“You’re flushed,” he said, surprised. “Did you feed?”
“No, I ran two blocks in about eight seconds. Nick saw a kid alone in the lobby and we were worried about her.”
“Ah. I trust you warned her.”
“Actually, we couldn’t catch her. Quick little minx. Jessica thinks she lives here and knows all the alleys and warrens, like a little rabbit. And pretty!”
“Pretty?” he asked doubtfully. (Sinclair wasn’t a fan of kids, and barely tolerated BabyJon, my ward and half-brother.)
“Oh my God, you’ve never seen a prettier kid. She’s practically got ‘bite me’ written on her forehead. So after we couldn’t find her, Nick and Jess stayed outside, just in case.” I hung my shirt on the shoe in the wall, kicked off my pumps, and stepped out of my shorts. I started to wriggle out of my bra when Sinclair held up a hand; I knew what that meant.
So I walked to the bed and let him gently remove my bra and panties, let him pull me down to him. Then I bit him, hard, on the throat and he bucked beneath me in surprise and pleasure. His cool blood trickled into my mouth like dark wine (irony: I hate wine) and my head started to swim almost immediately.
I could feel his dick pressing against my stomach, almost jerking like a live thing, and he was still spasming beneath me, so I broke off and licked his blood from my teeth.
“How about that?”
In response he rolled me over, pounced on me, and bit me right on the jugular. Now I was the one writhing in pleasure—there was something about being taken, something that was just as fine as doing the taking—I don’t know, I can’t really describe it.
Then he plunged into me and I shrieked at the ceiling, shrieked and clawed at his back while he drank and thrust, while he filled me up and I filled him up, and I had time for a scant thought
please God don’t let the cell phone ring
what?
and then my orgasm was roaring through me like a freight train, and it was times like that that I wondered why I ever bitched about being a vampire.
Sinclair shuddered above me and broke off, and I licked the bite on his neck.
“Cell phone?” he panted.
“Told . . . Jess and Nick . . . to call if . . . they ran into trouble.”
He grinned down at me and I stroked his broad back, where my scratch marks were already healing. “Then it’s a very good thing they didn’t—”
My cell phone rang.
Chapter 16
Two blks S, hurry!!!!!!!” Jess had texted, and hurry we did. Instead of dressing, we grabbed hotel robes. Instead of messing with the stairs, we broke the window and jumped out.
I managed to keep my feet, but felt the shock of the landing all the way up to my hips. Never mind. The blond kid was in trouble—or dead. I just knew it.
We got there in just a few seconds and I nearly skidded in the blood, which was as awful as it sounds, especially in bare feet.
“Oh no!”
“Fuck,” Sinclair muttered, which was very unlike him. I was the potty mouth in the Sinclair family. But the situation certainly warranted it.
Except . . . it wasn’t her. It was a different girl, slightly older, wearing filthy clothes and with dirty hands. Her skin wasn’t quite as dark as Jessica’s, and already going dusky with death.
A homeless child? A runaway? Whoever she had been, she’d crossed paths with the wrong man—or woman—and wouldn’t ever have to worry about finding a place to stay again.
“Where is everybody?” I asked, kneeling beside the child.
“We’re the first ones on scene. I’ve called 911.”
“You guys didn’t see anything?”
“We didn’t even hear anything,” Jessica said, sounding very strained. “We just rounded the corner and there she was.”
“Oh, the poor poor thing. Look! I count at least three bite marks, the fucking greedy bastard.”
“Five,” Sinclair said distantly.
“We don’t have to kill! We only have to take half a pint or so, Goddamn it!”
“Yes, that’s been my experience,” Nick said quietly.
I turned on him and snarled, “Yes, fucking A right, Nick, you’re alive, aren’t you? You’re walking around allowed to be a perfect asshole, aren’t you? But this poor kid—this . . .” I stretched out a trembling hand, wanting to touch her, stroke her face, maybe pull her into my arms. Too late, all too late.
Nick seized my wrist. “Betsy, don’t! This is a crime scene. Anything you do—change—won’t help the cops and it won’t help her. Just—don’t, okay?”
“Let go of my wrist,” I said tonelessly, and he did.
In the background, sirens.
“There’s nothing we can do except incriminate ourselves,” Sinclair said quietly. “It’s time to go. Nick can handle the cops.”
He took my hand to help me up and I yanked it out of his grip.
“And we were busy fucking while this kid was getting bled like a pig,” I hissed at him. “Don’t touch me.”
I walked out of the alley, alone.
Chapter 17
Jessica caught up with me. “You’re not mad at them, you know. You’re mad at the creature doing this under your nose.”
“Go away.”
“Oh, you can just shitcan the attitude, Miss Thang! I didn’t kill her. In fact, you and your boy-toy wouldn’t even know about her if I hadn’t told you. So spare me the ’tude.”
I didn’t say anything. What could I say? She was right.
“We’ll get him, Betsy. We won’t leave New York until he’s in flames or bristling with so many stakes he looks like a hedgehog.”
I laughed; I couldn’t help it. Quite the mental image!
“There now, that’s better.” She tucked a hand under my elbow. “And can you slow down? We’re not all six feet tall, y’know?”
“I know, how do you stand it? Is it like being a bug? Or is it more like, you know, being an inanimate object? With no real clue what it’s like to not be a midget?”
“Shut up, Miss Thang,” she ordered, but naturally I disobeyed.
“You don’t even—hey!” I stopped, which jerked Jessica to a stop. Sitting on the hotel lobby steps was the girl we’d seen earlier. Thank God! “Hey, you! We’ve been looking for you!”
“Try to sound a little more menacing, why don’t you?” Jess muttered.
The gorgeous child pointed at me. “I know you! We were playing tag earlier!”
“Uh, not exactly. Listen, where are your folks? This is so not a place for a little kid to be by herself, okay?”
“I’m not a little kid.”
“Right, whatever, where are they?”
“They’re dead.”
Jessica and I traded glances. That explained why the kid was up at practically midnight.
“But what are you doing here?”
“I live here.” She had a high, sweet voice. “The staff takes care of me.”
“Uh . . . about the staff . . . I’ve got some news you’re not going to like, but you can’t stay here another night. Another minute. Y’see—”
“The hotel is run by vampires?”
Jessica and I looked at each other again.
“Well, yes,” Jessica answered. “You, um, knew that?”
“Sure.” The child idly examined her nails, which were brutally short—probably because she bit them. “Vampires killed my folks, and the staff felt bad, so they took me in.”