Dealing With 1 - The Deal

REVIEW COPY

Jude Mason

THE DEAL By Jude Mason

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THE DEAL

The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electro nic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. THE DEAL Copyright (c) 2005 by Jude Mason ISBN: 1-59836-064-7 Cover art and design (c) 2005 by Marianne LaCroix All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without permission, except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. Printed and bound in the United States of America. For information, you can find us on the web at www.VenusPress.com

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DEDICATION:

Thank you D. Musgrave for encouragement, and Sascha Illyvich for pointing me in the right direction.

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Chapter One

Spider-like, Sabrina crouched at the corner of the rooftop and gazed down at the scene below. Her long dark hair whipped around her head, and as the drizzle suddenly turned into a deluge, the snake-like tendrils slapped her face and clung to her neck. The slinky, black body-stocking she had on camouflaged her against the night, warmth wasn’t necessary. Even the boots weren’t necessary, but she liked the style. She could hear the three men’s voices, but couldn’t make out the words as they stood over the crumpled body lying in the alley below, but that wasn’t important either. Sabrina was watching one of the live ones; he was much more important, and interesting, than any corpse. He was tall, dark and handsome—surprise, surprise—and he’d been present at four of her latest kills. He didn’t feel like the others though, and he wasn’t looking at the bullet-riddled body as much as he was examining the wounds on the victims’ neck. Suddenly, tall, dark and handsome, squatted beside the corpse and turned the head from side to side, as if he could figure it all out by checking those wounds. Sabrina’s apprehension grew. It had been a very long time since anyone had really believed in her kind, but not long enough as far as she was concerned. A gust of wind brought the conversation up to her, “…see what the body can tell us.” “Another freakish murder,” the fat police detective huffed and drew on his foul smelling cigar. “Nothing taken, still got money in his wallet, rings on his fingers…and did you get a look at that watch? It’s gotta be worth a year’s pay. And that suit—” “Never mind, just get forensics out here,” interrupted tall and good-looking, as he rose and pulled the plastic gloves off. He crammed them into his pocket and hunched his shoulders against the bitterly cold wind and rain. “I know what they’re going to find, I just wish I could figure out what the hell was killing these guys off.” 5

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“Don’t get your shorts in a twist,” said the young beat cop who’d found the body. “You do know who this is, right?” “Yeah, we all know who it is,” the fat detective grumbled. He flicked his cigar into the darkness and continued, “Big John Weir, procurer of young talent for the local prostitution ring, enforcer when he can get the work and, what I’ll never understand, he’s never done time. He’ll be missed, but not by the girls getting off the bus from Nowhere Kansas.” The rest of the conversation was lost to Sabrina as the wail of a siren grew louder. More cops, or an ambulance to pick up the dead. She wasn’t interested in hanging around to find out which. She turned and climbed, nimbly up to the peak of the roof, then rose to her feet, and after a long lingering look at tall and gorgeous, leaped into the night sky. The change happened instantly, her body twisted, condensed and with a single gut-wrenching, bone-jarring shock of agony, she spread the wings that a moment ago had been her arms and hands, and flew. The hunt had been good, but the night was coming to its inevitable close. She sought her den. ~*~ Below, Homicide Detective Matt Gordon, looked up at just the right moment and watched her climb to the peaked roof, and leapt off. His heart stopped. He nearly yelled. For an instant, he stood frozen, his eyes the only part of him that could move, following her dive and transformation—aghast! I was right. His mind finally kicked in and rejoiced that he wasn’t totally insane. Although how he’d prove it, how he’d convince anyone, or even catch whoever that had been, he had no idea, yet. He glanced back at the bored-looking beat cop, something Tanner, he remembered from another case, and old Jack Kramer, beat up and just waiting for retirement, but still on the ball, usually. Neither had seen. They couldn’t have and stand there like chumps, waiting for the culprit to walk up and confess. “Hey, you okay, Matt?” Kramer asked, looking at him with concern. “Uh, yeah, fine,” he managed. He took a deep breath then added, “Listen, Jack, this guy ain’t going anywhere, and forensics will be here any minute. I’m going to take a wander around and see what I can find out. Witnesses, gossip, maybe this guy’s finally screwed up and someone’ll be able to tell us something.” 6

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Kramer looked relieved. Going door to door, or checking through the trash, wasn’t anyone’s idea of a good time. His biggest problem was trying not to sound too eager. “Sure thing, Matt,” he muttered, then glanced down at the body once more before adding, “I’ll stick around here and wait for the meat wagon, then head back to the office and start the paperwork.” “Sounds good,” Matt said and turned in the direction he’d seen the woman leap towards. “I’ll catch you later.” He began walking, thinking as he went. Where would she, he was sure it had been a she, have her den? The quick glimpse he’d had of her, standing at the peak, arms stretched overhead, her ghostly pale face stark against the night sky, had been enough to get his blood racing. Even from the distance, he got a pretty decent look at her shape, and what a shape it was—smooth and round, large breasts and hips, but a tiny waist, and legs that seemed to go on forever, as the old cliché went. When she’d leapt, his heart had leapt with her. Find her, he had to find her and get to the bottom of the murders. He had to find out if, or how, she was involved. He crossed the square and headed down an alley. He moved slowly, checking for any sign of her or anyone else lurking around. From what he knew of Big John’s outfit, he never traveled alone: he always had bodyguards around him. So one of his so-called ‘bodyguards’ should have seen something—could still be in the area. Across another side street and down another alley, Matt was beginning to doubt he’d find anything, but kept going out of sheer stubbornness. Half an hour later, he was ready to give it up. Halfway down the trash-lined alley, a cat screamed and leapt out of a dumpster to his right. His heart slammed against his chest. The stray skittered into a partially open doorway. Matt cocked his head and followed it. Just as the sun peaked over the far-off mountaintops and sent the first rays of light across the cityscape, he entered the building. Silently, he drew his .45 and tiptoed down the long hallway to the right. At first, there was silence, but as he neared the corner, he heard soft moaning. Sweat trickled down his face and sides. He wondered if he should get some backup before going any farther. But the thought of the beat cop or Kramer barging their way in quickly decided for him. At the corner, he stopped and listened, trying to make out what was happening ahead, but all he heard was his own racing heartbeat, and more of the soft moaning. No, 7

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wait; there was some thumping going on too. Rhythmic, as if…he leaned forward and peaked around the corner and damn near fell over. Small room, dark, no windows that he could see, no furniture, except for whatever it was the girl was laid across—two men and a girl. One blue-suited thug was naked from the waist down, or at least his ass was bare, was humping away at the girl, who flopped around like a rag doll beneath him, and appeared to be either unconscious or dead. The other guy stood guard, gun drawn and waving in the air, but he seemed more interested in the action ahead of him than guarding. Eager for his turn, no doubt. The bodyguards, Matt surmised and slunk back behind the wall. What to do? He had to get in there and stop those two goons before they killed her, if they hadn’t already. His stomach turned and bile rose at the thought of her being dead. Biting his lip, he ran a dozen scenarios through his mind, each more dangerous or impossible than the last. The man rutting gave a loud groan then everything was silent. Head pressed against the wall, Matt knew his chance was slipping away fast. He had to act. Taking in a deep breath, feeling the blood pounding in his head, he raised his gun and lunged around the corner, and yelled, “Freeze assholes!” The armed thug spun to face him, gun pointed uselessly at the floor. Thug number two, the rapist caught with his pants at half-mast, fumbled to get them up and fastened. “I said freeze,” Matt growled and both men froze. With his heart still threatening to explode from his chest, Matt walked towards the two men and nimbly flipped the gun out of the first man’s hand. “On your knees, hands laced behind your heads, knees spread,” he barked. “Move it now, or I’ll blow your damn heads off.” Adrenaline burned through his veins and he knew he was on its high. Everything was crystal-clear and moving slow, but he also knew he’d pay for it later—he always did. Both men dropped to their knees and laced their fingers behind their heads. Matt breathed a sigh of relief and lowered his gun, but kept it trained between the two. Then, he glanced at the girl. She was naked, or very nearly so. The remains of the black body-stocking hung in tatters from her shoulders and legs. Her still damp hair clung to her neck and chest, and looked blacker than black against her pale flesh. She lay half in and half out of, what to him, looked like a coffin. Large, ornate, beautifully crafted of some dark wood, with detailed carvings of nymphs and satires cavorting 8

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through a woods on the front. Mother-of-pearl was inlaid around the edge, and the interior looked more like a queen-sized bed done up in white satin than a coffin—but the lid, elaborate as it was, would still close and keep out the sun’s rays. His assumption had been right, he told himself. Taking his cuffs out of his back pocket, he approached the kneeling men, and nudged the first one closer to his partner, who still hadn’t been able to fasten his pants. Gun still aimed their way; Matt clicked the cuffs over one wrist and said to the other man, “Give me your right hand, behind your head.” Matt twisted his arm down and in a moment had them cuffed together. Striding quickly over to the girl, he kept his eyes on the two gunmen. Sliding his hand over her chest, he found her neck and held his breath. Nothing, no pulse and her body was cool. It was as if she was a corpse, but he wouldn’t let himself believe that, not yet. Undead, no, that couldn't be. “You two, face the doorway, now! Put your free hand behind your head. Move and I'll shoot you.” He waited while the two men shuffled around, turning their backs on him. Side by side, they knelt, one hand behind their necks, while the other swung, cuffed, between them. Matt manhandled the girl into the box, he couldn’t think coffin. His mind was in turmoil, planning, and chiding himself for believing what he knew was impossible. A glance at the two thugs, reassuring himself that they were still in place, then he gazed down at the woman he’d rescued. She was incredibly beautiful, in an otherworldly kind of way. Translucent skin, so clear it was almost blue-tinted, blood red lips, full and holding the promise of…of what? He dared not go there—sensuality—sex. The fangs that protruded ever so slightly from the corners of her mouth—his mind raced—what would they feel like sliding along his length. Long lashes, that lay like feathers across her cheeks. She looked fragile, and from moving her around, he knew she weighed next to nothing. He imagined that when she stood, she’d be up to about his collarbone, but voluptuous where it counted. She had curves, luscious breasts that lay beautifully exposed to his hungry gaze, the wine-colored nipples puckered tight against the chill, and hips that looked perfect for gripping, soft and smooth, and abundant, like no fashion model would dare dream of having. The tiny patch of fur nestled between her thighs was damp, and his anger soared. 9

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He bent and tenderly pressed his lips to her forehead, inhaling her scent. Spicy, feral, like nothing he’d ever smelled before. An eyelash fluttered, but she didn't inhale. He felt a stirring in his groin, but ignored it. He rose then, and carefully arranged her on the satin cloth that surrounded her, white and pure, like he knew she couldn’t be. The coolness of her flesh only made the heat of his more pronounced. Matt closed the lid then, and shuddered at how she must live her…life? “Okay you two, up on your feet,” he said and grabbed the biggest one by the scruff of his neck. Hauling him to his feet, the other man struggled up on his own, and almost lost his pants in the process. Matt grabbed hold of the back of them and pulled them up, a little more vigorously than needed, and the guy yelped, as his balls were jammed into a space meant for none. “You guys are both under arrest. We got a dead girl here and your boss was shot just a few blocks away.” He gave them both a push towards the hall and followed them out, reaching for the radio in his jacket pocket. ~*~ Sabrina opened her eyes and immediately knew something had happened— something awful. Pushing the lid of her chamber open, she sat up and her mouth dropped open when she saw what remained of her body-stocking. She flew out of the satin-lined box and landed on her feet in the middle of the room. That’s when she noticed the card tucked into the tattered remains of her left sleeve. Plucking it out, she trembled—who had placed it there, and how? What had happened while she slept? Terrified, she read the card: “I know what you are and what you’re doing. We can help each other. Contact me.” Flipping the card over, she saw the name, Matt Gordon, and a police shield beside it. His address and phone number were below his name. He was her tall and good-looking cop; she knew it and smiled. She’d been alone for too long. He would have answers and it was night, so she was safe. Acquiring new clothes was a matter of transforming and re-forming. The material was there, it just needed to be re-aligned. In essence, it was the skin of her animal-self and easily manipulated. The boots, however, were a different matter and she was glad that whatever had happened hadn’t damaged them. 10

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The address he’d given her was close, a few minutes in the air. She landed and clung to a window frame with her fingers of steel then peered inside, and transformed into her human form. It was dark of course, but her eyes had spent hundreds of years becoming accustomed to the blackest of nights. A bedroom lay before her. The bed was empty. She scurried around to another window, but the room she looked into was also empty. The window was partially open and she heard movement. Not close, but near enough to be enticing. His note had said, "contact me” and she thought in order to do that, she’d have to enter. It was enough. Nimbly, she wriggled inside. Landing, cat-like on her fingertips and toes, she gazed around and sniffed. Yes, he was close. Faster than a human could possibly move, she was on the other side of the room and listening intently again. Then she was through the door and halfway across the large cluttered living room when she realized he was there, watching her from the doorway to her right. She stopped immediately and pierced him with her gaze. “Welcome,” tall and beautifully sexy Matt, said in a tone that was neither afraid nor nervous. “Glad you found the place all right. And I’m glad you’re all right, you didn’t seem like it last night.” He stood in the doorway between the kitchen, where he’d been getting coffee, by the look and smell of the steaming cup of brew in his hand, and the living room, where she stood. All he had on was a towel. The rest of him was damp, from the shower he’d presumably just had. For an instant, Sabrina remembered lust—for more than an instant—and she wanted more. She’d meant to trap him with her eyes. Instead, she found her eyes drifting down his wide, hairless chest, his tiny nipples tightly erect, the washboard ridges of muscle laddering his stomach, the navels’ knot centered, and the towel that barely concealed what she suddenly longed to uncover. His thighs bulged, pushing the towel out towards her. When his legs reappeared below, there seemed an incredibly long expanse of them before she came to his ankles and feet. He was a beautiful representative of the human male, and she enjoyed the view for the few moments she allowed herself. She also relished the sudden, unexpected, dampness that gushed from her loins. 11

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Her gaze drifted back upwards, taking in the finer details this time, the watch on his left wrist, the chain around his neck and the smile. He had a gorgeous smile. She wondered how he’d look without the towel. Her eyes finally locked on his. The coffee cup that he’d lifted to drink from, never reached his mouth. Instead, he lowered it and carefully placed it on the counter. She felt him struggle as a fish would when the hook bit deep. Her smile broadened. His hand dropped to the towel and a moment later, he was naked. He stood, arms loose, his face a mask of frustration as she walked across the room towards him. He was a lovely beast. She silently walked around him, admiring her catch. While standing behind him, she leaned close and inhaled the subtle scent of him. Man, soap, and the copper taint of blood. She licked her lips and ran her tongue over the elongated incisors. Standing in front of him again, she released him. He staggered. She thought he’d try to flee, but he stood unselfconsciously and again reached for his coffee. “I gather you’re all right after all,” he said, and sipped the pungent brew. “Surprised you’re not curious about what happened last night though.” She felt the rumble in her throat as the growl built. “Of course I’m curious.” Her voice was rough, too long unused. She rarely spoke to prey, before she fed. “Tell me.” “While you slept,” he said, and she felt his nervousness rouse. “You were raped. Two thugs, only one got you.” Cocking her head, she looked at him afresh. “What did you do?” “I’m a cop. I took both of them into custody.” His reply was short and sharp as her question had been. “Is this how you repay someone who rescues you?” Sabrina blinked. “Why?” “Why what?” He countered and slowly walked across the room until he got to a well used chair, and sank into it. “Why rescue me? In the note—you know what I am. I feed on your kind, so why rescue?” She had automatically turned and followed him, and when he sat down, she’d crouched, hands on the floor, legs outside of her arms, knees almost to her shoulders. Much more at ease on the solid floor than perched on a chair, she looked up at him and waited. “You feed on us, yes, but you seem to be pretty selective in your dietary choices.” 12

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Sabrina arched her back, and gazed up at the surprisingly relaxed, naked man. “Yes, dietary choices. Bad is bad, no matter the species. I choose to feed on the bad of yours.” “But something happened…during your last…uh, meal, shall we say.” He smiled down at her and she shivered. What was he doing to her? Better yet, what was she allowing him to do? She knew she could stop whatever was happening in an instant, but the gush of moisture that covered her inner thighs had her wanting more. The feeding had been short, but good. If it hadn't been, she’d never have had the strength or desire to feel so excited. She squirmed and pressed her forearms into her pubes. The way he smiled told her he’d seen and she did it again. “But, you were interrupted?” His voice had deepened and as she watched, his slumbering penis showed signs of waking. And, a lovely piece of flesh it was, nestled in its sparse thatch of fur, plump and just a shade darker than the rest of him, circumcised, but still with an abundance of skin. The plum-shaped crown lifted and waved towards her from between his spread thighs. His testicles, one walnut-sized orb resting below the other, churned. “Yes, I was interrupted.” Shifting, she settled onto her bottom. Leaning back on her elbows, she planted her feet firmly on the carpeted floor very close to her bottom; she spread knees so she could see him between her thighs. “Not before I fed well. The gunshot may have ended his life, but he would have died very soon anyway.” Matt slowly lowered his eyes. The body-stocking was a second skin and the outline of her pussy would be clear and stark, and she knew the dampness made it even more so. Sabrina arched her back. The sensual pleasure was something she’d long missed and she planned to enjoy its visit for as long as she could. Her usually cool flesh heated and she purred at the sensation. Her nipples tingled and itched. Her labia swelled. When she moved her hips in just the tiniest circles, her engorged clitoris rubbed against the filmy material separating her from the air. Looking into his eyes, she felt his hunger as well as her own. His heart raced, and her chest hurt with the unfamiliar sensation of it. His blood roared in his veins and she felt it rushing in hers. “Are you going to kill me?” he croaked. To her, that wasn’t the question he was asking. He wanted to know if she was going to turn him. 13

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“Come to me.” The words were scarcely out of her mouth when he slid off the chair, coffee forgotten on the table beside it. She was far enough away for him to have to crawl towards her, and the view was inspiring—for both of them judging by the look in his eyes. The big muscles in his shoulders undulated as he neared her and those along his ribs bunched and relaxed with each forward motion. His ass swayed and, for an instant, she wished she were behind him. She shifted, and her body stocking vanished, melting into her flesh. She saw the shock in his eyes, but it lasted less than a single, labored heartbeat, and it was replaced with such a look of need and lust, she wondered if he’d consume her. “No,” she murmured and splayed her legs wide. “I’m not going to kill you.” He was close enough then, for her to slide her fingers through his hair. She felt his pleasure and the sudden bite of pain when she clenched her fist and took firm hold. His sudden grimace fired her. Relentlessly, she drew him forward, until his face was just inches from the fleshy folds of her sex. The feral scent of her permeated the air around them both and she saw his nostrils dilate as he took it in. He pulled against her hold on him, his desire for her making him forget the pain, or perhaps he craved it as well. She gave in, slowly, allowing his face to come closer to her body, his tongue to flick across the parted inner lips and the nerve filled knot of her clit. Inhaling, hissing from the onslaught of pleasure, she guided him closer still. His lips, so soft and wet, met hers and delivered a kiss more wanton than any she could remember. He sucked and lapped at her, drawing her willingly into his mouth. When he slid his hands under her hips and pulled her towards him, she let go his hair. Her nipples seemed to cry out their need and her fingers answered. They plucked at the tight crimson nubs then pinched the stiffened flesh between fingers and thumb. Softly, rolled back and forth, then squeezed harder as her passion rose. She arched her back and moaned—a piteous sound even to her own ears—then thrust her hips up, as if trying to take him inside. Her orgasm approached and she found herself trembling uncontrollably, reaching for its bliss. Heat and blinding light wrapped her in a brilliant embrace. She suddenly ached. Her body craved a filling like never before and she again reached for him. Claw-like fingers found and gripped hard muscular flesh, his shoulders, 14

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and pulled upwards. His chest and belly dragged over her wetness, anointing him with the wild musk trickling from the inferno of her desire. His erection dragged up her thigh. A liquid trail of his essence marking her, as his shaft mindless sought her entrance. His face level with hers, his mouth wet with the taste of her, hung slack as his tongue flicked across lips still puckered and reaching for her. His eyes were unfocused, as if he was looking inward and searched for the release his body strained towards. A spasm took her, suddenly. Her body quivered and shook as the tip of his staff touched her silken lips. Her hands moved from his shoulders to his hips, instantly, and pulled him forward—sank his man flesh into her, in one long, slow, painfully delicious entry. His flesh dragged on hers, her clitoris seemed to be trying to cling to the steel hardness as it slid over the hard nub. She felt the vein that wound down his length, the pulsing of his blood as it pumped into his turgid flesh and she hungered for it. “Yes!” she hissed as the breath went out of her. Her inner muscles tightened, grabbing him eagerly and stroked his shaft. Each involuntary clenching brought another spasm of pleasure to her. Her mounting bliss matched his and she watched him climbing with her. His brow creased with concentration as he thrust mightily into her. The muscles in his arms bulged and when she wrapped him in her arms and legs, it happened. Together they soared, and growled, and screamed their release. A pause, the wildly beating heart against her chest, and explosions of light and sound tore at her in pulsing flashes. Another thrust and she felt her fingernails sink into his flesh, and he growled his pain. A pulse of his climax echoed the next beat of his heart and she clenched. Softer pulsing, more tenderly held, he stroked her and she coaxed as much pleasure as she could from his waning erection. Finally, her mind returned and she loosened her grip on him, allowing him to catch his breath. He shuddered then collapsed on top of her, his face buried in the crook of her neck, as if feeding himself. The aftershocks grew less and she finally rolled them to the side. Gazing down into his face, she was surprised to see him smiling. “What?” she asked and felt the corners of her own mouth pulling up. “I didn’t think you could,” he began, but stopped and then added, “or would want to.” 15

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“It’s rare, but yes, I still have urges with certain people.” She laughed then rolled out from under him, and sprang to her feet. “I think we have business.” Not quite as fast to regain his breath, it took Matt a few minutes of breathing deeply to get his heart rate back to any semblance of normal. He rolled over and climbed to his feet, then went back to his chair. “Do you drink coffee?” he asked as settled down and he picked up his cup. “Yes,” she replied and approached him. She saw a flicker of something in his eyes then, not quite fear, but concern. All she did was push his arm to the side and climb onto his lap. He was still sweaty, but she liked the feel of him against her. She saw him watching her hand, the long claw-like nails, as she took his cup and drank from it. It had been years since she’d bothered to drink coffee, and as the still hot, strong brew slid down her throat, she wondered why. Returning the cup to him, she looked at him and repeated, “You said in your note, we could help each other. What do you mean?” He shifted, and for a moment didn’t speak. She sensed unease in him, but also urgency. “Okay,” he finally said and sighed. He let his head fall back against the chair and took a deep breath before going on. “I know you’re killing off some of the city’s major bad guys. You know I’m a cop, and I should arrest you and take you in. We both know how far that’d get me. “I’d wind up either dead or a laughing stock when I made out a report about a lady vampire escaping.” He looked at her then and seemed to make up his mind about something. “This is it then. Work with me. You’re doing what a lot of good cops only wish they could do, and so far you’re doing a damn good job of picking out the one’s who deserve it. “I’m not a crooked cop, if that’s what you’re thinking, but I am a frustrated one. We catch ‘em and the court lets ‘em out—usually before the paperwork is even done.” He shifted a little and drained the last of his coffee. “I don’t need you,” she said and cuddled into his side a little closer, enjoying the heat he radiated. “Last night proves that you do.” His words chilled her. What he said might be true, but she’d been around for a lot longer then he had. Her solution to any kind of problem had always been to move on. His tentative offer interested her, he interested her, and she hadn’t been interested in anything for a while. 16

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“I could leave,” she said but knew she wasn’t going to do any such thing. “Yes, you could, but I’d like you to stay.” His arm went around her and he pulled her even tighter against himself. He was surprisingly strong, for a human, and she liked the warmth. Thoughts of a more permanent companionship flashed through her mind, but only fleetingly. “I think I’d like you to stay with me,” he whispered. She felt his heartbeat take off again and knew he hadn’t planned to say that. The idea of living so closely with a human was foreign to her. Humans were prey, food. But somehow, he was different. That thought again, different, perhaps something more. “You know what I am, what I can do and you still want me to stay with you?” She sat up and looked down at him, wanting to see his face when he answered her. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll get hungry one night and you’ll be the meal?” “Yes,” he said and looked into her eyes. She saw his fear then, smelled it, the brutish gut-tightening fear of dying. “Of course I’ve thought about it, but somehow, it feels like the right thing to do. Besides, you can’t leave your…uh…bed where it is. Those two goons’ll be out on bail and your little cubby-hole will be one of the first stops they make.” Cocking her head to one side, she ran her tongue over her incisors, feeling the sharp tips, and the tiny holes at the end through which blood passed when she fed. “You’re right. I’ll move in here, for now. I doubt anyone will think of looking for me here.” She gazed into his eyes and felt a spark of lust rise. “I find you of interest. That’s unusual and for one as old as I am, that’s saying a lot.” She rose to her feet, so smoothly, so delicately; she barely disturbed the light covering of hair on his thighs. She covered herself as she moved. The body-stocking was complete by the time she reached the window. Unlatching it and swinging it open, she looked back at him and said, “I’ll be back soon.”

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Chapter Two

Sabrina climbed onto the windows’ ledge and looked out over the dark city night. What had she got herself into? It had been decades since she’d had a mate, and even then he’d been one of the clan. Her clan. Shuddering, she pushed the mental picture of Matt Gordon aside and rose to her full height. Balanced on the ledge, she raised her arms, and leapt. Gut-wrenching pain tore through her for an instant as she fell, changing, condensing, and finally, thinning, becoming the bat. Then, spreading her silken wings wide, she gathered air and soared high into the moonlit sky. She smelled food—blood and sweat. Along with that came the usual scent of human fear as they went about their tedious, meaningless lives. She flew back to her den, to the familiar comfort and beauty of her resting place which felt tainted somehow. She perched on the corner of her over-sized coffin, slowly easing into her larger form. Hair lengthened over her shoulders and down her back, tickling as it progressed. Her body filled out, breasts formed and she felt their weight comfortably pulling at her chest. Hips and thighs fleshed out, with long, sinewy muscles stretching along her flanks. The black body-stocking she’d grown fond of, formed on her limbs and torso—flesh over her flesh. Barefoot, she circled her den, listening. She reached out with her senses, searching for any sign of intruders. Nothing, but an overwhelming feeling of unease gripped her. She sniffed and wrinkled her nose. Man smell, human sex and her own musky scent mingled in the air. The fetid stink of her rape made her want to retch. Yes, it was time to leave this place and find a new sanctuary. All she wanted was her casket. Her few belongings, mostly jewelry from kills she’d made over the years, she’d toss inside. Transporting it would be a simple matter of her moving it; the difficulty would be in keeping out of sight of curious eyes. For some reason, humans became nervous at the 18

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sight of a woman lugging an enormous coffin around the city. She smiled, her incisors rubbing against the inside of her lip. She glanced around the dingy room and sniffed again. With her small collection of trinkets safely tucked inside the ornate casket, she positioned her shoulder under the side, and lifted. It creaked and for a moment she wasn’t sure if it would rise or fall to pieces. It moved, and then rose as she straightened her back and legs. She made the journey back to Matt’s unseen. With her incredible strength, it was nothing for her to skulk from one hidey-hole to another, the enormous casket balanced on her shoulder. She leapt from one near sighting to the top of a small shed to keep from being detected and smiled when a drugged out whore watched, spellbound, as she crossed overhead to the roof of an old tenement. “Son-of-a-bitch!” Matt exclaimed when he saw her standing at the window she so recently departed from, the huge casket balanced on her shoulder. The window was big, but even with both of them pushing and pulling, it took some doing to wrestle it inside. Finally, it sat on the floor very near where she’d first entered. Sabrina looked around, wondering where would be the best place to sleep. “Follow me.” Matt seemed to sense her problem and took her hand. At first, it seemed odd to be led about by a human. Contact had been rare for her over the past years, and he seemed oblivious to her unease. When he took her down a long, dimly lit hallway and into one of the back rooms of his large apartment, she realized that he had understood her needs. “This is perfect,” she said, and gazed around the small, windowless room. It was only about three meters square, and the walls were a ghastly shade of mauve, but it was otherwise perfect for what she needed. “What is this room?” She turned and cocked her head waiting for him to answer. “Storage,” he replied and crossed his arms over his chest. He gazed at her, curious and she smelled something more. “Humans have a lot of things,” she grumbled and pushed passed him. She heard him follow as she walked back to her casket. Effortlessly, she raised it overhead and carried it through the apartment to her new refuge. She sniffed the air. Much nicer than the old place she thought as she placed her burden in the corner of the room. At least, it would be once she got it painted, and had a stand built for her casket to sit on. 19

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“The color is bad. You will have it painted. Black walls with gold fixtures. And, I need a stand for my resting place.” Her hand rested possessively on the top of the beautifully ornate coffin. Her fingers found the long, familiar curves of a nymphs’ round ass and slid down to where the satyr joined her. She silently stroked the pair as she watched Matt’s expression change from easy acceptance to confusion, then to anger. “You’d like what?” His voice was controlled, but his anger was clear enough for her to smell. “I don’t like the color. You can change it, yes?” She was trying to be polite, but the art of conversation was something she’d forgotten. Stepping closer to him, she slid her hands over his naked chest. His warmth surprised her again; the beating of his heart under her hand excited her. His breath caught, and she looked into his eyes. Eyes of deep gold, flecked with dark chocolate brown, so soft looking she was sure she’d be drawn in and drown in their depths. Why hadn’t she noticed before? Like a magnet, she leaned into him, his heat reaching for her, enveloping her. “Yes, I can change it,” he murmured. His comment confused her for a moment, but then she remembered her question and smiled. How easily distracted she was around him. Her fingernails lengthened with the merest of thoughts. She curled her fingers and splayed them slightly, then drew them down from his collarbone over his breast. “Ah!” he sighed, the pain dragging just that out of him. The look he shot her was worth a hundred—a thousand words of lust, pain, need, and a bewilderment that touched something inside her. “Tonight, will you sleep?” she asked. Pulling her hand away, she watched a tiny trickle of blood ooze from the scratch. Tempted to take him, to suck his blood, to make him her own, she shuddered but held herself away. “No, I’ve got the night shift.” He glanced down at the damage she’d done, then back into her eyes. “My job is to find whoever’s been killing the criminals, remember?” His smile was intoxicating, the metallic smell of his blood dragged at her. She’d have to leave soon, to feed. “I remember. I need to hunt.” She glanced down at the trail of blood as it thickened and wound its way down his chest onto his stomach. “We’ll talk in the morning.” 20

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She turned then, and without another word, she went to the window. Opening it, she hopped onto the ledge. She felt the familiar instant stab of pain, a tearing, rending agony as she leapt into the night sky. ~*~ Matt’s breath caught as he saw her leap into the darkness and change in a heartbeat. Her body condensed, but he knew that was impossible. Her arms grew slender, incredibly so and wings formed magically from her hip to her fingertips. Long slim legs seemed to vanish and became clawed feet in an instant. For a heartbeat, he almost ran to the window, knowing what he’d just seen was impossible—knowing there’d be a body crumpled on the pavement below. He shuddered and walked around her casket, again admiring the dark beauty of the carvings and the mother-of-pearl. So much had happened so fast. He was having trouble staying up to speed on the situation. Paint the room, she’d said. Black! “I don’t have time for this crap. I’ve got to get to work.” There’d be paperwork waiting, a pile of it from the two goons he’d arrested. He’d never gotten around to signing off on Big John’s case either. Kramer would be on his ass again if he didn’t get that done right away. Half an hour later found him entering the precinct. He grabbed a cup of Joe and headed for his desk and the pile of paperwork that he knew would be waiting. “Hey, Matt. It’s about time you rolled in here.” He knew the voice and turned to face his boss, Joe Castelli. Cigar smoke trailed the balding sergeant as he marched towards him, shirt sleeves rolled up past his elbows, the sweat stains indicating he’d been there for more than his regular shift. “Evening, Joe,” Matt said over his shoulder, trying to sound casual. But, by the look in his superior’s face, he knew something was definitely wrong. “What’s up?” Huffing, Castelli came to a halt just as Matt reached his desk. “Kramer was after me earlier.” He pulled up a chair from a vacant desk and dropped into it before adding, “He said you had to sign out a DB you two handled last night. You get it done it yet?” “No, I just got here.” He shucked his coat, tossing it over the coat tree beside his desk then sat down. Sifting through the mountain of files, he found the Weir folder and pulled it out of the bunch. Dropping it on the top of the pile, he opened it and glanced through the two dozen or so pages, before targeting the most recent. Kramer had done a 21

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good job, giving accurate data, but he’d missed the girl—both him and the rookie. Matt searched through the mess on his desk, located a pen and signed his John Hancock in the right places, initialed two other spots and handed the file over to his boss. “That’s it. You need anything else?” “Well…yeah,” he answered sheepishly. “The two goons you brought in. They’re out.” “Yeah, figured they’d be out soon,” Matt replied, and felt his stomach tighten. Where had Sabrina gone? “No body and no connection between them and Big John’s murder.” He puffed on his cigar and blow out a noxious cloud of smoke. “Couldn’t hold ‘em any longer and they were belly achin’ about a lawyer. We had to kick ‘em loose two hours ago. “Thanks, Joe,” Matt said and reached for the next file. “Don’t get comfortable. I want you out there, looking for whoever’s making these hits. We’re looking bad to John Q. Public. Vigilante justice and all that. The bosses are getting nervous. Maybe you can shake something up. Find some answers before this one blows up in our faces.” Matt was more than happy to get out of the office and onto the streets. Wasting no time, he grabbed his coat then headed out. Up until about four months ago, he’d worked with a partner, but Ken Forge had retired and there’d been no move to give him a new one. He was used to the solitude now, and at the moment, was happy to be out on his own. Climbing into his car, he headed to where they’d found Big John’s body. Before he’d driven two blocks, there was a loud thud as something landing on the hood of his car, launching his heart into his throat. He swerved and slammed on the brakes before it clicked that it was her, Sabrina, clinging easily to the trim around the windshield. Once the car came to a halt, he exploded out of the door. “What the fuck was that? You could have been killed. Christ, you could’ve killed me! What the fuck were you—” “Matt,” she said very softly, stopping him cold. “A murder is going to happen in just a few minutes. I can stop it, but I need you to watch my back.” “What?” he roared. Too much was happening too fast. She cocked her head and repeated, “There is going to be a murder. We only have a few minutes. Santo Giovanni, he will be there.” 22

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“Where? I can call up some help,” he stopped suddenly when he realized what she was saying, offering. “Giovanni, he’s big. You want him, right?” “Yes, I want him. We must go. Now. The murder will happen, with or without you, and then Giovanni will be gone.” Without waiting for him to respond, she slid off the hood and went to the passenger door of the car—and waited. “Are we going?” God, she looked amazing, standing there in her body-stocking, hair slightly mussed from her ride, cheeks flushed with…. Had she fed? He pushed that from his mind, unwilling to go there quite yet. “Yes, we’re going. You can tell me what’s going on while I drive.” He scrambled into the car and reached across to open her door. As she climbed in, he asked, “Which way?” “That way.” She nodded back towards the alley he’d just passed then added, “Drive only four blocks. Then we walk or the car will give us away.” “Right,” he said, and slammed the car into reverse. He eased his foot down, not wanting to screech his tires and backed up until he could turn into the alley. “Okay, talk. What’s going down? How come you need me?” “There are too many for me to kill before one might get lucky. At least two of them have guns. They are only using lead bullets, but even that could be dangerous for me. Silver would kill me, but lead hurts and will slow me down. If I am slowed too much, I may be caught. They are going to kill a young man who refuses to run numbers. Make an example of him. Why Giovanni is going to be there, I don’t know. I just know he will be there, and I want him.” “Okay, you take out Giovanni. I’ll cover your ass.” As he said it, the image of her naked ass flashed through his mind and a stirring in his loins made him smile. “Can you take Giovanni out of the scene? I mean physically drag him right out of there?” “You did see me carrying my casket, right? Yes, of course I can—why?” “Right, and I’ll be able to clean up the mess. I’ll wait until I’m sure you’re clear. Then I’ll call in the disturbance and get some back up down there.” “Back up, you mean take his men to jail?” “Yup,” he said and turned to look at her more closely. Empty eyes, as dark as the night, stared back at him. Her expressionless face hadn’t changed. It was as if she’d lost the ability to show what she felt, unless it came to sex. He shook his head, realizing that 23

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his mind kept going back to sex. Forcing his thoughts back to the present, he said, “It’s my job, remember?” “Yes, I remember,” she looked away and nodded. “Stop here.” He eased the car to a stop. By the time he’d pulled the keys from the ignition, she’d opened the door and slipped out. He quickly exited and watched her slink from the doorway to a crack in the brickwork, heading towards a dim light ahead. He followed as silently as he could, and drew his gun. He thought he had her in his sights, but suddenly he was alone. Sabrina was gone. Ahead, he heard men arguing. Matt tried in vain to push his concerns for Sabrina aside as he crept forward. The voices grew louder as he neared the end of the alley. He glanced around, trying to find her, but it was no use. All he could do was hope she knew what she was doing, and that he could protect her if something went wrong. “Fuckin’ kid,” a deep guttural male voice cursed and was followed by the sickening smack of flesh striking flesh. “Please…no more. I can’t do it. Mr. Giovanni, plea—” The young voice came to an abrupt stop when another vicious slap connected. Matt peeked around the corner, just in time to see the boy sag between the two thugs holding him by the arms. He thought “boy” because he couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen. Another heavily muscled brute was in front of him, jacket off, shirtsleeves rolled up as he continued pummeling the boy’s face and stomach. A group of tough looking hoods, ten or twelve of them, all stood gaping at the spectacle, none going to the boy’s aid. One man in particular grabbed Matt’s attention. A big man, not tall, but wide and solid in his gray trench coat and fedora, looked on while puffing away on a huge cigar. He’d just begun to wonder where Sabrina was when he saw a shadow cross over the group. She dropped, reminding him of a bird-of-prey, and landed directly in front of Giovanni. There was no time for the others to react. Hell, there was no time for him to react and he’d known she was coming, before she leapt upon the man. Her thighs went around his waist, and if it had been other circumstances, it would have been incredibly erotic. When she grabbed him by the shoulders and leaned in, her glistening white fangs caught the street light. 24

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Matt watched, mesmerized, as she sank her teeth into his jugular. He was close enough to see her eyes roll back in her head as she sucked the life blood from her victim. Giovanni didn’t even struggle. In fact, he slid his arms around her thighs as if supporting her while she drank. The big man dropped his cigar and seemed to wilt beneath the weight of the girl in his arms. Matt saw his knees wobble, and the lightly tanned face paled as blood stopped flowing. When one of the goons yelled and moved towards the obscenely entwined pair, the spell was broken. Sabrina lithely dropped to her feet and took him in her arms. Then, as if he weighed no more than an infant, she lifted him and draped him over her shoulder. A moment later, as the others came to life, screaming and cursing her, she leapt skyward. Matt had never seen anyone move so fast. One instant, she stood on the outer edge of a group of frozen goons, the next she was half-way down the alley on a rooftop, and then she was gone. Guns came out of shoulder holsters and men cursed and swore as two shots rang out. He stepped out from his hiding place with his .45 aimed into the midst of the pack. “Police! Everyone, freeze!” he yelled. Immediately, two men spun and reached for their guns. Matt raised his gun barrel a few inches and fired over their heads. “I said freeze, assholes, I won’t waste the next round,” he roared. The group froze. The two with their firearms raised looked at him wide-eyed. “You two, guns on the ground. Carefully.” His adrenalin pumped courage through his veins. He saw every movement as if it was in slow motion; every detail was stark and vivid in the streetlight. The kid, lying on the ground, moaned. Matt dug into his pocket and pulled out his radio. Flicking it to send, he said, “Officer needs back-up. In the alley between Seven Oaks and Tenth Avenue. Transport and an ambulance.” Ten minutes later, sirens wailed and flashing lights swept across the skyline. Shortly afterwards there were uniforms all over the alley and a paddy wagon blocking the entrance. Matt was talking to Kramer, who’d recognized his voice over the radio and had come down to see what was going on, and stayed for the show.

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“These are some of Giovanni’s boys, aren’t they?” Kramer’s hands were thrust deep in his pockets, as if keeping them out of sight guaranteed he wouldn’t be given something to do. “What’s with the beat-up kid?” “It seems he wasn’t willing to run numbers for Giovanni, so his boys were trying to change his mind.” The boy was nearly unconscious. The ambulance attendants had put a collar around his neck and strapped him onto a backboard, in case of spinal injuries, before lugging him into the back of the van. Matt figured the kid would be all right, but he’d have scars. “You see which ones worked him over?” Shaking his head, he answered, “It was a free-for-all when I got here. Charge them all. You want in on the interrogation?” “Sure, I’d rather be inside these days anyway.” The big man shrugged and headed towards the group of handcuffed young men. “Great,” said Matt, relieved that he wouldn’t have to take time out to run all eight thugs through the system. Kramer liked the paperwork, Matt didn’t. It worked out for both of them. “I’ll be in later to help.” “Yeah right, just like you did on the Weir case,” he yelled back good-naturedly. Matt smiled and waved as he headed towards his car. Where had she gone? Christ, he’d never seen anyone move that fast. He looked up at the rooftops, thinking he might catch her perched there. Nothing. Had Giovanni come to? Maybe she’d bitten off more than she could chew. He smiled at his Freudian slip, but the worry remained. Where the hell had she vanished to? He drove aimlessly, eyes scanning the rooftops and dark alleyways—anywhere she might be hiding, lurking, or hurt. That last, he didn’t want to think about. He chided himself for a fool, after all, she was—he had trouble even thinking what she was. One thing was for sure, she was a hell of a lot tougher than him. He reached the outskirts of the warehouse district and circled back towards the center of town, when suddenly, she stepped out of nowhere and into his path. He slammed on the brakes, skidding to a stop mere feet from her. “What the fuck!” he exclaimed and slammed his fist against the dash. ~*~ Opening the door, Sabrina slid into the seat beside Matt. She felt heavy, bloated from the feeding, but filled with a dark energy that she knew would last longer than the 26

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overfed, lethargy that dragged at her. If she’d been alone, she’d have gone to her den. With him, this Matt, she couldn’t. He might see it as a weakness, and she couldn’t show him anything but her strengths, not after the fiasco he’d rescued her from. “What the hell are you doing?” She turned and glared at him. Why was he screaming at her? She’d done exactly as they’d agreed, what he’d suggested. Giovanni was nothing more than a pile of lifeless skin and bones left in a dumpster several blocks from where she’d snatched him. He’d been a big man, and filled her completely. She wouldn’t have to kill again for days, unless she was very active. “I came to see if the others were taken care of,” she replied evenly. “Giovanni is dead. He can’t harm anyone else now. Are his minions in custody?” Matt sat looking at her for a moment, until she began to feel a little uncomfortable under his scrutiny. Had she done something wrong? She was sure she’d escaped without anyone truly seeing her. “Yes, his thugs are all on their way to the precinct. The kid’s hurt, but he’ll recover.” He put the car into gear and drove aimlessly as they talked. He told her about how frustrated he was with the system. She told of the long loneliness as she hunted and hid from his kind. They spent the night, planning and sharing knowledge of the top criminal element of the city. There had been four main branches of crime in the city, each with its own head, and one man ruled all of them. Two of them were gone now, Giovanni and Big John Weir. “The other two will be scared shitless,” said Matt as he drove one handed through a quiet neighborhood. “The Boss, Dominic, will be furious, and the madder he gets, the better it’s going to be for us. He’ll get sloppy and then we’ll have a chance at him.” When he turned his gaze on her, she sensed his arousal. A stirring in her belly, and the prickling heat between her thighs reminded her of their tryst only a few short hours ago. She wanted him again. “How much longer do you have to work?” she asked. Shifting, she turned towards him and raised her leg onto the seat that separated him from her. Her inner thighs tingled, an unfamiliar sensation, but one that excited her. Delicately, she traced an imaginary line from the inside of her knee to the tendon that joined her leg to her crotch. A shudder gripped her, and being so unprepared for it, she moaned. 27

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“Are you all right?” Matt asked, then must have realized what she was doing. He focused his eyes ahead on the street. He shifted in his seat. “I get off in about fifteen minutes,” he answered her question without looking towards her, but she felt his desire to do that, and more. “I should go in and give Kramer a hand with the paperwork.” “No, you should not.” He looked at her then, surprised. Her tone had left no room for argument. She was determined to have him again. “No, I shouldn’t,” he agreed, and smiled. “But, I do have to sign out. I’ll drop you at the apartment. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.” Sabrina slipped her fingers a little higher, and shuddered when a fingernail grazed her clitoris through her outer skin. Her gaze remained fixed on the pulse in his neck as she drew her nail up and down between the plump outer lips of her sex. Too long, she mused while watching him squirm. He pulled the car over and stopped in front of his apartment building then returned his gaze on her. For a moment, he just sat staring. “The faster you get out, the faster I can get back,” he finally said. Sabrina smiled. He was a challenge, this man. She slid her nails over her scarcely concealed folds one last time, and then held her finger out to him. Blood rushed into his face as he leaned forward and took the offered finger between his lips. The crinkled softness of his lips as they puckered around the digit made her gasp; the smooth wetness of his tongue sliding around had her head spinning. He pulled his mouth off her finger and laughed. “Off you go, or I’ll attack you right here, right now. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Frustrated, unused to being dismissed, Sabrina’s temper flared for a moment. Then, she too laughed and climbed out of the unmarked squad car. Standing in the middle of the street, she watched him pull away. A strange unease filled her, but she shook it off. His apartment fascinated her. She hadn’t bothered with furniture for years, so just sitting on the sofa took a little practice. She got bored fast and wandered around, peeking into cupboards and drawers, then she spotted his desk and the mound of files he’d left scattered across the top. He had it all—the names and bios of dozens of criminals. Some of the names she didn’t recognize, like the boy tonight, but the pictures matched her memories. He had the 28

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bosses, pictures, and page after page of information on all of them. The five underlings, the head honcho, all right in front of her—records of arrests, trials, dates and convictions, or lack of them. About a third of the manila folders had “cancelled” written diagonally across them. It took her a moment to realize those were ones she’d fed on. Time passed—too much of it. Sabrina looked up from her perusal and her unease returned tenfold. Hours had gone by. Something was wrong. She went to the window and gazed out. Yes, she felt something. Opening the window, she hopped onto the ledge and closed her eyes, searching for his scent. She reached out with her senses. Her hearing intensified and she picked up the sound of rats squealing as cats tore into them, drunks vomiting partially digested scraps of half-rotten food, and the squeal of a hundred car tires. She smelled it all, and nearly retched. But, then she found him. Focusing towards him, she sensed blood and fear as well. She tensed. His fear reached out to her, beckoned her. When she opened her eyes a moment later, she was looking in the direction he’d gone—been taken. A stab of panic hit and she nearly lost her footing on the ledge. Painful shifting, condensing and stretching, then she leapt. She dropped like a stone, building speed and gathering air under her wings, and then she soared. Her senses sharpened. She honed in on him. Less than a mile away, she landed. The house in front of her was huge. It reminded her of one of those southern mansions with its balconies and huge picture windows, but it had no columns. The perfectly kept grounds looked manicured and from her own surveillance she knew they were primped over by gardeners imported from some third world country who couldn’t understand a word of English. A plus when you worked for The Boss. Sabrina clung to bark of one of the huge old Elm trees and watched for the roaming guards she knew had to be on their rounds. It took some patience, but finally one came into view. Only one—and he seemed too at ease. But, it would make getting in easier for her. She waited for him to circle around the side of the house, and then launched herself towards an open window she’d spotted on the second floor. With no balcony, thus no guards and next to no security to worry about, it took her less than a minute to get 29

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inside. She found herself in a darkened sitting room. Scampering under a table, she listened and sniffed the air. He was close. She smelled blood, and knew it was his. Anger gripped her. She scampered across the floor to the partially opened door. Once behind it, she changed. The swift agony came and went so fast, she had scarcely time to gasp before she was full-sized and human in form. Barefoot, she crept around the door and glanced into a hall. Voices from below drew her attention. A shout of pain led her out of the room. “—tell us. You can only take so much. Any man can be broken. Why kill yourself?” The interrogator’s voice was feminine. It was also deeply, sexually excited. “We want to know, who’s giving you cops information. Once you’ve told us that, you’re free to go.” Sabrina slipped into the dimly-lit hallway and headed towards the voices. At the top of the stairs, she stopped and listened again. Where were they? Below—but how far, and in which direction—and how many of them were there? Was Dominic there? He had to be in the house, his smell was strong. “Fuck you!” Sabrina barely heard him. It was Matt, but a Matt in pain and near the breaking point. She slunk down the stairs, keeping low and to one side as she peered towards the door where she heard the voices coming from. She had to know how many there were. She also desperately wanted to know where The Boss was as well as whether Matt was all right. At the bottom of the stairs, she stopped and listened. She reached out with her senses, smelled people, blood, sensed anger, and fear. The sound of a chair scraping across a hardwood floor triggered her into action. She sprang around the corner into the small room where three beefy men in shirtsleeves and a tall, leather-clad woman spun around and stood gaping at her. Matt stood in the center of the small group, or rather was bound into a standing position. His arms had been pulled overhead, his wrists cuffed to a ring in the ceiling. His clothing hung on him in bloody rags. They’d been torn, or whipped nearly off him. Through the rents, she saw long stripes where the whip had torn flesh and the tiny streams of crimson as his blood slowly seeped away. Bruises, swollen and colored from dull yellow to hues 30

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of blue and purple, spread across both cheeks. His lip was cut and swollen, and his tongue continually worried at the wound. All that, she saw in an instant, and then she was upon them. The men stood as if frozen as she leapt across the room and bowled them over. With the legendary vampire strength, she tore out the throats of two before they’d even hit the floor. Number three had a chance to scream once, before he too joined his companions in the cold grip of death. Sabrina didn’t stop there, but rolled across the floor and came to her feet behind Matt. She gasped when she saw his back. His shirt was in tatters as was the back of his slacks. Blood flowed freely from dozens of fresh whip marks from his shoulders down to the back of his knees. If it wasn’t for his belt, he’d be naked from the waist down, and his collar was all that kept his shirt on. “Sabrina,” he moaned, and she felt such anguish radiating from him, she dared to glance his way. “Get out of here.” The leather-clad woman took that opportunity to wield the whip towards Sabrina. The long snakelike braid wrapped around her thigh. A searing jolt of agony tore a cry from her. Her body jerked in pain in an unconscious attempt to escape. But then her instincts took over. She snarled and leapt towards her attacker. Nails, transformed into needle-sharp claws, raked both leather and soft woman flesh from collarbone to belly. The woman’s cry of agony stirred Sabrina’s blood lust. As the whip slithered uselessly to the floor, and the woman’s hands came up to defend herself, Sabrina sank her incisors into her jugular. For a moment, the woman struggled, thrashing in her grasp while her blood seeped away. But, as the blood flow increased, the pressure against her shoulders became a caress. Adrenaline flow faded to a whisper as she fed. She slid her arms around her meal and held her close while she nuzzled a little closer. For several moments, she was lost in the pleasure of feeding. But, she knew she had to get Matt out of there, and fast. There was no telling how long his torture was scheduled to last, or who was to take over from the leather-bitch. When she’d fed enough, she released her hold on the woman and felt a rush of satisfaction as she slumped, lifeless to the floor. She nudged the carcass with her toe, contemptuously and hurried to Matt’s side. “Why would I leave?” she asked reaching for the cuffs. 31

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They were locked, of course, but with her recent feedings, her strength was at its fullest. At first, she couldn’t reach but then she was adrift. She floated, as if on a cloud of air, rising, until she could reach the chain that held him, and pulled. The metal held, and she worried that even her strength wasn’t enough, but then she felt the cuff twist. It gave and Matt slumped, nearly collapsing to the floor. “Hold onto me,” she said and dropped to the floor in front of him, her arms going around his waist. He groaned when her hand slid over the fresh wounds, but he didn’t pull away. With her arms around him, and his draped over her shoulder, they made their way to the door. He made it that far, and no further. With a sob of pain, he collapsed. “Right, well probably easier this way anyways,” she muttered to herself. Pain tore at her as she changed. Not the familiar bat-shape that was so easy for her to take, but she enhanced her musculature and the length of her legs. Picking Matt up, she draped his nearly naked body over her shoulder. A quick glance outside told her the hallway was clear, and she took off at top speed. Her hand across his thighs excited her, and by the time she arrived at his apartment, she was caressing him. She had to think of something else, anything to take her mind off his warm flesh, and the firm muscles under her hand. Dominic, where had he been? She wondered if she should have stayed a little longer and taken him out as well. She knew, somehow, that he’d to be there. Those goons and the bitch wouldn’t be working without his knowledge. Damn!

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Chapter Three

When she helped him through the door of his apartment, he nearly collapsed. If her arms hadn’t gone around his waist, he would have. The touch of his firm, warm flesh against her coolness brought her mind back to what she’d been trying to ignore—she wanted him. She feared for him, as she hadn’t for anyone in decades. She traced her fingers along a wound that ran the width of his lower back, the blood, still sticky, dragged. “Come on, good looking. Let’s get you into a shower.” She guided him into the bathroom. His clothes were stuck to him, where the blood had flowed the heaviest, and then dried. As careful as she was undressing him, he still groaned on more than one occasion. His back and thighs looked as if they’d been run through a meat grinder. His ass wasn’t quite as bad, but she was sure he’d have trouble sitting for at least a few days. “What is this, can’t keep your hands off me, huh?” he groaned. He was having trouble standing, but by the way his erection bobbed between his thighs, she figured he was going to be fine. “Yeah, you’re irresistible,” she replied and slid her fingertips along the length of his cock. His warmth excited her. The pulsing blood, at another time, would have drawn her mouth towards it. “You think you can stand while I get the shower ready for you?” “Yeah,” he said, but she heard the strain in his voice. He’d stand, but not for long without help. She made sure he had a firm grip on the sink before taking the two steps across the pale, blue tiled room to the shower stall. Leaning in, she adjusted the water until it was just hot enough to warm him. Too hot and the clotted blood would dissolve and he’d bleed again. She closed her eyes for a second, took her clothing into herself, and held her hand out to him. “Come on, I’ll help.”

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He looked as if he was going to argue. He clenched his jaw, making his brow furrow. But, he must have thought better of it and took her hand. Good thing too, even with her help he was trembling when he got under the spray. “Assume the position. Put your hands on the wall, step back a little, and hold still. Let me do the work, you just concentrate on not falling.” Her attempt at humor worked and she heard him chuckle while he turned away from her and put his hands at shoulder height on the wall. By the way he groaned and flinched, just the water striking him must have stung his wounds. When she lathered her hands and ran them carefully over his shoulders, he twitched, and as the lather washed into his wounds, he couldn’t stop a moan of pain. Deciding that quick was better than thorough, Sabrina slid her hands swiftly over his back and around his sides to his stomach. Her own belly brushed his bottom as she reached farther around, and she pushed forward gently. Her lightly furred bush flattened against his ass, just as her fingers wound around his prick. He moaned again, but the timbre was different and she sensed his pleasure. “If you want me to stop you, you’ll have a long wait,” he murmured and thrust himself into her hands. She chuckled and squeezed him tight in her fist. He pulsed and another groan whispered inside the warm steamy enclosure. He was slick and hard, and she loved the feel of him in her hands. It had been too long since she’d had regular contact with a man and she felt as if she could drown in his sensuality, and loved every moment of it. “Okay,” he whispered. His legs trembled and his hands had turned to fists against the wall. “I was wrong. I give. You’re going to have to get me out of here or I’m going to collapse.” “I won’t let you collapse.” She released him and stepped aside, letting the water rinse away the stinging lather. Her arms around him again, she helped him out of the stall. While he held onto the counter, she patted moisture off his back, but didn’t try to really dry it, as the flesh was too raw. The rest of him got special treatment and by the time he’d lifted his second foot for her to dry, she was ready to devour him. It took a few minutes, but she got him to his bed, and settled on his side before she approached him. Knelt on the carpet beside the bed, she leaned forward at his middle 34

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and ran her tongue over the moist tip of his cock. He shuddered, which encouraged her to take the swollen crown into her mouth. He tasted of soap and pre-come. He grunted and thrust his hips forward as she twirled her tongue around the silky knob. Covering her incisors with her lips, she took him in deeper, savoring the texture of the tight, hot flesh filling her mouth. Her pussy clamped down on an aching nothing when his erection pulsed. She felt his heart beat, his pulse beat like a tiny drum. She slid her tongue along the large vein running along the underside and moaned herself. She was tempted. A single nick of her incisors would be all it took and she’d drink a heady mix of pre-come and blood. She teased herself, lightly brushing her incisor over the throbbing vein, and licking her way from cock head to base. His throbbing increased, as did her excitement. She shoved her hand between her thighs and rode the hard knuckles of her fist, as she plunged her mouth down on him. She felt him swell, that lovely engorging before the final event. And then it happened. He took hold of her hair and held her tight to his belly as he erupted. Her mouth filled with his seed. She drank hungrily, and sucked again, searching for more. Three times he pulsed, sending more into her mouth and each time he grunted. His body thrust uncontrollably, and she reveled in the sweet saltiness of her meal. “You’re going to kill me, if you don’t let me rest.” He lay gasping, his heart raced and he was covered in sweat. “Rest now,” she purred, and climbed into bed beside him. She laid there until she heard his breathing deepen. When she was sure he was asleep, she climbed out of his bed and headed for the window. ”Bastards!” she raged as she dropped from the ledge and took wing. ~*~ Matt took a leave of absence from work. It was the first time he’d ever asked for time off, so Serge hadn’t asked for details, just said to call in when he was ready to go back to work. For the next few days, he did little but rest, while Sabrina was in her casket. At night, she searched for news of Dominic, while he exercised and tried to hurry the healing that seemed so painfully slow. Scabs formed on his back and the tops of his thighs and his butt. The itching as it slowly healed nearly drove him crazy. Sabrina applied ointment she made and it seemed to speed the actual healing, but he knew he was going to have some pretty impressive scars. 35

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Sabrina and he spent time together, talking about Dominic, and where he could be. She’d narrowed it down to two possibilities: hiding with his brother, Nicholas, who lived uptown in one of those fancy condos, or he’d skipped town altogether. Matt didn’t think The Boss would leave town, he’d be too angry and would want revenge. Sabrina told him how she’d managed to take out seven more of Dominic’s boys, offering each of them a quick death if they’d give her information on the Boss’ whereabouts. Two had squealed. The others had died screaming, her teeth in their jugulars, her hand gripping their swollen, abused testicles much too tightly. He’d squirmed uncomfortably when she’d told him about it. But, he realized her morals weren’t his, and they did need the information she’d garnered. He turned off the shower and stepped out into the steamy room. Toweling off, his mind wandered back their first meeting. He’d been wearing just a towel then too. A tightening in his groin made him smile and he wondered if she was awake. His smile turned into a thoughtful frown when he caught his reflection in the steamy mirror. He was going to age. Even at thirty-six, he saw the beginnings of lines at the corners of his eyes. Was she going to grow tired of him as he aged? She was perfect for him in so many ways; she fit his lifestyle, didn’t begrudge the time he spent working or thinking about work, and the sex, it was out-of-this-world fantastic. With one towel wrapped snuggly around his waist, he used another to rub over his dripping head and went looking for Sabrina. He found her in the newly painted backroom, just awakening from her daytime sleep. Hair mussed, body-stocking twisted, as only hers could be, she sat rubbing her eyes and yawned. Then she stretched. The gentle stirrings that had begun in the bathroom escalated. The front of Matt’s towel rose and quickly formed a sharp triangle, the head of his prick rubbing deliciously against the rough cotton. “Morning, sleepy-head,” he said and wrapped the towel he’d been using, around his neck. Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned against the door jam, and watched her clamber out. “Good morning, Matt.” Her voice still held the soft slur of sleep. She turned and straightened the white coverlet she’d draped across herself in sleep, and then faced him again. She’d been naked when she turned away, and his heart pounded riotously as he watched her sinuous ass muscles playing just beneath her pale skin. When she’d turned 36

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back to him, her body-stocking was in place and she was smiling wickedly at his obvious arousal. “I have some news for you,” she said, innocently and walked past him, grabbing his towel on the way. He made a grab for it, but she was too fast. His towel went sailing into the bathroom as she raced by, and he was in hot pursuit. A moment later, he caught her in the kitchen, just as she came to a halt in front of the coffee machine. His arm slid around her waist and she laughed as he spun her around, and pulled her against himself. Her cool softness against his rugged heat seemed like a perfect match. “You have news?” he asked with his lips lightly brushing hers. His erection had wormed its way between her thighs and she was mischievously clenching her muscles. He shuddered and ran his hands over her taut behind. “There is going to be a party. I couldn’t find out anything else, only that Dominic will be there.” Her breath was cool against his mouth, but when she flicked her tongue across his lips, it was as if she’d touched him with a flame. For a moment, he wanted nothing more than to drag her to his bed and ravish her, but he knew that business had to come first, at least for the time being. He nipped at her tongue with his teeth, and pulled away. With a soft groan of frustration, she turned back to the coffee machine and he went for his clothes. His erection led the way, and he fought the urge to reach for it, to masturbate. It wouldn’t have taken more than a few strokes. Less, he thought as a pulse made his cock bounce. When he walked back into the kitchen he was dressed, his welts and newly formed scars carefully hidden beneath black jeans and a gray t-shirt. He’d managed to calm his excitement, and was glad that Sabrina was dressed, even if it was only in her second flesh. “A party, you said?” He reached for the coffee she’d poured for him and sat across from her at the table. He arched his brow and looked at her, asking, “Where’d you hear about this?” “Last night, one of my kills said, ‘the party would take care of whoever was doing the killing.’” She looked at him and cocked her head. “He died before he could say anymore. I am sorry.”

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“Hm, I’ll see if I can find Manny,” he muttered, suddenly deep in thought. A party? How could that take care of anything? Manny was his best snitch. If anyone knew anything, he would. “You will talk to this Manny and see if he knows any more?” Matt looked at her, not seeing her for a moment while he figured out where Manny would be at this time of night. A dive on Thirty-second, unless he won big, then he’d be at Max’s Bar. He focused on her, and smiled. “You done good, baby. Manny’ll know what’s up. Maybe, just maybe, we can get to The Boss.” He lifted his cup and sipped at the bitter, dark brew. “Who is this Manny?” Sabrina asked. She too took a sip of coffee and wrinkled her nose. Matt, stifled a chuckle. It had been quite a challenge for her to even try coffee, acquiring the taste was another matter. Food, however, was not going to happen and he knew it. “A snitch. The best one I have at the moment. He used to work for The Boss. That is, until he was sent to prison and got hooked on heroin. When he got out, he was useless to anyone, including himself.” Matt stopped, and remembered how Manny had appeared on his door one night, nearly dead from an overdose. He’d taken him in and nursed him for weeks. Since then, if Matt needed information, Manny provided it, if at all possible. “I helped him and he owes me.” Sabrina looked into his eyes and seemed to read his meaning. She didn’t ask any more questions, she just sat and tried to look as if she was enjoying her coffee. When he finished his, Matt got to his feet and leaned across the table. “I’m going to find Manny, see what he knows.” He kissed her softly on the left temple. “I have to do this alone. He trusts me, but might not be too happy if I brought anyone with me.” “I understand,” she murmured and leaned back, escaping into her own world it seemed. “I need to feed. I’ll be home by dawn.” She was matter-of-fact and he’d grown used to hearing it from her. She fed every three or four days, more if she found prey she thought needed culling. That’s what she called it, culling. “Okay, I’ll see you later.” He was well enough that he knew she didn’t worry about him, but he was grateful that she had for the last few days. The wounds had been ugly and she’d cared for him, as no one else ever had. 38

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He got his gear, shoulder holster, badge and then his jacket. Climbing into his car, he headed towards Max’s Bar. Might as well try the nicer of the two spots first. He liked Max; he’d been in the neighborhood forever and ran a clean establishment—always had. He parked in the lot behind the bar and sat in the dark for a few minutes eyeing the place. Even in the dark, he could see that business was good as couples and small groups came and went. Pushing open one of the large double doors, Matt spotted Manny right away. The scrawny man sat at his usual corner table with a half-empty mug of beer in front of him. His dirty blonde hair stuck out at odd angles and he needed a shave, but his jeans and plaid shirt were clean. He smiled when he spotted Matt, and motioned him over with a wave his hand. Matt glanced around the half-filled bar as he crossed to the former drug addict’s table. “How’s it going, Manny?” he asked, pulling up a chair and sitting to the left of the man. “Good, Matt,” replied Manny as he drained his beer and pushed it across the table. Matt turned and nodded at the bartender, pointed to the empty mug and held up two fingers. The stout, balding man nodded and within a minute, two fresh mugs of beer appeared. Manny smiled and asked, “You here to say hi, or do you have business for me?” Matt took one of the beer mugs and took a sip before answering. “Business, I’m afraid.” The ragged man leaned closer and asked, “Sure, whatever you need, just ask.” “The Boss. I heard he’s got some party planned. I want to know more about it.” Manny blanched, and didn’t say anything for a moment. He glanced around the room, as if checking to make sure no one had heard. “Yeah, this weekend, he’s got some big money deal going down. Seems like somebody’s taken out a few of his boys, and a couple of the other big guys.” He smiled his snaggle-toothed smile and added, “I don’t suppose you’d know anything about that, right?” Matt grinned at him, but didn’t respond other than to take another drink of beer. It was good and felt even better sliding down his throat. “Anyway, I heard he’s offering a big reward to anyone who brings him the hit man or information about who’s doing the killing.” 39

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Matt’s stomach tightened. He knew Sabrina hadn’t killed all of the men she’d been after and that some of them, one or two at least, had gotten a good look at her. If the reward was big enough, they’d spill their guts, even if it meant revealing that a woman had beaten them—even if it meant revealing what they’d seen her do. “I heard there’s a freak woman involved.” Manny’s voice interrupted Matt’s thoughts. “Some real freaky woman’s been doing the killing.” “Manny, I’d advise you to keep what you think you know to yourself, or you’re liable to wind up at this party.” Manny took a large gulp of beer. His teeth chattered on the glass. “When’s this party taking place—and where?” Matt leaned back in his chair and tried to sound casual, although his stomach felt as if fireballs were ricocheting around inside. “Saturday night,” Manny replied in a quavering voice. “It’s at The Boss’ mansion.” “This Saturday?” “Yeah, and I hear he’s madder’n he’s ever been before.” He looked down at the beer and turned the mug, “God help the hitter.” Matt took another pull on his beer, then rose to his feet. “Thanks, Manny, you’ve been a huge help.” He reached in his front pocket and pulled out a ten, tossing it on the table. Without another word, he left the bar. Saturday, that gave him less than two days to get some kind of plan in order. So lost in thought, he didn’t notice the scuffle behind him as the door swung shut. He drove back to his apartment building and wasn’t surprised to find Sabrina still out. Kicking off his shoes, he wandered into the front room, sat in his chair and put his feet up. That was the last he remembered until the phone rang hours later.

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Chapter Four

Sitting up with a start, he at first didn’t know where he was. “Damn,” he growled and reached for the phone on the table beside him. “Yeah?” His voice came out rough and harsh, like he’d been asleep he thought. “It’s about Manny,” came a deep, guttural voice. “The Boss’ men, they got him.” “Who’s this? How do you know Manny’s been taken?” Matt’s voice was suddenly hard, knife-edge sharp, but all he got in reply was a click, and a dial tone. He felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. For a moment, he just stood, looking at the phone and trying to breathe. Then, he got mad and slammed the receiver down, cursing, “Fuck!” He looked at the clock over the sink. Four in the morning. Sabrina wouldn’t be back for at least a couple of hours, if she followed her routine. He turned and paced around the apartment. What did they think Manny knew? Did he know what they needed? Would he tell? The memory of his own torture made him feel sick and his back itch. He was sure his friend wouldn’t be able to take that much, at least not unless he had nothing to tell. “Christ!” he spat. What did he know? Frustrated, his anger climbing, Matt strode to his room. He kept the key to his locker in his bedside table and that’s where he headed first. Pulling his .45 out of the shoulder holster, he checked the load. He unlocked the steel gun case and pulled out his spare ammo and four extra clips. He’d need those and the boot knife. His hands trembled when he bent and strapped the knife sheath to his shin. He fumbled with the buckle and realized he was afraid. Not an uncommon feeling, but usually, he managed to channel it, or at least hide it, until he had time to let it all out. He checked for his flack jacket and cursed again when he remembered he’d left it at the precinct. “Damn!” he muttered and slammed the steel door shut. He locked the case and returned the key to the 41

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night table, and headed for the kitchen. It was where Sabrina came first when she got in, always. He wrote her a note: Sabrina, Dominic’s got Manny at his mansion and I’ve gone to get him out. I don’t know how much Manny knows, so be careful. Matt. He put the note on the kitchen table. The table was clear and the note would stand out, she’d be sure to see it there. He left the light on in the kitchen then headed out. His mind raced as he drove to The Boss’ mansion. Memories of his last visit there were strong in his mind, as was the pain of recovering from the treatment he’d received. Thinking of the beating made his back itch again and he squirmed in his seat. Healed, or nearly so, he still had the occasional twinge of pain. The drive seemed to take hours instead of the ten minutes he knew it was. Traffic was almost non-existent; he saw only two other vehicles all the way there. He thought of going to the precinct for his flack jacket, but pushed it from his mind when his thoughts went to the whipping he’d experienced, and how Manny would hold up. Finally, he pulled to a stop, a block from the mansion. He sat looking up the hill at the brightly lit mansion. Before him stood three stories of elegant white siding, more windows at the front and rear than the sides, an old world southern plantation style mansion, whose owner would have fit right in as a slave holder. He pushed his fear aside. He’d have time for that later. They wouldn’t be expecting him, at least not this soon. They’d only had Manny a couple of hours, not even enough time to soften him up. One more time, he pulled out his handgun and checked the load. He took a deep breath and opened the door. The night was cloudless. Overhead, stars filled the sky and were the only illumination. No barking dogs or cars interrupted him as he made his way to the wrought iron gate at the end of the drive. Matt knew there was a security camera at the gate, but he also knew that if he went to one side, he’d avoid it. The rock wall on either side of the gate rose a good eight feet in height and was a formidable obstacle, but he also knew it didn’t surround the mansion. Stepping off the paved drive, Matt bent low and entered the underbrush that masked the wall. He crept ahead, feeling branches scraping his arms and the back of his neck as he made his way along the rough stone. After a good thirty feet, he came to the 42

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end of the wall and the beginning of the wire fencing. He reached along it; the cool, taut, heavy gauge, link fencing slid through his fingers. He kept going, until he got to a steel post. Matt took one last look around and a deep breath before he began his climb over the fence. Unbelievably, there was no one. He clambered up the fence, swung over it at the top, and landed on his feet on the other side. Again, he listened, half sure there’d be dogs or guards or something to protect The Boss and his mansion. But, there was nothing. This was definitely too easy, and he proceeded with even more caution. He raced to the house and drew his gun as he came to a stop at the corner near the front. Inching along the whitewashed boards, he neared a window. Blinding pain tore at the back of his skull. Lights flashed, agony like none he’d ever felt, then darkness dragged him down into unconsciousness. ~*~ The apartment was unusually quiet when she entered—too quiet. She sniffed, mystified, where was he? She’d expected to hear Matt’s snoring, or the sound of him in the shower—something. But, it was vacant and dark, until she noticed the light in the kitchen. The note on the table caught her attention immediately and when she read it, she snarled. He wasn’t ready to go up against The Boss on his own. He was healing, but not yet fully functional. His reaction time was still not up to what it should be. She knew this and she felt her fear and anger grow. This Manny, why would he be so important? And, why hadn’t Matt waited for her. “Humans!” she silently cursed them. Dropping the note, she walked to the window she used so many times to exit and enter the apartment and slid it open. Breathing in the cool night air, she wondered again how she’d feel when Matt grew old, how she’d feel when the inevitable happened and she’d be alone again. If he didn’t get himself killed before she had a chance to watch his hair go gray and lines to form around his mouth and on his forehead. “Damn!” she growled and leapt. Agony tore through her as her body shifted, condensed, changed. Spreading her wings, she swooped, took to the air, and soared. At least she knew where he was. Empty streets flashed below her. The sounds of prey sleeping or just beginning their day were like whispers to her as she flew towards the mansion. She crossed over 43

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the gate and landed on the corner of the roof. Clinging, with her tiny, clawed fingers, she sent out her senses. She smelled fear and blood. The rich, copper smell was thick in the air and drew her to a window not far from where she perched. Not Matt’s blood, so it was of no concern, but it might lead her to him. She peered into the room. A man, middle aged, with dirty blonde hair, hung from the same hook that had secured Matt only a few short days ago. His clothing hung in tatters, blood dripped from dozens of wounds across his chest and belly, just like Matt’s, not so long ago. There was so much blood; it was hard to tell what color his shirt had been. When he moved, she was surprised; she’d thought him dead. “We don’t need you any longer, Manny.” The voice came from directly to the right of the window, as if the speaker was leaning against the wall there. Manny lifted his head. His eyes were mere slits the flesh around them bruised and swollen; one cheek was higher than the other, obviously broken during the beating. Blood ran from his mouth, and when he opened it to speak, she saw that his teeth had been broken. “Please. I don’t know anything, Mr. Dominic,” he begged, his voice was barely above a whisper, and when he took a breath, a gurgling wheeze came from somewhere inside him. Sabrina leapt to the nearest balcony and clambered over the railing. Hidden in the shadow of the house, she listened. Flesh on flesh, the sickening slap of a fist striking and the grunt of pain followed. She peered into the room, and skittered into the dark interior. Chairs and a large brass bed told her that she was in a bedroom. Voices came from the room next door, Dominic’s and others. At least four hearts beat there, and she had no idea if there were more scattered around the house. “Please, Mr. Dominic,” Manny implored weakly. “This guy’s a cop, you can’t do a cop. You’ll have every one of them in the state after you.” “It’ll be an accidental shooting. His own gun, he was cleaning it. Bam! End of one troublemaker.” Sabrina scurried across the plush carpet to the door and peered around the jam. Panic neared the surface. She had to get in there, and fast. The dimly-lit hall was empty. Sabrina knew she didn’t stand a chance against so many in her present state. She leaned against the wall, and made the change. A second of agony wrapped her in its grip then 44

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she was human-formed and ready. She stole a look around the jam again and seeing that the hallway was empty, she hurried down the hall to the next room. Matt! She smelled him. Why hadn’t she heard him? She fought to remain calm. Running in blind wouldn’t help him or her. She sent her senses out, reaching towards where she thought he must be. She felt him, his heartbeat and then she felt a tendril of thought, but his mind was unconnected with what was happening. Was he unconscious—drugged? She dropped to the floor and eased herself forward until she could see into the room. Manny was there, bloodied and weeping. On the floor next to him lay Matt. He didn’t look as if they’d touched him. He looked as if he’d just fallen asleep. Four men wandered around the room, two whispered together as if they were planning something later. Another checked out the window, while the last stood, barechested and bloody-knuckled, behind the bound and dangling Manny. Dominic, tall, dark haired and built like a bear, strode from where he’d been leaning against the wall to a spot in front of the bound man. His black, silk lounging pants and the deep maroon smoking jacket seemed out of place under the circumstances, the gun he held in his hand, did not. “You, on the other hand, are going to appear as if you’ve been beaten and then shot. Maybe over some drugs or money. Who cares, you’ll be out of my hair for good.” “No. God no!” Manny whimpered and tried to twist away. “Mr. Dominic, please! You don’t have to kill me. I’ll work for you again. I can find out anything you need to know. Plea—” He got no further. Dominic raised his gun and fired, point blank, into Manny’s chest. His mouth dropped open, and a strand of blood-red saliva dribbled from his lips then over his chin. His shirt had been red-stained before, but now the blood gushed from the gaping hole where his left breast had been. Before the echo of the shot had totally died, Dominic turned the gun on Matt. A single shot roared. The center of his chest blossomed with crimson, and the acrid smell of gunpowder hit her. Sabrina screamed, “No!” and exploded into the room. Rage fed her bloodlust and she killed beautifully. Dominic was the only man with a gun drawn, the others she caught flat-footed. Two she took out by simply extending her nails into razor-sharp claws and swiping their throats as she sped past them. They were dead before they hit the 45

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floor, blood spurting geyser-like into the air as they crumpled to the floor. The gurgling sound lasted much longer than their ability to breathe. The third, she trapped his head between her hands and twisted viciously to the left. The snap sounded loud to her ears, but she was in battle mode and heard everything much louder than normal. Number four had a chance to scream—once—before she tore his throat out and showed him the windpipe he’d screamed through only an instant before. He stared at her, his mouth agape, as blood sprayed onto her chest. She turned then and faced Dominic. He’d raised the gun, but it shook. His face was covered in sweat. He shook his head, as if negating her presence by wishing her away. Sabrina crouched, made ready for the leap that would take his life and feed her. She needed to be full for what was to come—and what better food than the blood of your enemy? “What are you?” he stammered as he took a step back. “I am vengeance. I am your death.” Sabrina whispered and leapt. He fired—and missed. Suddenly, she was upon him. One hand gripped his, the gun pointing skyward, the other held his chin and forcing his head to the side. His neck lay bared to her teeth, and his struggles urged her on. The sweet scent of blood was everywhere. The vein in his neck pulsed hotly. Adrenalin gave him added strength, but he was no match for her as she held him steady. She leaned in and flicked her tongue over the pulsing flesh, the thinly veiled stream of blood. It pulsed against her tongue and she quivered. “Please,” The Boss begged, and squirmed in her hands. “Don’t kill me. Please, I’ll do anything you say. Just don’t kill me.” “Can you take back the bullet?” She nodded towards where Matt lay. Again, she licked his neck, tasting his fear. Her fangs extended to needle sharp points, which she slid over his neck. A tiny bit of pressure would be all it took to bleed him. Just a little. His fear was like an aphrodisiac. She needed to feed. She needed to get to Matt soon. Turning his head a little more, she opened her mouth wider and sank her teeth into the jugular. A weak cry of anguish erupted from the prey she held. That’s all he was, prey. Hot blood pumped into her mouth and down her throat as he struggled to free 46

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himself. She gulped and felt him weaken in her grasp. The gun fell to the carpet and she kicked it away, continuing to drink his life away. She grew lightheaded and warm as Dominic sagged in her arms. His life drained into her, and she savored his dying. When his blood ceased to flow, she let him fall to the floor. A rag of a man, pasty white and half his original weight, crumpled at her feet. Contemptuously, she turned away and hurried to where Matt lay. The bullet had gone through his sternum, and was still inside him. She sensed his heart still beating, but weakly. Dropping to her knees, she stripped him. Cloth tore easily in her rush to get to his flesh. He was pale and cool. The blood caking his chest was sticky when she ran her fingers through it. Powder burns marred his flesh, giving it an acrid smell. Sabrina leaned forward and put her face close to his. Yes, he still breathed, but it was so shallow, she knew she’d better hurry. She arranged his body, spread-eagle. He muttered something, but she couldn’t understand what it was, but there was pain in his voice. Then, she dissolved her cat suit. Naked, she straddled his face. Her inner thighs were close enough for him to touch, if he, no she corrected, when he turned his head. Leaning down, she twisted his left leg outward, baring the large femoral artery. Fangs bared, she nicked the flesh and tasted his blood. Sweet and hot, and she wanted more. But, before she drank, she reached down, and with a razor-sharp fingernail; she opened her own inner thigh. “You must drink, Matt.” Her voice held an urgency that he seemed to understand and he turned his head towards her thigh. She felt her blood oozing down her thigh. His head was so close; he must have smelled her—her sex and the coppery taint of blood. “Matt, drink. Now!” she urged, and leaned into his thigh. His cock lay nestled over his testicles and it was a temptation to take him in her mouth first, but she refrained. His manly musk excited her, as did his blood and what she was doing. Delicately, she pressed her fangs into his flesh. He groaned. Whether it was her insistent tone, or the added pain of her fangs entering his thigh, she didn’t know or care, but he did as she asked. His tongue and lips on her inner thigh urged her on. She drank. Together they shared blood, each others and that of a fresh kill. Never before had she dared bring a prey into the clan. But, as their blood mingled and flowed, her senses reeled with pleasure and she knew it was right. He gained strength as he drank and 47

Jude Mason

moved against her. The muscles in his thigh tensed and rippled against her lips. His arms came up and went around her hips. His lips became more insistent, his sucking more urgent, as his strength increased. As Matt’s vigor returned so did his passion. Sabrina lay atop him, and felt the wound in his chest writhe beneath her. She knew what was happening, had seen it and felt it herself. Her blood was infecting him and healing him, and would continue to course through him for as long as he lived. She felt his cock nudge cheek her as it too rejoiced in life. Her body answered his and her juices flowed. Her clit throbbed as excitement roared through her. When Matt moved from his feeding to her pussy, her world exploded. Ecstasy blinded her. Every muscle in her body tensed then went into spasm as his teeth and tongue worked on her. Her instinct told her to finish it, to feed and end the life of the prey. But, she forced that impulse aside and moved her mouth from his thigh to the rampant erection only inches away. They rolled, first him atop her, then her atop him as they pleasured and fed on each other. Voraciously, he drank of her and healed. His body changed as hers had done centuries ago. His rebirth and her lust were nurtured, as bliss held them in its tender arms. The bodies of their prey lay around them unnoticed while they reveled. Finally, they lay back, arms and legs entwined. In the distance sirens wailed, and grew nearer. “We have to go.” Sabrina gazed into his eyes. He wouldn’t grow old now, he’d leave one day perhaps, but he’d be young. “The change will hurt a great deal the first time, but you must do it.” She rose and pulled him up with her. Naked, they threaded their way around the bodies scattered around the room to the window she’d climbed through just a short time ago. Throwing it open, she climbed onto the ledge and motioned for him to join her. “Let your mind go and seek the night sky. The pain will last only a moment, but it will feel as if your insides are trying to get out.” He screamed. She knew the agony he felt. Together they leapt into the night.

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Epilogue

Four months later, Homicide Detective Matt Gordon was officially pronounced missing and presumed dead. Thousands of miles away, two dark figures perched on the spires of one of the oldest buildings in a small English town. Below them lay a body, the second found with the mark of their feeding. The cops prowled the area, but none looked up. “You think any of them will figure it out?”

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Jude Mason

Author Bio

Jude’s imagination frequently leads her astray, and she eagerly follows while trying to keep out of trouble. For those of you who know her, you’ll know that’s not always easy. A picture, a smell, an unexpected glimpse of flesh, or a load of soil in the back of a pickup, are all fodder for her writing. If you’d like to keep up to date with her publishing successes, visit her website.

See more work by this author at www.VenusPress.com

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