I blinked, and the image shattered. But not the desire.
I suddenly wondered if he were an emo vampire. Emos lived off emotion rather than blood, and they had the ability to augment the stronger emotions for their own feeding pleasure. A nightclub servicing the hungers of others would certainly be a perfect feeding ground for an emo vamp - and it would also explain my unusual reaction. I made a mental note to check his background when I got back to the Directorate.
He offered me a piece of paper. On it was Gateway's address. He lived close, meaning I might as well go see if he was home before I went that way myself. I folded the paper and shoved it into the back pocket of my jeans. "I don't suppose you have security cameras here, do you?"
"Regretfully, no. My patrons prefer not to have their exploits captured." He paused, mouth curving seductively. "What about you, Ms. Jenson? Do you like having your conquests recorded for future pleasure?"
"I prefer my pleasures to be of the moment," I said. Then, as the spark of desire burned deeper in his eyes, I added hastily, "Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Starke."
"Any time, sweet lady. Anytime."
I snorted and got the hell out of there. The brightness of the sun had my eyes watering after the gloom of the club, and I blinked several tears away and took a deep breath, clearing my lungs of the last vestiges of blood, desperation, and luscious vampire. Then I spun on my heel and headed for the parking lot.
Cole and his team had already left, and although the blue police tape still lined the lot, there were no cops guarding the perimeter. Obviously, Cole had gotten everything he needed and someone had simply forgotten to take, down the tape.
I climbed into my car and typed Gateway's address into the onboard computer. He only lived a few streets away, so it didn't take me long to get there.
Gateway's house, like so many others in this area, had a run-down, grungy façade. But the little strip of grass between the footpath and the roadside was neatly trimmed, and there were cheery geraniums lining the front fence. He obviously had a little more pride in his surroundings than was usual for this area.
I slammed the car door closed and made my way to the house. There was no bell so I knocked instead, my knuckles shaking loose several layers of dust as the sound echoed. I waited several minutes, then knocked again. The only response was the barking of a dog from the far end of the house. I wrapped my fingers around the knob and tried to turn it. The door was locked and I had no real reason to break into the house - although that had never stopped me before. But breaking in would mean more paperwork, and I really didn't have the energy for that right now. I'd have to come back later - or go back to the club to catch him there. Which wasn't something I wanted to do, despite the excited response from my pulse.
As I started walking back to the car, the dog's barking became more frantic. It wasn't the 'get away from here, this is my place' bark that canines all over the world used when strangers came to the door. It was more the 'something's wrong, I need help' type of bark.
Curiosity stirred. I stepped across the little garden bed and peered into the front window. The room beyond was a bedroom, but one that hadn't been slept in often if the dust coating the stacked pillows was anything to go by. The bedroom door was open, but I couldn't see much more than the shadows of a hallway.
There was a small metal gate to the right of the house, so I pushed that open and walked down the side. Several windows lined this section of the building, but the curtains were all securely closed. No surprise, given the owner was a vampire. The barking got louder as I neared the end of the old house. As I rounded a corner, a little white and brown terrier made a dash for my feet, nipped at my shoelaces, then raced back to the door. He mightn't be able to talk, but he was doing his best to tell me something was seriously wrong inside.
I peered through a window, but I couldn't see anything more than a washing machine that had walked half-way across the tiles and, beyond that, a basket half filled with clothes. I flared my nostrils, drawing in the air, sorting through all the different aromas. Again, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
And yet the little dog was frantic.
I scooped him up and held him one-handed, then opened the screen door and tested the door handle. Like the front door, it was locked. A punch in the sweet spot just above the lock soon fixed that, but as the door swung open, the smell hit.
Something was dead inside.
Or someone, given the terrier's reaction. He had relaxed a bit now that I was holding him, but I could still feel the tension in his little body.
I walked around the wayward washing machine. A clock ticked softly in the silence and the air was warm - a fact which wouldn't have helped preserve whoever was dead.
The small hallway beyond was shadowed. There was a toilet to the left and an open doorway to the right. The source of the smell also seemed to be coming from that way.
The terrier started wriggling as I walked into the large kitchen-dining area. I gripped him a little tighter, not wanting him to shake himself loose and disturb whatever evidence there was to be found.
Sunlight streamed in from the window above the sink, lifting the gloom. A small table had been set for breakfast - which for this vampire was a packet of synth blood that now smelled off, and a cup of coffee that had long gone cold. The fridge held milk and more synth blood. Obviously, Gateway wasn't servicing enough customers at Dante's to keep himself fed.
I closed the fridge door then followed my nose, and found Gateway's body sprawled stomach down in the hallway. He was barefoot and wearing a towel around his middle, suggesting he'd just come out of the shower. His skin was pale and his body lean, his ribs and spine clearly evident. My gaze rose further and my stomach sank. Someone had separated his head from his neck, and the blood had pooled around his head like a dark, dried out halo.
Which meant there'd be no ghost hanging about to help.
I swore softly and spun around, walking back to the kitchen and closing the door behind me before releasing the little terrier and dragging out my phone. As the little dog whined and scratched at the door, I called my boss.
"Riley," Jack said. "How goes the investigation?"
"No one saw anything, no one heard anything, and no one knows anything. And unfortunately, we have another beheaded vampire on our hands."
He swore softly. "Where?"
"In a house a few streets away from Starke's club. The victim's name is Henry Gateway, and he's been dead for a couple of days, if the dried blood is anything to go by."
Jack paused. "I don't know him."
Something in the way he said that prickled my instincts. Jack might not know him personally, but he knew him. So why wouldn't he say that?
"He serviced blood whores at Dante's."
Jack snorted. "Now, if there's one vampire I wouldn't mind seeing dead, it's that bastard."
"You know Starke?" It surprised me, although I'm not entirely sure why. Maybe it was just the fact that Starke didn't seem like the sort of vampire that would normally come under Directorate scrutiny. But I didn't know a whole lot about vampire society or how they socialized, so they very easily could have known each other on another level.
"He has a long history of seducing women and running less than stellar establishments," Jack said, distaste evident in his gravelly tones. "I'm actually surprised someone hasn't taken his head. It'd make more sense than focusing on those who work for him."
"So he really is a blood vampire?"
"Yes." Jack paused. "Why?"
"Because he has some mighty powerful vamp mojo happening. Enough that I wondered if he was another emo vamp."
Jack snorted. "He's not an emo, but he's gifted with what we call a sexual glamor. Combine it with his looks, and he could seduce a brick wall if he put his mind to it." He paused. "He didn't succeed with you, did he?"
"No, but someone could have had the decency to warn me."
"Sorry. It didn't even cross my mind that you'd have problems."
"Jack, I'm a werewolf. Sex is like food to us." And he was just lucky that Quinn was keeping me well fed. "Anyway, according to Starke, Gateway claimed to have stumbled upon a beheaded vamp several days ago, but the sun destroyed any possible evidence before anyone could get there to confirm it."
"He should have notified us."
I didn't bother replying. What should have happened and what did happen were often two very different things. Especially when dealing with vampires.
"Three beheadings in as many days," Jack continued. "This is not good."
"No." We had trouble enough with the vampire population. We didn't need them getting antsy about some crackpot running around lopping heads off. "You don't think we've got a new anti-vampire gang on the loose, do you?"
"It's entirely possible," Jack said, voice weary. "But there's been no whisper of such a gang in action."
"There soon will, be if they keep up at this rate."
"If they keep up at this rate, we'll have more than a gang to worry about."
Yeah, like vampires forming vigilante gangs of their own. It had happened once before - thankfully well before my time at the Directorate - but I'd heard the whispers about it and had seen the photographs of the resulting riots. It had damn near erupted into a race war, and from what I'd heard, it was only luck - and a whole lot of tough talking from Director Hunter - that had stopped a bloodbath.
"Has Cole gotten back to headquarters?"
"No. He's still en route. I'll redirect him."
"You want me to wait?"
He hesitated. "No. Finish your investigations, then go catch some sleep. I want the report on my desk by five, though."
Meaning I'd better do it before I went to sleep, because unless there was another death, I fully intended to sleep well past five. "Do you think someone is trying to get back at Starke through his employees?"
"I certainly hope so, because the other option is not one I want to contemplate."
Especially given the unrest already out there in the vampire community. "Then Cole's fast-tracking his report on this one?"
"Yes. It'll be ready by eight tonight."
So much for Cole heading back to his warm bed and his waiting lover. "I'll be in at eight, then."
I hung up, then scooped up the still-whining terrier and stepped back into the hallway. My nose wrinkled as the scent of rotting flesh wrapped around me, but I didn't bother trying to breathe through my mouth. I needed to explore the scents in this place. Besides, past experience told me it wouldn't help anyway. I stepped past his body and investigated the other rooms. Beside the dust that littered the basin and shelf, there were dirty clothes on the bathroom floor and a dog-eared toothbrush sitting on the sink, complete with a shiny strip of blue toothpaste. He'd obviously been about to brush his teeth when he'd been interrupted. I sucked in the flavorsome air, sorting through the undercurrents, finding the dankness of mold and something else. Something that was too nebulous to define, and yet oddly seemed out of place.
Frowning, I spun around and headed for the room opposite. It was a living room, and though sparsely furnished, it was obviously where Gateway spent most of his time. There were newspapers stacked beside the sofa and remotes neatly lined up on the stained coffee table. The rest of the room was surprisingly tidy. There wasn't even dust on the top of the TV, which isn't something I could claim in my own apartment. I swept aside the curtains to check the window locks, but again they were intact.
Which left me with the bedrooms.
I was walking towards the front rooms when the little dog suddenly began barking. I jumped slightly and glanced at the door as a shadow loomed. But as I reached for the door handle, I felt it.
A familiar - and altogether unwelcome - tingling that ran across every sense, every fiber, setting them alight. Setting my soul afire.
There was only one man who had that effect on me.
My soul mate.
Kye.
Chapter Three
My hand froze against the door knob.
I didn't want to confront him. I didn't even want to see him.
I hadn't set eyes on him since he'd walked away six months ago, and if I never had to see him again, that would have been all right by me.
I might have spent most of my life longing for my soul mate, but the reality wasn't what I'd hoped for.
Kye was a killer for hire - a man who didn't care who employed him or who he had to kill. All that mattered to him was the money, the thrill of the chase, and the satisfaction of getting a job done as quickly and as efficiently as possible. He wasn't a man who wanted a wife or a family or entanglements of any kind. He was everything I didn't want in a soul mate.
But I couldn't deny that he was, or change the fact of it - no matter how much I might wish otherwise.
"Are you going to open the door or not, Riley?"
His voice was like a good red wine - rich and smooth - and it touched places deep inside that no one, not even Quinn, could reach. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, then complied.
He stood in a halo of sunshine, his golden skin glowing with warmth and the dark red of his hair running with brighter highlights. He was a golden man with chilling amber eyes set in a face that was handsome and yet uncaring.
But not unfeeling.
Because I could feel his hunger. I felt it rip through my body before it settled down low. It was a fierce and unwanted ache that had nothing to do with my heart's desire and everything to do with my werewolf soul. But while she had wanted this feeling, she didn't want this man. That made it a little easier to ignore the hunger.