Detective Brady Lindstrom deals in death, and not just because he’s a homicide cop with the slaughter of a century to solve. Ten years ago, vampires murdered his lover. Ever since, he’s looked over his shoulder, ready for vampires to strike again. Or maybe just the one he loved.
Exhausted and angry about the needless deaths he has to investigate, Brady worries that the killers he’s looking for aren’t even human. Those fears are compounded by an unexpected visitor, the battered and nearly broken Cole Singer, the lover he’d long ago given up for dead. When Cole offers to trade information on the killers in exchange for sanctuary, Brady realizes he doesn’t have a choice. He just can’t turn his back on the face of the only man he’s ever loved. Even if he’s a vampire…
EXCERPT
...“Brady…”
The hair stood up on his arms. He must be more tired than he thought. Now he was hearing things.
He stepped back, staring at the closed door. There was only one way to confirm he just needed to hit the sack, but the energy it took to reach forward and turn the doorknob escaped him.
A soft rustling from outside tightened his hold on the gun. The weapon would be useless if he wasn’t hallucinating, though it might make him feel a hell of a lot better.
“Brady…” The repeat of his name was a little bit louder, the knock that came with it more of a tapping than a full rap. “I know you’re there. I can hear you breathing.”
He clenched his jaw. His imagination wasn’t nearly so idiotic that it would deliberately piss him off by pointing out such a detail. But the truth it left behind colored a bad situation worse.
“Go away,” he said, his voice low, his body iron-hard.
“Can’t. I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Find a grave to call back into.”
“Sometimes I really wish I could.” Wet coughing choked further words. Brady knew that sound. Lungs filled with blood always sounded the same.
“I don’t want you here,” Brady tried. He wasn’t sure why he wasn’t backing away from the door. Nothing good was going to come from this.
“I know. I know.” A sigh. “If I thought I had any other choice, believe me, Brady, I would’ve taken it.” A shadow flickered at the corner of the window next to the door. “Can you at least open up so we don’t have to have this conversation where your neighbors can hear it? I know how much you value your privacy.”
Oh, he knew, all right. He knew far more than made Brady comfortable.
But Brady reached forward anyway, and he turned the knob with his free hand, and he swung the door open to reveal his guest leaning one shoulder against the wall.
Just as Cole Singer had known he would.
His black hair was longer than Brady remembered, straight and skimming his shoulders like a silken curtain that wanted to hide the etched sculpture of his face. Eyes like coal regarded him through thick lashes, but those looked different, too, older, more jaded. World weary, Brady would have thought if this was one of his suspects. An effect of the ten year time span since they’d last seen each other. The rich coppery tone of Cole’s skin was paler, though, like somebody had added too much cream, but there was an explanation for that, as well.
But Brady didn’t stare because of the physical differences. Blood saturated the front of Cole’s shirt. His jeans hung from his slim hips, but somebody had torn the hell out of them, revealing deep gouges through the ripped denim. Somebody had torn the hell out of Cole, for that matter, and Brady took a half-step forward before he checked the instinct.
Brady wasn’t the only one doing an inspection. He shivered as Cole’s gaze swept over him, lingering on parts of his body that shouldn’t have woken up under the scrutiny. Fuck you, he wanted to say. You don’t get to do that, not anymore. He didn’t. He wanted to slam the door on his face, too, but he didn’t do that, either.
A sudden cough startled both of them, and Brady watched in sick fascination as blood spittled on Cole’s wide mouth. “Someone did a number on you.”
The wracking subsided. Cole wiped the back of his hand across his lips, scarlet smearing the fine tendons. Brady froze at the first glimpse of a white fang.
“That’s why I’m here. I need a place to stay while I heal up.”
Heal up. Because it really was as simple as that. At least, if the vampire myths were to be believed. Brady had never been close enough before to test the theory.
Then what Cole was asking hit him.
“You can’t be serious!”
“Why?”
Brady blinked. “Because I haven’t seen you in ten years. And you’re a mess. And, oh yeah, let’s not forget that you’re a fucking vampire. Do I really look that stupid to you?”
“No.” Cole’s voice was soft, his appraising gaze even more so. “You look great.”
He froze. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“You know what.”
“It’s the truth. Well, except for the fact that you look exhausted. But other than that—”
“Go away, Cole.” Control finally started to seep back, and Brady tightened his hand on the door to slam it shut. “Don’t come back.”
“Wait. Please.”
And like a good puppy, Brady stopped. And hated that he reacted so automatically to a man who’d been dead to him for a decade...
