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When his tongue slid into my mouth, I welcomed it. He'd kissed me before, months ago, and back then, I'd felt mild enjoyment but no real emotion. This time, I was filled with such aching loneliness that I explored his mouth as thoroughly as he did mine. It didn't matter that he wasn't the man I loved. All that mattered was he was here.
After several moments, Maximus pulled away.
"I wish I didn't care about you so much."
"What?" I asked breathlessly. Vampires might not need oxygen, but I couldn't kiss like that without paying a price.
His eyes resembled the nearby traffic light with how green they were. "You're overstressed, overtired, and emotionally vulnerable. I won't take advantage of that, but if I cared less about you, Leila" - his voice deepened - "we'd be in the nearest alley with your legs wrapped around my waist right now."
Heat should have swelled at that explicit image. Instead, an icy bucket of shame washed over me. What was I doing? Despite my actions, I didn't want to start anything with Maximus. I wanted to find Marty's killer - who hopefully wouldn't turn out to be Vlad - murder that person, and then grieve for my best friend while putting my life back together. Getting involved with my ex's right-hand man wasn't anywhere on my list.
Maximus must have sensed the change because he let me go, his gaze turning from glowing emerald back to smoky gray.
"My point exactly," he said, dryness etching each word.
I crossed my arms over my chest, wishing I hadn't thrown my coat and shirt away. "Sorry. I didn't mean to, ah - "
"Save it," he interrupted crisply. Then his voice softened. "I understand. You needed to feel something good in the midst of everything crumbling around you, even if it was only for a moment. Humans don't have a monopoly on that, Leila. Vampires need it sometimes, too."
Then he picked up his discarded shirt and coat, giving me a single hard stare before he turned away.
"But right now, we need to get back to the car and then you need to find out who killed that bomb maker."
Chapter 11
It didn't take long to find the images I sought. Although nothing was more densely packed with memories than a person's bones, death was a stand-out event for everyone. Pity the images only played like clips from a film reel instead of me being inside Adrian's head when his murderer came calling.
"Who is it?" Adrian replied to the knock, as if he wasn't looking at the other side of the door through a security feed.
"Don't be boring, dearie" was the reply he received.
My brows went up. Adrian's killer was a woman. She didn't have an accent so much as a pretty lilt to her speech, but I doubted her nationality was American.
Adrian minimized the screen before he opened the door. The woman walked in, wearing dark glasses and a scarf around her head. To make matters worse, what I could see of her face seemed blurry. What a time for my psychic vision to need a tune-up.
"Make yourself at home," Adrian drawled, shutting the door behind her. "You thirsty?"
"Of course," she purred.
That tone would've screamed, Danger! to me, but Adrian didn't seem to notice. "What'll it be?" he asked.
"When we're done, your blood," she replied pleasantly.
He turned, startled, and then froze as she took her glasses off. Though her face was still blurred, the inhuman glow from her eyes came through clearly. I could almost see Adrian's willpower being hijacked under that hypnotic gaze. If he hadn't made a bomb that killed my best friend, I would've pitied him.
"You will erase all records of our dealings, from bank transactions to the camera feed at your door," the woman stated.
No! I thought, but of course that didn't change Adrian's actions. He went to his computer, booted up a bunch of files, and then methodically deleted them. He even erased secondary backups and ghost files, too, much to my dismay.
"It's done," he said woodenly once he was finished.
The woman took off her scarf. I caught a flash of rich, dark hair before everything blurred again.
"Time for that drink now, dearie."
Then she yanked Adrian's head to the side and bit down on his neck. When his death ended the vision, my frustration grew.
Not once had I gotten a good look at her face.
"Five foot four, about a hundred and twenty pounds, dark hair, and a slight accent that could be Welsh, English, Scottish, or Irish."
Maximus scowled. "That's all you got? A female vampire that might be from the UK?"
I knew how useless that information was. "I'll try linking to her again, see if it works better this time."
Despite my disgust, for a second time I rubbed the burnt piece that Maximus had yanked off of Adrian's body. Flashes of lights followed a rocking sensation, but when I concentrated harder, those images faded and I began to feel dizzy.
"Leila? Are you all right?"
"Fine. Just a little carsick," I muttered, trying again. After a few moments, I caught a glimpse of a woman wearing the same outfit as Adrian's killer, but that and the thick spill of walnut-colored hair was the only way I could be sure it was her. Her features were completely indistinguishable. The tiny blue room she was in rocked, which was odd. Then all my attention focused on what she was saying.
" . . . no, it wasn't too risky . . . I took care of it, dearie. He's dead, ending any chance this will be traced back to us."
From how she spoke, she must be on the phone. I stared at the blurred spot where her face would be, concentrating, but instead of getting better, it made the haziness worse.
"You're overreacting," she went on. "Even if there are suspicions, they won't lead anywhere. Whatever she might have been worth to him alive, she's less dangerous to us dead . . ."
I tried to focus on her more, but then my dizziness came back with a vengeance. My ears rang, too, and I felt something wet trickle out of them.
Maximus swore. Then the car swung so sharply that it fishtailed, adding crashing to my list of concerns. I couldn't seem to voice a complaint, though, and now the only thing I saw were large black spots. That can't be good, I thought, right before something hard smacked me in the forehead.
I had a few minutes of blissful nothingness until I became aware that I was choking on coppery-tasting liquid. I tried to spit it out, but a hand clamped over my mouth.
"Swallow, dammit!"
Left with no other choice, I did, grimacing as I recognized the taste. Vampire blood. Pureed pennies would've been less repugnant. I opened my eyes to find Maximus crouched over me. My seat belt was off and my seat was all the way reclined. At least he'd pulled over before utterly ignoring the road.
