Noah Fox bade his financial adviser good night, then went to the window and gazed down at the driveway below. As soon as he was certain the man was off the premises, he called downstairs and informed his staff he was retiring for the night and would have no further need of their services.
Going into his bedroom, he took off his designer dress shirt, slacks, and loafers and donned a pair of black sweats and tennis shoes. It was a simple matter to leave the grounds without being seen.
He had not fed for several days, preferring to hunt the night when the hunger was clawing at his vitals, when the driving need for sustenance added zest to the chase, making the reward all the sweeter.
He had always harbored a secret yearning to be an actor, and he indulged the fantasy when he was on the hunt. Some nights he played the English lord: polite, polished. Some nights he played the rogue: brutal, arrogant. At other times he took on the persona of a swash-buckling pirate; sometimes, like tonight, he pretended he was just an ordinary mortal out for a late-night walk.
At one time or another, he had hunted the plush homes of Beverly Hills and the cardboard shacks of the homeless, plundered the beaches, roamed the desert resorts and mountain cabins.
He prowled the streets of the city, preying on the young and the old, male and female, but young females were his prey of choice. He loved the smell of them, the taste of them, their innocence and vulnerability.
He licked his lips as he walked down the deserted street. Dark-gray clouds hung low in the sky. He was passing an alley when he felt it: a heaviness in the air. It made every hair on his body stand at attention.
He had never been a coward. Even as a mortal, he had feared little, but he was afraid now without knowing why.
A gust of jasmine-scented wind slapped his face and he whirled around, his gaze probing the night. "Who is it? Who's there?"
His only answer was silence, and a feeling of being closed in by an otherworldly power stronger than his own. "Show yourself, damn it!"
Was it his imagination, or did he hear a faint sound of mocking laughter?
It had been decades since he had known fear, but he felt it now, creeping down his spine, coiling around his insides like the cold bony fingers of certain death. Was this what his victims felt as he closed in on them, this horrible sense of doom, of knowing that, no matter how fast they ran, there was no escape?
And he was running now, skimming across the ground with preternatural speed, yet the other stayed close behind him, driving him out of the city toward the small wilderness area that bordered the southeast edge of the town.
Trees and thick shrubs rose up before him, and he ran toward them, as if they could offer him refuge from the terror that stalked him.
With a cry, he fell to his knees and began to dig into the dirt, hoping to find sanctuary deep in the earth. Too late, too late. A strangled cry escaped his lips as a hand closed over his shoulder and lifted him effortlessly to his feet.
It was then he got his first glimpse of his pursuer. He almost laughed with relief - until he looked into her eyes. How could such a beautiful woman have such hellish eyes?
"Hello, Noah."
He licked his lips. "Khira."
"Didn't you get my message?"
He nodded, his movements jerky, like a puppet on a string. "I was going to leave tomorrow night."
"You were supposed to leave last week."
"I... I had some... some matters of business that I had to take care of."
A smile curved her lips. He wondered if it was meant to be reassuring. It wasn't.
Her fingers dug into his shoulder, the nails piercing the cloth and the skin beneath. The smell of blood filled the air. His blood. Red. Dark.
He stared at her, mesmerized, as her lips drew back to reveal her fangs. "After tonight, you won't have to worry about business anymore."
"Khira..." He tried to pull away from her.
She laughed softly. He was a tall man, strong and lean, but he had no strength at all compared to hers. She reveled in her power, her strength. As a mortal woman, she had been nothing but chattel, without rights, without physical strength. Subject to her father's will, she'd had nothing to say about her life, her future. Had her father been so inclined, he could have sold her and no one would have questioned his decision. But now - ah, now - no man on earth was her equal or her master.
"Khira... please..."
"Vampire blood is the sweetest of all," she murmured, and with a low growl, she buried her fangs deep in his throat, and drank and drank, drinking his strength and his blood, his memories and his knowledge.
He struggled helplessly against her, his heart beating frantically. His hands clawed at her, locking on her arms in an effort to break her hold, but to no avail. His essence filled her, flooded her, warmed her. She held him to her until his heart beat its last, until the spark that had been Noah Fox ceased to exist and all that remained was a dry, empty husk.
She left the body concealed behind a clump of shrubbery. The dawn's light would dispose of the remains quickly and efficiently, leaving nothing behind.
Licking the blood from her lips, she left the park.
