Blood Red Dawn by Karen E. Taylor Page B

or pleasure?”
    â€œIt’s sort of hard to say. I’m heading ultimately for New Orleans by way of New York. And from there? I have no idea.”
    â€œAnd what do you do for a living?”
    â€œI’m a retired policeman. Most recently I was a bartender.”
    â€œTwo very useful occupations.”
    â€œDamn straight they are.”
    We clinked our glasses together. Diane had a effortless laugh and her skin smelled fresh and clean. When she inched a little closer to me, I didn’t move away. Instead I motioned the bartender to bring her another glass of wine and watched her unwind before me.
    After three glasses she was telling me her life’s history, her words only slightly slurred. “You know, Mitch,” she giggled, holding her glass up to what little light gleamed in the bar, “I only drink pink drinks.”
    â€œPink drinks?”
    â€œYes, pink drinks. That same momma who told me it wasn’t good to drink alone taught me that a lady is always a lady provided she only drinks pink drinks.”
    I laughed. “It’s important to have a smart mother.”
    She nodded and hiccuped. “Excuse me,” she said, “she also taught me to not overstay my welcome. I’ve enjoyed your company, Mitch, but I think I need to call it a night. I’m still on eastern time.”
    I nodded. “I understand.”
    As Diane got up from the barstool, the straps of her purse tangled around her ankles and she pitched forward, landing practically in my lap. “Oh, God, I’m sorry, I’m so clumsy.”
    â€œNot at all,” I said. My hunger raged from the close contact and although I felt guilty taking from her, I knew that I would. I stood up and gently took her arm. “My momma taught me to never allow ladies who’ve been drinking pink drinks to walk home unescorted. May I walk you to your room?”
    â€œI thought you’d never ask,” she said, gripping my arm. The heat of her skin was more intoxicating than the scotch had ever been. I felt uneasy, though, unsure of how far to take this seduction. I liked her and didn’t want to frighten or hurt her.
    She solved the problem for me on the elevator by passing out, leaning up against my side. I felt the slackness of her body as all of the tension dropped out of her and I caught her before she could fall. From there, I carried her to her room and opened the door. She didn’t move as I unfastened the buckles on her shoes and she didn’t make a sound when I laid her in the bed, pulling the covers up over her.
    When my mouth came down on her neck, she reached a hand up and stroked the back of my head, making a low moaning sound. Her blood tasted as pure and clean as she smelled and I drank her in. When I felt as if I’d taken enough to sustain me, I forced myself to withdraw my fangs.
    â€œDon’t go,” she murmured as I pulled away.
    â€œI have to, Diane. You’re a lady and I’m a gentleman and what would Momma say?”
    She laughed softly. “Momma would say ‘thank you.’ ”
    â€œNo, thank you,” I said. “Now you go to sleep and forget I was ever here.”
    She gave a contented sigh and dropped back into sleep.
    Â 
    It was good that I’d been able to feed before we hit Heathrow. Otherwise, I’d have been totally overwhelmed by the mass of humanity there. People were everywhere, pushing and jostling, different ages, different races and nationalities, single businessmen and women alongside large families with crying babies. The noise level was almost deafening, a cacophony of languages so disorienting it made my head ache.
    Vivienne clung to Sam as if he were a life raft and Lily, I noticed, did the same with Claude. The line to check luggage seemed endless but was a necessity, if only so that Sam could have his medicinal bag when we arrived in New York. With heightened airline security there was no sense in trying to