Chapter Six

Max’s growing hunger surged at Erica’s invitation. What he wouldn’t give to truly show her everything he sensed she wanted to know about his world. Right now, with her eyes flashing, and the scent of defiance mixing with the aroma of her own arousal, she was everything he wanted--and nothing he dared take.

Her conflicting reactions at the club had told him much more than she ever would have. Truly drawing her into his world, maybe even into his life, would destroy everything about her that made her so irresistible.

He wrenched his gaze away from her and tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

“I’ll do what I can.” He choked out the words. “Tomorrow I’ll put out some feelers and let some of my contacts know that I’m looking for someone. I’ll see if I can get reservations at some of the other more private clubs, and I’ll pick you up.” What was he saying? Pick her up? Take her with him? He should have pushed her out of the car and driven away as fast as he could. The playacting tonight was just that. It wasn’t real. Her arousal--his own--were just illusions. Her fear and her naiveté made her seem, just for a moment, like she was giving herself over to something she wanted but was afraid to admit to herself. He would have given anything to see that happen, to watch her discover that part of herself she so obviously denied. He was kidding himself. When she’d obeyed his command to lick a drop of her drink from his fingertip, he’d caught the most alluring glimpse of something wanton in her eyes.

Then it was gone.

The challenge she’d just issued to him was no more than a schoolyard taunt. She thought she could handle it, but she had no idea.

“I’ll come a little early,” he continued, pushing his doubts to the side. “And we’ll go over a few more rules. You did well tonight, but tomorrow we’ll be in places where vampires don’t take new feeders. You’re going to have to act like you’re used to this world.”

She nodded. Something tightened in his groin at the thought that she might be eager to learn more.

“Wear something ... different.” He resisted the urge to touch the fabric of her blouse. “Elegant. Preferably black. No jewelry, no perfume.”

“Lower heels?” The hint of amusement in her tone disarmed him. If he hadn’t been fighting so hard to hold it together, he’d have taken her right then.

“Yes. And ... I’ll have to bite you again. Just a little.” Would a little be enough? Could he stop again at the smallest taste? Her flavor lingered on his tongue still, and the memory threatened to drive him mad. He’d have to make sure he fed well tonight.

“As long as it won’t hurt.”

“It won’t hurt,” he assured her as she climbed out of the car. At least it won’t hurt you.

* * * *

Erica left her clothes in a pile on the bathroom floor and stepped into the steaming spray of the shower. Hot needles of water dug into her flesh from the massaging showerhead, and the glorious sensation made her sigh.

The tension that had built in her muscles since the moment she’d laid eyes on Maxwell Hart finally loosened and drained away. In its place a weakness washed over her that frightened her.

She leaned against the cool tiles and gulped the humid air. What had she gotten herself into?

* * * *

Her scent lingered in the car. Max opened the windows and picked up speed to keep the cool air in his face. He had half an hour until daybreak, and he had to feed soon or he’d end up back at Erica’s apartment. He couldn’t go back to After Dark. At this hour, Kyra was his only option.

A quick detour to the highway brought him to her development. At 4:45 he knocked on her door.

He sighed heavily and sidled through the door when she appeared. “I need you.” He hated taking advantage of her like this, but her seductive smile told him she didn’t mind.

Once inside he leaned against the door and took in her familiar scent. The place looked the same as always: clothes and Chinese takeout containers littered every available surface. Under the layer of flotsam, her new furniture looked worn and outdated. A red jar candle flickered on the mantle where a picture lay face down. Max detected the aroma of cinnamon overlaying the lingering essence of moo goo gai pan.

With a sigh, he followed her to the bedroom of the bungalow, his eyes on the faint remnants of the mark he’d left on her neck a week ago. She shrugged off her robe as she walked, leaving the flowered silk on the floor next to the bed.

“Where’ve you been tonight, Max? You look so tired.” He normally found the sensual purr of her voice soothing, but tonight he wished for silence. Kyra wasn’t the submissive type, and if he ordered her to be quiet while he took what he wanted, she’d kick him out. He used to like her independent streak.

“I’m working a new case.” He bit the words out as he folded her slim body into his arms. He used to like the feel of her against him too, but tonight she felt fleshless. She made comforting sounds as he sank his incisors into her skin. The warmth of her eased the cold hollow inside him somewhat, and as he drank, he waited for the bloodlust to take him. He needed that release too, but oddly, aside from lessening his hunger, he felt nothing. The hard-on he’d been battling since the moment he’d tasted Erica began to subside as he took his fill.

When he finished, Kyra threw herself back on the bed, ready for what usually came next. She held her arms out to him and smiled. “Come on ... let Kyra make it all better.”

He glanced at the bedroom window where a black shade hung ready to block out the morning light. He could stay. She’d welcome a captive vampire for the day, but if he left right now he might make it back to his place before the clouds parted and the damning daylight took over.

“I wish I had the time.” He hated lying. Kyra had always been good to him. Always available when he wanted her. She’d even given up smoking after he told her how the nicotine left a bad aftertaste that most vamps didn’t care for. He fished a fifty out of his wallet and handed it to her.

She pouted. “Oh come on, Max! You’re going to leave me like this? What’s up with you?”

Apparently nothing, at the moment, he thought wryly. That had never happened before. He often fantasized about other women when he was with Kyra but the fantasies had always helped make it hotter, harder. Tonight, Kyra’s willing body seemed like a pale shadow. The taste of her blood wasn’t quite as sweet as he remembered. He wanted Erica. Maybe if he pictured her, conjured her scent with his mind he could ...

“I’m tired. I’ve got to go. Next time, babe. I’ll make it up to you.”