Grayson’s thumb traced over the circle embedded in my palm, the center of the spider rune that marked my skin. A little tingle of interest sparked to life in the pit of my stomach. A small sizzle of awareness, of potential, of possibilities. I regarded Owen a little more closely, letting my eyes drift over his powerful shoulders, thick arms, solid chest. The warm tingle spread out, rippled through my stomach, and drifted even lower. Hmm. Maybe I should take Owen Grayson up on his offer of sex. Maybe that would help me purge these lingering feelings I had for Donovan Caine and get the detective out of my system once and for all.

“I’ve asked you before, and I’ll ask you again,” Grayson said. “Go out with me, Gin. Dinner, dancing, a movie. Whatever you want. On me. All I ask is the pleasure of your company.”

I took another sip of my bitter drink. “And what if I’m not good company?”

He shrugged. “Then we’ll chalk it up to a failed experiment. What do you say?”

I opened my mouth to say… something, I wasn’t quite sure what, when a woman stopped in front of our booth.

“Owen! What a pleasure to see you here tonight,” the woman said.

I recognized her. Roslyn Phillips. The vampire madam and owner of Northern Aggression. Roslyn was a gorgeous woman from head to toe. Full, perky breasts, tight thighs, curved hips, and an ass that looked like it had been sculpted by Michelangelo. With a figure like that, it was no wonder Roslyn used sex to power up, along with blood.

Some vamps were like that, especially the ones who worked in the Ashland flesh trade. All vamps needed blood, of course, drinking it down the way humans might swallow a daily dose of vitamins. But many vamps also got a similar high off sex—or feeding off the emotions of others. Those who charged for their sexual services experienced the buzz and got paid for their time and expertise. Win-win for them. Which is why a large majority of the hookers in Ashland were vampires. Well, that and the fact they lived so long. Hooking was a skill that would always be in demand, despite the changing times. Always good to have a plan B to fall back on, in case of recession or lousy stock investments.

Roslyn Phillips was dressed for a night at the club, and the vamp’s silver miniskirt and matching suit jacket showed off all her glorious assets to their ultimate perfection. Now I didn’t look too shabby tonight in my own form-fitting black pants, blue silk shirt, and designer boots. But next to Roslyn’s knockout beauty, I might as well have been a piece of poor white trash wearing a holey potato sack. And the vamp’s face was just as attractive as the rest of her. Eyes and skin the color of dark, melted toffee. Cropped, feathered black hair that just brushed the edge of her jaw. A small, pointed nose. Blindingly white teeth capped off by two perfectly pointed fangs.