Bled Dry (Vegas Vampires #3)(35)
Author: Erin McCarthy

The December wind was chilly to mortals, and the few tourists hanging about were wearing jackets. It wouldn’t be hard to hide a knife. Ringo was doing it himself. But it would be difficult for another vampire to cut his head off in the courtyard of the Bellagio, even if it was dark and the crowd was thin.

That didn’t scare him. What scared him was the unknown. The idea that he didn’t understand how to play the game with these powerful bastards, who had been dicking other vampires over for hundreds of years. Donatelli was a sick mother-fucker who knew there were worse things than death, and Ringo didn’t want to fall in with any of that shit.

A woman caught Ringo’s attention as she wandered around the fountain, taking pictures with a digital camera. She wasn’t the usual tourist bundled in nylon and fleece. Wearing a long, black and green plaid coat tied tightly at her waist, fishnet stockings, and knee-high suede boots, she stood out in the handful of people hanging around, her walk, her manners, her dress screaming of wealth and sophistication. She was model thin, burgundy velvet gloves on her hands, and a white fuzzy purse on her shoulder, dark blond hair flowing over her shoulders under a fur hat.

She didn’t seem to be aware of him, or anyone else around, and Ringo watched her, intrigued. If she were a celebrity, she would have an entourage of bodyguards, assistants, paparazzi around her. If this were a modeling shoot, there would be cameras, a director, makeup artists. But she was clearly alone, and Ringo couldn’t take his eyes from her. She wasn’t hot, not in the way a stripper or a Hooters waitress or a Playboy bunny was, but she was exotic, exquisite, untouchable. And mortal.

The urge to seduce her, to draw her aside, and sink his teeth into her flawless flesh rushed through him. He wanted to taste her, to feel her give in to him, to see her eyes roll back with pleasure as he drew on her, taking her into him, her sweet rich blood running over his tongue and down his throat.

But he couldn’t. He had to wait for Donatelli or Chechikov’s errand boy. And he was married now, ring on his finger and everything. He didn’t possess the self-control to stop at a taste of her blood. He would want a full sexual joining while he fed, and that was probably wrong. Kelsey didn’t deserve that kind of disrespect, no matter how she got on his damn nerves. He knew that. But that didn’t stop him from wanting this woman.

Especially since she was strolling toward him, tucking her camera back into her purse and extracting a thin gold cigarette case. She lifted her head, a cigarette between her lips, and Ringo sucked in a breath. Jesus. She was so goddamn gorgeous, her thick plump lips a raspberry color, skin creamy, cheeks pink from the chill, nose long and straight. But it was her eyes that distracted him, that made him almost forget why touching her would be wrong. Narrow, an intriguing oval shape, her eyes were a pale blue, a green ring dividing blue from the darkness of her pupils.

She smiled, gesturing to her cigarette. Ringo stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out his lighter. He lit her cigarette, smelling the thick floral perfume she wore when her head bent to inhale. Turning slightly, she blew the smoke over his shoulder. If he was expecting a thank-you, he didn’t get one. Nor did she move away.

“Are you alone?” he asked, thinking that a woman who looked like her couldn’t be, nor should she be. Vegas was always awake, people usually everywhere at all times, and it was well lit, but that didn’t mean it was smart to wander around alone at four in the morning.

Her nose wrinkled up and she said something in another language. Then she reached into her purse and pulled out a thick envelope, pressing it into his hands.

He accepted it automatically, a realization dawning on him. “Chechikov?” he said. It made sense. She looked Russian, a hint of Mongolian around her eyes, and that could have been Russian she’d spoken. But why was a mortal hanging out with an eccentric vampire?

“Da.” She nodded, not smiling, not frowning. Just serious now, solemn. She took his other hand, wrapped it around the envelope, squeezing. Then she pulled her hands back and said something quickly, words that sounded urgent.

Before he could react, say something, anything, she was gone, each foot moving so far in front of the other that she swayed, her hips moving like the sprawling concrete was a catwalk. Her hand came up, and she took a drag on her cigarette as she walked away, the click of her boots loud in the quiet night.

Ringo waited until she had disappeared around the fountain and headed into the lobby of the hotel, doors swallowing her, while he wondered who the hell she was and why she hadn’t asked about Atelier’s girlfriend.

Then he crossed the street to his wife with a boner, an envelope, and a hefty dose of suspicion.

Brittany patted her last patient of the day, Louise Zanderman, on the shoulder as she peeled off her gloves. “That wasn’t so awful, was it? You can rinse and we’ll have you out of here. Nothing hard or crunchy to eat for the rest of the day. We’ll see you in five months for your next checkup and hopefully no cavities next time.”

Louise, a pleasant woman in her fifties, spat aggressively. “I don’t understand how I have any space left to even get cavities. My teeth are nothing but fillings. And the next time I’m here for my checkup, I imagine you’ll be out on maternity leave.”

Startled, Brittany touched her stomach. “You can tell I’m pregnant?”

Louise smiled at her. “Of course I can tell. You’ve always been thin. That little bubble popping out is not a big pasta dinner. It’s a baby, about five months along, at best guess.”

A happy flush filled her cheeks. “That’s about right. But I didn’t realize people could tell… it’s only been in the last two weeks or so that I’ve really popped.”

Louise ripped off her paper dental bib. “Congratulations. Pregnancy seems to agree with you—you’re glowing. Do you know what you’re having?”

“No.” At her last ultrasound, the technician had asked if she wanted to know, but it had seemed like a decision she shouldn’t make without Corbin. Of course, he had been MIA at the time, with only weekly floral arrangements to prove he still existed, but she still hadn’t been able to do it. She had wanted to believe they were in this pregnancy thing together. Still did. “I said I didn’t want to know. I’m happy with either a boy or a girl.”

“What does your husband think?” Louise sat up. “A lot of men want a boy that first time around.”

“Oh, I don’t think he cares about the sex.” Brittany figured Corbin just wanted their child to be born without fangs. They weren’t going to be picky about a penis.