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wanton pulse to the suddenly
wet spot between her legs. Those were the sexiest words she’d ever
heard.
    She slapped him.
    “You can’t just go around biting people!” The
sudden adrenaline rush cleared her head a little, and she realized
how absurd she sounded.
    Max rubbed the left side of his jaw and
grinned. The humor in his eyes didn’t completely mask the dangerous
hint of lust Erica saw there. How could what just happened have
turned them both on?
    “I don’t go around biting people. I marked
you. I didn’t drink any. I just broke the skin so it looks like
I’ve been feeding from you.”
    Erica stared at her bloody fingertips for a
second before Max handed her a folded handkerchief from his back
pocket. She wiped her hands and dabbed at the still tingling spot
on her neck. “You could have warned me.”
    “You’d have said no, and we’d be out here
arguing about it until daybreak.”
    True. If he’d asked permission to bite her,
she would have refused. Biting was ... unsanitary at best. The fact
that she liked it--no. She didn’t like it. That was ridiculous.
She’d been scared out of her mind, limp with terror, unable to
scream. She didn’t like that feeling at all. Absolutely not. She
mentally reserved the right to slap him again later just for good
measure. For now, she had to find Elena.
    “Anything else I should know before we go
in?” She straightened her skirt and fluffed her hair in a vain
attempt to recapture some of her dignity. She’d never gone limp in
a man’s arms before--ever. Frankly, it was embarrassing.
    “One thing ...” His wicked smile did
something to the muscles just below her navel. “You taste
great.”
     

Chapter Four
     
     
    Max waited until the occupants of the other
car entered the club before he led Erica around to the front of the
building. He stopped with his hand on the curving handle of the
front door and gave her a hard look. “Last chance to back out.”
    “Open the door.”
    Her response didn’t surprise him. What did,
however, was that he found her tough act endearing. She definitely
had courage. Maybe on someone else he would have called it
unbridled stupidity, but on her it worked. The quiet desperation in
her eyes touched a long-neglected chord in him and he decided,
despite his better judgment, that she just might be smart enough to
play it cool.
    He opened the door, and they entered the
sultry atmosphere of Club Dead.
    Inside, Melinda, the Friday-night hostess,
sat on a four-foot high stool next to the inner door. Her skinny
legs, sheathed in black stockings, twined around each other, and
she balanced a narrow leather guest book in her lap. The vampiress
smiled at him, showing off her newly sharpened fangs.
    “Max! You look great, as always. Who’s this?
Someone new?” There was just a hint of ferocity in the look she
gave Erica. That had nothing to do with Max. Melinda barely
tolerated human women. She preferred to feed from males.
    “This is--”
    “Ricki,” Erica blurted the pseudonym, drawing
a frown from Melinda. “Hi.”
    Max yanked her arm, hard. “That’s enough
talk.” He smiled apologetically at Melinda. “She’s very new.”
    The hostess nodded, but disapproval colored
her pale features. “Table for two?”
    “Yes.”
    “Go on in.” Melinda touched a button on the
wall behind her. The inner doors opened, and she ushered them
deeper into the club.
    Max felt Erica stiffen as he pulled her
inside the darkened interior where black lights illuminated the
carefully painted décor. It looked like a neon garden. Here and
there spotlights shone on couples and triples engaged in everything
from quiet conversation to blatantly sexual feeding frenzies.
    He tugged again, and Erica stumbled after
him. “Keep walking,” he said in his most severe tone.
    “I think you--” He cut off her protest with a
fang-bearing sneer then splayed his fingers over the bite mark on
her neck where he applied just enough pressure to