Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Diary of Daniella Rolfe By

Dawné Dominique

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

2

© copyright by Dawné Dominique, Nov. 2007 Cover art by Alex DeShanks, Nov. 2007 ISBN 978-1-60394-107-5 New Concepts Publishing Lake Park, GA 31636 www.newconceptspublishing.com

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

3

Chapter One: Diary Entry

The Twenty First day of August, in the year Two Thousand and Seven: It is not every day you will read such words. I write upon this parchment not in an effort to advocate who or what I am, for your opinion means little to me. I mean no disrespect by these words, but there are veils in this world that carefully conceal creatures such as I. Know this—it is not for fame that I compose these pages, for there are enough stories transcribing my kind. The many volumes filled with fairy-like tales and the various renditions of movies that reveal us as beautiful do nothing for the truth of the matter, though it does provide you humans with amusement. No, vanity is not the reason I sit here and write, as you will soon find out. My hope is to make you understand why I have undertaken this arduous task of creating such a diary. I shall try, to the best of my ability, to enlighten those who are brave enough to learn … and those curious enough to read on. But I believe proper introduction is in order, and I do apologize for my apparent rudeness. My name is Daniella Rolfe, and I am the last of The First. In this modern day world where I dwell in mixed harmony with you humans, I find myself holding fast to luxuries of old. I have not put away things such as candles and delicate quill pens. My penchant for antiquated furniture holds no bounds. I live like a chameleon, maneuvering myself from era to era, striving to be as normal as possible amongst you bloodfilled through these ever-changing times. Do not ask me my age, for such inconsequential details are unimportant to me, and I lost count centuries ago. I will confess that I have been hunted, glorified, scorned and even revered as a goddess. Although I do not deny my heretic lineage, I ask that you not judge me until you finish reading these words. The year was 1304 when I emerged from the womb of a human mother, yet I am not mortal. I did not suckle milk from her breast like other infants, but rather my hunger was quelled by the drawing of her blood. A swaddling babe born a blood drinker was not a common occurrence. As your history books correctly depict, abominations such as I were sacrificed without thought or guilt. It is the nature of all beasts, is it not? Destroy that which you do not understand? But for the love of a maternal mother, I survived those dark, medieval times, kept hidden from prying eyes and random witch hunts of evil. My mother’s demise occurred in the year 1312, when I was still only a child, not yet knowing that the transference of my blood could have kept her by my side today. I have learned much through these vast centuries, though I had no mentor to guide me in the ways of vampiric survival. I was alone, suffering like a feral dog, but I survived nonetheless. My insatiable hunger for blood enabled me to grow from a child to a woman more quickly than normal. The genetics of my unknown father grew stronger in me with each adolescent year that passed, to become what I am now. Strange thought it was, when I entered adulthood, my feeding patterns altered. I remember well the serfs huddled in their fear, grasping vials of holy water against their beating blood-filled hearts. They surrounded themselves with crosses of deities that never

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

4

affected me. Humans have relentlessly tried to deny my existence but yet, the blinding terror I sense in their souls before I feed tells me otherwise. They know me even before my elongated teeth sink into their warm, supple skin. Today, I am what humanity shuns as reality. This modern era has epitomized me as a seductress blood drinker and every movie and book depicts me as beautiful and dangerous, and to some extent, I will not deny that I fit into that category, though I admit this rather modestly. I dress the part of a wealthy businesswoman as I have acquired much wealth since my birth. I lack for no luxury. My skin is pale, but with the aid of modern day cosmetics, its translucency is easily concealed. My hair, I am told, is the crowning glory of my beauty. Dark as midnight, glints of gold glow within its thick tresses, trailing down to the middle of my slender back. Many women have attempted to imitate what I look like and I cannot help but wonder why. I do not care for such trivial things. Although you know me as a huntress, I kill only to survive. I take the wicked of hearts— men and women deemed evil in your eyes, and mine. Then there is my blood cycle, of which I will not elaborate further, for you will find this out later. In all the years I have lived, I find myself greatly amused by this 21st century. Debauchery, greed, and gluttony have become a standard way of life, although its discretion has changed drastically since my first mewling cry. Creatures such as I were hunted like rabid animals. Today, humans kill as indiscriminately as any blood drinker past or present. And you humans proclaim I am the monster? I am untouched by life, or death. My skin, unless I’ve recently fed, is quite pale, and as I mentioned, such imperfections are easily disguised. There is one thing, however, that your storybooks and myths do not reveal about The First. My blood is warm and it flows through my body similar to yours. Although my heart does not beat, nor do I breathe, this warm, coppery substance keeps me alive, needing replenishment once a month, much like a human needs a blood transfusion. I am unlike my vampire kin, who must feed every night. I walk anonymously among you humans. Yes, you are fodder for my thirst, but I am something you have not yet learned. I must make the distinction here that in this modern world, evil takes many guises under one form of authority or another. I have become but a small player in this vast world of cruelty. True, there are some who still denounce and curse the soil upon which I walk, but there are others who seek me out, begging for the gift that I will never share. To think it a gift appalls me to the point of utter disgust. I’ve known for centuries that it is nothing but a curse and that I alone must bear it. Although I have sought no others like me, I know I am not alone—but I am the last of my kind. In accordance with any theory of evolution, the mixing of pure First blood with human genealogy brought forth diverse characteristics that have changed both my species, as well as humankind. The crossover from vampiric to human was inevitable and I place the blame upon Adam and Lilthe, his first wife. As single celled organisms inevitably evolve, so too does the food chain. My species evolved by the sharing of blood with humans. I must point out that vampires per se are not born. They are created blood drinkers. They come into existence through a bite and the transference of vampire blood. ‘The First’, such as myself, are born blood drinkers. How or why is a mystery, for I have known no other like me. The vampires, my kith, are twisted replicas of what I am. Their created

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

5

vampiric form inevitably came from a First, but laws of evolution strained the bloodline, creating those that cannot walk beneath the heat of a sun, or digest a sip of a well aged wine. Who created them, I do not know. Both I and the vampire species moved swiftly up the food chain, standing where we are today … at its very peak. There is no other mammal stronger than I. Moreover, I boast not at all about this fact, for you must remember that I, unlike a mere vampire, am warm blooded, similar to yourself. Although my body temperature remains at ninety-four degrees, that is until the beginning of my blood cycle, I am more human than vampire. The purest blood fills my veins, gleaned from The First who bedded my mother. I feign ignorance at the creation of such atrocities as the vampire, for I have never interlaced my blood with human. I take great pride in that knowledge. I am a virgin of The First and I vow I will remain so until death claims me. But alas, it is why I write this confession of sorts, for I do not know how long I can adhere to this solemn promise I have never broken. A human man is the reason I sit and write these words. His spell surrounds me in a web that I cannot escape—nor do I wish to. It all began when Aidan Blackmore, a police officer, attended my domain to investigate a break-in that I and a number of other tenants in my building suffered. Tall and broad of shoulder, he proved professional in every aspect. His casual shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, revealed dark, chocolate hair curling at the hollow of his throat. Yes, I confess, necks fascinate me at the best of times. He moved like a Nile panther, and I found myself watching him, enthralled as this human conducted the necessary tasks needed to investigate such a trivial crime. To me, I did not care what was stolen, for I planned to hunt down the thieves and drink my fill of those who dared defile my holy domain. To my surprise, this human, Aidan, revealed concern over my well-being, and the loss of belongings that held menial value to me. I find such kindness in humans rare in this modern age. Aidan's ice-green eyes seared through my soul. I always held fast to the power I possess to entice and bend reality around me. Imagine my shock when it was he who ignited such a spell first. You should know that I never dream. My sleep is dark and empty like the night that surrounds me. It provides rest and sustenance to a soulless body and that is all. So, when Aidan's face came to me in the ebony gloom of my cold, solitary slumber, I was shocked, for I thought perhaps I had, at last, ended my immortal life. Now his face haunts my days, as well as nights. He is never far from my mind, for I want him here ... beside me ... forever.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

6

Chapter Two: Imbroglio Detective Aiden Blackmore walked up the cracked, concrete steps, entering Kirkland’s Police Department on First Avenue. He stopped at the banister leading upstairs to the main squad room and shouted out to Fred Murdock. “Hey ya, Fred. How many more days left now?” “Twenty-two and counting,” he answered, his silver spectacles glinting in the harsh florescent lights. A salt and pepper mustache straightened across his thick upper lip as he offered the detective a wide, crooked grin. Shaking his head and chuckling, a deep rumbling sound that erupted from the bottom of his chest, Aiden smirked back. “Damn, it’ll be good to retire from all this luxury, won’t it?” Without waiting for a reply, he loped upward, taking the remaining steps two at a time. The brownstone building of police headquarters had certainly seen better days. Waterstained tiles lined the ceiling of the large, open floor area and desks dating back from the late sixties stood scattered around the room. The only privacy afforded to the city’s detectives consisted of dull, gray cubicle boards that either leaned or curved. Aiden ambled to a shadowed corner on the left-hand side of the squad room. His shabby little desk and lamp was a welcome fixture after the lavish penthouse he’d just returned from. With his back facing the wall, he could watch everyone coming or going in the department, and the anonymity of being unnoticed suited him just fine. Throwing his worn, black blazer over the backrest of his chair, he squinted at the glass windows that separated Captain Barlow’s office from the rest of the room. The gleam of his boss’ bald spot infuriated him, more so today than any other. He inhaled deeply, quelling his rising anger. Barlow was on the phone, but he would wait. No use barging in there, screaming like a banshee, he grumbled to himself. Leaning his muscled, six foot two frame against the wall by his desk so he could watch Barlow, Aiden nodded every once in a while to a passing detective. He studied his fingernails, willing his breathing to slow. When Barlow hung up the phone, he pushed through the captain’s door without knocking, slamming it shut behind him. Barlow lowered his glasses to the perch of his nose, looking not the least bit surprised. “You got a problem, Blackmore?” he asked, crumbling up a piece of paper and tossing the wad into a wastepaper basket beside him. Leaning back in his tan, leather chair, the captain laced his fingers together and placed them behind his neck, looking up at the younger detective with an expression of disdain. “How could you send me out on that … that idiot call? I work the crime unit, investigating murders—not B & Es. For Christ sake, Captain ….” “That’s enough, Aiden,” Barlow growled out. “You know the reason why. I have the Mayor and several council members breathing down my neck because of your little stunt last week. Just pray like hell the kid doesn’t press charges. And from what I hear through the department’s grapevine, you’re not going to be too lucky.” “That little shit took a swing at me first!” he retorted, running a hand through his dark, chestnut hair, trying to rein his frustration.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

7

The captain leaned forward, his face softening. “And that little shit’s Momma is fucking the Mayor's brother-in-law, for Christ sake. When a Kirkland police officer beats a kid half to death, there’s hell to pay, and Blackmore, you’d better start coughing up some tokens for the reaper. That woman is a grade-A bitch.” Scrunching up his face in distaste, he leaned back in his chair. “Look, I’m not saying the kid didn’t deserve it, Aiden,” he added with a tinge of sympathy creeping into his voice, “but damn it, we uphold the law, not break it. Just be thankful you’re not suspended.” “I gave the punk a black eye and that’s all. It’s a far cry from ‘beating the shit out him’. Jesus, Captain, you bumped me down to investigating B & E's for people too rich and stupid to lock their doors, or buy alarm systems? We have a serial killer slicing and dicing innocent people out there, and you take me off the case because some rich bitch’s kid had some manners smacked into him? This is absolute bullshit!” “Bullshit or not, that’s what you’ll continue to do until internal affairs clears this horseshit off my desk. Got it?” Barlow’s gray, beady eyes narrowed as an angry flush crept over his thin, pasty face. He loosened the silk tie around his linen shirt and began to read a document on his desk—a clear indication that he wanted this conversation ended. Aiden clenched and unclenched his fists. Arguing with the captain was futile and he knew it. “Sure, I get it. So what if I landed a few good lickings on a smart-ass kid? He deserved it for assaulting a police officer. Where the hell’s my justice? He was trying to sell an ounce of coke to me, for Christ sake!” “There’s no denying the kid has shit for brains, but you should have restrained yourself. Remember, you’re the adult and an officer of the law,” he reprimanded, pursing his thin lips. The memory of the arrest flashed through Aiden’s mind. He’d pulled out his badge and arrested the teen on the spot for trafficking. As things went, the snot-nosed kid protested and screamed all the way down the alley about how his mother was so important, and that he’d have Aiden’s pecker for breakfast. When he tried to get the kid inside the backseat of his unmarked police car, that’s when all hell broke loose. The shit for brains turned, spitting in his face and, with handcuffs still on, he spun and landed a lucky punch across his face, splitting open his lip. Barlow rose to his feet and moved toward the back window overlooking First Avenue and the dwindling congestion of rush hour traffic. “You should have stopped before you beat the living crap out of him, Aiden, or at least not left marks,” the captain murmured, gazing at the street below. Barlow’s voice broke through Aiden's reverie. With a guttural snarl, the detective turned and marched out of the captain's office. Barlow was too late when he called out, “And don’t slam ….” Aiden swung the door so hard, the window beside it wobbled and rattled, but thankfully remained intact. Every head in the department turned his way. The thunderous expression etched on the detective’s usually cheerful face caused many officers to feign disinterest and carry on with whatever they were doing. Ignoring them all, he stormed toward his desk, snatched up his jacket and, without a backward glance, he left. **** Nursing his fourth scotch on the rocks, Aiden sat on a barstool at Nickolette’s, a convenient tavern located just a few blocks from his modest apartment on the corner of Osborne and Delaney Avenue. His thoughts meandered to the beautiful woman he’d met earlier that afternoon. “Damn, she was hot,” he murmured, taking another sip.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

8

“Say something, Aiden?” Denny asked with a curious tilt of his head. Bleary-eyed, he looked up, realizing he’d spoken aloud. “Naw. Just pissed off.” He’d already shared what had happened between him and Barlow, and it made little sense to rehash the conversation again. Denny Gallagher, the long time bartender of Nickolette's, provided a friendly face and a warm, easy smile that he needed right now. They'd been friends for about ten years, ever since he had moved to the neighborhood, and Denny bought the tavern from old Sam Nickolette. His stare swept over the back wall where his buddy's few commendations hung like lonely trophies amidst the many bottles of booze. Once a Kirkland cop like himself, Denny had retired after some dumb ass ran him over while he was issuing a speeding ticket to another motorist, shattering both his legs. Wiping the already gleaming bar, Denny stuffed the pristine rag under the shelf, crossing his arms over a barrel-sized chest. With rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes, he offered his usual fatherly-like smile. “Try not to let it get you down,” he said. Aiden glanced around the dimly lit room. The small place seated perhaps twenty patrons at most, and at this time of night, only a smattering of people occupied the cozy, Irish theme tavern. A few couples sat in darkened corners, conversing quietly, while several older men huddled in shadowed areas, looking for a place to drown their sorrows, like him. “You should be thinking about a vixen with large boobs and legs that lead to heaven.” Aiden chuckled at Denny’s description. He was old school—a gentleman in every sense. He never used vulgarity like most men and, being Irish, he found this indeed peculiar, but it was just another trait he loved about the bartender. “Come to think of it, I did see such a lady today.” “Do tell.” The crinkles around Denny's eyes stretched with his smirk. He didn't speak the words, but he liked listening to others talk about sex. Taking the last sip of scotch, he pushed his empty glass forward. “One more … for the road.” He realized his words slurred and promptly decided to leave his car parked out front and stumble back to his apartment on foot. Lord knew it wouldn’t be the first time. When Denny returned with his drink, Aiden continued, “Well, I answered this B & E call today, down by Carellon and River Drive. You know, overlooking the water, the building with the top floor as one huge penthouse? Man, it was sweet. Some crooks hit several tenants in the building. A fast, clean job too, maybe two, three guys at the most.” He paused, running his fingers through his hair, thinking it was time for a haircut, but he pushed the thought away. “I’ve never seen furniture like this. I’m no antique expert, but hell, everything in this suite screamed moola…and lots of it.” “Damn, Aiden, what about the woman? I don’t care what her place looked like,” Denny mocked, sporting a wide grin. A strange sensation suddenly hit him then, slithering up from the tips of his toes right to the end of his hair follicles. Glancing over his shoulder, Aiden looked toward the door and, as if on cue, the damn thing opened. A chill, evening wind blew in like a frigid breath, settling around his shoulders, causing a shiver to run down his spine. In walked a man wearing a trench coat, his hat pulled down so low that it obscured his face. The stranger stood for a moment, shaking off a fine mist of rain that had begun falling outside, before he shuffled over to a corner table by the window and sat down.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

9

“I’ll be right back,” Denny mumbled, limping over to take the order. On weeknights like this, few people frequented the tavern and Den could provide adequate service without the aid of his cane or having to call his lovely wife, Anna, who worked the bar during the day. Aiden felt a familiar warning itch between his shoulder blades as he watched his friend take the order, a cop’s instincts flaring to life. Staring at the old guy, he saw nothing out of the ordinary other than just a harmless man in his mid-sixties. His crumpled, red and black flannel shirt and faded pants were nondescript and when the barkeep returned to his table with a frosty bottle of Miller draft, the old man leaned back in his chair and drank in silence. Aiden looked away, but he could not shake the feeling of eyes upon him. Peering through the picturesque window beside the stranger, all he saw were shimmering trails of raindrops sliding down the glass. The street outside appeared deserted. Denny returned and it was easy to tell that his enthusiasm to hear more about the woman hadn’t waned in the least. With a mischievous smirk, he placed his elbows on the bar, waiting for Aiden to continue. Shaking the strange sensation away, he took a large gulp of his fresh scotch. Damn nerves is all, he mused. Offering his friend a half grin, he continued with his story. “Well, the woman, she was pretty damn amazing. Our fair city isn’t that big, Denny ol' boy, but I’ve never seen her before, and let me tell ya, this is a lady you’d never forget. Her hair, it was jet-black and hung almost straight down to her ass—” “Finally, the good parts!” “Her ass …. Whoa! It was like an apple. You just wanted to sink your teeth into it and ….” “I'm hungry already, but what about her legs?” Well aware of Den's propensity for women's legs, Aiden’s shoulders slumped, his brows folding into a frown. “Are you gonna let me finish?” he asked. Laughing, Denny grabbed a rag, swinging it over his shoulder so that it lay like part of his attire. “Well, you’re taking your sweet time,” he said, tilting his chin toward his glass. “No more for you until you finish the story.” “Okay, okay, just let me finish, damn you. Now where was I?” Tapping his finger against his lip, Aiden smirked. “Oh, yeah, her ass connected to two long legs that just went forever. She wore this business suit and if she had leaned over, I swear I’d see garters and silk stockings. The matching blazer was cut low and she had this red scarf wrapped around her neck just so.” He paused, using his hands to demonstrate. “And two perfect mounds pushed together just waiting for…” He suddenly stopped, his story taking on a life of its own. The throbbing he felt between his legs shocked him, and he found himself fumbling to say the right words. Talking about women had never had such an effect on him before. Denny leaned over. “Hey? You all right?” Aiden leaned back on the barstool, placing his hands over the bulge of his crotch. His friend's voice sounded distant, like he was talking to him underwater. His face flushed with an instant fever, and a wave of wooziness made him suddenly want to vomit. The sensation subsided, but he could still feel the residual affects, like an early killer hangover. “Yeah, no … II just drank too much, Den,” he mumbled. “I think I’ll walk home now.” Moving out from behind the bar, Denny helped him off the barstool. Together they limped to the door. When they passed the old man sitting alone in the corner, Aiden gave the stranger a sidelong glance, but the old man appeared oblivious to them.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

10

“Are you sure you’re okay to walk home? I can call Anna, if you wanna wait.” He shook his head. “No, don’t call her. I’ll be fine. Just had a head rush, probably 'cause I haven’t eaten too much these past couple of days. I've got some cold pizza at home—I'll be fine.” “Promise me you’ll call when you get there, okay?” Denny still looked concerned, but Aiden waved him away and pushed himself out the door. The air swirled around him, damp and chilly, just the thing to clear his head. He stumbled left toward his apartment building. Fumbling with the key outside the security door, he finally made it inside to the warmth and dryness of his small, unlit hovel. He dismissed the open pizza box sitting on the kitchen counter next to yesterday's unwashed dishes. Exhaustion settled deep within his bones, but he promptly called Denny before throwing off his clothes and climbing into bed. He fell asleep thinking of the beautiful and mysterious, Daniella Rolfe.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

11

Chapter Three: Fodder La’Oggie’s nightclub teemed with an array of Kirkland’s affluent people, many of them searching for something—a human touch, an escape from reality, anything to take them away from their mundane lives, if only for one night. Daniella was here to feed—and soon. Swallowing repeatedly in an effort to draw back the elongation of her canines, she forced down the coursing necessity, concentrating on the throng jostling around her. This mounting need was a compulsion now, and if not soothed, she risked losing herself in a feeding. Throughout the centuries, she’d learned early that waiting too long to replenish her plasma resulted in dire consequences. This hunger crept to the forefront of her consciousness during her monthly blood cycle and nothing would appease it but the fount of hot, blood tantalizing her palate. Daniella knew she’d waited too long to hunt. Between her many meetings and unending phone calls, the biggest delay was the police officers refusing to leave her penthouse. Detective Blackmore’s face suddenly loomed in her mind and she staggered, shocked at the power this human held over her. She’d only met him for mere moments, yet he seemed to haunt her in ways she’d never experienced before. His image vanished when the booming bass of the club’s techno music silenced and her night-vision faltered. In the dark recesses of her mind, she heard it—a single heartbeat drawing her forward. The music then roared back to life as the neon lights of the nightclub blinded her now sensitive eyes. Yes, she thought. You will do quite nicely. Taking a compact out of her clutch purse, she ensured the blueness of her lips remained concealed behind deep carmine lipstick. Satisfied, she closed her purse and followed the enticing scent, like a male wolf tracking a bitch in heat. As she made her way up the winding staircase to the private entertainment rooms above, she cowered away from touching people, her skin far below normal temperature now. Moving with the sinuous grace of a ballerina, she halted on the landing. "Yes," she whispered. In her mind, an image of a man sitting on an expensive leather settee overlooking the balcony and dance floor below filled her awareness. Several beautiful women flanked him on both sides, vying for his attention. Lifting her delicate nose in the air, she caught his scent, her ears discerning that particular beat her internal radar had picked up downstairs. "Perfect." She approached the entrance of the private room, but two large bodyguards blocked her path. Nonchalantly sliding her hand in between them, they parted without argument. She approached her quarry and stopped, waiting to gain his attention. When he looked up, she heard his quick intake of breath. The heat of his eyes roved over her red, clinging halter-dress before lingering down her bare legs that ended with a sexy pair of black stiletto sandals. Electric fire raced through her and she smiled without showing her teeth. "I wish to leave this place and wonder, would you care to join me?" she asked, studying the stranger’s virile body and handsome features. His skin looked dark, perhaps Latino or Mulatto, and she was in the mood for a little chocolate. Black, curly hair tumbled in soft, loose curls, falling just below his ear lobes. An unbuttoned pristine shirt revealed a tanned, hairless chest. Her gaze trailed

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

12

upward to the delicate pumping of the heart at his jugular, and she closed her eyes, forcing her canines’ back again. I want you … now! She compelled the thought into his mind, holding out her slender hand. Indignant gasps and sneer-filled looks followed from the whores sitting at his side, but he rose to his feet, unable to refuse her demand. "Caro," he murmured as he approached. Bending to kiss her pale knuckles, his accent hinted at mixture of nationalities, although mainly Italian, and much of it forced, she noted with disdain. He stood a full head taller and his daunting size proved perfect for her needs. Leaning close to his ear, she whispered, "You shall warm more than just my bed this night." Running her tongue along the lower edge of his earlobe, she gently bit the skin, feeling him tremble against her. "Come, I have a driver waiting." She led him past the two inert bodyguards still caught under her spell and unaware of the shrill, protesting cries of the snubbed women. They exited the nightclub like long lost lovers. Together, they entered the waiting limousine. Without a word, the chauffeur closed the car door and took his seat in front, revving the engine before taking off. Now alone with this man, Daniella fought her hunger more stringently. Placing a diminutive spell of subservience over her tasty morsel, she turned her attention out the window, watching the city scenery fly by, her thoughts turning to the rugged police officer yet again. Leaning her head against the glass, she fantasized what it would be like to have him sitting next to her, but that would never happen. She had learned never to tempt fate, especially with those who held authoritative power. The sound of the stranger’s jeans rustling against the leather seat drew her attention back to him. "What's your name," she asked. "Trenton … Trenton Savino." A slight quiver resonated in his voice as his eyes lingered on the fullness of her breasts. She sensed the hardness growing between his legs. Perhaps just a tease to keep my hunger at bay, she mused. Sliding closer, she ran the palm of her hand on the outside of his right thigh, staring deep into his sable eyes. "You are all mine tonight," she hummed under her breath. Slipping her hand along the inside of his leg, she ran the tips of her fingernails down the denim crease, relishing the feel of rippling muscles beneath her touch. His breathing increased in tempo, becoming short, harried pants that echoed in the stillness of the car. She grew damp watching his mounting desire. This was the part she enjoyed the best. The pulsating vein in his scrumptious neck drew her forward, pumping faster with each rapid beat of his heart. She moved closer, her tongue tracing the outside of his parted lips. A deep, throaty moan of pleasure shattered the silence. He exploded in violent spasms inside his jeans. Leaning his head back, his body continued to jerk several times before he turned, staring at her with eyes filled with utter awe. Not once did she touch his throbbing cock. Daniella bit her tongue and sucked at the sudden gush of blood filling her mouth, temporarily appeasing her hunger, and desire. Ashamed, Trenton turned away, like a school kid experiencing his first, quick fuck in the back seat of daddy’s car. Daniella couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. "Don’t worry, Mr. Savino. The night is still young, and we have plenty of time," she murmured. Reaching for her handbag, she applied another coat of lipstick to ensure the telltale tint of her lips remained

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

13

concealed. In addition to icy skin, her monthly blood cycle created a bluish hue that needed masking—a hypothermia-type symptom she despised. Trenton said not a word, but she felt his shock and chagrin. Staring back out the window, it wasn’t long before waterfront properties and harbors came into view. When the car stopped, the nondescript chauffeur jumped out, holding open the car door. He scurried to the entrance leading into her penthouse apartment and held the glass doors open for the couple. Slipping a hundred-dollar bill into the driver’s palm, Daniella sauntered past him. "You know the drill—please wait," she murmured. The chauffeur dipped his head and returned to the car. She took Trenton’s hand and led him inside a private elevator set apart from two others. He moved in a trance as she kept her spell wrapped around him. Her anticipation grew, along with her whetting appetite. The elevator doors opened right into her suite and she paused to insert a key, locking the lift on her floor, something she never had to do before. "Home sweet home," she announced, throwing her guest a sidelong glance. The revelatory signs of the recent break-in were still evident. Several expensive figurines and oil paintings were missing from their usual places, desk drawers stood open and black fingerprint dust marred every inch of her expensive furniture. When my blood cycle is over, you shall pay dearly for the desecration you’ve committed, she vented in silence, flinging back her head in fury. Her loose, ebony hair flowed down the length of her back like a gossamer shadow. Vampiric teeth lengthened and a surge of power radiated from her like licking flames of a fire. Lost in the throes of her fury, she turned, realizing too late that Trenton saw all this. He was fixated in fright. She waved her hand, banishing the scene from his mind. Feed and then extract your revenge—never mix the two together, she chastised herself. Tossing her purse onto an elegant Chinese apothecary chest standing beside the closed elevator doors, she sensed Trenton following on her heels like an obedient dog. She strolled to the massive wall of windows overlooking Carellon Drive and stopped behind an acrylic bar that boasted a ten-foot long aquarium in its center. A myriad of brightly colored fish swam through the center of the polymerized substance. As she poured herself a scotch, she watched the childlike fascination on her guest’s face as he continued to stare around her suite. Amidst the meticulously cared for antique furniture, Daniella had added touches of contemporary design to her decor. The modern bar worked well with the floor to ceiling windows of the open living room and the antiquated Queen Anne wing chair, upholstered in deep, wine velvet, complimented the stunning era differences. On the opposite side of the room, a massive black marble fireplace stood next to a Louis the 14th retable. Across from the desk stood a sable leather sectional adorned with several pristine throw cushions tasseled in gold, accentuating the brass inlay of the desk and the ochroid veins cutting into the ebony marble. "The bathroom is located on your left, past the fireplace and down the hall. It’s the first door on your right. There’s a shower and … something more comfortable to change into. Please, make yourself at home, Mr. Savino," she said, offering a sly smile. Closing his mouth, Trenton appeared to regain some of his composure. "Trenton…just Trenton will do. And your name?" he asked. "It’s Daniella." She took a delicate sip of scotch as she studied him above the rim of her glass. "Wouldn’t you like to freshen up?" Her request sounded like a scolding and she saw the

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

14

immediate flush of color blossom on his face. "Leave your clothes by the bathroom door and I’ll have them washed and pressed for you," she added, her face softening just a tad. With glass in hand, she walked out from behind the bar, running her tongue across the sharp points of her canine teeth, "Oh, and please hurry.” He mumbled a ‘sure’ before turning and almost running down the hall. Daniella put down her drink and made a call to the maid service. After she hung up the phone, she strolled toward the opposite hallway and entered her bedroom. She slipped the dress over her head, leaving it on the floor in a heap. When she heard the shower begin to run, she positioned herself on the center of the bed, her body awash with tremors of anticipation. Closing her eyes, Detective Blackmore flashed through her mind again. His haunting, ice green eyes, so similar to hers, seared through her, and the hunger she tried so hard to keep at bay rose to an unbearable ache. She writhed on the bed, caught in the throes of her blood cycle and carnal lust. Sliding a hand down between her legs …. "Daniella?" Pursing her lips in annoyance, she called out, "In here." Trenton entered the room looking like an Adonis in black satin PJ pants clinging to his muscular torso. Now shirtless, she could see droplets of water beaded on his mocha skin, sliding down over a washboard stomach. A trailing path of hair below his navel led to unknown pleasures she had yet to explore. Such exquisite beauty, she mused with a subtle smile, the image of the detective now vanquished from her mind. She raised herself on her elbows, and her teeth lengthened as she licked her lips in wanton desire. "Come to me, Mr. Savino," she whispered. Trenton approached the bed, his heated glare leering down the length of her perfect, naked body that shone in the dimness like polished alabaster stone. The growing bulge in his pants held Daniella’s attention. She lay back against the thick, white duvet, slipping her hands under the pillows to draw out two long, silk ties. She draped one of them around her neck, trailing it across her breasts, making both her nipples hard and erect. He growled and jumped on the bed. She moved effortlessly out of his way, only a blur to normal eyes. A look of astonishment creased over his face as she used inhuman strength to roll him over. "Don't worry, Mr. Savino. I will be gentle." There was no hiding her canines now and his eyes widened in shock. He opened his mouth to scream, but she secured one of the sashes over his mouth and tied it, his shout becoming nothing more than a muffled cry. Jerking his wrists upward, she tied the other scarf around them, securing both his hands to the bedposts. She positioned herself directly between his legs, pushing them further apart with her knees. With slow, teasing movements, she ran manicured nails down either side of his hard cock, refusing to touch what he wanted most. Even through his terror, he had no choice but to succumb to her practiced touches, for she’d perfected many techniques throughout the ensuing centuries. As she continued her taunting, he groaned, lifting his hips higher, wanting more. I have to appease one gnawing hunger at a time. She leaned forward and scraped her teeth across the supple skin of his neck, leaving a trail of vivid, red marks. Still, she refused to cut through the epidermis, wallowing in the tease before the feast. As she played against his body, he moaned aloud in both pain and pleasure. Like hypodermic needles, Daniella sunk her canines in at last, breaking through his flesh. She swooned when the hot, sweet blood flowed like lava over her tongue. Crashing waves of ecstasy filled her, and with each pull of her mouth, she grew wetter and wetter. When his movements slowed, she drew back, refusing to take more than necessary.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

15

Losing herself in the torridity that now raced through her veins, she arched her back like a feline in heat. With one hunger somewhat ebbed, she leaned close to Trenton’s ear and whispered, "Now, it is time to play, Mr. Savino." His breathing slowed, low and even, and with his eyes closed, he appeared on the verge of sleep, but she knew that, although he was weak, his awareness remained. She never took that away from her bed partners. Sliding her clit along his stomach, she relished in the rising swells of pleasure. Hearing a soft, guttural moan escape his lips, she moved downward until she sat on his stiff shaft. With feeble attempts, he struggled in vain against the ties holding his wrists as she slithered her pussy up and down the satin material of his PJ bottoms. Cold fire inflamed not only the new blood, but also every acute sense her body possessed. She felt herself soaking through the flimsy, silk material. "Relax, Mr. Savino. Teasing is monumental to foreplay, don’t you think?" She bent forward, her tongue dancing around his navel as she worked her way downward. With one fluid pull, she ripped the pants from his body and straddled him. "Look at me!" she commanded. He opened eyes that were full of helplessness, but also a salacious urgency that matched her own. Running a finger over her lips, she slipped the digit into her mouth, licking and sucking it until it glistened. Trenton heaved upward, trying to push his cock inside her, but she squeezed her thighs tighter, hampering his movements. She removed the finger from her mouth, and danced it across her nipple. The paleness of her skin made each areola look almost black in the muted light of the bedroom. She threw back her head and closed her eyes. Knowing Trenton watched only heightened her arousal. She grasped one between her fingers and pinched. Electricity flared through her body and she savored the delectable sensations that ran up and down her spine. "Un…untie…touch you," he stuttered past the sash in his mouth. She removed the gag. "All in due time." She emitted a low, teasing chuckle. Moving her hand down between her legs, she spread open the dripping lips of her pussy, shuddering as her fingertip brushed across her engorged clit. Trenton shuddered with her, watching with heated longing. He began maniacally thrusting his thighs up, begging in a hoarse whisper, "Let me touch you. Damn it, just let me touch you!" With a dainty shake of her head, Daniella ran her fingers back and forth along the inside folds of her labia, making her pussy purr, teasing herself with a delicate touch on her erect bud every so often. She felt her juices drowning the cock resting just between the crack of her ass. Every time he heaved upward, it rubbed just the right way. Trenton was regaining his strength, and she could hear the increased tempo of his heart. Time for another taste. She slid back and placed her other hand around the thick shaft, pulling up once and back down over the purple, swollen head. He moaned, loud and feral, his legs quivering beneath her. He’s too damn close to coming again, she thought. Well, not before I ride you first! She straddled him. His rock-hard cock instantly filled her to the core, and her guttural moan of absolute pleasure resonated louder than Trenton's did. She managed two good thrusts before his back arched and he exploded inside. The twitching and pulsating of his rigid shaft sent her over the edge. In wave after wave of pleasure, she came, cock and pussy juice dripping from between her legs. She leaned back, placing her hands behind her, relishing in the after tingles, and waited for the part she loved the best—to feel his heart throbbing inside her. It was the only time she truly felt alive, like she actually had a heartbeat of her own.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

16

"You’re gonna kill me," he whispered through parched lips. "No, Mr. Savino, I do not kill innocents," she replied in stark seriousness. "I just like to play with my food." She gave him a devious grin. "Now, I’ll get you some orange juice and we’ll begin again, shall we?" He smirked back. "Only if you untie me." "That will depend on how good you are." Daniella disappeared from the room, her thoughts turning to the many delicious adventures they would share this night. Unfortunately, by morning, he wouldn’t remember a thing.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

17

Chapter Four: Missive Bloodshot eyes opened, and Aiden groaned in the muted darkness. “My hangover thanks your intuitiveness,” he whispered hoarsely, gazing at the closed blinds above the plain headboard of his bed. The gloom conveniently hid the array of dirty clothes strewn across the floor and the unmade bed he came home to every night. I should really hire a housekeeper, he thought for the hundredth time. A buxom, Swedish maid with long, blonde locks and an ass that needs a spanking every once in awhile. The thought stirred his groin, and his cock thickened beneath the sheet. “Gotta love hangover hard-on.” A rueful grin spread over his face, but he quickly sobered. And no place to put it. On that depressing note, he flung back the blankets and placed his bare feet on the floor, fighting the jouncing rhythm of African drums that pounded against his temples. When he smacked his lips, the lingering taste of sour scotch made him grimace. He waited a few moments before risking a vertical stance, stealing a glance at the digital alarm clock on the bedside table, the only piece of furniture in the room other than his king-sized bed. “Eight fifteen. Damn it. I’m as regular as six cups of bran, he mumbled. It didn’t matter how much he drank the night before, or how late he stayed out, he woke at the exact same time every day. Stumbling toward the bathroom with his dick straight out like a divining rod, he stopped in front of the toilet and willed himself to piss. After some inner coaxing, he released a long stream that felt like it went on forever. Giving his now flaccid member a few quick shakes, he pushed aside the shower curtain and turned on the water. As he waited for the temperature to get just right, Aiden stared at his reflection in the mirror above the chipped sink. How did those lines around my eyes get there? I’m only thirtyfour for Christ sake, he lamented. He kneaded the knots in his neck and sighed, feeling older than he should. I’ve seen too much death, that’s why. He reached for his toothbrush, and forced out a thick line of paste across the bristles. He popped the brush between his lips, hoping to rid himself of the shit the hangover camel had dumped in his mouth. When he finished with his teeth, he opened the medicine cabinet, extracted four painkillers and tossed them onto his tongue like popcorn. As he chewed the bitter chalk, he entered the shower, drawing the plastic curtain closed behind him. Aiden hummed a lively tune as he relished in the shooting jets of hot water against his skin. He shifted around so the water pulsated against the base of his spine and down the crease of his ass. As he lathered his head with shampoo, Daniella Rolfe’s exotic features suddenly filled his mind. For just a moment, the tantalizing heat of her almond-shaped, green eyes bored into him, as if she watched his every movement. Their intensity caused his dick to jump and harden once more. He moved his hands lower and worked the suds into his pubic hair. When his fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, images of this mysterious woman danced like a movie through his mind. With slow, gentle strokes, he moved his palm up and down, his breathing deepening with each practiced tug. He moaned aloud when his thumb passed fleetingly over his swollen head,

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

18

imagining Daniella’s tongue teasing the tip, making him drip. With his other hand, he cupped his balls. “Holy shit,” he murmured. “It’s never felt this good before.” The warm water cascaded over his throbbing nine inches, heightening his need and desire. More than a few women had walked away from him after seeing his full size, but the ones eager enough to give him a try, he never disappointed. The way Daniella filled the entirety of his mind, he knew she would love the challenge. His hand increased its pace as he fantasized what her naked body looked like. In his mind, she stood before him, her perfect breasts displaying rosy, little nipples, like plump raisins, waiting for his teeth to nibble upon them. Her nether region revealed a thin strip of cropped, ebony hair no wider than the width of his finger, her shaved lips, glistening wet … and waiting. He wasn’t willing the fantasy. The scenes just entered his mind with such clarity, he could only watch, entranced. He envisioned her moving a hand down between the pink bits of her pussy lips …. The force of his ejaculation slammed him back against the shower wall. With each violent jerk of his cock, he gasped aloud, Daniella’s image still at the forefront of his mind. Aiden watched as a demure smile lit upon her bow-shaped lips before she ebbed out of his mind, like a gentle breeze blowing through a whiff of smoke. “Holy, shit,” he mumbled. Every muscle in his body quivered. “Gotta love a day that starts out like this.” He rinsed the soap from his body, his humming reaching a louder, happier crescendo. After he dressed, he snagged a cold slice of pizza from the box on the dirty kitchen counter and headed out the door. He sniffed at the stiff piece of food and shrugged indifferently before wolfing it down. The morning sky loomed gloomy and ominous, threatening more rain. Aiden drew up the collar on his trench coat and began to walk, taking care to sidestep the many puddles that dotted the sidewalk. When he reached Nickolette’s Tavern, the bar stood closed and dark. A quaint sign in the window displayed a cartoon leprechaun holding a clock pointing to noon. I’ll stop in later and tell Denny thanks for last night, he thought, jumping into a tan, nondescript police car. As he drove downtown, Daniella crept into his mind, but he pushed her back, thinking, No use walking around with a stiffy all day. He got to the office and knew something was up. A sense of agitated excitement hung in the atmosphere and far too many heads turned his way when he entered. He no sooner got to his desk when Barlow hollered out from his office door. “Blackmore! In my office … now!” Grimacing, Aiden threw his overcoat across his chair and stopped long enough to pour himself a cup of gutter-mud, or as the other detectives called it, coffee. He entered the captain’s office and closed the door behind him, this time, much nicer than he had the day before. “I want you to go down to the harbor, the corner of Prenderville and Dawson … the warehouse district.” He sipped the thick molasses, watching the captain’s perplexed, wary face. “It’s a bit early in the morning to be stressed out, don’t you think, Captain?” he murmured. Barlow turned with an odd, sidelong glance before plopping himself down into his chair. “I’ll be asking you that when you get back,” he snapped. Something in the other man’s expression halted him. “What’s up?” He placed his mug down on the corner of the desk. “We’ve had another murder.” Barlow’s face turned emotionless.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

19

“You took me off the case, remember?” He had trouble keeping the sneer off his face. “I know what I told you,” the captain barked at him, “but this … this is something I want you to see firsthand. Call me when you get to the crime scene.” With eyebrows raised, he grabbed his coffee and left Barlow’s office, confused, but also intrigued. What the hell? he thought, reaching for his coat. As he drove south toward the warehouse district, he pulled out his cell phone and pressed speed dial four, Patti Dixon’s number, Kirkland’s Chief Coroner. “She’ll know what the hell’s up,” he grumbled, balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder. He reached under his seat, pulled out the cruiser light, and placed it on his dash just as Patti’s nasally voice-mail kicked in. He folded the phone without leaving a message, his sixth sense telling him to hurry. The crime scene teemed with several police cruisers, all lights flashing. Yellow police tape cornered off half a block of Werner’s Warehouse, a major supplier of oils and lubricants. He maneuvered his midsize car cautiously through the curious onlookers gathered around the street and docks. A fine, light mist blew in off the water, creating an almost surreal scene. He flashed his badge at the street cop blocking his way and, with a flick of the wrist, the uniformed officer motioned him forward. Aiden parked and followed a steady stream of officers coming and going through a side entrance. Gloomy shadows swathed row after row of neatly stacked shipping containers. He walked forward, following the hum of voices in the distance. When he saw a couple of officers exiting one of the aisles, he hastened his steps. The murkiness vanished when he spotted the illumination of several freestanding police lamps down one of the wide aisles. He approached, a smile curving his lips when he saw the familiar flash of orange-red hair. Dixie! With determined strides, he moved in her direction. The coroner huffed and puffed her large but short frame over the victim’s body, chalking an outline. When he stopped before her, she rose to her feet, her usual gray-eyed, inquisitive stare drilling through him. “Fancy meeting you here, Detective Blackmore,” she said, pursing her lips into a white line. “Ya gotta see this.” Aiden knelt down beside what looked to be a young, Hispanic man, perhaps in his late twenties, early thirties. Dark brown eyes stared sightlessly upward. Patti placed her pen against the corpse’s temple and turned the head toward him. Gorged chunks of flesh hung from the victim’s neck. He couldn’t tell what made such a wound. The throat looked like a mass of tattered, ripped flesh. A hook? he thought, his eyes straying to a small puddle of blood shimmering in the harsh lamplight. He wasn’t surprised, for this wasn’t the first time he’d seen such a wound. "Any identification?" "Nope. He's just like the others." Patti lifted the sleeve of the victim’s silk shirt. Aiden noticed the serial killer’s familiar mark, two deep trademark slices across both wrists. He swore under his breath, running a hand through his damp hair. “Rigor mortis hasn’t set in yet,” Patti explained in her usual curt and professional manner. Pushing her glasses back up her nose, she rolled the body over, staring over the lenses of her glasses. “Have the officers outside make a sweep of the area,” he ordered, his own eyes scanning the area.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

20

“It's being done now, but that’s not the reason why I called Barlow to get you down here. I want you to see this for yourself.” She proceeded to unbutton the victim’s shirt and pushed aside the silk material. He could only stare, speechless. Carved in rudimentary printing into the washboard stomach was the name, “Aiden Blackmore”. “Mind telling me why your name’s there?” she asked, narrowing her eyes. “Jesus, help me,” he whispered, feeling the blood drain from his face. “Clear the area,” Patti shouted, rising to her feet. “Now!” Startled police officers began shuffling out and soon, there was only the two of them left. “What the hell is going on, Aiden? This follows the same MO as the others. They all bear the same two incisions over both their wrists, they’re young and their throats are ripped open. Just so you know, there are no initials on his back like the others. This time, he preferred writing on the front of the envelope.” She sneered. “By the way, the victim's prints are on route to forensics now. Let’s hope we get a hit.” He swallowed past the dryness in his throat, staring down at his name etched into the poor man’s flesh. “A copycat?” he managed to croak out, still reeling from the shock. His gaze lingered on the victim’s soft, brown curls, now stiff with dried blood. “I’ll bet you a trip to Florida that we find this guy a few pints short. Look at the blood by the throat.” Patti pointed the end of her pen at the cement floor. “His body should be soaked in it, judging by the size of the tear to his jugular, yet the pooling is small, the edges just beginning to dry. Nor is there any postmortem staining,” she added, removing her glasses to pinch the bridge of her nose. “If this is a copycat, how the fuck does he know about the wrist and neck wounds? No one has released that to the public. Aiden? Aiden, are you listening to me?" His stare remained riveted on the young man’s stomach, at the sprawling name staring accusingly back at him. “You gonna ignore me?” The coroner’s sarcastic drawl cut through his angst and he rose to his feet. “What do you want me say, Dixie?” he snapped back, using his favorite nickname for her. I knew this day started out too good. “You got a time of death?” “An hour—at the most.” “Who called it in?” He stared toward the paths leading to both exits, one where he entered and the other, the main entrance of the warehouse where the officers left moments ago. “An anonymous caller. You and Barlow listen to the tape. Maybe the voice will spark something. In this neighborhood, who can tell,” she murmured. “Anything you wanna add?” He turned back to her, wishing he’d grabbed a few extra painkillers … hell, a whole handful. His head swam with these new implications and for the life of him, he couldn't understand how he’d become personally involved. His cell phone vibrated against his hip. He snapped it off his belt and cringed at the neon number before placing it to his ear. “Talk to me, Blackmore.” Captain Barlow’s voice resonated with stress. “Why didn’t you tell me this in your office?” Aiden’s anger and frustration flared to new levels. “And that would have made a difference? What’s going on?” This time, the captain’s tone held an edge of impatience and, surprisingly, concern. ”I’m about as stunned as you.” “Do you know him?”

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

21

“Never saw the victim before. His fingerprints are heading downtown now. We’ll just have to wait and see if we get a hit," he replied, watching the coroner’s head bobbing in concurrence. “Does the writing look familiar?” Aiden knew what he was hinting at. “We can’t tell at this point if the printing is the same as the initials carved on the previous victims' backs. We’ll need Remy’s expertise in the calligraphy department to analyze it." He sucked in a quivering breath. “Blackmore?” “Yeah, Captain?“ A long pause followed before he spoke. “What’s your gut telling ya?” Aiden stepped away from the body, kneading the iron muscles in his neck. “Like I’m in big time shit.”

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

22

Chapter Five: Kismet It was an hour before dawn when Daniella walked Trenton to the elevator and saw him off at the front door. She gave an acknowledging nod to the waiting chauffeur, watching for just a moment longer as the two men walked toward the silver limousine, talking quietly amongst themselves. Reentering the elevator, she returned to her suite, hoping to sleep for a few hours before another hectic day began. As she lay on her bed, she closed her eyes and sent forth an amnesia spell, ensnaring Trenton's vulnerable mind within it. She held his scent close to her, memorizing it for future use. She would find him again for another night of satisfying sex, and feeding. His blood tasted exceptionally sweet and his unique flavor still lingered at the back of her throat like a creamy, rich dessert. She fell into a deep slumber, a mollified smile turning up the corners of her lips. **** Aiden stood outside beneath the overhang of the front entrance of Werner’s Warehouse, oblivious to the several police cruisers leaving, or the mist that had now turned to a steady stream of frigid rain. His hand clenched the instant Polaroid of the victim. Before Patti had taken the picture, she’d angled the man's head so that the wound on his neck wouldn't show. Keeping with protocol, the coroner took several photographs, giving one to him to make the appropriate inquiries while he conducted the investigation. Patti didn’t know Barlow had taken him off the case and he wasn’t about to tell her either. He felt quite confident he was back on it anyway. His listless stare surveyed the street and the slow, dispersing crowd of people that had thinned to a small group of curious stragglers. He took another look at the photograph, memorizing every minute detail. Come hell or high water, he would never forget this victim. Get your shit together, he thought, shaking his head and pulling up the collar on his overcoat to ward against the chill wind blowing in off the harbor water. Just find this fucking psycho, and put him behind bars! Glancing up and down the street now slick with water, he realized he was only a couple of blocks away from the penthouse where he’d spent most of yesterday afternoon. "What a coincidence," he murmured, stuffing the victim’s picture into the pocket of his coat. Another vision of Daniella flashed through his head, but it vanished when movement in his peripheral vision caused him to shift toward the parking lot of the warehouse. He watched Patti, or Dixie as he liked to call her, climbing into the city-issue coroner van. She paused, offering a slight nod before entering and driving away with the victim’s mangled body. "Detective Blackmore?" "Yeah?" He turned to face a young, rookie cop. "Ms. Dixon asked that we show the victim’s picture around. Is there any place you’d like us to start?" "Stop the crowd from leaving. Pass the photograph around to those out there," he said, pointing in the direction of the thinning crowd. "He wasn’t killed that long ago and the perp might still be in the area.” "Yes, Sir," the officer replied, turning on his heel and leaving Aiden alone with his troubles.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

23

The mysterious Ms Rolfe filled his mind again. Well, it couldn’t hurt, he thought. With brusque steps, he returned to his car, gunned the engine, and headed in the direction of the penthouse. **** Daniella opened her eyes a few hours later, the image of Detective Blackmore still vividly running through her mind. She stretched beneath the down-filled comforter, feeling content and fed, both nutritionally and sexually. The dream, however, was somewhat puzzling. It felt so real. Like a Peeping Tom, she had watched the handsome detective standing in the shower as he pleasured himself, his large, soap-lathered hands running over the hardness of his body. She gasped, remembering the size of his unbelievable dick. When he had exploded, so did she, and the slickness between her legs was clear evidence of just how powerful the images were. "If I were a cat, I would be purring right now." Flinging back the covers, she strolled with a light step toward the bathroom, stopping long enough to grab the remote sitting on an ostentatious dresser. The mechanical hum of the metal blinds rising off her windows filled the quiet of her suite. She made her way into a black and white marble bathroom, and paused before the silver gilded mirror to glance at her reflection. The bluish hue to her lips was gone and her skin, although still pale, now held a slight rosy glow. Running a hand through her raven hair, she shifted around and slid open the glass doors to her five-jet shower, turning the chrome faucets on. Her delicate nose crinkled. The smell of sex, both sour and sweet filled her senses. "We’ll get rid of that stench soon enough," she said as she stepped inside and closed the doors behind her. By the time she dressed, a piercing trill from one of her many phones resonated from the living room. As she slipped an earring into her ear, she picked up the receiver. "Yes?" "Ms. Rolfe, there’s a Detective Blackmore downstairs to see you. He wishes a moment to speak with you." If her heart beat like a regular human’s, it would have been pounding. Taking a deep breath, a rueful smile creased her face and butterflies swarmed in the pit of her stomach. "Please send him up," she said, and hung up the receiver. She moved toward the elevator doors and turned the key to the left. With inhuman speed, she returned to the leather couch and waited. Seconds later, the doors slid open. Detective Blackmore appeared a little sodden as he stepped into the foyer of the living room. Daniella stood, walking toward him with a slender hand extended. "Detective. So nice to see you again," she said with a demure tilt of her head. He looks as pale as I do before feeding. Anticipation turned to curious dread. She sensed the rising hum of his heart flooding in her ears. "Ms. Rolfe," he answered, grasping her hand in his large grip before quickly releasing it. She noted the exhausted lines around his eyes and, judging by the flush that crept up his beautiful, thick neck and into his face, he seemed a little embarrassed. Her thin brows rose in confusion. "Do you have any news about my … I mean, our break in?" "Um, no, unfortunately, we don't. I’m here on another matter, however." He appeared ill at ease. She motioned with her arm toward the couch. "Please, have a seat," she offered with a polite tilt of her head. As he moved into the living room, she sensed a plethora of emotions emanating from him—anxiety, professionalism, and the strongest of all, curiosity, so similar to what she felt. "May I get you something to drink? Perhaps …."

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

24

"No, thank you." He removed his overcoat and sat down on the couch, crossing one long leg over the other. Daniella sat a relatively safe distance away beside him, inhaling his musky, sweet scent. She recognized the unique cologne he wore. A man on a civil servant’s salary, wearing such an expensive scent. He has taste. "I’m sorry about the disarray of my apartment," she began, but Aiden only smiled and she almost lost herself in the green depths of his eyes. "It’s me, or rather our forensics team that should apologize. They always leave such a mess, but it’s necessary." "I understand," she said, nodding. "So, what can I do for you, Detective Blackmore?" "Just Aiden." "Pardon me?" "Please, call me Aiden." Daniella’s smile widened. "I’m here …. " He paused, as if searching for the right words. "I’m here as a stab in the dark actually. There’s been an incident just a few blocks away and I was wondering, well, I thought I would ask you a couple of questions, if I may?" He acts as nervous as I feel, she thought, mildly amused. Her dark beauty, she knew affected men in different ways, but Aiden’s boyish innocence proved by far the most alluring she’d ever experienced. His naked body, wet from the shower, flashed through her mind and she firmly pushed the image away. "Anything I can do to help, just ask. What kind of incident are we talking about?" She found her reluctance to go gallivanting through his mind more than just puzzling, for it was completely unlike her. It just felt so … wrong somehow. Aiden’s eyes narrowed, and his manner turned to laconic professionalism. His hand slipped inside the pocket of his overcoat and he pulled out a picture, handing it to her. "Does he look familiar? What I mean to say is have you seen him around the area of late?" She continued to stare into his eyes as she took the photograph from his outstretched hand. She looked down and without raising her head, she found herself murmuring through clenched teeth. "He’s been murdered." It was not a question, but rather a statement. Someone had had the audacity to slay one of her pets. Trenton’s dull, dead eyes stared back at her. Somehow, she managed to force back the canines that threatened to lengthen in her fury. She held a certain affection for Trenton. He had turned out to be fabulous in bed and someone she had wanted to see again. "Do you know him?" She heard the eager anticipation laced within his words. "Yes," she said, rising to her feet and strolling to the picturesque windows in order to conceal her rage. "We were together last night, here. He left shortly before dawn. My chauffeur took him … home. Obviously, he didn’t make it." She scoured the street below, as if hoping to see the culprit there. "Your chauffeur’s name?" he asked, pulling out a hand-sized notepad and pen from the pocket of his tweed blazer. "I’m sorry. What did you say?" Her mind attempted to work through the questions racing in her mind. "I need the name of your chauffeur." "He works for a reputable company I use quite regularly. His name is Sebastian LaMarre."

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

25

"The company?" "Freemont Elite Services. They cater to the … the elite of Kirkland." She turned and faced him. "I’ve known Sebastian for almost a year now. He’s my regular driver and quite competent," she added. "Is there anything peculiar you remember about him last night, I mean this morning?" "That’s all I know about him, unfortunately." She sensed the detective’s discomfiture, but she tossed the feeling aside. "Just before I returned to my suite, I saw them talking together. Trenton ….” "Trenton?" Aiden’s brows folded as he continued to write in the small, black notebook. With slow, graceful steps, she returned to the couch, handing the picture back to the detective. "Trenton Savino. We met last night at La’Oggie’s." His face showed no emotion as he wrote down the victim’s name. "At least we have something to go on now. We found no wallet or any identification on him." "When we met at the nightclub, he was upstairs in the one of the private entertainment rooms. There were two bodyguards. He’s someone of money," she added with a flippant toss of her head. With her anger quelled, the multitude of questions running through her mind did not lessen. She stared hard at the detective, sensing there was something more he wanted to say. At this point, she didn’t care what she used to get the information. "Tell me, Detective, I mean, Aiden," she promptly corrected herself. "How did Trenton die?" "Someone ripped his throat open." A look of astonishment flashed over his face as he snapped his mouth shut. "Tell me more, Aiden,” she purred out, using a sliver of her dark gifts. "His throat was ripped open, both wrists sliced and …." She realized his mind was strong, and she sensed staunch resistance in answering her questions. "And what?" she urged. "Someone carved my name into his stomach." Daniella staggered back, more stunned than Aiden. She knew he'd just shared details that only the police knew thus far. "Your, your name?" she stammered out. He stood to his feet, looking shocked and uncomfortable. "I shouldn’t have told you that," he mumbled, hastily stuffing the notebook back into his pocket. He looked mortified that he’d confided such personal information to her. "I’ll not bother you anymore, Ms. Rolfe. Please, keep that information to yourself. No … no one knows about it but the police department." His harried expression tugged at her. She should not have done what she did, but she had to find out how Trenton died. The truth of the situation sent her reeling, however. Why his name? She felt as perplexed and troubled as the detective appeared. "Rest assured, Detective, I will tell no one. I can only hope you find this homicidal maniac, and soon, before there are others." Something crossed over Aiden’s face, and she faltered. "There’s been more of these murders?" The blood that once felt so warm inside her turned to ice. He hung his head and nodded. "This is the fourth one." "Who were the others?" she demanded, hating the shrillness contained in her voice. Looking up, he tilted his head thoughtfully. Taking the notebook out again, he began to recite the names she knew he’d memorized—Chase Williams, Sam Zeller, Randolph Vandermann and …." He hesitated before finishing, "Trenton Savino."

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

26

Her knees gave out and she plopped down on the couch, feeling whatever color she managed to feed into her system drain away. "Ms. Rolfe! Ms. Rolfe, are you all right?" "No, Detective Blackmore. I'm not all right." The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth as she gnashed her teeth against her tongue. His soothing touch upon her shoulder brought her back to the present. It seemed to draw down her wrath and want of revenge. She turned to face him, holding his confused gaze within her own. "Ms. Rolfe, if there’s more you can tell me, please do so. It'll only help with our investigation." Without batting an eyelash, she answered. "Those men you just listed—all of them used to be my lovers."

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

27

Chapter Six: Consignment “This is insane!” Aiden snarled, pacing the narrow length of Barlow’s office. “Damn it, sit down will ya? You’re giving me a headache.” He halted in his tracks, stunned. “I’m giving you a headache? For Christ sake, Captain, if I had any more pain in my head right now, I'd explode.” Barlow reached into the drawer under his desk and pulled out a large bottle of painkillers, tossing it to the younger detective. “Help yourself. Just make sure you leave me some.” As Aiden caught it, the captain took off his glasses. He pinched the bridge of his nose before back in his chair. With weary movements, he ran a hand over his bald spot and proceeded to bend his neck side to side, slow and carefully, emitting a loud sigh at the crack that followed. “Just sit down and we’ll talk this out, all right?” Aiden leaned against the wall beside the small picture window, staring out into the squad room. Detectives moved about their business, some shooting fleeting glances his way before going back to what they were doing. Daniella’s long, shapely legs stuck out by the corner of his desk. With a rueful crease of his lips, he realized that every male detective in the department glanced in her direction more than once. Some even stopped to speak to her. A small bubble of jealousy burst in him and at that precise moment, she leaned forward, poking her head around the corner to stare directly into his eyes. He stepped back, startled by the pins and needles that ran along his skin. The pounding of his heart sounded much too loud and he swore the captain could hear it too. She gave him a slight nod and moved back out of sight. Plopping himself down in the chair closest to the door, he heaved an exasperated sigh. I must be nuts, he thought for the hundredth time. “Now the three, wait, four victims were lovers of Ms Rolfe?” Barlow began. “The forensic records are in front of you.” He pointed to a crisp, manila folder. “Let’s go over the time of their deaths and see what we can come up with. Picking up a gold pen, he waited. The younger detective grabbed the folder and placed it on his lap. He reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out his notebook, flipping open to the last couple of pages of his notes. When Daniella had told him the startling news about all the victims, he had continued asking questions, diligently making notes before thinking it best to bring her down to police headquarters. What he’d found out blew him away and was the main reason why he'd brought her in to be interviewed by Barlow. The captain had questioned her for several minutes on his own, most likely asking the same questions he’d inquired of her. Now came the comparison of notes. “Sure,” he murmured. Popping the bottle of painkillers open, Aiden threw four round pills into his mouth, chewing as he settled himself more comfortably in the chair. “Damn, I wish you’d stop doing that. ”Doing what?” he asked, raising his head as he chewed. “Never mind,” Barlow mumbled. As he scanned the notes scattered in front of him, he loosened his maroon tie before starting. “Okay, let’s see here. The first one found is, Chase Williams. Time of death?” “Forensics states between four and six a.m.”

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

28

“Date?” “May 23rd.” Barlow wrote something down on a clean sheet of paper. “Next victim?” “Sam Zeller. We found his body at around ten in the morning, but Dixie had a bitch of a time pinpointing an approximate time of death. Zeller had maybe two or three pints of blood left in his system. Because of the lack of blood and the rigor mortis, she could only guesstimate a time.” Aiden paused, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “She states here sometime between midnight and six a.m., which doesn’t leave a lot for us to go on." “Date?” “He died June 21st.” He looked up from his notebook and tilted his head around, watching a smidgen of Daniella’s crossed leg swinging back and forth. He turned away and flipped open another page, concentrating more readily on the matters at hand. “The third victim was Randolph Vandermann. Time of death is between three and five a.m. Again, Dixie found him several pints short of a full load. Date of death, July 23rd. Now we have Trenton Savino. Dixie’s best guess for now is that he died sometime between three and five a.m. today, August 22nd.” Barlow reached up beside him, removing a plain calendar pinned to the wall beside his desk and pitched it toward him. “Count the days.” He dropped his pen and laced his fingers together before placing his hands behind his neck, waiting. Aiden grabbed the calendar, and without looking at it, he placed it on his lap under the manila folder. “I’ve already done the calculations. They’re thirty days apart, give or take a three-day difference." The captain’s expression hardened. “You’re sure of this? You’ve figured out the bastard’s timetable?” “Well, sort of,” he said, looking up. “But it gets weirder.” He felt the urge to look at Daniella once more but, thinking better of it, he focused on the man before him. As Barlow waited, Aiden could tell by the way the other man picked up his glasses and began bending the arms back and forth that his impatience was at an all time high. “Well, out with it, for Christ’s sake,” he snapped, clearly irritable. “When I interviewed Ms. Rolfe, she, it turns out, had, um, dates the same night each of these guys were murdered.” Barlow stood to his feet, the shrill squeak of his chair resonated like nails on a blackboard. He shivered. “You don’t say,” murmured the captain, taking his usual stance beside the window that overlooked the street below. He knew Daniella had already confided this important piece of info to him. The captain rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, and Aiden sensed him running these facts succinctly through his mind. Well, they didn’t make him captain for nothing, he thought. When he spun around, he saw that Barlow looked pensive, the corners of his gray eyes pinched with apprehension. “So, what about this Rolfe woman?” Raising his head just a tad, the captain glanced out the small window of his office into the squad room. Aiden followed suit. Daniella sat like before and again, she leaned forward, a hopeful glint lighting in her ice green eyes. Flushing warmth spread across his face and he whipped his head around, fidgeting with the file on his lap.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

29

“Besides being exceptionally beautiful, what does your gut tell ya?” Returning to his chair, Barlow placed his elbows on the desk, watchful and quiet. “Remember the initials carved on each of the victims' backs, except Savino’s?” “Yeah.” The captain’s eyes narrowed. “Although difficult to decipher at first, Dixie and Remy concentrated their attentions there and the initials turned out to be … D R..” He faltered for bit. “I believe they stand for Daniella Rolfe.” The older detective growled under his breath, slamming his hand down on the desk, scattering his notes. “What son-of-a-bitch does that? In all my years on the force, I’ve never seen a case like this.” “These murders … this serial killer is slaying in her name,” he quietly added. “Is it the same guy?” Barlow’s eyes blazed with unbridled rage. “Dixie’s working with Remy now to ensure Savino isn’t a copycat. All the markings are there except ….” “Except your full name lies sprawled on this guy’s gut. Shit! Wait until the press gets a hold of this. First the assault….” He shook his head and fell silent. Aiden placed the file onto Barlow’s desk and stood to his feet, the calendar falling to the floor, but he ignored it. Placing the notebook back inside pocket of his blazer, he paced toward the captain’s favorite spot by the window. With his hands deep in the pockets of his cargo pants, he watched the traffic with absent interest. “Put me on suspension, Captain,” he finally said. The squeaking of Barlow’s shifting chair screeched out even more annoying than before. “Just why the hell would I do that?” he snapped peevishly. “I’m involved in all of this. I don’t know how or why, but Ms. Rolfe …. I think if I stay close to her maybe, just maybe, someone will make a mistake and come after her, or me. In thirty days or so, we should know more. Unless he kills someone else, then we’re up shit’s creek without paddles.” "Well, that seems to be the million dollar question here. Someone knew you were investigating her break-in, but …. You're not close to her, are you?" The unspoken question caused another flush of crimson to stain Aiden’s face. With difficulty, he pushed the events of his morning’s shower far away from his mind. “If you’re asking me if I’ve fucked her, the answer is no. I’d never met her until yesterday.” “Then what’s your take on this woman? Besides the fucking obvious. Man, that is one fine looking woman, and we’ve got some nutcase killing in her name, and now yours." He thought long and hard before answering. “I think she’s as shocked about this as we are.” He didn’t mention the one thing that confused the hell out of him, though. Daniella had appeared intrigued, even vengeful about these murders, but not once had she shown an iota of fear, and that scared the bejesus out of him. Barlow craned his neck upward and nodded. “Consider yourself on a leave of absence. If I issue a suspension, that assault case of yours will look even worse.” It was easy to see the concern on the other man’s face. “Thanks, Captain. I’ll keep you updated.” He moved toward the door and opened it, but before he could walk through it, Barlow’s voice halted his retreating steps. “You better keep me informed!” he ordered. “I want reports three times a day—morning, noon, and night. Understand? And if I don’t hear from you, consider yourself off the case, and I’ll have you knocked down to directing traffic. Got it?” The captain slumped into the back of

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

30

his chair, holding his head between his hands. Taking a hold of the painkillers, he extracted two and popped them into mouth, chasing them down with a gulp of water. “I must be insane to agree to this, you know,” he muttered. “You’re way too close to this case, but you’re the best I’ve got. Just catch the bastard, Aiden.” “Yes, Captain.” He turned and left. **** Barlow watched the couple leave the squad room, shaking his head in reproach as every male head turned to watch her leave. Just before the doorway leading downstairs, Daniella Rolfe stopped and gracefully shifted around, staring directly into his eyes. He swore he saw a flash of something flare within those icy green pools of hers, something dark and dangerous, and then she was gone. Shaking his head, he popped two more painkillers into his mouth and shot them back with a large swig of water. Groaning aloud, he stared at the stack of paperwork that never ceased to stop littering his desk. With a resigned sigh, he sat, sorting through the mess. **** The subdued car ride back to Daniella’s penthouse felt awkward. When she finally broke the silence, Aiden jumped in surprise. “So, you are to watch over me?” “Yes.” “Like a bodyguard?” “Something like that, yeah.” He offered her a small smile, but failed to notice the sheepish grin curling the corners of her lips. Stealing a sidelong glance, he realized she appeared preoccupied as she stared out the passenger side window, silent once more. “My schedule is rather hectic. You will be kept busy,” she said at last. “What exactly do you do, Ms. Rolfe?” he asked, feeling thankful the silence no longer existed. “Daniella. Please call me, Daniella. I’m an investor of sorts.” “Of sorts?” “Yes. I deal in rare, antique furniture. People buy such things as investments these days. I, in turn, find and purchase specific pieces of furniture for prospective buyers. I have it appraised, and insured before placing a market value on it.” He could feel the heat of her stare as she studied him. “And how long have you been a police officer, Aiden?” Whenever she spoke his name, goosebumps raced across his skin. He coughed into his hand before answering. “Just over ten years. I followed in my father’s footsteps. Whenever the neighborhood kids got together to play cops and robbers, I always ended up the cop.” Taking his eyes off the slick road for a second, he posed another question to her. This feels like stupid a game! “And did you always want to be an investor?” he asked. She smiled, a rather sad smile he thought. “It proved … beneficial for me, yes.” Focusing his attention back on the road, he pulled the car to a stop at a red light. “Can I ask you a question?” With a discreet tilt of her head, she murmured, “You seem to be doing pretty good thus far.” He grinned at her attempt at humor. “Your accent—I’ve never heard it before. Where are you from?”

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

31

“You most certainly are a cop, Aiden.” She chuckled under breath. He caught musical cadences hidden in her laugh, like the sound of muted Christmas bells. “Just curious,” he mumbled, feeling another flush of color burn across his face. Can you be any more of a tool? he berated himself. Thankfully, the beginning of night and the dark, overcast skies created a gloomy dimness within the car’s interior that he hoped hid his embarrassment. “I’m Parisian,” she said, turning her attention back to the window. "French?" He cringed at his inability to keep the surprise from his voice. “Originally, Scottish.” “Scottish? Now that’s a strange mix.” The light turned green and he gunned the engine. “I came over from Scotland as … as a child. My family, they came from an area called Avon Konlagh, though it’s gone now.” The pursing of her lips and the frown lines marring her pale forehead confused him. Am I being too personal? he worried. Trying to make light of the situation, he chortled. “What a coincidence. My father’s third, or it could be fourth generation Irish. My great-great-great grandfather came over on the boat first to England, and then to America.” Snapping his mouth shut, he couldn’t believe how lame that sounded. “Yes, the boat.” In the reflection of the windshield, he saw a sudden look of distaste wash over her face. Just shut your mouth now, you idiot. He almost emitted a sigh of relief when her building came into view. Once upon a time, it used to be an old, abandoned warehouse before the City of Kirkland began rejuvenating the extensive and highly valuable harbor properties. Daniella gave him concise instructions where to park the car and, once stopped, she exited without waiting. When he caught up to her, his eyes scanned the area for anyone looking suspicious or out of place. The street appeared deserted, and it looked like more rain threatened to fall again. They strolled toward the spotless glass door entrance, and she hesitated, her hand resting on the long, brass handle. “I believe we should discuss sleeping arrangements, don’t you think?” When she said this, Aiden could see a sly grin creasing over her lips in the reflection of the glass. Without another word, she entered the building, leaving him feeling more than a little stunned.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

32

Chapter Seven: Atonement Daniella strolled into the darkened suite, lissome and unafraid. She sensed Aiden following close behind. In fact, she sensed many things emanating from the detective, most of which confused the hell out of her, but she didn’t want to think about it now. The car ride back had felt like the longest trip she’d ever endured, even compared to the horrid voyage over the North Sea from Scotland so many centuries ago. This human brought out alien emotions, sensations she’d never experienced before, and she feared revealing any part of herself to him. Aiden seemed to have the uncanny knack of laying bare her soul with just a mere look from those smoldering, green eyes, causing her to reveal things she’d never told anyone, not even to her long time attorney and only friend, Manvera Talbot. Having him so near to her left her feeling more than a little disconcerted. She moved to the bar to pour herself a drink. Although the alcohol wouldn’t quell her nerves as it did in humans, she wanted something to occupy her hands, and mind. “Are you going to turn on a light?" The strong timbre of his voice brought her back to the present. She looked up, startled, forgetting that his eyes did not see as well in the dark as hers did. This is what you get for agreeing to such an asinine plan, she thought. But I hadn’t agreed to it. It just happened, she argued. Nevertheless, you didn’t resist either. “Just a moment,” she murmured, shaking her head to dispel the thoughts and walked to a switch on the wall. Like magic, beams of light shone down from the track lighting across the stippled ceiling, and as if on cue, the fireplace burst into flames. Daniella saw the slight jump in his broad shoulders. “Neat trick," he mumbled. She followed Aiden’s engrossed stare toward the fireplace. “Gas. It’s far cleaner and easier to maintain.” Stepping behind the bar, she pulled up a bottle of Glenfiddich. “Wow!” he said, as he scrutinized the living room. It took her a moment to realize that his comment referred to how clean her suite now appeared. Aside from a few missing paintings, no black fingerprint dust blackened her priceless furniture. “What? You hire a crew to come in here? We were only gone a couple of hours.” She heard the awe-like chime in his tone and she smiled, pouring herself a tumbler full of the golden liquor. “We were gone all afternoon and, I do pay well. By the way, the maid's service more than likely left something to eat in the kitchen. They always do. I must warn you, however, that my tastes are—a little leaner than most. You’re welcome to help yourself to whatever they’ve prepared.” He just stood there, looking at her glass. Daniella felt her cheeks warm, a new sensation that he so easily brought out in her. She only felt this flush when she drank fresh blood. What is this strange power he holds over me? she mused. “How rude of me. Would you care for a glass?” she asked, holding up the green bottle. He eyed the expensive liquor with hunger. “I never pass up Glenfiddich,” he said, a boyish smirk spreading over his face. “A large glass, please. Fill it to the top.”

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

33

We have the same tastes. How interesting. Reaching beneath the acrylic bar, she pulled out another glass and, like her own, she filled it to the brim, holding it out for him to take. He approached, careful and wary. Taking the glass from her hand, he moved toward the metal blinds, which the maids ensured were down each evening when she arrived home. “Are these always closed?” he asked, taking a large gulp and grimacing as he swallowed. The urge to rifle through his thoughts became like an ache, but she could not bring herself to do it. Something told her it was wrong, even corrupt, and she always listened to her instincts. “I instruct the service to have them closed when I come home. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have several phone calls to make and some appointments that need rescheduling.” She wanted time alone, but as she moved toward the bedroom, his next words halted her. “I believe you mentioned something about sleeping arrangements?” A coy smile curled the corners of her lips as she turned toward him, watching as he took another large draught. “Yes, I believe I did.” It was then that she noticed his stance, the awkward way he shifted his glass from hand to hand. He’s nervous! she thought. Men who frequented her suite came here with one thing on their mind. This Aiden was turning into an anomaly that went against everything ‘normal’ in her life. She angled her head to study him for a moment more. A lock of reddish chestnut hair hung over his right eye, and the overcoat he hadn’t removed looked damp and crumpled. She could have so much fun with this human, but he carried a badge. He was a man of authority and someone she never involved herself with, no matter what the situation or how delicious they looked. With a slight nonchalant tilt of her chin, she indicated toward the hallway beside the fireplace. “There’s a guestroom beside the bathroom down that hallway. There will be towels and all the necessities I think you’ll need. Please, make yourself at home, Aiden. Oh, and the kitchen is through this door,” she said, pointing to her left. “If there’s something specific you might require, we can arrange to have it here tomorrow, if you like.” She snapped her mouth closed. Next, you’ll be asking him to move in with you, she chided. Looking a little shocked, and relieved, he murmured thanks, but he still didn't move. “Is there something else?” she asked, feeling confused by how uncomfortable he still looked. The detective ran a hand through his hair. “No. I … well, I just don’t know what to do with myself. I’ve never been a bodyguard before.” She placed her glass down on the small moon-shaped table standing at the entrance of the hallway that led to her bedroom, and spoke as if addressing a child. “There’s a television in your room, and music, should you wish to amuse yourself. I must ask that you not disturb me while I work. Because I spent the day with you and Captain Barlow, I have a lot of catching up to do. Is there something specific you’d like prepared for breakfast? A special treat you don’t normally get to have?” She didn’t want to rush him, but she had things that needed attending, and she’d put them off for far too long. He grinned and the warmth of his smile caused delightful tingles to engulf her. “Damn, cereal would be a treat for me, but since your asking, eggs benedict would be great.” Daniella felt a smile light upon her face. “Eggs benedict it is.” She picked up the phone beside her drink and placed the order with the maid service. When she hung up the receiver, she realized he still hadn’t moved. With a gracious dip of her head, she eyed him from beneath her lashes. “Then I bid you a good night, detective.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned and headed to her bedroom, leaving her drink untouched.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

34

When she closed the door behind her, Daniella leaned against the wood, fighting the roiling emotions battling inside her. “What is it about that man?” she murmured, tossing her high heels to the floor and unzipping the side of her skirt. “I have one more thing to do before I can concentrate on these killings, a little task that needs my personal touch.” She talked quietly and the timbre of her voice gave her further reassurance, and something to listen to other than the rampant questions running through her mind. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she unrolled each silk stocking, tossing them next to the shoes. The herringbone blazer she threw across an 18th century Louis XVI chair upholstered in deep wine velvet. The garter flew across the room as she made her way to the armoire, pulling out plain, black track pants and a matching hoodie. Reaching into her shoe closet, she extracted a pair of running shoes, and then pinned back her hair with a barrette. She opened the window to her bedroom, glancing back at the entrance of her room. Thinking better of it, she walked to the door and locked it. As she passed by the telephone, she stopped, wondering whether Aiden was smart enough to check. Yes, he would, she thought and removed the receiver from its cradle. Jumping onto the thin ledge of the window in one graceful movement, she balanced herself, feeling the spray of rain against her face. She sent forth her senses, ensuring an empty street greeted her. She caught the threesome’s vile scent swirling in the evening wind, and her canines lengthened to sharp points as the rush of the hunt raced through her like feral lust. Beware, you fools, she mused. You’ve had your reprieve, and now you shall suffer the consequences of stealing from a vampire of the First! Daniella jumped, soundlessly falling six floors below onto the wet pavement, becoming one with the shadows and the creatures of the night. **** He waited by the darkest corner of the street, several blocks down from ‘her’ domicile. He’d lingered and watched her so often his feet had worn a groove in the cement. His dark eyes narrowed as Daniella disappeared into the night to hunt, but this time for vengeance. A malicious smile shadowed his features. Yes, he thought, as memories of her past vindictive feedings exploded in his senses. His cock hardened. He'd never known a vampire like Daniella. She was such a formidable, dominating creature when she hunted. No other held such beauty, or terror. Slinking from his hiding place, he shrouded himself within a spell of shadow and followed, licking his lips in anticipation of seeing this magnificent creature strike down her prey. **** It proved easy for Daniella to follow their scent in the wind. Every piece of her furniture had permeated their vulgar stench. Bounding along the rooftops of the many abandoned warehouses, she leapt from one decrepit building to the next. When her internal radar sensed the beating of the three hearts she searched for, she dropped to the street below. An empty storehouse stood before her, its windows boarded and its foundation crumbling from the onslaught of time and neglect. The whispered patters of scurrying rats that infested the place mingled with the hush of voices only her ears could hear. A condemned notice fluttered in the breeze that hung off the front door by two rusted staples. As the subdued murmur of voices washed through her, Daniella’s eyes dilated and her teeth elongated with primal hunger. In one jump, she flew into the air and landed on the roof like a feline, crouching, waiting. Satisfied that her movements remained unnoticed, she moved toward a barred, metal door and pulled. The sounds of grinding metal resonated through the stillness of the night, and she paused, hearing the muted whispers fall silent downstairs. Tendrils of fear and confusion soon slithered in the air

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

35

around her. Her movements became a blur as she raced down the stairs and into the main level of the abandoned building. She found three men dressed in street gang colors, each lounging on various pieces of old, broken office furniture and scattered piss-stained mattresses. They jumped to their feet when they saw her enter. She strolled into the light, and coolly eyed them. Such a shame for men to die so young over stupidity they can control. Crime in this day and age never ceased to amaze her. A stout youth reached into the back of his droopy cargo pants, and drew out a semiautomatic pistol, pointing the weapon at her. A moment of uncertainty and fear filled his hazel eyes. She stared at the gun in disdain, saying nothing. The taller man, dressed in baggy jeans and a bright red leather jacket, grinned with spiteful intent as she took a step closer. “Seems to me we have a lost, little lady here, boys. Maybe we could show her the way home like good little scouts.” His leering stare ran up and down the length of her body. “Dog, I don’t like this,” murmured the man holding the gun. Well, at least one of them is intelligent, she mused. Feigning a smile, she walked closer. The meager light of several kerosene lanterns offered them an ample view of her trim but voluptuous body. She reached up, sliding the zipper of her hoodie down just a few inches, revealing the swell of her breasts. She rather enjoyed playing with her food. A third man, who lolled on a mattress a few feet away, rose to his feet in slow motion, heated hunger flashing through his red-rimmed eyes. Throwing down a chipped, blackened crack pipe, he moved closer to Dog. “Hey, we gonna have fun with this bitch or what, Dog?” he growled and a vicious grin revealed a row of black, decayed teeth. The man called Dog motioned with his finger for Daniella to approach closer. “Come on, little kitty. Let’s have a taste of that pussy of yours.” “D-d-dog,” stammered the gun wielding youth. “Let’s get the hell outta here. I don’t like this one bit.” “What? You scared of a girl, Yogi?” asked the man who hadn’t seen a dentist in years. “Shuddup, Vega! Something ain’t right here.” “Oh, I must concur with … Yogi, is it?” She smiled, and two long canines slipped out and over her bottom lip. Yogi lowered his arm and the gun, taking timid steps backward as he tried to move closer to the exit. Vega and Dog frowned, confused for a moment, but this did not deter them from their intent, just as she’d hoped. The one called Vega made the first mistake when he lunged for her. She moved so fast, she'd broken the youth’s neck before Dog could cry out. Her blood-red pupils held both men in abject fear. Yogi screamed, creating a dark stain on the litter-strewn floor as he pissed his pants. He lifted his arm and fired three consecutive shots, each bullet tearing through Daniella’s lithe body. The harmless metal burned through her skin, emitting tendrils of ash and gray smoke at their entry and exit points. Before he could cock another round, she was at his side. With one bend, she snapped Yogi in half, breaking his back like he was nothing more than a pretzel.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

36

The sound of sobbing drew her anger, and attention, back to Dog. Like a tiny boy, he cried. “Please … take whatever you want … please don’t kill me. I got a kid and everything.” Tears streamed down his cheeks as he begged for his life. “You take whatever you want, but now you must pay the reaper’s price. Nothing in this life is free,” she said. Daniella sensed the evil coursing through all of them, but this one—this one she would feed upon. This Dog was a breed that needed removal from the human race. With her finger, she motioned to him to come closer, like a teasing lover. With no will of his own, he shuffled his feet forward, his cries turning in mewling whimpers. Pale and shivering, Dog proceeded to urinate like Yogi, a trail of piss following behind him. When he stood scant inches away from her, she bent his neck, slow and methodical, savoring the threads of fear and acceptance flowing from him. Without any of the careful, delicate feeding she used with her monthly cycle partners, she sank her teeth deep into the thick flesh, biting and gnawing like a starved, rabid animal. Blood spewed in all directions, soaking her hair and splattering over her face like the rain outside. Ignoring Dog’s futile movements and the delicious gurgling as he fought unsuccessfully for his life, she closed her eyes in ecstasy as the gushing fount of hot, fresh blood burst over her tongue and down her throat. She cherished the taste of something so foul and evil, and yet so sweet and pure. When she heard the sigh of death slip out from between his inert lips, she dropped him to the ground like the piece of garbage he was. Silence and the stench of released bowels and blood now added to the already putrid smelling storehouse. As she glared at the three dead bodies, she licked her lips, picking at the pieces of flesh stuck in between her teeth. With a sharp flick of her other wrist, all three men erupted into balls of blue-red flames, although the licking fire refused to ignite anything else around them, just the corpses, burning to nothing but smoldering piles of white-gray ash. Not even slivers of bones remained. Emitting a satisfied sigh, she turned and left the way she’d arrived. When Daniella reached the door leading to the roof, she sensed movement, subtle and almost undetectable. She stopped, turning her head to listen to the sounds of the night. Sensing nothing more but the scratching of rats’ claws and other rodents that infested the place, she moved out the doorway. Jumping to the adjacent rooftop, Daniella raced from shadow to shadow, nothing more than a passing fog to the human eye. **** You fool, he berated himself, pulling out a wad of tissue from his coat. As he’d watched Daniella feed, his excitement had mounted, and his orgasm proved much too violent and intense to maintain. So much so that she had nearly discovered his presence. He looked down from the rafters where he hid, forcing his still throbbing cock back into his pants and doing up the zipper. Tossing down the cum-soaked tissues, they erupted into tiny, hurling balls of flames that died before touching the ash-covered floor. He thought it an absolute shame that Daniella did not delight in the kills as much as he did. “She will. Oh, but one day she will,” he vowed under his breath before he, too, vanished into the night.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

37

Chapter Eight: Carnal When Daniella strolled to her bedroom, Aiden followed the seductive sway of her hips as they disappeared around the corner. At the sound of a closing door, he gulped down the rest of his scotch and placed the empty glass down onto the bar. His eyes narrowed when he saw her untouched drink. With a shrug of his shoulders, he picked it up and slugged half the contents back. The therapeutic burn of the alcohol felt good and some of the tension in his shoulders loosened. Trying his best to amuse himself, he drifted toward the blinds, wondering how they worked. He took another sip, feeling the soothing effects of the booze working through his system. Well, what the hell do I do now? he wondered, pacing the empty room. He sat on the couch, hanging his head and twirling the crystal glass in his hands. Why me? he asked himself for the hundredth time. No matter how he looked at the situation, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was stuck in a sticky web, and a hidden spider readied itself for the kill. He heard a subtle noise and turned toward Daniella’s room. When only silence followed, he rose to his feet, pausing to take another large swig. He looked at the entrance to the kitchen. Maybe I should eat something? Thinking better of it, he shook his head. On second thought, I’ll just stick to scotch. When he finished off the rest of Daniella’s drink, he left the glass on the coffee table and made his way down the hallway to find his room. He turned the corner and saw a partially opened door on the right. His foot stepped across the threshold and stark light magically illuminated the colossal bathroom. Aiden’s mouth dropped open. A half-moon shower stall large enough to hold ten people took up the left-hand wall. In front of him was a Jacuzzi that looked more like a mini swimming pool. A shrill whistle of awe slipped out from between his lips. “The bathroom’s three times bigger than my entire apartment, for shit’s sake.” Inching his way toward the tub, he soon realized that the facilities extended even further back. He spotted an array of large potted plants surrounding several pieces of elegant wicker furniture—a small oasis in a cold, sterile environment. Aiden, however, couldn’t have cared less. He searched for one thing. Where the hell is the toilet? Turning toward two stainless steel sinks, he flipped up the chrome handle and ran the water until steam rose. After washing up, he reached for a towel, and patted his face dry. He then noticed a black porcelain toilet neatly hidden in an alcove beside the bathroom counter. Unzipping his fly, he hummed with relief as he pissed out remnants of the scotch. He conducted a thorough search of the drawers beneath the ebony vanity and found a couple of unopened travel packages containing toothbrushes and paste. As he brushed his teeth, he studied his reflection, rubbing at the shadow of stubble covering his square jaw. “I need to shave,” he mumbled. He leaned over, and spit into the sink, thinking, What the hell for? He exited the bathroom and, as soon as he crossed over into the hallway, the lights behind him dimmed and went out. Rolling his eyes to the ceiling, he continued down the hall, halting at the only other door. He entered and found a light switch on the inside wall. Though not as large as the bathroom, the guestroom had a warm, cozy feel to it. A two-tiered platform bed, he thought,

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

38

eyeing the thick mattress and dark wood detail. At least it looks comfortable. He glanced around the room, taking in the thirty-two inch television that sat on an oriental dresser. Its dark cherry wood shimmered with inlaid mother-of-pearl and jade. He moved toward it and pulled open one of the top drawers. Inside, he found over a dozen pairs of men’s socks, all brand new. The drawer below it held an array of gaudy looking sweaters. Aiden pulled out another drawer and paused, his eyes rounding as he stared down at the packages of men’s underwear. “Well, that’s certainly handy,” he murmured, twisting up his lip. He didn’t know whether to be weirded out, or disgusted. Okay, she entertains—a lot, but it’s none of my business. Closing the dresser drawer, he moved his hand to the back of his neck, trying to knead out the kinks. “Well, Detective, her choice of entertainment has now become your business.” Pushing away a vision of Savino wearing a pair of those Jockeys, he stepped up onto the raised platform of the bed and sat down on the mattress, bouncing a few times to check the firmness. A set of closet doors caught his attention and he rose to pull them open. Inside he found several pairs of men’s jeans, an array of casual pants and blazers, and at least half a dozen crisp, linen shirts with matching ties, including several expensive business suits. They hung on two individual wardrobe poles on either side of the closet. “We’ll just have to call her Lady EverReady.” Protruding off the floor was a stocked shelf that held a neat pile of black drawstring PJ bottoms still adorned with expensive price tags. “What the fuck? How many men frequent this place?” he whispered, awestruck by the find. With effort, he forced away a surge of jealousy that suddenly flared inside him. He reached down and grabbed a pair, ripping the tag off with his teeth. Once changed, he climbed into bed, his thoughts worming through the various details of the case. His hand idly scratched the hair on his chest as he replayed every grisly detail of the murders inside his head. In Kirkland, the majority of homicides were related to either gang violence, domestic disputes or drunken, drug-induced circumstances. “It could be a satanic cult,” he said aloud, but his churning guts said no. He retrieved his notes from his crumpled overcoat, and he reread each scrap of paper, hoping something new would jump out at him. He ripped pages out of his notebook and placed them in concurrent rows to reflect each victim. They had a period of thirty to thirty-three days between murders. Daniella had spent the night with each of them before the killer attacked, and all the male victims sustained similar wounds. No matter how many angles he came at the case, he couldn’t get his mind around it, nor could he figure out why his name was important to the murderer. He wasn't any closer to solving the case than he had been two months ago. Leaning his head back on the pillows, he stared at Savino’s photograph clenched in his hand. Once I interview the chauffeur, maybe something will make sense, he hoped. The soothing sound of rain pattering against the window and the distant rumble of thunder numbed Aiden's troubled mind. Combined with the alcohol in his system, his body relaxed, his eyelids heavy. "I’ll just rest for moment," he mumbled. He fell asleep with all his notes scattered across the bed like an extra blanket. **** Daniella propelled herself upward and, like a practiced tightrope walker, she landed on the inside ledge of her windowsill. Cocking her head to the side, she listened, hearing only dripping water from her sodden hair and clothes. Jumping soundlessly to the floor, she slid the window closed and moved toward the bedroom door. Aiden’s haunting scent filled her head,

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

39

like freshly baked cookies wafting in the air. Her lips twisted upward as the humming vibrations of his slow, but steady heartbeat washed over her. He’s asleep. She peeled off her wet clothes, and grabbed a towel from her private bathroom to dry herself off, relishing in a sense of accomplishment by ridding the world of those three unsavories. They were nothing more than a fleeting memory. After wringing out her hair, she donned a silk nightshirt, and slipped beneath the sheets, the rhythm of Aiden’s steady breathing lulling her down into peaceful, vampiric slumber. Just before the darkness closed around her, she realized something that almost brought her back to the surface of reality. She rather enjoyed having the detective’s presence close by. **** Aiden stared down at the feet sticking out from the bottom of the black PJ bottoms. Wriggling the toes, he realized they were his own. Okay, this is just dream. You’re just dreaming. Looking up, the dim room appeared devoid of furniture except …. He stumbled back a step at the sight that greeted him. There stood Daniella with her back to him, tied naked and spread-eagle to a contraption that closely resembled a clothing rack used to transport fur coats. The metal poles seemed fused into the floor and, upon closer inspection, he saw openings where cream-colored silk scarves looped through the metal, binding her wrists to the top and her ankles to the side. He closed his eyes, whispering, “It’s all an illusion, Aiden ol’ boy. Just roll over and forget about it.” Though the advice sounded good, he couldn't help but crack open an eye. Just as he'd hoped, Daniella hadn't disappeared. Mesmerized by the slender slope of her alabaster back, and swell of a perfect ass, he longed for the vision to stay firmly planted in his mind. It feels so real, though. So, touch her and find out, he chided himself. No harm done if it’s just a dream, right? Daniella struggled, pulling at the tight restraints. “Release me!” she demanded. Tendons in her neck rose to the surface of her skin as she strained to see behind her. Noticing another scarf tied over her eyes, his groin stirred to life. He had a thing for blindfolds. It’s only a dream, Aiden, so soften up that pecker of yours. She stopped moving, tilting her head toward him, almost as if she’d heard his thoughts. His eyes roved over her flawless skin and the deep, shadowed arch of her backside. The two mounds of rounded flesh looked just like the apple he'd imagined. Examining the contraption that held her, his first thought was ‘sadomasochism’. Although he believed in some pain as pleasure, pure pain just wasn’t his scene. The rack that held her, however, looked to be like the perfect teasing tool. An exotic scent suddenly wrapped around him, and it drew him closer. With a timid rise of his hand, he trailed a finger down her spine, inch by careful inch, stopping just above the swell of her apple ass. Whoa, she feels real. Daniella emitted a whispered sigh that sent explosive shivers coursing through his body. As he moved his hand lower, creating small, feathery circles with his fingers over the delicate crack, Aiden felt his body respond. He moved nearer until the hair on his chest brushed across the softness of her back. His breathing quickened as the bulge protruding from his PJ's caressed one of her thighs. A muted groan slipped out from the back of his throat, and his cock jumped and twitched from the contact.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

40

She arched her spine and Aiden complied, moving his body against her. With gentle, swaying motions, Daniella rotated her hips in an agonizingly slow side-to-side movement over his swelling cock. “Untie me!” There was no denying the authoritative tone in her voice, like someone accustomed to having her orders followed without whim, or argument. He had other ideas, however. This was his imagination, his dream, and he controlled it, not her. “No,” he answered. “It’s my fantasy, so I get to make the rules.” She stiffened. “Can you hear me?” When he received no answer, a sly grin lit upon his face. “I can’t break these damn bonds! Something's wrong. I demand that you untie me. Now!” she repeated. Tinges of desperation resonated in her voice. So, she likes being in control, does she? he mused, feeling his arousal heighten to a throbbing ache he felt right down in his toes. “You’re mine now. I’m lord and master,” he whispered, rubbing the silky material of his pant leg along the inside of her naked thigh. Her body went rigid, and the veins in her neck bulged as she pulled more aggressively on the scarves in an effort to free herself. Her struggles smacked her buttocks over his crotch, making him harder than he’d ever felt before. Never had a dream felt so real, or erotic. Chuckling softly, he leaned toward her other ear. “Personally, I’ve never been as turned on as I am now.” **** Daniella swallowed past her frustration, and shock, in an effort to figure out what was going on. Vampiric sleep always dropped her into an endless, black void where no dreams could invade her sanctuary, that is, not until meeting this Aiden Blackmore. The predicament of her situation confused her. She heard the detective’s thoughts as easily as if he'd spoken them aloud, so she still managed to maintain some of her special powers. Exactly what they were proved to be the daunting question. Are we dreaming this together? she wondered. The thought vanished as the feel of his fingertips traced along her spine, igniting a lust she felt only during her blood cycle, a cycle that Trenton’s blood had quashed. She pulled at the silk ties binding her wrists and legs, feeling the material cutting into her skin. A vampire of The First held captive by mere woven cloth? Her dark powers could bend this metal apparatus like putty, but something negated her gifts, making her as a helpless as any ordinary human. Aiden’s whispered breath in her ears kept creating currents of warmth to spread between her legs and body. Only fodder ever created such sensations to burn through her. “Untie me,” she demanded, gnashing her teeth in frustration. She needed to figure out just what the hell was going on. “No.” The warming touch of his hands slid around her, and he cupped the flesh of her breasts, squeezing gently. She gasped aloud as his thumbs brushed across each taut nipple, making them ache for more. “Untie me, and I will give you pleasure like none you’ve ever experienced before,” she said in a breathless whisper. She hated this vulnerability, this helplessness, but the dance his thumbs continued to do over her nipples drove her mad with desire, obliterating everything except the feel of his touch. No one ever held such power over her, vampiric or otherwise. Aiden paused and stilled his hands, as if pondering her proposal. She almost

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

41

screamed out for him not to stop, but she would not lower herself to beg. She forever held the power, and relinquishing it proved difficult, if not impossible to do. “No,” he said, resuming his attention back to her breasts. No? His flat out denial stunned her. She pulled with all her strength at the ties that held her, furious that he’d refused her request. No one denied her—ever! His right hand proceeded slowly down her stomach and she stopped struggling. Using the palm of his one hand to continue its delicious dance from one nipple to the other, he brushed ever so softly across each tip, creating an unquenchable fire between her cleft. His other hand drew a circle around her navel before moving lower to find the finger-width strip of downy hair leading to her nether region. His throaty groan vibrated through her neck, sending bolts of coursing electricity to race through her, engorging her clit to new heights. Aiden rubbed his palm over the shorn hair, teasing with playful pulls of his fingers. She realized she was breathing hot, harried pants of sexual excitement she’d so often heard in her humans. It’s only a dream! I'm just fantasizing I'm human, she reasoned with herself. Beads of sweat dotted her upper lip and forehead as she continued to twist and fight the restraints. She needed to touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin next to the coolness of her own and, oh, to slither and tease her tongue around the pulsing veins of his rigid dick. “Shhh.” His hot breath blew against her neck, inflaming her even more. “Remember, these are my rules.” The hushed, seductive purr in his voice quieted her and when his fingers slid between the slit of her pussy, his moan drowned out hers. Her hairless lips dripped with passion, and she pushed backward, eager for more of his touch. He continued his teasing, using two of his fingers to skim along the delicate folds of her skin, purposely avoiding her pleasure bud. She shivered as every nerve in her body awakened. A vision of his sudsy cock brought a feral growl to her lips. “Take your pants off, and slide yourself inside me. Do it … do it now!” “Ask nicely,” he cooed, rubbing the silky material of his crotch across her ass. Incensed by his lack of immediate obedience, she moved her hips in rhythm to his. I can tease too, she thought with a rueful toss of her head. When the width of his shaft barely fit inside the crack of her ass, she couldn’t help but wonder whether that shower dream had been a figment of her imagination. He’s huge! The outline of his cock spread the cheeks of her butt. The ache to have him inside her became a savage need. “By the dark Gods, slide that cock inside me, now … do it now!” she growled out. “You haven’t asked nicely, and I don’t want to scare you.” She refused to have another order ignored. With all her strength, she pushed herself back. “Show me. Show me how much you want me,” she said, clenching her teeth tight to keep from screaming. She realized then that her canines remained retracted. This was only a fantasy she’d created in her mind, a sexual interlude to be human, to be with Aiden. “Remove my blindfold!” Aiden chuckled, a low, seductive purr. “No.” When she sensed him sliding off his pants, she almost cried aloud with relief. The rockhard thickness of his shaft slid between her pussy lips, and their groans mingled together like notes to music. Still, Aiden refused to enter her. He teased his cock to and fro through the slick wetness between her lips, and every so often, he pushed the swollen head to hit the hooded skin of her clit, her knees buckling every time. His taunting, practiced movements drove her mad, and knew she’d lost all control.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

42

“Drown me, Daniella … just drown me,” he whispered. Dismayed to hear whimpers escaping from her lips, she did as he asked. She moved her hips in sinuous side-to-side motions, wanting to please him in every way possible. “Jesus, I’ve never felt anyone so wet … so eager ….” His moan of absolute pleasure and the pinching of her nipple between his nails caused Daniella to almost lose control, creating another flood to drench them both. The onslaught of his teasing surpassed anything she’d ever experienced. She was long past the point of caring, or trying to figure this scenario out. “Make me cum, Aiden. Yes, all over you … make me cum all over you!” she cried, lost in the throes of pleasure. As soon as the words left her mouth, Aiden gasped out an ‘ah, God’ and gripped the metal bar above their heads with both his hands. He braced himself, trying not move. His body oozed with sweat, mingling with hers, and she sensed the slight vibrations in his shaft enfolded by her labia as he moved closer to exploding. Taking control for the first time since this bizarre dream began, Daniella rotated her hips over his prick, slow and methodical, creating more of her juices to spill out down her thighs, saturating his hot, throbbing cock. “I can’t … shit, I don’t know how much longer … Daniella ….” His voice quivered, and his limbs shook from the pressure of holding himself back. “Slide your cock inside me, Aiden … please … fill me,” she begged, keeping the movement of her hips even and slow. “No,” he managed to choke out. Like a match to a candle, his final refusal ignited the explosive spark of her orgasm. It began slow, a continuing ache that built in momentum, a tidal wave about to be unleashed until the very moment she exploded, her body violently convulsing again and again, fulfilling his request. In the next heartbeat, he stiffened against her, exploding in shooting jets of hot cum all over her tender clit. Feeling each forceful spurt that hit her, she came again, screaming out his name. Aiden’s laden weight on her back felt warm and comfortable, and the hairs on his chest tickled her spine just right. His parting whisper of ‘holy shit’ followed her down into familiar darkness, into the void of vampiric slumber that she knew so well. **** Aiden opened his eyes and jumped out of bed, his heart racing as if he’d just run the mile. Pages of his notes stuck to his sweaty arms and chest. The worst was the stickiness of his orgasm soaking through the thin material of his PJ bottoms. His groin still throbbed by the intense lust and passion of the dream. Stranger still, he could smell Daniella's spicy scent emanating off his skin. He stumbled to the washroom, his mind racing over what had just happened. It felt so damn real! he thought, removing his pants and grumbling under his breath. “So real, that you creamed your PJ’s like some cheesy high school kid.” Washing the crotch area clean, and blotting out as much water as possible, he slid them back on, grimacing as the damp material made contact against his skin. The head of his cock ached from the intensity of his orgasm and he had to wipe the tip off several times to remove droplets of post-ejaculation that still dribbled whenever he thought of Daniella. Tiptoeing back to the guestroom, he threw his notes to the floor before lying across the bed. “If that was just a dream, I can only imagine what the real thing would be like.” He fell asleep, a brazen smile plastered across his face.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

43

Chapter Nine: Espouse Tsking under his breath, he concentrated more readily on the task at hand, whispering in a maniacal litany. “Patience, due diligence, and perfection, all the traits I excel at.” A low, unnatural chuckle slithered around him in the hushed silence. “Just a few more minor adjustments,” he mumbled past a toothy grin. He stood back at last, tilting his head to scrutinize the final result. “Well, now. I do believe you’re ready,” he said. Red-laced eyes trailed along the seam of a sleek, nylon stocking, traveling upward to the hem of a tartan skirt as a licentious gleam glowed in his depthless eyes. The woman could only stare back, terrified, her cries muffled by the silver duct tape covering her mouth. Thrusting himself into her again and again, each stroke harder, and more vicious than the last, his balls hardened with every smack against her buttocks, bringing him closer to the edge, a point where he lost himself completely. In his mind, he saw one thing, one person, and in less than a minute, he came, each forceful squirt quivering through his limbs. Standing to his feet, he forced his semi-hard dick, still sheathed in latex, back in his pants. Somewhat satiated, he glowered at the woman. “That was entirely your fault.” Fury gripped him, and he lashed out, kicking at the leg that had taken so long to arrange. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, sneering down at her. “You were a dead lay anyway.” Chortling at his joke, bloodstained, pearly whites glimmered in macabre amusement. Without a backward glance, he turned and left, humming as he strolled out the back door. Splayed out on a priceless Tibetan carpet in an elegant townhouse, Manvera Talbot became victim number five. **** Daniella opened her eyes without blinking, her mind awash with memories so vivid she checked to see whether she actually breathed. It was only a dream, she mused, shaking her head. But I don’t dream. Her fingers moved to the bedside table and she picked up the remote control. From concealed speakers, a symphony softly resonated in the room and she reminisced a time when she had once wrote her name as Anna Giraude. Vivaldi’s lilting music could always sooth her soul, but not this morning. Rising off the bed, she stopped, realizing dampness dribbled along the inside of her thighs. Wow, she thought. She stood and stretched up on her toes, humming in tune with the operatic concerto. As she lowered her arms, she examined her wrists. Although she found no ligature marks, a familiar sensation seeped into her preternatural flesh, much like the spray of bullets that had riddled through her body the night before. Deep crease lines formed on her forehead as she turned toward her bedroom entrance. Guided as if by a gust of wind, the door opened. “It was just a dream … a fantasy for a fool,” she muttered. Wallowing beneath the sprays of hot water, Daniella’s mind refused to put the dream away. Every nuance of Aiden’s body scored through her, his raw, masculine voice, and the lingering scent of his cologne haunted her like a relentless shadow. As she rubbed the soap over her breasts, she imagined his hands manipulating the flesh once more. Rolling her fingers over

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

44

her nipples, delectable tingles moved through her body, centralizing on the cleft between her legs. She shivered, though the sensations were nowhere close to what Aiden could create. Is this what it’s like to be alive? To breathe and gasp for air, to know the temperature of my skin remains warm, to beg …. There were times she wished to be human, but they were fleeting, and unimportant. She’d learned centuries ago to come to terms with what she was, for one cannot wish for something she cannot have. She wasn’t human, but something between, a hideous monster some would say. Reaching for the bottle of shampoo, Daniella pondered on the absurdity of these thoughts. She felt something else now, something more compelling and stronger than the fount of thick blood. To feel so weak and helpless …. She shuddered, and the bottle slipped from her fingers. She prided herself in the proficiency of her lovemaking skills, having spent several years under Geisha guidance. Aiden, however, created an animalistic want, and need, more vicious and wrenching than when she hunted—an inferno waiting to consume her. As her fingernails scraped across her sudsy scalp, she chided herself. “Next thing you know, I’ll be wanting to have his children.” Leaning her head back, she rinsed the soap from her hair. Dressed in a sheer blouse of saffron, which accentuated the black bra she wore beneath it, she tugged the zipper up on the long, black skirt that reached above her ankles. She stared at her reflection, and tapped her finger against her lip before finally deciding on a pair of brushed suede, high heel boots. Pausing to run a brush through her long tresses, she headed out the door and into the living room. Aiden’s essence flooded through her as she sensed him moving about in the guestroom. Greedy to know his thoughts, she barely managed to stop herself from doing so. The sense that she would violate him by rummaging through his mind still remained strong, staying her magic. Daniella looked out at the gloomy, gray sky that greeted her. “Kirkland is as dreary as Seattle for goodness sake." Suddenly, a telephone rang, screeching through the silence. As she moved to answer it, Aiden stepped from the hallway and entered the living room. From the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of bare chest riddled with fine hair. A well-practiced mask of calm slid over her face as she reached for the receiver. Refusing to look at him just yet, she could feel his keen gaze boring into her back. “Yes?” Expecting to hear Manvera's tirade of missed auctions, and appointments, a woman’s unfamiliar voice greeted her instead. “Is Aiden there?” The impatience laced in the tone rang clear. “Yes. May I ask who's calling?” Daniella kept her tone cold and aloof. A long pause followed. “No.” With a quizzical arch of her brow, she held the phone out to Aiden. “It’s for you.” He didn’t look at her when he took the receiver from her hand. Out of courtesy, she stepped away and relaxed on the couch, staring at his half-dressed body. His tousled locks created such a yummy image that she bit the bottom of her lip, but more interesting was the bareness of his chest. From her angle on the couch, she could see the hair illuminated a slight rusty hue. Taller and broader built than Trenton, she could not stop the seductive thoughts that came unbidden to her mind. He carries a badge, Daniella. Get a hold of yourself! Nonetheless, her eyes moved down the delightful bumps of his spine to the most gorgeous ass she’d ever seen. Even in black, the pronounced swell of his cheeks caused her mouth to water. Visions of him tied to the rack flashed through her mind, bringing with it an augmented heat between her legs. She was so lost in her fantasy, she didn’t realize he’d finished the conversation and was now

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

45

staring at her. The erratic beating of his heart brought her to the present, but the unnatural hue of his face gave her pause. “Something is wrong.” She didn’t pose it as a question. She watched him run a hand through the tangled mess of his hair as she pushed herself off the couch. He leaned from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable. “You mentioned your lawyer yesterday ….” “Manvera Talbot.” Daniella sensed an icy blanket envelope her. “They, um …." He hesitated, staring down at the floor. “I have to get dressed.” He started toward the hallway and his room, but Daniella moved so fast that she had his path blocked before he could take two steps. Stumbling back, his verdant eyes widened in shock. “Tell me what that telephone call was about,” she demanded, gnashing her teeth. If need be, I will read his mind, whether it's wrong or not. He faltered, as if trying to find the right words. Brushing his fingers through his hair again, he attempted to avoid her steely stare. “Tell me.” “Manvera Talbot …. Daniella, I think you should sit down.” “If I wanted to sit, I’d be sitting. Now, tell me!” she demanded, biting the inside of her cheek in frustration. Something strange flashed behind his eyes, a hint of recognition that appeared to startle him. He turned away, and answered. “They found Ms. Talbot’s body this morning.” Daniella could barely hear the words through the din of rising fury. This serial killer targeted men she’d slept with. Now, he'd just murdered someone dear to her. It took all her strength to contain her rage, especially in front of him. Quivering, all she could do was clench and unclench her fists. He stepped closer. "Daniella, are you all right?” She nodded, not yet trusting her voice. “Look, I have to go to the crime …. I have to go Ms Talbot’s townhouse ….” “I’m going with you! Just give me a minute to … to collect myself.” She found it difficult to keep her mouth closed, and her teeth retracted inside her gums. Each word she forced out with biting rancor. “You should stay here,” he said. “I’ll have a squad car come ….” Through her roiling anger, Daniella sensed slithering tendrils of his worry fighting its way through her consciousness. Stranger still, and stronger than any emotion she’d sensed emanating from him before, she felt a genuine concern for her well being. It created a calm in the rushing flood of violence flowing through her, abridging her mind and body to a more coherent state. “Just give me a minute. That’s all I ask,” she said, trying to keep her voice low and even. He nodded, a slight flush spreading across his face. “I turned my cell off last night, but I’m sure Barlow’s been screaming messages into it all morning. I’ll get dressed and then we’ll go. Okay?” Daniella rushed past him without saying a word, making every effort to keep her movements slow and normal. As soon as she entered the sanctity of her bedroom, she fell to the floor, her arms wrapping around her stomach as the loss of Manvera rent through her. Tears slid down her face in tiny rivulets of blood as she rocked back and forth, swallowing back screams of anguish.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

46

The Talbot family had acted as loyal servants to her for over five generations. They knew what manner of creature they worked for and yet they bound themselves to her secret out of admiration, curious awe, and the abundant amount of money she paid them. Highly respected and educated, the Talbots consisted of a close knit family of lawyers, financiers, and high profile executives, dating back many generations. Only a select few knew of her, and one Talbot always waited in the wings, meticulously groomed to take over her affairs. They were the family she never had. Manvera had worked for her for years, becoming Daniella’s only friend and confidant, next to her grandfather, Connor. To kill her playthings was one thing, now this bastard had touched blood she considered sacred. She bit down on her lips, suckling the coppery liquid in hope of easing some of her pain. Someone knew of her vampiric life, someone that wished to destroy her. She rose to her feet and stumbled to the bathroom. Gripping the side of the marble sink with one hand, she grabbed a towel with the other and stuffed it in her mouth. Her tormented wail of grief resonated off the bathroom walls. In her stupor, a piece of the sink broke off in her hand, and in a rage, she threw it at the mirror, shattering the ornate glass into thousands of shards. “Daniella? Are you all right? Talk to me, Daniella!” The sanguine fog clouding her mind began to clear as Aiden’s sympathetic voice persisted. Tearing away the towel from her mouth, she pressed her eyes shut, fighting back the onslaught of tears. “I’m … I’m fine. I just need ... another moment … please.” Her tone quivered with emotion, and she despised the weakness. She turned on the taps, and splashed her face with water, watching her bloody tears pinken before disappearing down the drain. She scrubbed her bloodstained cheeks with the towel, forcing the shaking of her limbs to cease. Closing her eyes, she counted to ten before walking to the door. Aiden stood there, pale and frightened. “Look, I can do this alone. You can stay here ….” “No. I’m fine now.” Even to her own ears, her voice echoed cold and emotionless, her need for revenge filling the empty void of Manvera’s loss. She needed to see her friend one last time, and perhaps her vampiric eyesight, and sense of smell might be able find something the police could not. I shall bring this madness to an end. She pursed her lips and shut her eyes for a moment. “I’m ready,” she said, and brushed past him out the door. When I discover who you are, you will pray that the devil himself found you instead! she vowed.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

47

Chapter Ten: Quagmires The car ride across town to Manvera’s townhouse proved even more uncomfortable than the day before. It’s like ten degrees colder in here, Aiden thought, suppressing a shiver as he sneaked a sidelong glance at the dark beauty beside him. Daniella kept her attention fixated on the rain-splattered window, saying not a word. Even as the city landscape dissolved into treed suburbia, the strained silence continued. He sensed an impenetrable shield surrounding her and, by its familiarity, he knew enough to let such lionesses alone. The sullen demeanor he could understand. Shit, some deranged serial killer just killed her friend. Who can blame her, for Christ sakes? The sounds of her muffled cries sneaking through the walls of her bedroom had clenched at his heart. He sensed terrible loneliness in her and the grief she tried so hard to disguise wrenched at his guts so bad even his testicles hurt. Now, she acted as if nothing had happened, using her aloofness as a cold barrier between them. It just wasn’t right and neither was the damp chill settling around the car’s interior. Suppressing another shiver, he flinched at the sound of her voice. "Take Vallore Drive." "Pardon me?" "Cut across here, and take the next right at Dorchester; turn left on Vallore Drive. You’ll miss the morning rush hour." He nodded and mumbled, "Sure." With a flick of his wrist, he flipped on the signal light, and turned on Dorchester. Well, isn’t this a kick in the ass with a frozen mukluk, he thought, the strange but wonderful dream nothing more than a faint memory now. The nerves around his eyes tightened as he thought about the eggs benedict he didn’t get to eat. I should have gone to the kitchen first, he grumbled to himself. Waking earlier than usual, he’d used the time to shower and shave before summoning the courage to venture into the living room. He was about to get dressed when he heard the phone ringing, and he’d raced to get it before Daniella did. Thanks, Dixie. Nothing like calling me on my cell instead. He sensed Daniella shifting in the seat beside him, and when he looked her way, she continued to stare out the window. His thoughts turned to Barlow’s bellowing messages on his cell telling him to ‘get his ass down there’ more times than necessary. The urgency in the captain's voice was enough to immediately press redial as he dressed and waited for Daniella to compose herself. At first, the captain didn’t like the idea of Daniella tagging along to a crime scene, but stranger still, it didn’t take a great deal of persuasion to sway Barlow’s mind either. Maybe she’ll see something out of place … anything to give us a better edge on this asshole, the captain’s voice echoed in his head. Well, what the hell will she see that I won’t? he wondered. He remembered the look in her eyes and the tone she’d used while they were leaving. Sure, she hid her pain well, but his Momma raised no fool. He sensed a change in her, something dangerous, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He glimpsed at her profile in the corner of the rearview mirror. Her creamy skin and glassy, olive eyes held him mesmerized for a moment, then those threads of determination, and

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

48

violence sliced through him. Would it be too much to ask that there be no carvings this time around? he inwardly groaned. Grimacing, he forced the image of his name on Savino’s stomach out of his mind. Hell, here goes nothing. Taking a deep breath, he asked, "Do you want to talk about it?" "No." The even keel of her voice pressed him on. "How long did you know her? I mean, Manvera." She turned to him her face cold and expressionless. "Are you asking me as a cop, or just making polite conversation?" He alternated his attention between her and the slick road. "A little of both, I suppose," he said, offering a small smile. She turned back to the window before answering. "Manvera worked for me for … for almost twenty years." "She was your lawyer for that long?" He hid his shock with difficulty. Just how frigen old is she? She must pay through the nose on beauty cream. He’d learned early in life to never ask a woman her age, but hell, Daniella looked amazing, and no older than twenty herself. A long, stilted silence followed. "Yes, and my friend." Stopping the car at a four-way intersection, he pursed his lips into a frown. He knew he should just shut up, but cop instincts took over. "Then you two were close?" He cringed when he saw her stiffen against the car seat. "Yes." Aiden heard the pain in her voice. "I’m sorry, Daniella." She whipped her head around, glaring at him with eyes filled with such fury that he unconsciously placed his foot on the brake. "What the fuck are you sorry about?" she snarled out. Her misdirected anger brought bitter bile to rise in his throat. He swallowed it back, fighting his own rising ire. "Wait one hairy ass minute. I’m just doing my job, and I don’t care if you like it or not. I was also trying to make polite conversation." Softening his tone, he ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I know this is difficult …." "You know nothing about me, or Manvera." "That’s right," he said, biting back more rancor. "I don’t know a thing about either of you, but this I do know. One of you is dead, and that makes it my business. So, you can answer my questions now, or we can do the same thing as we did yesterday down in Barlow’s office. Your call." He snapped his mouth closed, grinding his teeth as he turned the vehicle left on Vallore. The mood between them darkened even more as he brooded as much as Daniella. About half a mile down the meticulously treed two-lane road, a complex of expensive townhouses loomed in the distance. "At the first entranceway …." She stopped. It wasn’t difficult to spot the flashing lights of cruiser cars. Aiden parked behind several black and whites and jumped out. Daniella, already out of the car, ducked under the neon-yellow police tape without waiting for him, and he noticed that not one police officer attempted to stop her. Shaking his head, he jogged to catch up to her, flashing his badge as he went. As he stepped across the threshold, the sound of angry voices echoed from down the dark hallway. He followed the noise into a large sitting room where at least a dozen officers scoured

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

49

the crime scene in the midst of intermittent flashing of forensic cameras. In a far corner by a massive stone hearth, he saw Dixie and Daniella in the middle of a heated discussion. "I don’t care who the hell you are, or if she was your queen! You’re contaminating the crime scene. Got it? Officer, escort this …." "She stays, Dixie." Both women turned, their faces identical masks of wrath. He focused his attention on Dixie, thinking, I can only take one of them on at a time. "Aiden?" The coroner’s dark scowl deepened. "What do you mean ‘she stays’." Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed her cell from her belt, frantically pressing numbers as she strode a few steps away. He knew the numbers she pressed belonged to Barlow. Good. Let him deal with her, he thought dourly. When he peered at Daniella, she lowered her lashes and stared at the carpet. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear she’s embarrassed, but it’s hard to tell on her. "I’m sorry that I caused a scene," she said, glaring at Dixie’s back. "It’s okay. I’m just thankful I got here before any claws got swinging. You’d be a match for her, let me tell ya." "No one is a match for me, Aiden." The dry conviction and sadness in her simple statement caused one of his brows to arc. He opened his mouth to ask what she meant, but she cut him off. "Can I see her now?" Her cold, flat tone had returned, and he could only nod. He stole a glance toward Dixie, who appeared caught up in another heated conversation with Barlow. Taking Daniella’s arm, he guided her to the far right corner of the fireplace and the body that lay covered beneath a blue, plastic tarp-like blanket. She crossed to the opposite end and knelt, as Aiden moved to the other side of the body. Seeing her slight nod, he grasped the corner of the plastic sheet when Dixie’s voice stopped him. "I’ll do that, thank you very much." The coroner's voice dripped with icy disdain. "Captain Barlow straighten it out?" he asked, fighting back a smirk. Standing to his feet, he let the coroner take his place. "I don’t have to like it," she grumbled, narrowing her eyes at Daniella, who only glared back. Dixie removed the covering, the crinkling plastic sounding louder than it should. Aiden closely watched Daniella’s reaction. Tilting her head, she stared down at her friend, the woman who’d once administered all her affairs, legal and otherwise. Manvera’s mousy brown hair streaked with subtle gray strands lay like a crown around her head. Dull, gray eyes stared upward, seeing nothing, just like Savino's had. He noticed the paleness of her skin looked a lot like Daniella's, translucent and flawless. The injuries caused spider-like capillaries to burst beneath her flesh, faintly crisscrossing over her face and neck, disappearing beneath her bloodstained blouse. Like the other victims, her throat looked chewed and spit out. Dixie held up one of her wrists and again, he saw two neat slices staring back at him as if in mockery. "Is there …." Dixie’s lips almost disappeared as she pursed them together. She stood and addressed a member of her forensics team. "Andy, clear the room for a minute, will ya?" she murmured. With an offhand nod, her rotund assistant began issuing orders. In under a minute, only the three of them remained.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

50

"Are you going to be okay?" Daniella looked up, startled by Dixie’s question. Aiden saw concern in the older woman’s eyes. Dixie, you ol’ softie, he chuckled to himself. "Yes," Daniella whispered. "I was in the lab all night going over Savino. Something new came to light, Aiden. I didn’t think to check because, well, it’s not, you know, routine." "Spit it out, Dixie." He crossed his arms, his eyes roving over Manvera, wanting to tear open her white, ruffled blouse to see beneath it, but the coroner’s expression told him there was more. "Okay, I have Barlow’s authorization to discuss pertinent facts about the case in front of—of Ms. Rolfe, so let me lay down the facts. This victim is very different. Number one, he’s changed MOs. All four victims were men, killed within thirty to thirty-three days. The time pattern here is way off. I also found traces of adhesive across her mouth, which leaves me to believe he used tape to silence her screams. He never had to muzzle his victims before, but then again, we found them in remote areas, not in their homes. Ms. Talbot is a successful businesswoman with no connections that I can see to the other victims, but only a day separates Savino and her … and she’s been raped." A feral growl erupted from Daniella, and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand straight up. He shivered, and even Dixie paled. "Then you’ll have DNA," Daniella sounded calmer, and colder, if that was at all possible. Dixie shook her head. "No, we don’t. This bastard's too clever. He used a condom. Now, for my other disturbing news. Savino appears raped, as well." Aiden blinked several times, staring in muted horror. "Damn! Am I the only one totally freaked out by this?" he asked. Both women appeared calm and composed, while he felt like throwing up. "You’re shitting me, right?" he managed to croak out from his parched throat. "I don’t shit, remember, Aiden? I’m just full of it. Now back to Savino. There was something I noticed about his pants. When we found him, his zipper was slightly open. Not unusual, especially if he’d had a few drinks. He could have stopped, relieved himself. It’s not unlikely." She paused, eyeing Daniella critically. "I take it that afterward … he showered?" Daniella nodded. Dixie’s perplexed frown caused deep lines to crease over her forehead. "Yep, the reason I didn’t suspect anything like this. Last night, I don’t know, maybe it was a full moon, or something, but I took a closer look at the genitalia and found anal tearing …." Daniella opened her mouth to speak, but Dixie held up her hand and cut her off. "Again, who’s to say what he was doing that night." She paused, a small, rueful smile twisting up her lips, "but I noticed tearing all along the inside of the anal walls. The ruptures I found cause me to believe it was nonconsensual sex. I’ve ordered the first three victims exhumed, much to the families’ grief, I might add." The coroner’s face puckered into a distasteful grimace. "If he used a condom, you can test for a particular brand of latex, right?" Aiden’s eyes widened at Daniella’s question. She sounds just like a cop. "You’ve been watching too much television. Do you know how many companies use the exact same ingredients in their latex? Unless it’s a unique type, I doubt we’re going to get a hit, but it’s a shot in the dark that I’m looking in to."

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

51

For moment, Aiden saw a look of respect flash over Dixie’s face, but it was fleeting and gone before she continued. "Now, the cause of death is pretty evident—the neck wound and wrists. The other victims were men, and it’s not normal procedure to check for rape, if you know what I mean," she said, rolling her eyes, "but with Ms. Talbot here, it’s the first thing I checked for. There’s similar, vicious tearing all along the vaginal walls. Whoever did this, he didn’t give a shit about her." Dixie rose off the floor, walking a few feet away as her fingers scratched over her forehead in frustration. "So, you’re the one with the initials," she asked, staring pointedly in Daniella’s direction. Aiden knelt where Dixie had been and examined the neck wound. Again, he saw the skin savagely ripped, and he swore it looked like teeth marks. But what the hell do I know? Every thing about this case is like a sicko circus. With a timid, steadfast hand, Daniella reached out and straightened a strand of Manvera’s hair. "Yes, I am," she whispered to Dixie. The coroner moved and sidled next to Daniella. With deft fingers, she worked at the lower buttons of Manvera’s blouse, and pulled aside the material. Aiden realized he held his breath as each button slipped through a buttonhole. Exhaling with a difficult heave of his lungs, a slow throb began picking up momentum behind his eyes. Combined with the smell of stale wood smoke emanating from the fireplace, and the metallic stench of blood, his empty stomach began doing somersaults. Then everything inside went numb. All three of them stared down at the shape of a heart encircling the initials D.R. and A.B. carved into Manvera’s abdomen as if like some lovesick adolescent was professing his love into the bark of a tree.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

52

Chapter Eleven: Astray Aiden’s cell rang and he rose off the floor, his knees creaking in protest. Feeling dizzy, and a little unsteady on his feet, he mumbled, “Hello?” “Same bastard?” Barlow’s voice sounded hollow and far away, and he shook his head to gather his wits. “Looks that way,” he said, turning his back on the message sliced and diced into Manvera’s skin in order to concentrate. “How's Ms. Rolfe?” He shifted around and stared deep into Daniella’s green gaze. He saw fury, and sadness, and something else that made him stumble back a step, startled by its vehemence. Vengeance? He turned away. “Um, as well as can be expected,” he said, running a shaky hand through his hair. A long silence followed. “You still there, Captain?” “Yeah. Just thinking is all. Don’t you leave her side, Aiden. Got it?” “Yes, Captain, but I have to interview Sebastian LaMarre at three o’clock, and she doesn’t need ….” “Freemont Elite Services just called. They’ve changed the time because LaMarre isn’t available. You can meet with him at Freemont’s office at around six. Just keep her as close to you as possible. We’ve managed to keep her name out of this mess, and yours, too, but who knows for how long. Have her sit in the car if need be, and for Christ sakes, keep an eye on her. Understand?” “Yes, Sir,” he replied, heaving a laden sigh. “Call me when you finish questioning LaMarre,” Barlow said before the phone went dead. He slipped the cell into his pocket and watched in silent fascination as Daniella pulled out three gold coins from the pocket of her skirt. She placed one on Manvera’s forehead, another between her lips, and the last one on the center of her chest. “It’s an old custom where I come from,” she said, no louder than a hushed whisper. “The coin on her forehead will guide her to the gates, the coin between her lips will allow her to pay for the passage, and the one closest to her heart is the key to open those gates and allow her to enter.” Dixie looked up at him, confusion and shock swimming in her blue eyes. “She just contaminated my crime scene!” she blurted out. Daniella stood, grasping her hands in front of her as if in prayer. “You’ll find the coins completely free of any contaminants, Ms. Dixon.” With an indignant toss of her head, she left the room. Aiden could only stand there, speechless, and for once, Dixie's smart-ass retort died on her lips. Turning on his heels, he followed Daniella out. ****

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

53

Thick silence permeated between them on the ride back to the penthouse. When the steel buildings of the city center passed by, Aiden’s voice cut through the stillness. “You always carry three gold coins in your pocket?” She faced him. It made little difference that she willed the coins into existence with her gifts, and the lie came easy to her lips. “I took them from my dresser before I left.” “Oh.” He paused. “Is that a ritual from Scotland then?” Pinching the bridge of her nose, she despised the cat and mouse game they played. She wanted nothing more than to hide away in her room and sort things out, but Aiden’s genuine concern nestled inside her, creating a calming warmth that felt odd, yet so comforting. “Yes, and no. I’m also part … Egyptian,” she said, as if that explained everything. “I thought you were Parisian?” Removing his eyes off the road, he stared at her, his expression filled with incredulous wonder. “I am. That’s where I lived, most of life. My … my father was apparently Egyptian. That’s all I know about him. He … I never knew my father.” She felt as if she sat on a pile of burning nettles. Not even the Talbots knew of this, and she found herself more than a little shocked that she’d just revealed this to him. “You’re full of surprises, Daniella Rolfe.” His crooked smile tugged at her, and she turned away, feeling that strange heat wash over her face. “You don’t know the half it,” she murmured under her breath. “Pardon me?” “Never mind. I need to make some phone calls to the Talbot family and confirm that proper funeral arrangements are made.” She sensed tendrils of his surprise. “I’ll pay for the arrangements. Manvera was killed because of me and it’s ... it’s the least I can do.” To her dismay, Aiden reached over to grasp her hand, but she drew back, involuntarily flinching. Although her body temperature hovered between ninety-four degrees, nowhere near as cold as it was during her blood cycle, she felt uncomfortable touching him. A memory of his hands teasing her breasts filled her mind, and she shook the image away. He placed his hand back on the wheel, offering her a tight smile. “It’s not your fault, Daniella,” he said at last. Trying to forget the morbid details this case presented, Daniella concentrated her attention outside the window. All of them ... raped! Is there any greater violation than that? A sad sigh slipped out from between her lips as she answered. “Yes, it is, Aiden. I don’t know why, or how, but it is. Now this maniac dragged you into it, too.” Her body trembled as a spark of rage ignited like fire inside her. They didn’t speak any more until they returned to her penthouse. She walked straight to the bar and lifted out a bottle of absinthe. Aiden said nothing, watching her pour a shot glass full of the bright, green liquid. Turning her back on him, she stared outside, taking a small sip, savoring the bitter linseed and licorice rolling around her tongue before swallowing. “If that’s what I think it is, you better be careful.” His voice forced her to face him. “Alcohol does little to calm my nerves, however, the wormwood in absinthe does. It makes the blood flow … better.” She downed the contents and poured another, trying to work her mind around Manvera’s death. Vampiric teeth marks are on her neck, and these stupid, fool humans think it’s probably an animal. A vampire is hunting my territory, and covering his DNA tracks just as carefully as I do mine, she thought, feeling her anger rise again. She looked up at Aiden, who still stood by the elevator doors. Grabbing the

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

54

slender neck of the bottle, she strolled to the couch and sat, crossing one leg over the over. She knew he followed her movements and, in the midst of her angst, a savage heat spread through her. Pinching her brows together, she heaved a depressed sigh and poured another shot, downing it like the last. “It’s not quite noon, Daniella. Don’t you think you’re starting a bit early?” She heard the concern laced behind his words, but all she wanted was a little numbness right now. Perhaps to go back to sleep and reenter that wonderful dream of theirs, and forget this horrid mess had happened. “I just need a moment of respite, okay?” she said, tilting the lip of the bottle over the shot glass again. He sat down beside her, and his scent filled her nose, causing a giddiness that in no way related to the absinthe. As she stared straight ahead, she swallowed yet another shot, finally feeling the effects of the herb flowing through her blood. Like doses of fresh oxygen to a human, the thujone drug contained in the wormwood created a euphoric sensation, and she sighed again, leaning back against the couch. Aiden’s seductive chuckle filled her ears. “Well, it’s five o’clock somewhere, right?” he said. “Do you have any beer?” With a lethargic roll of her head, she nodded toward the kitchen door. “Help yourself.” She half-sensed Aiden rise, and the clicking open of the kitchen door echoed dimly in her ears. Closing her eyes, she relished in the sensation of the wormwood working its way through her system. They didn’t sell this alcohol in stores and, in fact, she was breaking the law by possessing it in this country. She purchased the specialized liquor from a family in Switzerland, who guarded the recipe like dragons and gold, and she paid nearly that amount just to obtain the outlawed liquid. Only this absinthe could create a drunken stupor for her. She continued drinking, allowing the numbness that followed to take over. Although the amount of thujone currently in her system was enough to kill a human, her preternatural body reacted differently. In human terms, she felt like she’d polished off half a bottle of scotch, and smoked several large joints. It felt good to relax away her pain and worries in an anesthetized stupor. She downed another shot and refilled the glass, spilling some of the vicious green liquor onto the coffee table. By the time Aiden returned to the living room, she knew the effects were noticeable. At last, an escape, if for just a little while. When he sat down again, she turned to him. She knew she shouldn’t say anything, but the gnawing pit in her stomach and the drink began loosening her tongue. “Those were teeth marks on her neck,” she said, hearing the slur of her words as she spoke. He raised a brow and took a large draught from a bottle of imported beer before answering. “What makes you say that?” he asked, his tone guarded, and hushed. Hmmm, he doesn’t look surprised. With her head leaning back against the couch, she paused to consider this further. Could he suspect what really killed these people? she thought, feeling somewhat amused by this. “The ripping of the skin, the thin slivers and markings. It’s … teeth. E-long-ga-ted teeth.” Her legs tingled as the drug took more control, and she felt a silly grin plastered across her face. “He loses himself in the lust of the act … have you ever done … I mean, done that? Lo-o-se yourself in lust?” Her body flushed with heat as the words left her lips, and a sweet moistness dampened between her legs. Aiden’s chestnut hair hung over his one eye, and she raised a hand to push it back, hearing his sharp intake of breath. His ice green eyes bored into hers and that special spell of his ensnared her once more. “Yes,” he said, licking his lips before taking another sip of beer.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

55

“He’sss really trying to be neat about it,” she whispered past numb lips. “The parallel cutsss on the wristsss—he’s feeding, showing me … me his control, his talent, his f-f-fine tastesss ….” “I think that’s enough for you,” she heard him say, barely feeling the glass leave her fingers. “Aiden?” “Yeah?” “He’sss hunting and … and feeding. He’sss ssshowing off to me.” She knew she shouldn’t be sharing this information, but she couldn’t help herself. Damn. She’d forgotten to call the Talbots. It was too late now, for the thujone controlled her system. She’d have to sleep it off. The feel of Aiden’s arms engulfing her brought a whispered sigh to her lips. Her body fit like a perfect match against his chest as he effortlessly carried her to the bedroom. Laying her head against his shoulder, she savored the clean, virile smell emanating off him. As he laid her out on the bed, she fumbled with the murkiness that clouded her brain and threatened to take her down into its depths. “Aiden?” she said, forcing her lips to move. “Just rest, okay, Daniella? It’s been a trying morning.” “I will p-p-protect you from himmm,” she hummed. Then the darkness claimed her. Aiden stared down at her sleeping form, wishing he could just lie down and spoon his body around her to protect her from this madness that had entangled them both. Her exotic, spicy perfume filled him to the core, and he took a deep breath, wallowing in the pleasure it brought him. She'd felt as light as a feather in his arms, and so cold. Shock would have that effect, he reasoned. Feeling somewhat better, now that she slept, he brushed back his hair, thinking about the haircut he needed to get. Pulling a down-filled quilt over her, he walked out, leaving the door open, just in case she woke. “She’ll protect me?” he muttered, grabbing his beer and placing his feet up on the coffee table. Realizing he shouldn’t do that, he placed his shoes on the floor, and took another sip from the bottle. So, she thinks they’re teeth marks too, along with Dixie and I. Fuck! This just gets crazier by the minute. Rubbing his clean-shaven chin, he thought upon her words. He’s trying to be neat about it…the parallel cuts on the wrists. He’s feeding, showing me his control, his talent, his fine tastes. “Just what the hell does that mean? If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was talking about a … vampire.” Just the thought made him laugh aloud. He ambled over to the floor-to-ceiling window, and stared at the fine mist saturating the city of Kirkland. Lose yourself in lust? he asked himself. A rueful smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Oh, yes, Daniella, I have … completely lost myself.” He finished off the beer and retreated into the kitchen where he’d seen a plastic covered plate containing three eggs benedict. He popped it into a stainless steel microwave, and carried the food back into the living room, carefully placing the hot plate onto the expensive coffee table. Here’s hoping she wakes before I have to leave to meet with LaMarre, he thought. He took a mouthful and a wide grin spread over his face as he devoured the best eggs benedict he’d ever tasted.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

56

Chapter Twelve: Vicissitude By the time Daniella woke, sinuous shadows danced across the walls of her bedroom. Turning her head, she saw colorless light streaming through her door from the open windows in the living room. Looking at the ceiling, bleary-eyed and feeling unfocused, she ignored the impious thirst parching at the back of her throat, the one repercussion she experienced from absinthe, a hunger for blood. The craving would dissipate in a few hours, just like a hangover, but she despised the gnawing want for the coppery liquid, like an alcoholic craves a little hair of the dog that bit them, so to speak. Hazy thoughts slithered through her head. She felt sluggish and lethargic, but without a headache and ill stomach like usual hangovers. Pushing back the quilt, she shuffled toward the bedroom door and halted, the foggy memories clearing with resounding clarity. What the … Daniella, you fool! she thought, slapping her palm against her forehead. I’ve never allowed my tongue to slip like that, not even to Manvera! Shit and damn! I allowed myself to get inebriated, and throw centuries of habits straight out the window. Growling under her breath, she stumbled to the edge of the bed and sat, trying to figure it out. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. Her internal senses jolted as she picked up Aiden’s heartbeat. It crept over and through her like a lover’s caress whose hands engulfed her entire body, resonating inside at a steady, rhythmic beat, warm and comforting. She closed her eyes, absorbing his essence. Can it be that I’ve kept this secret so long that I need to share it with someone? she wondered, standing to pace the length of her room. She wrapped her arms around herself, hugging her body to try to keep Aiden within her, to meld with him. Emitting a hopeless sigh, she sat back on the bed again. Has Manvera’s death marked a weakness in me, or is it Aiden himself? Overwhelmed by the tumult of emotions, the one most prominent was the arousal whenever she thought of him. Only her blood cycle prompted such unabashed needs and wants. True, she’d had more men than any man or woman alive, but not because of promiscuity. She took partners only to appease her blood cycle. Nor did she kill indiscriminately, unlike her vampire kin. Is it time for me to share this with someone else, other than a Talbot? Is Manvera’s death a changing point in my life? Her silent questions brought a shiver to tickle along her spine. Sensing movement outside from Aiden, she turned toward the door. If I told him, what would he do with the knowledge? A sardonic grin lit upon her lips. He wouldn’t believe it anyway. The smile faded into a worried frown. Or would he? Daniella! she scolded herself. He’s a man of authority! He could destroy you. Sitting for a while longer, she realized arguing with herself was getting her nowhere, and she resigned herself to the fact that she had to face him sooner or later. “I’ll just tell him it was the absinthe talking, not me.” Or was it? She found the detective dozing on the couch, an empty plate sitting on the coffee table and his blazer casually thrown across the back of a Queen Anne chair. Glancing at the darkening skies, she placed the time at almost six o’clock. She lowered the blinds and, as she turned on the lights, the gentle sound of pattering rain against the window broke through the stillness. She touched Aiden lightly on the shoulder and jumped back a step when he bounded to his feet, his hand reaching for the gun housed in a tan leather holster that crossed over one broad shoulder.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

57

“It’s okay, Aiden. It’s just me,” she said, displaying an uncertain smile. “You’re awake. Goddamn it! I was dreaming about a man—rape—Jesus, too bizarre.” He righted himself and pushed back the sleeve of his shirt, checking his wristwatch, and groaned. “Ah, shit! I’m late. My interview with LaMarre ….” “Then go.” Perfect, she thought. A few hours alone to work things through my mind. Aiden was quick to burst her bubble, however. “I can’t leave you here alone.” Crossing her arms over her chest, a stubborn scowl etched across her features. He patted down his unkempt hair. “What I mean to say is that Captain Barlow ordered me to stay with you at all times, and I intend to stick to that order, especially after—Manvera. Damn it! I meant to call an officer to come stay with you when I left but … I fell asleep.” Rushing to the chair in the corner, he retrieved his blazer, gripping it tight in his fist as he shifted from foot to foot. Bemused by his boyish mannerisms and the innocent display he portrayed, she shrugged, and to her surprise, she found herself chuckling. “Well, if it helps matters, I fell asleep, too, though mine was self-induced.” She paused, wondering if she should say anything. “I was pretty exhausted. I didn’t sleep … right last night.” “What’d you mean by that?” The sharpness in his tone caught her off guard and because she didn’t quite trust herself to say the right thing, she moved to the couch, giving herself a moment to think. “I don’t normally dream, and last night—let’s just say I didn’t get much rest.” Staring at the dirty plate littering the coffee table, she wondered why the maids hadn’t cleaned up. Because they saw Aiden here, that’s why. There were times when Daniella caught the hired help looking oddly at her, and she couldn’t blame them. Male companions during her blood cycle were always gone by morning, so never once did these women see a man in her presence. So why do I keep a room full of men’s clothes? she thought, a demure smile dancing across her lips. “I … um … I have to get this interview done with LaMarre, and I'm left with little choice here. You’ll have to come with me.” Uneasiness crept over her. As she studied him, a deep flush crept up his thick neck before blossoming over his face. Worse yet, she felt the same heat rising in her cheeks, though she knew it didn’t show like it did on him. Realization hit her. The dream! By the dark gods. Could we have shared that same dream? she wondered, awed by the thought, and curiously delighted. Magic caused strange things to occur between people who shared a cosmic-like connection. Aiden looked so uncomfortable, she had to appease her curiosity. “I’ll tell you my dream, if you tell me yours.” A seductive thrill rushed through her, tingling the precious nerves between legs. He appeared to compose himself quite quickly. She could see telltale signs of embarrassment still highlighting his eyes, though it vanished when his infamous lopsided grin spread across his face. “Is this anything like, ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours’?” She burst out laughing, and for the first time in well over a hundred years, it felt good to experience something so genuine. “Why, Detective Blackmore. Are you trying to seduce me?” A rumbling chuckle followed, and as if catching himself, he glared down at his watch again and back up to her, all amusement gone, except for a mischievous twinkle glowing in those verdant pools. “Not at the moment. Right now, we have to get going.”

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

58

“He carries a badge, Daniella,” she murmured under her breath, crossing the room to get a coat. **** Aiden used his police flasher to avoid red lights and stop signs. By the time the offices of Elite’s Professional Services came into view, it was fifteen minutes after six. For the first time, he and Daniella chitchatted in casual comfort. They talked about the dreary weather and the recent developments done to waterfront neighborhood, carefully avoiding all other topics, especially the murder and rape. Every time he thought about it, he wanted to puke. Pulling the car into an empty stall next to three white stretch limos, he parked, but didn’t get out right away. He scanned the lot and building, ensuring they were alone. “Aren’t you going in?” He turned toward her. “Yeah. I just wanted to make sure ….” “No one is around,” she finished for him. “Don’t worry about me, Aiden. I’ll stay here with the doors locked, I promise. I can take care of myself.” He exited, and bent over the open door, brandishing a devilish grin. “You said you’d protect me from him, too, and I plan to hold you to that.” He slammed the door, and walked into the building, feeling her startled gaze following him. The main offices of Elite’s overlooked the parking lot and from where Aiden waited for LaMarre, he had a perfect view of his car. Well, this couldn’t be more convenient, could it? The office door opened, and in walked a young man, clean-shaven with blond, almost white hair fashionably layered to frame a long, thin face. A spattering of freckles dotted his pale nose, and at first glance, he could have sworn the kid was no older than sixteen, although Elite’s employee records showed him being twenty-two. LaMarre appeared to hesitate for a moment before he walked in, extending his hand out toward Aiden. “Hi, there. I’m Detective Blackmore, and you must be Sebastian LaMarre?” he said, shaking the young man’s hand. Sebastian nodded. “The boss said you wanted to talk to me.” Releasing the detective’s hand, he pulled up a chair standing beside a rickety looking desk and moved it closer to Aiden’s chair. “Well, what can I do for the Kirkland Police Department?” He noted that although LaMarre appeared lanky, he had a firm, sinewy handshake. Polite and convivial, the kid looked more like a poster boy for a popular gay magazine. Pulling out a pen and his notepad, Aiden turned to a clean page. Taking one more glimpse out the window to see Daniella sitting, and waiting, he began his questioning. “You were the last one to see Trenton Savino, correct?” “Yes. I didn’t even know he was dead until today when my boss told me.” “When Mr. Savino left, Ms. Rolfe indicated that the two of you were talking. What about?” “He wanted to walk home, and I tried to talk him out of it. I really didn’t know the neighborhood, you know, whether it was safe or not. He said he lived nearby and wanted some night air to clear his mind. To me, he looked a little wasted, if you know what I mean.” Sebastian smiled, although it didn’t reach his azure eyes. “He gave me a fifty, and told me just to head home. It was pretty late, and I was bushed, so I let him go.” “Which way did he leave?” “Pardon.” “Which direction did he head? East, west ….”

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

59

“Oh. I think … east. Yeah, east.” Keeping his head down, Aiden wrote every detail. He noted the kid looked too innocent, but his small stature bothered him. Sebastian wasn’t big enough to take a guy like Trenton down. “So, after leaving Ms. Rolfe’s, you went straight home?” “Yes.” “Is it usual for you to wait until all hours of the morning?” Chewing on the end of his pen, he waited. “When you’re given a hundred dollar tip, yeah, it’s worth waiting.” With a curled knuckle, the young man rubbed an eye, and squinted. “So, Ms. Rolfe gave you a hundred and Mr. Savino gave you fifty? Damn, I’m in the wrong business,” he said, grinning. “What time did you get home?” “About five-thirty or so.” “Anyone there to collaborate this?” “No. I live alone.” Aiden knew this fact, but he was fishing—for anything. He changed tactics. “Was this a usual thing? I mean, when you’re assigned to drive Ms. Rolfe, do you always have to wait outside her penthouse like that at night?” He looked up, blinking several times before turning back to his notes. The young man stared down at his feet and fidgeted before answering. “Maybe once a month … if she has, you know, company. I also drive Ms Rolfe to ballets, fundraisers, and things like that, too. And for the record, Mr. Addler doesn’t assign her to me. She asks for me.” Sebastian’s caustic tone stayed Aiden’s hand for a moment. If I didn’t know better, I’d say this kid’s in love with Daniella. No wonder I’m getting these vibes from him. He smirked, hiding his mouth behind a feigned cough. Hell, who could blame him? “You like Ms. Rolfe?” A long pause followed before Sebastian whispered a hesitant ‘yes’. The reluctance in his answer rang clear. Poor kid. He’s got it bad. “Mr. Addler gave me your schedule, and it turns out that you were also the driver for Chase Williams, Sam Zeller and Randolph Vandermann. Is that correct?” Lifting his head, he thought he saw something unusual flash across Sebastian’s dark eyes, but it was gone too fast to distinguish what it was. “I wasn’t their driver, Detective Blackmore. I worked for Ms. Rolfe. She asked that I drive them home.” Sebastian paled even more when he asked, “Is … is Ms. Rolfe in trouble?” Aiden’s forehead creased as he frowned. “No. Why would you ask that?” Something about this kid creeped him out. Sure, he seemed polite and cooperative, but there was something about him he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Jealousy? He ignored the question in order to end this interview as quickly as possible. He’d left Daniella alone long enough. “What about the others? Did you drop them off, or take them straight home?” “I dropped them off at the addresses they gave me.” “Is there a record kept here … I mean, the drop-off addresses?” The kid stiffened against the back of the chair. “Yes. Mr. Addler has my time sheets.” The young man’s voice quivered with indignant ire. “I’m not accusing you of anything Mr. LaMarre, so calm yourself,” he soothed. “We have to get the facts straight, and every avenue is explored, and investigated. Understand?” “Are you close to catching this guy?”

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

60

Aiden folded up his notebook and rose to his feet, feeling satisfied with the information Sebastian gave him. “Thanks for your time, Mr. LaMarre.” The kid stood, too, his flaxen locks hanging in his eyes. “That’s it?” “Yes. We’re done. If I need clarification on anything, I’ll be in touch. Good night, Mr. LaMarre.” When he got to the office door, he stopped, and by some instinct, he shifted around. Sebastian stood with his hands grasped together, staring off into space, looking like a lost sheep. “Is something wrong, Mr. LaMarre?” “Will you … please, give my best to Ms. Rolfe, and tell her that no matter what, I’ll still drive for her, okay?” The hint of desperation in his voice touched Aiden. Damn, he’s got it real bad. “I sure will, Sebastian,” he said, offering a small smile. “Thank you for your time.” He stopped long enough to thank Mr. Addler for the use of his office and left the building, drawing up the collar of his coat as damp air swirled around him. Though the rains had stopped, a bone-chilling nip had settled in the air, hinting at snow, and the fine mist blowing out from between his lips proved a good indication. Walking toward the car, he saw Daniella jump out, her face contorted with rage, and fear. “He’s here. Get in the car, Aiden! Get in the damn car!” she screamed.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

61

Chapter Thirteen: Impasse It took a moment to register the dire alarm before Aiden dashed toward the car, hearing the urgency in her scream, ‘he’s here’ and nothing else. Worse yet, she got out of the vehicle. “Daniella, get back into the car!” His heart raced up to the center of his throat when he saw her standing out in the open by the passenger door. He had no idea what she meant, but the air around him felt charged with shocks of electricity, and not in a good way. She crouched out of view, but her voice carried to him, laced thick with anger and dread. “He’s here. I can sense him, Aiden. Just get in the car. I can’t protect you if you’re out in the open!” “Are you out of your mind? You’re out in the open. Get in the fuckin’ car!” he screamed at her. Drawing his gun, he stopped several feet short of the vehicle, staring around as frantically as she had done. The shrill insistence in her voice chilled him more than the cold outside. He gritted his teeth. Unaware of what frightened him, just that something did, he crouched, creeping toward the front bumper. “Daniella, get the fuck in the car already!” he forced out between clenched teeth. Between trying to find out what the hell was happening and what she blathered on about, he edged his way closer to her side, trying to reason with her. “Daniella. If you get in the car, I’ll get in the car, too, agreed?” “You don’t understand, Aiden. You can’t fight something like him,” she growled back. With a feline pounce, she moved in front of him. Pressing her hand against the center of his chest, she urged him backward. When she got to the driver’s door, she shoved him into the car. He flew back, his body splayed across the seat. In that instant of time, he watched her raven hair shifting like a shadowy veil around her head. Through its murkiness, he caught a glimpse of long, gleaming white teeth, and lips pulled back into a vicious grimace. “Get the hell out of here,” she said. “He’ll come after me. Now go!” She moved to step away, but he lunged for her, grabbing her arm. “Either we go and get him together, or we both get into this damn car and leave.” His skin prickled, as if death watched him, possibly from behind a sniper gun. She looked down at his hand and faltered. Cocking her head to the side, she listened to something he couldn’t hear. In a blink of an eye, her hair changed back to normal. “He’s gone! Fuck!” she yelled, yanking herself from his grip. Throwing her arms up in frustration, the look she gave him could have melted stone. Anger in her voice vibrated through the air with such malice, he stumbled back. Quickly regaining his balance, he kept his gun drawn and got out the car. He again grasped her arm, and this time she didn’t resist. Dragging her toward the passenger door, he pushed her through it and slammed it shut. His eyes continually searched the surrounding gloom as he raced to the driver’s side. The chain-link fence surrounding the parking lot gleamed in the muted light of the night. At the back of the building, a grassy knoll and a barren field stood out like an inky smudge under the overcast skies. They were in the open for any possible attack. He jumped in the driver’s seat and gunned the engine, his tires sliding across the wet cement as he backed out. He kept his foot pressed hard on the gas pedal. Through the lights of

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

62

the office, he caught a glimpse of Sebastian’s blond hair passing through Mr. Addler’s office door, seemingly unaware of the danger outside. The car fishtailed onto the street, but he gained control. He realized he gasped on adrenaline, and a fine sheen of sweat oozed along his hairline, creating rivulets to run down the back of his neck. Sneaking a glance in Daniella's direction, he saw that she sat rigid and silent, which irked the hell right out him. “I told you to stay in the damn car—with the doors locked. What part of that didn’t you understand? And just what the hell was that cockamamie plan?” Brushing a strand of hair away from the corner of her mouth, she pursed her lips in that reproachable manner he was beginning to recognize so well. “He was out there, Aiden. He’s learned to cloak himself so well that I can’t detect him. Me! But he lowered his guard for just a second and .…. Damn it! I could have found him if you weren’t so stubborn.” “I’m stubborn!” he roared, gazing in the rearview mirror every few seconds, his knuckles whitening on the steering wheel. “If I remember correctly, I’m the one with the gun. Shit, Daniella.” Running a hand through his damp hair, he snapped his mouth closed. Silence fell between them as he replayed the scene in his mind. The image of her teeth, and the way her hair became an ebon shadow floating around her head like mystic ghosts remained etched in his mind. He didn't understand what just happened, but he would find out. “We need to talk.” Her terse tone cut through his angst like a searing knife. “Yes, we do,” he said, gnashing his teeth and refusing to say more. Pulling up the police light from under his seat, he pressed his foot down on the gas pedal, ignoring every posted speed limit. **** Daniella seethed, and worried, in silence beside him. Why didn’t he just listen to me? Hades and brimstone, he’s so damn stubborn. How do I rationally explain this? she worried, focusing on the buildings that rushed by them. I have no choice but to tell him what I am, or he’s going to get himself killed. The thought caused a pit of ice to form in her gut. Although she sensed no one followed, she refused to lower the protective barriers she'd placed around them, but this vamp was clever. He dropped his shield by accident—I’m sure of it. Or was it just a way to lure me out and away from the car to get to Aiden? The stench of familiar blood and ageless dust still filled her senses, proving to her that he was a creature of the night like her, but something more twisted, and evil. His reckless and unabashed skill stunned her. Aiden wasn’t safe if this creature could sneak up on them like that. Why wouldn’t he just listen to me? I could have at least tried to track the bastard. From the corner of her eye, she watched the detective as he stole glances into the rearview mirror more times than necessary. Tendrils of his anger and frustration flowed through the car like a brewing storm, feeling almost as raw and thick as her own. His worry over me is placing him such danger. He risks his own life for my safety. I can't allow this happen. I won't be held responsible for his death. What choice do I have but to tell him? The thought of Aiden dying because of her squirmed like ravenous maggots inside her. He means more to me than I thought. When they returned to her suite, he walked straight to the bar. With harried, fumbling arm jerks, he threw off his overcoat, still enmeshed with his blazer, over the Queen Anne chair. Helping himself to a tall glass, he filled it to the rim with scotch. She watched him as he sucked back half the contents in several deep draughts. “So, it’s your turn now?”

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

63

“What?” He looked up, surprised that she spoke, and narrowed his eyes into dangerous, glassy slits. “It’s your turn to get drunk and pass out?” She approached the bar and grabbed a smaller glass from below, pouring herself a healthy shot of the amber liquid before moving to the couch. “Just what kind of shit was that? I told you to stay in the damn car,” he yelled. Daniella had managed to compose herself on the car ride back. Obviously, Aiden hadn’t. She sensed tightly wound coils of hostility sparking inside him. “Slow your heartbeat down, or you’ll end up having a heart attack.” His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak. Instead, he took another long swallow from his glass, bracing one hand on the bar and grimacing. Between clenched teeth he asked, “What happened out there?” “The killer made an brief appearance, Aiden, but I don't think he knew I was there. He shields himself within a surreptitious shadow, and for some reason, while I was sitting in that car, I felt it falter and drop away. For just a moment, I could smell the death on him. I could smell Manvera’s blood. He’s like me, but there’s something wrong. He’s twisted somehow.” “What the hell do you mean, ‘he’s like me’?" “It’s a rather long and convoluted story, I’m afraid," she said, no louder than a whisper, "and something … I must share, for a variety of reasons, but I’ll expect nothing but openmindedness from you.” “You expect?” He sneered. The shrillness in his voice made her cringe. This might not be such a good idea. “What kind of mind do you think I have? Enlighten me, if you please.” He stumbled to the couch and fell into the leather seat. Slamming his glass on the coffee table, he turned toward her, waiting. She watched his hands ball up into white-knuckled fists. “Aiden," she began in an insipid tone, "your mind is human.” Placing her own drink on the table, she missed the stunned expression on his face. Unzipping her boots, she threw them across the floor and curled her feet beneath her, settling more comfortably into the couch. “Human? What the fuck … are you an alien for Christ sakes?” His mouth turned up into an even bigger cynical sneer. She stopped. Only the Talbots knew what she was, and in seven centuries, she’d shared what she knew about herself with only one other vampire. She spoke slow, and calm. “No. Nothing as Sci-Fi as that, Aiden. I’m more like a—a fairytale of sorts, only darker.” He leaned back, calmness settling over his features. “Yeah. You’re a fairytale all right,” he mumbled, reaching for his drink and taking another large gulp before pushing it away. Hearing the slowing of his heartbeat, Daniella sensed undercurrents of weak control wrapping around him. Good, she thought, interlacing her fingers together. He’s calming down. She stared at her hands for a long moment before beginning. “Your books depict what I am in a rather unrealistic manner and the information is derived from tales, but this is no fairytale, Aiden. I didn't lie when I said I can protect you.” One of his eyebrows quirked upward, but he remained thankfully quiet. “I’m unique in this world. There is only one of my kind, though there are many of my kin.” “Kin?” He leaned forward, puzzled and uneasy.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

64

“Yes, offspring, whatever you want to call it.” She gave a dismissive wave of her hand and continued. “I am something else compared to them. Something far older, ancient … they are what your movie moguls and authors call—vampires.” Aiden’s eyes bored into her. “Vampires? Bloodsuckers of the night … like Dracula?” he scoffed. “The neck wounds? Don’t you think they look like teeth marks?” His hesitation was difficult to miss. “Well, yes, but realistically, no, unless it’s an animal ….” “You humans always try to find a logical answer to explain things you don't understand. Even when the evidence points to one thing, you manage to devise some analytical explanation to push aside the real cause. You're so afraid to believe in something you don’t understand." She paused. "What I’m about to share with you will send that reality out of the door … and I’m telling you because … because I fear for your life. In order to keep you safe, I must tell you who and what I am, and what is hunting these people. It's not your typical serial killer, but something else entirely, and you're hopeless to stop him on your own.” “Gees, cryptic and scary, all rolled into one. What we need now is some scary organ music to play in the background and this would be perfect,” he retorted, rolling his eyes. His flippant attitude pissed her off, but she pushed it aside, her thoughts focusing on how to tell him in the most logical, human way possible exactly what she was. It proved a daunting task as she’d never done this before. Rising from the couch, she paced, her mind working through details, praying he’d understand. “Vampires exist, Aiden. They're as real as you ... and I.” “Really,” he drawled, his eyes glittering with cynical amusement. Daniella transferred so quickly, her body movements appeared nothing more than wispy trails that outlined her speed. In a heartbeat, she stood in front of him. Startled, Aiden drew back against the couch. “H-h-how did you do that?” he asked, his child-like eyes darting a few yards to the right where she’d been pacing seconds before. Now that she had his full attention, she willed herself to the bar, maneuvering her preternatural body with her dark gifts. One moment she stood in front of him and the next, she flanked the fish tank. His jaw dropped open, and he blinked several times, stunned. To strike home her point even more, she suddenly appeared beside him on the couch, her feet neatly tucked beneath her. He moved to stand, and tottered, falling back against the couch. “That’s … how …? That’s some neat trick, Daniella. You're quite the illusionist.” His pallid skin glistened with sweat, but his eyes remained like round saucers, wide and disbelieving. She tasted his fear and shock as if it were her own, and she swallowed with difficulty. “It’s no trick, Aiden. I can move faster than your eyes can see. Human storytellers write about my kind somewhat accurately, although myths and legends have deteriorated several important facts. Vampires are very real. They hunt to survive, and they feed off blood—human blood. In these modern times, however, they try and bring as little attention to themselves as possible, so if they kill, they're very meticulous about cleaning up after themselves, or at least some of them," she muttered under her breath. "We've learned to adapt through the years, and we know the danger you pose to us.” “W-w-we pose to you?” he stammered.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

65

“Humans have their share of cold-blooded killers, and it's no different with my kin. Only these creatures feed, and then kill at will, leaving corpses behind, but it's a small group, and I pay them little heed, unless they venture too close to me. I abhor any vampire that does so, and those that are stupid enough to come into my territory to feed and slaughter for obscene pleasure … I destroy.” Scratching his head, his laden sigh quivered deep and loud. “You destroy … your territory? Jesus, Daniella, you're just talking crazy nonsense. Have you been drinking that absinthe again?” Fear and loathing shadowed his scowl. She sensed that some part of him believed her, but the timbre in his voice gave her pause, and she wondered whether she should continue. She noticed the nervous tremors in his hands, the stiffness running along his back and shoulders as his eyes continued to dart furtively around the room. Am I doing the right thing? she worried. I could always erase his memory if things go from bad to worse, as I do during my blood cycle. It was a hopeful thought, but one she didn’t want to entertain. Aiden’s mind felt like a sacred shrine, an area off limits to her. To do so, for her, would be akin to raping him. Although that’s a sweet notion, I do this to save his life! Forging ahead, Daniella placed her uncertainty aside, and began her story before losing her nerve.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

66

Chapter Fourteen: Annotation Aiden leaned back, willing himself to relax. With considerable effort, he grooved his spine into the seat cushion as Daniella started her tale. His usual pessimism raged, but he couldn’t forget the images of gleaming teeth and the slithering veils of midnight-black floating around her skull like wraiths. Her voice took on a hushed seductive cadence and, coupled with her unique accent, it drifted through the air like music. “I am the last of The First, a blood drinker from the moment I emerged from my mother’s womb. For seven centuries, I’ve lived alongside you ….” A half-hearted laugh burst out of his mouth before he could stop it. Choking the rest back, he managed to force out a hoarse, “You’ve got to be joking!” “Please, allow me the courtesy of finishing, Aiden. I’ll take questions, and your ridicule, after.” He snapped his mouth closed, feeling the sting of the truthfulness behind her statement. No use looking like I'm catching flies either, he grumbled to himself. “Like a chameleon, I change my identity from century to century, so no one is the wiser. I continue to be the granddaughter of a Rolfe, my family name," she continued. “The Talbots help me by ensuring documentation is changed, and everything looks real and legal. Now, the vampire, my kin, walk amongst you, as well, though they know enough to leave my city, and me, alone. “Your city?” Her disapproving glare silenced him again. “Your written myths were right in that vampires are made by the transference of their blood with a human, but ….” She paused, a dark shadow crossing over her face. “Vampires aren’t prone to sharing their blood, for it only brings more competition over fodder. They’re self-righteous loners by nature, preferring their own company for centuries on end, until loneliness makes them destroy themselves, or ….” She suddenly fell quiet. “Or?” he asked, no louder than a timid whisper. “Or when they find a companion deemed worthy in their eyes to spend eternity with.” She turned away. “Vampires have been around since before I was born. How and why they came into existence is unknown to me. I-I suspect that there is a ‘father’ of sorts ….” She faltered and scratched her forehead. With a determined shake of her head, she continued. “I’ve strayed off topic here. Vamps are found any place where food is plentiful. It’s not uncommon to have two or three residing in one city, though hunting boundaries are strictly enforced. Should one breach this unspoken rule and hunt upon another’s claim, or begin leaving unexplained corpses, others of their kin will seek out and destroy him or her. They’re very protective about their domiciles, and food. When age becomes a concern ….” “Age?” What the hell would that have to do with anything? he wondered. “I’ll get to that later,” she said, turning back to face him, her features folded in sadness. “Most vampires feed without the necessity of killing, taking only what’s needed before setting their victims free, unscathed. Well, perhaps a tad anemic, but they remember nothing of the experience,” she hastily added. “We possess certain … gifts, like magic, to help facilitate this.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

67

Aiden saw a glimpse of remorse flash across her face, though it was fleeting and almost innocuous. “Well, that’s reassuring,” he jeered. “I can well imagine that remembering someone gnawing on your neck and sucking you dry would have some devastating effects. Intensive therapy comes to mind.” The scathing scowl she gave him snapped his mouth shut again. Holy shit! She actually believes all this! Wait a minute, you do, too! he thought, shaking his head. “Like your rungs of society, vampires have their share of what you would deem a criminal. These degenerates kill when they feed without taciturn methods of secrecy.” What category does she fit in I wonder? “A vampire is hunting these people, Aiden, and in my name, and now yours. He’s trying to show me something, maybe his prowess, power—I don’t know.” She sighed. “There are many who know about me, but they stay away out of fear.” “Know you? Um, just so I understand where you’re coming from, when you say vampire, I’m assuming here that you’re … you’re one of them, right?” “Yes, and no, Aiden. The blood that fills my veins is something far older. My body structure differs from the other immortals. Vampires create other vampires. They’re coldblooded and they need to feed more regularly than I do. The main difference here is that I was born a vampire.” “In what way? I mean … in what way are you different?” Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he found Daniella’s tale too intriguing. It could have been the way she told it, or the honesty he felt layered within her words. He couldn’t tell, but damn, it was one of the best he’d heard in a long time. “My blood is warmer, although it is still cooler than an human’s.” Both his brows rose in unison. Holding out her arm, she said, “Take a hold of my hand. No, better yet ….” She unbuttoned her sleeve and pushed up her blouse to the elbow. “Touch my skin.” He caught his breath as the delicate translucency of her flesh drew his eyes. He raised his hand, brushing his fingers lightly over her skin, hearing only the pounding of his heart in his ears. Straighten out, Aiden. This isn't like the dream, he warned. Through the tips of his fingers, he felt the slight chill of her skin and his thoughts turned to when he’d carried her to the bedroom hours before. Questions swirled through his mind as he flinched back his hand, almost as if she’d burned him. Looking into her eyes, the sadness he saw in them ripped through his heart. He leaned a little closer, realizing the ageless quality contained in her unique beauty. The truth of her story settled around him. “Jesus, this is real, isn’t it?” he whispered, dropping his hand like a marionette. Hanging her head, her raven hair fell forward, obscuring her face. He forced his legs to work. Rising from the couch, he began pacing in front of the fireplace. He thought of the victims and the way they were killed. He recalled the bitter chill of dread when he came out to the car and saw her standing in the open. Something had been out there with her. Then, there was Daniella herself, and he remembered what he’d seen in that split second of time out in the parking lot. He stopped and faced her, clenching his jaw. “Tonight, I saw something. It was your hair, moving like ... like shadows around your head, and I thought I saw ….” “You saw correctly, Aiden.” With a tilt of her chin, she stared back in cold defiance. “I can wield the dark gifts, and like a changeling, I can will myself to take certain forms. Hiding in either the dark of night, or the light of day is not a problem for me. As I showed you earlier, I

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

68

can also move in inhuman ways. All vampires share these abilities to some extent. Some are more powerful than others, depending on age and experience. Thus, the older the vamp the stronger the dark gifts. He felt the blood drain from his face. “You said you were … were seven centuries old?” For some reason, every ounce of spit left his mouth. “That would make you …. How can this be?” he choked out between a sandpaper tongue and the parched roof of his mouth. “It just is, Aiden,” she said, heaving out another forlorn sigh. “Everything I’ve told you is true, and just let me clarify here that I’ve told no one this other than a few Talbots that I felt should know—like Manvera. Yes, I was born in Scotland, and yes, I believe my father was Egyptian. My mother gave birth to a bastard child, but she refused to tell me anything about my father, even when I begged her. I was almost twelve years old when she died, and I’ve spent all that time alone ever since. My mother devoted her life to protecting me from others that would have killed me outright if they knew what I was. In all the years of my existence, Aiden, I’ve never found another like me. Kin, yes, but nothing like me. After much research, however, I’ve come to understand that my father may have been ….” She stopped. “I can’t believe I’m telling you.” Tilting her head back, she stared up the ceiling, as if seeking some kind of answer in the pot lights above her head. When she closed her eyes, Aiden saw a slight shudder run across her shoulders. When she opened them, a glistening layer of pink tears filled the rims of her eyes, threatening to slide down her smooth cheeks. I should be appalled, or at least disturbed by someone crying blood, but I can’t help wanting to hold her and take this misery away. Shit! I hate seeing women cry in any fashion, he moaned to himself. She’s been alone all this time? His thoughts turned to Manvera. Her one and only real friend in this world, and now she’s gone. The thought made his stomach clench. “Please, don’t cry, Daniella.” With wooden steps, he moved back to the couch and sat on the edge of the seat. With a loud sniff, she composed herself, wiping at her eyes before the tears could fall and stain her cheeks. “About a century passed before I ventured to Egypt to find out what I could about my father. In an underground burial site, I located an ancient hieroglyphic stone. It mentioned an illegitimate son of Sekhmet, which none knew about. The history I managed to glean from it goes something like this. One day, Ra, the Sun God, became angry with his unfaithful worshipers, so he sent down his anger in the form of Sekhmet, the Eye of Ra, also known as the goddess, Hathor. Sekhmet fulfilled the Sun God’s order, massacring the unfaithful by drinking their blood, but something went horribly wrong. Sekhmet developed a thirst for it and soon she began killing Ra’s faithfuls, as well. Her vicious rampage frightened Ra, who only wanted to punish these people, not destroy them, but there was no stopping her. In a desperate attempt, Ra devised a plan. After every massacre, Sekhmet held a feast for herself in celebration of the kills. Ra proceeded to dye all the liquor red in order to make her believe she consumed blood instead of alcohol. Becoming inebriated, she passed out. When she woke, Ra persuaded her to stop her massacre, which she did, becoming the benevolent goddess Hathor once more.” “Holy shit! I know this story, Daniella. Egyptian mythology fascinated me in high school.” “Then this will be something you don’t know,” she said, offering him a tight smile. “No one does because the stone tablet is safely hidden in one of my bank’s deposit boxes.” He leaned forward, eager to hear more.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

69

“The hieroglyphics revealed that she gave birth to a semi-human son, a demigod, born with the penchant for blood. Ra, unfortunately, had no knowledge of this when he changed Sekhmet back to her original form of Hathor. In the process, he erased her memory lest the horror over what she’d done would destroy her. Sekhmet’s son fell through the cracks of mythology, and there’s nothing more written about him … except this ancient slab of rock. He blinked several times, digesting the information. “So, what you’re saying is that Hathor … I mean, Sekhmet’s son is your father?” “Yes, I think that,” she said, no louder than a whisper. He bedded my mother and I … I am a product of that copulation. He didn’t know what to say to that. Pinching his temples between his fingers, he sorted through Daniella’s story. She sat still and quiet, rubbing the tips of her fingers with her thumbs, as if waiting for an onslaught of his questions. Well, let’s not disappoint her, shall we? “So, you’re a vampire of The First,” he said, making every effort to voice the statement as normally as possible. She nodded. Aiden worked hard to form his next question. “Is this killer a First, too?” “No,” she said, baring her vampiric teeth. Gasping in horror, she pursed her lips shut. “Sorry,” she mumbled, staring down at her lap. He recoiled, but his curiosity got the better of him. “Your teeth, um, you can grow and shorten them at will?” Her eyes widened as she nodded again. “Show me.” For a moment, he swore he’d heard that phrase before, and realized too late that those were the exact words she’d said to him in his dream. ‘Show me. Show me how much you want me.’ He felt the heat blossom in his face, and his heart began that strange dance inside his chest. Fascinated, he watched as Daniella’s canines broke over her bottom lip, sharp and deadly. In a blink of an eye, they disappeared back into her mouth. His gaze lingered on the fullness of her lips that seemed to highlight the pale hue of her skin. They looked like ripe strawberries. “Will I have to do parlor tricks all night?” “Excuse me?” He shook his head, feeling a little lightheaded. “I’m sorry, Daniella. This is quite a bit of … I don’t know, something to digest,” he said, brushing back a lock of hair. “Do you believe me?” He heard no anger, scorn, or animosity in her voice. It was a plain question, simply put, and he could see she waited in anxious silence for an answer. “Can I ask a few more questions?” “Will it make you believe me more?” she asked as a delicate eyebrow arced. “Maybe. It’s a lot of, you know, mumbo jumbo and … hell! I don’t know,” he finally blurted out. Feeling muddled, he grabbed his glass and headed to the bar to get himself another. “Aiden?” He turned and saw her holding out her own toward him. “Sure,” he said, taking the glass from her before moving toward the bar and pouring them fresh drinks. He observed her profile, the sad way she held her head, and her hands grasped on her lap. He rather liked this submissive side of her. Then the memory of her voice echoed in his mind. ‘Show me. Show me how much you want me.’ He felt his cock jump and a delightful shiver ran down his spine. Not now, Aiden ol’ boy. Just tackle one thing at a time here. He turned and noticed a small fridge on the floor, built right into the wall behind the bar. He opened the door and retrieved several ice cubes,

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

70

wishing he could slide a few of them down his pants for a couple of seconds. The extra minute gave him an opportunity to walk out from behind the bar without sporting a woody. He handed her the glass. “Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” Sitting down, he sipped at his drink this time. “Do you know who’s doing these killings?” he asked at last. “No, but he’s definitely a vamp. Our species can shield themselves from others at a distance. If they get too close to another of their kin, an inner alarm rings, warning them of the danger—of another hunter in the proximity. That’s why I was shocked to feel him there tonight.” “What do you mean?” It was like he wasn’t there, and poof, his shield dropped for just a few seconds, but it would have been enough for me to pick up his scent and follow.” Feigning a smile, she raised the glass to her lips and took a sip. “I thought vampires can’t eat or drink anything but blood?” He watched her slender throat swallow, wondering what his lips would taste if he placed them on that exact spot. “Vampires cannot. I can, however. My body structure, as I said, is different. They can’t walk under the sun either whereas ….” “You can,” he finished. “Yes. I’m more human than they are, but I do have an Achilles heel.” Pursing her lips, she turned away, looking embarrassed, though no blush marred her flawless skin. He held his breath, waiting for another axe to fall. “Like a human woman who bleeds monthly, I, too, have a similar affliction. Instead of expelling blood, I must take in blood once a month.” “You feed?” he asked, the revulsion readily evident in his tone. Goddamn, Aiden, she’s a vampire. Why are you surprised? “Yes,” she snapped, “but it’s not what you think. It’s for this reason those victims were here in the first place. I feed during the act of love, so I give pleasure instead of pain. They don’t know what I do, and they leave here quite satisfied.” An angry gleam shone in her eyes. “Yeah, but a few pints short, right?” he retaliated sarcastically. Daniella stiffened. “Well, Detective Blackmore, whatever happened to Chester Mogget?” “Chester Mogget?” Aiden felt his testicles tighten at the name she'd just uttered.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

71

Chapter Fifteen: Disclosure At the mention of Mogget's name, Daniella watched the color drain from Aiden’s face. “Yes,” she said, smiling shrewdly. “I thought you would remember Chester Mogget. His murders headlined almost every major newspaper in the country. For almost a year that twisted pedophile preyed on little boys. Chester liked them young and pure, didn’t he?” “How do you know that?” He looked ill, and she couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for him, but she needed to tell him her part in this. He has to know. “A custodian found Chester in the basement of E.H. Burns Elementary school, standing over a sweet six year old boy. It proved unfortunate that Chester wasn’t able to claim his prize possession, or the outcome of his trial would surely have been different. Do you remember what he took from his victims, Aiden?” She fought down the abhorrence that came every time she thought of this odious human. Nodding, he whispered, “He took a testicle.” “Yes, he did,” she added with a feral growl. “When they finally brought Chester to trial, his attorney relied on the ‘wrong place, wrong time’ defense. He told the court that his client happened to come across the body in the basement, but why was that monster there in the first place? The police never found his ‘collection’ did they? As the trial continued, the evidence against him grew slimmer. All they had was the custodian’s version of events, until Chester’s lawyer blew that out of the water. He proved to the jury that the janitor was nothing more than a drunkard and, in fact, tried to point the finger at him as the killer, and not Chester. In the end, the jurors couldn’t prove without reasonable doubt that Mogget had indeed killed the child, or any of the others. Yes, the scalpel found on him was strong evidence, but Chester told the court he had been mugged several months before, and carried it for self-defense. Wouldn’t you know? There was even a police report to that effect. When they tested the blade, it came back clean— no traces of blood. The prosecutors' case collapsed.” “The trial wasn’t open to the public, Daniella. How do you know all this?” “I know a great deal, Aiden. They threw the case out of court, and Chester Mogget walked out a free man.” She paused, biting her lower lip as a wave revulsion flowed over her. “A human like that has no business in this world. I waited a few months and made my way to New York to hunt the bastard down.” Aiden stared at her like she’d just grown another head. “I trailed him to a children’s park halfway across the city. He was on his way to select his next victim, but I found him first. When I fed upon him, I saw through his eyes Aiden. I saw the evil contained deep in his soul. I tasted his foulness, and knew without a doubt that if he wasn’t stopped, he would continue to kill.” “So, where’s Chester now?” Aiden’s voice cracked. “Ashes to ash, dust to dust. When I kill, I incinerate them from the inside out. Nothing is found, not even their bones.” She sneered before turning away. Knowing how this sounded, she couldn't help but wonder. He'll think me a monster now, but he has to know. “What happens if your victims are innocent?” he murmured, trying to hide his fear.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

72

Daniella easily recognized the glassy look. She’d seen it enough times in the eyes of her victims. Licking her lips, she continued, “When I taste their blood, their souls become enmeshed with mine, and I see things that they don’t even know exists inside them. Chester sighed in relief when I took his life. I knew deep down he wanted his madness to end. I gave him that reprieve. I never kill the innocent,” she declared. Lifting her chin, she dared him to refute her. Grabbing for his glass, he took a long swallow. “Our killer is worse, Aiden. He’s the same evil as Chester, but ten times more deadly because he’s a vampire. He’s stronger than any human. He can cloak himself and change appearances. He can stalk, unseen, but only at night, so that's our advantage. Without my help, he’ll continue to kill until—I find and destroy him.” She leaned back, startled by the crooked grin creasing over his face. “Should I ask what happened to the burglars who ransacked your penthouse?” “What you don’t know won’t hurt you, right?” she answered, dropping her gaze. His chuckle grated on her. She’d just shared one of her deepest, darkest secrets, and he only laughed. “What’s so damn funny?” she asked with an indignant sniff. “Well, I should be appalled, even disgusted, but I’m not and I ….” “You believe me,” she whispered, though it was difficult to keep the awe from her voice. His attention drifted to the flashes of neon colors swimming in the fish tank. “I often wondered what happened to Mogget. After he disappeared, well, I thought some vigilante got their hands on him. I guess, in a way, someone did, didn’t they?” He gave her a sidelong glance with a quirk of a brow. “I’m no vigilante, Aiden. And if he were innocent, I would have known from tasting his foul blood. One vampire could serve as an entire jury, and I promise you, there wouldn't be any mistrials, or innocent people doing time for crimes they didn't commit. A victim’s blood reveals their soul with just one taste.” She tossed back her head, still feeling the sting of Aiden’s chuckle. “I’ll have you know that I don’t go hunting every criminal that the courts set free. Chester’s case was as heinous as they come, because he preyed upon children, the most innocent of us all. To me, that’s a human who deserves no place in this world. Now we have a vampire preying on innocents here, and this angers me just as much as Chester Mogget did. With Manvera’s death, he’s made it personal. He’ll receive my vengeance … and more.” She saw Aiden shiver and knew her words vibrated with the lethal promise. “Remind me never to piss you off,” he mumbled, feigning a weak smile. “Look, I have to call Barlow and tell him about my interview with LaMarre.” “What will you tell him?” She waited, wary and nervous. His brows furrowed and all amusement vanished. “Well, certainly not about our parking lot incident. I think that’s something we’ll keep between ourselves. I … well … let me come to terms with it first. I mean, vampires are a little hard to digest. Now that I’ve seen … knowing you ….” He stopped, running a hand through his hair again. She watched a crimson flush start at the base of his neck. “You know more about me than anyone, Aiden. Even the Talbots,” she murmured softly. “I co-exist because I must. If more of you know who and what I am …. Let’s not go there, okay?” He nodded, turning toward the blinds. “Are we safe from him here?” “We’re safer here than any place in the world. Strong wards ….” “Wards?”

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

73

That innocent, boyish charm is just so genuine, she thought. “Magic wards surround my penthouse,” she explained. “He can’t venture close to this building without me being aware. I know that he watches from a safe distance, but because he can shield himself so well, even from me, we’ll have to wait until he makes a mistake—or I draw him out. He must have watched, and waited, when those men … my friends left here.” “By mistake, you mean he’s going to kill again?” Aiden’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Yes,” she sighed, “but there’s no one that I’m close to anymore—except you.” Veering away from his scrutinizing stare, she hoped her face didn’t reveal what those words meant to her. “I see.” He hummed. “What about the Talbots?” “Connor Talbot is the head of the family and lives in England. In fact, there’s a family member in almost every major city of the world. Connor is in his late seventies, but as spry as ever. He’ll be assigning a new family member to look after my business, and I must warn him of the danger.” What happens now … I mean, what will they do?” Daniella took a sip of her drink, placing it next to Aiden’s on the coffee table. “There’s always one Talbot waiting in the wings who will be informed of … of me.” Tears filled her eyes, and she brushed them away with a curled knuckle. “I must tell Connor that he’s to send no one until this matter is finished. By now, the family knows what’s happened to Manvera … and I have to tell him the truth about how she died. Until we find this killer, Aiden, I refuse to have contact with anyone, lest I put them in danger.” Just the thought of that vampire harming Aiden brought forth a fury she hadn’t felt since Chester. “Do you know how much danger you’re in?” she whispered, hating the frightened quiver in her voice. He nodded again, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “Yep, but for some reason, I feel pretty safe around you—especially now.” As she studied at him, he looked back, unflinching. His tone held no mockery or flippancy. She saw his trust and a strange flush of warmth flowed through her body. For a moment, she felt drawn into the depths of his eyes and, with difficulty, she turned away. “Thank you, Aiden. By the way,” she said, a coy smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I know this is a little off topic but, you really do need a haircut.” The sound of his deep-chested laughter warmed her tepid body even more. “I know, but I guess I’ll have to strike that luxury off my agenda for a while.” “Well, if you’ll trust me, I’m pretty good with a pair scissors. I could give you a trim, if … if you wish.” She stopped herself. By the gods, am I complete moron? I just offered to cut his hair! The warm flush turned into a roaring wave in her ears. “Well, Daniella, I think I’m going to take you up on that offer. I don’t need my hair falling into my eyes at inopportune moments, right? Just let me give Barlow a call and then we’ll play hairdresser, okay?” The boyish grin she caught from the corner of her eye made her giggle. She couldn’t remember if she’d ever giggled before. Trying to rein in the tumult of emotions rushing through her, she rose from the couch and moved toward her bedroom. She stopped at the entrance of the hallway and turned. “T-t-thank you, Aiden. For believing me. You will keep this secret?” The answer, she saw, was clearly evident on his face. “Well, it’s kind of hard not to, especially since you did all those parlor tricks for me. I’m holding you to your promise, though.” He stood, looking as embarrassed as she felt.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

74

“What promise?” “That you’ll protect me.” Without another word, he turned and headed in the opposite direction toward his room. Daniella closed the door to her bedroom and leaned against it, shutting her eyes for just a moment. That’s a promise I intend to keep, Aiden. On my life, I will protect you, she vowed. Even with Manvera’s death hanging over her head, she couldn’t remember when she’d felt this happy and content. Picking up the telephone, she waited for the connection of a long distance operator. In minutes, she heard the tinny voice of Connor Talbot’s voice-mail. As it was almost four in the morning in England, she left a detailed message about what had happened to Manvera, asking him to send her instructions about funeral arrangements. She used cryptic codes known only to him and Manvera, telling him that it was a vampire who was responsible for her death, and that she was in the process of hunting the killer down. She begged him not to contact her, fearing all the Talbots’ safety. Connor would heed her message. What choice did he have? **** When Aiden got to his bedroom, he plopped himself down on the edge of the bed, holding his head in his hands. His mind went over everything Daniella told him, and his brain worked through the information like an overloaded circuit board. A vampire? he thought, squeezing his temples between his fingers. If I didn’t see it with my own two eyes, I never would have believed it. Shit, I wish I could have been a fly on the wall to see her do Mogget. That dirtbag got what he deserved. He hesitated, realizing what he’d just thought. “Wait a minute here. She’s a fucking vampire!” he mumbled. Reaching for his cell on his belt, he pressed Barlow’s speed dial number. Thankfully, he was gone for the day and Aiden left a message about his interview with LaMarre. He conveniently left out what had happened in the parking lot and added that he’d follow up on some more leads tomorrow and would contact him then. Flipping the phone closed, he fell back across the bed, staring up at the ceiling, his thoughts returning to Daniella. She’s never told anyone about this? he mused, feeling a little honored, but frightened all the same. Well, who would be stupid enough to believe it? Groaning, he pulled himself off the bed, brushing the hair away from his eyes. I’m that stupid, that's who! Now I’m going to trust her with scissors? The thought brought a queasy sense to wash over him. Hell, I’m trusting her with my life. Hair seems a little inconsequential, doesn’t it? The effects of the scotch made the room tilt a little and he wondered whether the maids had left anything for dinner. At the rate I’m going, I’ll pass out and wake up with a mohawk. Suddenly, last night’s dream glided through his mind with alarming clarity, and he found himself grinning. Maybe tonight, Daniella will make a repeat performance. The thought widened his grin into a rueful smile. He stretched up on his toes, hearing several bones crack in his back. As he headed back out into the living room, he couldn’t help but wonder what her hands would feel like. With effort, he fought the sudden tingling surge of electricity that pulsated through him, but nothing stopped the hardening of his dick. He promptly turned back into the bedroom. “I’ll just sit here for a moment longer,” he grumbled.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

75

Chapter Sixteen: Whet Daniella changed into track pants and a matching royal blue hoodie. As she walked by the mirror, she stopped, studying her reflection. Another myth shattered, she mused. Vampires do have reflections. The lycra material hugged the ample swell of her buttocks, and the hoodie revealed just a tad more of her breasts than she thought reasonable. Pursing her lips, she pulled the zipper up a few more inches. Even if I want to ravage his body inside and out, let’s have a little class, Daniella. Never forget your staunchest rule, she scolded herself. As she headed into the living room, she heard the low hum of Aiden’s voice and realized he was still on the phone with Captain Barlow. She strolled into the kitchen and retrieved a pair scissors from a drawer. Pushing one of three stainless steel stools encircling a black granite island, she positioned the back-less chair in the center of the room so she could maneuver herself around it while cutting his hair. She glanced at a plate of freshly cut fruit covered in plastic wrap. Beside it, a larger tray contained an assortment of imported Italian cold cuts and an array of breads. He’s probably hungry, she thought, placing the plates closer to the edge. The absinthe hangover had faded a while ago, but the container of blood she kept at the back of the fridge called to her. He might think it’s only tomato juice, but what if he wants a glass himself? The thought of disgusting Aiden any more than she had banished the craving. Perching on the stool, she balanced the blades in her hand, wondering what was taking him so long. She closed her eyes and realized the daunting silence filtering through the penthouse, but the sound of his heart sounded strong and mesmerizing. A few more minutes passed before she made her way back out into the living room. “Aiden?” “Just a minute.” “I’ll be in the kitchen,” she called back. She stopped at the linen closet beside the stove and grabbed the largest tea towel she could find. As she settled herself back onto the stool, the timbre of his voice moved around her in the quiet. His heartbeat, now so familiar and soothing, resonated like a comforting beacon. No man has ever affected me like this before, she thought. In seven centuries, she’d never found true love, and although she had no idea what it was like to truly care for someone other than a Talbot, the emotions that flared so unpredictably in her just felt right, albeit confusing. Looking down, she noticed a slight tremble in her hands and with effort, she willed herself to calm down. What humans called ‘butterflies' erupted in the base of her stomach, and she hoped he didn’t notice how nervous she was. Everything about him touches me in some way, she thought, mystified by it all. Suddenly, the dream came to the forefront of her mind with astounding explicitness. Nothing had ever felt so erotic than submitting herself to him, and this again was something she’d never done. She’d always been the aggressor, a huntress fortifying her blood cycle needs, and nothing more. The turning of the tables here was confounding to say the least. When Aiden walked into the kitchen, she managed to maintain control, but just barely. Snippets of the dream flittered in and out of her thoughts, but she firmly pushed them aside. “Are you ready?” she asked. Her sheepish grin caused his eyes to twinkle in a devilish manner.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

76

“You’re holding the weapon.” He chuckled, looking nervous, but also intrigued. “Where do you want me?” In my arms, she thought wistfully. Giving herself a stern shake, she rose from the stool. “Right here. This way I can move … move around you.” She realized her voice was nothing more than a breathless whisper. “Right here,” she said more soundly. The slight tremor in her hands began again. “Your wish is my command.” He walked over to the stool and sat down, grasping his hands in front of him. Daniella moved closer, wrapping the towel around his neck, being careful to keep her distance. Her fingers brushed against the heat of his skin, and she flinched, hating the coldness of her touch. He sat rigid and ill at ease, his eyes downcast. “I’ll just take off a quarter of an inch all around. You won’t even notice that it’s gone,” she murmured. “No problem.” With a timid reach, she moved the scissors toward his hair and paused, drawing back her hand. Trying to give herself more time, she asked him, “Are you sure about this?” He twisted his neck around, giving her a delicious view of his throat, and a vein, which pulsed with scrumptious temptation. “I trust you explicitly,” he said. He offered no smile, nor did she see any mirth in his eyes. The seriousness in his expression halted her, and she felt her hand begin to tremble even more. She moved around to his back so he couldn’t see her. Using her fingers, she grasped a large tendril of his hair lying against the nape of his neck, marveling at the softness between her fingers. The sound of the scissors’ snips echoed in the silence between them. “You’ve done this often?” he asked, staring forward. “I’ve had many years of practice,” she said. “There was a time when hair was cut using nothing more than a knife.” He took a deep breath, and she watched the muscles in his back expand and contract through the thinness of his shirt. “You must have seen things in your time …. I mean, through the changes of times.” By the Gods, he sounds as nervous as I feel, she thought, surprised and oddly relieved. Taking a moment to answer, she moved to his left side, careful to stay out of eye contact. “I’ve seen many changes take place, some good and, well, some not so good.” “What do you mean?” He turned to look at her, but she stepped further back. “Sit still, or I may cut off an ear,” she murmured, a ghost of a smile curling her lips. “The human race is a strange thing to understand. I find that today’s violence is more reprehensible than in days gone by. Technology, of course, plays a big part, with the invention of guns, bombs and computers. Life felt simpler when disputes were decided at the end of a blade, or hand-to-hand. Today people kill for nothing more than a set of car keys, or worse yet, like Chester Mogget, for the thrill.” “But vampires ….” He faltered and his back stiffened. “Vampires do so to survive, and as I said before, there is little need to kill. I’ve lived by a code of my own honor ….” “A code of honor?” There was no denying the shock in his tone. He made a move to face her, but she placed her hands on either side of his head, holding him still. Flattening his hair against both of his ears to ensure the ends she'd just trimmed looked straight and even, she explained. “When my mother died, I learned to survive on my own. I was

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

77

a mere child, not knowing the vampiric ways of subsistence. I had no mentors to learn from … to show me right from wrong, so I held true to what my mother taught me in our short time together. I fed on animals for many years, before moving up the food chain, and I knew that killing in order for me to survive was wrong. Life is precious, even for an immortal.” The sadness of these memories swelled inside her, and when he turned around to face her, she was unprepared. Her hands hovered in front of his shocked face. “You must have had friends … husbands?” She lowered her arms to her sides, staring down at the gleaming black and white linoleum floor. “I had someone special, once, for several years, but he loved his music more. I believe I did, too. It is by my own volition, Aiden, that I don't involve myself with the human race. I feed to survive, and nothing more. I’m an anomaly to your world and my survival depends on it staying that way.” “Shit, Daniella. Weren’t you lonely? I mean, seven centuries is a helluva long time to be on your own.” She looked up, stunned by the relentless fist that suddenly clenched around her heart. His expression held shock and such sadness that its intensity caused her to stumble back. He reached out and grabbed her hand. The scissors slipped from her fingers, clattering to the floor, though it sounded like a dull echo in her ears. She felt nothing, sensed nothing but the warmth of his hand against her flesh. He pulled her closer and she found herself unable to resist. She floundered in the seaweed depths of his eyes. With her other hand, she pushed aside a tendril of hair hanging over his forehead. She could only watch, mesmerized, as he brought up her hand and placed it against his cheek. Her knees buckled at the fire she felt beneath her fingertips. “You don’t have to be alone anymore,” he whispered, pulling her closer between his open legs. She tried to resist. This can’t happen, she screamed to herself, yet her body refused to obey. Standing in front of him at eye level, she felt numb to everything around them. His cologne wafted around her like an aphrodisiac fog, clouding all of her fine honed reflexes. She watched, fascinated, as he slid her hand toward his mouth, the softness of his lips kissing each fingertip. With every touch, impetuous flames burst inside her, and although she felt her arousal dampen the clef between her legs, it was far more intimate than that. Reining herself in, she struggled with herself, pulling her body out of his grasp. “This can’t happen, Aiden. I can’t … will not .…” He didn't allow her to finish. Standing to his feet, he towered over her, refusing to let go of her hand. She continued to step backward until the kitchen wall met her spine. She had nowhere to escape. Even her dark powers couldn’t help her now as she stared into his eyes. Aiden didn't recoil at the coolness of her touch, so unlike Vivaldi so many centuries before. He took her other hand and spread her arms against the wall, leaning closer. His lips brushed lightly across her own, and she heard his quick intake of breath. A smoldering fire intensified to a need that burst forward, so intense and moral, she forgot everything but his face. His eyes bored into her, never once straying from her face, and he again brushed his lips against hers, so seductive and teasing. “I won’t stop, Daniella,” he whispered hoarsely. “I can’t stop … please don’t make me.” He pressed himself more firmly against her body and she sensed his coursing need growing even stronger than her own. Her body felt alive, mimicking the dream in every detail. Her lungs filled with air, her flesh hot and feverish. For one lucid moment, she allowed herself

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

78

to wallow in the sensations detonating inside her, but years of careful habits slithered through, shattering the illusion that ensnared her. She saw his look of shock when she used her inhuman strength to lower her arms and push him away. Turning her face to the wall, she wanted to cry out as the heat of his body vanished, leaving her feeling cold once more “This … this can’t happen, Aiden,” she stammered. “I can’t … I won’t allow it to happen.” She choked back a sob and ran from the kitchen. When she was safely behind the door of her dark bedroom, only then did she realize what Aiden meant to her. I’ve fallen in love with a human! she cried to herself. I’ve never faltered in this staunch rule before and now … I can’t even think straight. An immortal cannot fall in love with a mortal. The pain …. To lose him .… It would end my life to bear such sorrow. Crimson tears flowed down her cheeks like trails of sinuous red ribbons. She brushed them away with the heel of her hand. Grabbing the remote off the bed, she opened the blinds, hugging the metal gadget against her chest like a shield. She couldn’t sense the killer, but she knew he watched, somewhere, somehow. “You have caused me more pain than I have endured in all my centuries,” she whispered aloud. “When I find you, there will be no mercy!” “Perhaps it’s time you allowed yourself some happiness.” Flabbergasted at hearing the sound of his voice, she whirled around to see Aiden silhouetted at the entrance of her opened bedroom door. His presence obliterated everything in her mind. He moved toward her with determined strides. When his arms embraced her, she made an effort to escape, but this time, he used all his strength. When his lips crushed down upon hers, she knew she could not, and would not, fight him any longer.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

79

Chapter Seventeen: Consecration Aiden held her fast and when she finally yielded in his arms, he couldn't believe how succulent she tasted. Her lips were like fine, aged wine, her skin the softest of rose petals. His tongue meandered over her lips, savoring the flavor. She opened her mouth willingly, and he delved inside like a man dying of thirst. Her tongue danced with his, teasing, arousing him to the core. He had no idea how they landed on the bed. All he knew was that she lay pinned beneath him. Inside, a fire raged like an out of control inferno. He was amazed at the way her hair splayed out like black waves against the white duvet. “Damn, you’re beautiful,” he murmured. She moved to pull away and he hesitated. Fuck! I'm forcing myself on her, he thought, shocked by the brashness of his actions. Wait a minute. She could break me like a twig if she wanted. He stared deep into her eyes—eyes so like his, and what he saw in them made his heart race faster. “The risk you take ….” Daniella didn’t finish. She tried to turn her head, but he placed his fingers under her chin, forcing her to look at him. “I would rather die in your arms than not be here at all, Daniella,” he said, surprised by the vehemence in his voice. He’d never felt so overwhelmed before, nor did he care. Every sense and fiber of his being told him this was right. He silenced her feeble protests with his mouth. When he came up for air, he saw that she held two silk scarves. His brows rose up. “Tie me to the bedposts,” she whispered, though there was no denying the command in her tone. “I won’t lose control. It's just ... I submit to you, Aiden, and I’ve never submitted myself to anyone … ever.” No woman had said such a thing to him before, but then, Daniella was no ordinary woman. An image of her tied up kindled a surge of arousal so intense he would have done anything to please her. Rising on his knees, he took the scarves from her grasp and wound them around her wrists, knotting both of them to the tapered corners of each bedpost. Without breaking eye contact, he saw a slight flush flare across her pale cheeks. Her lips parted and her teeth lengthened and contracted. Somewhat surprised, he found that this didn't scare him in the least. She lay beneath him, subservient and looking so luscious. He pushed her legs apart with his knees and bent forward, devouring the mouth he’d coveted for so long, caring not for her vampiric teeth. Her spicy perfume, so exotic and hot, filled his senses. Breaking the kiss, he leaned back, pulling the zipper of her hoodie down, meticulous and slow. She closed her eyes. Every revealed inch of her pristine flesh hardened his cock to the point where he almost cried out in pain. He had to remove his pants, and soon, but first, he needed to see her body, naked and wet, wanting him as much as he yearned for her. He realized too late that with her hands tied, he couldn’t remove her top, but he was past the point of caring. Pushing aside the material little by little, he tantalized himself as well as her, teasing the fabric over the tautness of her nipples until both breasts were naked. He stared at her, awed that her body replicated his dream in every minute detail. He bent over her, hungrily sucking a dark nipple into his mouth. As he danced his tongue over the tip, it hardened even more. He bit down, and she answered with a seductive moan, arching her back off the bed.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

80

Moving to the other nipple, he continued the same pattern, nipping and swirling his tongue, wishing he could devour her whole. Her low-pitched whimpers of pleasure quickened his arousal to a dangerous level. He leaned back again, easing his fingers beneath the elastic band of her track pants, sliding them down over creamy thighs with urgent tugs and pulls. She wore no underwear and when he found the sliver of trimmed hair and shaved lips waiting for him, he almost fell from the bed. She's exactly how I envisioned her, he thought, pushing aside the rising ache of his bulging cock against the confining zipper of his pants. His hands moved to her breasts, and he pressed them together, causing her to moan again. He trailed kisses down the center of her chest, kissing and suckling the flesh before stopping at her tiny navel. His tongue encircled it a few times before fluttering inside, giving her a tease of the real thing yet to come. Her body tasted like her lips, decadent and sweet. In response, she lifted her hips upward, and he felt her pussy skimming across the hairs on his chest. His tongue traveled lower, and he nuzzled his nose in the fine strip of hair that led down to the glistening slit between her legs. He was thankful he’d tied her hands because he knew that at this point, one touch from her would have sent him careening off the edge. His excitement mounted as his tongue swirled over Daniella's mound, moving slowly to her nether region. He found her dripping wet, and his cock jumped inside his constricting pants. As he slipped his tongue along the left fold of her lips, he felt her begin to quiver. Careful to avoid her clit, he worked his way to the other side, licking with gentle bites. He could feel the tip of his moistened cock straining inside his trousers as he positioned himself more comfortably on the bed. Lost in the throes of his titillation, her head swayed from side to side. Seeing how excited she was took him another step closer to the edge. With effort, he closed his eyes and concentrated on her, ignoring his own rising desires. Sliding a finger slowly inside her, he marveled at the slippery walls that contracted and grasped him, urging him forward. Her fevered, whispered ‘yes’ coaxed him on. He wanted to drown in her nectar. His tongue encircled her opening, and he slipped it inside, moving both his mouth and finger in perfect time, increasing in tempo. Her scream vibrated through the room when she came against his mouth, convulsing repeatedly. It was like she kissed him back. She heaved upward, her orgasm violent and long. He removed his dripping finger and tongue, giving her a moment of reprieve. “I’m not done yet,” he whispered, kissing her glistening lips. “I want to hear that scream again and again.” She answered with another deep-throated ‘yes’. Her limbs trembled beneath him, causing shivers of pleasure to wash through him. He licked and tasted her wetness, wallowing in its musky sweetness, but careful to stay away from her protruding bud. The subsiding tremors of her first orgasm goaded him on. As he continued his teasing, she gasped, “By the dark gods, Aiden, untie me.” “Not just yet, Daniella,” he murmured against her, nibbling the flesh right above her clit. She moved her hips up, trying to defy him, but he grabbed her thighs, holding her firmly in place. “Your turn will come, but right now, I want you to watch me, Daniella. Watch me make you cum,” he said, blowing on her swollen bud. He shut his eyes, feeling the heat of her gaze searing through him. His tongue darted out, passing fleetingly over the engorged clit. He repeated his teasing, each time harder and faster. Pussy juice dampened the sheets beneath her, but he wanted more. With every flick of his tongue, her moans grew louder and soon, he had to hold down her legs to stop her thrashing. He

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

81

glided his mouth lower, caressing the sensitive skin between her love tunnel and ass. All the while, her cries grew more urgent. His mouth and chin grew slick, but he still wanted more. She had submitted herself to him, and he didn't want to disappoint. He moved back to her clit and this time, he brought it in his mouth, sucking it between his teeth and at the same time, sliding his tongue in tiny circles over the hood. When she came, the force of her orgasm almost threw him from the bed. Stunned, he looked up and realized that she’d snapped off both bedposts, the shattered pieces of wood still hanging from the scarves wrapped around her arms. She shuddered like a leaf caught in a windstorm, unaware of what she’d done. When she opened her eyes, a lusty growl burst forth from the back of her throat. With one tug, she ripped the silk scarves off and moved toward him. He felt the sharpness of her fangs scrape over the skin of his mouth as she kissed him with fervid passion. She moved so fast that the next thing he knew, his arms hung above his head, neatly tied to the broken posts. “It’s my turn now, Aiden,” she said, her dulcet voice full of hidden promise. That coy smile of hers made his heart pound faster. Daniella continued to ride the overwhelming convulsions deep within her. Never had she cum with such severity before, and every muscle and nerve in her body quivered with shocking tingles that repeatedly exploded inside her like mini-orgasms. She ripped off his shirt, ignoring his shocked expression and moved down to his pants, wanting him completely naked. She ached to feel him inside her, filling her, and the memory of this pain felt as raw, and real as in her dream. The button on his trousers flew across the room, and without bothering to use the zipper, she ripped them and his undershorts open as if the cloth was mere paper. Feeling his stare upon her, she looked up, and hesitated. “Aiden,” she murmured. “I won’t hurt you. I promise ….” “It’s not that,” he said, offering her a meek half-smile. “It’s just that I don’t have any other clothes to wear.” “I don’t think you’ll be needing them anytime soon,” she replied, her husky tone promising him of things yet to come. She marveled at his nakedness. He’s exactly like my dream. Right down to that huge, gorgeous cock. Slipping a hand under the pillow by Aiden’s head, she drew out another scarf. This one she tied around his eyes, remembering his penchant for it. He struggled for just a moment, but relaxed as her breasts rubbed against the hairs on his chest. “Do you trust me?” she whispered against his ear. He nodded, turning his head to give her a view of his delectable neck. Her eyes widened, and the slickness between her legs now ran along the inside of her thighs. Leaning over his right side, she placed her lips against his mouth, tasting her cum on his face. With feathery kisses, she teased him, darting her tongue into his mouth before drawing back. She moved to his neck, her vampiric teeth halting over that delicious, pulsating vein. Oh, just to taste him. Her mouth watered at the thought, but she had other ways to do so. His muscles strained against the ties when she curled her fingers in his chest hair and pinched his nipples. She suckled one into her mouth, biting hard, tantalizing him further. This time, groans of pleasure erupted from him, and she heard him whisper, ‘Daniella’ over and over again. Her other hand moved lower, and the closer she got, his dick began to twitch. Semen glistened on its swollen head, and she fought the urge to swallow him whole. Using a fingernail,

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

82

she traced the outside skin surrounding his shaft, yet never fully touching him. The muscles in his legs contracted, and the rapid beating of his heart roared like ocean waves in her ears. She positioned herself between his legs, pushing them apart as he’d done to her. Starting at his nipples, she raked her nails down the length of his chest, hard enough to raise goosebumps over his skin. A low, feral moan escaped his lips. Her hair fell forward, draping over his swollen cock, making him gasp for air. “D-Daniella,” he whimpered. She reveled in the power when hearing such a tone of submission coming from him. “Shhh.” Her voice quivered over his swollen. In response, he moaned louder. Beginning at the base of his cock, she ran her tongue up along the solid shaft until she reached the sensitive crease of his hood. She stopped, slowly trailing back down. She sucked one ball into her mouth, and then other, feeling them harden even more. Wrapping her hand around the thickness, she pulled down and pressed his dick against both of his balls, hearing a sharp intake of breath. He’s nearing the cusp, she thought, sliding a hand between her own legs. She shivered as she made contact with her sensitive clit, feeling her own arousal flaring to new heights. She brought the head of his cock close to her face, and using her own juices, she ran a sodden finger over the top, hearing him whimper ‘Jesus’ as she licked him at the same time, alternating between light strokes and incessant lapping of her tongue. She again slid her hand between her legs, moistening her fingers even more. This time, she placed them under his balls, gently rubbing the skin that connected his scrotum and backside, zigzagging back and forth until he panted in pleasure. “Let me taste you, Aiden. Just a small taste,” she begged. He shivered and groaned as a thin stream of cum shot out, trickling down the side of his shaft. She ran her tongue up and over his head, tasting the hot salt leaking from his rigid dick. She knew he could not hold out much longer, and neither could she. “I want you to cum like I did,” she murmured, beginning to rapidly flick her tongue back and forth over the tender crease of his head, tasting more of him as he moved closer to orgasm. She felt him harden like granite, and she knew he was now ready. Wrapping her hand around the base of cock, she pressed her thumb down and squeezed. At the same time, she used her other hand and pulled firmly on his balls. He gave a choked cry as a dollop of cum shot over her face, but nothing more. She lapped at it like a cat at a saucer of milk. “Goddamn, Daniella! What the….,” he stuttered. “Fuck ….” She silenced him, taking him deep into her mouth and down her throat. Sliding her fingers between her cleft, she massaged her clit in frenzied circles. He gasped for air as she continued to propel her mouth up and down, using her canines to glide along his skin. This time she would allow him a full release. He emitted a strangled sob and arched his back as he shot violently into her mouth. She, in turn, exploded once more, moaning against his cock, the vibrations of her mouth heightening his orgasm even more. She felt his intense pumping through the hand holding his shaft and balls, and she massaged each spasm, milking him dry. After she swallowed, she caressed his cock between her breasts, running the glistening head over each of her hard nipples. She sighed in pleasure as more cum trickled out, dampening her skin. Brushing her tongue lightly over the delicate head, she waited until he grew still. The sound of his labored breathing filled the silence that followed. Sidling to his right side, she removed the scarf around his eyes. In awe, he stared up at her and she smiled, knowing what he was going to say. “Women aren’t the only ones capable of having multiple orgasms, Aiden.” “How the fuck did you do that?” he whispered. “I’ve never felt anything like it before.”

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

83

A thin sheen of sweat glistened over his face and body, and she pushed aside several strands of hair sticking to his forehead. Embarrassed, she turned away before answering. “A long time ago, I trained in the Yoshiwara Yukwaku pleasure district in Japan. My mentor was the infamous Geisha, Kikuyota. As I said before—I’ve learned a lot these past centuries.” When she looked at him, he lay there, speechless. She leaned over and kissed him, and he, in turn, devoured her mouth. When she pulled away at last, a demure smile widened on her face. “By the way, where did you learn your tricks?” “Untie me and I’ll show you a few more,” he said, flourishing a devilish grin. “As you wish, my Master.” A strange look crossed over his face, but she ignored it. Sliding the scarves off the broken bedposts, Aiden leaned his head back, looking at the damage done to her bed as he rubbed his wrists. He quirked one of his brows. “Does this happened often?” “No,” she said, looking away from the intensity of his stare. “Never. I guess ... I lost control.” He grinned, and lunged for her. “Well, let’s see what more we can do.” Laughing, she fell into his arms, promising herself that this time, she'd feel him deep inside her. “I have no doubt we can manage that,” she murmured, crushing her lips against his, wishing this moment could last for eternity. **** He watched from his special hiding place, perched upon a thick metal girder of a deserted building a little ways across the street. For the first time, the rarely open blinds to Daniella’s bedroom offered him a copious view, revealing to him that what he desired most in his wretched life was now untouchable. He’d seen her take hundreds of men to her bed, himself included. For over a century he’d watched, and waited. This time, however … it was different. This man was different. A raging fury rose inside him. “She’s mine, you disgusting blood-filled, fucking human! She was to be mine.” Beside him, a flock of pigeons rose from the roof, startled by the raw anger resonating in the air. With a wave of his hand, they exploded into nothing more than feathery flames and cinder. The rigid metal girder he leaned against screeched before snapping in two in his iron grasp. With a feral snarl, he turned, racing over rooftops to become nothing more than a deranged shadow of death, all the while muttering his wrath under his breath.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

84

Chapter Eighteen: Onus Daniella lay on her side with her head tucked into the crook of her arm, staring at Aiden who lay beside her. “I’m sorry,” she said, wishing they could spend the entire night ravaging each other. She wanted to feel him inside her, but she’d done too good a job on him. By the time he was ready to go again, vampiric sleep sought to claim her. His boyish grin lit upon his face. “Hey, when you gotta sleep, you gotta sleep, right?” he joked, running his thumb along her slender jaw line. “Vampiric sleep is something I can’t turn off and on. When I feel it coming, there’s not a lot I can do to stop it. Unless the situation or need is so great, only then will something like that override the slumber. I didn’t know how late it was. It’s … it’s different during my blood cycle, though.” She saw him stiffen. “How so?” “I rarely sleep during that period … only when exhausted. It’s the need … my body’s compulsion to replace my blood, and it begins using up my energy at a faster pace. It’s also why ….” She stopped, feeling a heavy blanket of fatigue wash over her. “It’s why it’s so important for me to feed in a timely fashion,” she whispered, forcing her eyes to stay open for just a little longer. “So, I don’t lose control … and find myself in a feeding frenzy. Replace the blood in … a timely … manner,” she said between yawns. He leaned closer, planting a feathery kiss upon her lips. “You’re like a fairytale princess who must be in bed by midnight. No worries, Daniella. Close your eyes and sleep.” Her eyes fluttered for a moment before the blackness engulfed her. **** Aiden watched her sleep, amazed at how beautiful she looked. Her ebony hair, tousled across the pillows, framed her oval face and sculpted cheekbones like a Michelangelo masterpiece. He lay facing her, his head balanced on a pillow and his arm holding her close. It took him a moment to realize exactly what she looked like. She looks peaceful--and dead. “She is dead,” he whispered aloud, shocked but not horrified. Brings a whole new meaning to a dead lay now, doesn’t it? he mused, however she was anything but. He’d had his fair share of women in his life. In fact, perhaps a few too many. Here he was in his early thirties, still not married, or in a real relationship. “I could spend eternity with you, Daniella,” he said, brushing aside a thin strand of dark gold hidden in the tumbled tresses of her hair. Pushing himself up on an elbow, he stared around the room for a clock. It was too dark to see his wristwatch, so he eased his body out from beneath the sheets, careful not to wake her. He stopped at the edge of the bed, remembering what she said. ‘When the sleep comes, nothing will stop it until it releases me.’ It was the reason she had such strong wards around her home, to ensure her safety while she slept. As his bare feet padded silently over the floor and into the living room, the cool air caused goosebumps to rise across his naked body. He glanced at his watch and saw it was shortly after midnight. He turned off the lights in the living room and headed toward his bedroom. Opening the closet, he grabbed another pair of drawstring PJ bottoms and donned them, stopping long enough to grab his cell phone.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

85

When he made his way back out to the living room, he stubbed his toe in the process. After uttering a few choice swear words under his breath at his stupidity for turning out all the lights, he hobbled to the couch, and dialed Dixie’s number. Instead of hearing her voice-mail, she picked up the phone. “What do you want?” she snarled, clearly in a foul mood. “That’s a helluva greeting, Dixie,” he said in a hushed tone before realizing that Daniella couldn’t hear a word. “I’ve been working fifteen hour shifts, Aiden, and I’m in no mood for jokes.” “Sorry. This case has us all on edge. Let me guess. They brought you the bodies this afternoon?” He waited, anxious, pulling at the drawstrings on his pants. “Let’s try late afternoon. Why the hell do you think I’m still here at the office?” she retorted. He heard her tempered sigh and knew what was coming next. “Sorry, Aiden. I’d rather be chilling on some exotic dancer’s lap than stuck here with the dead.” Grinning in the dark, he couldn’t resist. “Sometimes, the dead can be better than the living, Dixie ol’ girl.” He chuckled. “Ha, ha, very funny. You should take that act on the road.” She paused. “I’ll confess— these boys have better personalities than the last few dates I’ve had. Look, I know why you’re calling. I managed to examine Williams’ body, but not the other two yet. There’s been some decomposition, and I can tell you without a doubt, Williams has the same anal tearing. I doubt the other two will be any different. This guy is one sick mother, Aiden. I’ve never seen anything like it before.” Her brusque tone gave him the shivers. And you wouldn’t believe just how bizarre, Dixie, he mused. “How’s Ms. Rolfe? She’s one cool cookie, and smart, too. I couldn’t tell whether she was upset, angry …. That woman is hard to read, let alone weirder than hell. By the way, she was right about those coins, too. I tested them and they came back clean.” She hesitated. “Is she handling it okay? Hey, are you still at her place?” He didn’t need to see Dixie to know the sly grin she was sporting. “I’m still here, and wipe that smirk off your face. I’m just following Barlow’s orders.” A low chuckle vibrated against his ear. “Well, Aiden, you’d have to be blind not to see that she’s drop-dead gorgeous. You’d be a fool not to make a move on her.” “Now you’re a matchmaker?” he asked, laughing along with her. “Naw. I just know a strong, smart woman when I see one. And those designer boots of hers were to die for, so she has money. Hey, never look a gift horse in the mouth, my friend.” “Yeah, yeah. Worry about yourself, Dixie.” “I’m doing quite all right, Aiden. Look, I’m surrounded by men dying for me,” she drawled sarcastically. Her laughter that followed was genuine and he knew he’d lifted her spirits somewhat. “So, what happens now?” “There’s nothing we can do until he strikes again. Kinda sad, isn’t it?” “We have a couple of weeks before the thirty day timetable is up.” “Yeah, but Ms Talbot .…”

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

86

Aiden heard the uncertainty in her voice. “I don’t think he’s going to kill before then. He picked Ms. Talbot to make a bolder statement.” “And you know this how?” “Just a gut feeling, Dixie. Call me if you find out anything else, okay?” “Sure. Hey, how did your interrogation of LaMarre go?” “He’s just some kid who has the hots for Dan … Ms. Rolfe. I got nothing,” he replied a little too fast. “Oh, so we’re on first names basis now? Me thinks you’re not telling everything.” "Goodnight, Dixie,” he said, sighing, wanting the conversation to end. “Sure. You get to have all the fun while I’m stuck here in the basement. I see dead people, Aiden.” “Goodnight, Dixie,” he repeated. “’Night, Aiden,” she said, the sound of her pealing laughter cutting off as she disconnected. Silhouetted by the darkness, he sat for a long time, staring at shadows on the blinds caused by the streetlights below. Savino’s face played at the corners of his memory and a flare of jealousy rose like bile. “He was with Daniella that night. They all were, just like I am now.” His thoughts wormed around the murders and the atrocities committed on their bodies. “If that bastard comes for me, I better be dead when .…” He shuddered and left the remainder unsaid. **** At the sound of the front door opening, Horace Dilbert, the elder security guard turned, watching the glass door of the Municipal Building magically open and begin to close on its own accord. By George, those doors are locked! he thought, jumping to his feet and rushing over to the entrance. He heard the faint click of the lock as it closed before he reached it. Tugging on the metal handle a few times, it remained secure. Scratching at his temple, his peripheral vision caught a trail of a misty shadow. When he whirled around, he saw nothing. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered, running a hand over his bald spot. Ambling back to his desk, he plopped down into the leather chair, his eyes roving around the brightly lit, but empty lobby. Outside, headlights of cars zoomed past, fewer now at this hour of night. Shaking his head, he chastised himself for having an overactive imagination. Horace grabbed for his magazine, propped his feet back up on the security desk, and resumed his spot on the page of his favorite auto magazine. **** His shoes made no sound as he strolled across the cement floor of the dank basement of the Municipal Building. The slow, rhythmic heartbeat drew him closer to his quarry. Stopping in front of two stainless steel swinging doors that reminded him of a kitchen entrance in a restaurant, he pushed through them like a cowboy entering a saloon. Three bodies lay on silver metal gurneys on his right, and in the center of the room, hunched over another, he watched the plump woman work. Her rust-colored hair shone with distinctive strawberry blonde highlights under the one harsh fluorescent light that beamed down above her. She worked on a body, unaware of his presence. Patti Dixon stretched her arm up and, from the ceiling, she retracted a hanging Dictaphone. Bringing it close to her mouth, the sound of her bold voice reached his ears. “This is a review of case no. KDOA41230706. Exhumed victim number three, Randolph Vandermann, age twenty-nine, DOA July 23, 2006. Cause of death, multiple wounds and blood loss. Ripped jugular…hmmm.” She paused, leaning over the pallid, naked body lying

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

87

face up on the metal gurney. “Previous swabs done on the neck wound revealed unexplained DNA. Conclusion—contamination. I note severed ulnar arteries in both wrists, though he didn't bleed out from these wounds. These detached ulnars did not cause death. Such arteries quickly retract and narrow when sliced, promoting coagulation, but there’s no clotting here. Blood seems to be manually pulled ….” “I prefer suckled. It sounds much more tantalizing, doesn’t it?” Dixie spun around, startled, hitting her forehead on the small microphone. “How the hell did you get in here?” she hissed out, staring at the doors behind him. In the diminutive light, he relished in the glow of her eyes. “I thought I would drop in and say hello to a few old friends. I hope you don’t mind.” His lips drew back into a vicious grin, revealing his fangs. He closed his eyes, wallowing in the wild beating of her heart that continued to pick up in momentum as her shock turned to fear. “I suggest you get your ass out of here before I call security.” Her voice now quivered with tinges of fright. Pursing his lips as if to blow her a kiss, he strolled toward her, screeching a fingernail across the length of the metal table that held Chase Williams, tsking his tongue as he went. “Now, that's not being very friendly is it, Ms. Dixon? I mean, we’re all acquaintances here.” He watched her swallow and stumble back a step. Her gaze moved to a telephone sitting on a desk in the shadowed corner several feet away. He stopped, enticing her to go for it. The moment she placed her foot in that direction, he flung out his hand. She flew into the air, slamming against a glass cabinet full of autopsy equipment. She crumpled to the floor, panting to catch her breath. When she looked up, astonishment and fury clouded her features. “That’s the spirit.” A low, demonic chuckle jolted through the air. Extending his arm out, he lifted the coroner off the floor, her feet dangling in the air as he floated her over to an empty table by the desk. Her muffled cries filled the room as she tried to fight the invisible bonds around her. “You’ve got a lot of spunk for a chick.” He sneered, pitching her horizontally. As he lowered his arm, she fell to the table onto her back, smacking against the metal. As he stood over her, he brushed away the tears leaking from her terror-filled eyes. “This won’t hurt a bit, doctor, I promise.” He hissed the words, laughing maniacally. His canines lengthened, and the muted scream of Kirkland’s only coroner sliced through the silence amidst the vampire’s delighted chortles. **** An hour later, Denny prepared to close his tavern for the night. “Hey there, buddy. Sorry, but we’re closing,” he called out to the stranger who'd just walked in. Limping past him toward the door where the little leprechaun sign hung, he stopped by the window to stare up at the dark night sky. “Hey, it looks like we’re getting a break from the rain," he added amicably. Sliding the big hand to the twelve on the cartoon clock, the barkeep shifted around, his cop's instincts sending an icy shiver of dread racing down his spine. "Well, Denny ol' boy," whispered the vampire. "You won't be needing an umbrella any time soon." The Irishman stumbled, giving a longing look back at the bar where he kept a loaded forty-five under the counter-top. The last thing he saw was the flash of red fangs illuminated by the neon beer signs that shone above his head.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

88

Chapter Nineteen: Rue Daniella woke, lying in the same position as hours before. She faced Aiden’s penetrating stare, his eyes sparkling in the morning light that escaped through the half-open blinds. He looked amused by something he saw on her face, and when he smiled, warmth radiated through her unnatural skin. She reciprocated with a tentative smile, finding the experience of waking up next to someone a little unsettling, but rather pleasing nonetheless. “Most women usually have to hatch in the morning. I see you don’t have that problem,” he murmured, snuggling closer. The hardness of his body against her naked thigh ignited a series of sultry tingles to race through her body. “I’m not like most women, Aiden,” she said, staring down at his chest. How is it that he can make me feel embarrassed over nothing? His warm fingers trailed across the softness of her shoulder, and she swore she could feel sparks emanating from his touch. He proceeded to push down the duvet with slow, teasing tugs. “That you most certainly are not, Daniella,” he murmured, his lust-filled eyes following the movement of his hand, as if eager to see more. The huskiness in his voice, laced within seductive undertones, sent further shivers to thrill and entice her. He pressed his lips against hers, darting his tongue out, teasing her to respond. The hotness of his breath and the continued dance of his tongue tangling with her own created an unquenchable fire to ignite between her legs. She vowed to have him this time. As she slid her arms around him, he positioned himself over her, balancing his weight on his elbows and watching her expression. She saw something in his eyes—something she’d never seen before, and it made her gasp as if she were alive and breathing. He’s the only man with the power to do this to me, she thought, relishing in the warmth he continually brought to her cool body. His long legs fit perfectly in between hers, and he snuggled closer, their bodies forming together like sculpted pieces of fine art. Moving his mouth down her neck, he nipped at her skin, generating a daunting ache that demanded instant gratification. To feel his teeth puncture my skin at the same time as his cock …. She moaned aloud at the thought. He moved lower to suckle a nipple, but she held his head, forcing him to look up at her. “I want to feel you inside me, Aiden. I want to know what it’s like to be with you completely,” she whispered, refusing to look away. He answered with a throaty groan, moving the swollen head of his dick until it brushed against her eager clit. A small cry escaped from her, and she waited in sodden anticipation as he moved with chary, methodic thrusts of his hips like a well-rehearsed dance. His cock slid gently into her moist canal and stopped. He moved slow, taunting her, pushing himself in bit by bit before pulling out, only to run the glistening head across her engorged bud. Daniella’s mounting need to have all of him inside drove her mad with lust. She rotated her hips, attempting to increase his tempo, wanting more of him and yet he held her back, tormenting and teasing her. She slipped her body further down the sheets, taking more of him inside inch by creeping inch.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

89

Aiden closed his eyes, and threw back his head. As his breathing deepened, she bit her lower lip, nursing the small fount of blood as she felt him half enter her, inciting her desires to levels she’d never experienced before. With a strangled cry, she moved to the side, keeping him firmly locked in place between her legs. She shifted her body on top of his to force him onto his back, and then she straddled him. Now in control, she eased herself all the way down around the thickness of his shaft, feeling every bulging vein of his cock sliding deep inside her. The heat radiating off him felt like a raging inferno. His fingers dug into her thighs as he arched his back, lost in the dripping of her juices. She felt no pain, just the intense urgency of their needs coalescing with each other. She leaned back on her heels and he filled her to the core of her being. When he attempted to move his hips up and down, Daniella held him fast, refusing to ride him. Instead, she contracted her vaginal walls, milking him with the muscles of her pussy. “Good God,” he groaned, his nails digging deeper into her skin. With every tight squeeze of her thighs, she grew wetter, feeling it spill out between their legs. Keeping a steady rhythm, she contracted and released around his cock, and each time, their moans mingled as one. He moved a hand over her mound, his thumb dancing across her aching clit. Every time she applied pressure around his shaft, squeezing him, he rubbed the tip of his finger lightly over her clit, keeping in time with her milking movements. He placed his other hand under her bottom, sliding her up and down with miniature thrusts, his hardness rubbing directly against her G-spot. She felt the build up of pressure, the walls of her pussy tighten, and ache expanded as he grew even larger inside her. “Cum all over me, Daniella … drown me in your juices,” he whispered in fevered pants. “I want to make you cum all over me…. Cum with me, Daniella!” His whispery frenzied litany created swells of euphoric lust that demanded unleashing. “By the gods … yesss, Aiden!” Her body quivered as she rode wave after wave of mounting carnality. His thumb moved faster now, pressing against her clit more urgently, flicking the hood back and forth. “I can’t … I have to cum, Daniella. Ahhh, God .…” His feral growl sounded distant in her ears, and the violent shuddering of his orgasm, and the spasmodic vibrations of his dick deep inside sent her careening off the edge. They exploded together, their juices intermingling, drenching them both. The lingering echoes of their tumultuous cries faded into silence. Daniella fell forward, limp and trembling in every limb. “My God,” Aiden whispered repeatedly in her ear, embracing her, clenching her close to his chest. Daniella nuzzled his neck, wallowing in the warmth of his arms and the lingering scent of his sweet cologne. The thunderous rhythm of his heartbeat roared in her ears like stormy waves crashing upon a shore as he fought to slow his ragged breathing. She could sense the erratic cadence of his heart between her legs as his cock began to soften. Even now, as he returned to his flaccid state, he still filled every inch of her. “Jesus, Daniella,” he moaned against her neck, suckling her skin between his teeth. “Those Kegel contractions ….” She leaned back, her eyes widening in surprise. “Well, Detective Blackmore. You certainly know a few things about women, don’t you?” Flinging back a tendril of hair, she felt a fleeting sting of jealously pass through her. Shaking the emotion away, she eyed him from beneath her lashes, thinking how lucky she was that their worlds had collided.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

90

His face flushed with more color as he grinned back. “You have your tricks, and I have mine.” A mischievous glint lit up his eyes. He wiped a shaky hand across the beaded sweat on his upper lip. “You have more than a few tricks, Aiden. By far, you have pleasured me better than any man has done before.” This time, his eyes rounded, but before he could say anything, the phone in the living room began to ring. In unison, the sudden peal of Aiden’s cell answered it, resonating in tune with the other piercing chime. “And the day begins.” He smirked, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. Scooting his back up against the headboard, he continued to hold her close on his lap, refusing to let her go. Her efforts to move caused a look of utter distaste and stubborn reluctance to crease over his forehead. “I have to answer that, Aiden,” she insisted, squirming her bottom against his legs. “It‘s probably from Connor, and yours … it could be Barlow,” she murmured. Using her preternatural strength, she slid herself off him, his cock making a resounding plop as she pulled away. A deep, poignant loss engulfed her as she did so, but the incessant ringing needed her attention. Suddenly, uneasiness swept over her, like a precognitive warning, leeching all the warmth he’d just given her. Naked, she strolled out into the living room with Aiden following close on her heels. He gave her nipple a playful pinch as she reached for the phone. She paused to admire his backside as he leaned over the couch to retrieve his cell. Holding the receiver against her ear, Daniella listened to Connor’s crisp, British accent filtering through the line, a prerecorded message he’d left so no one could trace either call. Before she could register what the elder Talbot was saying, she heard Aiden call out, fearful and confused. “Anna! Slow down and tell me what’s going on.” She turned, half-listening to Connor as he voiced his agreement about not sending anyone to her right now. In the next instant, she became deaf to everything as she watched Aiden fall to his knees on the floor. His heartbeat slammed into her, strong and timorous, and the healthy glow of his face turned ashen. “Anna, please slow down. You’re not making any sense. I have another calling coming through. Anna! Don’t hang up! What are you talking about? Where’s Denny?” Slithering tendrils of trepidation filtered between them and, without realizing what she did, Daniella hung up the receiver and rushed to Aiden’s side. She knelt beside him, but he appeared oblivious to her presence as he listened to the voice on his cell. “Anna!” he choked out. She could see tears brimming in the corners of his eyes. Without thought, she darted her powers into his mind, and immediately backed away as if lashed by a whip. His undulating emotions hurled into her consciousness and the very force of them made her gasp aloud. The phone dropped from his hands, clattering to the floor to fill the horrid, empty silence that followed. “Aiden?” she whispered, fearful and feeling at a loss over what to do. He didn’t speak for a moment. “Denny,” he cried out. “He got Denny. That motherfucker bastard killed Denny. Ah shit … goddamn shit!” Hanging his head, he began to cry, his shoulders heaving as the loss of his best friend consumed him.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

91

She embraced him, pressing his forehead against her chest, rocking him like a mother with crying child. The wetness of his tears trickled down her naked skin. In the next instant, his phone began its shrill call again. He didn’t move to pick it up, but her sixth sense hinted that something more was about to happen. “Aiden, you have to get that. Please, answer your phone,” she begged softly. Stifling back a sob, he fumbled for it off the floor. He moved out of her grasp and flipped the phone open, wiping a hand over his wet eyes. She could hear the muted voice on the other end, but not the spoken words. A familiar tingle ran through her, and she knew the caller was Barlow. Aiden’s back stiffened, and she sensed an eruption of vicious fury ignite in the air. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he said between clenched teeth, staring vacantly ahead. His knuckles whitened around the phone before he hurled it against the fireplace. Pieces of metal flew in all directions and Daniella moved back, giving him room to vent his anger. “Aiden. Tell me what’s happened?” She spoke firm but low, breaking through his angst. He turned to her, his red-rimmed eyes filled with unbearable loss and pain. “That vampire went on a killing spree last night,” he managed to say in between long gasps. His bottom lip trembled and she longed to kiss his sorrow away. “He … he killed Denny, my best friend, Daniella … and … and, Dixie. He killed her in the basement of the Municipal Building—right beside police headquarters,” he whispered in a voice raw with emotion. His palpable anguish scored through every cell of her body. Hanging his head once more, he sobbed, clenching his arms around his naked chest, rocking on his knees. She didn't know how to comfort him. She understood the guilt he felt, for she harbored the same for Manvera. Turning toward the blinds, she knew the vamp had watched them making love. This was retribution directed straight at him and not her this time. Her mind teemed with the ramifications of such evil vileness. She waited in silence for several minutes before trusting her voice to speak. "Come, Aiden. Let’s get down to the police station and speak with Captain Barlow. If you jump into the shower, we can be ready in a half-hour. Aiden, please. Come on. Please move,” she pleaded, praying she could ease his pain. When he finally looked up, his vacuous stare startled her. She moved back, aghast by the sudden malice and hostility emanating from him. She nodded in silent agreement, flashing her fangs for just a second, an unspoken covenant she made only to him. “We shall destroy him together, Aiden. I promise,” she whispered, drawing him back into the safety of her arms. “He shall pay!” He nodded against her, saying nothing. Her non-beating heart broke with grief, their moment of intimacy shattered forever, becoming nothing but a memory. **** A half an hour later, Aiden sat alone in Barlow’s office, feeling empty and shell-shocked. Daniella offered to stay outside by his desk. The other officers in the squad room reeled from the death of not only Patti Dixon, but also another one of their comrades, Denny Gallagher. A subdued silence filled the second floor squad room, and several heads turned toward Barlow’s office in heartfelt sympathy. Though details of how both his friends had died remained sketchy, he sat before his captain, waiting in numbed silence to hear what the others weren’t privy to.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

92

The captain looked horrid. His complexion bordered on pallid to a sickly hue of green. The deaths of two of his officers affected him as deeply as they did Aiden. “I’m so sorry,” he said at last, his voice cracking with emotion. “How did they die, Captain? Tell me, what was carved into them,” he growled out between locked jaws. The grief in Anna’s voice haunted him still, and he knew nothing would take away the guilt gnawing at his guts. This vicious vampire had made it more than personal now. “We don’t know, Aiden. Not a mark was found on them.” Barlow’s resigned sigh rustled through the stillness of the office. “I have to see them,” he demanded, standing to his feet. “I have another coroner coming in from Franklin County. Let’s just wait ….” “No, Captain. We can’t wait any longer. The more time that passes, this fucked-up maniac is going to begin killing everyone I care about. I need to see them … now! Is Denny here? Has he been brought … brought next door?” He clenched his fists at his side, wishing he could pound them into the wall, pulverizing his frustration and grief into something tangible, and real … something he could physically feel instead of this inner agony gnawing away at him. “Denny and Patti are both next door.” Barlow hung his head, grasping his hands together on the desk. “Didn’t anyone see anything? Have you questioned Horace?” Aiden began to pace, trying to expel the furious energy coursing through him. “As a matter of fact, we have. Horace remembered something strange about last night. It happened shortly after midnight.” He halted and whipped his head around to face Barlow, waiting for him to continue. “Horace said that the front doors of the Municipal Building opened and closed on their own, but no one was there. When he checked on them, he found them locked. He said his eyes were playing tricks on him, but quite frankly ….” He paused, exhaling a shaky breath. “I think Horace should be retiring with Murdock. He’s pretty upset about all of this, as we all are.” Aiden swallowed past the burning lump of bile that had settled in his throat since learning of the news. “I’ll give you a heads up now, Captain. This … this serial killer is going down, and I don’t care how I do it, but I'm going to find that son-of-a-bitch and kill him.” He growled out the threat with heartfelt conviction before turning and leaving the office. He stopped long enough to grab Daniella’s arm before storming out of the building. **** Daniella turned at the exit, sneaking a quick glance over her shoulder at Barlow. What the captain saw caused him to stagger, chilling his blood like ice. Aiden was angry, but Ms. Rolfe’s expression revealed something more bestial and deadlier than death itself. The couple disappeared through the doorway before he could call them back. He trudged into his office to attend to the final burial arrangements of the two officers who’d proudly served the citizens of Kirkland. Strange as it was, he felt somewhat relieved that this Rolfe woman was with Aiden, though he didn’t know why. Shaking the thought from his mind, his picked up the phone to call City Hall.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

93

Chapter Twenty: Ruse An eerie coldness permeated through the basement of the Municipal Building, seeping deep beneath Aiden's bones like loathsome death. He shivered, though it had nothing to do with the frostiness in the air. In stoic repose, he stared down at the two covered bodies stretched out on gurneys in front of him and Daniella. The slight sound of shuffling movements made him cast his eyes toward the swinging metal doors of the entrance. Two uniformed police officers stood on guard, but they gave him little comfort. He knew that the vamp could materialize anywhere, anytime, except during the light of day. He shifted around when he felt Daniella’s light touch upon his arm. “Are you all right?” she asked, her silken voice muted by the thick cement walls that surrounded them. “I don’t think I’ll ever be okay, Daniella. I’ve never felt anything like this .…” He stopped, finding it impossible to explain. As if sensing his despair, she only nodded, and moved closer to where the smaller of the two bodies lay. Her pale, slender hand reached out and removed a chart that hung from a hook on the side of the cold table. “The cause of death is stated as unknown.” He felt the rise of fury and fought the urge to throw up. “Why are these two different?” The quiver in his voice belied the strong disposition he tried to display. He’d never felt such pain before, even when losing his parents. “Well, we’ll soon find out,” she murmured. Taking a hold of the thick, cotton sheet, she flung back the stiff fabric, revealing Patti Dixon. He shuffled closer, staring down at his friend’s colorless face. She looks so peaceful, he thought, fighting back an onslaught of fresh tears. This isn’t time for childish mewling, Aiden, he scolded himself. “No,” Daniella answered. It’s time for vengeance! He faltered, shocked at her voice echoing inside his head. “You … how .…” “I can read people’s thoughts. It’s how I found Chester. With you, however, I just … I’ve never done it because … it felt wrong, but your emotions are raging out of control, and they’re slamming into me as if you’re speaking aloud. I’m … I’m sorry for intruding.” She looked away. “I will teach you how to shield them, so that he’ll never be able to enter your mind at will.” “He … that bastard can enter my fucking mind?” he screamed out. Both officers swung open the doors, but Aiden quickly waved them away. They returned to their posts outside, leaving them alone once more. She lowered her voice. “He’s far older than I initially thought. His powers are strong and this … these atrocities were directed at you. He’s furious with you and … and I think I know why.” Her fingers clenched around the sheet, and he heard the sound of ripping as her nails lengthened, much like her teeth, slicing through the thick fabric with ease.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

94

“What have I done, Daniella? Help me understand this better, ‘cause I feel like I’m drowning. How do I call my brother in Chicago, or my other friends, and tell them to be on the lookout for a killer who might be coming for them … that he rips throats open and feasts on their blood? Jesus Christ, Daniella! I feel like I’m losing my mind.” His strangled cry was no louder than a sniveling whisper, and he despised the sound of it. “Aiden, there’s something I have to tell you. I want you to sit down first.” A pit of ice formed in his gut. “Tell me.” She gently pushed Dixie's head to the side to reveal her neck. “Look, there’s no marks.” She lifted the coroner’s right wrist. “He didn’t feed like he did with the others. When a vampire .…” She stopped, as if collecting her thoughts before beginning again. “Vampires can heal wounds. Some, like me, just destroy the entire body. Others, however, use methods that are more noncommittal. When their victim’s heart stops, and they're declared clinically dead, they can cover the wounds made from their teeth with just a mere drop of their blood. “Like in the movies?” “Yes, but when this is done .…” He could see she was having a difficult time explaining this to him. The pit of ice melted somewhat, only to rush its frigidness through his veins. He knew he wasn’t going like what she was about to tell him. “When a vampires coalesces their blood with a human, they will remove the bite marks so that the newly fledged vamp doesn't walk through eternity with the telltale sign of being a creature of the night stamped on his neck. Aiden, he’s created two more of his kin.” With this statement, his world turned black for a second of time. He didn’t feel her reach out to steady him. Every drop of saliva dried in his mouth, and he found he couldn’t form two words together. “When the sun sets tonight, they will become what he is,” she murmured under her breath. “You mean what you are!” He lashed out without thinking, his words hitting her as if he’d slapped her face. She took several steps back, hanging her head as if in shame. “I’m sorry, Daniella. I’m ….” “It’s okay,” she whispered. “I’ve carried the title for many centuries, but know this. I’m not the monster he is. I would never … ever do such a thing!” She hissed, her eyes flashing with such fury, he staggered back. Guilt flared inside him. “Daniella, I didn’t mean ….” “Yes, you did, but I’m nothing like this vampire, Aiden. To do such a thing goes against everything I respect, everything I believe in.” He raised his hand, kneading the stiff muscles in his neck, and grimaced. “What do we do now? Wait for them to rise from the dead and … and then chop their heads off? Ah, for shit’s sake,” he cried out. “I can’t live through something like that. I just can’t.” Daniella didn’t move. In quiet contemplation, she watched his misery from a safe distance. He knew she still felt the sting of his comment, and wished he could take those words back. Moving toward Denny, she threw back the cloth that covered him. Like a doctor examining a patient, she studied his neck and wrist. Her subdued sigh clenched his heart with misery. He knew it meant Denny’s fate was no different from Dixie’s.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

95

“Unless we destroy them here, in front of those two witnesses,” she said, gazing toward the metal doors, “and then have to explain what the hell we’re doing, my only suggestion is to wait until nightfall. They will seek out their master in order to learn to feed. I can follow them. I have their scents forever stained in my mind. I can find that bastard tonight and put an end to him.” Her whispered plan slithered around him like cold dread. He didn’t want to think about lying in wait for two friends that were clinically dead, only to re-kill them again by his own hand. He gagged at the thought and turned away. His mind worked over another plan that had begun forming when he was in Barlow’s office. Tonight, not only would Daniella walk with death, but he, too, would be walking that same path. “It’s too dangerous!” He looked up, realizing that she'd read his thoughts. “You’re not having any part in this, Aiden.” She was at his side before he could blink. “You can’t fight something like him. I can’t ... I won't have you there to make me worry ….” The abject fright on her face tore at his heart, but his determination to see justice for his two friends overrode everything. “You can’t stop me, Daniella. Look, let’s go back home and talk this out, okay?” He saw her hesitate. “And you can teach me how to shield my thoughts. I want to learn every trick I can.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he pressed his fingers against her lips. “I’ll follow you if I have to. Or I’ll wait here until they wake up and follow them myself. You can’t talk me out of this. He made me a part of this nightmare, and I plan to end it—with or without you.” She searched his face with an ardent stare before offering a resigned nod. Aiden grasped her cold hand within the warmth of his own, and together they left the room of death behind. **** The slight reprieve from the rain was short-lived. Beams of afternoon sunlight that peeked out from behind dark clouds had disappeared, and the realm of night brought forth another torrential downpour. Thankfully, for the time being, it ceased its furious release to nothing but an annoying drizzle. Aiden turned up the collar of his overcoat in hope of preventing chilling rivulets from running down his neck. This will work, Daniella. I know this will work. It has to work! he thought. His head pounded with a relentless migraine from practicing the shielding of his thoughts. It was similar to having a familiar ditty playing repeatedly through his mind, but by using a barrier to hide his true thoughts. She’d bombarded and scolded him whenever she spoke his thoughts out loud until he became so furious, the wall erected itself, and he found himself glowing under her praise. "Raise the wall once,” she said, “and it will always remain in place until you choose to remove it." They’d had a heated discussion over his plan, but in the end, Daniella realized the judicious soundness of his strategy. So here he was, walking the streets, going nowhere in particular, but hoping that the murderer would find him. He feigned a lover’s quarrel in his mind, replaying the fabricated fight between himself and Daniella in order to give more reality to why he was out strolling the streets alone. She had despised his proposed tactics, and in fact, the red sheen of tears that formed in her eyes when she told him, ‘I can’t lose you’, still scored through his heart. He’d never felt such love or want from another woman before. Your soul is mine, Aiden, and if anything happens to you, I’ll destroy myself rather than live without you. When he enfolded her into his

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

96

arms, he felt her tremble against him. She was stronger than any being in this world, and yet, here she shivered in fear for him. He, too, worried over her safety, and although he knew what manner of creature she was, his love for her, he realized, knew no bounds. Danger trailed them both. As he ambled down the street, he tried not to think of Daniella waiting in the shadows of the Municipal Building. He had no idea how Dixie or Denny would escape, and when he asked her, she curled her lips into a repugnant sneer. “They have their ways, Aiden. Their powers may be weak, but they’re creatures of the night now, and as such, they'll find a way back to their master.” He shivered at the thought of Dixie and Denny walking around like zombies out of a movie. He’d been insistent about using himself as bait. His reasoning made sense, even to Daniella, who reluctantly agreed that the vamp would be more concerned over his whereabouts than the two he’d created out of hate and spite. She’d follow the pair to his lair, and afterward, she would meet up with Aiden once she learned the location of the killer’s sanctuary. Then, during the light of day, they would destroy him. The streets of Daniella’s neighborhood stood deserted. In the hour he’d been out walking in the rain, only two cars drove past him. In his opinion, this was as good as any place for a crime to happen. He’d just turned the corner that led toward River Drive when he first felt it. His cop’s instincts flared to life when he spotted a passed out bum lying across the sidewalk a few hundred yards ahead. She had warned him that the killer could create many guises, and although she didn’t know his full potency, she’d cautioned Aiden about this power. Before his eyes, she turned into a child, a cherub of four years old with long, curling locks of golden hair. In the next instance, she reverted to her usual, breathtaking form. How the hell do I fight against something like that? he worried. His hand strayed up to the gun holster strapped across his shoulder, and he found comfort in the cold steel that brushed across his fingertips. He thought of the gift Daniella had given him—a dagger, now tucked in the sock of his left foot. An insidious grin stretched over his lips. ”I found this blade in the tomb of … of my father,” she explained, handing the knife to him hilt first. Aiden stared at the gleaming silver. Encrusted in a sinuous line of blood-red rubies that wound around the metal handle, the gems caught the light like thick drops of plasma. “The metal is pure silver, and it will wound a vampire. Plunge it into his heart, and it can take years for a blood-taker to recover. Slice through their skin, it will create terrible pain. Keep it handy,” she warned. “I thought silver killed only werewolves,” he said, sporting his infamous smirk, but Daniella’s dour expression silenced his ill-timed jocularity. “Silver is a pure metal. Keep it close to you and use it if you can. And werewolves … we won’t go into that now.” The memory of their conversation caused another shiver to race through him. Before Aiden left the penthouse, he'd turned at the door, finding her standing so forlorn in the living room he wanted nothing more than to curl in that bed and make love to her forever. In order to put this horror behind them, they had to do whatever was necessary. Drawing a deep breath within his lungs, he gave her an encouraging smile. “I’ll expect you to keep your promise, Daniella.” When he said those words she ran to him, smothering him in kisses, and whispered promises that she would not lose him. Shaking the reminiscences from his mind, he concentrated on the fallen figure on the sidewalk. The closer he moved forward, the stronger the stench became. Damn, that guy needs

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

97

a bath! Giving the stranger a wide girth, Aiden passed him, sighing in relief under his breath. He took two more steps, and halted, feeling a hand upon his shoulder. She’d warned him about how easy it is to follow a heartbeat, especially one pounding with fear. He tried to slow his breathing as he turned around, coming face to face with the derelict. Pain instantly exploded through his body, and Aiden knew nothing more.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

98

Chapter Twenty One: Contention Daniella leaned over the roof’s ledge, watching police officers come and go at their leisure. The Municipal Building, where she waited, had four officers posted outside the large glass doors. The fools, she reflected. They're guarding the building from intruders entering, when the real monsters are actually inside, right under their very noses. She was listening to the subtle sounds of the night when suddenly, the creaking of a window opening brought her head up. On silent footfalls, she sprinted to the back of the building, peering over the rooftop to the garbage-strewn alley below. From a second story window, she watched Dixie and Denny crawl their way outside, moving with slow, sluggish movements. When their feet hit the cement, they appeared to stumble into one another in a lethargic stupor. From all outward appearances, people will assume they’re drunk, she mused with contempt. The scent of their master caused them to lift their heads up toward the starless evening sky. Although the rain had subsided into fine drizzle, Daniella remained dry, shrouding herself within a protective barrier that let in neither the cold nor rain—or allowed her scent to escape out. The undead pair shuffled down the alley, staring about with newfound eyes and senses they did not know how to control. She fought down a wave of stalwart abhorrence. That bastard! How could he create more of us? When the couple rounded the corner and moved out of sight, she leapt down from the roof, landing as agile as a cat. She followed, anticipation and blood lust coiling inside her like a viper ready to strike. It took over three hours before Denny and Dixie halted in front a large 1930’s brownstone approximately a half-mile from her penthouse. The hair on her neck stood up, and instincts honed from centuries of survival moved to the forefront of her consciousness. The majestic, but decrepit building sported a ‘For Sale’ sign nailed on the front door— another one of Kirkland’s rejuvenation projects that had not seen reconstruction yet. She watched as Aiden’s friends stumbled to the back, vanishing from sight. With stealthy steps, she followed them to the rear entrance of the building, where they disappeared inside. When she reached the top of the cracked cement landing, she halted. The cadence of a familiar heartbeat filled her senses, and her fear mounted. Aiden was inside. With a touch of her mind, the door flew off its rusted hinges. She ran inside, concentrating on the one rhythm that crippled all her other senses. Aiden! The main hallway was narrow. It split at the front door into two sections that led right and left. One side contained a broken staircase leading up into shadows. The other led into what she could only assume was a sitting room. Dust motes glittered in the air, and the smell of decay and rodent droppings assaulted her nose. The vamp would need complete darkness to hide from the light of day. Downward. Though she knew that Denny and Dixie were somewhere inside, she didn’t worry about them, for they were nothing more than mere tools to be discarded. Standing at the back foyer entrance, her eyes sought out a closed door on her right. The pulsing beat of Aiden’s heart moved through her, stronger in that direction. She stepped toward

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

99

the door. Descending the pitch-black stairs into a basement, she stopped, concentrating on the scent that drew her ever forward. Searching through the gloom, she spotted a wooden trap door built into the cement floor. As she opened it, a shrill, creaking sound cut through the silence. He knows I approach, she mused, making her way down rotten, rickety stairs into a dank cellar. Her vampiric eyes had no difficulty making out the occupants. The two fledglings stood like granite sentinels beside a figure seated in a chair. Her gaze roved to the right and her canines lengthened. Aiden hung off the wall from thick metal manacles attached to both his wrists. Riveted with bolts into the stone that made up the cellar, the chains held his arms over his head. He appeared unconscious, but the steady rhythm of his heartbeat told her he was unharmed. She turned back to the vampire that leisurely sat at a small table in the center of room. Illuminated by the faint glow of a solitary candle, he smirked at her. She raised her hands, and pointed her palms at Aiden’s friends, incinerating them into blinding balls of blue-red flames. In seconds, only smoldering piles of ash littered the ground beside the creature of the night that had created them, yet he made no move to hinder her. Frolicking shadows moved across the dirt floor and stone hewn walls. Aiden’s heartbeat resonated through her at a slow, regular pace. She glared toward the image of the man sitting so serene at the table. Blind fury burgeoned inside, and she fought to keep her emotions intact. As she raised an arm toward him, his words halted her spell. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, Daniella,” he drawled, crossing his legs like an aristocratic gentleman. The sonority of his voice resonated like talons rasping across stone. He moved in an elegant fashion, almost with feminine grace … something about it snagged at her memory. “Since when do you care for these blood-filled beings? You demean yourself. It disappoints me so,” he said as arrogant amusement shone through his sable eyes. The shadows created from the meager candle concealed the lower half of his features. “Who are you?” she demanded, lacing her request within her dark gifts. “Your powers don’t work on me, Daniella, and I’m appalled that you would even try. You've wounded me," he said, placing the back of his hand over his forehead to theatrically feign a damsel in distress. He brought his arm down and slammed his fist onto the table. “I thought you would remember something like that,” he added in a cold, dangerous tone. “Show yourself to me! Don’t hide behind that disguise.” He tilted his head, surprised, but intrigued. “You truly don’t remember, do you?” She detected lilting notes of sadness in his response. Crossing her arms, she waited. The vampire stood, and as he walked closer, she sensed the threads of his dark powers surrounding him like a shield. He’s strong…stronger than any I’ve come across. “Are you frightened of me?” Her delicate brow arced in mockery, goading him to make a mistake. He halted his approach as a momentary look of rage passed over his dark features. “No!” he spat out like a spoiled child. Lifting his long chin, he stared down his nose at her. “You’ve changed over the centuries, Daniella. You’ve become more human in your old age.” He jeered in distaste, and revealed his deadly fangs. “But I must say, you are as beautiful .…” As soon as those words left his lips, Daniella’s eyes widened in recognition. “Damien Rainer,” she whispered. The name tasted like putrefied flesh on her tongue. “My, my—you are observant, my love.” “You? You’ve created this carnage? Why? For the love of all the dark gods, why?” As she spoke, she inched closer toward Aiden. She had to get him out of here. “For you, Daniella. This is all for you,” he said, spreading his arms outward.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

100

Memories of their time together filtered through her thoughts. They had once been lovers, but Damien had insisted that she share her blood with him to prove her love, to make him as invulnerable as she was. But even back then, some three and half centuries ago, she’d refused to do such a vile deed. “I did not share my blood with you then, and I will not do so now, Damien. You’ve gone against your own kin, leaving bodies and evidence of your race .… How insane have you become?” She hissed at him. “Our race, Daniella. It’s our race! You always did think so highly of yourself, didn’t you?” he growled, resuming his seat at the table. “And him.” He sniffed in disdain toward Aiden. “I saw the way you looked at him that first day he attended your pent ….” Her eyes widened. “It was afternoon. How cou …?” “It was late afternoon, Daniella. Very late, if you recall correctly. Protective clothing and fifty plus sunscreen does wonders, especially when it’s overcast.” Staring down his nose, he murmured under his breath, “Amongst other things.” His fury swirled around her, thick and suffocating. The meaning behind those whispered words shattered when she heard Aiden’s soft groan. She turned toward the wall, but so did Damien. He raised his hand, lifting the detective off the floor, elevating him higher than the bolted manacles below him until his arms stretched downward at awkward angles. Aiden’s eyelids fluttered before finally opening. Confusion darted over his face until he spotted Daniella. He whirled his head toward Damien, banging his feet against the wall, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. “Are you all right?” she asked him, feeling the swell of her own anger build inside like a whirlwind. She heard a whispered ‘yes’. Maintaining her focus on only Damien, she bellowed, “Release him. Now!” The intonation in her voice caused cracks to run across the surface of the ancient stone that lined the cellar. “Your powers don’t work on me.” His laugh resonated with cruel, maniacal mirth. “When you refused to share your blood … to profess your love to me .... Well, I’ve had centuries to recover from the hurt. I’ve fed from thousands, Daniella, feasting on the eldest of our kind, learning everything I could. To be worthy of you.” She reeled with shock. “You hunted and killed your own kin? For this? Power?” “There you go again … power this and power that.” He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Kill him, Daniella!” Aiden rasped out. “I can’t,” she growled out between her teeth. “He’s shielded, and he’s strong. Stronger than any other vampire who has crossed my path.” “Oh, yes. I’ve learned a great deal of things, my love. You should see how well I can fuck now. Oh,” he stopped, giggling behind his hand. “I think you already know that.” He paused, a shrewd glint lighting up his eyes. “I even learned how to drive.” Before her eyes, Damien changed into a slight, blond-haired man with a sprinkling of freckles over his nose. The sound of Aiden’s gasp filled the stunned silence that followed. “Jesus Christ, Daniella. Do something,” he cried out. Her canines lengthened as she stood face to face with Sebastian LaMarre. “You pay very well, by the way, but all that sex in the backseat .… You should be ashamed of yourself.” Tsking again, he offered her a nonchalant flick of his wrist. “Do you know how many men she’s fucked, Aiden, ol’ boy? And women? Let’s not forget those, Daniella. Thousands upon thousands have fed your little whore. And you think you’re special?”

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

101

He snarled, spitting on the dirt floor and directing his hateful glare toward the detective. "You spoke of her like she was a piece of meat hanging on a hook for inspection." When Aiden's eyes rounded with confusion, Damien emitted a demented chortle that chilled the cellar air even more. "Ah, yes, I heard your conversation with that barkeep. By the way, he was a delectable Irish morsel, if I do say so myself," he added with a sinister curl of his lip. Shaking her head at the vamp’s insane ramblings, she crept closer to the table, formulating a plan. She knew they would do battle. Her greatest fear was what Aiden would think of her afterward, but in order to save his life, she would do whatever was necessary. “You have crossed thresholds of insanity, Damien. For what? For me? That’s ludicrous. Tell me the real reason so I know why you have turned to the blood frenzy.” The vampire resumed his Damien form. Deep angles on his face made more prominent by the wavering flame of the candle proved he remained as handsome as she remembered. His long, ebony hair flowed over his shoulders, so similar to her own long tresses. “For you,” he whispered, looking hurt that she thought differently. She closed her eyes, wondering how mad he’d truly become. In that one instant, she felt the threads of his dark gifts over Aiden falter. She wrestled with the vampire’s spell and released the power he held over the detective. Aiden dropped to the floor like a stone. She heard him grunt in pain, but he managed to struggle to his feet. “That human doesn’t concern me, Daniella. A hard cock is a hard cock, right? He’ll submit to me, they all do … just as you submitted—to—him.” His features changed into beastly shadows. “I plan to drink my fill, and you … you I will have as dessert.” With the agility afforded only to creatures such as herself, Daniella leapt forward, her nails elongating into razor talons. Damien jumped to his feet, meeting her head on. Their bodies crashed, and the ancient race of vampire and vampire of The First ensued. **** Aiden tried to clear the pain-induced fog from his head. His arms ached and every muscle in his body screamed in agony. The room still tilted at an odd angle, but he managed to focus just as Daniella slammed into Damien. He watched in horror as her beautiful features changed into something more Neanderthal. Gleaming fangs caught the candlelight as the two fought—a strange, macabre dance that felt like a nightmare come to life. Both their hair swept out like shadows of death, sometimes obscuring them completely from his view. His breath caught his throat as Damien’s claws ripped through Daniella’s sweatshirt and skin, leaving thick, ragged trails of coursing blood. Vicious growls and haunted screams deafened him, but he couldn’t look away. She kicked, crushing Damien against the stone wall. The impact caused stones to hurl out in all directions. Aiden ducked as a rock the size of his fist narrowly missed his forehead. Dust rose from the ground around them, like some grotesque fog. In terror, he saw the vampire strike out as if to rip Daniella’s heart from her chest. She moved out of his reach, lissome and deadly, biting into the flesh of his arm to tear a gaping chunk of flesh away. He could see they wearied from exertion and loss of blood. Damien’s body looked as scored and ravaged as Daniella’s. Still, claws and teeth lashed out, only a blur to Aiden’s eyes. Damien suddenly leaped over her head, landing only a few feet away from him. Flattening himself against the wall, he tried to move out of the vampire's reach, but the chains restricted him. He grabbed Aiden’s throat, crushing his larynx. Black specks clouded his vision

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

102

as he fought to pull oxygen into his lungs. Strangled cries squeaked out, and he closed his eyes, waiting to die. The wall behind him suddenly quaked, and the clamp around his throat loosened. He opened his eyes to find Daniella holding Damien up beside him by his throat. Her long, scalpel nails sunk into the preternatural flesh of the vampire’s neck. She squeezed, sinking her fingers deeper in the skin until only the tops of her knuckles showed beneath gentle fonts of blood. “You should never underestimate a vampire of the First, Damien. I refused you then, and I refuse you now! You have murdered innocents in your path to gain what I will never give you. Your life is a waste, just like you,” she snarled in his face. The brutality of her actions made Aiden want to puke. Her face was nothing as he remembered. She looked rabid—feral and wild, with deep leaking gouges of flesh and blood marring her once beautiful skin. It terrified the very essence in him. Pulling on the chains that held his arms, he tried to move away from the monsters. From the corner of his eye, he saw Damien clench and pull at something around his neck. There was a momentary flash of gold. His terror entwined with a deadly premonition— something bad was about to happen. No matter what he did, the shackles held him fast. The vampire’s right arm shot out, and two miniature blades sprung out of the pendant Damien held in his hand, slicing cleanly over the skin of his neck. For a moment, he couldn’t register what happened. He felt the sting of the incisions, and when he looked down the front of his overcoat, he watched his life drain out from his slashed jugular. A deafening roar filled his ears, amidst the faint echoes of gurgling that he assumed were his own. Daniella’s timorous scream was the last thing he heard.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

103

Chapter Twenty Two: Summation In slow motion, Daniella saw the pendant hanging from Damien’s alabaster hand. When he squeezed the center onyx stone, two minuscule blades flashed in the candlelight. Concentrating all her strength into the hand crushing his throat, she was too slow to stop the swing of his arm as it cut across Aiden’s neck. Hot blood spewed forth, drenching her left shoulder, hair and side of her face. She stood, transfixed with horror, as the detective’s eyes widened when he looked down to see a flood of blood welling out from him. She screamed in terror, and unequivocal fear erupted like a hurricane. The hand holding Damien compressed in her panic and, as easy as plucking a bud off a flower, her vampiric strength detached it from his body. For a moment, Damien’s dark eyes rounded, and she watched those hideous lips she had kissed centuries ago try to speak. In fury, she hurled the putrid thing against the cellar wall, a dull thud resonating in the sudden silence. Damien's lifeless body slipped from her hands as she moved to yank the metal manacles off Aiden’s wrists. She cradled his head upon her lap, and pressed her hands against Aiden’s wound, trying to stop the gushing blood. He tried to speak, but only gurgles and bubbles of sanguinary liquid dribbled from his mouth. She wept, crimson tears streaming down her cheeks to splatter onto his stricken face. As she rocked him against her chest, his blood saturated her clothing, soaking through to her cold flesh. She had seconds to save him, but she couldn't think straight. He was dying before her eyes. Throwing back her head, she cried out to the heavens, “You can't have him!” Something snapped inside—a revelation, an epiphany, it didn't matter, nor did she stop to dwell on it. Drawing a fang across her wrist, she opened a vein, pressing it against his mouth. “Aiden, you have to drink. Please … you’ll die if you don’t. You can’t leave me, Aiden!” The beating of his heart slowed to nothing but a mere murmur, a faint echo that continued to fade from her awareness. His head drooped to the side, and his eyes closed. His face reposed as if in slumber. She lifted her head, howling out her grief on the top of her lungs. Windows of the brownstone imploded, wooden floors cracked and caved in around her, and the stone walls around them heaved and shuddered like an earthquake passing through. Daniella’s sorrow resonated through the very bowels of the city of Kirkland. Hanging her head, she sobbed out his name. “Aiden! Aiden!” Then she felt it. A feeble movement like a whispered kiss against her hand. Panting, she grasped his head, pushing her wrist more firmly against his mouth. “Drink, Aiden. By the gods, please drink!” Again, she felt it, stronger this time. His lips lapped at her flesh, gently at first, before growing stronger as her ancient blood began working through his system. Teeth clamped around her skin, drawing her life force deep into his mouth. The room took on a distorted effulgence, and she fought against the dizziness and nausea that followed. She had lost too much blood fighting Damien, and in her

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

104

weakened state, she knew Aiden had the power to kill her by draining her dry. If he loses himself in a blood frenzy, we’re both doomed. His bloodstained hands wrapped around her arm, his nails digging into her skin. With long, urgent pulls, he drank, a seductive purr vibrating against her. The world began to close in. She couldn’t focus, and the darkness creeping at the edges of her vision continued to deepen. She fell forward and with every ounce of her strength, she wrenched her hand away from his avaricious mouth. In the daunting silence, she felt him stir. He opened his bleary eyes, trying to speak, but the laceration across his neck made his words sound like nothing more than high-pitched squeaks. “Don’t talk Aiden,” she whispered, pushing past her exhaustion. She turned his head away from her chest, and applied whatever blood still oozed from her wrist over his neck wound. “We have to get out of here before the authorities arrive,” she said, grimacing. She waited a few minutes, trying her best to draw strength to her limbs before standing to her feet. A savage growl erupted from her when she caught sight of the headless corpse. She plunged her hand deep into Damien’s chest, and pulled out his black, ancient heart. With a touch of her mind, it burst into a ball of brilliant orange flames, shriveling to nothing but a pile of soot in her palm. She concentrated her power on his mutilated body and the head that lay a few feet away. She could see he still lived, but barely. He blinked up at her, his evil eyes leaking bloodred tears onto the cold cellar floor. Without thought or provocation, she detonated the two body parts into flames until nothing but black ash floated in the air around them, like flakes of obscene snow. Aiden strove to stand, but he was far too weak. She lifted his body up into her arms, grunting with effort. Like a newlywed carrying her bride across the threshold, she scrambled over the fallen debris, carefully shielding him against her chest. The stairs that led down to the cellar were nothing more than jagged pieces of lumber strewn like matchsticks. Jumping with inhuman prowess, she landed on the foyer at the back entrance. She gritted her teeth when the sound of sirens wailed in the near distance. It took a few seconds longer before she could cloak them under a spell of concealment. She walked out into the dawning of a new day to begin the long trek back to her penthouse. **** Aiden woke, his eyelids dry and burning. He stared up at the shadowed ceiling and wondered where he was. The events came crashing into him with such force, he opened his mouth to scream. Nothing came out except a horrid, twittered sound. The raw pain from doing so brought tears to his irritated eyes. His hand sought out a thick bandage wrapped around his neck. He struggled to sit up, finding the rustling of the sheets far too loud. In panic, he searched the darkness for Daniella. “How are you feeling?” He turned toward the sound of her subdued voice. She sat in a Queen Anne chair with a blanket wrapped snug around legs folded beneath her. She didn’t move closer, and he could see the fear in her eyes. In fact, he sensed it in the air around them. Something was different, wrong .… “What the hell?” he croaked out in a gravelly voice. “Don’t try to talk just yet, Aiden. He severed ….” She pursed her lips, refusing to say more.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

105

The memory of those miniature blades flashed through his mind. “I should be dead.” His raspy whisper boomed in his ears. “Yes. You should be,” she said. “Sleep, Aiden. Sleep and heal.” He felt his limbs become leaden, and he slid further beneath the blankets. His eyes closed, but one question burned through him, chasing him down into the depths of slumber. How the fuck am I still alive? Several hours later, he woke again. He turned toward the closed blinds and saw Daniella silhouetted in the same chair. She slept, her head tossed to the side, looking so fragile, paler, but as beautiful as ever. Memories of the battle between her and Damien coursed through him, but he shook the hideous images away. That’s not who, or what she is. She saved me…she saved this entire city from that demon. He involved me because … because she submitted, no, fell in love with me? His gaze strayed to the thin shafts of light escaping from the window frame behind the closed blinds. He knew it was morning. His internal clock confirmed it. He stretched beneath the sheets, feeling strength returning to his stiff muscles. Hell, he thought. I feel pretty damn good. The bandage around his neck itched, making it difficult to swallow. Working his fingers beneath the gauze, he removed it. As he ran his hand across the flesh of his throat, he stopped. There's no scab! His attention turned to the sounds of intermittent cars traveling the street outside. Their engines reverberated in his head as if they were driving through the building. He looked again toward Daniella, realizing she was now awake and staring back. His stomach clenched, seeing her so vulnerable—and sad. “Hey, scoot over here, will ya?” He offered her his widest smile. Throwing back the blanket off her lap, she hesitated, looking doubtful. “I know … you have questions … I ….” “Come here,” he said, patting the side of the bed. He realized his voice rang out as strong as ever. She must have worked that magic of hers on me, he reasoned to himself. She moved slow, and cautious, perching herself down on the edge of the mattress. He leaned forward and drew her into his arms. “It’s over, Daniella. We can go on with our lives now.” His fingers ran through the softness of her hair, and he inhaled the spicy scent that was uniquely her own. She pushed away to study his face, looking more baffled. “You don’t remember, do you?” she whispered. He heard the frightened tremor in her voice, and his brows folded. "I saw you ….” He shuddered away the memory. “I saw you incinerate Damien. He’s gone and good riddance to shit like that.” Taking a tendril of her hair, he rubbed its silkiness between his fingers. “Aiden, we have to talk.” She bit her lower lip. He didn’t like the sound of this. “Damien tried to kill me, but he failed. I feel great, Daniella, so you don’t have to worry. He didn’t do any permanent damage.” He tried pulling her close again, but she shoved him away. Why the hell does she look like a deer caught in headlights? She positioned herself on the center of the bed in front of him and reached out to hold his hands. As if thinking better of it, she laced her fingers together and placed them on her lap. “Aiden, something … something happened last night. You were injured ….” “I know, but …." He gave her an incorrigible wink, trying his best to put her at ease. "You fulfilled your promise. You protected me. Now come here,” he murmured. He wanted to

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

106

taste her, hold her, but more than anything, he wanted to make love to her. His cock hardened at the sweet thought. Every nerve in his body tingled. He could smell things he’d never noticed before, like her exotic scent swirling through his senses. Today, however, he noticed even more. There were undercurrents of a fruity sweetness to it. Sounds vibrated in his ears with resounding clarity. In fact, he’d never felt more energetic, or alive. Maybe I’ll take a run this morning. His exhilaration turned to confusion as he watched Daniella lips stretch into a white line. “What’s wrong?” “Aiden, you’re … something happened last night.” She still refused to look him in the eye. “I know. You keep repeating this. I didn’t suffer a head injury.” Slipping his fingers under her chin, he forced her to look up at him. What he saw in her eyes panicked him. “Daniella?” She stiffened against his touch. “Damien sliced your jugular. He also severed your vocal cords. Your injuries were bad, Aiden.” Her whispered words were fraught with guilt. “Um, and here I am, right?” “You truly don’t remember?” “Would I be asking you then? The last thing I remember is that pendant … a sting across my neck, then you setting the asshole on fire.” Blood-red tears welled in her eyes, and when she tried to turn away, he held her fast. “What’s going on?” He clenched his jaw until his teeth hurt. Then he heard it—whispers—that unique, husky accent floating around him like smoke. He couldn’t make out the words, but he knew without a doubt it was her voice. An onslaught of emotions followed. Shaking his head, he managed to force the sensations to the back of his mind. “What’s happening? Something is definitely out of whack here, Daniella.” He waited, his stomach clenched like fists. “Damien ….” She stopped, licking her lips, and he reached for her. She stared down at his fingers, as if drawing strength from him. “I’ve done something, Aiden. Something I vowed I would never do.” Crimson tears glistened on her cheeks. “Damien … your injuries were serious. There was … the incision … he severed your vocal cords. You ... you would have died.” He nodded. When the realization hit him, it was like a swinging two-by-four crushing against his skull. Falling back against the headboard, he gawked at her, stunned. “I coalesced my blood with yours—I made you drink so you wouldn’t die. I … I didn’t want to lose you." She choked on a sob. Aiden couldn’t believe his ears. He stared back, numb and incoherent. “I am no longer the last vampire of the First, Aiden,” she whispered.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

107

Chapter Twenty Three: Immortal Aiden drove back to his apartment, feeling anesthetized and blown away. He didn’t know which felt worse. Although the changes affecting his body felt wonderful, at least at first, when he didn’t know the real reason, his entire life had shattered in that one sentence. Everything real and normal about him was nothing anymore, including Daniella. I'm a monster! She tried reasoning with him, but he couldn’t listen. He needed time to think things through on his own. The one hand that gripped the steering wheel kept straying up to his neck. It wasn’t because of the absence of a scar. True that freaked him out, but he didn’t feel a pulse. Daniella had tried to explain that she didn’t know what kind of changes would take place for him. She’d never turned anyone to the darkness before, and her body chemistry was different from the regular vampire kin. He knew the basics, but since he was a man, she’d confessed that she had no idea if he would end up with a blood cycle like hers every month, or whether he would need to feed like a regular vamp. “Fuck!” He growled for the hundredth time, slamming his palm against the wheel. He felt no cravings for blood. The sun that shone so bright this morning, as if in mockery, didn’t bother him, but he felt ill and not himself all the same. The only comfort he took from all this was knowing that he didn’t have to kill to feed. Or so she told him. He turned the corner of Osborne Street, his wheels screeching across the dry pavement, and headed down Delaney Avenue. Nickolette’s Tavern came into view. The windows stood dark and empty, an ominous reminder of the people he’d lost in such a short period. Swallowing hard, he turned his head away and continued driving. Once inside his apartment, he removed his holster and shoes, and the clothes Daniella had graciously given him. Events of the past few days clamored through his brain as he threw himself naked across his unmade bed. In every vision, however, Daniella came to the forefront of his thoughts. The grief on her face when he had left her this morning was unlike any he’d ever seen, or felt before. She didn’t even try to stop me. Placing an arm across his eyes, he pushed back the swell of tears and stifled the pain. I’ll just lie here and feel sorry for myself. He was about to drift off to sleep when the ringing of the telephone cut through the silence. “Ah, shit! I should have called the Captain.” His fingers fumbled for his pants on the floor, and it took him a moment to realize he didn’t have a cell phone anymore. Rising to his feet, he stumbled into the unkempt kitchen and picked up the receiver. “Where the hell have you been?" Barlow yelled. "I've been trying to reach you all morning, but your cell phone is dead.” Aiden cringed. And that's not all. The worried, and reproachable tone in his boss’ voice spoke volumes. “I … well, it’s a long story, Captain.” “There’s protocol to follow, Blackmore. You were to call me morning, noon, and night, damn it.” He paused, and his voice lowered. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but ….”

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

108

He could see the captain running a hand over that bald spot, and he braced himself, gripping the corner of the kitchen counter. Are there more murders? Could it be that Damien wasn’t working alone? Worst case scenarios raced through his mind. “Dixie and Denny … their bodies disappeared last night. Someone stole their damn bodies!” If Aiden breathed, he would have heaved a sigh of relief. On the drive home, he’d thought long and hard about how to explain this to Barlow, and with Daniella’s help the previous night, they had concocted a story that he hoped Barlow would believe. “It was Sebastian LaMarre,” he mumbled into the receiver. “What!" he bellowed. “How the hell do you know that? Where is he now? Arrest his sorry ass!” He moved the phone away from his sensitive ear, the captain’s angry voice vibrating through every nerve in his body. “I … I found LaMarre last night, Captain. There won’t be any more murders,” he added, pressing his fingers into the sockets of his eyes in hope of alleviating the throbbing migraine in his head. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Aiden! What did you do? Why didn’t call for backup? Who the fuck do you think you are? Superman?” “Listen, Captain. There’s a building close to the waterfront district, around the corner from Carellon and River Drive.” He tried remembering the exact location, but everything was still too hazy. “Dispatch will have the address because they sent squads out there last night. Try the fire department. I … I found Dixie and Denny.” He stopped, choking on the raw sorrow sweeping through him. “Da … Sebastian, the sick bastard, was having a bonfire with their remains. Some sort of … of … occult ritual. He confessed to me about the other murders.” “He confessed?” Aiden bit his tongue. Barlow was beginning to sound like parrot. “I found him burning them in the basement of a deserted Brownstone. There’s nothing left of them, Captain. Nothing.” A long, stilted silence followed. “What happened to LaMarre?” Barlow’s voice lowered an octave, calm but inquisitive. “I don’t know,” he lied. “When I got there, he … he was just going up in flames himself, but he managed to confess.” “What do you mean 'up in flames'? I need a little bit more than that.” His mind had worked itself into a frenzy to come up with something believable. He prayed this worked, or he’d be sitting on the other side of jail bars. “Whatever incendiary device, or liquid LaMarre used on Dixie and Denny, he must have spilt some on himself. He … he was in flames when I got there.” The bitterness in his voice sounded tangible, even in his own ears. “Why didn’t you call this in?” “The fire started to collapse the building and … and I was knocked out for a while. By the time I called Daniella to come and get me, I wasn’t coherent enough to contact you. I just woke up now. Look, I’ll write out a report if need be.” The phone line silenced again. “Don’t bother, Aiden. I’ll send a squad out there now to check on it. We can close the case if we find the bodies. I’ll tell the pencil-necks upstairs that we received an anonymous tip, or something.” He paused again. “Aiden?” “Yeah, Cap?”

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

109

“How do your guts feel?” Aiden faltered. He sensed Barlow wasn’t convinced by his tale, but he was willing to believe his version nonetheless. When it came to cop killers, retribution in any form was welcome. “My guts are just fine. I’m relieved this is over, though. Look, Captain, I’ve decided to take some time off from the force.” “Why? You’re the best I got,” Barlow pleaded. “We’ll get through this, Aiden. If you’re worried about those other charges against you, the mother is dropping them. I’ve got the paperwork on my desk right now. Apparently, her son was tweaking on something last night and took a butcher knife to her. She’s admitted the little prick into a treatment center. Stupid bitch doesn’t want the public finding out that her baby boy is an addict. Don’t quit on me, Blackmore. I need you.” “I can’t … not right now, Captain. This case … I lost friends—close friends. I need time .... Look, I gotta go.” “Aiden?” “Yeah?” “What really happened last night?” If you only knew, he mused. Running a hand through his hair, he clenched his teeth and answered. “Let’s just say there won’t be any more murders, and we’ll leave it at that.” He could imagine Barlow pinching the bridge of nose. “Okay, Aiden,” he said softly. “I’ll keep you out of it. Just pray that I don’t have to go before the board with this. If I do, you’ll have to testify. Reconsider your decision, okay? You’re still on indefinite leave, so how about I keep you there for now?” “Sure, Captain. Thanks.” Aiden hung up the phone, feeling worse than ever. He'd just lied to his boss and lost the only woman he'd ever loved. In his mind, he could hear the flushing of a toilet, and with it, both his life and career went down the drain, along with all the other floating pieces of shit. **** When Daniella heard the front door close behind Aiden, she threw herself on the bed and sobbed. She’d never experienced pain like this before. The hollowness left inside by his abrupt departure created scars she knew would take centuries to heal, if at all. She could smell him in the linens on the bed. Her hands clenched at the fabric, memorizing the scent. When the maids arrived a short time later, she managed to compose herself back to the way she was before meeting Aiden—cold, detached, and aloof. She ordered them to strip the bed and disinfect the entire penthouse. She wanted no reminders of him anywhere. Deep down, she knew this wouldn’t erase his memory. He’d touched a part of her no one had ever been able to do before. As the domestic help went about their chores, she called the airport and arranged for her jet to be readied. She then placed a call to Connor, leaving him a message to meet her at Heathrow Airport. Her decision to leave left her feeling colder than usual, and so empty. When the maids left and she was alone, Daniella walked aimlessly about the rooms, waiting for the car she’d called to take her to the airport. Two large suitcases stood by the elevator doors. When the ring of the elevator sounded, she stood at the entrance, waiting. When it opened it, she stopped in her tracks. There stood Aiden. He’d showered and changed. The white cotton shirt he wore accentuated the dark, curly hairs peeking out of his open collar, and his low-rise jeans hugged his torso just right. It took her a moment to realize that she’d never seen him without a blazer or dress pants before. He looked

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

110

more handsome than he had a right to be. In that instant, her world dropped out from under her feet, and she stumbled back. Her internal mechanism of anger turned on. “Did you leave something behind?” she snipped, turning away to sit on the couch. Crossing her legs and smoothing out a crease in her black pantsuit, she refused to look at him for fear of breaking down. He will not see my pain, she vowed. He stood in the elevator for a moment longer before crossing the threshold. “I believe I did," he said, too softly to be heard by any other ears except a vampire’s. She stiffened against the leather. From the corner of her eye, she saw him glance at the suitcases. “Going somewhere?” he asked with a nonchalant tilt of his head. He moved into the living room, his long legs closing the distance with ease. “I have business to attend to.” Why is he here? Feeling like an adolescent schoolgirl harboring a secret crush, she placed the well-versed mask of indifference over her face and waited. Every muscle in her body tensed with nervousness. He sat at the far end of the couch, the same seat he’d occupied when she’d explained who and what she was. Seems like ages ago, she thought, concentrating on her hands grasped on her lap. “Where you headed?” She could sense the heat emanating from his gaze, but she would not give him the satisfaction of showing what her non-beating heart truly felt. “England. To meet Connor. Then I’m going home to Scotland.” “Scotland? Gees, I’ve never been there.” She shook her head. She’d had enough of this torture. “Aiden, you have to go. I’ve called a car ….” “From Freemont Elite Services?” This time she looked up at him, and the unmistakable amusement on his face floored her. “As a matter of fact, I did,” she retorted, feeling a flush of ire warm her cheeks. What the hell is so funny? The look on your face. Her eyes rounded. Aiden’s voice resonated in her mind as coherently as if he’d spoken them. “I’ve been thinking all day and … I haven’t had a vacation for a long time. Come to think of it, I’ve never been to Scotland either.” She felt her mouth drop open. He edged himself closer to her, staring deep into her eyes. “I love you, Daniella, and I can’t change what’s been done. You did it … unselfishly, to save my life. Personally, I can’t think of anyone better to spend eternity with than you. To live one day without you in my life ….” Daniella couldn’t will her limbs to work. “You?” she cut in, her voice quivering with incredulity. In the next instant, she felt his arms embrace her. “You saved me, Daniella, and although I have no idea how to be vampire, I have the best mentor in world. I’ll … we’ll get through this. I don’t really have a choice, but ... I know that I can’t go on without you in my life.” She couldn’t stop the flow of her tears even if she’d tried. His scent filled her, and although she would have laughed if someone told her this, it felt like fireworks exploded in her

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

111

mind. When his lips crushed down upon hers, she knew her centuries of loneliness had, at last, ended. Aiden pulled away with a mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes. “By the way, in the last seven centuries, have you ever been married?” She silenced his warm, ringing laughter within a hidden promise of her lips.

Diary of Daniella Rolfe

Dawné Dominique

112

Chapter Twenty Four: Coda The Second day of September, in the year Two Thousand and Seven: If someone were to tell me of the changes about to transpire in my life, I would have laughed aloud, and ridiculed those who would have proposed such preposterous things. Alas, I cannot even begin to write the horror. However, I revel in the happiness that has come by its hand. In the year 1578, I met a vampire by the name of Damien Ranier. Although I do not remember the exact timeframe, for such things are unimportant to me. I know that somehow I corrupted this once gentle night creature. As our time together waned, his insistent urgings for me to share my blood became a demand I no longer wished to entertain. I left him, seeking other pleasures to occupy my lonely existence, refusing him what he considered the ultimate consummation of our love. Damien was nothing but a mere trinket in my travels in life, and I easily tired of his selfish nature. He wanted more than the mere existence of being an ordinary vampire—he wanted the unique powers that came from being a First. I could not, and would not, offer such a thing to him. Our parting was not on pleasant terms, but if I had known what would transpire in the years that passed, I might have reconsidered my decision. Damien’s resentment toward me forever changed not only his path, but also those who ventured across it. I cannot help but ponder if other 'ghosts' will return to hinder me. I harbor this guilt deep within my soul, and although I know I am not to blame, my taint is upon his evil deeds nonetheless. Much has changed in my life of late. Aiden Blackmore—to even write his name upon this parchment, I feel a swell of joy deep inside. It nurtures me in a way that blood cannot do, leeching away the coldness of my attenuated existence. I have never known such bliss before and I find myself living each day much like a human. I take nothing for granted for there is much darkness in this world. Aiden's intrinsic goodness has taught me many things, but the most important—the ultimate sacrifice of love. I have no idea what my future shall hold. I’ve broken my greatest vow, one which I refused to Damien that set him on his path of evil. I sustain no guilt for my actions in destroying him, but I sense retribution for this crime, though I know not why. With Aiden by my side, I can face the future willingly … and I am never alone. The End