"I ain't never been used to riches," Annabelle said, "so I'll be real easy to impress. Why, I expect a real mattress with some of them silk sheets and maybe a maid to clean up after me would be enough to make me happy. You look rich enough to manage that."
"When I wish it, yes." The thirst screamed through his body, but his will was stronger. "However, the value of what I offer you now is not measured in gold or possessions, but in life itself." He paused, admiring the innocent eagerness in her eyes. "Annabelle Rose, I offer you a future in which you may live by my side, undying and eternally young, until the world itself crumbles into dust."
Her musical laugh filled the room again. "Who are you, Jesus Christ?"
"No." He winced at the name, his breath hissing between his teeth.
"Oh, I'm sorry, honey." Annabelle sat up and pulled him into her arms. "I didn't mean no harm."
Glava drew the fresh scent of her skin into his lungs. "I know, my dear." He kissed her neck, feeling the pulse of her warm blood beneath his lips. Running his fingers through her hair, he brought his mouth to her ear. "My offer still stands. You can have immortality."
Her arms tightened around him. "I'll take it."
The vampire's golden eyes flashed. He brushed his lips across her neck, feeding his appetite with the taste of her sweat. It had been so long since he had tasted human blood sweetened with desire. Most of his victims were filled with fear and loathing, a flavor not without merit, but none the worse for a change. He could taste this woman's lust for his body and his promises on her skin.
Glava ran his fangs behind her ear, taking great care not to pierce the delicate skin. Annabelle giggled, running her hands along his exposed chest and stomach. Pressing his hand into her back, he held her body against his and tilted her head to one side. A sigh escaped her lips as his mouth closed on her neck.
Annabelle gasped, a confused sound born from pleasure and pain. Her sweet blood filled the vampire's mouth and seeped out from under his lips in tiny streams. He leaned into her body, pressing her down onto the bed. Her back arched slightly as the muscles in her arms and legs relaxed.
Soon, the warmth left her body, the last trickle flowing down his throat and into his limbs. Laying her down on the sheets, he brushed a stray wisp of hair from her face. She really was a beautiful woman. The warmth of her blood was pure ecstasy, twisting through his body like ropes of black lightning. His toes flexed as he closed his eyes. Even after centuries of unlife, he still found the flavor of a young woman's desire one of the most beautiful things in the world.
After a few minutes, the peak of pleasure faded into the steady, familiar stream of vitality. Opening his eyes, Glava gazed down at the naked body of Annabelle Rose. He could leave her here for the brothel's mistress to discover, but they might associate him with her death. Having the law after him would compromise his subtlety, and he didn't want to attract any unwanted attention. Cora Oglesby may have been one of the most obstinate and dangerous hunters in the world, but she wasn't the only one. Some of James Townsend's friends might prove troublesome if they caught wind of his activities. No, it was best to conceal the evidence for now and wait until his tide became too powerful to withstand.
Glava stood to his feet and wiped his mouth on a corner of the bedsheet. Moving toward the nearest window, he opened it and looked out. Cold night air rushed into the room, bathing his face and neck. A smile bloomed on his red lips as he turned back to Annabelle's body. He wrapped her in the bloodstained sheet and tossed her over one shoulder as if she weighed no more than an empty burlap sack. Then he stepped into his shoes, walked over to the window, and was about to climb through when he heard a sound and turned.
Jack Evans stood in the doorway, his mouth agape.
Fodor Glava's golden eyes flashed above his bundle. Despite his need for caution, he couldn't refrain from offering the deputy one of his grins before slipping through the window. Keeping his footsteps light,