? Or was he thinking of someone? Maybe even* her?

What if Spade caught her looking right now, but instead of being upset at her spying, beckoned her to join him?

Frustration finally snapped Denise's eyes shut. She wasn't done with her period yet, so even if her fantasy came true and Spade did invite her to join him, she couldn't. And even if she could, she shouldn't.

It wasn't fair. The first man since Randy who stirred her emotionally and physically was a vampire who thought humans were only good for eating and s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g, probably in that order. She'd already sacrificed her pride by accepting that she was nothing more than a costly thorn in Spade's side until they found Raum. The least she could do was avoid total humiliation by more rejection from him*or worse, being f.u.c.ked out of pity.

Denise hugged the pillow and rolled to face the wall, burying her face in it. Once this was over, she'd be okay. She'd go home, spend time with her family, and her infatuation with Spade would go away. Everything faded with time. Even, it seemed, her wild grief over Randy's death and the PTSD that used to strike every time she was around a vampire.

The shower shut off after a few more minutes. By that time, Denise's heart settled into a slower rhythm and that gnawing hunger inside her quieted to a dull ache.

See? she told herself grimly. Everything fades with time.

When Spade went into Club Priv with Denise the next evening, Black Jack was already there. It was just after eleven. Spade smiled inwardly. Not chancing missing me, were you, mate?

"Hallo, all," Spade said genially once he'd gotten his tray of chips. "I'm here to win back what I lost last night."

Everyone chuckled except Madox, the oil executive Spade had cleaned out. He gave Spade a single baleful look and then folded his hand.

"I'm done for the night," he announced.

"Still mad at him for calling your bluff, Madox?" Black Jack smirked. "Got to win and lose like a man, pardner."

"Redneck trash," Madox muttered under his breath.

Black Jack just laughed and slid Madox's chair out with his foot. "Siddown, Henry.

You're more fun than old Oil Slick, anyway."

Spade sat, Denise standing behind him. Personally, he thought it was a poor house rule that she couldn't sit next to him, but with luck, they wouldn't be here too long.

BJ glanced up at Denise, nodded, then resumed his attention to the game. The other two players who'd since folded were less respectful in their evaluation. If the gray-haired bloke stared any harder at Denise's cleavage, Spade would find a way to eat him before the clock struck midnight.

She did look exceptionally lovely in her strapless red dress with long white gloves. Her mahogany hair was up, leaving her neck enticingly bare and highlighting the diamond and ruby earrings he'd told her were costume.

If Spade had his preference, he'd be on a real date with Denise elsewhere, instead of making her stand here watching him play with this pack of sods. Still, tonight should bring him one step closer to that, if all went well.

Black Jack won the hand and then Spade was dealt in. He let the other players beat him in every round, until his chip supply had dwindled to less than half of what it started as.

Then Spade sighed with mock resignation.

"Think I'll chase my entertainment elsewhere. BJ, mate, any recommendations on where I can find some red-hot fun?"

His carefully chosen words struck the right chord. Although Black Jack's face remained impa.s.sive, he folded his hand when, by Spade's card-counting calculations, he had three of a kind in queens.

"Think I'm gettin' bored of poker, too," BJ said. "Wait up, Henry. I might know something you'll enjoy."

Spade cashed out his remaining chips and waited while Black Jack did the same.

"Chasing some red-hot fun, huh?" Black Jack remarked as they headed out of the Bellagio.

"Indeed. Preferably the kind that'll make the rest of my night with her even more enjoyable."

Spade kissed Denise's neck as he said it, savoring the shiver that went through her. He couldn't wait until he could kiss her and she'd know it wasn't part of an act.

"Let's try Drai's," Black Jack said. "I'm there more than I'm at the Bellagio nowadays.

Crowd's more compatible for me."

Black Jack glanced at Denise as he said that last sentence. Spade grunted. "No need for pretense. She knows what we are."

"Ah." The vampire smiled at Denise, fangs peeking out of his upper lip. "What's your name, gorgeous? Henry here's only ever called you darling." Noticed that, did you? Spade thought coolly, but before he could reply with a fake name, Denise answered.

"My name's Cherry."

Spade stifled his grin at Denise's choice of the name of their suite. Black Jack glanced at her again before meeting Spade's gaze.

"So, who do you belong to?"

Spade smiled pleasantly. "Myself."

BJ laughed. "No s.h.i.t. You don't feel like a Master, if you don't mind my sayin'."

"The Master of my line was killed several years back. Didn't give me a choice about being on my own. And you?"

"Mine doesn't like me to reveal who he is," Black Jack replied, his expression daring Spade to challenge that.

With Black Jack's occupation, Spade wasn't surprised. "That's quite all right. I don't need to know all your secrets* just one."

The vampire's brow arched. "And that one is?"

"Whether or not BJ stands for Black Jack, the person my mate Ian told me about," Spade replied.

The other vampire came to a halt. Spade waited, his arm still around Denise, ignoring the crowds pushing by the three of them.

"And what did Ian say?" Black Jack asked, his voice hardening.

Spade shrugged. "He told me if I had something very rare, something I'm interested in selling, that you were the one to see."

Denise shot a glance at Spade, but Black Jack laughed and started walking again. "You don't have anything to sell that I don't have better of. Guaranteed."

"Care to place a wager on that?" Spade asked mildly.

Interest flashed across Black Jack's face before he masked it. "What do you wanna bet?"

"All the money I lost to you that I've got higher-quality Red Dragon than the best you have to offer."

Now Denise really gave him a questioning glance, but Spade just squeezed her waist, silently telling her not to say anything.

"We'll talk more when we're in Drai's," Black Jack said. "Too many ears out here." Spade shrugged. "Lead the way, mate."

Chapter Eighteen.

Denise pursed her lips as they went down the stairs of the Bombay Coast hotel. Drai's was underground, of course. What better environment than a black-and-red lacquered bas.e.m.e.nt-turned-nightclub to discuss selling her blood? She didn't know what Spade's plan was, but she didn't like it.

And when Denise got a good look at the people in Drai's, she really didn't like it. Almost a third of them were vampires. Their pale skin and too-graceful movements gave them away compared to the other patrons, even in the very low lighting.

She shuddered. Underground in a place filled with the undead. Possibly the drug-addicted undead, and here she was, with a narcotic fountain running through her veins. Oh yeah, a PTSD attack couldn't be too far off.

"Let's get a drink," Black Jack said.

Denise wasn't drinking anything here. It would probably come spiked with supernatural roofies, but when they got to the bar, she ordered a scotch to look polite. She hoped Black Jack wouldn't notice the level of liquid in her gla.s.s never went down.

Spade sipped his own scotch and exchanged absolutely pointless pleasantries with Black Jack for about ten minutes. It was enough to make Denise grind her teeth in frustration, which didn't help the panicked, claustrophobic feelings already rising in her. So many pale faces. Cool flesh all around her. Blood would follow. Death would follow. It always did.

Black Jack gave her a suspicious look. "You all right, missy? You smell awful nervous." Denise tried harder to push back the memories, but they came faster than even her improved willpower could deal with. We're trapped. That terrible howling. All those screams. Something wet and thick on the kitchen floor*

"I don't think I can do this," she mumbled.

Spade began rubbing her shoulders with firm, soothing strokes. "There, darling, just relax. You'll get your fix soon."

Denise concentrated on the feel of his hands*strong, cool, and steady. They were her anchor while she kept trying to pull her mind out of the deadly quicksand of memories.