Thinking of Monique now, he licked his lips. Draining her blood had been exquisite, watching her breaths become shallow and bare, seeing her skin whiten, feeling her heartbeat slow and finally stop all together, then staring into her open, dead eyes….

He shuddered, reliving the moment, but it wouldn’t be enough. Memories faded all too quickly.

Fortunately the bloodlust would be fulfilled.

He capped the teeny bottle and watched it dangle and sparkle for just a second before returning it to the locker.

The empty hooks mocked him, especially the one marked for Tara Atwater. Old rage burned through him when he thought of how that little bitch had tried to defy him, had hidden the treasure meant for him. No amount of urging or force had been able to loosen her thick tongue and she was dead quickly, almost willingly, with little fight in her.

But she had managed the tiniest of smiles as the blood had drained from her and she’d released her soul, as if she had somehow won their battle.

His teeth clenched as he considered the imperfection.

The vial was out there. He just had to find it.

He’d tried of course, to no avail.

But he wouldn’t give up.

He slammed the locker door shut. Bam! The sound ricocheted off the walls and he stormed still naked into the cavernous room with the pool and alcove he used for an office. The water reflected in shifting shades of blue upon the walls and ceiling, his computer hummed faintly.

The vial was most likely in Tara’s apartment, hidden away somewhere. Until now, he’d been careful to stay away from the empty unit with the old busybody of a landlady. But now he had more than one reason to return. Not only was he certain that the precious vial of Tara’s blood was secreted somewhere on the premises, but now Kristi Bentz occupied the very apartment he had to search.

Which was perfect.

CHAPTER 7

“W asn’t Grotto’s class the best?” Mai gushed as Kristi climbed the stairs to her apartment. Carrying an overflowing basket of laundry, Mai met her on the landing of the second floor. Almost as if she’d been waiting for her and peering out between her living room blinds. “I saw you come into the class a little late.”

“Everyone did,” Kristi said, silently groaning. She’d wanted to talk with the vampirism prof after class but had failed in her efforts. But she was determined to meet with him and see what he knew about campus cults.

“Was the whole experience cool, or what? The dark classroom, the drapes drawn, and fake candles lit? All of those images of vampires? Some of them were so scary, I actually got goose bumps, and the others were so camp. I mean, Bela Lugosi? Really? But I gotta say, I about freaked when Grotto took out his false fangs.”