chair. "Have you got any leads on the beheadings?"
I countered his question by repeating one of my own. "Why were you at Dante's this morning?"
He raised an eyebrow, his gaze briefly sweeping me, coming to rest of my crossed legs. He reached out and snagged one foot before I could react, then slid off the shoe and tossed it to one side. His quick, clever fingers began to knead my instep and tremors of delight shot up my leg. I licked my lips, torn between the desire to enjoy and the knowledge that that would only lead to complications I'd been fighting to avoid.
"I've been employed by a desperate husband," he said softly, his gaze on mine as he continued to rub and stroke my foot. "His wife is a blood whore and it is endangering his reputation. He's hired me to track her down and take care of her."
"By take care, you mean kill."
"Not directly, as that would do as much damage to his reputation as having a whore for a wife. So I shall arrange an accident that she will not survive."
He said it so flatly, so casually - and I don't know why I was surprised, but I was. Maybe something deep inside - the stupid dark part of me that wanted this man so badly it ached - kept blindly hoping that there was some spark of humanity in him. It would have made this thing between us seem a little more palatable.
But I might as well pray for snow in the middle of a desert.
I ripped my foot from his grasp and shifted my legs further away from him. Amusement glinted in his eyes. So did determination.
"You've just admitted to planning a murder. It happens, and your ass will be in jail quicker than I could say 'thank God'."
He chuckled. It was a rich, mellow sound that ran across my skin. "There are, at last count, at least a dozen rich young things attending that club of Dante's. I know of eight that are married and cuckolding their husbands, and three of those drink so much they are accidents waiting to happen. You'll never know my target from a real accident."
Which wouldn't stop me from trying if there was a sudden run of accidents amongst the upper class. "Technically, they're not cuckolding their husbands. Blood whores get off on vampires taking their blood. The clubs cater to that, not sex."
"Most clubs do adhere to the rules. Some, like Dante's, do not. Half the upstairs is given over to private rooms, and the whores pay a hefty price to be fully serviced."
"And that's how you're hoping to catch your client's wife? You have the rooms bugged and are recording events?" It also explained why he was so horny. Voyeurism was a part of the wolf culture - and a huge turn-on for most of us.
"Yes, but she hasn't been there for a few days, hence my hanging about catching all your activities."
"So you were there on stake-out when Grant Haven was beheaded?"
"You already know I was. I reported - or got that woman to report - the crime."
"And yet you claim you didn't see anything."
He picked up his empty wine glass and toyed with it idly, twirling it around his fingers like he had the knife in the warehouse. "You've never actually asked me what I saw that night."
Fucking hell... "Kye," I said, acerbically, "What the hell did you see that night?"
He was silent for a moment, continuing to toy with his glass. I watched the movements, the quickness of his fingers, and wondered what those fingers could do if they played across my flesh.
"Perhaps," he said softly. "It's not so much a matter of what I saw, but what I know."
"What I know is I'm barely resisting the urge to haul your ass downtown, find some nasty murder to pin on you, and throw your smart mouth in jail."
He merely smiled. "Grant Haven was a member of the Melbourne vamp council. The rumor is that the vampire who was beheaded and incinerated the day before Haven was also a council member."
"And Henry Gateway?"
"I haven't been able to find confirmation one way or another, but I suspect he might have been, too."
I frowned considering him, considering the information. "Why would three men from the local council be visiting a place like Dante's when there are more upmarket venues available?"
He smiled. It was a luscious, hungry thing that swept across my senses as warmly as a caress.