“Not recently.” Like, the past eighty years, but if he told her that, she’d realize the import of him being here with her now.
“I will be back before you know I’ve gone.”
Still she protested. “There’s no pharmacy close by.”
“I move fast when I choose, sweet one.” He gave her a twisted smile. “I believe there is one in East Motham that stays open twenty-four hours.”
“You’d know from experience, I guess.” Her features pinched a little.
“Maybe.” He shrugged casually. Let her think he was a callous libertine. “See you anon. Don’t move from that bed, sweet Clare.”
But as he strode from her apartment and sped down the stairs, a loneliness like heavy fog descended on him. A feeling he’d run from for so long, and now tonight, it had made a reappearance, like an angry ghost. For a moment his resolve faltered, and the yearning to spin on his heels and retrace his steps almost stopped his breath. How easy it would be to turn around, take those stairs two at a time, and join her warm naked body in that bed…
No.
He gritted his teeth.
Let her wait—let the sheen of sweat cool on her skin. And when it finally dawned on her that he wasn’t coming back, let her think his goal had only ever been to humiliate her.
She would hate him, despise him.
And that was exactly how it needed to be.
As he yanked open the front door and looked up at the night sky, awash with stars, Oliver wished he could unfurl his wings and fly from the scene. But that would mean shifting into vampire form, something he never allowed himself to do. In his vampire form he had no hope of combating his blood lust. Already he’d felt it in the ache in his canines, the hollow hunger in his stomach. In the flash of hideous images in his brain that he would do anything,anythingto silence.
Except partake of Clare’s blood.
Because that would destroy them both.
Fuck it. He would have to walk home. Lock himself in his cold empty house and go hang upside down in the attic for the rest of the night, letting the blood drain from his cock.
Yes, she would hate him.
But not as much as he hated himself right now.
CHAPTER 7
NOW.
After Natalie’s mom left Tween police station, Clare sat alone in the interview room chewing on her lip.
She couldn’t possibly investigate Natalie’s disappearance from here. Sure, she could ask for information and updates, and Saul would relay whatever details he had, but she needed to be in Motham to pursue this.
Saul’s offer rang in her head.We’ve got a vacancy for a senior detective.
That’s what she was now. She’d done her time, three years in Tween, earned her stripes. Not that she really believed she was a better detective these days than when she’d been a rookie investigator in Motham.
At least she’d learned never to succumb to another guy’s charms.
He was no ordinary guy.
Dead right. He was a morally depraved vampire.
Clare swallowed down the sour taste of shame. Whenever she thought of Oliver Hale, it felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach. He’d duped her, humiliated her for gods only knewwhat warped reason, probably some power trip over a young human who’d made her crush on him all too clear.
Leaving her alone in that bed, waiting for him to return, had been the most hideously awful experience of her life. The bullying at school was nothing in comparison. She’d given him her body, let him finger fuck her on some poor soul’s grave without even a second thought, and howled like a banshee as she came.
She pinched the bridge of her nose and screwed up her face.
