Dark Lover(60)

She tossed him the clicker. "Sure do. And if I remember, there's a Godzilla marathon on TBS tonight."

"Sweet," the vampire said, kicking his legs out. "I always root for the monster."

She smiled at him. "Me, too."





Chapter Twenty-two




Butch woke up because someone was driving a gutter spike into his head.

He cracked open one eye.

No, that was the phone ringing.

He picked up the receiver and put it in the vicinity of his ear. "Yeah?"

"Good morning, sunshine." Jose's voice brought back the spike.

"Time?" he croaked.

"Eleven o'clock. Thought you'd want to know that Beth just called here looking for you. She sounded okay."

Butch's body went limp with relief. "Guy?"

"Didn't mention him. But she did say she wanted to talk with you sometime today. I canceled the APB on her because she was calling from home."

Butch sat up.

And then lay right back down.

He wasn't going anywhere for a while.

"Not feeling too good," he muttered.

"I figured that. Which is why I told her you'd be tied up until this afternoon. Just so you know, I left your place at seven this morning."

Ah, Christ.

Butch tried the whole vertical thing again, forcing himself to stay upright. The room swam. He was still drunk as shit. And he had a hangover.

Talk about multitasking.

"Coining in now."

"I wouldn't do that. The captain's gunning for your ass. Internal Affairs showed up here asking about you and Billy Riddle."

"Riddle? Why?"

"Come on, Detective."

Yeah, he knew why.

"Listen, you're in no condition to run into the captain." Josh's voice was even, pragmatic. "You need to sober up. Get your shit together. Come in later. I'll cover for you."

"Thanks."

"And I left the aspirin next to the phone with a tall glass of water. Figured you weren't going to be able to make it to the coffeepot. Take three, turn your ringer off, and sleep. If anything exciting happens, I'll come and get you."

"I love you, honey."

"So buy me a mink and a nice pair of earrings for our anniversary."

"You got it."

He hung up the phone after two tries and closed his eyes. Just a little more sleep. And then he might feel like a human again.



Beth scribbled her last edit on a piece about a rash of identity thefts. The article looked like it was bleeding, it had so many corrections and she saw a trend setting in. Dick's big boys were getting sloppier and sloppier as they relied on her. And it wasn't just background mistakes; now they were making grammatical and structural errors. As if they'd never heard of the Chicago Manual of Style.

She didn't mind line editing when she was collaborating. As long as the person who'd drafted the article had done even a modest amount of proofreading.

Beth put the article in her out box and focused on her computer screen. She called up a file she'd been in and out of all day long.

Okay, what else did she want to know?

She reviewed her list of questions.

Will I be able to go outside during the day? How often will I have to feed? How long will I live?

Her fingers flew over the keyboard.

Who are you fighting?

And then, Do you have a.

What was that word? Shellan?

She typed wife instead.

God, she cringed at what Wrath's answer might be. And even if he didn't have one, who did he feed from?

And what would that feel like? To have him unleash his hunger on her?

She knew instinctively it would be the same as the sex. Half-savage. All-consuming. Probably leaving her bruised and weak.

As well as in a state of total bliss.

"Hard at work, Randall?" Dick drawled.

She changed screens so her e-mail account showed. "Always."

"You know, I heard a rumor about you."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Heard you went out with that homicide detective, O'Neal. Twice."

"So?"

Dick leaned over her desk. She was wearing a loose crew-neck shirt, so there was little for him to see. He straightened.

"So good job. Work a little magic on him. See what you can get. We could do a cover story on police brutality with him as the poster child. Keep this up, Randall, and I might be persuaded to promote you."

Dick sauntered off, obviously enjoying his role as dispenser of patronage.

What an ass.

Her phone rang, and she barked her name into the receiver.

There was a pause. "Mistress? Are you all right?"

The butler.

"Sorry-and yes, I'm fine." She put her head down on her free hand. After dealing with the likes of Wrath and Tohr, Dick's pasty version of male arrogance seemed absurd.

"If there's anything I can do…"

"No, no, I'm okay." She laughed. "It's nothing I haven't dealt with before."