“Not even I could get it up tonight, my lord. She’s safely ensconced downstairs.”
“And tomorrow night?”
“Not to worry. When I go after Klemens, it will be a vampires-only invitation.”
“You have plenty of blood for tonight?”
“Nick took care of it.”
“I’ll leave you to it, then. Cyn sends her love.”
“Somehow I doubt that.”
It was Raphael’s turn to laugh. “Be well, Lucas.”
“And you, Sire.”
Lucas disconnected and threw the phone onto the bar, then raised the warmed bag of blood to his lips and drank it down without pause. The third bag he’d been about to drink cold went into the still-hot bowl of water to warm. He took two more cold bags from the fridge and carried them into the bedroom to drink while he got ready. He’d be sleeping in his spare bedroom this morning. The day was likely to get ugly, and he didn’t want the mess or the memories in the place he usually slept. He had less than thirty minutes before sunrise. His number one priority had to be drinking as much blood as possible, even if that meant it had to be cold and tasteless. His body would need all the energy it could get to heal itself. But he desperately wanted a shower, too. He was covered in dirt and concrete dust, and who knew what kinds of crud lived in a building that old. The blood could warm in the hot water of his shower, and if he hurried, he could manage two more units after that.
But any way he looked at it, even with every ounce of blood in the fridge, it was going to be a long, fucking day.
Daniel ignored the now familiar sounds from the hallway outside the room. His tormentor—although that was probably too strong a word unless boredom could be considered torture—had returned for their nightly ritual. He assumed it was nightly anyway, because the man had a job to do, and as far as Daniel could tell, he was still doing it. He’d even shown up in his uniform once or twice. Night after night, he brought food and water, then sat and expressed his admiration for Dan’s work, even going so far as to bring some of his photographic books to drool over. Creepy didn’t begin to describe it. At least the woman he’d heard the other night had a practical reason for kidnapping him. She wanted money. Daniel would be happy to pay them as much as they wanted if they’d just let him out of this disgusting room.
He thought about how Kathryn had despaired of the mess he created in every room he lived or worked. He made a promise to whatever gods of order were listening that if they’d just get him out of this predicament, he’d be neat and tidy for the rest of his life. Or at least he’d try.
The door creaked open, bringing light with it as his captor flipped the switch in the hallway.
“Good evening, Daniel,” the freak said cheerfully, just as he did every night. As if he really believed they were somehow friends, and this was simply a pleasant evening’s diversion.
Dan didn’t respond, didn’t sit up, didn’t even look at the idiot. He lay on his uncomfortable bunk with one arm over his eyes and ignored him.
“I’ve brought you a steak sandwich this evening. Your favorite.”
“How the hell would you know?” Daniel muttered.
“Joanie at the coffee shop told me,” he said, sounding pleased, and Daniel cursed himself for asking the question.
“I brought you something else, too.”
The familiar clicking sound of a digital camera in burst mode had Daniel turning to look.
“What the fuck?” he demanded, jumping up and snatching the camera before his captor could grab it back. “That’s one of mine!”
“I know,” the creep said in a wounded tone. “Your sister left it all at the Sheriff’s Station for safekeeping. I had to sneak it out.”
“What do you mean left it? Where’d she go?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe she went home.”
Daniel’s heart sank at this bit of news, even though he told himself it couldn’t be true. For one thing, Kathryn would never have left his equipment behind if she was leaving for good. For another—and this was the important one—she would never have given up on him. Kathryn was the one constant in his life, the one who’d always been there for him. He had to remember that, to believe it. His captor was just fucking with his head, trying to make him believe he had no one left. This asshole must be the loneliest person in the world if he thought he could kidnap people and make them his friends. Stockholm Syndrome, my ass.
“Can I keep this?” Dan asked, sparing a quick glance at his kidnapper. Enough to see the man’s face light up at the question.
“Of course! That’s why I brought it to you. I apologize for not thinking of it sooner. It was completely thoughtless on my part.”
Jesus, this guy was pathetic. “Yeah, right. Okay. Can I have my dinner now?”
“Oh no, your steak! It must be cold. Should I microwave it or something?”
He wanted to zap steak? What a moron. But all he said was, “No, that’s okay. It’ll be fine.”
“You’re sure, because—”
“I said it’ll be fine.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll just get it from the kitchen then. Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Sure,” Daniel said, snapping a quick picture as his captor turned away to bring in the food, covering the small sound it made with his words. “That’d be nice.”
By the time his captor returned, the camera was lying on the bed. He noticed and frowned. “You want to be careful with that. Make sure you move it before the lights go off. You don’t want to sit on it or anything.”
“Yeah, about that. How about you leave the lights on so I can take some shots. Artsy stuff, you know,” he added with an inflection meant to flatter the freakazoid into thinking he and Dan shared an understanding of true art.
The nut job’s face lit up like Christmas. “That would be splendid!” He frowned as if having second thoughts, but said, “I suppose it can’t hurt to leave the light on for one day. But no more than that,” he scolded, as if addressing a child.
“Great,” Dan said, fighting the urge to tell this creep what he really thought.
“You’re welcome,” the nut job said primly, then settled down to watch Dan eat as he did every night. “Now, what shall we talk about tonight?”
Daniel didn’t answer. He found that the freak didn’t really want conversation. He mostly wanted someone to listen to his ramblings, and Dan was more interested in eating. His captor only brought food once a day, and Dan had discovered early on that the man’s mood was unpredictable. Some nights he lingered for hours, yammering about his life, his job, whatever tedious tidbits he could resurrect from his clearly deranged mind. Other nights, he grew impatient after only a few minutes, leaving Daniel with a half-finished meal and still hungry.
It seemed likely that tonight would be a long one, given the man’s excitement over the camera. But Daniel wasn’t taking any chances. He ate the cold steak, the tepid baked potato, even the broccoli, which he generally detested, because one of these nights, this asshole was going to slip up, and Dan would be ready.
Chapter Seventeen
Twin Cities, Minnesota
Lucas went directly from his bed to another hot shower when he woke after sunset. The day had been rugged, even worse than he’d expected. To call it sleep would be a gross misstatement. He’d been in excruciating pain for much of it, pain that had made the agony of being crushed by tons of debris pale in comparison. He’d woken covered in bloody sweat. The sheets had been soaked red, torn to shreds from his daytime thrashing. His body still ached from the memory of it, while at least a part of his mind kept waiting for it to begin again, not quite trusting that it was over. No human could have survived such torture and remained sane. Even Lucas had never experienced anything like it.
He wrapped a towel around his waist and crossed to the steam-fogged mirror, rubbing a spot clear. His beard was a dark shadow along his jaw. He needed to shave. On the other hand, he had a beautiful woman waiting for him. The choice was easy.
He dropped the towel as he headed out of the bathroom, aiming for his bedroom closet. The sound of a sucked in breath had him turning toward the door.
“Kathryn,” he said, unsurprised. He’d known she was in the penthouse. She wouldn’t have been allowed into the elevator, much less out of it, without his permission. The first thing Lucas had done on waking was call Nick, to assure him he had survived the day, and to tell him to admit Kathryn to the penthouse when she showed up. She’d arrived while he was still in the shower—he’d taken enough of her blood to sense her presence—and he’d been glad he’d had the foresight to close the door to the other bedroom where he’d spent the day. He didn’t want Kathryn to witness the evidence of his agonizing recovery.
He took in the welcome sight of her curves in a pair of faded jeans that clung and made him wish she’d turn around, so he could see the perfection of her denim-covered ass. Her feet were bare, her toenails polished in bright red. Like the underwear, a sexy side of his Kathryn that she hid from the world. But not from him. And speaking of underwear, or lack thereof, she was braless beneath a dark blue FBI T-shirt.
His perusal reached her face and found her eyes traveling up his body in turn, lingering, he was pleased to see, on his growing erection.
Lucas grinned. “Up here, a cuisle,” he drawled, tapping his chin.
Kathryn blushed right on schedule, but she met his gaze defiantly. “You appear remarkably healthy for a man who was crushed under a building less than twenty-four hours ago.”
“Ah, Katie mine,” he crooned, crossing over to her and tilting her stubborn chin up with a finger. “I keep telling you, I’m not a man. I’m a vampire.”
He lowered his mouth to hers. Their lips met with a spark of recognition, an almost electrical shock of instant desire. Kathryn’s mouth opened beneath his, and he swept his tongue past her soft lips in a lazy exploration that very quickly turned into something demanding and insistent. Lucas changed the angle of his kiss so he could go deeper, cupping the nape of her neck in a possessive grip, holding her in place as his other hand dropped to her lower back and tucked her up against his naked body. Kathryn moaned into his mouth, her strong hands sliding from his waist to his back, digging into his newly healed muscles as she demanded in turn. This heat between them was never one-way, it was two combustible elements coming together and creating a fire neither one could control.