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  The shake of her head was dismissive. Matthew wondered if it was at the suggestion that she and Claire were friends, or that what Claire thought mattered.

  "She was jealous, of course. All women here would enjoy being in your arms, or in your bed. And I know they're all jealous of me now."

  Matthew's first instinct was to refuse to believe her. It was ridiculous that Claire would be jealous of anyone for dancing with him. Yet, when he glanced up toward her, he began wondering if the girl might be right. Claire still hadn't moved, and she was still looking in his direction. But what struck him most was to see her hand curled on the edge of the banister, as though clutching a safe-line. Diane's words came back to him in a flash. Claire wasn't pouting yet, but she did look sulky.

  He knew what he had to do instantly. He couldn't allow the situation to continue like this. He played with the women in the club, played with their competitiveness, their possessiveness and jealousy, because they were prey, and little more to him than a warm body and warm blood. He refused to get to know them, refused to let them know him precisely so they wouldn't become anything more than a body. Claire was different. Claire wasn't prey, nor would she ever be. Not for him, not for anyone else if he had anything to say about it.

  She had to know he was a vampire, and still she was showing interest in him, even jealousy if Diane and the girl were right. He would put an end to that silliness, and send her home before she got hurt.

  "Hey, I'm here, not up there."

  The girl's gently chiding voice brought his attention back to her. Unhooking her arms from his neck, he brought her hands to his mouth and touched his lips to the back of each.

  "Thanks for the dance, lovely."

  He could hear her call after him as he stepped away and toward the staircase, but he ignored her. Even an apologetic smile would do more damage than good now, and he needed his entire attention free to focus on Claire. The bodies all around him on the dance floor, then stepping up and down the staircase or walking across the bridge, all ceased to exist save for Claire's.

  She had noticed his approach, and she had turned to face him, her hip pressing against the banister as though she needed the support. It might have been a trick of the light, but she seemed to become paler as he came nearer, except for two bright red spots high on her cheeks. The hand in which she held her drink shook slightly when she brought the glass to her lips. She took a small sip, but she seemed to have trouble swallowing the alcohol. As he stepped closer still, he noticed that her dress wasn't black as he had believed from the dance floor. Rather, it was of a very dark blue, the material shining softly when the lights hit it at just the right angle. It looked soft as velvet.

  Matthew flexed his hand to control the urge to reach out and touch her where the wide collar of the dress met the edge of her collarbone. Her hair was barely brushing against her shoulders. Matthew had liked her long tresses, but now that he could see her closer, the shorter look was growing on him. It was ... different, and nothing he would have expected or imagined. He wouldn't have expected either her heart to beat so fast as he finally stopped in front of her, or her scent to reflect expectation and excitement along with the more appropriate edge of fear.

  He was breaking his own rules, by talking to her, and yet he couldn't resist it. He had heard her speak before, but just one time he wanted to hear her voice as she addressed him.

  "Hello, Claire. Did you intend to watch every night until I move out of town, or were you ever going to come down and talk to me?"

  Too late, he realized his mistake. He shouldn't have called her by name. He wasn't supposed to know her. He wondered if she had noticed. She certainly seemed troubled enough not to pay much attention to his words. That didn't matter much, though. He intended to get his message across with more than words once he had her full attention.

  * * * *

  "It can't be happening."

  Claire's murmured words were swallowed by the music. She looked around her, but no one had heard her, and no one was looking in her direction either, except for him. She shook her head, trying to wake herself up. She had to be dreaming. Daydreaming. Hallucinating. Maybe it was her drink, although she still hadn't finished it. She didn't know what it was, but there had to be a logical explanation for the fact that he was coming toward her.

  It had started with a few glances in her direction while he had been with the vampiress, and a more prolonged one later on, after he had started dancing with Sara. Claire had thought she was imagining it at first, but when he had left the girl behind to stride toward the staircase, his eyes finding Claire and remaining with her as he approached, she had admitted to herself she wasn't imagining it. Instead, she had begun to question her own sanity.

  He walked at a normal pace, neither hurrying nor taking his time, but to Claire suddenly everything seemed to be going in slow motion. A couple of minutes stretched into hours as she tried to understand what was going on—and more importantly, tried to decide what she would do if he was truly coming to her. Had Sara talked to him about Claire? What could she have said to make him want to come to Claire? Because there was no doubt anymore in her mind. He was only a few steps away, close enough that she could see his eyes, and she remembered what all the women she had talked to had said, all using the same words.

  "His eyes ... They're so deep, so dark, I thought they were black."

  Now she could see them for herself, see how the almost black was really brown, see also how easy it would be to get lost in his gaze. In fact, she was starting to do just that.

  She forced herself to break eye contact but couldn't manage to look away, and her gaze slid over him. He wore a gray cotton shirt and charcoal pants that revealed he had to have enjoyed his time on the dance floor. Heat spread over Claire's body, drying out her mouth and making her lightheaded. She suddenly remembered the forgotten glass in her hand and brought it to her lips to give herself confidence, but the small sip she took rasped against her throat like gravel. When she lowered the glass again, he was just a step in front of her, towering almost a full head over her despite her high heels.

  She should have known better, but once again, she let herself be caught by his eyes. She only realized he was talking to her after a few seconds, missing his first words.

  "...were you ever going to come down and talk to me?"

  She knew, then, that Sara must have told him that Claire had an interest in him. Who knew what else she had said, and what this man now thought of Claire? Did he believe she would fall into his arms and his bed like the other women he seduced every night just because he said three words to her? If that was what he thought, he would soon learn otherwise, and see that she...

  The realization hit her like a bucket of icy water. He might not be completely wrong, if that was what he thought. Her heart was trying to break free of her chest and her knees were weak just because he was standing close to her; she couldn't trust herself where he was concerned.

  There was only one thing to do. She ran away.

  She heard him say something as she turned her back on him and hurried to the staircase, but she refused to listen. Gripping the handrail with one hand, her glass in the other, she climbed the steps as quickly as she could without tripping over her own feet. She didn't dare look back to see if he was following her, but she wanted to. She also wanted, even if she couldn't admit it to herself, to see him there, just behind her, catching up with her and convincing her not to leave.

  She was alone when she reached the first floor. She finally turned back; he was nowhere in sight. She stayed still for a few seconds at the top of the staircase, searching the faces that walked up toward her but never recognizing his.

  Her heart had calmed down a little, but her hand was trembling when she went to place her glass on the bar counter. Whatever had been left of it had sloshed over as she ran up the steps, and her fingers were sticky. She picked up a napkin and glanced back again toward the staircase.

  "Everything OK, Claire?"


  The concern in Leo's voice brought Claire back to her senses. Leaning against the bar, her empty glass in hand, he looked very serious, even alarmed. She tried to smile at him, but feared it must have seemed like a grimace.

  "Everything's fine,” she reassured him—and herself.

  And everything was fine, wasn't it? All that had happened was that a man had accosted her. It was a common occurrence in clubs like this one. Claire should have expected it, and maybe then she wouldn't have reacted as though she were still in grade school.

  She thought, briefly, of going down again, but she would be too embarrassed to talk to him. Instead, she said goodnight to Leo, retrieved her light jacket at the coat check, and left to catch a cab home.

  * * * *

  A little puzzled, Matthew watched Claire disappear inside a taxi. He wasn't too sure what he had said or done to send her running away like this, but he wasn't too upset about it. There were many other places in town where she could socialize, if that was what she had been doing at On The Edge. Other places where vampires were less likely to interact with her.

  Behind him, the music of the club, the laughs and scents were alluring, but Matthew found that he had little interest in returning to the dance floor. It was much too early to go home, so he decided he might as well make use of his night. Grabbing the cell phone clipped at the waist of his pants, he dialed one of the few pre-programmed numbers. On the other side of the line, Leonard picked up almost immediately.

  "Yes?"

  Matthew dispensed himself with greetings or introductions. Neither was necessary. “Where is he?"

  "Right now, at the agency. They've been looking at maps and preparing weapons for a while, it looks like they're getting ready to go out."

  Matthew thought for a few moments. All he had were suspicions about Jonas. If three Special Enforcers had been breaking the rules in the city, the word would have gotten out in the vampire community. It was possible for one Special Enforcer to work overtime, but three would have been too much to hide. Therefore, it was probable that his colleagues did not stake vampires as freely as he did, and unlikely anything usable would come out of this night. Unlikely, but not impossible though, and patience was the name of this game.

  "I'll run home to get my camera and come to take your place. Call me if they leave before I get there."

  Without hurrying, he walked back to his loft. It was a nice night to spend outside, so doing the stakeout himself, as he did the nights when Claire didn't come to the club, didn't bother him. The investigator was good, one of the best in town, but there were places where he couldn't follow without putting himself in too much danger, and playing safe had not yielded anything usable against Jonas so far. If he hadn't cheated on Claire, Matthew wouldn't have cared much, not beyond making sure to stay out of Jonas’ way. As things stood however, he was determined to see him kicked out of the Special Enforcers ranks. For that, he needed irrefutable evidence. Maybe tonight would be the night.

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  Chapter Four

  A light knock on her office door startled Claire enough that she gasped. Looking up from the black screen of her computer, she couldn't help frowning at Jane, the assistant she shared with two other representatives. She was standing by the open door, just on the threshold, as though hesitating to come in.

  "Claire? I'm sorry to bother you again, but I'm still waiting for those survey sheets so I can follow up on your introductory contacts. You said you'd have them for me by noon."

  "And I will. Noon, or even earlier if I'm not interrupted every five minutes."

  Instead of turning around, Jane shuffled her feet and cleared her throat, looking everywhere except at Claire. She played with the loose bracelets on her wrist, as she always did when she had made a mistake. Claire sighed, wondering what she would have to fix, this time.

  "I guess you've been really busy. I mean, you didn't even take a lunch break, so you probably didn't realize it's almost two."

  Claire's frown only deepened. It couldn't possibly be that late. Surely, Jane was trying to pull a prank on her, although the young woman was much too mild for that, so one of the other representatives had to be behind it, or maybe even both. Sam and Paula sometimes had strange ways of showing their humor, and while in the first few years Claire had worked with them she had enjoyed it, lately she found their jokes grating on her nerves.

  Just as she was about to ask Jane who had put her up to this, the assistant cleared her throat again and said a hasty goodbye before closing the door behind her. Claire started reaching for her phone to call her back in, but her eyes fell on the digital clock next to it and she froze, her hand in mid-air. It was truly past two.

  It didn't seem possible, still. Just a few moments ago, she had been working on her survey summaries. She had let her mind wander for a little while as she thought about what had happened at the club the previous night, but she couldn't possibly have been lost in her thoughts for that long.

  She gave the clock another look, then glanced at the watch on her left wrist. Both taunted her with the same numbers.

  "Shit. What the hell is wrong with me?"

  She pushed her mouse with a flick of her fingers and the screen came to life again, showing her the data table she should have completed two hours earlier. She foraged on her desk for the notes she was transcribing, information about the recent walk-in customers she had advised about their retirement investments. The staccato of the keyboard keys filled the room as she completed columns with numbers, private information and personal comments. Claire cursed softly every time her fingers slipped and hit the wrong key, slowing her down. She was almost done when she noticed she was missing a page of notes about the most interesting prospect of the bunch, a notable of Haventown that might bring the agency more business over time if he was satisfied with their services. Claire could picture in her mind the paper with the information, she remembered having drawn a large star at the top of it, but the sheet and its numbers were nowhere to be found. She picked up every piece of paper, every brochure on her desk, checked her drawers and even the trash bin, and still nothing.

  She would find it, she knew it had to be somewhere around, but at the moment she didn't have time to look for it, not when Jane was waiting on her to be able to do her own job.

  She e-mailed the file to Jane, then took a deep breath and stood. Since Jane had started, two months earlier, Claire had made it clear that she had high expectations for her assistant. The reverse had to be true.

  Sucking in her pride, Claire walked out of the office to the cubicle where Jane worked. She was at her desk, and the file Claire had just e-mailed to her was already open on her computer screen.

  "Jane?"

  The young woman turned to her, her eyes wary.

  "Anything I can help you with, Claire?"

  "I just wanted to apologize for snapping at you. You were perfectly in your right to expect me to deliver this file when I said I would. Time seems to have disappeared on me, today."

  She pushed a smile to her face, and Jane answered it in kind.

  "It happens to all of us. I'll get right on those calls."

  When Claire turned on her heel to go back to her office, several assistants in nearby cubicles were gawking at her. She even noticed a representative trying to pretend that she hadn't been listening in. She struggled not to grit her teeth and kept the smile on her face, even though she knew that she would be the subject of gossip before the day was over. She made her decision, right there and then. She was going to need to relax tonight, so she would return to the club, and if a certain vampire happened to come back to talk to her, she wouldn't run away like a scared little girl. This way, maybe, when she returned to work on Monday, she would be able to focus on what she was doing rather than spend time questioning her actions and his motives.

  * * * *

  Matthew hadn't felt like hunting at On The Edge this night, and yet, there he was. Too many of the women who showed an interest in him
had already taken him home, and he would have preferred finding new hunting grounds, or even shadowing Jonas and try to finally get the evidence he wanted. However, Diane had hinted that she expected one of her playthings to be there and she had demanded that Matthew accompany her, if only for their customary first dance. He knew where the unusual use of her authority had come from; she had been talking about leaving town again, now that Claire was free of an unworthy life companion, but Matthew was dragging his feet. He would feel better once he was convinced that Claire had truly left Jonas behind her. Until then, he would rather keep an eye on her and steer her away from trouble.

  He helped Diane slip her long jacket off and handed it to the coat check employee. Behind him, he heard Diane chuckle.

  "Tell me again how you scared off your girl?"

  "How?” He looked at her, wondering why she was bringing this up now. “I just tried to talk to her and she ran away. Why do you ask?"

  She chuckled once more, and tilted her head toward the bar. Matthew followed her gesture. He recognized Claire immediately, even though he was behind her. Her short auburn hair was dancing just above her shoulders, which were left bare by her dress. All the vampires in the club would be looking at the curve of her neck and thinking of nothing more than sinking their fangs into the soft flesh. Silly girl.

  "Try harder this time, Childe."

  Diane raised herself on her toes to press her lips to his cheek. Matthew did not react, barely noticing that she was walking on her own to the staircases. Should he approach Claire again, or wait and see what she was up to? He was still trying to decide when he saw her head turn toward where Diane was just disappearing down the steps. She pivoted on her stool, her eyes searching the entrance of the club. Whatever she saw, or did not see, she seemed disappointed. But then, her gaze fell on Matthew, and she stilled completely for a few seconds. When she finally faced the bar again, there was a new tension to her shoulders, and Matthew knew what he should do.

  * * * *

  When Claire sat down at the bar, a little past nine, she noticed the fleeting look of surprise that crossed Leo's features.