Blood Vengeance

by Bronwyn Lee

  Kayla woke up crying. The dream always ended the same—with her running to him and holding his lifeless head in her lap as he slowly faded to dust.

  Sniffling, she drew in a deep breath and used her shirt to dab her watering eyes and glanced at the clock. Shit. She'd have to move soon. It was already early afternoon, and she needed to feed before she left for the office.

  "Oh, man,” she groaned. Looking longingly at her pillow, she got out of bed and went to the fridge. She kept her emergency supply of blood in a plastic container, which she pulled out, and poured some into her favourite mug. She stuck it in the microwave, setting the timer for thirty seconds. Just long enough to take the chill off but not cook it.

  It will do for now, she thought, idly licking a bit from her fingertips.

  Restless, she glanced at the wood counters, stainless steel appliances, and all the gizmos a normal kitchen would have, but it was only for the sake of appearances. She used the microwave, fridge, and a mug. That was all. She had no need for more.

  After the microwave beeped, she took her drink and sat down at the kitchen table, sipping it.

  Blood was fairly easy to come by without arousing suspicion. If the person she'd decided to feed from did get worried, she simply mesmerized them and blurred their memories of the event.

  She didn't have to bite to get the blood; there were so many different ways—so many very enjoyable ways. One of her favorites was to scratch them and lap the blood as it oozed from their wounds. Doing so would heat her up as they squirmed under her ministrations. Out of the fridge wasn't a good one though. From the freezer worse. But it held her until she was able to get a fresh human source. The thought of animal blood made her stomach contract. She'd never liked taking blood from something with more fur than her. It never slaked her hunger either, leaving her anxious for more.

  After she finished and washed her cup, she went to get ready for work. Her bedroom was the only thing she'd redecorated after losing Damien. The bed was still the original mahogany piece, but softened to be more feminine with cool green and white linen and pillows.

  In the full-length mirror on the door of the wardrobe, she looked into her eyes, the only part of her twenty-something appearance that showed she may have seen more than anyone of any age could even dream about. The rest of her features were still young and fresh, barely aged from when Damien had changed her.

  She shook her head, melancholy settling over her. Dreaming about Damien did that to her. She missed him with all her heart, and having such a vivid reminder left her tired and dull, not wanting to do anything. “Snap out of it.” she said as she glared at her reflection. “Enough moping. Time to get going."

  She slipped on a T-shirt and jeans, then shoved her feet into sneakers and applied a little makeup before pulling her hair into a ponytail. Taking the stairs to the garage, she headed off to work on her motorcycle.

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  Chapter Three

  Kayla gnawed on her lip as she wondered how this new partner of hers would work out. The idea of revealing her secret made her stomach clench, though she knew she'd have to tell him eventually.

  She never knew how to broach the subject. “Hi, I'm Kayla, and I'm a vampire,” really never cut it. And then there were the reactions. Usually laughter and disbelief, until something happened and they witnessed her talents. Then fear and wariness took over. Working in close quarters with someone meant the secret couldn't last, especially since she sometimes used her strengths to overcome felons that otherwise would get away.

  She continued to mull over her dilemma as she headed toward the sergeant's office. John was a good man, and she was glad he'd benefited from having her on staff. Initially he'd worried about having a vampire working for him, fearing she would have control issues around blood. She'd been able to dispel his worries over time, and she'd worked very hard to get her detective position.

  John was on the phone when she entered his office. He gave her a grim smile, waving for her to sit down. She did so, wondering where her new partner could be.

  The door opened. Speak of the devil.

  Her eyes connected with his, and shock shot throughout her system. His eyes were blue—as blue as the ocean. She could easily remain forever just staring into their depths.

  Shaking her head, she stood up to break the spell, and thrust out her hand. “I'm Kayla Roberts, and you are...?"

  "Stephen Moore. Pleased to meet you.” His large, long-fingered hand enfolded hers.

  Currents of awareness zinged up her arm, and she fought to refrain from ripping her hand from his. Instead, she dipped her head in acknowledgement while her libido went into overdrive and howled at her to tackle him to the floor, rip his clothes off, and taste him. She looked away, averting her gaze from his, because she knew her excited state would reflect in her eyes.

  If she did taste him, would he melt in her mouth? Wrestling her libido under control, she looked back up at him, forcing a pleasant smile to her lips.

  Oh, my. He is delectable. Those sea-blue eyes were framed with long, dark-brown lashes the same color as his hair, and his wide, sensual mouth was made to give a woman pleasure. His nose was a bit crooked, as if it'd been broken at some stage in his life, and a few fine, white scars told of his life as a cop who wasn't afraid to get involved. He was tall, broad, gorgeous, and he set her senses alight.

  Her reaction to him disturbed her, since she'd never had such a strong one to anybody before. Her unwarranted response was anything but controlled, and she liked being in control. Needed to be in control.

  She realized she still held his hand, but apparently he hadn't noticed. He slowly worked her over, checking her out just as thoroughly as she'd scrutinized him. The heat of his gaze was as dangerous as a lovers touch, and she pulled her hand free of his, unnerved by what he did to her.

  "This could be interesting,” Stephen said ever so softly to himself, too softly for humans to hear. But with her acute vampire abilities, she heard him as clear as a bell. She agreed with his assessment but didn't acknowledge his comment.

  John introduced them properly once he finished his phone call, and she learned that Stephen had transferred from Cairns. He originally came from Brisbane and, wanting to return to be closer to his roots, took a transfer when it came up.

  John eyeballed her with narrowed eyes as she resumed her seat. “Dan Givanni got bail."

  Her mouth dropped open in surprise. “How?” She was unable to keep the dismay out of her voice

  "I don't know how he did it, but Aaron Jackson, the second man you nabbed, was found stabbed in his cell this morning. The camera is the only evidence we have, but apparently it's not enough to hold him. You'll need to watch yourself. He's slipped away, and no one is admitting to know where he's gone."

  Kayla grimaced. “Typical. But I'm not going to hide. That criminal is not going to drive me away."

  Stephen raised an eyebrow. “You snagged Givanni? I'm impressed. I'm surprised he hasn't tried to take you out."

  "I'm tougher than I look.” She snorted in disgust as she stood up and paced. “Sometimes I wonder what is happening when crooks like that can get out and do more damage."

  She sucked in her breath and let it out slowly, trying to settle herself. Then she turned to her boss. “I'll be careful. But for now, I'm going to return to work. I have that murder case that needs following up, and I need to chat with the victim's husband. Come on, Stephen. Let's go. I'll brief you."

  Stephen followed her, and she was certain he was checking her out as they made their way to the garage. She was almost positive his gaze lingered on her butt. She could feel his eyes as if they were heat beams, and they seared her skin through her clothes wherever they came to rest.

  It made her angry that he would do that, and it made her angrier that it could affect her by making her feel vulnerable. She glanced over her shoulder and caught him eyeing her.

  "For crying out loud,” she snapped as she rounded on him. “Cut che
cking me out. Yes, I'm a female. Surely you have experienced working with women before?"

  A dull red made its way up his neck as he acknowledged her comment with a nod. “I apologize. I'm sorry. You're just so ... striking."

  His compliment warmed her, even as she glared at him. “Don't give me that crap.” Then deciding she would torment him, she stepped back from him purred, “Get it over with. Look at me and get it out of your system. Maybe then we can get to work."

  He called her bluff with a grin. “Thanks,” he said as his gaze dropped from her face, over her chest where he lingered a few moments, then made his way ever so slowly down her body and legs.

  Annoyed with herself, she maintained her haughty disdain even though her nerve endings tingled, and she had the urge to throw her clothes off and really let him feast his eyes. When his gaze again met hers, she started to say something scathing, but stopped. The look in his eyes told her how much he desired her.

  Her mouth dried and, as she dropped her gaze to escape the heat in his eyes, she saw his erection straining against his jeans. The tip of her tongue touched her top lip as she fought the urge to fondle him, to release him from his clothes, and take him in her mouth.

  I could have him here, and it would be good. Shocked at herself, she turned and led him to a patrol car. She opened the driver's door and hopped in. She had to get herself under control; she had to work with this man. They needed to maintain a professional relationship. She also knew that he had the right to know what she was before they got involved in anything other then a working relationship.

  "Back to business Kayla,” she murmured to herself. She had a sneaking suspicion she would be saying those same words to herself a lot in the future.

  "We received a call 10:35 last night. A woman was discovered in the parking lot near Naughty Girls. She worked there and had left the building at 10:15. She would always go straight home to her husband. She was reserved and never socialized. Polite but distant. The owner said she was an excellent worker.” Her knuckles turned white on the steering wheel in an effort not to look at him, and she consciously made herself relax her grip.

  In reality, she wasn't game to look at him. She didn't want to see what was on his face or take the chance her expression would give away her desires.

  They drove out to Dutton Park and found the house in an older section of the suburb. Although aged, the house was well kept and, once Harold Fields let them in, she saw it was as neat inside as out. Harold was not a tall man, but he was big, round, and had no neck, which gave him a bullish appearance. He moved with a pronounced limp and barely acknowledged her. Turning his shoulder to her, obviously trying to leave her out of the conversation, she got the distinct impression he didn't think much of women.

  They followed him to the kitchen where he sat at the table. He didn't invite them to sit down. She moved to one side, forcing him to twist to see her. Stephen stayed slightly back, observing the man's reactions.

  Kayla started. “Mr. Fields. Your wife, Sharon, worked at a local nightclub. Last night when her shift ended, witnesses saw her leave, heading toward where her car was parked. Her body was found fifteen minutes later, lying next to her vehicle. An apparent mugging, since her purse remains missing."

  Harold raised his shoulder a little then dropped again. “If you say so."

  "Do you know anyone who would want to hurt her?"

  "No."

  "Would she have been carrying any money that would make her an attractive mark?"

  He snorted. “I'm surprised anyone would think she would be attractive for anything."

  She sensed Stephen move but didn't look at him. Trying to read the man in front of her, she could hear Harold's heart beating faster, and his hands curled into fists. The tightness in his features told her she would get no further with him.

  She smiled, and Harold blinked, surprise clear in his expression.

  "Mr. Fields, I understand that this has been very traumatic for you, so we'll go now and leave you to your ... mourning. We'll contact you if we have any further questions."

  Stephen didn't say anything. He didn't need to. His narrowed eyes were loud and clear.

  Sitting in the car after the interview, Stephen turned to her with a furrowed brow. “Why did you stop the questions? There's more to the story than he's letting on"

  "I agree, but he was clamming up. Pushing him at this point would've achieved nothing. Better to keep him off balance. How about we go to the scene and see if they missed anything?” Relieved he'd sensed it, too, she continued, “I attended the scene, but they called me away because of the Givanni stakeout."

  They went to the nightclub and parked on the street—the parking lot remained taped off from the public. The victim's blood remained on the ground, awaiting the cleanup crew, so they were able to examine the area, visualizing the scene as they ran through different scenarios.

  "I think we may be on the wrong track.” Kayla pinched the bridge of her nose. “I really don't think it was a stranger."

  Stephen returned to the car to retrieve the notes on the crime. The photos showed a woman laying face down next to a vehicle, blood pooling under her, her handbag a few feet from her body. “I agree. Most women when walking to their cars at night have their keys out in their hands, ready to open their door. There are no keys lying on the ground and, according to the list, they were in her handbag."

  "She also has no defensive wounds.” She looked at the close-ups of the woman. “Because she's laying face down, she had to have been hit across the face first, then across the back of her head and body. There are no marks on her arms, indicating she was unprepared for the attack and wasn't defending herself from it. For me, if someone I didn't know approached me at night, I would be on alert. My arms would be high on my body, crossed, or holding my bag in front of me."

  He flipped through the notes. “Have they found the weapon yet?"

  "No. It was a round object of some sort, most likely a pipe, but no trace of it yet, although they thoroughly canvassed the area. Autopsy should give us more information."

  He glanced at the club, its neon lights flashing Naughty Girls in the early evening light. “Is it still a front for other things?"

  She quirked an eyebrow. “It's a perfectly legal establishment, following all the rules set out by the government."

  He huffed and shook his head. “I would hate it if my wife or girlfriend worked in a place like this."

  With a shrug, she said, “Not all the women who work there are prostitutes or drug addicts."

  "No, but they're tarnished simply by association. Would you really believe it if someone said she wasn't a hooker?"

  Their sidelong glances locked as the same idea crossed their minds.

  His words almost tripped out of his mouth. “What if she'd started prostituting? What if she'd been making extra money on the side and hubby found out?"

  Kayla nodded. “What if he'd heard stories about her? Wouldn't that be enough? He wouldn't believe her even if she said she hadn't been selling herself. He could've waited for her and walked her to her car. She wouldn't have thought it unusual because he said he did this occasionally."

  Stephen rubbed his chin. “She wouldn't get her keys out because she was with him. No need to have her keys ready; he would most likely drive home. She wouldn't be expecting an attack either, wouldn't see it coming. She could've been standing, talking to him about her evening, and he may have attacked with no warning.” He frowned. “But wouldn't she notice something in his hands? Wouldn't she wonder about it?"

  "No, not necessarily.” She grinned, sure they'd nailed it. “The husband limps, remember? The report said that although he had a bum leg, he still walked to the nightclub occasionally to give it a workout and to surprise Sharon. Do you think he used his walking stick?"

  "I wouldn't be surprised. But for now we can't do anything till the preliminary autopsy results come in."

  They jotted down their notes and then hopped in the car to head back
to the station.

  "We're close to cracking the case. I can feel it,” Kayla said, jubilant it had been so easy. “Now it's just a matter of time and waiting for some results, and then we can pounce."

  She glanced across at Stephen, and her breath caught in her throat. His gaze lingered on her mouth, and she would have licked her lips, but she couldn't move. She tore her gaze away, her blood pumping hot to her pussy. She couldn't believe a simple look from him could turn her on and fluster her so much.

  Why am I so attracted to him? He shifted position, and she glanced at his crotch to see his erection straining against jeans. His impressive bulge almost had her licking her lips. As it was, a soft sigh of desire escaped her.

  This is ridiculous. What can it be? What could be sparking this attraction between them that would flare like a bushfire?

  Oh. She suddenly realized what was happening. She hadn't fed on fresh human blood in weeks, and she desperately needed some. She found Stephen very attractive, and her desire for blood overwhelmed her senses, causing him to fall under her vampire spell. She sighed with relief and smiled. I can fix this.

  She started to make plans to feed tonight, knowing that doing so would reduce the spell cast over them. Problem solved. She laughed.

  Stephen turned toward her. “What are you so happy about?"

  "I'm just delighted that we've figured it out and have a suspect.” She flashed him a smile. “It makes me feel good that someone will be accountable for this unnecessary death and that I helped do it."

  Stephen shook his head and smiled back at her.

  They traveled in companionable silence back to the station.

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  Chapter Four

  At the station, as they worked on paperwork for few different cases, Kayla realized how long it had been since she'd fed fresh from a host, and her anxiety increased. She shouldn't go for so long without; it wasn't good for her. The refrigerated stuff held her over between feeds, but it eventually started to break down and wouldn't be as healthy. She really needed to find someone to feed from to get back into top condition. She decided she needed to go hunting after work instead of going home.