This wasn’t about sex for the sake of pleasure; it was about sex to make baby vampires. Danneca had given birth three years ago, but the boy had died two days after his fi rst birthday, leaving her heartbroken and the entire clan saddened. Children were rare for vampires, rarer still if the male wasn’t a born vampire or hadn’t imprinted on the female. Hell, that was an understatement. Hunter had been sowing his seed for more than two centuries, and only three females had gotten with child.
Two females had died during childbirth, his son and daughter with them. The third female had survived, but the child, a boy, hadn’t. Since then, he’d sworn to always have a midwife available, even if the midwife had to be borrowed from another clan because f**king poachers had killed MoonBound’s.
The memory brought a growl up from deep inside Hunter’s chest. He’d found the human poachers and torn them apart. Afterward, he’d burned their trophies—vampire fangs, organs, blood, and bones earmarked for sale on the black market.
Human scum.
Danneca swung her legs off the pallet and stood, her voluptuous body drawing his gaze. She wasn’t as pretty as her sister, but her curvy figure and quick mind more than made up for it.
“Come to bed,” she said, holding out her hand.
“We’ll even help you out of those jeans.”
He looked down at the unbuttoned fly, behind which was a tool he put to frequent use but which didn’t want to play today. He couldn’t even care enough to behumiliated, and when a pounding on t he door sent both females scurrying under the covers, he breathed a sigh of relief.
“Hunt.” Riker’s deep voice boomed from behind
the heavy oak door. “We have trouble.”
“What else is new?” he muttered. He scooped up the females’ robes and tossed them to the bed. “Sorry, girls, we’ll have to do this another time. Let yourselves out the back way.”
Hunter shoved open the bedroom door, not bothering to throw on a shirt or shoes. Riker was in the office, shirtless, his body streaked with dirt, his jeans torn and bloody. In other words, it was business as usual for a guy who mixed it up with poachers and hunters whenever he could. What wasn’t business as usual was how Riker was splashing whiskey into two highball glasses. Rike was more of a beer guy.
“No, really,” Hunter said wryly, “help yourself.”
Riker tossed back the contents of one of the glasses and poured another. “Thanks.”
Hunter ambled over and snagged the second glass off the desk. He had a hunch he’d need it. “So what’s the trouble?” He swirled the liquor, letting the heady fumes scour away the lingering softer scent of the females. “Tell me you caught the human.”
“Of course I did.” Riker shoved his hand through his hair. “I also ran into a ShadowSpawn scout party. They have Lucy.”
An instant, hot rage sizzled through Hunter’s veins.
Lucy might have the body of a teen and enough years on her to be an adult ten times over, but she had the wits and innocence of a child. He squeezed the glass so hard a crack popped under his palm. If anyone touched a hair on her head, Hunter would skin the bastard alive and leave the body to the scavengers.
“And?” he ground out.
“And they won’t give her back until their midwife is returned.”
“Son of a . . . f**k.” Hunter hurled his glass at the wall, shattering it into a million pieces that clink ed on the floor as they fell. He gave himself to the count of three to calm down and stop wasting energy on impotent fury. He was a leader, and whether he liked it or not, he had to act like one. “Did the human give you any problems?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle, and I got some interesting intel from her. New vampire weapon made of boric acid. Turns out that if we breathe it, we melt from the inside and explode.”
Hunter stared. “Seriously?”
“No,” Riker said with a shrug. “But it feels like it.
It kills, and trust me, it’s some nasty shit.”
Just when Hunter thought humans couldn’t sink any lower. He really needed to stop underestimating their knack for cruelty. “I’ll call the senior warriors together. You can go over everything at the meeting.
Where’s the human right now?”
“I left her in the lab with Grant. She’s got a doctorate in vampire physiology. Figured Grant might want to pick her brains.”
“When he’s done, I want her,” Hunter said, and he didn’t like the way Riker stiffened. “Don’t get attached, Rike. When we’ve gotten what we want from her, you need to get rid of her.”
“kill her, you mean.”
“We’re not in the habit of letting humans live.
She’s seen too much. You know that.” He didn’t give the other male a chance to either argue or agree. “I changed my mind about waiting until Grant’s done.
Take ten to clean up, and then let’s go see your little vampire expert.”
---------------------------
“Did you know that the black walnut tree is the only plant that cannibalizes other plants?”
Nicole blinked at the vampire standing across the lab counter from her. “Um . . . no.”
“That’s because it’s not true.” The salt-and-pepper— haired male Riker had introduced as Grant lowered his head and peered through a microscope lens at a clear drop of liquid. “They can kill many species of plants within up to eighty feet, but they don’t cannibalize.”
She rubbed her arms and wondered where the thermostat was. The surprisingly sophisticated lab was freezing. “Then why did you say it?”
“Say what?”
“About the walnut tree.”
Grant looked up, confusion flashing in his pewter eyes. “I didn’t talk about a walnut tree.”
How did this guy run a lab? Riker had warned her, but ugh. “So Riker said you were a microbiologist before you were turned.”
“Yes.” He moved over to a hematology analyzer and checked the readout. How did vampires get equipment like that, anyway? He even wore a white lab coat, although the professional appearance was ruined by a crimson tank top that clung to every honed muscle and butt-defining orange and black Oregon State University sweats. In college, he must have been the poster boy for sexy geeks. “And it was a black walnut tree.”
He might be handsome as hell, but he wasn’t the easiest guy to talk to. “Where did you work?”
“At Daedalus. Their Albuquerque facility.”
She drew a sharp breath. Was he aware that Daedalus was her company? “That’s the main blood-packaging plant.” The general consensus within Daedalus was that only the weirdos and people the company wanted out of the way worked at the facility. Nicknamed “Dracula
Diner,” the plant was where blood, drained from the corpses of deceased humans, was sent to be processed and bottled as vampire food.
By law, all humans in the United States must donate their blood after death. Organ donation was still a matter of choice. Nicole had always thought it was strange that humans were required to feed vampires but not to save the lives of fellow humans.
Grant glanced over his shoulder at her. “You know of the Dracula Diner?”
Intimately. “I, uh, work for Daedalus, too.”
“Ah. Horrible people.”
Well, this was awkward. “Did you think they were horrible when you were human and working for them?”
His smile was as chilly as the room and way too fangy for her liking. Not at all like when Riker smiled.
His fangs were sort of . . . don’t think it. Do. Not. Think. It. Riker’s fangs were not sexy.
“Of course I didn’t think that. I was a brainwashed fool with my own vampire slave.” Grant measured a small amount of reddish liquid with a dropper and added it to a test tube containing white powder. “I met the CEO once. William Martin. Fawned all over him like he was a rock star or something. Practically pissed myself like a puppy welcoming his master home. Now I’d like to rip out his heart with my teeth.”
“Someone beat you to it,” she said, hoping Grant didn’t notice the hitch in her voice.
“He’s dead? Ah, yes, I remember now. Him and his entire family.” He shrugged. “I hope they died in agony.”
Bastard. “I’m sure they did.”
Grant’s broad grin gave him boyish dimples and softened his square jaw. “You think?” After a moment, he frowned a little. “Though someone recently mentioned a daughter who survived. There’s still hope that one of us will kill her.”
So this was what it felt like to be a mouse in a python tank. “Everyone needs a dream, I guess.”
“Agreed.” He positively beamed. “Humans are usually worth only the price of their blood. But I like you.”
“Um . . . thanks?” She eyed the layout of the equipment in front of him as he poured a quarter of the contents of a blue liquid into a flask half full of pink liquid. “What are you doing, anyway?”
He held the now purplish mixture up to the light.
“I’m mixing kool-Aid flavors to find the best-tasting combination.”
She arched an eyebrow. kool-Aid? He definitely wasn’t firing on all cylinders. Did his clan shove him into this lab to keep him out of the way? She wandered around, stopping at a corkboard covered with papers about vampire physiology, equations scribbled on index cards, and a photo of two male vampires, one blond and backed up against a tree, the other pressed against him, his reddish-brown hair falling forward to frame them both as their foreheads touched.
The intimacy of the photo took her breath away.
She’d never been in a position like that, had never experienced a secret moment that defined a relationship as something to be treasured. She’d had lovers, but she’d never loved. Not like that.
“What’s this?”
Grant wandered over. “Ah, Takis and Aiden.” He touched his finger to the photo. “They’re g*y.”
“Yeah, I guessed that.”
He sighed. “Once a month, they have to feed from females. You know about that, I assume?”
“Of course,” she replied. “On the eve of every full moon, male vampires must feed from female vampires, and on the new moon, the opposite takes place.”
“Exactly. I’m trying to find a way around that for them.”
She’d never considered the problems homosexual vampires would face. “I’ve hypothesized that the feeding is a biological imperative, sort of heat cycles for both sexes. Because vampires don’t conceive easily or often, it’s like a way to make sure vampires get together.”
He nodded. “Most vampires mate during the feeding. The opposite sex’s blood is an aphrodisiac to vampires. Aiden and Takis would prefer to spend the nights of the full moon together instead of with females.”
“The most obvious solution would be to package female blood and let them drink it that way on the full moon.”
Grant’s lip curled in disgust. “The way humans feed their vampire slaves?”
It was possible that this could get more awkward, but she didn’t see how. “Yeah. Like that.”
A hiss sifted out from between his teeth. “Humiliating. No one feeds that way by choice. Human
blood from little packages is one thing. Vampire blood
in juice boxes is another.” He turned to her, his deep— set eyes shadowed with irritation. “Have you ever seen vampires after they’ve fed from damned juice boxes of moon blood? Have you witnessed the hour of misery afterward as their bodies cramp from a lack of sexual release? Self-gratification only helps so much.”
Yes, she’d seen their misery, which was why Daedalus now recommended that humans kept at least two slaves, one of each sex, or that they arrange for a partner once a month for a single slave. Packaged vampire blood kept them healthy, but without a sexual partner, recovery was much slower.
An unbidden image of Riker feeding from a female vampire flashed in her head. He was naked, his muscular body moving against the female in powerful surges. Did he have a regular partner, or did he feed from a variety of females? And why the hell did she care?
She cleared her throat. “We’ve found that a biological reaction takes place during the full-and new-moon feedings that, when combined with intercourse, causes a slight change in the body chemistry of both the male and the female, making conception far more likely than with intercourse at any other time of the month.”
“Yes! Finally, someone who gets it.” Grant threw up his hands. “That’s what I’ve found as well. The key, I believe, is in the hormones and pheromones, which explains why, even if a vampire feeds from a vampire of the opposite sex during a moon phase and then has sex with a human, it doesn’t completely alleviate the pain.”
She studied the board. “Have you tried isolating the VR- enzyme? I’ve seen preliminary lab results that suggest giving extra VR- with a moon feeding can reduce the discomfort in males.”
“Tried that.” Grant sighed. “But the quantities required to cut the discomfort even by half cause undesirable side effects.”
“Like what?”
“Uncontrollable rage and bloodlust. Aiden nearly killed Takis after a strong dose.”
Interesting. Two years ago, she’d written a paper about the causes of irreversible bloodlust among vampires, and she’d theorized that the VR- enzyme might be responsible, although she didn’t know exactly how.
Now she wondered if, perhaps, an unnatural buildup from feeding could play a part.
“Do you mind if I look through your notes sometime?” she asked, and then chastised herself for being a fool. She and Grant weren’t colleagues. She didn’t work here or live here, and he wanted Nicole Martin dead.