Dark Needs at Night's Edge by Kresley Cole Page B

take for him to actually rattle her unwavering attraction. “Why would you care if they saw me naked?”
    He looked away and muttered, “I wish I knew.”
    Néomi stifled a smile. He was becoming as attracted to her as she was to him.
    â€œWhat were you doing outside the house earlier?” He sounded accusatory.
    â€œHow did you know I was outside?”
    â€œDidn’t hear you all day.”
    She frowned. “Do you ever sleep?”
    â€œNot if I can help it.”
    Néomi had noticed that he only slept about three or four hours in a twenty-four hour period. “And you never sleep at regular intervals. I can’t see a pattern.”
    â€œThen no one else can either,” he said, but before she could question his words, he said, “Now, tell me what you were doing.”
    â€œIf you must know—I was studying tadpoles. I’ve decided to determine how long it takes their legs to grow. To the minute.”
    â€œTadpoles. Why would you do this?”
    â€œGive me an alternative, Conrad. What should I do?”
    He was clearly at a loss.
    â€œThe one newspaper I was able to snare on the drive has been read. The house is empty of insatiable newlyweds or teenage thrill seekers with spray-paint cans, so I’ve no one to ogle or to frighten away. But I’m here now, so what did you want?”
    Seeming not to know what to say for several moments, he opened and closed his mouth twice.
    â€œNothing?” she asked airily, waving him away. “Very well, have a good—”
    â€œStay!” he bit out. “I want you to stay.”
    â€œWhy? Because you find me more stimulating than watching the paint peeling above the bed?”
    He shook his head. “Want to talk to you.”
    With her chin up, she nonchalantly crossed to the window seat and floated atop it. “Perhaps I’ll stay if you agree to answer some of my questions.”
    â€œLike what?”
    â€œI overhear your brothers talking, but a lot of times, I have no idea what they mean. You could explain some things.”
    As though put out, he gave a short nod.
    â€œWhat do they mean about your memories?”
    â€œIf a vampire takes blood straight from the vein, it’s live, laden with a lifetime of memories. The memories have accumulated, until I can’t control them. I can’t tell them from my own.”
    â€œEvery night Murdoch returns with more information about you. He said you have all kinds of people who want you dead.”
    â€œTrue.”
    â€œHe also said he suspects you played with your victims before you killed them.”
    â€œI did only what I was paid to do.”
    â€œDid you get paid to behead people while you drank them to death?”
    He narrowed his eyes. “Drinking another gives you his memories. Drinking another as you kill him also gives you much of his strength, even some of his mystickal abilities. And beheading is one of the only ways to slay an immortal.”
    â€œHave you killed women and children before? Or humans?”
    â€œWhy would I bother to?” He seemed genuinely perplexed.
    Somewhat reassured by his answer, she asked, “How did you become a vampire?”
    His face was drawn with anger. “Nikolai decided to drip his tainted blood down my throat just before I died.”
    â€œHe didn’t have to bite you?”
    â€œThat’s only in the movies,” Conrad said. “Blood is the agent of the transformation, and death is the catalyst. It’s this way for any species to be turned in the Lore.”
    â€œIt’s that easy to become a vampire?”
    â€œEasy? It doesn’t always work. And if it doesn’t, you die.”
    â€œWho did it to them?”
    â€œKristoff, a natural-born vampire—and someone I have no intention of speaking about. Ask something else.”
    â€œVery well. Can you still eat food?”
    â€œYes, but I have as much interest in eating food as you