"He's traveling north. Three blocks to your left. Move your ass, Anthony! A crowd just left the theater and he's headed right toward them!"

Anthony responded to the words spoken from the earpiece communicator directly linked to his boss, Sudsy Waters. For the past twenty years they had been keeping the streets of Las Vegas safe from vampiric crime. Tonight they dealt with a special case. The man they tracked wasn't a criminal, but a victim. Yet that made him no less dangerous.

Turning sharply down a side alley, Anthony hoped tonight's chase wouldn't end in death -- not for himself, the man he chased or any unsuspecting humans. Two hundred and twenty years ago, Anthony had brought Patrick into the world of vampires. He'd loved him then and he loved him now, despite their differences.

He had expected their paths to cross again, but not under such horrible circumstances.

"Anthony, do you read me?" Sudsy said.

"I'm cutting him off," Anthony said curtly. He needed to save his breath for the sprint that he hoped would send him directly into Patrick's path.

He reached the main road and a black-garbed, blond-haired figure rushed past him. Growling, Anthony leapt onto Patrick's back and knocked him onto the pavement.

Heat emanated from Patrick's lean body and his relentless screams struck at Anthony's heart. At this point the agony of blood deprivation must be unendurable. Patrick's steely muscles strained against his Creator's death grip. Jabbing backward with an elbow, he cracked Anthony's ribs.

Anthony grunted in pain, but refused to loosen his hold. Unless backup arrived soon, he wouldn't be able to restrain Patrick much longer. The madness that had overtaken him made him as savage and deadly as a wounded animal. He would kill his Creator -- or anyone else -- without hesitation.

Vampires deprived of blood to the point of starvation went mad in the final hours before death. The madness drove them to find sustenance, to survive at any cost.

The sound of boots on pavement preceded Sudsy's arrival. The tall, ebony-skinned vampire dropped to his knees by the struggling pair, pulled out a needle and injected Patrick with the anesthetic.

Within seconds, Patrick stopped fighting and lapsed into unconsciousness. Panting, Anthony moved aside and rolled Patrick onto his back. An indescribable feeling darted through him. Patrick's wide set eyes were closed, but Anthony knew them to be gray. His square jaw, usually smooth shaven, was covered in a golden beard, the result of his captivity by the new reign of vampires bent on conquering the world.

Many good vampires had already been killed in this war. Anthony had buried friends, but had so far been spared the pain of losing a blood child.

"You're not going to lose him either," Sudsy said, having read Anthony's mind.

Brushing tendrils of damp hair from Patrick's handsome face, Anthony nodded, not trusting himself to speak at the moment.

A long black car with tinted windows screeched to a halt nearby and Sudsy's boyfriend, Julian, glanced out the window.

Anthony lifted Patrick and carried him to the car. Sudsy held the door open and once Anthony and Patrick were safe in the back seat, he took his place in the front.

"How long before he regains consciousness?" Anthony asked, supporting Patrick. The blond's head rested against his shoulder, reminding Anthony of times when they'd held each other close. No matter how many years had passed, he'd never forgotten Patrick's scent, or the feel of his tall, strong body. Every morning when he drifted to sleep, he recalled the intensity of Patrick's eyes and the passion of his kiss.

"Tyler said he should be out for a couple of hours," Sudsy replied and glanced over his shoulder. "Don't worry, my friend. When he wakes he'll once again be the man you remember."

A faint, bittersweet smile tugged at Anthony's solemn mouth. The man he remembered was the most stubborn, fierce, insufferable, courageous, beautiful lover he'd had in eight hundred years of living.