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A check of the addresses showed Nosferatu’s Den was only two blocks away. Maybe she would have better luck there.
Derek sat at the bar, his gaze moving over the crowd, considering and rejecting one patron after another. Many were familiar to him. He had dined on a few. It never failed to amuse him the lengths humans would go to make themselves look like vampires, though he had rarely known a real vampire with skin as pale, or lips as red, as those of the wannabe bloodsuckers in attendance. The men were all dressed like Bela Lugosi: black suits; crisp white shirts; long black capes, some lined in red, some in white. A few even mimicked Lugosi’s accent. The women also wore black—mostly long flowing gowns with plunging necklines that displayed their cleavage, real or enhanced.
He had never understood the human fascination with vampires. His kind were, for the most part, merciless hunters of mankind. Some, like the members of his family, resisted the urge to kill their prey. Knowing how tempting it was to drain mortals dry, to drink their blood, their warmth, and their memories, he admired his family’s determination to take only enough to survive.
He was thinking of changing his hunting ground to Hollywood Boulevard when a bewitching scent tickled his nostrils, drawing his gaze toward the entrance and the slender woman who stood framed in the doorway. Like the others, she wore black, from her hooded cloak to her high-heeled boots. When she lowered her hood, he saw her hair was also black. Dyed, he thought, or perhaps a wig. Her eyes were a deep golden brown beneath thick lashes.
His gaze followed her progress into the club. He noted that she had attracted the attention of several other men, as well.
She sat at the other end of the bar, the slit in her skirt parting to reveal a slender calf clad in black silk.
In spite of the music and the low rumble of conversation, he heard her order a Bloody Mary, which she sipped slowly as she glanced at the club’s occupants. Was she looking for someone in particular, he wondered. Or just looking?
During the next half hour, he watched her reject the advances of one man after another, finally agreeing to dance with a tall, dark-skinned man with an Italian accent.
Derek stared at them through narrowed eyes as they swayed to the music. Seeing her in the arms of another man aroused an unexpected stab of jealousy. It was a new emotion for him and he examined it closely, wondering what had provoked it. He didn’t even know the woman.
Almost before he realized what he was doing, he crossed the floor to cut in on the woman and her partner.
Sheree offered a tentative smile to the man who took her partner’s place on the dance floor, felt a jolt, like an electric shock, sizzle through her as he gathered her into his arms.
Startled, she looked into his eyes—deep gray eyes that seemed to pierce her very soul.
“Good evening, lovely lady,” he murmured. “I hope you don’t mind my cutting in.”
“Uh . . . no. I guess not.”
He smiled, revealing even, white teeth. “Have you a name?”
“Of course,” she replied tartly. “Everyone has a name.”
“Care to share yours with me?”
She stared at him, unable to shake the feeling that it would be dangerous to tell this stranger who she was.
He lifted one brow, his expression amused. “It’s just a name.”
“Names have power.”
“Only if you’re a witch.” He cocked his head to the side. “Are you a witch?”
“Perhaps.”
“I think not.” His gaze moved over her from head to heel. “A dark angel, perhaps.”
Sheree smiled in spite of herself. “No, but you’re getting warmer.”
“Ah. A vampire?”
She batted her eyelashes at him. “Why, however did you guess?”
He laughed softly. “Just a hunch, darlin’. Let me see your fangs.”
“I’m sorry, but I left them home tonight. Can I see yours?”
“Maybe later. Can I buy you a drink?”
Sheree intended to say no but found herself accepting instead. She wasn’t sure if it was because he was without doubt the sexiest man she had ever seen, or if it was his smile, or if it was the way her heart had skipped a beat when he called her darlin’. She grinned inwardly, thinking all of the above.
When the music ended, Derek led her to a table, excused himself to get their drinks. She had asked for a Bloody Mary and he decided to make it two, though his drink of choice was something warmer. And redder.
She was swaying to the music, her eyes closed, when he returned.
For a moment, he found himself staring at her. What was it about this woman, he wondered, that enchanted him so? She was pretty. She smelled good. She had a winning smile and she laughed easily. But it was more than that. What more, he had no idea.
“Here you go,” he said, placing her drink on the table.
She opened her eyes and smiled as he sat across from her.
“A toast?” he suggested, lifting his glass.
“All right.” She lifted hers as well. “What shall we drink to?”
“New beginnings?”
“New beginnings,” she repeated, and touched her glass to his.
Her scent tantalized him, as did the steady beat of her heart, the sight of the pulse throbbing in the hollow of her slender throat. He clenched his hands when his fangs brushed his tongue. Damn. He needed to get away from her, needed to feed now, before he did something reckless.
“Will you be here tomorrow night?” he asked, his voice tight.
“Are you leaving?”
He forced a note of humor into his voice. “It’s feeding time.”
“Oh, of course,” she replied, playing along.
“Tomorrow night.” He had intended to return to his own home in Sacramento sometime tomorrow, but that could wait a few days. Pushing away from the table, he brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “Ten o’clock.”
Before she could answer, he was moving toward the exit.
Sheree stared after him, then shook her head. She was either drunk or seeing things, but she could have sworn she’d seen a faint red glow in his eyes.
Chapter Three
Mara sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace, reminiscing about the past. She told herself she wasn’t waiting up for Derek. He was a grown man. He no longer needed her to look out for him, nor would he appreciate it. But she waited anyway.
It was an hour before dawn when he entered the house. He scowled when he saw her.
“Dammit,” he hissed. “I’m a big boy now. I don’t need my mother waiting up for me.”
