Dark Needs at Night's Edge

17

"How many men had you been with?" he finally asked.

"Do you really want to know?"

Conrad nodded, though he wasn't entirely sure. He was still grinding his teeth over her stripping off her clothes for crowds of men in the twenties.

"Less than a score and more than a single," she answered.

"Truthfully and completely," he reminded her.

"Very well. I'd had four lovers b the time I was twenty-six."

"That many?" He scowled, bristling about the fact that four men had known her body and he hadn't.

"Alas, that few." Though I would have had a legion more if birth control had been more reliable." She was so open about this subject, even seeming proud of her experience.

At least she has some, he thought darkly. His own was nonexistent. And worse—Néomi knew it.

He'd been a young thirteen when he'd made the vow to the Kapsliga, long before he'd been able to understand exactly what it would mean to him.

Unfortunately, he had other men's memories of sex. Not one among them was what he wanted to see, to experience—some made his skin crawl. He worked to block them out as soon as they arose... . "Is that why you broke it off with your fiancé? Because you didn't only want one lover?"

She shook her head. "I was tediously monogamous."

"Then why?"

"He hadn't done one thing specifically. But I always had a sense of disquiet about him. Regrettably, the only thing stronger than that was my need to have the very best. If there was another way to aim—except for the best, the most enviable—I didn't know of it. And Louis was the most eligible bachelor in the parish. He was extremely handsome, and the man had money—oil money."

A spike of some unfamiliar feeling hit his gut, settling there to burn. "So what happened with the oil man?"

"I knew I'd ignored my instincts about him for too long. And I'd realized that I didn't have to be married. Not to him, not to anyone. I was having too much fun on my own and doing just fine financially. So, after half a year of tempting him to marry me, I changed my mind. For Louis, that proved unforgivable."

"And how would a woman tempt a man to marry her?" Conrad asked, striving not to sound as intrigued as he was. He imagined her using her wiles on himself to get something, and the idea... excited him. He'd withhold whatever it was she wanted for as long as possible.

"I teased him. And then I didn't give him the milk for free."

Milk? "Ah. I see." At least she hadn't slept with the oil man.

"Vingt-et-un. I win," she said. "Now, tell me about the injury on your arm." When he hesitated, she added, "Any question whatsoever, truthfully and completely."

"Tarut, a Kapsliga demon, clawed me. It won't heal until he's dead." Conrad had been thinking that Tarut might be at that gathering. If Conrad could get free of these cuffs, he could go on the offensive and take the demon out.

"Why did he do that to you?" she asked.

"He thinks I should be dead—I disagree."

"How could he escape you? He must have been very strong."

"Tarut has a gang." Many demon species instinctively hunted in packs—Conrad would have to watch for them at the gathering as well. "Overall, demons are one of the strongest species in the Lore, and Tarut is older and powerful."

"How did you become an assassin?" she asked, the card game forgotten.

"I wanted the pay."

"Greed, Conrad?" she asked softly. "That doesn't seem like you."

"How would you know?" When she shrugged, he bit out, "I needed the pay. After the Kapsliga turned on me, I didn't know where to go or how to feed myself."

"Go on."

"They hunted me like a goddamned rabid wolf when I had no idea even how to survive as a vampire." Never had he been so weak, so bewildered. Half of his family had just died; the other half had become his enemies, and he was forever changed. "I was starving, and blood was everywhere I turned. Each night, I struggled not to drag a human down and feed."

"Then what happened?"

"Blood drawn from donors could be bought, but it was expensive. I stumbled upon a lucrative bounty for a shape-shifter, one that no one else would hunt."

"Why?"

"Because defeating a shapeshifter is a tricky thing. By the time you figure out how to contend with one form, they shift to another. I was exhausted from thirst, and the bastard roundly kicked my ass. Just when I was about to die, this new, overwhelming instinct took over." His fangs had sunk into the shifter's neck and blood rushed before his eyes and slid down his throat... . Lost...

"Conrad? Stay with me. Conrad!" When he finally faced her, she said, "You were talking about the instinct... "

"It was a vampire's instinct. It ruled me. I returned for the bounty with not only the shifter's head in a burlap bag but also his memories in my head. Suddenly I was in high demand."

She bit her bottom lip. "How many have you killed?"

"Countless. And then there were the targets I took out when I was human. I killed my first vampire when I was thirteen."

"So young? What was your life like as a human?"

"Most of it was horrifying, cold, and desperate. If the marauders didn't get you, the plague would. You didn't want to embrace a loved one who returned home because you didn't know if they'd brought death with them. We'd been rich—but there was no food or goods to buy."

"I'm sorry it was so hard for you and your family."

"That part's done with at least. What was yours like?"

"The opposite. For me, life was sensual, sultry, and passionate." Her eyes went dreamy. "I remember the throbbing heat of the French Quarter in summer. On every street, haunting music played. I frolicked in fountains and went jazzmad—which, incidentally, could be used as a successful legal defense in my time." She tilted her head at him, and her hair swayed over her pale shoulder. "I wonder what you would've thought about that time and place."

"It would have been alien to me. My culture worshipped the military and discipline."

"Mine worshipped jazz, hooch, and the relentless pursuit of pleasure. The warlord and the ballerina—as different as we can be."

"What did being a ballerina entail?"

"Performance after performance. Though I did like to play, when not on tour, I also trained six days a week without fail."

"I could tell. When I saw you dance."

"Ah, that's right. You witnessed it. The day before yesterday cracked up to be a bad day for Néomi, the lapdog."

He scowled but still asked, "Why are you so... patient with me? After the things I said?"

"Because I know you didn't mean them. And because I don't believe you're as bad as everyone thinks."

She had no idea. It would be best to end her flirting and playful looks of interest now. "Néomi, you have an idealized image of me in your mind. Let me make this plain for you. Less than two weeks ago, I killed a being, and I drank blood from his neck like a beast drinks from a gutter."

Wide-eyed, she said, "Well, that image certainly does dampen your attractiveness! But luckily you have a deep voice, which I like more than I should—so that neutralizes all that beast and gutter business."

He alternately liked and hated when she played as if she was attracted to him. "You make it sound so easy to dismiss."

"What's past is past, Conrad. Now you must learn from it and move on. If I'd had your mentality, I would always have been a burlesque dancer. I never would have aspired to being a ballerina, a profession that brought me great joy. Imagine all the things you're missing out on. Your Bride, a family, contentment. Unlike me, you can have a future—it's out there, just waiting for you to claim it. You have so much to look forward to, if you'd just stop looking back."

This was exactly what made her so dangerous to him—she did make him imagine all the things that could be. Such as having her as his Bride.

His dream... her doom. He shook his head hard. The curse couldn't touch her—even if it was real. She couldn't physically be harmed. But he still wanted to go on the offensive with Tarut. "Néomi, when my brothers come back, you have to get the key."

She gave him a mysterious shrug that said everything and nothing. "I'm tired, mon grand. I'm going to sleep."

He spoke French fluently. Mon grand meant my big man. A teasing term of affection.

"Where do you go?" When he'd searched the house for her, he'd seen that the master bedroom had a few spare pieces of furniture, but that wasn't where she went when she wasn't with him. She had to have a secret hiding place.

"Oh, here and there."

"Will you come back tomorrow?"

She sauntered over to him. "Honestly, vampire"—with a wave of her hand, she brushed his hair from his forehead—"if you stay charming like this, how will I ever be able to stay away?" With that, she disappeared.

But she was coming back. Because she couldn't help herself.

Suddenly Conrad found his lips curling.