First Drop of Crimson (Night Huntress World 1)

"Care to place a wager on that?" Spade asked mildly.

Interest flashed across Black Jack's face before he masked it. "What do you wanna bet?"

"All the money I lost to you that I've got higher-quality Red Dragon than the best you have to offer."

Now Denise really gave him a questioning glance, but Spade just squeezed her waist, silently telling her not to say anything.

"We'll talk more when we're in Drai's," Black Jack said. "Too many ears out here."

Spade shrugged. "Lead the way, mate."

Chapter Eighteen

Denise pursed her lips as they went down the stairs of the Bombay Coast hotel. Drai's was underground, of course. What better environment than a black-and-red lacquered basement-turned-nightclub to discuss selling her blood? She didn't know what Spade's plan was, but she didn't like it.

And when Denise got a good look at the people in Drai's, she really didn't like it. Almost a third of them were vampires. Their pale skin and too-graceful movements gave them away compared to the other patrons, even in the very low lighting.

She shuddered. Underground in a place filled with the undead. Possibly the drug-addicted undead, and here she was, with a narcotic fountain running through her veins. Oh yeah, a PTSD attack couldn't be too far off.

"Let's get a drink," Black Jack said.

Denise wasn't drinking anything here. It would probably come spiked with supernatural roofies, but when they got to the bar, she ordered a scotch to look polite. She hoped Black Jack wouldn't notice the level of liquid in her glass never went down.

Spade sipped his own scotch and exchanged absolutely pointless pleasantries with Black Jack for about ten minutes. It was enough to make Denise grind her teeth in frustration, which didn't help the panicked, claustrophobic feelings already rising in her. So many pale faces. Cool flesh all around her. Blood would follow. Death would follow. It always did.

Black Jack gave her a suspicious look. "You all right, missy? You smell awful nervous."

Denise tried harder to push back the memories, but they came faster than even her improved willpower could deal with. We're trapped. That terrible howling. All those screams. Something wet and thick on the kitchen floor...

"I don't think I can do this," she mumbled.

Spade began rubbing her shoulders with firm, soothing strokes. "There, darling, just relax. You'll get your fix soon."

Denise concentrated on the feel of his hands - strong, cool, and steady. They were her anchor while she kept trying to pull her mind out of the deadly quicksand of memories. It's all right. You're not there. You're not trapped. You're here, and Spade won't let anything happen to you.

"What's she hurtin' for?" Black Jack asked.

"OxyContin," Spade replied shortly. "Forgot it back at the hotel. Don't bother about it, she'll be fine."

"I might have some," Black Jack replied, and smiled. Even in Denise's state with reality battling memory, she noted his smile was like a shark's - all teeth, no humor.

"Yes, why don't we see what you've got?" Spade drew out meaningfully.

"Come to my office."

They followed Black Jack to a door in the back. It led to another flight of stairs, possibly a service entrance or a fire escape, from the looks of it. At the bottom was a short hallway with three doors. Black Jack took the first one on the left, holding it open so they could go inside, still grinning in that predatory way.

The last thing Denise wanted to do was go farther underground to a smaller space with even fewer exits, but she had no choice. She was breathing harder by the time she sat on the animal print sofa, and her heart was racing. Spade pulled her into his lap as if it was normal to them to sit that way, his strong fingers continuing to knead her neck and shoulders.

Denise clung to the feel of his hands as she pushed at her panic. It's okay. You're safe...and this has got to be the ugliest couch ever.

"So you think you have some Red Dragon to sell, huh?" Black Jack drawled. "Ante it up, then."

Spade leaned forward. "Not so fast. I said what I had was better than anything you had, but you haven't given me a sample yet to prove that, have you?"

Black Jack grunted. "If I hadn't already pocketed a lot of your money, I'd swear you were just lookin' for a free handout. You have yours with you?"

Denise tensed, but Spade didn't hesitate. "Yes."

"Alrighty, then." Black Jack opened a lower drawer on his desk, ruffled through it for a few seconds, and then pulled out a tiny dark vial. He handed it to Spade. "This is top-shelf Dragon, ten CCs. Goes for a grand at friend prices. If you have anything half as good, I'll cover your losses from the past two nights. If not, you pay me twice. Agreed?"

"Agreed."

Spade took it with one hand, still using the other to trace firm patterns across her shoulders. Denise almost held her breath as he popped the top on the vial and then tilted it to his mouth. What was he doing? Wouldn't that make him insane with hunger, as it had before?

Spade closed his eyes, swallowing. Her heart began to thump when he set the vial down and opened them. They were bright green...and fixated on her neck.

Then he turned to Black Jack. "You sell that shite for a grand? That's bloody robbery, in the most literal sense."

Black Jack's eyes went green as well. "Now you're insulting my business, pardner, and I don't take kindly to that."

"You'd take kindly to the idea of quadrupling your profits, wouldn't you?" Spade shot back. His hand slid down from Denise's shoulders to her arm. "Hand me a knife and I'll show you what I mean."

Her eyes widened. He couldn't intend to give him her blood, could he?

Black Jack looked both intrigued and annoyed as he pulled out what looked like a silver switchblade from his jacket. Spade flicked it open one-handed and then pricked her upper arm, tightening his grip when she would have pulled away.

"Don't," he said in an uncompromising tone.

Denise froze, but not because she was afraid of Spade doing anything to her if she refused. If he was so insistent on this course of action, he had to have a reason. I trust you, Denise thought, meeting his gaze and then relaxing her arm.

Spade held the knife, slanted, against the cut he'd just made. A drop of crimson pearled onto the blade. Spade took the knife away and then offered it to Black Jack.

"Taste."

The vampire laughed. "Is this some kind of joke?"

Spade didn't blink. "Do I look like I'm laughing?"

Black Jack gave another amused snort and then took the knife, licking the tip where her blood stained it.