A Girl's Guide to Vampires

His eyes turned molten. "We damned well do." He grabbed my head and laid his lips on me so quickly, so hard and fast and full of unspoken demand, that I just stood there and let him kiss me. "Don't give up on me," he said in a low voice, his eyes burning me as his thumb brushed a line along my jaw. He looked over my head to Inspector Bartos. "You're making a mistake, Bartos. I can prove what I've said. If you'll just contact the Heidelberg police—"

"It is my mistake to make, you agree? Contacting the German police won't be necessary," Bartos told him. "You will remain available for interview."

Raphael's jaw tightened, but he nodded, then looked back at me. His thumb teased my lower lip. "Remember what I said," he warned me, then dropped his hand from my face and left the bar.

I stood brainless, bemused, so madly in love that I could just lie down on the floor kicking my heels and having a hissy fit over the way things had turned out, but we Randalls are made of sterner stuff. Raphael gave me much to think about, but unfortunately—"I am ready for you now, Miss Randall," Bartos said behind me.

I watched through the window as Raphael strode across the parking lot, heading back to the meadow. He looked so tired and frustrated, I wanted to cradle his head against my breasts and make everything all better.

"Miss Randall?"

Two policemen passed Raphael on their way in to the hotel. He literally stood head and shoulders above them, the very embodiment of masculinity. I sighed. He certainly was perfect, if you were willing to overlook the fact that he was pigheaded and stubborn, had difficulty trusting people, and didn't want to need anyone.

"Miss Randall, the morning is passing. If it would not be too troublesome, I would like to conduct your interview now."

Raphael disappeared from view. I turned to look at Bartos, not really seeing him. The conversation Raphael had with Bartos was very interesting. Had he volunteered advice? About the murder in Heidelberg? Perhaps he had decided to come clean with the police regarding his past… then again, the way Bartos demanded he remain available for interview was not a sign the police viewed him as innocent.

"The chair is very comfortable, I assure you. And the table is a fine example of local craftsmanship. If you would just seat yourself, I believe you will agree."

What did Raphael mean about not giving up on him? What kind of a demand was that for him to make of me? He'd given up on me even before we had a chance, hadn't he? And just what did give up mean? Ha! I knew what he wanted. He wanted me to fawn all over him, telling him how marvelous he was no matter how terribly he treated me. How dare he expect me to stay devoted to him, consumed by thoughts of him, thinking of him to the exclusion of all else?

"Miss Randall, my wife is expecting me home for dinner this evening. Shall I tell her otherwise?"

Well, I wouldn't do it! I just wouldn't! If he wanted a devoted slave, a groupie, he could just look elsewhere. I had too much self-respect to turn myself into a doormat just so his manly ego could stomp all over it. Give up on him, ha!

Inspector Bartos sighed, his moustache ruffling with the force of it. I blinked and realized I had been staring at him. "What? Did you just ask me to dinner?"

His lips compressed to a hard line. "Have you returned to us?"

"Returned? What are you talking about? I've been standing here waiting for you. Are you ready now?"

He looked like he wanted to sigh again, but shook his head instead. "Yes, I am ready for you. If you will please sit?"

The interview didn't cover any new ground. I didn't understand why they wanted me to go over my actions the night before again and again, but figured maybe they were waiting for me to suddenly crack and admit I killed Tanya, or make some glaring mistake retelling my story that would indicate I was lying through my teeth. I did neither.

Until he started asking the hard questions.

"Is it true that two days ago Tanya Renauld said to you"—he flipped a couple of pages in his notebook—"that she would only be happy when you were dead?"

My stomach wadded up into a tiny ball and rattled around my body. I wondered who had snitched on me—Roxy? Christian? It had to be Roxy; I doubted the inspector had found Christian before he disappeared for the day. I frowned at that thought, wondering why Christian had remained silent through the night if he was innocent. Could he have been wounded somehow? Restrained by some means? In light of his innocence, his silence took on a new, more worrisome meaning.

"Um… maybe."

Inspector Bartos looked up from his notebook. "Maybe? Could you be more specific? Did she threaten you or not?"

My palms started sweating. "Well… yes, she did. But she was very angry—"

"Immediately upon threatening your life, did she throw a bucket of water on you?"

There was no use denying it; too many people had seen us. I gnawed on my lower lip and nodded.