Denise jerked back, confusion, guilt, and fear com peting in her. Was her reckless train of thought due to the growing demon essence within her? The inhuman in her drawn to the inhuman in him? Had to be. Spade was a vampire, the same creature that promoted panic attacks in her, and besides that, Randy had been dead for only a year...
Spade stared at her until Denise had to look away. His gaze was too knowing, too intense. From the corner of her eye, it almost looked like he'd taken a deep breath, but of course that was impossible. Vampires didn't need to breathe.
"Ian's this way," he said, turning around. His voice sounded lower. Throatier.
She followed him, keeping her eyes on his shoulders as he maneuvered through the crowd.
Ian was seated in an open booth, two women on either side of him. Denise felt her former angst melt away, replaced with incredulity. Even in a room full of people pretending to be vampires, Ian stood out.
Black boots with crisscrossing chains adorned his legs, the same color as the leather pants that dipped low on his hips. And aside from the studded slave collar Ian wore around his neck and the studs pierced through his ni**les, that was all he had on.
Ian grinned at her, trailing a pale hand down his chest. "Luscious, aren't I, poppet? Go on, stare. I don't mind."
Denise tore her gaze away, but not because she'd been transfixed in admiration. Sure, Ian had an abdomen that could double as a washboard and his face was eerily handsome, but he also had monster written all over him. Couldn't those women sense the menace oozing off him? If she'd met Ian in an alley, she'd run like hell, no matter how much beautiful skin he showed.
"You look like a Dracula p**n movie reject," she managed.
Spade laughed, but Ian winced. "Let's not speak of him. Like the devil, Vlad might appear if we do."
The word devil sobered her. That's right, she wasn't here to focus on Spade, or Ian, or anything except searching for Nathanial. Her family's lives depended on it, and so did her humanity.
As if in response, her stomach let out a growl, even though it had been only three hours since she'd eaten. Ian raised a brow, hearing it even over the pumping music. Spade glanced down at her, hearing it as well, then gestured at Ian's booth.
"Wait here whilst I see if there's anything for you to eat."
A slow smile lit Ian's face. Denise didn't want to be left with him, but insisting on following after Spade sounded too clingy. The brunette to Ian's left scooted over, making a space for Denise. She sat, concentrating on searching the faces of the men in the club, not the vampire to her right. Or the one on his way to the bar.
"How amusing," Ian drawled.
Denise didn't look at him as she replied. "What?"
"Charles, going to fetch you food as though he were a servant," Ian replied. "Master vampires don't do that, poppet. Makes me wonder even more about the two of you."
Denise glanced over, noticing that neither of the women reclined on Ian seemed to care about him saying vampire. Maybe they were humans who belonged to him. Or maybe he'd tranced them into not caring.
"We're, ah...he's...it's none of your business."
What had she been about to do, tell Ian Spade was with her only because she'd coerced him? Or how it was demonic essence that had turned her into a compulsive overeater? It had to be. Normally when she was stressed, she ate less, not more. Besides, if this wasn't something supernatural, she'd have put on ten pounds this past week.
"He's only being polite. You should look the word up," Denise settled on.
Ian snorted. "And angels fly out of my arse when I fart. All his chivalrous tendencies aside, I haven't seen Charles this attentive with a human in almost a hundred and fifty years."
Denise was still shaking her head over Ian's crude imagery when the rest of what he said penetrated.
"What human was he attentive with a hundred and fifty years ago?"
Even as she asked it, she wished she hadn't. For one, it was none of her business, and for another, she was starting to sound like a vampire, with "human" this and "human" that. She had to get away from this world. Back to hers, where there were nothing but humans to distinguish between.
Ian's eyes gleamed. "Hasn't he told you about her yet?"
She couldn't help herself. "Her who?"
"Ah, ah." Ian tsked. "That's not my tale to tell, poppet."
"Then you shouldn't have brought it up," she snapped, her temper blistering in an instant.
Both of Ian's brows went up. Denise fought for control. This wasn't she. It was the damn demon marks. She had to get focus on priorities. It didn't matter what happened with Spade and some woman a century ago.
To distract herself from the inexplicable rage still simmering in her, she turned to the brunette at her right.
"Sorry, Ian didn't introduce us. I'm Denise. Nice to meet you."
No fewer than eighty of Ian's people passed through the Crimson Fountain's door. An impressive number, considering Ian summoned them only earlier this afternoon. In addition to that, Spade counted several vampires not of Ian's line, plus more than a few ghouls, and dozens of humans with a distinct undead scent that marked them as someone's property.
But Denise hadn't recognized her relative among any of them. By three A.M., the scent of weariness and dejection coming from her was palpable.
"We'll be leaving shortly," Spade told her.
Denise nodded, her head propped up on her hand, her shoulders slumped.
"You did very well tonight," he added, trying to lighten her mood even as he cursed himself. He wasn't here to be a bloody cheerleader, after all. Still, the iron will Denise had exhibited, pushing back the PTSD he could tell had risen more than once, impressed him. Denise was a better survivor than she gave herself credit for. With time, she'd be able to defeat her anxiety around vampires and ghouls entirely.
But she doesn't want to, he reminded himself. Once Denise had those marks off, she'd have no need to, be cause she'd never willingly associate with a vampire or ghoul again.
The thought soured his mood. He stood. "I need to feed before we leave. Stay here with Ian."
He didn't wait for her response, but grimly headed for the dance floor. Even at this late hour, it was crowded enough that he could have his pick of people to feed from. The Crimson Fountain didn't close until dawn, still a few hours away.
Spade tore his thoughts away from Denise and concentrated on the moving feast before him. A young woman didn't wait for him to make his decision. She sidled over, smiling as she snake-hipped to the music in front of him.
"Hello, gorgeous," she crooned.