Drake caught the eye of his African American counterpart, Sgt. Luke Wyatt. He knew without a doubt that he and Luke were capable of doing the job. Who better to stop a vampire-serial killer than a vampire?
Drake was in search of a party crasher. The thought of his nemesis brought a scowl to his handsome face. His finely chiseled features appeared deadly serious.
Suddenly the hazel green eyes narrowed. He stopped to sniff the air. Trevor. He was certain of it. Trevor's smell was distinctive, dark, powerful and hungry. The hunger was always greatest during a full moon. It was a hunger Drake knew well. Because…he felt it so strongly himself.
Drake sniffed the air once again, the wind had shifted. Ah, he knew exactly where to find him. Drake abruptly changed direction and headed back through the party goers. His long stride took him toward the open French doors. Suddenly, a scream radiated throughout the huge hall. Damn, he was too late. Trevor had found his prey. Nevertheless, he rushed through the crowd; pushing aside spectators as they crowded onto the terrace.
Lady Eleanor Pettigrew lay motionless on the black wrought iron bench. Her long blonde tresses touching the stone floor. Her blue eyes were wide and sightless, her skin strangely pale. Drake rushed to her side and searched for a pulse. Unobtrusively he looked for small puncture wounds. There they were hidden by her high collar. He raised his head and looked at the assembled guests. Sadly he shook his head.
As the ladies began to wail in grief, he motioned for the men to lead them back inside. Drake removed a long spiked wooden splinter from his inside pocket. It had been sharpened to a strong keen point. With skillful dexterity he used this version of the wooden stake. Now Lady Eleanor would never share this cursed life. Sighing heavily he looked toward the moon. There he could vaguely see the outline of a large bat in flight.
"Is that understood Chief?" Donna waited patiently. He reminded her of her father. This was not a compliment.
William Langley and Drake shared one thing; a penchant for breaking the rules. In some professions, this might not have been a bad thing. However, William had been a fireman. In his job, following rules were a crucial aspect.
The good-looking chief was everything she had sworn to avoid. He had the same gung-ho attitude. A lot of women found this attitude attractive. But, she knew this could also be deadly. She had sworn to stay away from men like her father. For the first time in her life she was tempted to break her own rule.
Drake looked down at Donna's lovely profile. Her hazel eyes were worried. He wished he knew what would chase away those dark clouds. In a perfect world, he would entice her to give a relationship a try. But what could he offer her? Nothing. If he didn't find Trevor before he migrated, he'd be forced to move on. But, he couldn't focus on that now. Not when Trevor was still feasting on unsuspecting young ladies.
"So, I have your promise? You will no longer bend rules to match your situation then?" Donna paused, waiting for his promise of compliance.
"I can't promise you that," Drake declared honestly. "Felons twist, bend and break rules constantly. If necessary, I'll play the game their way."
"I am well aware of how crimes are committed, Chief. However, the fact that we follow rules separates us from them." She was breathing fire.
"But, one could argue that in itself is the biggest advantage criminals have over the rest of the population," he offered. His eyes danced as he waited for the inevitable explosion. He didn't have long to wait.
"So, now we are living in the eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth era, are we?" Her pulse was visibly jumping at the side of her throat. Her fingers were spread wide upon the table. She fought the temptation to throttle him.
"Why don't we discuss this over dinner?" Drake couldn't resist asking.
Donna was startled. A dinner invitation was the last thing on her mind.
"What will we be discussing?"