Vampire Killer Series
Passionate Thirst by Cameron Dean
Candace Steele Vampire Killer 1
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
For Jane and Ellen,
long live the triumvirate!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Prologue
Just another night in Sin City...
He was the sexiest guy I had seen in Vegas.
Considering how many guys I see in a day, that's saying something.
Not only that, I see all kinds, from sleek high rollers in silk shirts and Italian leather shoes, wreathed in clouds of expensive cologne, to slobs in Hawaiian shirts and flip-flops, oozing bad body odor. As a general rule, casinos don't get terribly exercised about dress codes. Most don't care too much about what you've got on, or what you don't, as long as you can make it through the door to lay your money down. For a guy to make me sit up and take notice like this one did, he had to be something really special.
Trust me, he was.
Though to say sitting up is slightly misleading since I was on my feet at the time. They hurt. But then they usually do. Occupational hazard of my job. I'm on my feet, my high-heeled feet, a good eight hours a day, cocktail waitressing at Vegas's newest mega casino-hotel, the Scheherazade. One of the first things you learn: Do not, under any circumstances, take off your shoes till you go off-shift, no matter how much you might want to.
After shift, however, you can take off anything your little heart desires. Which brings me back to the guy.
"It's so unfair," my coworker Marlene moaned as we shared a rare moment of togetherness while waiting for our drink orders. In our regulation high heels, gauzy harem pants, and pillbox hats, I figure we looked like two I Dream of Jeannie clones, Vegas style, though I think even Jeannie would have drawn the line at the pink velour halter tops.
"Who shows up in my section?" she went on. "Guys who look like Beavis or Butt-Head. You get Sean Connery as James Bond."
It was a good description, I had to admit. The man in question was currently at the blackjack table I covered, looking like he owned the place and winning like there was no tomorrow. I spotted him as soon as I came back on the floor from my midshift break. Tall, dark, and handsome with a sort of lean and rangy build that kept him from sliding too far into GQ territory. Though his clothing was plainly expensive-charcoal-colored pants and a white cotton shirt so sheer I could almost see right through it-he didn't look as if he had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Instead he looked...hungry. An alpha-male wolf in designer clothing. As combinations go, it packed quite a punch.
Down, girl. You're still on the clock, I thought.
"You can tell which one is Beavis and which one is Butt-Head?" I asked Marlene as I began positioning drinks on my tray. The one for the guy in question was a very expensive single-malt scotch.
Marlene huffed out a laugh. "Cute," she said. "But you can't fool me. I know you're only trying to soften the blow. It's such a waste. That's the thing I can't stand."
I have very strict personal rules about tangling up the sheets with casino patrons, a thing my coworkers know quite well. Going to bed with strangers may sound exciting. And it is, sometimes. But a girl gets tired of being the thing that happens in Vegas and stays in Vegas.
"And what were you planning to do?" I came right back. "Take him up on whatever it is he has to offer?"
Marlene has a good ten years on my twentysomething, all of which she's spent happily married to her high school sweetheart-a guy with a face so gorgeous it almost has me convinced angels really do walk among us. She was about as likely to take a roll with a customer as she was to flap her arms and fly to Mars.
"That's not the point," she said loftily, aligning drinks on her own tray. "The point is that somebody's got to. He watches you, you know, when he thinks you're not looking."
I tried without success to keep a satisfied smirk from stealing across my face. "Does he now...."
"I knew it. I just knew it," Marlene pounced at once. "You're tempted. Admit it, Candace. Please, please tell me you're going to cut loose just this once. If you don't, Gloria will get him and we'll all have our noses rubbed in it for weeks."
Gloria, a stacked blond who staffed one of the roulette wheels, was a notorious man-eater of the kiss-and-tell variety.
"Well," I said slowly, no longer making any attempt to hold back the smile. The truth was, I was tempted. Very. In a way I hadn't been in quite some time. "He is pretty spectacular. And I guess there's not much point in having rules if you don't break them every once in a while."
Candace Steele Vampire Killer 1
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
For Jane and Ellen,
long live the triumvirate!
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Prologue
Just another night in Sin City...
He was the sexiest guy I had seen in Vegas.
Considering how many guys I see in a day, that's saying something.
Not only that, I see all kinds, from sleek high rollers in silk shirts and Italian leather shoes, wreathed in clouds of expensive cologne, to slobs in Hawaiian shirts and flip-flops, oozing bad body odor. As a general rule, casinos don't get terribly exercised about dress codes. Most don't care too much about what you've got on, or what you don't, as long as you can make it through the door to lay your money down. For a guy to make me sit up and take notice like this one did, he had to be something really special.
Trust me, he was.
Though to say sitting up is slightly misleading since I was on my feet at the time. They hurt. But then they usually do. Occupational hazard of my job. I'm on my feet, my high-heeled feet, a good eight hours a day, cocktail waitressing at Vegas's newest mega casino-hotel, the Scheherazade. One of the first things you learn: Do not, under any circumstances, take off your shoes till you go off-shift, no matter how much you might want to.
After shift, however, you can take off anything your little heart desires. Which brings me back to the guy.
"It's so unfair," my coworker Marlene moaned as we shared a rare moment of togetherness while waiting for our drink orders. In our regulation high heels, gauzy harem pants, and pillbox hats, I figure we looked like two I Dream of Jeannie clones, Vegas style, though I think even Jeannie would have drawn the line at the pink velour halter tops.
"Who shows up in my section?" she went on. "Guys who look like Beavis or Butt-Head. You get Sean Connery as James Bond."
It was a good description, I had to admit. The man in question was currently at the blackjack table I covered, looking like he owned the place and winning like there was no tomorrow. I spotted him as soon as I came back on the floor from my midshift break. Tall, dark, and handsome with a sort of lean and rangy build that kept him from sliding too far into GQ territory. Though his clothing was plainly expensive-charcoal-colored pants and a white cotton shirt so sheer I could almost see right through it-he didn't look as if he had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Instead he looked...hungry. An alpha-male wolf in designer clothing. As combinations go, it packed quite a punch.
Down, girl. You're still on the clock, I thought.
"You can tell which one is Beavis and which one is Butt-Head?" I asked Marlene as I began positioning drinks on my tray. The one for the guy in question was a very expensive single-malt scotch.
Marlene huffed out a laugh. "Cute," she said. "But you can't fool me. I know you're only trying to soften the blow. It's such a waste. That's the thing I can't stand."
I have very strict personal rules about tangling up the sheets with casino patrons, a thing my coworkers know quite well. Going to bed with strangers may sound exciting. And it is, sometimes. But a girl gets tired of being the thing that happens in Vegas and stays in Vegas.
"And what were you planning to do?" I came right back. "Take him up on whatever it is he has to offer?"
Marlene has a good ten years on my twentysomething, all of which she's spent happily married to her high school sweetheart-a guy with a face so gorgeous it almost has me convinced angels really do walk among us. She was about as likely to take a roll with a customer as she was to flap her arms and fly to Mars.
"That's not the point," she said loftily, aligning drinks on her own tray. "The point is that somebody's got to. He watches you, you know, when he thinks you're not looking."
I tried without success to keep a satisfied smirk from stealing across my face. "Does he now...."
"I knew it. I just knew it," Marlene pounced at once. "You're tempted. Admit it, Candace. Please, please tell me you're going to cut loose just this once. If you don't, Gloria will get him and we'll all have our noses rubbed in it for weeks."
Gloria, a stacked blond who staffed one of the roulette wheels, was a notorious man-eater of the kiss-and-tell variety.
"Well," I said slowly, no longer making any attempt to hold back the smile. The truth was, I was tempted. Very. In a way I hadn't been in quite some time. "He is pretty spectacular. And I guess there's not much point in having rules if you don't break them every once in a while."
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