"There's no way to describe tonight without using the phrase cluster f**k, is there?" she asked dryly.
My dear Denise, you have no idea. "It changes things," he said at last. "No one would believe you're merely my property after tonight."
Her expression flittered between sorrow and accep tance, then she forced a smile. "I understand. Thanks for all you've done. I know where not to look for Nathanial now, and that's a start. Oh, and you don't have to worry. I still won't involve Bones. I'll find another way."
Spade continued to stare at her, unblinking. This was his chance to be rid of her. He needed to take it. It was for the best.
Instead he found himself saying, "I won't leave you without help."
Gratitude flashed across her face. "I'll be so much better with whoever you refer me to. I'll act obedient, I won't puke on their clothes - "
He stifled a snort. "Good to know, since it will still be me."
"But you just said no one would believe I'm your property anymore."
They certainly wouldn't, but that wasn't her fault. It was his. He'd whisked her away when she panicked, though any self-respecting Master would have sent someone else to calm her. Then he'd clung to her hand, seated her at his right, obeyed her demand to stay for the duel, nearly gotten himself killed being distracted by her, and rushed to her side after she'd sprayed vomit into his shirt.
Indeed, there was no chance his people would believe she was just his property anymore.
"We'll have to play a besotted couple instead of a vampire and his property. It will require more acting on both our parts, but nothing that will violate your limits."
She looked confused. "I thought you said that would be suspicious, because you don't date humans."
"It will complicate things, but if we find Nathanial soon, the charade could be brushed off as a passing fancy." Or passing stupidity, if he was being more accurate.
She touched his hand. Her fingers were so warm on his cooler skin. Just another reminder of her humanity.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome," Spade said tightly.
Fool, he lashed himself. He wasn't doing this out of pity, obligation, or honor, as Denise might believe. No, he'd just recommitted to helping her for the staggeringly witless reason of not wanting to let her go yet.
Even now, her scent and nearness tantalized his senses. It was the height of stupidity to be tempted by a woman he could neither bite nor shag. Perhaps for his next brilliant notion, he'd take up shaving with a chain saw.
He pushed that aside. Yes, he'd felt an unusual draw to her from the start, but it was just the circumstances that made her extra tempting. Denise was forbidden, so as a result, he wanted her. Add in danger, uncertainty, and close proximity, and it was no wonder he was lusting after her.
But nothing would come of it. Because she was a human, only a few heartbeats stood between Denise and the grave. So fragile, he thought, looking at her. So easily destroyed...
Spade glanced away. Detachment was what he now needed. Detachment, and a demon-dodging sod named Nathanial.
"Tomorrow we'll leave for New York. I know the Master of another large line we can check next."
Her fingers slid off his hand. "We'll just go from Master vampire to Master vampire, checking through their people?" Denise's tone said she thought that was akin to looking for a needle in a haystack.
"For a start. Once I've exhausted my friends' lines, we'll have to try different measures."
Ones that would be more dangerous than sifting through his allies' people, but he wouldn't expose Denise to the darker side of the vampire world again, if he could help it.
By the time they arrived back at the house, Spade felt in control again. Denise tried once or twice to speak to him during the drive, but he kept his answers short. Soon she fell silent. Once inside, he brought her up to his room - the only place anyone would expect her to sleep, after tonight's display - then went to shower without another word. When he came out, she was already asleep, curled on her side in his bed.
He gave her a final, grim look before he settled himself into a chair and closed his eyes. Sleep was what he needed. He'd feel better on the morrow.
When he fell asleep, however, he kept dreaming of Denise...only her hair was blond, her eyes were brown, and her throat had been cut from ear to ear.
Chapter Seven
Denise gasped when she saw the red-haired man who waited for them in the drawing room. "You!"
Sadly, it wasn't her relative Nathanial she'd recognized. Ian blinked, obviously surprised to see her, too. Then his turquoise gaze slid to Spade and he laughed.
"When you said you were coming to see me, I thought this was going to be another boring social call, but I was wrong, wasn't I? Look at you, sneaking behind Crispin's back with his wife's best friend. I'm impressed."
Spade crossed his arms. "Don't snicker so, Ian. We're here on business, though yes, I don't want Crispin informed of it."
The sly smile stayed on Ian's lips. "Silence like that will cost you, mate."
"I have no doubt," Spade replied in an ironic tone.
Denise still couldn't believe Spade involved Ian in this. Bones's sire didn't have a good reputation on the best of days, and at his worst, he'd nearly gotten several of Cat's soldiers killed.
"Don't trust him, he'll go right to Bones and Cat," she muttered.
Ian's gaze settled on her, unoffended by the accusation. "Not if Charles makes it worth my while, poppet."
"Who's Charles?" Denise repeated, looking around. Then she remembered. Right, that's what Bones called Spade, too.
"My human name," Spade said, even though Denise figured it out.
"Don't know why you still insist on being called by that other name," Ian said, shaking his head. "I'd just as soon forget we were ever prisoners, but you've chosen to remind yourself of it every day."
"Keeps me focused," Spade replied lightly.
"Prisoners?" Denise cast a look at Spade. He was a former convict? How could someone keep a vampire locked up, anyway?
"Didn't you know, poppet?" Ian purred. "It was how we met, on the voyage to the New South Wales penal colonies. Baron Charles DeMortimer here thought it was very beneath his station, being chained to common criminals like me, Crispin, and Timothy. Imagine his horror once we arrived and the overseer only addressed him by the tool he had to labor with instead of his title. Makes no sense that he insisted on being called that after he became a vampire, too."
A tick in Spade's jaw said he didn't appreciate the subject, but Denise was intrigued. She'd had no idea Spade had been both a prisoner and a noblemen. In a way, it explained some things. Spade reeked of danger, true, but he also never let her touch a door or car handle, streaking to open them for her. Then his insistence on sleeping in a chair despite it being his bed he was kicking himself out of, and she'd never heard him so much as raise his voice. Add that to the regal air he carried himself with, and she should have guessed that he'd come from far different circumstances than Bones.