Delilah Devlin - My Immortal Knight 04 (8 page)

She paused as Darcy poured another finger of whiskey into her glass.
Her throat was really dry. She took a drink and looked up to find both women
staring expectantly. “Well, those who are born don’t like the made ones very
much—they tend to bring attention to the whole population. That’s partly why
there are so few.”

“Purges, hunts?” Darcy said.

Pia nodded.

“But that doesn’t ‘splain why werewolves hate vampires,” Emmy said.

Pia frowned, trying to remember the rumors told by other vamps on the
fringes of those who would know—the ancient ones. “Their population is very
small. They don’t usually risk turning humans to werewolves because those
creatures tend to be unstable. They need breeders.”

Emmy’s flushed face blanched pale. Darcy shot her a strained look.

Pia noted the byplay, but her brain was a little too muzzy to
understand. “And not many breeders exist,” she continued. “So werewolves take
it personally when a vamp mates with one.” Pia shrugged. “Wouldn’t you take it
personally if a vamp robbed you of a chance at continuing your species?”

“Bugger,” Emmy muttered, shoving her glass away.

“Funny how our two senior citizens never mentioned that story,” Darcy
murmured.

“It’s not common knowledge among vamps—there are very few opportunities
for the two species to tread on each other’s toes. Breeders are that rare.”

Darcy’s eyebrows lifted. “Well, I’m glad we had this little talk.”

“Me too,” Emmy said glumly.

“You don’t think your werewolves are sniffing around a breeder, do
you?”

“’Course not. What would be the chances?” Emmy said briskly. “Is there
any more of that liverwurst?”

Pia looked from one woman to the other. Both their expressions were
pinched with worry. Something was definitely up. “So when are you due, Darcy?”

The dark-haired woman’s face relaxed fractionally. “At the end of the
month,” she said, smoothing her hand over the mound of her belly.

“I think that’s the only thing I miss about being human,” Pia said,
sighing.

“Have you been one for very long?” Darcy asked.

Pia grinned. “Well, I’m not as ancient as your old man, Emmy, but I’ve
been around the block a time or two. I was turned back in the twenties.”

“You were a flapper girl?” Emmy said, her face lighting with enthusiasm
again.

“A gangster’s moll, actually. Can’t you picture it?”

Emmy tilted her head to the side, smiling. “Carmine red lipstick, one
of those chiffon and silk chemises—yeah, I can picture it.”

“So what happened?” Darcy asked.

Pia blew out a breath. “The usual. Wrong place, wrong time. I went to a
dance hall where the bootleg whiskey was pouring a little too freely.” She
raised her glass. “I’ve always loved the taste of whiskey. But I swear, that
night I only had two drinks and there I was dancing on a table. I’m sure
someone put something in my drink.”

Emmy wrinkled her nose. “So, some studly vamp fell for you in a hard
way and had to ‘trink your blahd’?”

“No. I distracted the partygoers, and G-men raided the party. My table
got flipped and next think I knew, I was waking up with a cracked skull and a
vamp who looked like Mortimer Snerd sucking me dry.”

“Who’s Mortimer Snerd?”

Pia laughed. “You’re such a baby.”

“Well, I liked the sucking you dry part,” Darcy said, waggling her
eyebrows.

“Darcy! You have such a dirty mind,” Emmy cried.

“I can’t help it,” Darcy said, blushing. “All I think about these days
is sex. Quentin won’t do the mambo with me until I pop.”

“You make it sound like you aren’t doing anything!” Emmy rolled her
eyes. “What’s all that commotion I hear from your wing of the house?”

Darcy swatted Emmy’s arm, while Pia chuckled.

“So, was anyone going to tell me there was a new vamp in town?” a new
voice chimed from the doorway.

Pia peered around her shoulder, swaying in her chair. “You Lily?”

The newcomer strode inside, dressed in an oversized T-shirt and
stretchy pants. Her brown hair glinted red in the light from the chandelier.

Pia’s glance caught on the small mound of her stomach pressing against
the cotton shirt. “Good God! Is it in the water?”

Max sat at the far end of the conference room table with his arms
folded over his chest, waiting for the rest of the team to assemble. He felt
like hell and knew he looked it, too. He hadn’t bothered with a shave, and his
uniform had that “lived in” smell.

When he’d left the house he hadn’t brought a clean uniform with him.
He’d just wanted to put as many miles between him and that woman as he could.
So he’d changed into the uniform he’d discovered at the bottom of his locker
and hit the firing range. Two demolished targets later, he still hadn’t worked
the rage out of his system.

He’d let her go. His mission in life was to keep people safe—and he’d
let a bloodsucker walk. His gut told him she wasn’t a stone-cold killer.

For one thing, she’d missed several opportunities to take him out when
he was his most vulnerable—sleeping a deep, dreamless sleep beside her, or lost
in the wonder of the most powerful orgasms he’d ever experienced.

He snorted, disgusted with himself. He should have known then she
wasn’t human.

Further, she had puppy-dog eyes—wide, brown, liquid—the kind that tore
at your heart.
Not
that she’d touched his. How could anyone who had her
soul shining in her eyes hide homicidal tendencies?

The conference room door swung open, and he pushed the memories aside.
He had work to do. Werewolves to track and kill. Vampires to expunge from the
planet.

Joe walked in, dressed in SU black, a coffee cup in his hand. “Hey
buddy.”

Max bristled, grunting his displeasure at Joe’s familiar greeting.

Despite the less-than-polite acknowledgement he’d received, the vamp
sat beside him. His gaze swept over Max. “Looks like you had a rough day.”

Max’s arms tensed, bulging his biceps as he tried to contain the growl
rumbling in his chest.

Joe’s lips curved, and he tilted his chair, balancing it on two legs.
“Captain Springer had the daytime team pull every report of animal attacks in
recent weeks,” he said casually. “Other than a few missing dogs attributed to
gators, nothing came up. Think we have an isolated incident?”

Max grunted, wishing the others would hurry it up. Making small talk
with the undead thing wearing his friend’s face made his stomach churn.

“We’re going to make the rounds of the ‘blood banks’ tonight. See
whether anyone’s heard anything. We’ll also check out any new vampires in
town.”

Max stiffened.

Joe lifted an eyebrow and gave a slight smile—the mischievous sort Max
had often seen before Joe turned. “You’ll be with me.”

“Wearing your flak jacket tonight,
Garcia
?” Max said, keeping
his voice even.

“Will I be needing it—
Max
?”

“You never know,
old buddy
.”

The door opened again, and the rest of the team filed in. Max forced
himself to relax. He felt so wound up, he was a hair-trigger away from
exploding. The Captain knew better than to partner him with Joe—he’d made his
feelings clear on that issue.

However, the sly look in Joe’s face when he’d mentioned scouting for
new vamps in town had raised red flags. He knew about Pia. Max had known the
bitch was too good to be true—even before he’d discovered she was a
bloodsucker. Just his damn luck the most appealing woman he’d met in years…

Maybe shadowing Joe for the night wasn’t such a bad idea. He might get
a chance to figure out what she was doing here and how The Council might be
involved. Remembering his brother’s suggestion to pal around with Joe, Max
decided to play it cool and keep his ears and eyes open.

He glanced across the table and found Quentin’s gaze trained on him.
Something was definitely up. The bastard’s face always sported a smirk. Now,
his expression was a blank slate.

*
* * * *

Max’s head pounded in time with the heavy beat of the rock n’ roll
blaring inside the last stop of the night. Nine Inch Nails music couldn’t have
been more appropriate for his rotten mood.

“Look, I’m going to speak with the bartender,” Joe shouted into his
ear. “Why don’t you have a look around the backrooms, see whether everyone’s
playing nice.”

Max nodded, glad for the chance to shake Joe off his back for the first
time since they’d left the station. Maybe he’d even find some vamp action he
could sink his stake into.

The scene in the “blood banks” had undergone a dramatic change since
The Council came into being. Before, vamps had always sought their victims in
dark alleyways or the restrooms of the “blood banks”—seedy bars where the
pickings were easy. Lured by the erotic and sometimes hypnotic nature of the
vampires, humans followed them into darkness.

If they were vampires with souls or at least a healthy streak of
self-preservation, they played by the rules and drank only enough to sate their
appetites while leaving their human hosts slightly dizzy from blood loss. The
gift the humans earned in return for serving as meals-on-legs was a powerful
sexual release.

Since vamps were hard to spot unless they forgot to retract their teeth
or wore their monster faces, Max had often crept into dank, dark hidey-holes to
catch a vamp in action and dust him.

Now vamps had public places, poorly lit backrooms in bars, where humans
and vamps could mix and be watched. This was considered an improvement. So long
as the sexual conduct remained fairly PG, no one interfered with consensual
blood sharing. Prostitutes and thrill-seekers were the only human fare—that was
another rule: No innocents could be taken here.

When Max pushed through the door of the “feeding room”, he hoped for
one little scream so he could let loose.

The heavy thump of the drums was just as loud here as in the main hall,
because the room was packed. The sound of the bass beat was muffled, but
insistent, like a relentless, throbbing heart. A colorful light ball spun
overhead, painting the patrons in strobing, rainbow colors while they undulated
to the music and their sexual fervor.

Max edged around the room, checking the humans to make sure they were
conscious and pink-cheeked. Unfortunately, everyone appeared to be playing
nice.

Then he caught a glance of a familiar mane of glossy brown hair among
the dancers. He shoved between gyrating bodies until he stood behind Pia and
her human meal. The young man was groping her backside, grinding his hips into
hers while her face snuggled into the crook of his neck.

Max’s shoulders bunched tight as steel, and he saw red. His hand sought
the stake deep inside his pocket, but he realized he didn’t want to kill her.

No, he wanted to plant it deep inside the chest of the man who looked
ready to shoot his load in his pants.

Max watched the pair, letting his anger grow with each passing second
until the man’s face tightened with his release. Pia held him while the young
man spasmed, gasping as his orgasm rushed through him. Then she slowly pulled
away, licking his neck to close the punctures.

At the sight of Pia raising her face to kiss the guy’s cheek, Max had
all he could take. He stepped forward and clamped his hand on her shoulder,
squeezing hard.

Pia glanced back, but didn’t look particularly surprised to see him.
Blood stained her lips, and her vamp teeth peeked beneath her upper lip. She
turned to her host and murmured something that made him smile. He let her go
and headed for the bar. Then she shrugged her shoulder.

Max dropped his hand, but reached for her wrist and tugged her hard,
pulling her into his arms. “Didn’t you get my message,
sweetheart
?”

She pressed her hands against his chest and glared. “A girl has to eat.
I worked up quite an appetite last night.”

Slipping the stake from his pocket, he glided it along the bare skin of
her midriff. “Don’t think I won’t carry through. I let you off light the last
time.”

She shivered, and her nipples flowered, scraping his chest. “I’m a girl
who appreciates a good, hard poke.” Holding his gaze, she licked the last
traces of blood from her lips with a sensual sweep of her tongue. Her incisors
remained protracted.

Max’s body tightened, hard as the stake inside his fist. “You just
happened to be here, right? My last stop of the night.”

Her eyelids shuttered her expressive gaze. “And if I said, I’ve been
following you?”

“No way. You got here before I did.”

Pia lifted her lips fractionally, baring the length of her fangs. “I
work fast.”

“You wanted me to see you feed on him?”

“I want you to know what I am. I don’t want secrets.”

“Why would it matter to me?”