Oliver's Hunger

Oliver listened intently. Was it at all possible that it had happened exactly as she claimed? “Did nobody notice your escape?”

“I’m sure they did, but they were too late. I used the fire escape and ran until I bumped into you.”

He remembered all too well. Was that why she’d been so close to death, because she’d made that vampire drink excessive amounts of her blood? As he thought back to the moment he’d met her, he remembered hearing footsteps in the distance. He hadn’t waited to see who was approaching.

“They must have packed up when they realized that I escaped and couldn’t find me. They must have feared that I would bring somebody back to their hiding place.”

Oliver nodded slowly. “The building was looking a little too clean for that area. As if somebody had made sure to erase their tracks. Who was running the show?”

“I don’t know. Whoever he was, he never came to the floor where we lived and . . . where they fed off us. In fact I don’t think that even the guards knew who he was. I got the feeling that whoever was behind this was guarding his identity. And the guards were afraid of him.”

Oliver had to continue questioning her, not only because he needed to find out as much as possible, but also because he had to distract himself from his hunger. And the more she talked about blood, the more he wanted to sink his fangs into her. “What did you hear?”

“That any guard would be severely punished if a girl in his care died because he didn’t stop a leech from taking too much blood. The guards suspected that their boss had snitches in the building to make sure he knew what was going on at all times.”

The whole story still sounded bizarre. But why would she make it up? “Why only Chinese girls? Did the vampires have a preference?”

“I think it had something to do with our blood. Why would they only have about a dozen girls, when they could surely capture more in any big city? It made me think that what we have is rare. Maybe something genetic, maybe only something that is found in the blood of Chinese women.”

Blood. The word pulsed through his body. “Did they ever actually tell you that you had special blood?”

She shook her head. “Only indirectly.”

Oliver pursed his lips. “I don’t know, Ursula, your story is fantastic. But I have no way of verifying it.” He sighed. “I’ve been ordered to buy you a plane ticket and give you enough money to get home. Give me a reason to defy my orders. One tiny proof.”

Her breath suddenly hitched. “The money. Of course!” Then she put her hand on his arm, the contact sending a heat wave through his body, intensifying his hunger. “Oliver, wait, wait! I have proof!”

The way his name rolled off her lips made him hot all over.

“There’s more. How could I have forgotten? I managed to steal a wallet from one of the leeches when he and the guard were distracted.”

“Why didn’t you tell Zane that earlier?”

“Zane scared the hell out of me! I tried, but I couldn’t think straight with him glaring at me.”

Oliver frowned. “He has that effect on people.”

“So much happened in the last twenty-four hours. I just didn’t think.” When he gave her a questioning look, she continued, “I’d planned that if I ever managed to escape, I would use the money and credit cards in the wallet to get home. I hid it in my room. The name on the credit cards will lead us to one of the leeches. All you need to do is question him and you’ll know I’m telling the truth.”

He allowed the news to charge through his body, rejoicing silently, but then he sobered. “The building was completely empty. All the furniture is gone. So, wherever you hid it, the wallet is gone.” And therefore another possibility of trying to verify her story had vanished with it.

She shook her head. “No. It’s still there. I hid it underneath the floorboards. They wouldn’t have found it.”

“So you want me to drive you back there, is that it?” And damn it if he wasn’t just a tad bit curious as to whether she was right. No, it was more than that: he wanted her to be right. He wanted the story to be true. Because then he could prove his colleagues wrong and investigate further. And he wouldn’t have to wipe her memory and send her home. And then maybe, just maybe, whatever was brewing between them would have a chance to develop.

Ursula looked straight into his eyes, her gaze open and direct. “Yes. So I can prove to you that I’m not lying.”

The drive back to her former prison seemed long. Maybe it felt that way to her, because she was anxious about going back inside the place that she considered hell. Or perhaps she was afraid that against all odds her captors had found her hiding place and removed the wallet, leaving her empty handed.