The Darkest Kiss (Riley Jenson Guardian 6)

"He's not coming back in until tomorrow, but I'll leave a note."

"Thanks, Sal."

"Don't thank me, wolf girl. Thank the gods I'm feeling helpful right now."

I grinned. No doubt she'd be her regular snarky self tomorrow, but that was okay. I don't think I could handle too much of the super-efficient, super-pleasant Salliane.

I touched the com-link lightly, switching off voice but not tracking. It was doubtful the vampires would attack us now - if for no other reason than the fact they'd draw too much attention from the Directorate.

The vampires at the other end of the corridor still hadn't moved. I strode toward them, noting for the first time the fact that all five seemed to have been turned around the same age. They all had that lanky, almost awkward look boys seemed to get in their late teens. They were all blonds, too.

I stopped in front of them and tried not to breathe too deeply. "I need to speak to Vinny Castillo."

They glanced at one another, then one said, "Top floor. You're expected."

"Great." Though I wasn't sure it was.

I headed for the stairs and began to climb. The unwashed scent of vampire began to fade the farther I went up, so that by the time I reached the eighth floor, it had all but disappeared. In its place was a mix of blossom and pine that reminded me of springtime and made my nose twitch with the need to sneeze.

I stopped on the landing and looked around. Darkness haunted the corridor to the left, but the right was lit by a series of red candles in stylized, rose-shaped sconces. The flickering light danced warmly across the graffiti-strewn walls and gave the hallway an oddly forbidding feel. Given that Ivan still had power in his apartment, the candles were obviously for effect rather than a necessity.

At the far end of the corridor, a woman waited. Like the vampires on the floors below, she was young and gangly. But unlike them, her blond hair had been recently washed, and shone like pale gold in the flickering candlelight.

Two things were obvious - Vinny liked them young and blonde, and it didn't seem to matter whether they were boys or girls.

I lowered a shield and reached out carefully, feeling psychically for those in the room beyond. I might as well have been trying to source out a big black hole. It didn't feel like there were psychic deadeners involved, nor did it feel like any kind of natural psychic wall I'd ever encountered. It was just a hole. Or maybe it was more like a black star, because it seemed to suck away any sort of mental resonance.

Even the kid at the door wasn't showing up on my psychic radar, though she didn't look like an old enough vamp to block even a weak telepath.

Weird.

I strode toward the guard. Little emotion showed on her pale face or in her dark eyes, but her wariness stung the air. She was dressed casually - jeans, sneakers, and a pale pink tank top - but there was a suspicious-looking bulge on her right side. I wondered if the bullets were the regular kind, or if they'd just happened to have some silver ones hanging about.

"I'm Riley Jenson." I stopped just in front of her and dragged out my badge. "I'd like to speak to Vinny Castillo, please."

Something flickered through her eyes. Amusement, perhaps. "You're expected."

She opened the door, revealing a plush room that was nothing like the rest of the building. The graffiti was nowhere to be seen here. Instead, the walls were covered by thick velvet drapes in a dark, dramatic red. The carpet was thick and lush, and the color of rich sand. And there were chandeliers, for heaven's sake - two big ones that sent rainbow-colored sprays of light scattering amongst the shadows. The rest of his gang might live in squalor, but old Vinny was living it up like a king.

I stepped inside. Saw the thickly stuffed black leather chairs and sensuous-looking chaise sofas before my gaze was drawn to the small circle of people at the far end of the room.

Half a dozen toga-clad boys and girls - I refused to call them anything else, because not one of them looked to be older than seventeen - stood around a mahogany-and-leather chaise lounge. Draped over it was a woman.

A woman who reeked of power and sensuality.

I stopped. I couldn't help it. The force of this woman was unlike anything I'd ever come across. I knew vampires who were either close to, or older than, a thousand years, and neither of them had the immediate impact this woman had. And yet I doubted whether she was anywhere near their age.

Hell, I'd put money on the fact that she hadn't even reached triple figures yet - if only because vampires with any sort of years behind them would surely be able to afford better accommodation for themselves and their get.

She wasn't anything stunning to look at. I guess she could be classed as average - not pretty, not ugly, just normal. A medium-height, medium-built woman with dark brown hair and chocolate-colored eyes.

But in her case, looks didn't matter. Her power lay in her essence. In her very nature.

Werewolves had auras that were totally capable of seducing anyone, willing or unwilling. We weren't allowed to use it on any other race but our own, of course, but that didn't mean it didn't occasionally happen. The energy she was putting out was similar to a werewolf's aura. It was all heat and need and desire, and it spun around me sensually, making my pulse race. My body hunger.

The desire to run forward, to caress her pale skin as the others caressed it - lightly, reverently - hit like a wrecking ball. Sweat began to dot my skin, and the thirst to touch her, kiss her, make love to her, was so strong that I took a step forward.

But it wasn't my desire, wasn't real, and I wasn't about to become some young vamp's plaything. Especially not a young female vamp's plaything. So I clenched my fists, digging my fingernails into my skin, using pain to overwhelm desire. In any other situation, I would have thrown up my own aura to battle hers - but I was standing in the middle of a den of vampires, and that might cause a whole lot more problems.