First Drop of Crimson

They were certainly amazing. All the neon lights, crowds, noise, and the vibe along the Strip sent an almost palpable message that inhibitions didn't apply here. A play ground for grown-ups, she'd heard Vegas called, and the dazzling display of entertainment options, even at midnight, seemed to agree.

"What do you think?" Spade asked as they entered the Belaggio.

Denise shook her head. "Ask me later, when I'm less overwhelmed."

He gave her one of those sly smiles she'd come to enjoy far more than she should. If not for the seriousness of their objective tonight, she'd feel like she was on a date. A very, very extravagant date. Aside from their accommodations, Spade insisted on buying her a new dress, shoes, purse, and jewelry - all without letting her see any of the prices. It was her costume for tonight, he'd said with another of those grins. Granted, her new outfit was far more in line with Spade's Armani shirt and tailored pants. Hell, his watch probably cost more than her entire ensemble.

Yet Spade wore his clothes and accessories with elegant diffidence, without the superior attitude that usually accompanied someone with his bank account. Denise had dated a few rich guys before Randy, but most of them had seemed so impressed with themselves, they weren't interested in her except for sex or arm decoration. Spade, even under these pretend circumstances, was attentive and charming. Add that to his odd combination of gallantry, ruthlessness, and loyalty, and Denise's feelings were running well beyond physical attraction.

If only he wasn't a vampire, she thought. Then she gave herself a mental slap. If Spade wasn't a vampire, she wouldn't be here with him, because she'd needed a vampire's help to find Nathanial. She had to stop getting caught up in the illusion and focus on reality.

Spade led her past the entrance with the medley of slot machines, craps tables, and blackjack dealers to the back of the casino labeled Club Prive. Denise was amazed how the atmosphere seemed to change from gleeful hedonism to stylish avarice within the space of a few dozen feet.

After a polite exchange with the hostess, they went inside the gold-and-mulberry decorated room. It had several booths, servers hovering in attendance, and at least two games already in progress.

Spade gestured to the bar. "Order me a scotch, please. Won't be a moment."

Denise glanced at the window discreetly located in the corner. "You just don't want me to see how much money you're exchanging for chips, or I'll have a heart attack, right?"

He laughed. "Clever girl. But it's not all on your account. I find I'm feeling lucky tonight."

She could have read so much into that last sentence, accompanied as it was by a sinful curl to his mouth, but that was a road best left untraveled.

"I'll get your drink," Denise managed. And one for herself. A stiff one.

A few minutes later, Spade came back carrying a tray of different-colored chips. Denise had already finished her scotch, but decided against another one. As was customary for the date of anyone gambling, she'd be on her feet for a while tonight, standing behind Spade as he played. No need to invite swaying with too much alcohol.

Spade took her arm and then handed his drink to a waitress who seemed to appear by magic.

"Bring that to the table for me, would you? And keep them coming."

Spade pretended to study his hand in front of him, though he'd had his cards memorized at first glance. He was really concentrating on Madox, the player opposite him. The oil executive was good at hiding his tells, but he was still human. His pulse might remain admirably steady and he managed not to sweat, but his scent betrayed him. When he went all in on this hand, Madox's scent turned into a mixture of musk and rotten orange. Just like every other time he'd bluffed.

Madox's eyelids drifted lower, like he was bored enough to fall asleep while he waited to see if Spade folded or not.

Spade let out an extended sigh, as if wrestling with the decision. "What to do?" he mused out loud.

Behind him, he could feel Denise's tension increase until her aura almost crackled with anxiety. Her jasmine and honey scent had soured as well in the past two hours, watching him lose hand after hand. She didn't know he was losing deliberately to bait the other players. He hadn't told her because he needed her reaction to be genuine or it would have roused suspicion in the observant gamblers.

But to her credit, Denise remained silent, even though she must be inwardly screaming at him to fold his hand. Poor girl. With her conscience needled over every pound he spent, she must be ill at the quid he'd turned over to his opponents thus far.

Madox's overripe citrus scent increased, but he didn't so much as twitch as he waited for Spade to fold or call.

"Sod it, I'll go out with a bang," Spade declared, sliding his remaining chips into the center of the table. "I'm in."

Denise took in an audible breath. Madox smiled and flipped his cards up.

"Two pair, hearts. And you, Mr. Mortimer?"

Spade laid his cards on the table with a wolfish grin. "Straight flush, spades."

Acrid disappointment wafted off Madox. The onlookers around the table clapped as Spade claimed the large pile of chips. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Denise sag a little, her grip on the back of his chair lessening.

Spade turned, taking Denise's hand and kissing it. "There, darling. Told you I felt lucky tonight."

She let out a little snort, giving his hand a quick squeeze. Then Spade felt the energy in the room shift, filling with the unmistakable vibe of an undead. Spade let go of Denise's hand and turned casually toward the source.

A vampire met his gaze; either his power was cloaked as Spade's was, or he was a lower-level Master. Judging by appearance, he'd been in his thirties when he was changed. His hair was dark brown, slicked back in a style best left in the seventies, and his outfit was an expensive mistake.

From the way the waitresses greeted him, he was also a familiar sight. Spade inclined his head in acknowledgment, and then returned his attention to lining his chips back up in his tray. He would come over. The vampire had to be curious to meet the man who just fleeced one of the regulars.

"Evenin'" the vampire said, taking the seat Madox had just vacated. "Looks like you're short a player."

Spade made mental notes about the other vampire. Faint Southern accent. Probably younger than me in undead years, but not by too much. "We certainly are. I do hope you join us. I find I've got a second wind despite the late hour."

Behind him, Denise's scent changed. She must have recognized the newcomer as not being human, too. Spade didn't look away from the man's ice-blue eyes, waiting. If the vampire didn't want him in what he might consider his territory, now would be the time to make that known.

But the vampire just smiled. "I'd swear it was still early with how I feel. Deal me in, Jackie, and Sam, bring me a tray. My usual amount."

The dealer shuffled the cards while the manager produced a tray of chips. Two hundred thousand, Spade noted. Very respectable for a "usual" amount.

"I'm Henry," Spade said, using the name his room was registered under.

"BJ," the vampire replied, reaching out to take the cards expertly flung in front of him.

Spade took his as well, not letting any reaction show as he observed the pale fingers that wrapped around those cards. BJ's left pinky finger was missing, but on his right, he had a thick gold ring with "21" emblazoned in diamonds.

This had to be Black Jack. Ian, mate, I owe you one.

Spade leaned back, sliding his arm around Denise's waist. "You don't mind waiting for a while longer, do you, darling?"

Her body was more tense than normal and her feet had to be sore, standing there for two hours in high heels, but Denise didn't hesitate in her reply.

"Not at all. I love to see you play."

Spade almost laughed. With her frugal tendencies, Denise couldn't despise this more, but her tone was steady and confident. She even leaned down, brushing her lips across his throat.

"Maybe we could find something else to do after we're done here, because I'm not tired, either."

Her voice was raspy and seductive at the same time, a low purr that seemed to rub him from the inside out. He'd only heard it that way once before, when she'd moaned his name in Central Park as he drank from her. Combined with the silky, heated feel of lips on his skin, it was enough to make him pause when he was supposed to ante up in the new game. Spade wanted to hear her voice like that again. When they were in bed together.

Black Jack's eyes flicked with interest to Denise. Spade saw it and stopped himself before he bared his fangs in instinctive possessiveness. Instead he tossed in a few chips and ran his hand along Denise's side one more time, meeting the vampire's gaze in challenge. Mine.

Black Jack's lips curled and he tilted his head in acknowledgment. One of the strongest vampire urges was territorialism. No vampire would tolerate someone ogling his property - unless that property was being offered. Denise, Spade had clearly indicated, was not.

"King high, first bet to BJ," the dealer said.

Spade forced himself to relax. The goal was to put Black Jack at ease, not to threaten him over a simple glance. He'd forgotten how falling for someone affected him - the absence of normal control, the emotional highs and lows. It was more consuming than even the most potent dose of Red Dragon, in his opinion.

"Come on, mate, give me more luck," Spade said to the dealer as cards were passed out.

He could have sent the same request to Fate about Denise.

Chapter Seventeen

When Spade stood up, announcing wryly that he was done for the night, Denise was so relieved she could have cheered. If she had to watch him gamble away any more staggering amounts of money, she'd throw up. BJ, the vampire she desperately hoped was Black Jack, had beaten Spade three times in a row, the last one clearing out all Spade's chips. While she understood he had to appear as a high roller with a limitless budget, she also wanted to shake Spade. Couldn't he be a little smarter about his betting? Who went all in with only a full house consisting of threes and twos?

"Where you headed now?" BJ asked, lazily gathering up his winnings.

Spade turned to her, his hands sliding down her back. "Still not tired?"

It was four in the morning and she was about to pass out on her feet, but she nodded. "Night's not over until the sun's up."

"I couldn't agree more." Spade pulled her closer, leaning down to give her ear a light nip that made gooseflesh break out on her arms. "Except I'd rather spend the remaining hours in bed with you."

With his hands still tracing her back, their bodies close enough to slow dance, and his mouth hovering over her ear as he spoke, Denise thought the erotic shiver that ran through her was understandable. At least her reaction would look authentic to BJ, that was for sure.

"Don't you want to, um, have a little fun first?" Wasn't the goal to pump BJ for information, if he was indeed Black Jack?

Spade's laugh was a seductive caress. "Indeed. It's called foreplay."

Either Spade had to think she was the greatest actress ever, or he'd know the sudden race to her pulse and the low clench in her belly had nothing to do with BJ watching them.

"BJ, good to make your acquaintance," Spade said next, still holding her close. "Perhaps I'll see you tomorrow. I'll be back to recoup my losses."

"Well, then, I'll see you here," BJ drawled.

Denise's back was to BJ, so he couldn't see her expression, but she frowned at Spade. Why were they leaving? Wasn't this the guy?

"Come on, darling," Spade said, kissing her lightly on the lips.

Spade led her out of the club and toward the entrance. Even at this hour, the casino was still fairly busy.

It wasn't until after the hotel limo picked them up and they were in the private elevators of the Red Rock that Denise asked the question she'd been wondering for half an hour.

"Wasn't that him?"

Spade gave her a knowing look as the elevator reopened on their floor. "Oh, it was, no question."

"Well?" she prodded. "Then why did we leave?"

He held open the door to the suite, waiting until they were inside and he'd done a quick sweep of the place to answer.

"Because now our friend is curious, comfortable, and happy at the prospect of relieving me of more quid when we next meet," Spade replied.

"You should never have gone all in on that last hand," Denise muttered.

He chuckled. "My poor dear. You'll have nightmares over that for days, won't you?"

Denise shot him an exhausted look as she set her new shawl neatly on the red couch. Spade sauntered over, none of her weariness in his gait.

"Casinos love rich losers. I couldn't have them asking me to leave after a run of luck that was too good to be true. Now Black Jack believes me to be a bad gambler, which is what I want him to think."

Denise admired his coolly logical strategy even as she winced over what it had cost him. She hoped Spade recovered some of his losses tomorrow night, or she'd have to give him all of her 401(k).

"I'm washing my face and then passing out," she announced. "Which bed do you want?"

"I'll take the guest room. Have some things to look up on my mobile first, so if you hear the shower later, it's only me."

Denise didn't think anything short of clanging cymbals could wake her once she hit the bed, but about half an hour later, she'd just drifted off when she knew she wasn't alone in the bedroom.

She kept herself perfectly still, listening to the slow slide of Spade's zipper being drawn down on his pants, the brush of fabric against skin as he drew his shirt off, and then the sounds of him gathering up his discarded clothes. Suddenly that bone-deep lethargy was gone and she felt very awake. Imagining Spade so close, totally na**d, made her eyelids almost burn to open.