The Darkest Kiss (19 page)

“That’s me.” I handed over my credit card. Hopefully, Jack would reimburse me ASAP, because the card had just about reached its limit. I’d discovered a week ago that the man who handmade my wooden-heeled stilettos had just released an autumn range, and I’d gone on something of a spending binge. The pair I wore tonight—a shimmery emerald-colored snakeskin—had been one of five, and the most sedate of them.

The woman in the booth swiped the card—which was one of the new smart cards, requiring fingerprint confirmation rather than a signature—so I pressed my hand into the machine and got a green-light confirmation.

“You’re on table five, Miss Jenson. Just walk down this hall until you see the gentleman in black,” she said, handing me back the card, the ticket, and a receipt. “He’ll direct you to the right table.”

“Thanks.”

She gave me another warm smile. “My pleasure.”

I continued on down the hall. Music wafted in from the other room, classical and soothing in sound. Voices ebbed and flowed around it, suggesting there were at least a hundred or so people inside.

The door guard gave me a smile as I approached. I handed him the ticket and he scanned it through a machine. As the door swung open, he handed me back the ticket. “Table five is around to the left, in the corner,” he said. “Have a nice evening.”

“Thanks. I will.”

I shoved the ticket into my purse, then headed in. One thing struck me straightaway—Sparkies lived up to its name. Sparkles abounded—in the glint of the ornate chandeliers, in the chrome and glass that reflected back the flickering candles that adorned each table, even in the silver and gold thread that ran through the tablecloths and chairs.

The scents that had been evident outside bloomed to full significance. Human, shifter, and vampire vied for prominence with the flowery assault of perfume and the richer tones of aftershave, creating a cauldron of aromas that had my senses reeling.

How the hell was I going to pick any particular scent out of this?

I blew out a breath and looked around. There were plenty of people sitting at the dozen or so tables that lined the room, but there were also many more standing around the dance floor chatting. Even so, the room looked half empty. Maybe the trendy people arrived fashionably late.

I scanned the table numbers until I found mine. There were a couple of old biddies sitting there, but as they weren’t likely to be either Enna Free or my murderer, I wasn’t about to head over there until I absolutely had to.

Instead, I headed right, walking around the edges of the room, trying to sort through the riot of scents and track down the one that would lead me to my suspect.

I might as well have been searching for a needle in a haystack.

I was on my way back to my table when awareness hit and sent a heated wave of desire fleeing across my skin.

I stopped, my heart pounding so hard I swear it was going to tear out of my chest. There had only ever been one man who had caused that sort of reaction in me—Quinn O’Conor, ancient vampire, billionaire businessman, and former lover.

I should have guessed he might have been here, because he always seemed to support major charity events like this. But it had been so long since we’d crossed paths that I simply hadn’t thought about it.

And if I had, what would I have done?

Not come
, a voice deep inside whispered.

Maybe. Maybe not. I was no coward, after all, and I’d faced far worse things than a vampire determined to make me his own—even if he broke my heart and my soul in the process.

I closed my eyes for a moment, taking deep, slow breaths that did little to calm the erratic dance of my pulse, then slowly turned around.

I’d never really believed the line in romance books that said, “Their eyes met, and everything else faded away,” but that’s exactly what happened.

My gaze met Quinn’s and everything else—everyone else—disappeared. It was just him and me in the glittery confines of this room, with this amazing sense of awareness burning between us as fiercely as any bushfire. It was an awareness that had always been there, even from the beginning, and absence had not tempered its flame. It had only made it stronger.

And oh, he looked
so
good. The simple elegance of his black suit emphasized not only the broadness of his shoulders but the lean power of his body. His night-dark hair was cut short and neat, but so thick and lush that my fingers itched with the need to run through it, as they had months ago when we were still lovers. Being an older vampire capable of standing quite a lot of sunlight, his skin held a warm, healthy tan rather than the pasty white that was common among most of them. And his eyes—his eyes had always captured me the most. They were vast wells of darkness that held his secrets and emotions well in check—too well, most of the time—and yet it was so easy to lose yourself in those endless depths. In all respects, he had the sort of looks that drew the eye time and again. Saying he was good-looking didn’t even
begin
to do him justice.

For several more minutes, I did nothing, said nothing, just stood there staring at him, my skin burning and my heart racing.

Then he smiled, and it was such an achingly sweet smile that a shiver ran down my spine and desire spun like a fireball ready to explode all around me.

One touch, that was all that was needed.

One touch, and I was his.

But only a moment, not for eternity. I might want him as I’d wanted few others, but the past between us was laden with lies and mistrust, and it was not something that would ever be brushed aside easily.

He walked toward me, moving with an economy of movement that was both graceful and powerful. But it broke the spell, and suddenly there was noise and people and movement all around me.

I gripped my purse in front of me as if it were some sort of shield and forced a smile. “Fancy meeting you here.”

He stopped when there was little more than an arm’s length between us. His scent swirled around me, soft and spicy.

“How have you been, Riley?” he said quietly, the lilt of Ireland caressing his voice, sending my already erratic pulse into overdrive.

“Fine, considering. How have you been?” God, we were so polite it was sickening—especially considering all I wanted to do was strip him and make love to him. Right here, right now.

It seems the leash had well and truly broken on my hormones.

“I’ve been keeping myself busy.” He paused, and just for a second, emotion fired his eyes, making them burn as fiercely as the desire that continued to flare unchecked between us. What that emotion was, I couldn’t say. As usual, the shields slammed down before I could really identify it. “I heard about you and Kellen. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

I snorted softly, and couldn’t help the slight edge in my voice as I said, “You know I’m not believing
that,
Quinn, because you did everything in your damn power to ensure Kellen and I never got together.”

He raised a hand, as if to touch my face, then stopped inches away, pausing long enough that I felt the heat of his fingers, then let his arm fall again. Part of me regretted that. Part of me was thankful.

One touch was not what I needed right now, even if my whole body ached with a need that totally refuted it.

“You made your choice, Riley. In the end, I respected it.”

“Because you had no other option.” I took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Look, I don’t want to stand here and rehash the past.”

I don’t want to redo us. Don’t want to deal with any more pain. Just go, just leave, before it all starts up again and I end up in an even bigger mess.

He didn’t leave, of course. Whether he’d actually heard my thoughts or not, and whether he was simply ignoring them, I couldn’t say. I wasn’t consciously trying to use telepathy, but he and I had a link that went beyond psi-talents. So often in the past, he’d made comments that suggested he was reading more of my thoughts than he would ever admit, but he’d never really confirmed or denied it. The only admission he’d ever given was that our sharing blood had allowed us a deeper connection than was usual, and that he could read my thoughts whenever I was sick or in the midst of lovemaking.

Any lovemaking, not just him and me.

That
was just one of the things that had torn us apart. That and him trying to change the very essence of what I was.

He studied me, his dark gaze assessing. As if I were some fragile animal he didn’t want to spook. I would have laughed if it wasn’t so true.

After a moment, he asked, “Would you like a drink?”

“Just a lemonade. I’m actually working a case.”

“Oh?” He snagged two drinks from a passing waiter, and handed the lemonade to me. I took the glass, careful not to touch him. The heat from his fingers hit mine regardless, and a tremor ran through my body.

“Yeah,” I said, glad my voice sounded normal when my insides were anything but. God, after everything this vampire had done to me, you’d think I’d be over the sight of him. But no, my ditzy hormones were acting like I was a pubescent pup going through her first moon dance. “We think we’ve got a bakeneko on the loose.”

He raised dark eyebrows. “Now there’s a creature I’ve not heard of in a while.”

“So you do know of them?” I took a sip of the drink. The fizzy liquid did little to ease the dryness in my throat.

“They’re rare. If there’s one in Melbourne, you’ve got real problems.”

“Tell me about it,” I muttered. “The bitch has killed five people already.”

“That’s definitely not a good sign.” He hesitated, then said, “Come sit at my table, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

“What about your partner?”

The smile that touched one corner of his lips was sexy, and yet at the same time, almost sad.

“I didn’t come with anyone.”

“Why not? You’re an eligible bachelor who has women falling at his feet and who never has to pay for it, aren’t you?”

His soft laugh sent little shivers of delight traipsing up my spine. Good Lord, I had it bad.

“Trust you to quote my own damn words at me,” he said.

“That’s not answering the question. As usual, I might add.”

He gave a slight nod in acknowledgment of the barb. “There was no one in my life that I wished to take to this function.” He paused, then added with a slight glint of mischief, “Sometimes, going solo is better than settling for second best.”

“Says the man who can afford nothing
but
the best,” I said dryly, totally ignoring the intent behind the words.

“Ah, but there are some things you can’t buy, no matter how much you try.” He raised his glass slightly, as if in salute, then took a drink before adding, “It’s a lesson I’ve learned recently, actually.”

“Who’d have thought ancient vampires could still be taught things,” I said lightly, even as I wondered whether he
had
learned anything, or if it was just another one of those lines, easily said but never really meant. There’d been a lot of those moments between us, too.

And I guess, to be fair, it hadn’t been all one-sided. He might have been playing me right from the start, but I’d never really taken what lay between us too seriously. He was a vampire, after all, and he could never give me what I’d spent half my life wanting—kids, and a family of my own.

Except
that
was all out of my reach now, anyway, thanks to the vampire half of my soul and the experimental drugs that were forced upon me.

He swung around and offered me his arm. I hesitated, then slipped my arm through his. It wasn’t flesh-on-flesh contact, but it was still contact, and the desire that rushed through my body left me giddy and breathless in its wake.

He didn’t say anything, even though we both knew he was aware of my reaction. He was a vampire, after all, and he’d sense the acceleration of my heart, if nothing else.

We walked across to a table that held a prime position on one corner of the dance floor. He released my arm then pulled out a chair, seating me before sitting down himself. I shifted so that I was sitting side-on in the chair and facing him. My knees were inches from his thigh, and the heat of his body caressed my skin as warmly as any touch. And I wanted to be touched so badly.

I blew out a silent breath and tried to get a better grip on my hormones. I might as well have tried to put out a bushfire with a wet towel. “So tell me what you know about bakenekos.”

“There’s actually not a whole lot to know, because they’re so rare.” He took a sip of wine, his expression thoughtful. “They are cats—real cats—who somehow gain the ability to take on human form to revenge the death of a much-loved master or mistress.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Then they’re generally not responsible for the first death?”

“No.”

“So why do the legends say that bakeneko are known for eating their masters?”

“Because they
do
eat flesh. Apparently, it allows them to take on that person’s human form—a handy thing if they intend to track down and kill those they perceive as responsible for the death of their master.”