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vampire when my

energy reserves were so low, but Starke was already gliding toward me, his body long and strong

and beautiful, his skin glowing as if it was fired by the sun itself.
I blinked, and the image shattered. But not the desire.
I suddenly wondered if he was an emo vampire. Emos lived off emotion rather than blood, and they

had the ability to augment the stronger emotions for their own feeding pleasure. A nightclub

servicing the hungers of others would certainly be a perfect feeding ground for an emo vamp—and

it would also explain my unusual reaction. I made a mental note to check his background when I

got back to the Directorate.
He offered me a piece of paper. On it was Gateway’s address. He lived close, meaning I might as

well go see if he was home before I went that way myself. I folded the paper and shoved it into

the back pocket of my jeans. “I don’t suppose you have security cameras here, do you?”
“Regretfully, no. My patrons prefer not to have their exploits captured.” He paused, mouth

curving seductively. “What about you, Ms. Jenson? Do you like having your conquests recorded for

future pleasure?”
“I prefer my pleasures to be of the moment,” I said. Then, as the spark of desire burned deeper

in his eyes, I added hastily, “Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Starke.”
“Anytime, sweet lady. Anytime.”
I snorted and got the hell out of there. The brightness of the sun had my eyes watering after the

gloom of the club, and I blinked several tears away and took a deep breath, clearing my lungs of

the last vestiges of blood, desperation, and luscious vampire. Then I spun on my heel and headed

for the parking lot.
Cole and his team had already left, and although the blue police tape still lined the lot, there

were no cops guarding the perimeter. Obviously, Cole had gotten everything he needed and someone

had simply forgotten to take down the tape.
I climbed into my car and typed Gateway’s address into the onboard computer. He lived only a few

streets away, so it didn’t take me long to get there.
Gateway’s house, like so many others in this area, had a run-down, grungy facade. But the little

strip of grass between the footpath and the roadside was neatly trimmed, and there were geraniums

lining the front fence. He obviously had a little more pride in his surroundings than was usual

for this area.
I slammed the car door closed and made my way to the house. There was no bell so I knocked

instead, my knuckles shaking loose several layers of dust as the sound echoed. I waited several

minutes, then knocked again. The only response was the barking of a dog from the far end of the

house. I wrapped my fingers around the knob and tried to turn it. The door was locked and I had

no real reason to break into the house—although that had never stopped me before. But breaking in

would mean more paperwork, and I really didn’t have the energy for that right now. I’d have to

come back later—or go back to the club to catch him there. Which wasn’t something I wanted to do,

despite the excited response from my pulse.
As I started walking back to the car, the dog’s barking became more frantic. It wasn’t the “get

away from here, this is my place” bark that canines all over the world used when strangers came

to the door. It was more the “something’s wrong, I need help” type of bark.
Curiosity stirred. I stepped across the little garden bed and peered into the front window. The

room beyond was a bedroom, but one that hadn’t been slept in often if the dust coating the

stacked pillows was anything to go by. The bedroom door was open, but I couldn’t see much more

than the shadows of a hallway.
There was a small metal gate to the right of the house, so I pushed that open and walked down the

side. Several windows lined this section of the building, but the curtains were all securely

closed. No surprise, given the owner