"I'll buy you twenty pounds." Sam attacked the cup, drinking it down in a couple of swallows and scalding her tongue in the process. "Is there more?" When Chris nodded, she handed her the empty cup and tried not to whimper. "Please?"

Chris disappeared to get more coffee, and Sam crawled out of bed and went into Keri's bathroom. She ignored the hollow-eyed, banged-up woman in the mirror and sat down to pee for what felt like an hour. An image of her own sweat-slick hands gripping satin flickered through her head, and the tenderness between her legs and throbbing in her breasts backed it up.

I had sex with Lucan.

At some point last night she'd gotten completely soaked; her bra and panties were still damp. There were tiny cuts on her hands, probably from the flying glass, and dried blood. One hell of a knot under her hair, where one of the nutcases in the brown bathrobes had smacked her with the halberd's shaft. It was looking at the little nick on her right index finger that filled in the rest of the blanks.

Lucan has fangs. He's a vampire. She searched under her hair until she felt the two small puncture wounds on the side of her neck. I let him bite me.

"What did you do on your vacation, Sam?" she asked her toes, and then answered for them. "Oh, chased a snake-man, slugged it out with ax killers, and had mind-blowing sex with a thirsty vampire. Nothing special."

Lightning didn't shoot through the window to reduce her to ashes. The world didn't stop spinning. She didn't feel shame, or remorse, or even mild annoyance with herself. She wanted to go back. She wanted more.

Right after she chewed off Lucan's ear for letting her wake up alone in the strange bed.

Thirst and what felt like an oncoming fever made her strip and climb into the shower, where she turned on the cold spray and drank directly from it. She was so dry she thought she might start to swell up like a water balloon. It was the blood loss. If they were going somewhere with this… relationship? … his diet was probably going to be an issue.

We are very hungry, very sensory creatures, and you… you are a movable feast.

There was a strange logic to it, too. Lucan was a vampire who could kill with his hands; Sam could read the blood of murder victims with her hand. It couldn't be a coincidence.

It had been just as stupid for her to have sex with a material witness and potential suspect in two murder cases as it had been for him to jump in the sack with her, the cop investigating his ex-lover's murder. But the fight with the snake-man and the three bozos with the axes had torn down a lot of barriers between them. Making him take off his gloves to touch her… The warm water poured over her as she closed her eyes to remember.

Lucan's hands looked perfectly normal. It was when he started caressing her face with them that she realized the difference. Something happened every time his fingers and palms touched her; they created a strange, low hum beneath her skin. It had felt almost like being stroked by the velvet gloves, except the velvet had been charged with heat and some kind of weird energy. Then the hum had deepened, sinking into her, so that every touch on the outside echoed inside, flowing through her like silent music.

Sam didn't feel a scrap of shame about how she had offered herself to him. She couldn't help herself; she'd so badly wanted to feel that mysterious sensation on her breasts, and when she saw his reaction to touching her face she'd pulled off her T-shirt. As long as she stayed in control, she thought she could handle whatever he did to her.

Then he took over, and control ran shrieking out the door.

The things he'd done to her… taking her with those long, lethal fingers of his, putting them so deep inside her she'd thought she'd shake apart. When he added the refined torment of his mouth the hum had become a soft, insistent roar. She'd come all over him. As she tried to catch her breath, he'd dragged her half off the bed and demonstrated that his hands weren't his only instrument of torment.

Sam reached down and touched the lingering soreness between her legs. They'd been like a couple of teenagers; he'd barely gotten into her all the way before they'd both gone over. Lucky for her, because much more of that would have reduced her to a mindless, babbling love groupie.

You can take me.

Could she?

Sam turned off the shower, took a towel from the rack outside the curtain, and dried off. She wrapped the damp towel around her and stepped out, but had to whirl and drop down in front of the toilet as her stomach heaved and she brought up all the coffee and water she'd chugged.

"You guys must have partied hard." Chris was there, pulling her wet hair back and supporting her with an arm. It was so like what Garcia had done the day of Harry's funeral that Sam puked up the rest of what was left in her belly. "I got you. Bombs away."

When she finally sat back on her haunches, Chris handed her a washcloth to wipe her face.

The damp cloth felt good and cold against her burning face. "I need some clothes."

"On the bed," her neighbor replied. "I've never seen anyone with so many plain T-shirts and ugly suits, and that's all you have. You should splurge one time; get a striped skirt or a pair of tie-dyed shorts."

Sam trudged back into the bedroom and dressed. Chris stayed in the bathroom, evidently to preserve her modesty.

"I'm decent," she called out, wincing at the sound of her own voice as she pulled on her jacket.

Chris emerged. "Mrs. Quinn called while I was over raiding your closet. I told her you had the flu. Sounded better than a hangover."

"I don't have a hangover." What she had was a vampire for a lover, and a snake-man wreaking havoc through the streets of Fort Lauderdale. "I'm sorry Burke dumped me on you." She looked at the cup of coffee Chris held out to her. "No, I'd better not; my stomach's still a mess. Thanks for helping out."

"Next time I get wasted," Chris advised her, "I expect you be there to help me worship the porcelain goddess."

"I'm there." Sam had to get to a phone, find some aspirin, and decide how she felt about her new lover drinking her blood, but Chris was giving her an odd look. "What's wrong?"

"You and that tall, gorgeous guy, Lucan? You got together last night, right?" Chris grimaced. "I know, none of my business, but… did he get you drunk?"

"Sort of. What about it?"

"He didn't, like, force you or date-rape you, did he?" Before Sam could answer, she added, "Guys at bars can drop shit like roofies into your drink that make you go a little wild. But he can't do that and get away with it. You can't let him."

Considering the actual events of the night, Sam almost laughed, but Chris's concern and anger were genuine, and it touched her more than anything else the kid had done. "I was willing."

"But Keri said…" The younger girl looked ready to squirm now. "I know you're a dyke, Sam. I mean, it's cool with me that you are. You don't have to pretend. I don't think any less of you. I might freak out if you make a pass at me, but it's okay."

Other women at the department had made variations on Chris's speech, and Sam had ignored them. Most people took interest in someone's personal problems only so they could feel better about their own. But the kid had looked out for her, and she'd earned the right to hear the truth.

"I'm going to tell you this once and then we're going to drop it, okay?" When Chris nodded, Sam said, "I got drunk one night and ended up in bed with Keri. But as gorgeous and sexy as she is, I found out that being with her didn't do a damn thing for me." She pushed the damp hair back from her face. "It wasn't fair to pretend I did, either, so I broke it off with her right away."

Chris frowned. "The way she tells it, she makes it sound like you chickened out and went into denial. That as a cop you couldn't face coming out."

Was that how Keri thought about it? No wonder she'd been so pissy.

"I was never in, Chris. Maybe Keri thought I was, or she wanted me to be, but I'm not a lesbian." She rubbed her face. "I made a big mistake, and I've tried to apologize to her a million times. But she didn't do me any favors, either."

"She told me she went down to the police department and had it out with you in front of the other cops."

Sam tried hard not to remember the ugly scene. "She had a tantrum; I just tried to calm her down. Things got pretty loud. The fallout was that it affected a sexual-harassment complaint I had filed against another officer. He got away with what he did to me because that scene with Keri had everyone on the force thinking I was a gay woman with an ax to grind. A couple of weeks later, that same asshole nearly had me killed."

"God. That sucks."

Sam nodded. "I know I screwed up that night with Keri, but I think I've paid for it." She looked around until she spotted her keys, and picked them up. "I hate to puke and run, but I've got a million things to do. What kind of coffee do you drink?"

"Colombian Supreme," Chris said instantly. "Some glazed doughnuts would also be excellent. You know, to dunk."

Sam grinned. "You got it, kid."

Her first call when she got back to her own apartment was to Gloria Quinn, to apologize for running out on her. Harry's widow felt well enough to politely rip her head off about it, and then surprised Sam with the news that she had decided to go on the cruise she had planned for Harry's retirement.

"It's that or sit here with two patrolmen babysitting me until Harry's killer is caught," Gloria explained. "One of my friends from church lost her husband last year, so I invited her to go with me. What I want to know is that you're okay before I go."

"I'm okay."

"I mean it, Samantha." Gloria's tone was firm. "If you want me to stay, you could move in here for a few weeks. I'd love to have you, and the department might even consider that adequate protection for me."

"I know I was out of it, but I'm a lot better now." Not counting the head injury, the low-grade fever, or the fact that she'd fucked a vampire. "I think it's terrific that you're going on the cruise, and I know Harry would, too. Don't worry about me; I've got plenty to do here."