When It Comes (Vampire Assassin League Book 31) by Jackie Ivie Page B

even make a man who is set in his ways see beyond black and white and realize there are shades of gray, too. And a lot of color.”
    “Uh...” 
    Mitch didn’t know what to answer, so he stopped.
    “But love is a fickle thing. It doesn’t come to everyone. You have to be extremely lucky. And when it comes, sometimes it feels like a ton of bricks just hit, making it hard to even breathe. Does anything like that sound familiar to you?”
    “Um...”
    “A vampire knows what love is, Detective. And when it happens. It’s instantaneous. Finding the one being that is their mate gives them back all the emotions and sensations that undeath took away. It’s the mates I cannot fathom. Sometimes they are instantly hooked. Occasionally they are complete knot-heads. Like you. So. I will ask again. Do you love her?”
    “I don’t know. Okay?”
    Akron made a sound that might have been choked-back laughter. “Ah. Good.”
    “Good? Are you for real? It’s absolute hell.”
    This time the guy did laugh. “Better and better. About that job...”
    “Let me think about it,” Mitch replied.
    “I don’t think you understand, Detective Hartnett. You have moments of this existence left to you. There is a lot of natural gas building up in the vicinity. You left your oven on last night, but failed to engage the pilot light. The resultant gas vented into the condominium behind this one.”
    “Oh. No way.”
    “I believe all it will take right now...is a little spark. The explosion will be inescapable. Annihilate several of these units.”  The man whirled. The cloak swirled around his frame before it settled. He looked a lot larger. And a hell of a lot more dangerous. “So. Detective. Is it your time to die, or not?”
    And then somebody in the complex clicked on a stove burner.
    ~ ~ ~
    Adelaide awakened with a gasp of anticipation. But then it turned into a sigh of resignation. And then such depression she barely avoided tears. She was atop her red sofa. The bag that had once swelled with ill-gotten gains was clutched in her arms. She sat. Pushed her hair out of her face. Looked around. She told herself not to return to Mitchell again. She would look beyond desperate. But her entire form felt like it was being pulled in his direction.
    Mating was such sweetness! But it also had a vicious edge. Nobody had told her that part.
    She should dress. She had entire rooms devoted to fashion. All kinds of ensembles. Most were figure-enhancing corsets designed to be worn above skirts fashioned from luxurious fabrics. She didn’t want to wear one of those. She might never wear them again. She started pushing hanger after hanger to one side, discarding outfit after outfit. Surely, somewhere in here she had to have a spinster dress. Something in a dark shade. Black. Or navy. Or even a mauve tone. She wanted one that had a high-neck. Didn’t skim her figure. One that would match how depressed and alone she felt.
    She failed. She hadn’t purchased anything like that. A pick-pocket knew what their assets were. She had an eye-catching figure. She’d used it to divert attention more than once. She finally settled on a corset in a dove gray shade. It had rose-colored straps and laces. The skirt that went with it was the same shade of gray with stripes of rose color running through it.
    She told herself she wasn’t dressing for Mitch. She wasn’t willing to go to him again. But knew it was a lie. She couldn’t stay away. She loved him. He was her mate. The attraction was too magnetic.
    She pulled a pair of woven silk stockings from a drawer. Sat on a stool in order to pull them on. Tied the ribbons above her knees to keep them up. Adjusted the bows.
    “Where the hell are we?”
    A vague masculine whisper echoed from somewhere in the tunnels about her home. It caught her ear. It had sounded like Mitchell. But that wasn’t far-fetched. She had his voice memorized. She saw him every time she closed her eyes, and heard him anytime she let her