boss and he’d just told her to leave. Never beg another man again.
Nodding past a lump in her throat, she turned and ran to her room. She closed the door and leaned against it. No big deal, it was only a job, right? Fired, and only a few days as a companion. She lifted her hand and rubbed the center of her chest. But, God. A raw sob broke from deep within her. When had losing a job hurt so much?
11
Life: It is about the gift not the package it comes in.
—Dennis P. Costea Jr.
The scent of death intermingled with exhaust fumes. The gush of blood through Luke’s lips slowed to a trickle, a signal the body he held had been bled dry. Blood went stale within a matter of seconds. He cradled the male’s neck and pulled away, closing his eyes as a wave of ecstasy rushed through him. He laid the tall, thin male next to his dead companion. Their glassy eyes, cold as the cobblestones beneath them, stared at the night sky blanketing the city. The moon shone bright, even over the lights of Rome.
Luke pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sides of his mouth. Crimson stained the pale yellow cotton. Tossing it on top of the shorter man’s barrel-like torso, he stood. Savannah’s attackers were dead.
He should have felt a greater sense of justice in their deaths and yet drinking them dry did nothing to alleviate the hollow ache in his stomach. A baser need within him hungered for more torture and destruction. Only the terror in their expressions as he’d exited the shadows gave him a small measure of satisfaction. Anger and waning control had made the attack messy, according to vampire standards. Both men wore puckered gashes along the side of their necks where his fangs had ripped through their skin. Neither man had made it difficult, their bodies paralyzed before they’d realized what struck them.
Luke left the bodies lying in the alleyway and returned to his apartment. Leaving them so visible was not a wise decision, but if he touched them again, he’d rip them to pieces. To do so would only confirm him a monster.
Savannah had not left her room, and he sighed with relief. Despite the satisfaction of his kills, his thoughts remained disturbed and unpredictable. She was not like others. Everything about her drove him crazy and yet he felt for her.
Reaching into the freezer, he removed a bottle of Grey Goose and poured himself a tumbler full of the clear liquid. He sat on a living room sofa and downed his drink, relishing the sting of ice-cold vodka as it numbed his lips, tongue and throat. He tipped the bottle and filled his glass again. Drowning himself in alcohol for the unforeseeable future held great appeal. After all, he hadn’t been tanked in decades.
“Cheers.” He lifted the glass in toast to the darkness. The comfort night brought was so enjoyable. Gone with his humanity were blurred images and the sentiment of being lost. Vampire eyes gave the night life...a whole new rhythm and familiarity. Walls seemed to breathe as they hugged his living room and kitchen. The surface of the coffee table gleamed, its curves encrusted in detailed designs. Like vampires themselves, these material luxuries were beautiful but without life.
Reclining, he rested his head on the sofa and pressed a remote control to open the blinds. Moonlight streamed in behind him, highlighting the rest of the living room furniture and the white marble tiles of the kitchen floor. The rag Savannah had used on her cut mouth lay on the granite island across the room. The faint scent of her blood tempted him. How had life gotten this complicated? Merely a kiss, some touching.
He did not need Broderick to confirm she was too good for him, although he would be having a serious talk about his investigations. No way was she the lady portrayed in Broderick’s file. Jumpy, high-strung, a sensitive wreck—definitely traits of a victim. And she was the most beautiful woman he had ever known.
He took a sip from his glass and
Nodding past a lump in her throat, she turned and ran to her room. She closed the door and leaned against it. No big deal, it was only a job, right? Fired, and only a few days as a companion. She lifted her hand and rubbed the center of her chest. But, God. A raw sob broke from deep within her. When had losing a job hurt so much?
11
Life: It is about the gift not the package it comes in.
—Dennis P. Costea Jr.
The scent of death intermingled with exhaust fumes. The gush of blood through Luke’s lips slowed to a trickle, a signal the body he held had been bled dry. Blood went stale within a matter of seconds. He cradled the male’s neck and pulled away, closing his eyes as a wave of ecstasy rushed through him. He laid the tall, thin male next to his dead companion. Their glassy eyes, cold as the cobblestones beneath them, stared at the night sky blanketing the city. The moon shone bright, even over the lights of Rome.
Luke pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sides of his mouth. Crimson stained the pale yellow cotton. Tossing it on top of the shorter man’s barrel-like torso, he stood. Savannah’s attackers were dead.
He should have felt a greater sense of justice in their deaths and yet drinking them dry did nothing to alleviate the hollow ache in his stomach. A baser need within him hungered for more torture and destruction. Only the terror in their expressions as he’d exited the shadows gave him a small measure of satisfaction. Anger and waning control had made the attack messy, according to vampire standards. Both men wore puckered gashes along the side of their necks where his fangs had ripped through their skin. Neither man had made it difficult, their bodies paralyzed before they’d realized what struck them.
Luke left the bodies lying in the alleyway and returned to his apartment. Leaving them so visible was not a wise decision, but if he touched them again, he’d rip them to pieces. To do so would only confirm him a monster.
Savannah had not left her room, and he sighed with relief. Despite the satisfaction of his kills, his thoughts remained disturbed and unpredictable. She was not like others. Everything about her drove him crazy and yet he felt for her.
Reaching into the freezer, he removed a bottle of Grey Goose and poured himself a tumbler full of the clear liquid. He sat on a living room sofa and downed his drink, relishing the sting of ice-cold vodka as it numbed his lips, tongue and throat. He tipped the bottle and filled his glass again. Drowning himself in alcohol for the unforeseeable future held great appeal. After all, he hadn’t been tanked in decades.
“Cheers.” He lifted the glass in toast to the darkness. The comfort night brought was so enjoyable. Gone with his humanity were blurred images and the sentiment of being lost. Vampire eyes gave the night life...a whole new rhythm and familiarity. Walls seemed to breathe as they hugged his living room and kitchen. The surface of the coffee table gleamed, its curves encrusted in detailed designs. Like vampires themselves, these material luxuries were beautiful but without life.
Reclining, he rested his head on the sofa and pressed a remote control to open the blinds. Moonlight streamed in behind him, highlighting the rest of the living room furniture and the white marble tiles of the kitchen floor. The rag Savannah had used on her cut mouth lay on the granite island across the room. The faint scent of her blood tempted him. How had life gotten this complicated? Merely a kiss, some touching.
He did not need Broderick to confirm she was too good for him, although he would be having a serious talk about his investigations. No way was she the lady portrayed in Broderick’s file. Jumpy, high-strung, a sensitive wreck—definitely traits of a victim. And she was the most beautiful woman he had ever known.
He took a sip from his glass and
Similar Books
