by Larissa Ione
“Kill her, you mean.”
“We’re not in the habit of letting humans live. She’s seen too much. You know that.” He didn’t give the other male a chance to either argue or agree. “I changed my mind about waiting until Grant’s done. Take ten to clean up, and then let’s go see your little vampire expert.”
“DID YOU KNOW that the black walnut tree is the only plant that cannibalizes other plants?”
Nicole blinked at the vampire standing across the lab counter from her. “Um . . . no.”
“That’s because it’s not true.” The salt-and-pepper-haired male Riker had introduced as Grant lowered his head and peered through a microscope lens at a clear drop of liquid. “They can kill many species of plants within up to eighty feet, but they don’t cannibalize.”
She rubbed her arms and wondered where the thermostat was. The surprisingly sophisticated lab was freezing. “Then why did you say it?”
“Say what?”
“About the walnut tree.”
Grant looked up, confusion flashing in his pewter eyes. “I didn’t talk about a walnut tree.”
How did this guy run a lab? Riker had warned her, but ugh. “So Riker said you were a microbiologist before you were turned.”
“Yes.” He moved over to a hematology analyzer and checked the readout. How did vampires get equipment like that, anyway? He even wore a white lab coat, although the professional appearance was ruined by a crimson tank top that clung to every honed muscle and butt-defining orange-and-black Oregon State University sweats. In college, he must have been the poster boy for sexy geeks. “And it was a black walnut tree.”
He might be handsome as hell, but he wasn’t the easiest guy to talk to. “Where did you work?”
“At Daedalus. Their Albuquerque facility.”
She drew a sharp breath. Was he aware that Daedalus was her company? “That’s the main blood-packaging plant.” The general consensus within Daedalus was that only the weirdos and people the company wanted out of the way worked at the facility. Nicknamed Dracula Diner, the plant was where blood, drained from the corpses of deceased humans, was sent to be processed and bottled as vampire food.
By law, all humans in the United States must donate their blood after death. Organ donation was still a matter of choice. Nicole had always thought it was strange that humans were required to feed vampires but not to save the lives of fellow humans.
Grant glanced over his shoulder at her. “You know of the Dracula Diner?”
Intimately. “I, uh, work for Daedalus, too.”
“Ah. Horrible people.”
Well, this was awkward. “Did you think they were horrible when you were human and working for them?”
His smile was as chilly as the room and way too fangy for her liking. Not at all like when Riker smiled. His fangs were sort of . . . don’t think it. Do. Not. Think. It. Riker’s fangs were not sexy.
“Of course I didn’t think that. I was a brainwashed fool with my own vampire slave.” Grant measured a small amount of reddish liquid with a dropper and added it to a test tube containing white powder. “I met the CEO once. William Martin. Fawned all over him like he was a rock star or something. Practically pissed myself like a puppy welcoming his master home. Now I’d like to rip out his heart with my teeth.”
“Someone beat you to it,” she said, hoping Grant didn’t notice the hitch in her voice.
“He’s dead? Ah, yes, I remember now. Him and his entire family.” He shrugged. “I hope they died in agony.”
Bastard. “I’m sure they did.”
Grant’s broad grin gave him boyish dimples and softened his square jaw. “You think?” After a moment, he frowned a little. “Though someone recently mentioned a daughter who survived. There’s still hope that one of us will kill her.”
So this was what it felt like to be a mouse in a python tank. “Everyone needs a dream, I guess.”
“Agreed.” He positively beamed. “Humans are usually worth only the price of their blood. But I like you.”
“Um . . . thanks?” She eyed the layout of the equipment in front of him as he poured a quarter of the contents of a blue liquid into a flask half full of pink liquid. “What are you doing, anyway?”
He held the now purplish mixture up to the light. “I’m mixing Kool-Aid flavors to find the best-tasting combination.”
She arched an eyebrow. Kool-Aid? He definitely wasn’t firing on all cylinders. Did his clan shove him into this lab to keep him out of the way? She wandered around, stopping at a corkboard covered with papers about vampire physiology, equations scribbled on index cards, and a photo of two male vampires, one blond and backed up against a tree, the other pressed against him, his reddish-brown hair falling forward to frame them both as their foreheads touched.
The intimacy of the photo took her breath away. She’d never been in a position like that, had never experienced a secret moment that defined a relationship as something to be treasured. She’d had lovers, but she’d never loved. Not like that.
“What’s this?”
Grant wandered over. “Ah, Takis and Aiden.” He touched his finger to the photo. “They’re gay.”
“Yeah, I guessed that.”
He sighed. “Once a month, they have to feed from females. You know about that, I assume?”
“Of course,” she replied. “On the eve of every full moon, male vampires must feed from female vampires, and on the new moon, the opposite takes place.”
“Exactly. I’m trying to find a way around that for them.”
She’d never considered the problems homosexual vampires would face. “I’ve hypothesized that the feeding is a biological imperative, sort of heat cycles for both sexes. Because vampires don’t conceive easily or often, it’s like a way to make sure vampires get together.”
He nodded. “Most vampires mate during the feeding. The opposite sex’s blood is an aphrodisiac to vampires. Aiden and Takis would prefer to spend the nights of the full moon together instead of with females.”
“The most obvious solution would be to package female blood and let them drink it that way on the full moon.”
Grant’s lip curled in disgust. “The way humans feed their vampire slaves?”
It was possible that this could get more awkward, but she didn’t see how. “Yeah. Like that.”
A hiss sifted out from between his teeth. “Humiliating. No one feeds that way by choice. Human blood from little packages is one thing. Vampire blood in juice boxes is another.” He turned to her, his deep-set eyes shadowed with irritation. “Have you ever seen vampires after they’ve fed from damned juice boxes of moon blood? Have you witnessed the hour of misery afterward as their bodies cramp from a lack of sexual release? Self-gratification only helps so much.”
Yes, she’d seen their misery, which was why Daedalus now recommended that humans keep at least two slaves, one of each sex, or that they arrange for a partner once a month for a single slave. Packaged vampire blood kept them healthy, but without a sexual partner, recovery was much slower.
An unbidden image of Riker feeding from a female vampire flashed in her head. He was naked, his muscular body moving against the female in powerful surges. Did he have a regular partner, or did he feed from a variety of females? And why the hell did she care?
She cleared her throat. “We’ve found that a biological reaction takes place during the full- and new-moon feedings that, when combined with intercourse, causes a slight change in the body chemistry of both the male and the female, making conception far more likely than with intercourse at any other time of the month.”
“Yes! Finally, someone who gets it.” Grant threw up his hands. “That’s what I’ve found as well. The key, I believe, is in the hormones and pheromones, which explains why, even if a vampire feeds from a vampire of the opposite sex during a moon phase and then has sex with a human, it doesn’t completely alleviate the pain.”
She studied the board. “Have you tried isolating the VR-2 enzyme? I’ve see
n preliminary lab results that suggest giving extra VR-2 with a moon feeding can reduce the discomfort in males.”
“Tried that.” Grant sighed. “But the quantities required to cut the discomfort even by half cause undesirable side effects.”
“Like what?”
“Uncontrollable rage and bloodlust. Aiden nearly killed Takis after a strong dose.”
Interesting. Two years ago, she’d written a paper about the causes of irreversible bloodlust among vampires, and she’d theorized that the VR-2 enzyme might be responsible, although she didn’t know exactly how. Now she wondered if, perhaps, an unnatural buildup from feeding could play a part.
“Do you mind if I look through your notes sometime?” she asked, and then chastised herself for being a fool. She and Grant weren’t colleagues. She didn’t work here or live here, and he wanted Nicole Martin dead.
“Only if you share some of your knowledge with me,” Grant said.
“Deal,” she agreed, but she doubted they’d get the opportunity to do either. “Now I’m wondering if the VR-2 enzyme might have something to do with the way some vampires come out of the turning half-insane.”
Grant gave her a strange look. “Some things can’t be explained by science.”
“I’m surprised to hear you say that, being a scientist.”
He jammed his hands in his lab coat’s pockets. “A couple of decades ago, I’d have agreed. But I’ve seen things since being turned that defy science.”
She didn’t know about the defy science thing, but since being kidnapped by Riker she’d experienced things that defied belief. Like kissing not just a vampire, but the very vampire who had haunted her nightmares for years. Worse, something inside her wanted to do it again, to see if it would be as good the second time as it was the first.
Yup. Defied belief.
Giving herself a mental shake, she jumped back into the conversation. “It would help if we knew the exact origins of the vampire species. We think the first case of vampirism started around four hundred years ago, here in America, but we don’t know where the virus came from, if it was originally airborne—”
Grant took a sip of his purple concoction and grimaced. “You know the vampire legend of their origins, yes?”
“Yes, but the legend is ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
He had to be kidding. “Two Native American tribal chiefs kill each other, and then a crow and a raven fight over their bodies, spilling their blood into the men, who afterward rise that night as undead? Um, yes. Ridiculous.”
“Some vampires agree with you. Mostly the turned ones. There are also rumors of demons creating the first vampires, but if they are so much as whispered inside these walls, Hunter will shut them down with rare temper.”
She smiled politely. “When I see demon DNA, I’ll believe it. Until then, I’m going with the natural-virus theory. If something supernatural was the cause, we’d see vampires with unexplained abilities. Instead of vampires with enhanced natural abilities, like superspeed, we’d see pyrokinesis. Teleportation. Telekinesis. Shape-shifting.”
“Ah. But how many born vampires have you studied? They have rarer and more powerful abilities than turned vampires. Imagine what gifts the oldest, purest vampires must possess. And there have always been rumors of vampires who can do all of the supernatural abilities you mentioned.”
“Rumors. There are also people who believe the earth is flat. People will always believe in things that don’t make sense.” She skimmed her fingers over the microscope like it was an old friend. “And there are scientific explanations about why that is, as well.”
“You remind me so much of me.” He sighed. “I hope Hunter doesn’t kill you.”
Er, yeah. She hoped so, too.
The door banged open, and her heart stuttered as Riker entered with another vampire.
The new vampire, a tall, broad male with an amazing mane of blue-black hair, strolled toward her. He was dressed like Riker, in jeans and a T-shirt, but that was where the similarities ended.
His ebony gaze marked him as a born vampire, and, like so many borns, his Native American ancestry was obvious in his bronze skin and the powerful, chiseled bone structure of select prairie tribes. An aura of ancient energy practically vibrated off him, and she’d bet her entire company that he was either an original vampire—one of the first humans who contracted the virus—or from a first- or second-generation mating. God, how she’d love to study him. Question him. Get some insight into their mysterious origins that had stumped scientists since vampires were first discovered.
The raven and crow story was just too ludicrous. Almost as ludicrous as the demon theory.
“You’re Dr. Nicole Martin.” It wasn’t a question. Hell, it sounded like a threat. How could something as simple as her name sound like he’d said, You’re dead.
Anxiety dried her mouth to dust. “I am. Nicole, I mean.” Wow. Way to babble.
Grant rounded on her, knocking tubes of Kool-Aid all over the counter and floor. “You’re a fucking Martin?”
She casually inched closer to Riker. “I’m the surviving daughter you want to kill.”
“Huh.” Grant went back to his project, righting test tubes and wiping up spilled liquid.
Okaaay. So not the reaction she’d been expecting. He was the most unpredictable person she’d ever met.
“Say the same thing to me,” the new vampire rumbled, “and you’ll get a much different response.” He smiled, revealing fangs that were twice as large as Riker’s. Those things would hurt. “We need to talk.”
“Who are you?” She looked to Riker for help, but the vampire who had confided in her about his mate and child, who had saved her from poachers and handled her with such care, was gone, replaced by a stone-faced hardass with cold eyes.
“He’s our chief.” Riker’s tone was all business, and disappointment cut deep. She wanted the Riker from earlier. With that Riker, she’d felt almost comfortable. This one frightened her nearly as much as he had when he’d kidnapped her from her home. “Name’s Hunter.”
Hunter stepped into her, so close she could smell smoky whiskey on his breath, and panic fluttered in her belly. He was blocking her view of Riker, using his size to intimidate her. It worked. She felt small. Trapped. And excruciatingly aware of how disheveled and dirty she was.
“Riker has told you why we need you?”
This guy didn’t strike her as the type to mess around, and she wasn’t naive enough to think that any friendly inroads she’d made with Riker would extend to the clan leader. She had to be careful if she wanted to make it out of this alive.
Craning her neck, she met his steady gaze. “I’ve already agreed to do everything in my power to find and release the female vampire you think my company is holding.”
“We don’t think,” he growled. “We know.”
It was probably stupid of her, but she was still clinging to the tiniest speck of hope that they were wrong, that Daedalus hadn’t been skirting laws to acquire vampires.
“I said I’d help,” she repeated.
“She’s already helped,” Grant chimed in. “She seems to have an advanced working knowledge of our biology. Can I have her when you’re done? We don’t have to kill her right away, do we?”
She let out a ridiculous mousy squeak. “You know, I’m standing right here while you casually discuss my death.”
Riker moved into her line of vision, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit to herself that she was relieved. “No one is going to die.”
An unreadable look passed between Hunter and Riker, and a sudden, tangible tension crackled in the air.
“Look,” she said quickly, hoping to defuse the friction, “I want to get Neriya back and make sure Lucy is safe. I’ll do whatever it takes, I promise.” Figuring she had little to lose, she adopted her best CEO voice. “But here’s the thing. You need me, so I’d like a little assurance that you’ll release me when it’s done.”
Nicole was pretty cer
tain Hunter would refuse. So she was totally shocked when he stepped back and said, “You have my word. Riker will take care of you. Speaking of which, Rike, while you were showering, I had a chamber prepared for her. Down the hall from yours.”
For one glorious moment, relief gave Nicole a new lease on life. Hopefully a chamber of her own meant a shower and a bed.
Then she glanced over at Riker.
He looked both troubled and pissed, and once again, she wondered just how long she had left to live.
RIKER WILL TAKE care of you.
Yeah, Riker knew exactly what Hunter meant. Taking care of humans had never been a problem for Riker before. And it shouldn’t be a problem now. But son of a bitch, Nicole had gotten under his skin.
She’d saved his life, shown vulnerability and remorse over Terese’s death, and charmed him with her odd origami habit. And in return, like an idiot, he’d told this female things he’d never told anyone. No one in the clan knew that the baby Terese had carried wasn’t his. No one knew she’d killed herself.
Somehow, despite all the trouble Nicole had caused him, he’d confided in her. He’d laughed with her. And he’d gotten hard for her.
“Are we done here?” Riker asked Hunter.
Hunter gave an almost imperceptible nod and swung around to Grant, letting Riker know he was dismissed. “Nicole,” he said, almost as an afterthought and in a cheerful voice that made Riker’s hair stand on end, “I look forward to having a more . . . in-depth session with you.”
Before she could reply, Riker took her by the arm and hauled her out of there. She went willingly. Eagerly, really.
“Thanks.” Her boots thumped softly on the stone floor as they walked down the hall, her slender legs in perfect sync with his long strides. “Things were kind of tense back there.”
Kind of? Hunter was in one of the worst moods Riker had ever seen. Oh, he’d seen Hunter angrier, in full-blown, unreachable rages. But this was Hunter at his worst—or best, depending on which side you were on. The cold fury that started with Neriya’s abduction and ended with Lucy’s kidnapping was gathering deep inside him. It was the kind that rolled over everyone, including those he cared about.