“Okay, now that we’re alone, do you want to tell me . . . what the hell just happened?” Flint stalked to the bar, pouring two drinks, sliding one toward him and slamming his own down his throat.

Victor took his time walking over, trying to collect his thoughts as he went, but he was none the wiser by the time he arrived. His body still reacting to the scent of honey and wildflowers, sending him almost insane with the need to search and locate the owner. His cock twitching in reaction to his thoughts of the woman he knew belonged to the delectable aroma that he could still remember. In fact, it was ingrained in his senses. He’d never forget it. He’d be resuming his search in the morning, although where, or how he’d locate the female he wasn’t quite sure of. But that wouldn’t stop him. He had to find her, of that he was sure.

“I’ve no idea.” He shrugged, deciding he had to say something to his irate friend.

“What? What?” Flint’s voice rose several octaves, pouring another drink before his hands landed on the counter, leaning forward to glare across at him. “Are you having some kind of meltdown? Because I’m beginning to think there is something seriously wrong with you, Victor. Let’s start with you feeding and fucking your way through a bevy of humans earlier tonight . . . that’s something you’ve not done in centuries. Then, one minute you’re standing outside on the patio of your penthouse which means your fucking stories high from the street, and what do you do? You throw yourself over the edge and go flying down the side of the building like Spiderman and over into Central Park as if you’re hunting something that only you can smell. What the fuck is going on? Tell me before I lose my mind.”

“The first part . . . feeding.” Victor honestly couldn’t give the reason because the thirst he’d felt coursing through him was like nothing he’d encountered before. It had been insatiable, unstoppable and he’d had to force himself to stop before draining the last girl. If he’d been weaker, or younger, he dreaded to think of what might have happened. “I can’t describe what happened, Flint. It was a thirst inside that’s crept up on me these last few days. It’s not something I’ve experienced before and I have no words to explain it.”

“Shit, Vic, you’re scaring the shit out of me.” Flint ran a hand down his face. “You’re always in control. Always.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Victor snapped back harshly. His worry at his actions lapping at his belly, the blood from the humans now causing him to feel nauseous.

“What about your Spiderman antics? What the fuck were you thinking throwing yourself off the building like that?”

“A scent.” Victor stopped, the aroma filling his mind once again. Honey and wildflowers invading his every thought, his skin tingling painfully as if he had no right to be standing here. He should be out there looking for her. She was in danger . . . fuck. How did he know that? He wasn’t sure but he was certain that she was and he was standing there drinking expensive whisky and chatting in his luxurious penthouse while she was . . . hell, he had no idea. But he was certain she wasn’t safe, that much was for sure.

Flint’s voice seemed far away as his thoughts wandered to the woman he knew he had to find but his friend and bodyguard’s stringent tone rose, forcing him to pay attention. “Victor! Did you say a scent? A freaking smell sent you leaping over the side of the building? Are you nuts?”

“Yes, a scent, a tantalizing aroma that tore at me inside and I had to find her.” Victor shook his head, trying to clear it so he could focus. “I didn’t have a choice . . . I had to find her.”

Flint shook his head, stomping away to stride back and forth, his hands running through his hair as he ranted. “A smell and you just had to jump off the building to find a woman. Had you tearing over the road and through Central Park in the dead of night. And that’s after you fucked and fed from several humans at the damn club earlier. Shit, Victor, you’re really worrying the hell out of me. I’ve never heard anything like this kind of shit before . . . maybe we should speak to a Healer or something. What do you think?”

“No,” Victor replied firmly. He wasn’t allowing anyone near him. “No Healer and nobody else hears about this. Is that clear?”

“I think I can help.” The soft melodious voice of Nellie, his housekeeper of too many years to count, interrupted them.

They both spun toward her. The small, plump, elderly woman with grey hair stood in the hallway leading to the kitchen and her rooms right at the back. She held a cup of cocoa in her hands as she came toward them, her Fae heritage visible in her slightly pointed ears.

Flint spoke first, snapping. “You need to stop doing that, Nellie.”

“What?” she asked, deadpan.

“Sneaking up on us.”

“I did no sneaking, lad. You two woke me up with your shouting so I made myself some cocoa to help me get back to sleep.” She took a sip, looking over the top of the mug at them both. “I can’t help it if my Fae ears pick up everything you’re yelling about.”

“We’re not yelling,” Flint growled.

“I beg to differ,” Nellie replied. “To these,” she tapped her ears, “you’re shouting so loud it’s giving me a headache. But, that’s by the by. Usually I ignore you two and nothing that’s ever said within these walls is ever repeated. The point is, I heard enough that I think I can be of some assistance.”

Victor’s heart picked up speed at her words. Could it be possible that she was in a position to aid him? Or was he clutching at straws?

Flint stalked towards Nellie but she ignored him, her short legs taking her to the nearest sofa where she sat down, perching on the edge where Flint stopped to cross his arms and glare down at her. She stared up at him, arched an eyebrow and that was enough to send him backward a step or two before he asked her in a calmer voice. “You said you can help, so help.”

“I think my words were that I could be of some assistance.” Nellie ignored Flint, turning her gaze to Victor. “From what I overheard, I fear you’ve been struck with a Vampire’s Thirst.”

As soon as the words left her mouth his mind started to prickle, as if he’d heard the saying before but it was just out of his reach and he couldn’t quite catch onto the meaning. “And what is that . . . exactly.”

Flint’s hands flew up in the air, waving around dramatically. “Sounds like mumbo jumbo to me.”

Nellie shook her head, tutting at Flint before returning her attention to her employer. “It is no mumbo jumbo but it’s long been thought of as a myth. I’ve heard tell of it before and the signs are exactly what you’re experiencing. It happens to one who has had control for decades, centuries even, and suddenly they have this thirst where they crave blood and other desires to the point of losing control. Then they catch a scent and they must hunt the owner down, have to find them and . . .”

She stopped and Victor realized he’d made his way toward her. He now stood towering over her, hanging on every word dripping from her mouth. Barely restraining his power when all he wanted to do was reach down, grab her throat and shake the words out of her violently. What the hell? He stumbled back, shock coursing through him as he turned away, not wanting either of the two people present to witness the turmoil within him.

Too late.

Flint was the first to respond, his voice like broken glass as it cut through the silence. “What the hell is going on with you? You looked as if you were going to, fuck, I can’t even say what it looked like but it wasn’t good.”

Nellie was next, her words were calmer, as if she expected his crazy reaction. “It’s all right, Flint. It’s to be expected if it’s the Thirst that’s taken over him. He won’t be acting like himself. Not until he’s found her.”

“Her?” Victor spun around, clutching at that one word and ignoring all others, spitting it out quickly, viciously.

“Yes,” Nellie confirmed. “Her, the person whose scent that had you leaping off the building earlier and acting like a madman. It’s the only thing you’ll be able to think of until you find her. You’ll go crazy searching for her, literally. You won’t be able to concentrate on anything else. Your mind will not be able to—”

Flint cut in, his voice incredulous and full of disbelief as he stormed forward. “Nellie, you have to stop this. You’re making things worse and they’re already bad enough, what with Clarence Collins in the area, a rogue Wolf and Vampires he’s hunting. Hell’s fire, we don’t need anything else right now to bring the Directive’s attention down on us.”

Nellie shrugged, her eyes full of knowledge that Victor was desperate to have. “I can’t help that, Flint. I’m only giving you the information I have and the fact that it’s inconvenient is not my problem. However, if this isn’t dealt with things will go from bad to worse . . . Victor, your cravings will continue to grow and eventually you won’t be able to control them. That will most definitely bring the Directive to your door.”

“Nonsense,” Victor denied her, shaking his head curtly. “I’ve always had control. Always.”

He refused to voice his own concerns. The fact that he’d been fighting his urge to rush away and seek more blood, more women to sink his fangs and cock inside . . . to lose himself with their warmth and blood. No, he definitely would not admit that. Possibly not even to his closest friend. Even now his skin ached, his gums hurt, and his throat was parched with the need for warm blood to trickle down and ease the pain that was growing with each passing minute. Instead he strode over to the bar, poured himself a large whisky and downed it quickly. He didn’t taste it, the burn on the back of his throat the only sign anything had been ingested.

Damn, he wished he could eat food instead of only being able to drink damn alcohol. Maybe then he wouldn’t be feeling this . . . he didn’t have a word for it. Fuck. Yes, he did and Nellie had hit it right on the nail. Thirst. One that was raging through him like an inferno and only blood was going to put it out . . . he had to leave now! He had to go in search of a donor and quench this or he would go out of his mind. His body was betraying him for the first time in centuries and he was going to lose control. The one thing he prided himself of always having . . . control.

“Fuck!” He launched the crystal glass across the room, following it with his eyes as it flew toward the opposite side, smashing against the wall into smithereens. The lamps around the area catching the many shards like prisms, casting a rainbow of color around the area for a split second before the tiny fragments fell to the floor.

Flint looked at the broken glass then at him, mouth in a tight line as Nellie stood calmly saying. “I’ll go get the brush and clean that up.”

“Leave it,” Victor ground out. “It doesn’t require to be done right this second.”

Flint tilted his head to the side, scrutinizing him before turning his eyes on Nellie. “Okay, I think you need to expand on what you know and give it to us straight, because I think he’s in trouble.”

“I agree,” Nellie said firmly, her English accent growing more pronounced as she appeared to grow agitated. “This is not something that can be taken lightly and has to be addressed with the utmost importance.”

Victor heard the words but he couldn’t concentrate on them. His thoughts flitting away time and again to the feelings he’d experienced earlier when he’d fed on the human females. Their unique tastes lingering in his mind, on his tongue, in his throat . . . and they’d been so damn divine. He wondered if he called and offered the owner a handsome amount of money whether he’d be willing to provide him with several more for his own personal . . . what? No. What the hell was he thinking? He couldn’t go down that route. If he did his reputation would be ruined and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself from draining them dry.

Shit, he was sure he would drink every last drop and still crave more. Far more than they’d be able to provide because whatever was inside him was not normal. It was like nothing he’d ever encountered before and he was disgusted with himself as something alien snaked around inside his guts. Fear. He was scared. Not for himself. But for what he was capable of doing to others while these peculiar feelings ran riot through him.

“Victor!” Flint’s harsh shout tore through his brain, causing him to turn and snarl.

“What?”

“Have you even been listening? You totally spaced out.”

Victor turned his ice blue eyes to his housekeeper, the Fae with many decades of knowledge that might just be his saving grace. “Start at the beginning and tell me what I have to do.”