She knew it. Her hunch had been right. It was somebody within Scanguards, just like she’d suspected. Amaury and his friends had to be involved. “What does he look like?”

“Ordinary. Tall, dark.”

Amaury was tall and dark, but he sure wasn’t ordinary.

“That’s not very helpful. I think you’ll have to come with me to identify him tomorrow night.”

Benny tried to wriggle free from her grip, but she held on. His protest was instant. “No way. I’ll be a dead man if I do.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Nina felt her strength seeping from her. She didn’t have any more time, otherwise he’d turn the tables on her. “Tomorrow,” she promised, before she pushed him to the floor and rushed out the door.

She sprinted down the stairs and out the building, ducking into the next dark doorway to catch her breath. Clutching her ribs, she inhaled and felt the sting of her lungs brushing against the bruised bones. The cut on her arm was still bleeding. Nothing Amaury couldn’t fix for her, but she wasn’t going back to him.

He might not have sent the vampires after her, but one of his friends or colleagues had. They were all working together. Just because Amaury might not have been involved in every detail didn’t mean he wasn’t ultimately to blame.

He was the enemy.

The realization hit her harder than expected. Before, she’d only suspected him of being involved; now there was more certainty in her assumptions. Scanguards was definitely involved, which meant, Amaury was involved. Had he fooled her all along and played the passionate and caring rescuer to pursue his agenda? But why? He’d had every opportunity to kill her, yet he’d defended her instead. Why?

With her last ounce of strength she made it home. The one room apartment was located in Chinatown. It was dark and small. She kept it as clean as she could, but even the cleanliness couldn’t distract from the fact that the place was shabby. The furniture was old and worn, a mishmash of styles and eras, but she didn’t care.

This was better than the foster homes she’d lived in as a teenager. At least she was alone. Nobody would come to her room at night. Nobody would watch her. Nina banned the memories from her mind. She had survived. It was all that mattered.

She shut the door behind her and set the chain. After pulling off her shoes, she collapsed onto the bed. She was too exhausted to get up to the fridge to pull out the ice tray for an icepack. Instead she turned her face to the picture on the nightstand. A young man grinned back at her, his dimples deep, his sandy hair shaggy.

“Oh, Eddie, I’m all alone. What am I gonna do?”

When tears formed in her eyes, she let them come. In the safety of her own four walls she allowed herself a moment of weakness, hoping the tears would wash away her pain and loneliness, yet knowing they wouldn’t.

Nine

Whenever Amaury needed to think, he cooked. The activity relaxed him. Of course, he could never eat the dishes he prepared, but that was beside the point. He had a lot of thinking to do, so he decided on French cuisine.

He had no idea why Nina had run out on him. For any other man this would be a common occurrence since no man ever really knew what a woman was thinking or feeling anyway. But Amaury always knew what everybody was feeling, so of all people he should have known what she felt. Only, for whatever reason, he was unable to sense her emotions.

This had never happened before.

Just like the night when she’d kissed him, he had at first not even noticed the absence of emotions bombarding him. During the street fight, he had felt the determination of the two vampires to kill her, and his reaction to save her had been automatic. While he’d carried her to his apartment and then taken care of her wounds, he’d been so overwhelmed by the effect she had on his body, he hadn’t noticed anything else. Not even the fact that his head was clear of any foreign emotions. And he hadn’t even had sex with her.

Unfortunately.

Amaury threw a twig of thyme into the broth-and-wine-mixture which he’d already poured over the skinned chicken legs and breasts. The familiar smell of coq au vin wafted into his nose, and he drank it in. What he’d give for a nice meal, tasting a juicy steak again, or an aromatic casserole.

He closed the lid and set the burner to simmer. As he proceeded to arrange the sliced potatoes neatly into a dish to prepare a gratin, he turned his thoughts back to Nina.

He was still hard just thinking of how sweet her blood had tasted and how soft her skin had felt under his kisses. While he’d touched and kissed many human women in his time, none knew what he was. If they did, they would have never responded to him.