In the Dark (6 page)

“Ian.”

I wiped my eyes
on my sleeve. Sebastian’s sleeve, I realized, too late.
“Sorry,” I said, holding the reddened fabric up.

He shrugged. “I
will get you a clean one, if you like.”

I did like. He
brought one, and I ducked into the hallway to change. If I took a
little longer than that in order to compose myself, Sebastian didn’t
complain when I came back into the living room. Feeling a little
wrung out, but ready to move forward, I asked the question I wasn’t
sure I wanted answered.

“What’s
the plan?”

“We’re
going to the Half-Moon.” Sebastian picked up his coat.

“Now?”
I asked.

“Why not?”

I didn’t
want to walk into the mouth of danger, but if he came with me it
might be okay. “No reason, I guess. All right. Why are we going
there?”

His eyes flashed
a smile. “To see if a criminal really will return to the scene
of a crime,” he deadpanned.

“Oh.”

He belted on his
sword, pulling his long coat over it. Once he had the coat on, I
couldn’t see the sword unless I looked very hard. Like it was
part of him.

I didn’t
have a coat. Or keys. Or a sword, for that matter. I went and found
my boots. Lacing them up without Kent to help me was a pain in the
ass and nearly started me crying again. Sebastian just waited for me,
then hit the call button for the elevator when I stood. It reminded
me of the two I’d just walked out. And the sweet smile one of
them had given me.

“Who was
the blond?” I asked.

Sebastian
shrugged. “One of Josephine’s. Emily, I think. I’m
not certain.”

“Ah.”
Emily – I was right. My eyebrows puckered. “Why won’t
you help Josephine?”

We got on the
elevator, me watching Sebastian, Sebastian paying attention to
nothing in particular. I still got the feeling he noticed every move
I made.

“I see no
need,” he said. “I am looking into this as a diversion.
If she can offer information I did not have before, I will ask her
for it.”

“It would
make her feel better. She just wants to be included.”

He didn’t
answer.

“What
would it hurt?” I pressed.

His eyes
darkened. “What would it accomplish, besides making Josephine
feel better?”

“Isn’t
that enough of a reason?”

His eyes went
darker. “I have made my decision, Ian.”

“Yeah,
well, I don’t agree with it.” I crossed my arms.

“You have
that right.”

I sighed and let
it go for now. This argument was far from over, though.

The elevator let
us out in the garage, and we left for the Half-Moon.

W
e
left the car and headed for the club, both of us staying as silent as
we had on the trip over. As we got closer, the people in line started
noticing us – and then promptly pretended they hadn’t. We
weren’t dressed for the Half-Moon. I focused on my boots, too
tired to even feel embarrassed. We made the door without getting
openly harassed, but once we got there the bouncer crossed his arms
like he thought we were joking.

I bit my lip,
trying to make up reasons the guy should let us in. Telling him
there’d been a murder wasn’t one of them. But before I
could start stammering bull, Sebastian stepped in front of me and
gave the guy one hard, flat look. The bouncer’s face suddenly
went slack, like his brain had lost contact with it.

“Step
aside,” Sebastian said quietly, but very firmly. I almost
obeyed.

The bouncer took
one wooden step out of the way. As if this happened all the time,
Sebastian walked past him and went in. I couldn’t make myself
follow. I stared at the bouncer while my stomach wrung itself up in a
knot. He didn’t stare back. It seemed like he stayed that way
for a long time, but before I could even swallow uneasily, his face
came back to life again and his eyes started to focus on me. That
almost creeped me out more. I ran in behind Sebastian.

The club was
still dark inside and still packed. Saturday. The noise, the smell,
the crowd all suffocated me. I thought about walking right back out.
I settled for hunching my shoulders and stayed close to Sebastian.

We found an
out-of-the-way booth against one wall. Sebastian slid in on one side,
I took the other. My stomach grumbled loud at the thick smell of
sweat and blood warming the air. I’d eaten only a day or two
ago; I shouldn’t have been this hungry so soon.

Of course. All
the blood I cried had to come from somewhere. I needed more.

That realization
was a little disturbing.

Sebastian
watched the dance floor. I shifted in my seat, getting more and more
hungry and wondering how to excuse myself politely. With Kent, just
slipping off told him enough. Finding a way to tell a near-stranger
that I needed to go drink someone’s blood didn’t come so
easy. Was there some sort of vampire etiquette?

I squirmed. The
music didn’t seem so loud suddenly. In fact, I started feeling
better. My hunger was distracting me, giving me something simpler to
worry about. And if I thought about that too hard, I might start
hating myself.

“I’m
gonna go dance,” I said, looking away from Sebastian. It was
the best “excuse me, I gotta go drink some blood” I could
come up with.

A slender man
walked by the booth, done in tight black so thin I could see the
rings in his nipples. I ran my tongue over my fangs. They weren’t
long at all, but razor sharp.

Sebastian
nodded. I slid out of my seat before he could change his mind.
Without another look around, I followed the man in black.

His skin had the
color of coffee-with-cream, striking with the black and silver. I
could smell him from ten feet away: clean, salty, a hint of musky
cologne. He walked up to the bar and I slid up beside him, as close
as I could without being utterly rude. He glanced over as my arm
brushed his – so warm. I smiled, narrowing my eyes. Felt my
pupils dilate as less light fell on them, watched his widen in
response. I had that effect on people. Whether I had dressed for the
Half-Moon or not, he was interested.

Not half as
interested as me.

“Hi.”
I said it low and looked away, letting my eyes linger almost
indecently before I did. I pretended to watch the door, then turned
back to him. Caught him looking at me. I met his eyes with another
smile.

“Hi.”
His voice flowed over me like melted chocolate, thick and dark.

A delightful
shiver trailed its finger up my spine. I met his eyes and leaned
toward him less than an inch. His body would notice. “Come here
much?” I asked. He stood a little taller – letting me get
a better look.

“My
favorite club,” he said. He ordered a glass of white wine, then
raised an eyebrow at me.

“The
same,” I told the bartender. I couldn’t drink it anyway,
why get something I wanted?

“On me,”
the coffee-and-cream man added. I graced him with another smile.

Before the wine
had a chance to arrive, I stepped closer to my chosen donor. I
imagined just reaching for him right there, pulling him to me and
dipping my canines into his soft, smooth skin.

“Wanna
dance?” I invaded the very edge of his personal space. If I was
coming on too heavy, he’d lean away from me now. I wanted to
cross my fingers.

He leaned
closer. My head swam. My stomach cramped angrily, insisting I
dispense with the formalities.

Patience.

“Sure,”
he said, lower than before.

I closed my hand
over his, feeling his warmth, and led him to the floor. I kept my
thoughts on him instead of the music – I didn’t have to
try hard. Moving to the beat got his heart going, strengthening the
smell of his blood. I could have drooled.

I kept the
contact light at first, fingertips brushing his face, hand down his
arm. Feeling him out, seeing how much he wanted. When he kept
dancing, dark eyes following me, I pressed closer, gently, teasing us
both with the contact.

Finally I
couldn’t take the tension anymore. On the third song, eyes on
his, I pressed myself up to him and buried my mouth against his. He
pressed back into me. He tasted of wine and cigarettes until the
moment I dragged my teeth against his lower lip; then the sweet taste
of blood tinged with sharp alcohol and nicotine filled my mouth. He
didn’t even flinch. I dug my nails into his back, moist and hot
from dancing, and held him against me. I nursed the small marks on
his lip, letting his heat leak into me.

It wasn’t
enough. Mostly I could steal what I needed with a kiss. Not this
time. Filling my mouth took ages. His blood tasted too good, I wanted
to pull harder – but I would hurt him if I did. I let go and
stepped back, watching him. His eyes followed me.

“Come with
me,” I said, leaning to speak into his ear. Hunger made me
tremble. He read it as something else entirely.

He followed me
off the dance floor. I took him to one of the shadowy alcoves
arranged around the club, designed for people seeking a little
privacy. The shadows slipped over us, hid us. I slid my hands under
his shirt. He reached for mine, hands smooth on my skin. I let him
unbutton it, but didn’t let him take it. I pressed my face
close to him, lips brushing the soft spot where shoulder and neck
meet. Mouth open, I tasted his salty skin, felt his pulse jump under
my tongue. My lips pulled back all on their own. My teeth slid in as
his hands slid inside my jeans, one soft, smooth motion that made us
both gasp. Blood spurted into my mouth. I let my teeth out of the
wounds and swallowed without sucking, letting his heart pump more to
me.

I sighed against
him. He moaned, too, enjoying it at least as much as me. Kent had fed
from me once, when he made me. I knew the feel – shuddering
rapture. It worked both ways, I’d found out. Feeding was just
as addicting. I let it go on until the small wounds stopped bleeding
on their own. Just a few mouthfuls.

I slid my mouth
from his neck, leaning against him. He sighed. I kissed him again,
since his lips were so delightfully soft. Licked at the little spot
of blood on his neck.

“That was
amazing,” he murmured. He reached up to slide his arms around
me and I let him, listening to his heart pound with my ear against
his chest. It sounded frantic at first, pumping hard. I listened to
it slow down, gradually, until I heard a steady, calm beat. Once his
heartbeat had settled, I moved to button my shirt. I let my fingers
slide across my belly. Warm again, for a while.

He looked a
little woozy, but otherwise fine. He’d have a hangover in the
morning, nothing else. No worse than donating a pint – less
than a pint, actually. I personally thought I traded my donors
something better than a cookie and some juice.

“Gotta
go,” I told him. “Thanks.”

He blinked
several times. I kissed him, then ducked away before he could
recover.

Standing up, I
straightened my borrowed shirt and ran my fingers through my hair a
few times to straighten it. Tapping one hand against my leg to the
beat, I made my way back to Sebastian, who was watching me with flat
eyes. I slid into my spot across from him, licking the corners of my
mouth to check for missed drops. None there.

“Finished?”
he asked, voice flat as well.

I shifted in my
spot and bit my lip. “Yeah, I’m good.”

He nodded
without speaking, staring at the dance floor. When he didn’t
talk at all, I tried to ignore him and watch the crowd, too.
Wondering if we’d even see the woman tonight, half-hoping we
didn’t, glad I had someone else here in case we did –

And there she
was. Dancing in a skimpy silver top that matched her eyes, blond hair
halfway down her back. Alone on the dance floor, moving to the music
as if she had nothing else to think about. I pressed myself back in
my seat.

“Sebastian!”
I couldn’t hear my own voice, but he glanced at me. I pointed.
“That’s her!”

S
ebastian
followed Ian’s pointed finger and saw a swarm of people.

“Which
one?”

“The one
in the silver top, with the blond hair to her ass. Her.” Ian’s
voice was high and panicky.

“Stay
here,” he told her, and stood.

Something didn’t
feel right. Why would the killer come here to dance? Returning should
have meant searching for Ian, stalking, tailing, trying to silence a
witness. Why would she act so casual in a place she herself could be
found?

I would, were
I her.
To induce paranoia, to gloat. She might simply believe
herself that good.

His lips
quirked.
Very well.

He stalked past
the dancers. They moved aside for him, as if to avoid being touched.
He reached her easily. Before she could move away, he grabbed her by
the shoulder. She jumped and cried out, offering only feeble
resistance. Her skin felt warm. Warmer than even a recently fed
vampire should feel.

A human girl?

Some sort of
vampire hunter, perhaps. It did happen from time to time.

“Come with
me.” He pulled her off the dance floor. She followed, stumbling
and protesting. No one paid heed.

When Sebastian
reached the front door the bouncer narrowed his eyes. “She’s
with me,” Sebastian told him, taking on the tone that convinced
them to listen carefully to what he said. The bouncer looked unsure,
then shrugged and let them by.

In the alley
behind the club Sebastian drew her around and let her go. With her
back to the wall she had nowhere to run, and no choice but to face
him.

“What do
you know about Kent?” he demanded, watching her cower. He
should have killed her immediately, would have once, when her life
and the end of it would have meant nothing to him. Now . . . now he
had sworn to take no life without reason, no matter how insignificant
that life might be. And this felt wrong. A human girl, where he had
expected another vampire. Human hunters did exist, and he wanted to
know whether this girl fell under that category. But he felt nearly
certain that Ian had made a mistake.