Part 32 (2/2)

”Dawn,” he said again, ragged and excited.

”I came to you,” she said, dragging her lower teeth against his throat. ”Just like you wanted-willing and ready.”

He tasted so good; warm against her tongue, with that tinge of spice...

When he buried a hand in her hair, she knew she had him. As the siren filled her ears from around the corner-a place of refuge and safety only a few steps away-she bit into him, making him grunt and dig his fingers into both of her arms. As she gasped, he lifted his hands in apology for getting carried away.

But she didn't care. She bolted him against the wall with the plane of her left arm, then slipped that hand toward his back to arch him against her. Her bent cravings were proof that he really was like all the other men she'd been with-conquerable, easy to leave behind.

But then her fingers found something unexpected at his spine, something that felt like a blade in a sheath.

Whip quick, he grabbed her hand, then glared at her, his blue eyes full of wrath.”That's enough,” he said.

At his rejection, she didn't feel anything. She'd already closed herself off from giving a c.r.a.p. That's how prepared for his d.a.m.ned chivalry she was.

”You get a rise out of taunting me?” she asked. ”What was back there, Matt? What's-”

As she reached for his spine, he maneuvered out of position. Within a few breaths, he'd regained the composure of the gentleman she'd come to expect...and resent.

The struggle of regret had fallen over his features, softening them, making him look like he'd gone thirteen rounds and lost in the end.

”This isn't the way I want it.” His laugh was serrated. ”I don't know-maybe I'm the only guy left on earth who needs something meaningful, but I'm not going to change. Instead, I'll wait. And if I'm waiting into next week, next month, next year, I'll do it.”

”You're nuts. You've known me for, like, what, a couple of days? And-”

”I know you better than you can ever imagine.”

She froze. ”What?”

Laughing dryly, he rested his hands on his hips. ”I mean I've had access to files, Dawn. I've done surveillance on you, watched your films, talked to people you've known. And, bit by bit, I...I liked what I found.”

Another ambulance siren shot through the night with red panic. Dawn felt the wail in her veins.

”That sounds bad,” Matt said, shaking his head in embarra.s.sment. ”d.a.m.n, the last thing I want to do is scare you.”

Was she scared? Or was he truly the most dangerous man she'd ever known?

The vibration of her phone shook her.

Thankful for the interruption, she answered it, turning her back on him, wanting to talk about this now while not really wanting to.

”h.e.l.lo?”

”Where are you? Are you okay?” It was Breisi.

”I'm just outside the exit.” As Dawn walked into view again, she looked over her shoulder, preparing to make her apologies to Matt.

But he wasn't there. Gone.Pffft.

Scanning around and finding no sign of the PI, Dawn turned toward the entrance where Breisi was standing.

She tucked away her phone, hands shaking. Where had he gone? Now that he'd made that confession, it seemed more important than ever to keep tabs on him. She wasn't sure if that was because he'd unsettled her or turned her on. G.o.d, she was a sick pup.

Really.

Jerking her head toward the parking lot, Breisi said, ”Let's go.”

”Where?”

She was already heading for the car. ”Robby came home.” TWENTY-FIVE ANOTHERRISING.

AT3:15AMPacific Time, an Internet broadcast aired to an audience of millions. TV executives would have died for numbers like that.

But Tamsin Greene actuallydid.

Worldwide, screens revealed the beautiful, ultra-famous woman who had recorded her first CD at age fifteen. Her voice had been hailed by critics and fans alike, her star shooting into the night sky so rapidly that films had followed, as had champagne-filled hot tubs, Grammy and MTV Video Music Awards, and a thousand fan sites devoted to her majesty.

Now, at twenty-six, Tamsin was still perfection. Her skin was smooth and dark, her eyes almond-shaped and almost black in hue.

Her midnight-dark hair was short, sophisticated, and seductive, revealing a lovely nape and curls gelled to the skin of her sloped cheekbones.

As she sat in front of a computer camera in what was obviously her plush,InStylebedroom, Tamsin allowed the tears to fall. She was wearing a creamy satin sheath. A candle burned next to her, making her sadness gleam. Her newest CD, released three days ago, emoted softly in the background.

”Before I start, I want to thank my fans, especially if you ever came to my website to check up on me. I love each and every one of you sincerely, truly, deeply.” She looked down, toyed with something off-screen. ”And if you really love me, you'll tune out now, understand? But if you're one of those people who slows down on freeways to get a good look at an accident, then stay where you are, because you're the reason I'm doing this.”

She held up a scalpel. It snapped like a deadly bite in the candlelight. Her voice took on the same edge.

”I'm talking to you, the paparazzi. You chased me with cameras. You made me less than human. Yes, I knew what I was getting into when I started in show business, but I never realized it would ruin my life. So in honor of you, the sc.u.m of the industry, I'm going to do something that'll make you hate me for all time. No exclusive pictures, no more hunting me down the streets and to the gates of my house in your cars just for a picture. You can gape all you want now, but you won't profit from it.”

She got up, took the candle. With her trademark grace-like sand rolling over itself in a soft wind-she moved to her bed and set it on fire. As flames licked at the comforter, she returned to her seat.

”This is a condemnation of what the media has become, and I hope when you leeches watch this, you'll realize what kind of damage you did to me and to many other celebrities. And in your quest for a taste of fame, I hope a little part of you dies right along with me.”

The fire spread.

She held up the scalpel, paused, then smiled, her lips quivering as her dark eyes overflowed with tears.

The flames whooshed, gaining in destruction, eating their way around the room.

”As for the rest of you, I love you. Remember that. Bless you all.”

Then, with fluid violence, she slit her throat, the skin yawning open as blood gushed downward.

Tamsin Greene gurgled, clutched at the computer camera in tragic appeal, then slumped to the floor, ripping the camera from its holder. On computer screens all over the world, the blurred image trailed her fall, completing the awful arch of a swan song as she crashed to her death.For several horrifyingly peaceful moments afterward, the stoic eye of the lens recorded the fire as it grew, as it swallowed everything in view, as it obliterated her home.

As it continued to record the blood-curdling last moments of a beloved star's mortal life.

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