Feral Passion Read online

  That didn’t stop him from pursuing her down the hall. He lounged in the mirrored hallway while she waited for the elevator.

  “Ah, come on, baby,” he actually said. “I thought we had a thing.”

  “I’m not your baby.” She drew her gun. “And we didn’t have a thing.”

  At the sight of the gun, Vlad eyes had widened. “Sorry,” he’d muttered. And slunk back into his velvet-lined penthouse.

  Two weeks of dating and Xandra had come up empty handed. Jeremy was getting impatient.

  She turned her attention back to Alix. “No one interesting yet. But I’m meeting someone new tonight.” She peered into the shadows that collected in the corners despite the bright lights on the dance floor. To her dismay, a tall man in a long velvet cape strode toward her. A cape, for God’s sake! She resigned herself to hours of inane conversation. Didn’t vampires ever shop anywhere normal?

  Alix whistled in appreciation as the caped vamp approached. He was handsome—even Xandra had to admit that. Hair so dark it glistened with a blue sheen was brushed back from his high forehead. He had eyes as black as a moonless night, a straight nose and a rugged jaw. But it was his mouth that drew her attention. Full lips curled up at the corners making him look like he was perpetually smiling.

  Xandra forced her mind back to business. Nothing about this vampire mattered except for the information he might be able to give her. Alix was still staring at him like a love-struck schoolgirl. Xandra cleared her throat. Her friend excused herself, leaving Xandra with Mr. Vamp in Cape. George, she corrected herself. Despite the affectation of the velvet cape and his movie-star looks, Mr. Vamp in Cape’s parents had apparently given him the improbable name of George.

  “Lisa,” he said, using the name she’d made up for her Internet-dating profile. He bowed with great flourish over her outstretched hand. His grip was firm, his skin cool. His lips caressed her skin, as if both worshiping and tasting her. She could have sworn she felt the scrape of his teeth.

  What a letch. She pulled her hand gently away. “George,” she said with as much warmth as she could muster.

  “Shall we?” He held out his arm. Beneath the cape he wore a tuxedo. If she couldn’t wrangle some information out of good old George here, it promised to be a very boring night.

  George, it turned out, didn’t even make a pretense of eating. When she realized he wasn’t going to be dining with her, she suggested they go for cocktails instead. But George insisted on buying her dinner. Dinner he’d promised, he said. He liked a woman with an appetite. He sipped wine suggestively while Xandra a.k.a. Lisa laid waste to a steak. His eyes followed every movement of her fork as she bit and chewed. Xandra swallowed a laugh with a mouthful of steak and a gulp of Merlot. Along with their taste in clothes, most vampires needed to work on their pick up lines. Perhaps that had worked in the sixteen hundreds, she thought. But she had to admit it was refreshing to find a man who didn’t prefer his women stick-thin.

  By the time the waiter cleared away the dinner dishes and presented Xandra with the dessert menu, she’d determined that poor George had nothing to tell her. He owned a shipping business, had for a couple of hundred years under various aliases. Other than that, his business dealings appeared to be above board. He paid his employees and his taxes. He lived well and he was looking for a woman to share it with. For all eternity.

  Hiding her face behind the dessert menu, Xandra sighed. For a dead guy he seemed pretty decent. The right woman might actually be attracted to someone as doting and boring as George. But she wasn’t the right woman. And she wasn’t looking for a man.

  It was past midnight, too late to try to arrange another date for the night. Xandra decided she might as well enjoy her dessert. She rarely indulged in the cream-rich pastries the restaurant offered. But after the blood she’d lost during her run-in with the feral vamps, her body needed energy. So she’d eat her chocolate mousse, wash it down with a latte and let poor George down as easily as she could. Maybe Alix would like him. Her friend certainly seemed interested enough.

  By three a.m. she’d divested herself of a broken-hearted George and decided to call it a night. It had started raining while she’d been inside. The night just couldn’t get better, she thought, walking to the fleet car she’d borrowed from work. The subcompact seemed too small for her five-foot-ten-inch frame. She wished she’d been able to bring her bright yellow Hummer, but the vehicle was simply too conspicuous. Should have gone for the gunmetal gray version. She doubted that would help. The truck looked conspicuous no matter what color. Oh well, she’d had a nice dinner and, for all the affectation with the cape, George was a nice guy. The night could have been a lot worse.

  Xandra thumbed the release on the remote and opened the car door. Folding herself into the low seat, she caught a glimpse of gold out of her rearview mirror.

  One second he was halfway down the street behind her, a fleeting shimmer of golden hair and tawny eyes. In the next instant he was leaning nonchalantly against her car. Xandra jumped, then cursed herself for letting him know he’d scared her. No one could move that quickly—no one human, anyway. She studied her uninvited guest. Not even the feral vampires she’d encountered in the alley possessed his swiftness. It took her a moment to recognize him as the man from the alleyway the night she’d been injured.

  Curly blond hair brushed his shoulders. It glistened in the rain. His brown leather jacket looked well worn. Tawny eyebrows framed amber eyes nearly the same shade as his hair. The stubble on his chin shadowed the outline of a beard. She couldn’t tell if he’d just forgotten to shave or if he wore that close-cropped beard as a fashion statement. He nodded at her through the car window. The streetlight caught a tiny diamond in his left ear. A thin gold chain sporting some kind of medallion glittered between the neck of his jacket and the T-shirt beneath. He looked like a golden mirage that had suddenly materialized out of the darkness. And he was waiting for her to roll down the window.

  She knew better than to open her window to specters that appeared out of nowhere.

  Putting the car into gear, she stomped on the gas pedal. The little car surged forward, throwing the golden man off balance. With a curse, he whirled away from the vehicle. She glanced in the rearview mirror to see him staring after her as the car sped away.

  She drove around the quiet downtown to make sure he hadn’t tailed her home. When she’d seen no sign of being followed for over an hour and her eyelids were threatening to close of their own volition, she pulled into the driveway of her condo.

  The nondescript building occupied what had been a turn-of-the-century industrial park. Old factories had been converted into apartments and townhouses. Xandra owned a tiny townhouse with a loft bedroom, a roof deck and no lawn to mow. It suited her just fine, down to its utilitarian interior. She pulled the fleet car into a visitor parking spot and turned off the engine. Casting one last glance at the road beyond her building’s property, she prepared to get out of the car.

  Only to find the blond man standing in front of her vehicle.

  Arms crossed, he cocked one eyebrow and waited for her to make a move.

  Mirroring his casual posture, she stared back at him while her hand strayed to where her purse lay wedged between the seats. She’d tucked a gun loaded with wooden bullets into her satin evening purse—just in case. Poor George would probably have fainted if he’d known. She reached gingerly inside, trying not to jingle the coins as she groped for the gun and thumbed the safety off. Even in the darkness, his eyes followed her movements. Definitely not human.

  And he knew where she lived.

  He raised his hands to show he was unarmed, though she suspected an entire array of weapons lay concealed beneath that leather jacket. He walked around the front of the car to the driver’s side and rapped on the window. Xandra put her purse on her lap, moving the gun closer, just in case. She rolled down the window.

  “Ms. Wheeler.” His smooth voice concealed a hint of an accent. European maybe. A man could s
educe a woman with a voice like that. She caught the tang of his sandalwood soap mixed with the smell of damp leather. He held her in the thrall of those amber eyes.

  To her dismay, her traitorous body tightened with interest. What two weeks of dating vampires hadn’t done for her, this one alluring stranger had accomplished with his golden voice and his penetrating stare.

  Damn, he made an attractive package. Which also made him dangerous. She wasn’t a rookie. She held the top position in her field. She knew better than to be swayed by strangers who appeared out of nowhere on dark roads.

  “Obviously you know who I am,” she snapped, taking the offensive. Sexy voice or not, the man was stalking her. “You did follow me home.” She launched her own imposing glance at him. “And you are?”

  “Dante,” he said, as if that told her everything.

  “You got a last name, Dante?”

  He smiled, showing even white teeth nested in the darkness of that almost-beard. “Maybe.”

  “That your real name, Dante?”

  The smile widened. A woman could get lost in a smile that inviting. But she was a vampire hunter. And whoever, whatever Mr. Auspicious Name was, she wasn’t interested.

  “Matter of fact, it is.”

  She shook her head. “What were your parents thinking?”

  That caught him off guard. For a moment anger crossed his handsome face. Then he laughed. “It should be obvious what they were thinking.”

  His openness charmed her despite her resolve not to be taken in. She had to admit, the man was good. Under other circumstances she’d definitely be interested. Why couldn’t he have been one of the vampires she’d been forced to date? He’d have been far more to her liking than either Vlad or the unfortunate George. But Dante knew where she lived and she couldn’t allow herself to be interested.

  Xandra forced a yawn. “Well, this is all very interesting. Always nice to meet a stalker in the wee hours of the morning, but it’s nearly dawn and I want to go to bed sometime tonight, so why don’t you tell me if there’s a point to your unwelcome visit.”

  His eyebrows drew together. “You have taken an unwelcome interest in a number of prominent members of a certain…society. I’m wondering if there’s a point to that.”

  Damn. Despite her attempts to cover her tracks, she’d been discovered. Jeremy would be furious. He would take her off the case, she thought with a pang of worry. She didn’t want to date vampires, but she sure didn’t want to be sidelined.

  And since Dante knew her real name, there was no point in hiding what she’d been up to. Damned if she’d admit it, though. Not until she knew what he was really about.

  “My personal preferences aren’t illegal.”

  “Technically not,” he conceded.

  “And they’re no one’s business.” She injected a healthy dose of attitude into the statement.

  “Really?”

  “Really,” she insisted.

  “Well, I’m afraid you’re mistaken about that, Ms. Wheeler.” He looked pointedly at the purse in her lap as if he knew for certain it contained a gun. “It is my business.”

  “And what makes it your concern?” she asked as her hand strayed to her open purse. If he could move with supersonic speed, would she have time to use the gun?

  Instead of going for a concealed weapon, Dante held out a worn leather wallet. As he flipped it open, a shield gleamed.

  Xandra squinted to read the ID badge beneath it. Dante, it said. No last name. Beneath that it also read, Metropolitan Police, Vampire Liaison Officer.

  Chapter Two

  Xandra studied the golden man. Dante Nolastname didn’t look like a vampire. He certainly didn’t dress like a vampire. Still, something in the glitter of those amber eyes sure wasn’t human. “Vampire liaison officer.”

  Not all liaison officers were vamps. Few vampires, it turned out, wanted to be police officers. After centuries of being hunted and living on the fringes of society, they mistrusted human lawmakers. Many of them disliked working in such close contact with humans. Vampire or not, something about Dante Nolastname raised the little hairs on the back of her neck.

  “That’s right, Ms. Wheeler. Vampire liaison officer.” He leaned against her car, deliberately violating her private space. The spicy scent of his sandalwood soap hung heavily in the humid air. The guy was gorgeous. He even smelled good. He practically oozed sex appeal. “So, you see, it is my business. And I’d like you to stay out of it.”

  His calm assurance that she would instantly obey him irked her. It didn’t matter if he was good looking. She didn’t like blonds, she reminded herself. She didn’t find Dante Nolastname sexy at all—he was insufferably arrogant.

  Xandra opened the car door and stood, throwing him momentarily off balance. “Well,” she said with the inflection she reserved for training new recruits. She’d spent her life working among men and wasn’t easily intimidated. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” At his incredulous look, she nearly laughed. At over six feet he stood taller than her, but she leveled the difference in their heights with a withering look. “Because, you see, I too have my orders.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Oh, I know all about your orders.”

  Did he now? That was interesting. Most law-abiding citizens weren’t aware of the secret agency she worked for. The police, on the other hand, operated on a need-to-know basis. Why did Dante need to know?

  “I very much doubt that. And in any case, you aren’t my supervisor, so I won’t be discussing them with you.”

  He stared back at her calmly, but she could tell he was angry. The moisture-laden air practically sizzled with it. “Now that is unfortunate, Ms. Wheeler. I was hoping we could resolve this without going through official channels.”

  His repeated use of her name annoyed her. It was a cheap tactic, a reminder that he knew a great deal about her while she knew nothing about him. Well, that would change. Even if he was born in the fifteenth century, there had to be someone who knew something about Vampire Liaison Officer Dante. She intended to find out what it was.

  “You thought wrong. And I don’t take orders from you.” If the police force had a reason to alter her assignment, they could make their request through the proper channels. The thought of Dante Nolastname butting heads with Jeremy brought a smirk to her face.

  “Now that’s most unfortunate.” He gave her another of those hard stares, as if he could somehow impose his will upon her own. Then he merely nodded and stepped back.

  “Good night, Dante.” Reaching into her purse, Xandra took out her keys and strode toward the building.

  Once inside, she stood at the kitchen window of her darkened townhouse and watched him watching her. For several minutes they stood frozen in that tableau. A light rain began again, yet still he stood there. Then with a shrug, he turned and strolled down the driveway toward the street, as if he had all the time in the world and it wasn’t the middle of the night.

  Still sitting in the dark, Xandra booted up her computer and logged into the department’s database. The Liaison Office was a legitimate police department, but she found no files on an officer named Dante. Next, she tried the Internet and still her search turned up nothing. She even tried a few confidential sources she shouldn’t have passwords for, but Dante, if that really was his name, had left no evidence of his existence.

  A glance at the illuminated clock made her groan. She shut down the computer and headed for the staircase that led to her loft bedroom. Even as she lay in the darkness, exhaustion tugging at every muscle, the memory of Dante’s amber eyes haunted her.

  ***

  Xandra huddled beneath the covers, but that didn’t stop the horrible sounds from reaching her. She slid deeper beneath the thick quilt, desperately trying to make herself as small and insubstantial as possible, but could not block out what was happening in the other room.

  She always stayed hidden when her mother entertained clients in the living room. Even venturing down the hall to use the bath
room was forbidden. She holed up in her bedroom and read books by flashlight. She learned not drink liquids in the evening. But tonight a terrible feeling of foreboding lingered over the entire apartment.

  Mother had worked far later than usual. The hot, humid weather had finally given way to a severe thunderstorm that had crashed overhead for hours. Thunderstorms didn’t frighten her, but this one was different. The entire world had seemed to pause as dark green clouds gathered on the horizon. The air had crackled with anticipation. Then the storm began with a fury.

  Mother had arrived with the storm. Her footsteps came up the stairs and lingered on the landing while she fumbled for her keys—but she didn’t come to Xandra’s room to offer a goodnight kiss. That meant clients were coming. With a sigh, Xandra reached for her book and flashlight.

  She should have disobeyed, she thought. She never should have stayed in her room.

  She would hate herself for that forever.

  Years later counselors would tell her that there was nothing she could have done. That she was just a child and no match for a monster—that trying to intervene would only have cost her her own life. That didn’t ease the guilt that had haunted her.

  It didn’t stop the dreams.

  Memory and dream fused and shifted. Xandra turned over in her sleep and protested, but in the way of dreams, she was dragged along against her will.

  She stood before a door in a dark hallway. Something lurked beyond that iron-hinged door, she knew that for certain. Something she didn’t want to face. Still, she put her hand on the iron handle. The door swung open easily, in spite of its size. She stepped into a room lit with golden candlelight. Heavy black drapes covered all four of the outer walls, hiding the windows, if in fact there were any. Gauzy black sheers hung from the ceiling, marking off rooms within the cavernous space.

  Xandra pushed the gauzy material aside and stepped into what she assumed was a living room. Black velvet cushions littered the floor in a haphazard seating arrangement. A silver candelabra covered in red wax sat on a low table. No television, no electronics of any kind. No sound except for the low rush of the waves against the shore somewhere and the periodic splash of wax against the table. She shoved more gauze aside and stepped into yet another room. The sheer drapery blew gently in the breeze from the air conditioner.