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“Serge, why not? I haven’t had an actual relationship in years. I don’t know if this will go anywhere, but right now, it makes me happy. Don’t you want me to be happy?”
He growled. Actually growled, God help her. The puppy eyes vanished, replaced by the hyper-dilated look of an agitated vampire.
“Um, Serge?”
“He is human.”
“Yes, I noticed.”
“Unreliable, human men. He will hurt you, break your heart.”
“Well, good thing I’m a grown woman who knows what she’s doing,” she countered dryly. Though right at this moment, she wasn’t so sure about that last bit. This was a side of Serge she had not seen before. One that didn’t impress her. Maybe even frightened her a little.
Deep in the back of his eyes, the amber light of Dominique’s influence shimmered. Love is what he craved, like all re-sired vampires. Apparently, sharing wasn’t part of that impulse. “You are under my protection, golden one. Against all potential harm.”
She squeezed his forearm. “I know, my friend. But I’m also human and not a child. I know the risks. I’ve taken them before, and I’ll take them again. The rewards are worth it.”
Puppy dog eyes again.
“You and I will always be close, Serge. I saved your life. You constantly protect mine. You have shown me things I never knew existed. You are the magic in my life. Nothing will ever change that.” She rubbed her hand over his fuzzy forearm. “And if you want my blood tonight—with all the memories and scattered thoughts in my head—you can have it.”
The tiniest of smiles flashed on his wide mouth, the tiniest air of capitulation. At least for now. He patted her hand where it lay on his arm. “I thank you for the offer, but I will decline. I need more than a sip this fine night.”
“You’re going out?” A strange mixture of disappointment and relief rose in her.
He picked up her hand and pressed a chivalrous kiss to her knuckles before getting up. “Indeed, I must.” With a small, formal bow at the waist, he wished her a pleasant evening—and vanished.
“You too,” she said to the empty air. “You too, my friend.”
18
The Glitter of Ashes
Despitethehungergnawingat his entrails, it took more than an hour before he could bring himself to leave Cassidy. Kambyses once told him that before he was turned, Dominique’s aura had been an emerald shade of green, the same as the new life now rooting in Cassidy’s belly.
There was no doubt in Dominique’s mind—he would be a father.
The joy bubbling through him was tangible and lightened his step as he set out to hunt, camouflaged in jeans, sneakers and a windbreaker. A pair of sunglasses hid the happy preternatural light in his eyes. Nothing obscured his smile.
Reconnoitering for blood-drinker activity was a challenge. Distractions abounded in this vibrant city that surrounded him like a colossal living machine of glass and steel. Lights glared, shimmered, and flashed everywhere. Scattered sirens and the rhythmic rush of traffic assailed his ears, along with voices, heartbeats, and distant thrums. The pervasive smells of damp pavement and exhaust fumes filled the air, but couldn’t drown out the rich, tantalizing scent of the humanity milling all around him.
He headed south on Burrard Street for several blocks, deep into the downtown core, before realizing that he could never cover enough ground on foot. Not at the human speeds to which he would have to confine himself in such a highly surveilled environment. Blending in with the other pedestrians, he loitered at a busy intersection until the flow of traffic brought him what he sought.
The rider on the Ducati SuperSport waiting at the red light listened to his “request,” but shook their head slowly. When Dominique raised the helmet’s protective shield, the face of a young woman blinked back at him. He graced her with a disarming smile and his most compulsive voice. “You are thrilled to let me borrow your bike right now.”
She was. More or less. “Okay.”
Several passers-by regarded the exchange with some suspicion, but when the woman handed him the helmet with a smile and wished him “good luck,” they turned away again, busy with their own concerns.
The light had changed and traffic was starting up again as he swung onto the seat. “What is your number?” he asked, and she told him. He committed it to memory with every intention of returning her ride when he was done with it. “Merci, madame.”
The machine rumbled between his legs. Though nowhere as fast as his tricked-out BMW at home, it served its purpose and carried him along the bustling city streets in anonymity. Carried him right past the glittering glass tower on Georgia Street he had seen in Natalia’s mind as Adilla’s base of operation in the human world. He combed the surrounding streets at length, seeking any sign of blood-drinkers, but no telltale cold white auras appeared anywhere. If there were two hundred of them in this city, they were not on the streets tonight. Nor did they loiter in the cafés, restaurants and bars he visited in search of easy blood, of which there was an embarrassment of riches. In dark and intimate corners, he tapped vein after vein, mind after mind, savoring the unique flavors and rich memories of humanity from every corner of the world. Hours passed as he happily lost himself in the euphoria of so much exotic variety.
Dominique didn’t return to Adilla’s headquarters until three in the morning, which was only a little over two hours before sunrise. How did vampires this far north cope in the summer? More night disappeared by the day, and it was only May. Maybe the long winter nights made up for this inconvenience?
There still were no blood-drinkers on Georgia Street. Dominique wasn’t at a hundred percent, but felt far more confident in his abilities than earlier. At least confident enough to park the bike and try compelling himself past the guard stationed at the front door. If the human was already compelled to resist such a tactic, Dominique would retreat. To his surprise, the man didn’t hesitate to let him into the marble and chrome lobby.
Dominique found the stairwell and sped up to the thirty-first floor. There, only the hum of traffic in the streets below disturbed the silence. No movement anywhere. Not even a heartbeat. Yet he proceeded with care, tucking his sunglasses away in his jacket, letting his senses expand. The smell of new carpeting and electronics rode the recycled air.
