Maslow's Needs Read online

  Praise for the writing of Sheri Gilmore

  One Thing Leads To Another

  This is an erotic, fast-paced thriller that starts off with a bang from page one. Rose is about ten years older than Nathan, which was one of the reasons why he’s been off limits to her, but imagine her surprise when she learns he’s desired her all along. Nathan is one sexy, dominant man, and his expert tutelage of Rose in the art of sex and bondage is thrilling to read… Run out and grab this one up!

  -- Barb Chan, Just Erotic Romance Reviews

  Wow! This one is so hot you may need to keep a fire extinguisher handy to put out the

  flames. A stimulating and suspenseful read, this story is well developed and expertly

  delivered. The characters are so real you expect to look up and see them standing next

  to you.

  -- Keely Skillman, Coffee Time Romance

  Combustible chemistry between the hero and heroine right from the start, deadly secrets in the background and lots of hot sex throughout. One Thing Leads to Another is explosive and makes you want more.

  -- Treva Harte, author of Why Me? (Loose Id)

  A spunky heroine like Rose is just what Nathan needs as he struggles with his torments and private hell. I laughed and cried with them from the first page until the last.

  -- Kai Andersen, author of Tales of Enchantment 1: The Question of Royalty (Loose Id)

  One Thing Leads To Another is now available from Loose Id.

  MASLOW’S NEEDS

  Sheri Gilmore

  www.loose-id.com

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  * * * * *

  This book is rated:

  For substantial explicit sexual content, graphic language, some violence and situations that some readers may find objectionable.

  Maslow’s Needs

  Sheri Gilmore

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Published by

  Loose Id LLC

  1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-29

  Carson City NV 89701-1215

  www.loose-id.com

  Copyright © April 2005 by Sheri Gilmore

  Excerpt of Desert Moon: Ah-ten copyright March 2005 by Alicia Sparks

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.

  ISBN 1-59632-086-9

  Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader

  Printed in the United States of America

  Editor: Maryam Salim

  Cover Artist: Jet Mykles

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to thank two very special men in New York City’s goth community, who have helped me tremendously with my research into vampires, the goth lifestyle, and the occult in general.

  First, John Coughlin, the Dark Wyccan. He is an author and collector of gothic/occult books and is considered to be a leader in the goth community. His websites and writings touch on various occult subjects, including the ethics of witchcraft. I consider John my first teacher in the occult and my friend. Thanks for being patient with me and my continuous flow of questions regarding the occult and gothic lifestyle. Thanks, especially, for starting VampirePersonals to help find me a vampire penpal! John’s book Out of the Shadows: An Exploration of Dark Paganism and Magick can be found at http://www.waningmoon.com, along with his VampirePersonals site and his Gothic Nails site ‑‑ very erotic and useful information. Thanks, John!

  Second, but no less valuable, Konstantinos. Thank you for your books that deal with the occult and dark magick, and for letting me use you as a character (yourself) in this book. The story wouldn’t have been the same without you, and I appreciate your insights very much. Konstantinos is an author of numerous occult books, a trained mentalist, and is a musician of the goth-rock genre. His website is http://www.konstantinos.com. You can order all his books there, especially: Vampires: The Occult Truth; Nocturnal Witchcraft: Magick After Dark; and Gothic Grimoire, which I used as research material for this book.

  Again, I thank you. Both of you have left a lasting impression on me. John explains to me the “why,” while Konstantinos showed me the “how.” I truly consider you to be my friends, and I hope I get the opportunity to meet both of you in person one day.

  Sheri

  Chapter One

  “Okay, he’s agreed to meet with us.”

  “What time?” The pause that followed Detective Jessica Tanner’s question lingered. She glanced at the man in the driver’s seat, Detective Kyle Bishop.

  He looked at his partner beside him, who nodded then looked out the passenger side window of their unmarked car. Kyle turned back to her. “Midnight.”

  “Well, that just fucking figures.” Jessica rolled her gaze to the ceiling of the car and back down to the New York City night outside her window. Steam circled from the exhaust pipe around the front of the car. People hurried along the sidewalk, huddled against the bite of the cold. At least it hadn’t snowed since she’d been here, although several puddles of water lay scattered across the pavement and concrete, frozen from the freezing temps and recent rain.

  She shivered and glanced at the illuminated face of her watch. Pursing her lips and shoving her hand into her coat, she slid further down into the seat. She might as well get comfortable. They had another half hour before they could get inside the club and interview the manager, Drayden Maslow. If he turned out not to be one of her prime suspects, then he had information on who probably needed to be. She kicked the back of Kyle’s seat with her boot.

  “Why do we have to wait? We’re the police. They’re the civilians.”

  Jessi’s gaze narrowed on Kyle when he looked at his partner again. Joe Selenka turned in his seat to face her. She tried to keep the expression on her face neutral. Everything she’d heard about the guy indicated he was a “good” cop, but her instincts told her not to trust him too far. Beady eyes glittered close together in his wide, fleshy face. A thin, black moustache completed his sleazebag look.

  She looked him in the eye and did her best not to shudder. She was a long way from home, and her instincts were all she had to keep her balanced with this case. She’d uncovered some strange clues and couldn’t decide if they were the real thing.

  “With this particular ... community, Detective, we try to follow their customs as much as possible. These people are very closemouthed when it comes to outsiders.”

  Her chin lifted. “Does that include letting a killer go free?”

  “Now, look here ‑‑”

  “Hey, guys, guys ‑‑” Kyle slapped Joe in the shoulder. “‑‑ he’s here.”

  Jessi looked up in time to see four men exit a dark four-door sedan. All were dressed in black leather coats of various lengths. Two were wearing sunglasses even though the time neared midnight. One stood out from the others, and a chill settled at the base of her spine. She knew he was her man.

  Over six feet tall, he walked with a long-legged grace she associated with predators. His hair, falling past broad shoulders, gleamed dark in the
light from the streetlamp. The coat he wore covered most of his body, but she could envision a taut, muscular build beneath the leather garment. There wouldn’t be any spare fat on this guy. The overall package indicated a lean, mean individual in both physique and mind.

  “There’s our guy.” Joe grinned. “Buncha freaks.”

  Jessi raised an eyebrow. Her scant research had indicated a variety of diverse personalities in this community. They definitely weren’t what society considered the norm, but “freak” didn’t quite apply. “Makes you feel right at home, huh, Joe?”

  Jessi opened her door and stepped into the cold.

  Joe followed, slamming his door with enough force to shake the car. “You fuckin’ bitch! I’ve had all I can stand of your mouth.”

  He came around the front of the car, his finger pointing in her face. Jessi registered the interest of the four men they had observed seconds earlier. She groaned, inwardly, at her lack of control and knew she shouldn’t have pushed Joe so far. On the verge of apologizing to him, her words were cut short when he grabbed the front of her jacket and swung her around to slam her back against the vehicle.

  “I’m gonna teach you what we do to smart-ass women up here.”

  Air whooshed from her lungs. In her peripheral vision she saw her suspect move toward them. Jeez, that was all she needed. She took a deep breath and brought her knee up into Joe’s crotch, sending him down to the ground with a yell of agony.

  She stumbled forward as his hands kept a grasp on her coat. “Let go, dammit!”

  “You ... motherless ... whore ... you’re gonna pay for that.” His hands tightened, choking her, and he pulled himself up, using her body as a support.

  Jessi knew he’d take a swing at her as soon as his feet found purchase on the slick concrete. She took a step back, then dropped, her weight pulling her down. Before she hit the pavement, she swung her right leg out and around to catch Joe behind the ankles, knocking him flat on his back. Air wheezed from his lungs and he clutched his chest, gasping for breath.

  Jessi stood, took a couple of steps back, and dropped her hands to her knees. Looking down at the sidewalk, she took some deep breaths. A pair of black combat boots came into view, but she didn’t have the strength at the moment to look up.

  “Nice moves.” The voice, deep and rich, skittered down her spine. The New York accent blended with another cadence she couldn’t recognize. “I was going to offer some assistance, but you seem to have the situation under control ... Miss ...”

  Jessi’s laugh came out a bark. Her throat burned with the need for oxygen after her skirmish. She raised her head to find a lean hand extended to her, spiked with long black fingernails. She shivered and ignored the offer. She didn’t want to know what the touch of his fingers against hers felt like, but imagined a warm, firm grip heightened by the scrape of those lethal nails. She glanced up.

  Awareness flashed between them as dark eyes assessed her. Jessi straightened.

  “Tanner. Detective Tanner.” She watched a muscle tighten along his jaw.

  “Ah, yes.” His fingers clenched into a fist a fraction of a second before he let his hand drop. “I believe you have some questions for me.” He turned his body toward the adjacent building; he flicked a glance at Joe, then Kyle, who knelt beside his partner. His mouth quirked in a brief semblance of a grin, then returned to an expressionless mask when he looked back at her. “Follow me.”

  Kyle helped Joe up with an arm around his waist. Joe limped past her. The murderous look he threw her way could have melted stone. If he’d been trying to scare her, he hadn’t succeeded.

  She wasn’t frightened of Joe Selenka. She stuffed her hands into her pockets and stared at the retreating back of the man she’d come to question, striding several yards in front of the group. She’d seen scarier things than Joe over the last several months, and the man in black leather, with the intense stare, was one of them.

  * * * * *

  Detective Tanner. Drayden drummed his fingers against the top of his desk. Normally, it didn’t faze him at all when people avoided touching him, but her obvious disgust at his manicure irritated him. What made it worse was that he didn’t know why it irritated him!

  He watched the two male police officers enter and sit while their female counterpart squeezed through his men. Once she stood inside the room, he waved his soldiers away. He scanned the three from beneath his lashes, but didn’t consider any of them to be a threat. His gaze traveled over her long legs, pausing a second at the juncture of her thighs and hips. He wondered if she moved in bed as well as she had on the street.

  “Why don’t you take a picture? It’ll last longer.”

  He smiled. Spunky. He liked that and her southern accent, slow and husky. He sat back and let his gaze cruise lazily over her again.

  Medium height, athletic build, perky breasts ‑‑ there wasn’t much about the woman in front of him that he found lacking. She’d look better in leather than denim, but that could be remedied easily enough. He glanced at her face.

  Her eyebrow cocked in question, daring him to deny his perusal. She didn’t wear makeup, but didn’t need to with her full lips, high cheekbones, and clear skin. Her hair, a deep chestnut color, was pulled into a ponytail at the base of her neck. Drayden had the sudden urge to pull the thick mass loose and run his fingers through the silky strands. His fingers tightened on the arm of the chair.

  “That won’t be necessary. I have a photographic memory.” He tapped his temple with his forefinger, surveying her reaction to his fingernails once again. “You’re forever imprinted on my mind.”

  A faint pink color tinged her cheeks, but her eyes were what caught his attention. The clear green irises had flashed irritation and distrust, but her gaze had followed the path of his fingernail, widening with a spark of desire, while her nostrils had quivered with the tiniest show of excitement.

  The tingle in the back of his neck intensified. He shifted his chair closer to the desk. No sense in letting her see she aroused him, especially with an audience present.

  “What can I do for you?”

  The older officer leaned forward with a grimace of pain and offered his card.

  Good. Drayden would have hurt him a lot worse than the woman had if he’d gotten hold of him. Abusing a woman or a child were two things he couldn’t abide.

  “Detective Selenka, Mr. Maslow, and this is my partner, Detective Bishop. You’ve already met Detective Tanner from the Hattiesburg Police Department in Mississippi.”

  Drayden’s eyebrow rose. “Mississippi?” His eyes flicked over her again. That explained the accent, but not why she was here in New York City. He’d heard rumors recently ‑‑

  “I’m investigating a murder that happened outside Hattiesburg a few months ago, Mr. Maslow, that my department feels is tied to your ... community.”

  He heard the hesitation, the doubt, but she didn’t lower her gaze.

  “In what way?”

  “A young woman was found dead in a warehouse that had been used for a party.”

  She stepped forward and placed a picture on his desk. The lifeless eyes of a woman in her mid-twenties stared back at him. From the clothing scattered around her body and the chains around her wrists, she appeared to be involved in the BDSM scene, goth scene, vampire scene, or all three.

  A black leather collar circled her throat, while her lips were smeared with black lipstick. Multiple piercings decorated her ears, eyebrow, and nipples. She lay nude on a concrete floor except for her thigh-high black leather boots. Her position and the bruises on her inner thighs and abdomen supported his suspicion that she’d been raped, before and during the time she’d been bled to death. Spatters of her blood lay on the floor around her and on her neck, arms, and breasts.

  A red-hot rage burned through his gut. This senseless waste of a human life was the very reason “normal” society would never accept his kind. The very reason his kind had to hide behind a veil of secrecy and the absurd fantasies Hollywood
had built over the years. He swallowed his anger, ignoring the twitching muscle in his jaw, and pushed the photo back across the desk to Detective Tanner.

  “I’ve never seen her before.”

  The younger male shifted forward. “Uh, we know that, but we wondered if you might have an idea who could have done this?”

  Drayden cocked his head to the side and spread his hands wide. “Why would I know anything?”

  A sound of disbelief escaped Detective Tanner. “Let’s cut the crap.” She pointed her finger at him. Her eyes narrowed, and the flush on her cheeks couldn’t be mistaken for anything but anger. Her entire body shimmered with the emotion, and Drayden could only wonder why she took this murder so personally.

  “Jessi ‑‑”

  Jessi. The name suited the feisty woman in front of him.

  “Don’t Jessi me, Kyle. If he doesn’t know anything, then he knows who does.” She planted both hands on his desk and leaned down to his level. “This ... girl ... was killed by someone pretending to be some kind of vampire. We know and you know that there was a large festival in New Orleans around Halloween.”

  “Still, what does that have to do with me?”

  He watched her chest rise beneath her sweater in agitation. “Our source tells us a group of people claiming to be from your house came down to New Orleans and left with another, smaller group heading back to Hattiesburg. So are you going to help us find the killer, or not?”

  Drayden shook the tingle of her psychic energy from his mind and focused on her accusation. He shoved his need for sustenance aside. His primary concern had to be the protection and safety of his people. He leaned an elbow on his desk to bring him closer to her. “I’m not aware of any vampires in Mississippi, or anywhere else, Detective. I can’t help you.”