"Monica is mine."
His whisper sliced through her. “Why are you doing this to her? To me?” Her voice came out high, almost childlike. She swallowed, trying to ease the aching dryness in her throat.
"She has what she wanted.” His blue eyes began to change. Began to burn with a sapphire flame. She licked her lips. “And that is?"
He moved a step closer. Horror held her immobile.
"What do all the vain rich want?” he replied. “Power. Eternal life." His answer made no sense. “And me?” she asked, fearing the answer. "You, my pretty, are the first to ever elude my call." He reached out, brushing her cheek with a feverish hand. Her skin stung and bile rose in her throat. She longed to run, but even the simple act of breathing had become suddenly difficult. His hand slid lightly down her neck and across her breast. She closed her eyes, digging her nails into her palms to stop herself from screaming. She'd be damned if she'd give him that pleasure. He laughed. Her eyes flew open. Hunger stirred deep in the bright heart of his eyes.
"So brave,” he whispered. “So very brave. Our association will be an interesting one indeed." She shuddered, her mind screaming a denial her lips refused to utter. His gaze became a sapphire blaze. So bright.
So blue.
She watched, enthralled, as death closed in.
* * * *
Night had settled across cloudy skies when Michael made his way through the last of the stockyards. The cattle had stilled their restless stirring now that he no longer walked among them, and the distant rumble of traffic made little impact on the hush surrounding him.
He reached the last fence and stopped, leaning his arms against the rough railings. The red flare of life burned in the buildings opposite, and his hunger, though sated, stirred sluggishly. He grimaced. Would the desire for the sweet strength of human blood ever leave him? Three centuries had passed, and still the yearning ran through his veins, an addiction that refused to die. Four men worked within the building, their life forces visible through the large windows. The man he sought was not among them. Not that he expected Jasper to be hiding on the outskirts of the city. His foe had a taste for the high life, even if he hunted easy prey in the poorer areas. Monica was not the first young woman turned by a gentle dance with the devil.
He climbed through the railings, then broke into a run, moving quickly along the road that would take him back to the heart of Lyndhurst. A quick check earlier in the day had revealed that Lyndhurst had five detective agencies. After three calls, he'd found Nikki's. He glanced at his watch. It was nearly six-thirty—she should be there by now.
What he did then depended very much on Nikki's reaction to him. But one way or another, willing or unwilling, she would become his bait.
The sounds and smell of humanity swirled around him as he approached the business district. The streets became crowded, forcing him to slow. He might be able to prevent most people from seeing him, but he couldn't prevent them from feeling the impact of his body if he ran into them. The last thing he needed right now was to stir more hysteria. The recent disappearances of four women had caused enough trouble. Too much more, and Jasper might just leave. Despite his assurance to Seline, he knew Jasper wasn't stupid enough to stick around if hunting became too difficult. There was always another city, another time. Their final battle might be long overdue, but Jasper had time to spare. He would wait until the time was right and the odds on his side.
The building where Nikki worked came into sight. Lights shone brightly through the windows. Nikki was