Page 42 of Princess Fallen

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“To be honest, I see a lot of people during the day.”

“Oh?”

“Some days more than others.Today has been a busy day.”

I peek past her.A couple people are playing the slots.Most of the tables are empty.Doesn’t look too busy to me.

I smile.

Gotcha.

It’s an act.If she truly let me in and didn’t remember, she’d be a lot more upset than she is now.Maybe fearing the loss of her job.

No fear is coming from her at all.

Vampires aren’t great at sensing emotion—except for fear.And lust.

Perhaps Heidi doesn’t care about her job.Or perhaps she’s under some kind of trance or thrall.

But I doubt it.

“What’s your name?”I ask.

“You know what it is.You just said it.Heidi.”

I stare intently into her blue eyes.“What’s your name?”

“Heidi.”

My glamour isn’t affecting her.No glassy eyes.No sweat forming at her hairline.Funny I didn’t notice any of this the first time, but all I was thinking about was getting through her to get to Rogan.

“Is Mr.Rogan in his office?”

“I haven’t seen him,” Heidi says.

“Thanks.”I grin.“You’ve been a big help.”

A dazzling smile splits her face.“You’re very welcome.Have a wonderful day at The London.”

One demon accounted for.

I walk away from the high stakes area and toward the bar in the center of the casino where I ordered the glass of wine last night.The bartender—a hunky guy with a bald head and ripped shoulders and arms—isn’t there.Not surprising.He obviously works a night shift.

I’ll be back.

I head out of the casino to the concierge’s desk, but the young woman I spoke to earlier isn’t there.

I’ll be back.

I walk through the lobby and out the doors onto the strip.A few blocks later, I’m back in the alleyway where I was attacked.Time to take a closer look.

Except the scent of Rogan overwhelms me.Even though it’s been hours, his fragrance still lingers.I can’t help inhaling the piney musk of him.My gums begin to tingle.I have no need to feed.Not enough time has passed for the blood lust to consume me, but…

I lean against a building, rub my upper arms to stave off the impending hunger.I slide down, the brick snagging my tank top, until I’m sitting, my knees raised and touching my chin.

Inhale.Exhale.Inhale again.

Slowly, the lust dissipates, though Rogan’s scent does not.Would it be this strong from last night?


Tags: Helen Hardt Paranormal