“Like I told you,” she said breathlessly. Her green eyes flashed, and a smile curved her lips as she rose to her feet. “You have a lot to learn.”
He swiped at his mouth but winced as his fangs made a long, thin cut on his index finger. He looked at the wound, which was dripping blood onto the white sheets, and watched in fascination as it healed closed in a matter of seconds, as though it had never been there at all. While the bloodstains on the sheets proved that he wasn’t crazy—apparently, he was a vampire.
“Just toying with me, aren’t you?” he said tightly. Anger, resentment, and frustration fired in his gut, although it did nothing to quell his lust. “This is all a game to you.”
Doug flicked his angry eyes back to Olivia and revealed his fangs. Something dark and dangerous stirred inside of him as it dawned on him that she probably didn’t care about him or want him. He was merely a pawn for her to use and control. All of this had been a ploy to get him to be just like her—the dreams, the kiss in the alley, and her office, every minute was part of her seduction to lure him into this insanity.
“What? Did you figure that if enough blood rushed to my dick, I’d forget my humanity and drink your blood? Why? Does that seal the deal?” he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. His eyes darkened, and his voice lowered. “I should kill you for doing this to me.”
“I understand how you feel.” Olivia smoothed her long red hair back and kept a blank expression on her face. An emotionless expression, he thought. Cold and calculated. “I wanted to kill my maker as well, but it would be ill-advised.”
She zipped the catsuit back up, covering the milky white curves of her gorgeous breasts that he had been feasting on a moment ago.
He had his head up his ass.
“You want to know the truth?” he asked as he appraised her beautiful form and wrestled with his battling emotions. “I’m not sure if I want to kill you or fuck you.”
“You could try to kill me, but since I’m older and more experienced, it would not end well for you. Secondly, I’m your maker, and killing me is against Presidium law, so it would also earn you a death sentence. And it would hurt my feelings,” she said with a dramatic gesture.
She turned to leave but thought better of it and turned to face him again.
“By the way, I haven’t fucked anyone in almost three hundred years,” she said haughtily. “What makes you think that I’d break that streak for you?”
Doug blinked. Three hundred years? He had no retort for that. Man, he thought it was rough going three months without sex. His eyes wandered over the gentle curve of her leather-clad hip and the swell of her breasts, which made his cock stir to life again in spite of the fact that he was furious with her for turning him into a sideshow freak.
“Now stop bitching, and get dressed. There are fresh clothes laid out over there.” She waved toward the small blue and white love seat on the other side of the room. “You have to be brought up to speed and register with the Presidium.”
“What the fuck is the Presidium?” He got out of bed and grabbed the black leather pants from the small sofa, hoping to shift his focus to something other than jumping her bones. “Leather?” He held them up and looked at her as though she’d lost her mind. “So, not only do I have to feel like a freak, but apparently, I have to look like one too. I guess I should be happy that there’s no cape.”
“You’re not Superman,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “You’re a vampire.”
“Oh, excuse me for getting my fictional stories mixed up.”
“The Presidium is the vampire government, and the leather isn’t a fashion statement,” she said while ignoring his last statement. “That is to help protect you. If you’re going to hunt with us, then you’ll be using silver weaponry, among other weapons. The leather will protect you to a point.”
“Silver? Garlic? Crosses?” Doug snorted and shook his head. “So the movies have it right?”
“Not all of it.” Olivia said as she tied her hair into a tight ponytail. “Sterling silver will kill us if it gets in the bloodstream and just touching it burns like hell. Garlic doesn’t do shit, except stink up the joint and give a human bad breath. There’s more, but seeing that today is the first day of the rest of your undead life, you have plenty of time to learn.”
Doug grumbled something under his breath as he turned his back on her and dragged the pants on. He had a million questions, but at this point, wasn’t even sure where to begin. He could feel her watching him and tried not to think about how much she turned him on. It contradicted every other emotion he was having right now.
“You turned me into a sideshow attraction.” He shoved his arms into the tight shirt, a Lycra and leather thing that fit him like a second skin, and pulled it over his head. “Like the fucking monster that killed my partner.”
When he turned to her, she was standing inches from him. Face to face, her body hovered dangerously close. Her exotic scent filled his head, and without warning, his fangs burst free of their own accord. His gaze flicked to the smooth, silky skin of her throat, and his body hummed with desire—the gut-wrenching need to pierce that flawless flesh and drink.
“When did you get that tattoo?” she asked in a shaky voice.
Olivia placed her hands on his shoulders and urged him to turn around. Doug was only too happy to comply because he was afraid he would lose his senses and kiss her again. Although his body was willing, his mind was all kinds of confused, and he was not in the habit of hooking up with women who didn’t really want him.
She lifted his shirt, and as her fingertips rasped up his back, he shut his eyes trying to keep his raging hormones under control. He had gotten the tattoo because of the dreams, because of her, but the last thing he wanted to do right now was to admit that little tidbit.
“Just a stupid thing I did when I was in college.” He tugged the shirt down and spun around to face her. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
Hurt, or something like it, flickered briefly over her features. “I see,” she said quietly as she tore her gaze from his and walked to the door. “I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready.”
“Two things.” Doug grabbed a pair of combat boots off the floor and put them on as he spoke. “Number one. I’m going to stick with you until we find that sack of shit that slaughtered my partner, and then I’m going to kill it.”
“Agreed.” Her jaw set determinedly. “And number two?”
“Sunlight kills vampires, right?” He watched her nod curtly. “After we kill it, I’m taking a walk in the sun because I’d rather be dead than be like this.”
“Part of what you will learn, Detective Paxton,” she said as her voice hardened, and her eyes glittered like emeralds, “is not all vampires slaughter humans like the rogue that killed your partner or the one that almost killed you. Now, finish getting dressed, and drink the rest of the blood in the pitcher before you come out. Van and Oreo are out there, and if you’re hungry, they might smell like lunch.”
“Van? Your dog?” He cocked his head. “Is your dog’s name Van Helsing?”
“Yes.” She fought the urge to smile and join in the humor. “Don’t change the subject. Drink all the blood in the pitcher. You were just turned, and for some reason, you woke up a day and a half earlier than expected. I don’t want to take any chances, especially since your transition is showing unusual side effects.”
Doug said nothing but glanced at the pitcher as a stabbing pain tugged at his gut. As much as he hated to admit it, he was starving. He could smell the blood from here, but oddly enough, it didn’t smell like blood. He had smelled plenty of blood over the past ten years as a homicide detective, and the pungent, mineral smell was something he had gotten used to. However, that stuff in the pitcher did not smell anything like blood—it smelled delicious.