First Drop of Crimson by Jeaniene Frost

shirt, trailing her hands down his flesh once it hung open.
    Spade allowed her to explore for another minute. Then he spun her around, her warm back heating his chest, her pulse—so close to his mouth—jumping with excitement. She rubbed, catlike, against him, letting out a moan as he brushed her hair back and nuzzled her neck. He kept dancing as he held her, unconcerned about letting his fangs show in this crowd, or in bending his head to her throat. Anyone watching would think it was an act, the same pantomime that had been played out countless times tonight. And she’d never know it had been the real thing once he was done mesmerizing her.
    Right before he sank his teeth into her neck, however, a sharp whistle jerked his head up. Ian stood next to the railing over the dance floor, gesturing almost lazily toward the exit.
    “Thought you’d want to know. Denise just ran off.”

Chapter Nine
    Her heart pounded and panic vibrated just below the surface. Denise increased her pace, wishing she could somehow outrun her feelings. The worst part was, this had nothing to do with her PTSD.
    She couldn’t help but watch as Spade stalked off to the dance floor, contemplating the people on it the same way a predator eyed a herd. Then that black-haired woman sashayed up, almost dry-humping the air in front of him. And he’d gone with her. Started to move in a way that the word dancing didn’t even begin to describe. Denise’s mouth had gone dry and her palms started to sweat. As the buttons came off Spade’s shirt and his pale, hard flesh was revealed in the fluorescent lighting, her pulse began to thump, too. His corded muscles rippled with each new bend and sway he made, that aura of dangerousness replaced with raw, blistering sensuality instead.
    And when he’d spun the woman around, his black hair sliding forward to cover his face as he bent to her throat, pure, adulterated heat had slammed into Denise. It was so fierce, so unexpected, and so overwhelming that she’d trembled in her seat—only to be shaken out of her trance at Ian’s low chuckle.
    “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you, poppet?”
    From the expression on Ian’s face, he knew exactly what she’d been feeling—and what had inspired it.
    So she’d run like hell. Better Spade think she was crazy than realize the truth, as Ian had.
    Some fuzzy part of her recognized that the places she passed seemed to blur together. She had no idea where she was going. Away was good enough right now. At this hour, traffic was light enough that she didn’t need to pause before crossing the streets, or maybe she didn’t care about causing cars to slam on their brakes. Such tall buildings, narrow streets, and endless concrete. It felt like she was in a maze that was slowly closing in on her. Even the night’s sky was only visible in small slits between the buildings looming above.
    An iron grip closed around her elbow. Denise jerked away, but that grip didn’t budge. Instead she was swept up against a hard, tall body, her feet swinging in the air with how rapidly she’d been grabbed.
    “Let go!” she gasped.
    Spade’s face was very close. He’d left his jacket back at the club and obviously hadn’t stopped to button up his shirt, either, because his muscled, bare chest pressed against her sweater.
    “You’re all right, Denise,” he said firmly. “Nothing’s coming after you. You’re safe.”
    Of course. Spade thought she was in the midst of another panic attack. That was partly true, only for a different reason.
    “I’m okay now. I just…needed to get away from there,” she said, her breath coming in pants.
    Spade’s eyes narrowed and he relaxed his grip, but didn’t let her go. Denise tried to slow her breathing, praying her previous bout of lust wouldn’t raise its head again.
    “I see.”
    He still hadn’t let her go. Denise wiggled experimentally. His grip loosened more, but his arms stayed where they were.
    Denise cast about for