Page 32

“Cocky bastards. I know.”

“Yes. But also…no.”

The waitress was back with the calamari appetizer, and Jackson shoved the bread he held into his mouth, stuffing down whatever retort he was on the verge of hurling. She pushed the deep-fried plate in his direction. “Here. You look hungrier than I am.”

“Go ahead. Charge to their defense. I can’t wait to hear what you have to say now.”

She folded her hands in front of her. “Not all the vampires I’ve met are full of themselves. For instance, Serge is the epitome of a charming bungler who has kept to himself for centuries.”

“Centuries. Nice. That must make for quite the body count.”

“I’m not saying he never killed. God knows, he can scare the crap out of someone if he wants to. It’s just not his thing.” She leaned forward, emphatic. “Jack, his idea of a satisfying meal is compelling drug dealers to find religion.”

“Charming. So what’s your point?”

“My point is you can’t lump them all together. Not all of them let their alter egos call the shots.”

“Alter egos?”

“Yes. The, you know, vampire part of them.”

“Their true selves. Yes, I get it.”

“I’m not sure you do.”

“If there is any part of them that needs to feed on terror, then what they are is something that needs to be exterminated.” He popped a calamari ring into his mouth and chewed for a moment. “It’s an instinct. Reason has nothing to do with it. With time and practice, they can curb it to a point, but the lust for emotionally charged blood never subsides.

“Which brings us back to your original question.” Jackson emphasized his words by gesturing with another crispy ring. “Erotic feeding is feeding on lust. On the ego-feeding scale, being an object of desire is right up there with being feared. Either provides a power rush they can’t resist.”

Her mental gears tumbled and clicked. Lust and terror: interchangeable in the eyes of the beast. Good to know. If Dominique could master one, he could master the other. The thought made her smile.

“You’re not hearing anything I’m saying, are you?”

“On the contrary, Jackson. I hear everything you’re saying, and then some.” She reached for a piece of calamari. “Whether I want to or not.”

“I see.” He played with the straw for a moment. “So, why do you want to know about erotic feeding?”

She hesitated a moment too long before shrugging. “The topic came up.”

“Oh? In casual conversation?”

“Well—” Heat bloomed in her cheeks as she recalled Dominique’s recent memories. “It’s hard to explain.”

“God damn it, Cass,” he hissed and took hold of her hand. “You’re playing with your life here. Don’t you see that?”

“Jack—”

“Well, isn’t this cozy?”

They looked up at a woman glaring accusations down at them. Tall, ridiculously skinny, and draped in Prada and Gucci and perfectly behaved long, straight hair, she could have stepped off the cover of Vogue and right onto Cassidy’s short list of least favorite people.

Jackson let go of Cassidy’s hand and sat back, his face shuttering. “Avery. What are you doing here?”

Cassidy looked between them, curious. The woman’s eyes narrowed at her. “My friends and I are here for lunch before we get back to the shopping you stood me up for.” She glanced back at three women by the entrance, their attentions glued to the scene. “And what’s your excuse?”

“Avery, this is—”

“I know who it is. Your former fiancée. What I want to know is: what are you doing here with her?”