Free BloodImmoral by Astrid Cooper Page B

the mouldy stench. It filled her nostrils and her mind, the uncounted grime and disease of generations of thieves and scum who had used the alley, done unspeakable things, leaving their psychic imprint before moving on…
    His hands moved quickly. With a sharp snap, heavy cold metal was fastened around her wrists. She was pivoted around to face him.
    She tested the handcuffs. She could easily break them, but for the moment, only for a moment, she would indulge him. Bondage was a game she enjoyed, but she was never the one restrained. And she preferred to use silk cords and ribbons, occasionally a strand of pearls, but never anything as coarse and barbaric as handcuffs. She twisted her wrists, the metal chafing. Interesting. But now wasn’t the time to be thinking of sex games. Handcuffs might be something for the future, though…on her prey’s wrists, never her own.
    She watched as he knelt beside the figure, a finger caressing the dead woman’s cheek. His touch was one of familiarity, of love. Mirra frowned. He knew the victim, she realised. Sorrow filled him, but was quickly replaced by burning fury. He pushed himself to his feet, all whipcord and anger.
    He dug into his leather jacket and flashed a wallet before her eyes. A police badge… Oh great! A cop. Trouble of the worst kind. She stared at the gun.
    “You’re no cop!” she challenged.
    “No?” He frowned, his gaze intense.
    “Adelaide cops don’t use a Colt Python. Against the rules.”
    “I make my own rules. I’m Detective Ric Rodrigeuz and I’m arresting you for murder.”
    “I didn’t kill her.”
    “You’re covered in blood.”
    “I can explain.”
    “Yeah, you can try .”
    She glared at him. Hell’s Great Gates. Had she lost her mind? Tell this man that she had just fled from a vampire blood orgy and stumbled into a renegade slaying? Every full moon she and her kind left their underworld enclaves to head topside for fun and games. The lure of the blood-moon was irresistible. The vamps and the others were feasting with abandon…the fang-boys and girls just never knew when to stop, and she was caught in the mess. What a bloody awful, fucking mess. Explain it she would—in her own way and he’d understand, but be none the wiser.
    Mirra carefully stretched out her aura to him, lapping his flesh with colours only she could see. She enveloped him in blue, to soothe. He shivered and for a moment his concentration wavered as her aura caressed, tasting him. His essence was of danger and dark lies and even darker truths. A man of rare contradictions. Intriguing, this man, and that was dangerous—for them both. She swept her tongue over her lips and took a step towards him. She halted, scenting the air. More humans nearby.
    “Looks like this is where the action is, boys. C’mon!” a harsh voice called at the entrance of the alley, followed by the sound of running feet.
    Six men, stinking of drugs and testosterone raced into the alleyway, took one look at the scene and fanned out, assuming the role of predators. She smiled, her fang tips piercing her bottom lip. These boys were no threat.
    “Ooooh.” A faint groan emanated from the corpse on the ground.
    “What the…?” The cop turned, his face greying as he saw the battered woman struggling to sit. “Monica, honey, just stay still, I’ll call for an ambulance and backup.”
    Monica, the-once-corpse, regarded him with pale eyes. “You don’t need to call for anyone. I’m fine. Just a bit drained, that’s all.” She laughed.
    “She’s transforming,” Mirra said. Even as she spoke, she saw the human flesh knitting rapidly. Where there had been gaping holes, now there was smooth, white skin. The resurrect would soon be at its peak. Not a moment to waste. Mirra broke free of the handcuffs in one surge.
    “Stay where you are!” the cop demanded.
    “If you don’t get out of here, you’ll be on the menu, you and the other six.” Not that she should care. Leave the new vamp to her