‘Is Tamara in?’ he asked.
A glimmer of disappointment flashed behind her eyes. ‘Is she expecting you?’
‘Tell her Kane’s here.’
Her eyes flared. Seemingly she recognised his name. She reached for the phone, pressing her lips together as it rang. ‘Kane to see you.’ Placing the phone back in its cradle, she shyly looked down at the talisman she was polishing. She rubbed it even harder before holding it up, closing one eye with feigned expertise to examine if it was a job well done.
‘Do you even know what that is?’ he asked.
She looked flustered, but shrugged in feigned nonchalance.
He rested both arms on the counter and he leaned forward a little. ‘You got a name?’
‘Bea,’ she said, the increase in her breathing subtle but noticeable.
‘Have you got a boyfriend, Bea?’
Her tongue darted out to swiftly lick her bottom lip, her eyes wide as she placed the talisman down next to a long line. She picked up another. ‘No.’ She glanced back across at him, struggling to suppress a smile. She was trying to be cool. It was almost cute.
‘Keep practising rubbing like that and you might get yourself one,’ he said, capturing and holding her gaze.
Tamara emerged through the bead curtain, her long velvet dress, the one she wore for the tourists, clinging to every curve. She’d always looked better in leather and lace, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. She smiled, her full rouged lips as tempting as they always were, her kohl-lined bright-blue eyes igniting the minute she saw him. She bent over the counter, her heavy breasts, just about contained by the low fabric, having little to help their cause. ‘Hey, handsome.’
He smiled. ‘I got your message.’
She stood up and cocked her head towards the beads.
He stepped around the side of the desk, took the two steps up, boots clumping against wood as he followed her through into the musty old room, out into the space that she reserved for her more private clientele.
The back room was dim, the thick scent of herbs and incense exacerbating the density of the large but cluttered room. Heavy drapes and tapestries dominated the walls, adding to the claustrophobia of the enclosure.
‘Where did you find the goth?’
Tamara smiled. ‘Where I always find them,’ she said, pouring liquid into two glasses.
‘Is she a feeder?’
‘Not that I know of. Not yet anyway. She won’t take much breaking in, though, from the way she was looking at you.’ She handed him the drink, her eyes glinting with mischief. ‘But what’s wrong with me? My witch blood not good enough for you tonight?’
He took a mouthful. ‘I’m after something purer. I need the sustenance. No offence.’
‘Some taken.’ She rubbed the rim of her glass against her lips as she stepped up to him. ‘Then maybe something else?’ She ran her hand down his chest, nails scraping against the cotton of his shirt before unfastening two of the buttons, sliding her hand inside before lifting her thick, false eyelashes to meet his gaze. ‘It’s been a while. How about you remind me what I’m missing?’
‘As if I’d be that cruel.’
She laughed seductively. ‘You know that’s how I like you.’ She opened his shirt a little, her eyes flaring in admiration. ‘Surely you’re not so short of time you can’t spare me fifteen minutes to work some of that magic of yours? Especially not after what I’ve managed to do.’
‘You have got it then?’
‘Of course. After moving heaven and earth and pulling in more than a few favours these past few months.’ She searched his gaze. ‘You really do owe me big time for this,’ she said, slipping her hand down to his behind.
He caught her hand and pulled her closer. ‘How about you show it to me first,’ he said, his lips hovering tauntingly over hers.
She smiled, her eyes flashing with arousal, before she stepped away from him.
He knocked back the rest of his drink as he glanced around the room. He stepped up to the round table to lift the crystal ball, tossing it in his hand before placing it back on the stand with an exhale of amusement.
Tamara was back within a few minutes, a cloth-wrapped object clutched in her hands. She knelt at the low coffee table and placed the item in the centre. Kane lowered to his knees opposite her as she carefully unwrapped the cloth. She met his gaze, the excitement sparkling in hers as she slid the hand-sized book towards him. It looked like something that had been shoved to the back of a shelf in a junk shop. Its dull leather cover was smudged and worn, the platinum lock that bound it buckled and tarnished.
But he knew better than anyone that appearances could be deceptive. ‘It certainly doesn’t look much.’
‘That’s the whole point. Nothing with that much power ever does.’
He held it up to examine it and thumbed the lock.
‘You don’t unlock it until the time,’ she said, sliding him the tiny key. ‘And once it’s closed, you don’t open it again. Read anything contained within and it will tarnish the soul, preventing any return to its host. If you want it returned.’ She looked at him hesitantly. ‘That’s serious stuff there.’
He wrapped it back in the cloth.
‘So whose soul is it for?’ she asked. ‘More to the point, what did they do to deserve this?’
‘That’s two too many questions, Tam,’ he said, standing.
‘You can’t blame a woman for being curious.’ Tamara mirrored him expectantly. ‘You do know you need things to extract the soul. Things I can’t get you.’
‘All under control,’ he said, taking the money from his coat and handing her the wad of notes.
She took it, but didn’t check it. She licked her lower lip and met his gaze. ‘So how about a thank you?’
‘Thank you.’ He kissed her lightly on the lips before clipping her chin with his thumb as he stepped past her, back towards the storefront.
‘That’s it? Where you going?’
‘I told you. I’m hungry.’
‘But you said…’
‘I said what?’
She folded her arms. ‘You’re a bastard, Kane Malloy, you know that?’
He smiled as he turned to face her. ‘I thought you said you liked me cruel.’
She shook her head, pressed her lips together, but couldn’t help but smile back. ‘I’ll have you next time.’
‘Whatever keeps those hopes alive, Tam.’
He stepped back through the beads and glanced across at Bea tapping her pen against a pile of paper. She sat upright as he descended the steps, her eyes sparkling with ready compliance.
Easy pickings. As easy as it came. And way too desperate.
Bastard, yes. But not that much of a bastard.
She was too fragile for sex with any vampire, let alone him. Too needy. Too vulnerable. Too susceptible. She had vampire victim stamped all over her. It was only a matter of time before she was found in some alley or in one of the many derelict houses somewhere, her delicate, non-consenting flesh ravaged by fervent bites.
He fought the images that played in front of his mind like disassociated pieces of film – Arana’s torn and defiled delicate body lying limp and bloodied on the cold concrete of the abandoned warehouse floor. His throat tightened along with his chest.
And this girl – itching to be a conquest. Clueless of consequence. Clueless of what lay behind the eyes she was staring into.
Her ignorance plunged deep into him and twisted a little, the barbs catching, preventing him from walking away. And that pulse beneath her pale flesh was already far too rapid to ignore.
He was probably about to do her the biggest favour of her young life.
He crossed the room to the nearest glass chest and relaxed back against it, his arms casually braced on the cold surface. He looked directly across at her in the silence.
Her eyes flared, part in arousal, part in shock. Clearly she got the hint. She glanced anxiously over her shoulder towards Tamara’s room then returne
d her full attention to him.
He offered her a hint of a smile to reassure her she’d read the situation right.
She pushed back her chair and stood with an edge of wariness that would be her saving grace. Arrogance on top of ignorance was something he’d never been able to tolerate, and his bite technique had demonstrated that to plenty of first-time donors.
She came to a standstill a foot away from him, clearly having got to him sooner than she’d intended, from the awkwardness of her stance. She smiled. Didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands. Resolved to rest them on her slender hips.
He let her stand there as the seconds ticked by, keeping her in the painful position of not knowing whether to make the first move.
‘I’ve heard of you,’ she said.
‘Have you now?’
She nodded. ‘You and a vampire called Caleb. Do you know him?’
‘Of him.’
Her eyes narrowed in confusion. ‘What?’
‘Never mind.’ He leaned forward to grab her by the small of the back, yanking her towards him.
She caught her breath and smiled. ‘I’ve always wanted to meet you.’
‘And why’s that?’
‘You’re a legend around here.’ Her gaze lingered on his mouth and she subtly licked her lips and looked back into his eyes, but clearly found it too intimidating to sustain. ‘Can I touch your fangs?’
‘They’re called incisors.’
She shrugged. ‘Can I touch them?’
He curled his upper lip slightly so she could touch the small section of exposed incisor.
Her eyes gleamed. She smiled, gasped and physically trembled as her forefinger made contact with enamel. ‘Wow. That’s so hot.’ She withdrew her hand again. ‘I mean, sexy.’
‘I’m glad you think so. Because I need to use them. On you.’
She snapped back a breath, her wide eyes wavering with uncertainty. ‘Sure. Yeah, I understand. You need to feed, right?’
‘Right.’
She nodded as she scraped her hair back from her neck. Her hand was still trembling. ‘I’ve never been bit. But I’ve had piercings and stuff.’ She let out a short, curt, nervous giggle. ‘I liked it. I liked the feeling.’
‘You think a bite is like a piercing?’
‘That’s what my friends say.’
‘Then your friends have clearly never been bit.’
Her startled gaze met his.
He had her face-first over the counter a split second later, her arm wrenched up her back.
He removed his penknife from his back pocket, flicked it open and laid it on the glass counter so she could see it.
Her eyes widened again, her panting uncontained. ‘What the fuck is that for?’
‘Dessert,’ he whispered in her ear.
She immediately struggled and squirmed, trying to buck beneath him until he wrenched her arm up a little further. She learned quickly to still, the first tear trickling from the corner of her eye. ‘Don’t hurt me,’ she whimpered.
‘I’m a vampire,’ he said, scraping her hair back from her neck before he ripped her loose black T-shirt down over her shoulder. ‘Not your boyfriend. What do you think I’m going to do?’
He looked down at her trembling lips before cupping her mouth with his hand. She’d scream on the first bite, he just knew it.
Sure enough she did – silently against the palm of his hand as he bit deep into the base of her neck with no anaesthetic, no warning.
He felt her shudder as he drank hard and fast, her fragile body shaking, quickly weakening. He bit into her again and again until her sobbing ceased, her body fast becoming lax.
When he’d fed enough, he reached for the knife. The blade slid easily through the pliable flesh of her neck, shoulder, and collarbone – a few superficial engravings just to remind her of the moment – not with any depth to scar her permanently, but probably enough to save her life if she used them for their real purpose: to make her think twice about tempting her kind again. He licked away the trickles of blood seeping from the shallow wounds before letting her go.
She had no idea how lightly he was letting her off.
She collapsed to the floor against the counter, tears damp on her cheeks, her make-up smudged around her glazed eyes so she looked like some badly painted rag doll.
He licked his knife clean and snapped it shut. He slid it back in his pocket just as he looked up to see Tamara watching him from the counter. Arms folded, there was no shock in her eyes but her raised eyebrows told him she wasn’t impressed with the pending aftermath.
‘I think you’ll need yourself a new assistant,’ he said.
‘No kidding,’ she said after him as he strolled back through the store, the bell tinkling as the door closed behind him.
CHAPTER NINE
Caitlin sat upright as she heard the rumble of an engine beyond the door. The grate of metal against metal told her he was back. Or someone was. A car door slammed. Then there was silence again. The bolts were slid across, the door unlocked.
Her heart leapt as Kane stepped across the threshold. To her relief, he was alone. He closed the door, left his keys in the keyhole, but didn’t lock it. He hung up his jacket and placed the bag he was carrying onto the kitchen counter, a bag she recognised as hers. He placed the paper bag he’d also been carrying down beside it, before heading towards her.
She braced herself as he reached into his jeans pocket, taking out the key. He slid it into the lock with calm precision, eyes meeting intimately with hers for a moment. She lowered her gaze from the intimacy again, irritated at the pang in her chest.
He unfastened the cuff and Caitlin clenched her wrist as she watched him turn and stroll back across the room.
‘I’ve brought you something to eat,’ he said. ‘And there are a few things in your bag that I picked up from your place earlier. Feel free to freshen up.’
He stepped back out through the door, closing and locking it behind him.
She listened out for the sound of the car engine again, but there was nothing. She slipped off the bed and tentatively hurried over to the recess. She pressed her ear up against the door, struggling to hear over the low but insistent music from the TV. He was definitely out there. She could hear clanging and the clink of metal. Footsteps.
She examined the door more closely and ran her fingers over the two locks. Just basic locks. She could handle basic locks – they would be easy enough to pick with the right tool. But the door opened inward and those bolts on the other side were going to prevent any kind of pressure against it. There was only one way she was getting out of there and that was when those bolts were drawn back. And that only happened when he was in there with her. Still, a glimmer of hope was a glimmer of hope all the same.
She turned to face the room again and stepped over to her bag. She found her shampoo and shower gel, her comb and brush. Toothbrush. Perfume. She pulled out the clothes, all three of her patterned button-through knee-length tea dresses, dresses that she hadn’t had the occasion to wear in years. She raised her eyebrows. Feminine was obviously his thing. Either that or accessibility. She rooted through to find he’d even packed underwear. She shoved everything back in the bag, uncertain if she felt embarrassed or just indignant at the thought of him rifling through her personal items.
She glanced back at the door behind her. A shower would be good and getting herself into some proper clothes would be even better. She opened the paper bag to find a croissant and a pain au chocolat, some fruit and a bottle of juice. But they could wait.
She hoisted her bag over her shoulder and stepped across to the bathroom. She closed the door behind her, feeling uneasy to see there was no lock. She reminded herself she’d been unconscious with him for over two hours. If he’d wanted to see her naked he already would have. Maybe even had. But something told her that wasn’t his style. He’d want her to know. He’d strip her whilst she was conscious. He’d want to see her reaction.
Caitlin ran t
he shower and pulled off her negligee and knickers. She stepped under the spray, the warm flow making her skin tingle. It felt good to be clean. Good to be fresh. The familiar smell of her shower gel was reassuring even in the strange cubicle where she bathed. She dried off with the warmed towel she plucked off the rail and kept it wrapped around her, its generous size allowing her to simultaneously towel-dry her hair. She combed through her tresses and brushed her teeth, placing her toothbrush next to his. Her hand automatically reached for the brass and amber bottle beside them. She took off the lid. It smelt like him – warm, musky, with notes of spice and amber. The very scent of him sent butterflies soaring in her stomach.
She screwed the lid back on and placed the bottle back on the shelf.
She could do this. It didn’t matter how attracted she was to him, just as long as she didn’t fall for him. That was all it was – a crush: some besotted, unavailability-induced primal attraction. He was so deep in her psyche, so built up after all the years. The handsome face, the perfect body, the enticing smile. It was all just a mirage for what lay beneath, and she needed to keep that at the forefront of her mind.
Caitlin pulled on her underwear and dress and stood in front of the mirror as she fastened the last couple of buttons at her chest. She reached for her perfume and hesitated.
If she tempted him, she had to be sure she could keep playing along. She had no doubt in her mind that they were matched intellectually. But emotionally, sexually, she had to at least acknowledge her own vulnerability. But if that’s what he wanted from her, then that was her bait. It may even lower his guard a little. At the very least she needed to talk to him and start to get what she needed.
She sprayed on her perfume, and stepped back out into the room.
The door was still closed and the room empty. Caitlin strolled over to take the paper bag off the counter and took it over to the sofa. Accepting food from him felt like treachery, but she was hungry. She needed to keep her strength up. More than that, any defiance would only get his barriers up and she needed them as low as she could get them. She lay the napkin on her lap and took out the croissant, picking off mouth-sized chunks as she glanced at the TV.
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