Page 48 of My Boyfriend Bites

“Crew members that happened to serve on those other ships despite them belonging to different lines. Not unheard of, after all, staff can relocate, but the same three in all four cases was too much of a coincidence.”

“Is one of them the killer?”

“Doubtful. When I questioned them, they were all simple-minded enough to be influenced, and none had any informationthat would make me suspicious of them beyond their involvement in helping the pirates coordinate their robbery.”

“So the killer is a passenger?”

“That seems unlikely, too,” he admitted. “Renard ran the manifests against each other. None of them showed duplicates.”

“Could be they used a fake alias,” she pointed out.

“Hence why he also double-checked the passports. The cruise lines keep a copy that includes a current image of the passenger as they board.”

She went silent as they began climbing the exterior stairs rather than go inside and through the ship, where passengers still panicked at the lack of power.

“Is there a way to figure out who on board hasn’t ventured into the sun, like you?” She glanced at him before muttering, “Still can’t believe I fell for the allergy story.”

His lips quirked. “I’m afraid that is the one thing that gives me away. At least it’s become common enough among humans that I no longer stand out as much.”

“Who made you?” her next blurted-out question.

“My mother.”

“Is that what you call your maker?”

His laughter sounded out of place given the situation, but she appreciated it. “I was born. Just like you. The difference being my mom is a vampire. As was her father. And his father before him.”

“So if you bite someone or exchange blood, what happens?”

“My bite tends to soothe, something you might recall from earlier,” he teased.

“It calmed my wolf,” she admitted. “But in a way that let me still feel, unlike the drugs, although I will say I am not impressed you tried to eat me.”

Again, he chuckled. “I barely tasted you. That nip was only to help you retain control. I would never feed from a paramour.”

“Why not?”

“Because lovers aren’t food.”

“What about Renard?”

“Also not on the menu, although he does get regular doses of my blood. And before you ask, it helps him. He was a sickly teen when I found him, undernourished, abused, and prone to maladies until I began supplementing. It gave him strength and also extends his lifespan.”

“You’re immortal?”

“Hardly. But I will be long-lived.”

“How long?”

“Not centuries, if that’s what you’re wondering. My grandfather recently celebrated his 140th birthday, but you’d swear he was in his fifties. My mother is in her nineties but could pass for late twenties.”

“How old are you?” she asked.

“What age do you think?”

“Somewhere in your thirties.”

“Close. I’m sixty-two.”

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