Valhalla was the stuff of myths.

Named for the home of the Norse gods, the sprawling compound was a safe house for those people too “special” to be mainstreamed into society (a nice way of saying an orphanage for the children and adults unwanted by their families). Everyone knew that it was a home for freaks.

Witches, psychics, necromancers, Sentinels, and God only knew what else roamed the grounds protected by a layer of powerful spells. It was a source of fear and fascination for the entire world, but most especially for the citizens of the small, Midwest town who could catch the shimmer of blue reflecting off the protective dome that hid the house from view. And even glimpse the rare sight of the freaks entering and leaving the compound, although people were smart enough to spy on them from a distance.

There were, of course, citizens who called for the entire place to be nuked.

The freaks were dangerous, with powers that none of them truly understood. Who knew what the monsters would do if someone pissed them off?

There were others who said they should be locked away and studied like lab rats. Perhaps their mutations could be used to help normal people.

Most, however, preferred to ignore Valhalla and the high-bloods—as they preferred to be called—living behind the dome.

Until, of course, they needed them.

The nightclub near the University of Missouri wasn’t anything to brag about. Hell, it wasn’t much more than a leaking roof held up by four walls and a prayer. In the center was a cramped dance floor surrounded by tables and at the back a long bar ran the length of the wall. Up the narrow staircase you could find pool tables and a few old-time pinball machines, while in the back parking lot the dealers strolled from car to car, searching for shoppers interested in less legal means of intoxication.

A typical college hangout.

Seated in a booth nearly obscured by shadows, Angela Locke watched the crowd of college students bump and grind to a heavy beat that was making her eye twitch.

Not that she wasn’t enjoying herself, she sternly chided herself. She might be a few years older than most of the kids in the club, but that didn’t mean she was a complete party pooper. Right?

On cue she winced as two girls shrieked with laughter at a nearby table, the aggravating sound some sort of homing signal to the guys who eagerly crowded around their table.

Okay, this wasn’t really her scene.

She’d spent the majority of her twenty-six years in musty libraries or high-tech labs, which meant she was more comfortable with petri dishes and microscopes than the opposite sex.

Her dark thoughts were interrupted as she belatedly realized she was no longer alone.

Glancing up, she met Megan Wagner’s exasperated frown. The pretty, pleasantly rounded blonde was one of Angela’s few friends at the university. In the process of recovering from a disastrous marriage, the older woman was taking classes to earn her teaching degree.

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Megan complained. “I didn’t bring you here to hide in the corner.”

Angela wrinkled her nose. “I’d rather hide in corners than park myself in the spotlight where everyone can see me sitting alone.”

Megan folded her arms under her ample bosom, her lush curves displayed in a tight red dress and her blonde curls allowed to fall freely over her shoulders.

“You wouldn’t be alone if you didn’t put out vibes that you’re—”

“A geek? A nerd? A first-class egghead?” Angela offered wryly.

“Unavailable.”

“Are you kidding?” Angela shot a glance down at her jade stretchy top that was scooped low enough to reveal the soft curve of her breasts and the too-tight jeans that threatened her circulation. “In this outfit I not only look available, I look like I charge by the hour.”

“It’s not your clothes. It’s your attitude.”

Angela blinked. Attitude? She didn’t know she had an attitude.

“What do you want me to do?”

Megan placed her hands flat on the table, eying Angela with the same stern expression she used on her students at the local preschool.

“Pay attention to the men who are here, not the one who isn’t.”

Angela tried to squelch the renegade blush that stole beneath her cheeks.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean that it’s all fine and dandy to moon over Professor Hottie, but what’s it gotten you?” A blonde brow arched. “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me?”

Angela ducked her head, allowing her finger to trace the beads of moisture that trickled down her untouched drink.

Professor Hottie.

Or, better known as Dr. Nikolo Bartrev.

He’d arrived at the university six weeks before. A tall, dark stranger who’d been invited by the president to review their science curriculum. Angela didn’t know precisely what his work entailed, but she did know that one glance into those pale blue eyes and she’d been lost.

Head over heels in lust for the first time in her life.

A damned shame he didn’t return her aching need.

“There’s nothing to tell,” she muttered.

“And that’s the point,” Megan pressed. “He stops by your lab once a day—”

“Sometimes it’s twice.”

Megan snorted. “He makes a little chitchat and disappears.”

Angela hunched a shoulder. It was true enough.

The first time Dr. Bartrev had strolled into her lab she’d nearly had a heart attack. She’d just finished teaching a freshman biology class and he’d waited for the giggling girls to drag themselves past him before he slowly approached her desk.

She hadn’t known what to expect, but after a few minutes of questioning her about her research, he’d turned and left.

Just like that.

Since that day, he’d made a habit of stopping by when she was in the lab, sometimes discussing her research and other times just randomly discussing her day.

She assumed that he was cleverly extracting information from her to use in his assessment, but she didn’t have a clue what he was searching for.

And she didn’t care.

His fleeting visits were enough to make her giddy for the rest of the day.

“So?” she muttered.

“Has he ever revealed anything remotely personal about himself?”

Angela grimaced. After six weeks she didn’t know a damned thing about the man.

Well, she knew the precise scent of his warm male cologne. And the way his cashmere sweaters stretched over a wide chest and how his pants clung to his tight ass.

But anything about the man beneath the gorgeous exterior? Nothing. Nada. Niente.

“No.”

“Has he ever asked you out, even to lunch?”

“No.”

“Has he ever brought you anything? Flowers, candy, a bagel from the cafeteria?”

“No.”

“Has he tried to get his hand down your shirt?”

“No.”

Megan heaved a sigh. “Honey, that man ain’t interested, no matter how much you might want him to be.”

Angela lifted her head to meet her friend’s sympathetic gaze. “I know.”

The blonde grabbed the plastic sword that held a candied cherry from Angela’s glass.

“Then drink your gin fizz and give that nice stud muffin by the door a big smile.” She pointed the sword toward the delectable blond Neanderthal standing across the dance floor. “And remember—”

“Remember what?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Angela rolled her eyes. She had a mirror. She might not be the Bride of Frankenstein, but she was a long way from beautiful.

Average brown hair she kept in a ponytail. Average height with average curves. Average features that were pale from the hours she spent in the lab.

The only thing remarkable was the wide brown eyes that were heavily framed with dark lashes, but most of the time they were hidden behind her protective lab glasses.

In summation she was . . . average.

“It’s going to take more than one gin fizz to make me believe in fairy tales,” she retorted.

“Maybe a kiss will wake you, Sleeping Beauty.” Megan waggled her brows. “She was, after all, the first true wallflower.”

Angela gave a choked laugh. Her friend charged through life at full throttle.

“I wish I could be like you, Megan,” she said wistfully, thinking of all the nights she sat in her cramped apartment alone.

Always alone.

“Yeah, right,” Megan scoffed. “You’re a genius who’s only weeks away from receiving your PhD in molecular biology and I’m trying to struggle through my undergraduate degree.”

Angela shook her head. Because of finances Megan was forced to take night classes while she worked full-time, but there was no doubt her love for children would allow her to achieve her goals.

“You know you’re a fabulous teacher, not to mention . . .” Angela’s comforting words dissolved into a silent shock as her heart slammed against her ribs.

Oh hell.

“Hey, that was just getting good,” Megan grumbled. Then, noticing that Angela’s attention had strayed, she frowned in confusion. “What’s wrong? Did Professor Lewis get drunk again and take off his pants?”

Angela reached for her glass to take a deep drink of the gin fizz.

“He’s here.”

“Who?”

“Niko.” She grimaced as the overly sweet drink hit her empty stomach. “I mean, Professor—”

“Hottie?”

“Yep.”

Helplessly she watched his determined approach.

Oh . . . crap, but he was gorgeous. From the tip of his glossy dark hair that was threaded with hints of autumn fire and tousled as if he’d just run his hands through the short strands, to the tips of his Italian shoes.

His lean face was perfectly carved with a wide brow and narrow nose. His cheekbones were angular, hinting at his Slavic origins, and his jaw surprisingly stubborn with just a shadow of stubble from his heavy beard.

He wasn’t by any stretch of the imagination “pretty.” His features were too hard, too ruthless, for that. But there was something compellingly beautiful about his sheer maleness, and when he offered one of his rare smiles . . . well, there wasn’t a female on campus who didn’t do a little melting.

He was dark and broody and delectable. The sort of man who haunted the fantasies of every repressed virgin.

And if she’d caught sight of a menacing glint in the piercing blue eyes that spoke of hidden power and predatory danger, well, she’d convinced herself that it only made him more exciting.

“Okay, I have to admit he is lickable,” Megan grudgingly conceded, glancing over her shoulder. “Like a double-fudge ice cream cone.”

“Megan,” Angela protested, although she couldn’t deny the desire to tug off his blue sweater and gray Chinos to do a bit of tongue therapy.

Megan turned back to stab her with a warning gaze. “He’s also gay or married.”

Angela’s eyes widened. “How do you know?”

“Because he hasn’t tried to get you in bed.” Megan leaned toward her. “Don’t let him ruin your night.”

With a tug on Angela’s hair, that was for once left to brush her shoulders, Megan was disappearing toward the bar, leaving Angela alone to face the man now towering beside her table.

“Hello, Angela,” he greeted, his voice a dark velvet rasp that sent renegade shivers of excitement down her spine.

Oh . . . crap.

She licked her dry lips, trying to squash the embarrassing thrills of excitement.

“Dr. Bartrev,” she breathed, her voice barely audible over the music blasting from the overhead speakers.

With a fluid ease, he perched on the edge of the table, his hard thigh brushing her arm.

“I thought we agreed to Niko?”

Yeah. She was so not going down that road.

He was Niko in her fantasies. In real life . . . well, she needed to avoid making an idiot of herself.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said instead.

“I could say the same.” His brooding gaze shifted to the surrounding crowd that was amping up the loud factor with every round of tequila. “This isn’t your usual style.”

She shrugged. “Megan convinced me this was my last chance to get out and party before everyone leaves for spring break.”

“Ah.” The piercing blue eyes returned to study her upturned face. Angela shivered beneath the sheer intensity of that gaze. He had an uncanny habit of appearing completely focused on whatever he was doing. “A girls’ night out.”

“Something like that.” She managed a smile. Play it cool, Angela. It’s not attractive to drool all over the handsome professor. “What are you doing here?”

“Actually, I was concerned.”

She stiffened. “Concerned?”

“Yes.”

“Why?” She sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly struck by a terrifying thought. “Is there something wrong with my research?”

“Your work is flawless. As always,” he swiftly eased her fear, a strange edge in his voice although she was too relieved to notice. “It’s something we’ll discuss later.”

“Then what is it?”

He hesitated, almost as if considering his words.

“I heard rumors there was a stalker in the area.”

“A stalker?” She blinked in surprise. The small Midwest town had its share of petty crime, but violence was extremely rare. “In town or on campus?”

“The person has been seen on campus as well as in the surrounding neighborhoods.”

“I haven’t heard anything. Have the police been notified?”

“Of course.” His gaze swept down to her breasts that were on blatant display, and just for a moment she thought she might have seen a flicker of heat in the icy depths. Then, clearly unimpressed, he returned his interest to her flushed face. “You haven’t noticed anything unusual, have you?”

She shook her head, telling herself she didn’t give a damn. “Not that I can think of.”

“There haven’t been any strangers lurking around?”

Her lips twisted in a humorless smile. “Most people will tell you that I’m not the most observant person,” she said, recalling her mother’s resigned complaint that Angela could recite the periodic table when she was barely five, but didn’t know the name of one classmate. She hastily squashed the age-old pain before it could fully form. Her mother’s death last year meant that the older woman could no longer be disappointed in her only child. “Outside the lab I tend to be distracted.”

“What about when you’re home?” he demanded. “Have you seen anyone new in the neighborhood?”

“No.” She frowned. “Shouldn’t the police be asking these questions?”

His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “They didn’t want to spook the students so I agreed to do a bit of discreet investigating for them.”

“Oh.” It seemed weird to have a visiting professor investigating a potential stalker, but what did she know? “I’m sorry I can’t help.”

He reached into his pocket to pull out a pen, scribbling on a piece of napkin.

“Here,” he murmured, folding the paper before he lightly pressed it into her unresisting fingers.

Angela’s heart slammed against her ribs as pleasure exploded through her. Her head might warn her to stop weaving futile fantasies about this man, but her body hadn’t received the memo.

His fingers were hot—shockingly hot—against her skin. A branding heat that sent darts of excitement to the pit of her stomach.

And his scent was wrapping around her like a cloak of invitation.

“What is it?” she husked, becoming lost in the astonishing blue of his eyes.

“My phone number.”

“Phone number?”

“I want you to call me.”

Her heart gave another stuttering leap. “You do?”

“Yes.”

“I . . .” She licked her suddenly dry lips. “When?”

“The very minute you notice anything out of the ordinary.”

Shit. She came back to earth with a resounding crash.

The stalker. Right.

She lowered her head, determined he wouldn’t guess her flare of humiliation.

“Okay.”

“If you notice anything,” he insisted. “No matter how small.”

“Yeah, I got it.”

Without warning his hand was cupping her chin, tilting her face up so he could study her with a faint frown.

“You promise?”

There was another jolt of sensation before she was pulling free of his destructive touch and rising to her feet with a stubborn expression.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Angela—”

“I need to find Megan.”

Standing near the railing of the second floor of the nightclub, Nikolo studied the throng of people that moved below him.

College students jerked and hopped around the dance floor while townies and aging professors lined the bar at the back.

Over and over, his gaze skimmed the swarm of norms before returning to the slender brunette who’d moved to a front table with her friend.

He didn’t worry about the aggravating scientist catching sight of him. He couldn’t actually make himself invisible, but he could . . . convince people not to notice him.

It was a talent of most Sentinels. Along with heightened senses, predatory instincts, and a cunning patience that would allow him to track his prey from one end of the world to other if necessary.

He also had the ability to sense when a high-blood was near.

Of course, the public was far more accustomed to the Sentinels who performed as guardians to high-bloods. Those Sentinels were raised and trained by monks in mysterious arts that were never spoken of outside the monasteries. They were also heavily tattooed to protect them from being controlled by psychics or attacked with spells.

They were lethal beasts, but they were also ridiculously noticeable in a crowd.

Massive killers tattooed from the top of their bald heads to the tips of their toes tended to attract attention.

Which is why the Sentinels also needed hunters who could travel unnoticed.

Hunters like him. Oh, and the man currently standing a few feet away.

Never allowing his gaze to stray from Angela Locke, he gave a tiny motion of his hand. All high-bloods understood you didn’t approach a Sentinel when he was locked on his prey.

Bad, bad things could happen.

“Arel,” he murmured, recognizing the scent of the fellow Sentinel.

The younger man stepped forward, the flashing strobe lights shimmering over the honey highlights in his light brown hair and turning his eyes to molten gold.

Most humans dismissed Arel as a charming playboy. A role he performed with consummate skill. But those trained to look beneath the surface could detect the muscles honed to lean perfection beneath his casual T-shirt and faded jeans, and the ruthless determination that simmered deep in the gold eyes.

“Dylan?” Arel murmured softly.

Niko grimaced at the mention of the female high-blood they’d been hunting for the past six weeks.

“Still in the wind.”

“Are you positive she’ll show up here?”

Niko didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“And you’re always right?”

“Always.”

Arel snorted. “You know you’re an arrogant SOB, don’t you, Niko?”

Niko shrugged. Yep, he knew. But his confidence wasn’t just conceit.

From the second Dylan had murdered her two guards to escape from Valhalla, he’d dedicated every waking moment to studying his prey.

He knew the day and hour Dylan had been born. He knew that she’d been less than a week old when her parents had left her in the field outside Valhalla. He knew that she nursed a bitter fury at having been abandoned by her family despite her welcome among the high-bloods. Perhaps because she was one of the unfortunate freaks that had been born with a mutation that left her with startling crimson eyes and large black spots on her skin, like a cheetah. Unlike many high-bloods she’d been unable to pass as norm, which only increased her resentment.

Or maybe she’d just been born a psychopath.

Being given special powers didn’t mean that a person was automatically a superhero.

High-bloods possessed all the usual failings of norms. Only they could do a hell of a lot more damage if they weren’t contained.

Which was where Niko and his fellow Sentinels came in.

He shrugged. “I know what she’s going to do before she does,” he said.

“And you think because she’d been searching through Calder’s files on your scientist that she’s coming here?”

“Yes.”

Niko had been baffled at first when he’d discovered that Dylan had been sneaking into the Master of Gifts’ office. Calder and his order were dedicated to tracking down those high-bloods who either didn’t realize they were “special” or were trying to pass as normal. Like a Sentinel they possessed the ability to sense talents, even latent talents, although they used their skills to convince high-bloods to join with their brethren at Valhalla, or in one of the many compounds located around the world. While Niko . . . well, his duties weren’t quite so nice.

At last he’d put together the reasons for Dylan’s late-night visits to Calder’s office.

And it had everything to do with Angela Locke.

“Not that I’m questioning your conclusion, amigo,” Arel said in dry tones, “but why is she currently on a killing spree through Texas?”

“She’s trying to disguise her true purpose and throw us off her trail.”

“For six weeks?”

“She’s always been patient.”

“True.” Arel’s features hardened, his charming smile replaced by a cold hatred. Both Niko and Arel had reason to want Dylan tracked down and destroyed. The sooner the better. “She must have planned her escape from Valhalla for months.”

“Years,” he corrected.

“We can’t keep cleaning up her kills, Niko.” Arel grimaced. “There have been five more. Plus the losses we suffered—”

“I know how many she’s killed,” Niko interrupted. He couldn’t discuss Fiona’s bloody murder.

Not yet.

“Then you’ll understand that I was sent by the Tagos to warn you that you have until the end of the month,” Arel said, referring to the ultimate leader of the Sentinels. “After that he wants you on the trail in Texas.”

Niko shrugged, unperturbed by the warning. “Dylan will be here before then.”

Arel snorted. “You’re good, but you’re no psychic. How can you be so certain?”

“Spring break starts at the end of classes tomorrow,” he said, his gaze narrowing as he watched Angela being led to the edge of the dance floor by a blond jackass who obviously ate steroids like candy. No mere mortal had those kinds of muscles without pharmaceutical help. He didn’t like the way the bastard was staring at her overexposed breasts. In fact, he might very well find a way to make Blondie disappear if he laid a hand on the vulnerable female. “It will be the perfect opportunity to make Angela Thorne disappear.”

“It’s a little late for her to try and be subtle, isn’t it?” Arel demanded.

“She wanted to attract attention to draw us south. Now she’ll want to fly below the radar. She won’t want us knowing that she has the scientist,” he pointed out, his tone absent as his attention remained homed in on the female who was moving with a surprising grace. “Besides, it’s far more difficult to disappear when you have a hostage.”

Easily sensing Niko’s distraction, Arel leaned against the railing.

“Is she the real deal?”

“Yeah, she’s the real deal.” Niko forced himself to shift his attention back to his companion. Until Dylan was dead he couldn’t afford to be distracted. Especially not by this particular female. “Calder intended to bring her to the compound after she graduated.”

“Why wait?”

“He wanted the female to enjoy being normal for as long as possible.”

Arel gave a grunt of laughter. “He’s always been too softhearted for his own good.”

“You won’t get an argument from me.”

“While you’re a coldhearted Sentinel who’s willing to use an innocent female as bait for a psycho killer.”

Arel’s words rasped a raw nerve that Niko didn’t even know he possessed until he’d crossed paths with the pretty young scientist who’d slayed him with one shy smile.

Dammit.

Angela Locke was a pawn.

And like any pawn she was supposed to be expendable.

So why had he spent the past six weeks imagining her stretched beneath him as he taught her the true meaning of biology?

He swallowed a low growl. “I get results.”

“True enough . . .” Arel’s words ended with a low whistle as the frantic music ended and Angela turned to reveal her slender curves so shockingly revealed by those too-tight jeans and the shirt that should be illegal. Damn, Megan. It had to be her influence. “Hellooo. You didn’t say anything about her being a beauty.”

“Because it has nothing to do with the job,” he snapped.

Arel smiled with a slow anticipation. “Hey, if you don’t want to bed her, I will.”

Niko hissed at his unexpected surge of fury. He was never possessive of women. Not even when they were his lovers.

It had to be this job.

He was . . . on edge. Anxious to find Dylan and make her pay for what she’d done to Fiona.

That had to be it.

Feeling the weight of Arel’s all-too-knowing gaze, he sent his fellow Sentinel a scowl.

“Don’t you have someplace you have to be?”

A mysterious smile played around the younger man’s lips. “Yes, but I don’t mind changing assignments.”

“Go away, Arel.”

Arel chuckled before he placed a hand on Niko’s shoulder. “Take care. I’ve already lost two friends. I won’t lose another.”

Usually the small apartment three blocks away from the campus was a place of peace for Angela.

Not that anyone else would share her opinion.

Most people would shudder at the worn furniture that she’d picked up at second-hand stores and garage sales. Not to mention the bedroom that was overflowing with unpacked boxes from her mother’s house. Boxes that were filled with painful memories she wasn’t prepared to open.

And oh yeah, a kitchen that had become a mini-lab with microscopes, petri dishes, test tubes, and three small fridges that contained her current experiments.

Hardly the palace most women dreamed of.

But for Angela it was far better than a palace.

It was her safe haven.

The moment she closed the door she could forget the day, along with the frustrating challenge of trying to fit in a world that always seemed slightly out of focus.

Today, however, there was no peace as she shut and locked the door.

Pacing across the living room, she peeked through the curtains at the empty street below.

It had started this morning.

She’d spent the entire day with the sensation she was being watched by some unseen lurker.

And she laid full blame on the shoulders of Dr. Nikolo Bartrev.

Not because of his abrupt arrival and equally abrupt departure from the club last night, although the aggravating man had taken away any hope of enjoying the night. Oh, she’d gone through the routine for Megan’s sake. She’d danced, she’d sipped her gin fizz, and laughed on cue, but the evening had gone flat.

No, she was used to wishing for things she could never have.

It was his warning of a mysterious stalker that had her jumping at shadows.

Seeing nothing but the usual joggers and occasional car drive past, she gave a shake of her head.

What had she expected?

A stranger wearing a hockey mask and lurking on the sidewalk?

Or maybe a car in the parking lot with a sign that said STALKERS “R” US?

“This is stupid,” she muttered, stepping away from the window and heading into the kitchen.

Spring break had officially started. Classes were out, the majority of the students were even now fleeing town for warmer climes, and she would have a blessed, uninterrupted week to work on her private research.

No doubt Megan would toss her hands up in defeat, but as far as Angela was concerned she’d rather be concentrating on her work than wasting her days on an overcrowded beach.

Okay, maybe if the beach included Professor Hottie she might consider—

Entering the kitchen, Angela came to a halt, a strange sense of alarm tingling down her spine.

Someone had been in here.

She didn’t know exactly how she could be so certain. Perhaps the microscope had been shifted ever so slightly. Or maybe there was a lingering scent she didn’t quite recognize.

Whatever the cause, her vague unease became full on, adrenaline-charging alarm as she whirled around, intent on fleeing the apartment.

A wise decision that came too late.

She barely managed a step before the door was blocked by a slender figure.

Angela’s heart slammed to a halt as she took a swift inventory of the intruder.

The stranger wasn’t much taller than her, and was dressed from head to toe in black. Black leather pants. Black turtleneck sweater. Black ski mask.

Good grief. Did stalkers have a uniform code?

She swallowed a hysterical urge to laugh, sternly reminding herself that she was in danger.

Despite the fact the intruder was more or less the same size as herself and clearly female, she wasn’t fooled. Beneath the tight clothes she could make out hard, lean muscles that warned the intruder could tie Angela into a painful pretzel.

Or worse.

“Who are you?” she managed to croak, her mind sluggishly trying to shift through her limited options.

No. Not limited.

Nonexistent.

Her cell phone was in her purse that she’d left in the living room. There was no doubt a knife was tucked in her silverware drawer, but it was across the room. And there was nothing close enough at hand to use as a weapon.

For now her options were talking her way out of danger or hoping for a miracle.

Neither seemed likely.

Casually leaning a shoulder against the doorjamb the intruder revealed she was in far better control of her nerves than Angela.

“Would you believe a friend?”

“No.”

A nonchalant shrug. “Then let’s say I’m a potential customer.”

“Customer?” Angela frowned before she gave a small gasp of understanding. “Oh. I get it.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. But I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake.”

The woman adjusted her black glove. Preparing for violence?

“I rarely make mistakes,” she drawled. Her voice was oddly beautiful. Almost hypnotic.

Angela licked her lips, flicking a brief glance toward the expensive equipment that was piled on the kitchen table.

“I know it must look like I manufacture drugs, but I’m just a scientist,” she said, her palms damp. Had the temperature gone up? Or was it sheer terror that was making her feel as if her sweatshirt and jeans were smothering her? “There’s nothing here that will get you high.”

“Just a scientist?” The stranger gave a chiding shake of her head. “Now, now, Angela. There’s no need for such modesty. You’re already considered the brilliant star in the world of genetics.”

Angela took a shocked step back. “You know me?”

“Of course. I’ve been following your career with breathless anticipation.”

Okay. The whole encounter had just shifted from scary to terrifyingly creepy.

“Who are you?” she repeated the question that had never been answered.

The intruder straightened, taking a step into the kitchen. “A devoted fan.”

Fan? Did scientists have groupies?

Well, beyond Stephen Hawking?

“Look, I’m not sure what’s going on, but I’m just a postgraduate student struggling to finish her dissertation,” she said, her voice quivering. “If you want to speak with an actual researcher—”

“It’s you I want,” the woman interrupted.

“For what?”

“A job.”

The simple words caught Angela off guard.

Was that why this woman had snuck into her home?

She’d been warned that recruiters could be aggressive when trying to capture the top graduates. Especially recruiters from pharmaceutical companies. But this was beyond ridiculous.

“Actually, I haven’t really considered what I plan to do after graduation, but—”

“I’m afraid it’s something of a rush job.”

With a lift of her hand the stranger yanked off her stocking hat and Angela nearly went to her knees in shock.

“Holy crap,” she muttered, trying to make sense of what she was seeing.

The . . . woman (yeah, she was still convinced the intruder was female despite the fact she was completely bald) had eyes that were as red as rubies and a nose that was oddly flat. Like a snake. And worse, her visible skin was patterned with large, dark spots that went way beyond freckles.

The intruder smiled. Not a pleasant smile. More a stretching of her thin lips.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“Were you—”

“Born this way?” The woman pulled off her gloves, revealing her hands that were spotted like her face and tipped with claws. “Yes.”

Angela tried to clear the mammoth-sized lump from her throat.

“So you’re a—”

“Freak.”

Everyone knew of high-bloods, or freaks, as most people called them. The special people born with some sort of mutation that made them different from others.

Not that the general population truly knew much about them. There were rumors of witches and psychics and necromancers. And the strange Sentinels. Then there were the whispers that there were true monsters being hidden behind the walls of Valhalla.

As a future geneticist, Angela devoured the bits and pieces of information on the high-bloods. Unfortunately the Mave who ruled the residents of Valhalla and the satellite communities refused to allow her people to be studied. Only scientists who were a part of their community were allowed any research. Even local doctors were forced to contact Valhalla if a freak turned up in the ER. And anyone trying to collect genetic material was subject to punishment by the Mave.

Not something anyone would be willing to risk.

Now, however, she realized that her clinical fascination with high-blood DNA hadn’t taken into account the brutal truth of what it meant to be . . . different.

The personal cost was written in the bitter glow of the crimson eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Angela whispered before she could halt the impulsive words.

The female snorted. “Not nearly as sorry as I am.”

Yeah, Angela got that.

“What do you want from me?”

“Simple. I want you to fix me.”

“Fix you?” Angela parroted, her brilliant brain trained to comprehend logical facts, not . . . this. “I’m not a doctor.”

“Do I look like a fucking doctor could cure me?”

Angela took another step backward, her ass hitting the edge of the sink.

“What do you expect me to do?”

“Your gift is to alter DNA.” The woman pulled off her other glove and tossed it on the ground. Then she ran her fingers over her bald head. “I want you to make me normal.”

Through her fog of fear, Angela felt a stab of sympathy. She understood the woman’s desperation. She truly did.

But, sympathizing with the stranger didn’t mean she could help her.

“That’s impossible.”

The crimson eyes narrowed. “Nothing in this world is impossible.”

“Maybe not, but the technology isn’t anywhere near advanced enough. At least not yet.”

“Technology?” Something that might have been amusement rippled over the strange, exotic face. “I’m not talking about test tubes and microscopes.”

“I don’t understand.”

The woman waved a hand toward the kitchen table. “Why do you bother with this junk anyway?”

Was this some sort of trick?

“I need it for my research,” she said slowly. “Although I admit it can’t compare to my lab at the university.”

“Come on, Angela,” the intruder scoffed. “You don’t have to hide the truth from me.”

Angela went rigid with a strange sense of wariness.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The woman gave a sharp laugh. “You haven’t figured it out yet?”

“Figured out what?”

“You, Angela Locke, are a freak.”

“No.” Angela shook her head, squashing the ridiculous urge to slap her hands over her ears. The woman was nuts. A full-blown wackadoodle. “No way.”

“How do you think you’re able to manipulate cells that no one else can?”

Angela sucked in a ragged breath. Why wasn’t she laughing at the woman’s outrageous claims?

“The magnetic particles I’ve developed—”

“No.” The woman stepped close enough for Angela to feel the heat she radiated from her skin even through her clothes. Obviously her mutation made her run at a higher temperature. “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

“This is crazy.” Angela was trapped, reaching behind her to grasp the edge of the counter. Her knees were threatening to collapse. “I want you out of my apartment.”

“If you insist.” The creepy smile returned as the woman reached out with terrifying speed to lock her hands around Angela’s upper arms, her claws digging through the sweatshirt to puncture the tender skin beneath. “I was going to let you pack a bag, but whatever.”

“Stop it,” Angela cried, fear and pain hammering through her with equal force. “What are you doing?”

The crimson eyes glowed with an eerie light. “I have a comfy little home all prepared for our arrival. You’re not leaving my side until you fix me.”

Her grip tightened, but even as Angela braced herself to be dragged from the room kicking and screaming, the stranger was tilting back her head to sniff the air. Like an animal.

Angela shuddered. Oh . . . God. What now?

In answer, the woman whirled toward the door, her hands clenched in tight fists.

“Niko,” she hissed, not nearly as dumbfounded as Angela as a tall, stunningly familiar man stepped into the kitchen.

“Dylan,” Dr. Nikolo Bartrev drawled, his handsome face carved from granite. “I knew you’d eventually show up here.”

It was rare for Nikolo to be caught flat-footed.

No, it wasn’t rare.

It was never.

But trailing Angela from the university to her apartment building, he’d taken time to make a sweep of the neighborhood. He was certain Dylan was going to make her move. And make it soon.

He just hadn’t expected her to already be in the apartment.

A mistake that might have cost Angela her life.

The realization detonated a strange explosion of fear and fury in the depths of his soul.

A sensation that was as unfamiliar as it was unexpected.

Niko was trained to hone his feelings into a smooth blade of cold, calculating resolve. Becoming emotional only clouded his mind and dulled his instincts.

But silently entering the apartment, he hadn’t been worried about his prey. Or even his own life.

His sole focus was reaching Angela before she could be hurt.

Stepping into the kitchen he came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Dylan standing directly in front of Angela. Shit. She was too close to risk an attack.

One swing of her hand and she could crush Angela’s skull. Or use her claws to rip out her throat.

He swallowed a growl, ignoring the voice that warned his hesitation might cost him the opportunity to put an end to Dylan’s murderous rampage.

He would have his revenge, he grimly assured himself. But not at Angela’s expense.

Wiping all expression from his face, he watched Dylan slowly turn, her crimson eyes filled with a mocking amusement that didn’t entirely disguise her seething frustration.

“Long time no see,” she drawled. “Did you miss me?”

“Like a fucking hole in the head,” he retorted, allowing only a brief glance toward Angela who was studying him with a shocked gaze. “You gave up any claim to loyalty when you killed Adam and Fiona.”

“I know you won’t believe me, but I wish their deaths hadn’t been necessary.”

Niko shrugged aside the female’s genuine regret. He’d been the one to discover the two Sentinels. Adam had lost his throat when he’d obviously gone into Dylan’s room to check on her, while Fiona had been shot in the back of her head while standing guard at the entrance to the psych ward.

Adam had been a longtime friend, while Fiona had been as close as any daughter to him.

He would mourn their deaths for the rest of his life.

“It was a choice, not a necessity.”

“Easy for you to say,” Dylan countered. “You weren’t chained to the walls like an animal.”

“For your own safety.” Niko made a sound of disgust. “Of course, that was a ruse, wasn’t it? You never intended to kill yourself.”

The female shrugged. “I needed to distract attention. I knew I was being watched.”

Niko narrowed his eyes. It had been one of the clairvoyants who’d picked up on Dylan’s growingly dark thoughts, although the Sentinel had the ability to hide her secret plans. It was enough to put a constant surveillance on the unstable female.

“Because you’re a psychopath.”

“So easy for you to judge when you walk around like a Greek god,” Dylan hissed. “How would you feel if you looked like a monster?”

He deliberately allowed his gaze to roam over the spotted skin and too-flat nose before returning to meet the smoldering crimson glare.

“You’ve never been a monster to your family.”

“Family?” Her sharp laugh sliced through the air. “My family tossed me away at birth.”

“We were your family,” he reminded her. All high-bloods were welcomed at Valhalla and Dylan had been raised by people who loved her. “Your parents gave you to us because they understood the challenges you would face and trusted us to protect you.”

She gave a restless shake of her head, her madness refusing to acknowledge she’d been treated with nothing but kindness.

“How did you find me?”

“I’m a Sentinel.”

“My trail was in Texas.”

“You didn’t escape to kill humans.”

“So you knew I was coming for the scientist,” she murmured, glancing over her shoulder at the white-faced Angela before turning back to Niko with a sudden realization. “Ah, you used her as bait.”

“Yes.”

There was a raw, pained sound from Angela that pierced Niko’s heart. Christ. That was a little tidbit he’d intended to keep to himself.

But even as he ground his teeth at the thought of Angela’s sense of betrayal, his gaze never strayed from Dylan.

The bitch was still too close to Angela for him to strike.

“Always so clever, Niko,” the Sentinel mocked.

Clever. Yeah, not clever enough to avoid his own trap, he acknowledged wryly, belatedly accepting that Dylan wasn’t the only one to have fallen for the bait.

He took a step forward. “It’s time to end this.”

“Oh no, this isn’t the end. The game is just beginning.” With the fluid speed of all Sentinels, Dylan turned to Angela, her hand shooting out to grasp her chin with claws that bit into the tender skin. “I’ll come for you later, sweet Angela. Niko can’t guard you forever.”

“Damn.”

Niko launched himself forward, but as fast as he was, Dylan was already leaping through the window over the sink and dropping the two stories to the parking lot below.

Without hesitation Niko was in pursuit.

On some level Angela knew she must be in shock.

Otherwise she’d be curled in the middle of the floor screaming in terror. Or at the very least, calling nine-one-one.

Instead she stumbled toward her bedroom, barely aware of what she was doing as she found a gym bag on the floor of her closet and began stuffing it with clothes.

She had to get away.

Somewhere.

Anywhere.

The destination didn’t matter. Just so long as it wasn’t here.

Vaguely realizing the bag was full, she zipped it shut and rose to her feet.

It was only when she turned that she realized she wasn’t alone.

“Shit.” She dropped the bag, reaching behind her back to retrieve the carving knife she’d grabbed on her way out of the kitchen. “Stay back.”

In answer Niko took a deliberate step forward, his gaze flicking down to the bag at her feet.

“Good. You’ve packed.”

Her gaze locked on the handsome face that had filled her dreams for six long weeks. God. He looked so . . .

Abruptly her tight knot of fear exploded into sheer rage. “I told you to stay back,” she snarled, waving the knife in warning.

“Please, Angela.” He held up his hands. “You need to listen to me.”

Her heart squeezed with a crippling sense of betrayal. It didn’t matter that she’d known this man for less than two months. Or that he’d never made her any promises.

She’d felt a . . . connection to him.

A tenuous hope that he would be the one man to eventually see the woman beneath the awkward nerd.

God. Could she have been more delusional?

“So I can hear more lies, Dr. Bartrev?”

His eyes darkened, as if bothered by the harsh edge of accusation in her voice.

“My name isn’t a lie,” he said. “I’m Nikolo Bartrev.”

“You’re not a professor.”

“No.” He took another step forward and Angela shivered as he dropped his pretense of a harmless professor. It wasn’t like he’d snapped his fingers and transformed into another creature. It was more a subtle hardening of his dark, beautiful features. The squaring of his broad shoulders that looked even broader beneath the cream cable sweater. And the swirl of heat that poured through the room, stroking over her in silent warning. “I’m a Sentinel.”

She tossed aside the knife. It was worse than useless considering she was more likely to poke it into herself than harm the dangerous predator that watched her with his piercing blue gaze.

And he was a predator.

She could sense it with every fiber of her being.

“I thought Sentinels were marked with tattoos?”

“Those who act as guardians are protected by wards.”

“But not you?”

“No. I’m a hunter. I need to . . . blend when necessary.”

Her jaw clenched at the painful reminder of his charade.

Bastard.

“So what makes you a Sentinel?”

He hesitated, clearly considering his words. Did the high-bloods have a code of silence? She wouldn’t doubt it. There was very little information about them in the general population.

“I’m stronger and faster than most people,” he at last admitted. “I also have heightened senses.”

“And it’s your job to track down freaks.” She deliberately used the insult.

Beneath her overriding fear she was well and truly pissed.

Who could blame her?

Her chin was bleeding from the claws used by the creepy Dylan who intended to kidnap her and force her to play the role of Dr. Frankenstein. And this man—this arrogant jackass—had treated her like she was nothing more than an expendable object.

Something to be used and tossed away.

He gave a dip of his head. “Yes.”

“And you always get your man?”

His gaze briefly lowered to the soft curve of her breasts barely visible beneath her sweatshirt.

“Or woman.”

Her nipples tightened in instant reaction and she swallowed a curse. The tingling, heart-stopping heat that she’d always savored when near this man was now a brutal reminder of just how humiliatingly naïve she’d been.

“No matter who you have to use?”

He shoved impatient fingers through the short strands of his hair.

“Dylan killed two Sentinels to escape Valhalla, then twelve norms to try and draw us from her true purpose,” he rasped. “She has to be stopped.”

Angela grimaced. Fourteen people murdered? Okay. Obviously the psycho killer had to be captured.

But that didn’t make it any easier to know she’d been used as bait.

“How did you know she would be coming here?”

He shrugged. “You’re the only one who has the talent to alter her appearance.”

She was shaking her head before he finished speaking.

Dammit. Why were they trying to make her believe she was a freak?

Did they think it would make her more sympathetic to their cause?

“Not. In. The. Mood.”

“Fine.” Perhaps sensing she was on the verge of a meltdown, he wisely backed off. “We need to go now.”

“We?” She made a sound of disbelief. “Are you brain-dead? I’m not going anywhere with you.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched, but he grimly held on to his temper.

“You don’t have a choice. Dylan’s not going to stop hunting you. Not until she’s dead.” He deliberately paused. “Or you are.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

“No.” He was gripping her upper arms firmly before she even realized he’d moved. Holy shit. He wasn’t lying when he said he was faster. “You won’t.”

She tilted back her head, pretending his touch wasn’t searing through her sweatshirt.

The lover of my dreams is now my enemy, she fiercely reminded herself.

“So I’m a prisoner?”

His brows drew together in a scowl. “Dammit, Angela, I’m only trying to protect you.”

“A little late for that, don’t you think?”

“Late for what?”

She forced herself to meet his ruthless gaze. “If you truly wanted to protect me you’d have told me the truth from the beginning.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Of course not,” she mocked, not bothering to try and pull from his grasp. What was the point? He was clearly ten times stronger than her. Which should have made her wonder why she was pissed instead of terrified. “I’m just the bait, right?”

He heaved a harsh sigh. “I was never going to let you be hurt.”

Was he kidding?

She shook her head in disgust. “Well you did.”

He hissed, his hands skimming down to her wrists so he could tug her arms up as his gaze inspected her slender body.

“I’ve seen the scratches on your face. Are you wounded anywhere else?”

She jerked her wrist free and, balling her hand into a fist, she slugged him in the center of his chest.

“You hurt me, you bastard,” she hissed.

He tensed at her accusation. “That wasn’t my intention.”

“No?” Ignoring all sanity, she hit him again. “Then why did you pretend to be my friend?”

His beautiful face became wary. “I needed to be close to you.”

“Bullshit. You’re some magical Sentinel, aren’t you?” she demanded. “You could have watched without me ever knowing you were around. Instead you—”

“What?”

She shuddered at the aching sense of betrayal. She was used to being teased, or more often, ignored by the opposite sex. But she’d never been so callously humiliated.

“You let me think you liked me.”

“Angela.”

“God, I’m such an idiot.”

She wrapped her arms around her waist. Hitting him only hurt her hand.

“Don’t,” he commanded, studying her with a brooding intensity. “You’re the most brilliant person I’ve ever met.”

“Am I?” She gave a humorless laugh. “Then why did I spend my nights fantasizing about a man who was willing to offer me up as a sacrifice to a psychopath?”

Something dark and dangerous flared to life in his eyes. Something he’d never allowed her to see before.

But, even as Angela took an instinctive step backward, Niko was reaching to yank her against his unyielding chest.

Danger. Heat. Desire.

She squawked in surprise, her mouth opening to protest his manhandling.

And he kissed her.

Just like that.

His lips were hard, hungry, just as she’d always fantasized, but the brush of his tongue was a gentle caress. He pressed her closer and the feel of his thickening arousal sent a stab of excitement to the pit of her stomach.

She moaned, her hands lifting to his shoulders as fiery heat flowed like lava through her, searing away the world where she was being hunted by a mass murderer and this man was her enemy.

Angela stewed in silence as Niko headed his battered Jeep north, swiftly taking them away from the outskirts of Columbia to the farmlands that surrounded the town.

It was always a beautiful drive. The manicured fields dissected by meandering streams. The sturdy farmhouses that were dwarfed by red-painted barns, along with sheds and paddocks.

Today it was even more charming with the fading April sunlight offering a hint of spring and the tiny buds beginning to appear on the trees and bushes.

Unfortunately, she was too busy glaring at the stark male profile of Nikolo Bartrev to pay attention to the passing scenery.

He really was indecently handsome, she was forced to acknowledge, even as she considered the pleasure of punching hard enough to break his perfect nose.

He’d lied to her, used her, and now kidnapped her.

Okay, to be completely fair, he’d rescued her from the whacked-out freak. And she wasn’t entirely averse to having him near in case Dylan made a repeat appearance. At least until she could find someplace to hide.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t still mad as hell.

Or that she wasn’t going to try to escape the very second she suspected he was about to serve her up to the wolves. Or in this case—the freaks.

She didn’t trust him any farther than she could throw him.

Which wasn’t very damned far.

Her dark thoughts were interrupted as the Jeep slowed and Niko halted in front of a heavy gate that blocked the narrow gravel road. Slipping out of the vehicle, he moved to punch a series of numbers onto a computer screen that was set in a small gatehouse before returning to steer the Jeep through the open gates and down the road that was lined with massive oak trees.

She frowned, abruptly conscious of just how isolated they were as he turned yet again and stopped in front of a picturesque log cabin that was nestled among the trees.

The front of the A-frame house was made entirely of glass, giving a hint of the large living room with a silver sectional couch loaded with bright pillows and a spiral staircase in the middle of the planked floor leading to the open loft above.

“What is this place?”

He put the Jeep in park and pocketed the keys. She grimaced, belatedly wishing she’d learned how to hot-wire a car.

Who knew it would come in handy?

“I’ve been staying here since traveling to Missouri.”

She blinked in surprise, her gaze returning to the house that managed to be elegant despite its rustic style.

It looked so . . . normal.

“Here?”

He shoved open the door to the vehicle and stepped out. “Did you think I crawled beneath a rock every night?”

With a shrug, she climbed out to join him on the pathway leading to the wide, wooden terrace.

“It’s where most slimy invertebrates slither.”

“Slimy?” His lips tugged into a lopsided grin. “Is that a scientific term?”

Her heart skipped a treacherous beat. It was no wonder he so rarely smiled. It was lethal.

“Personal opinion,” she managed to mutter.

Grasping her elbow, he led her onto the terrace. Then, reaching the glass door, he paused to flip open a small, metal box and placed his hand against it to be scanned. There was a small beep before the door slid open.

Good grief.

This place had the sort of security she’d only seen in movies.

Perhaps sensing her confusion, he sent her a wry smile as he urged her over the threshold and into the house.

“I borrowed the cabin from a friend,” he said, closing the door and pressing a button that reset the lock.

He pressed another button that did something to darken the windows. She assumed it was so they could see out, but no one could see in.

“A Sentinel?” she guessed.

“No, Serra is a psychic.”

In spite of the combustible combination of fear and anger that continued to seethe through her rigid body, Angela felt an undeniable stab of curiosity.

Hardly a big shocker.

She was a scientist who’d been obsessed with genetics for as long as she could remember.

“I thought most high-bloods lived together?”

He turned to meet her searching gaze. “Most prefer the comfort, not to mention the safety, of official compounds, but psychics have a need to seek solitude on occasion.”

“Oh.” She glanced toward the windows that offered a view of the thick woods that encircled the house. The nearest neighbor was no doubt miles away. “I never thought how annoying it must be to hear other people’s thoughts.”

“This house belonged to Serra’s parents before they retired to Florida.” His features softened as he spoke of the psychic. “She was fortunate to have parents who remained an important part of her life. They chose this spot to give her a place of peace.”

“Is she your lover?”

The words left Angela’s lips before she could call them back and her face flushed with heat as he stepped toward her with a wicked smile.

“There’s only one female I want in my bed.”

A dangerous excitement spiraled through her at his low, husky voice, stealing her breath and making her knees weak.

If only that were true.

If only this intelligent, powerful, drop-dead-gorgeous man had truly been a visiting professor who’d been intrigued by me, the shy young scientist.

Yeah, and if only pigs could fly.

She tilted her chin, trying to pretend as if she couldn’t feel the heat of his hard, muscular, perfectly chiseled body searing through her clothes.

“Why did you bring me here?”

His jaw clenched, as if he was frustrated by her refusal to accept that his desire could be genuine.

“The house has a sophisticated alarm system including hidden surveillance. It’s also less than an hour from a monastery.”

She’d known that the monasteries had a close connection to Valhalla. Not only training the mysterious Sentinels who served as guardians to the high-bloods when they traveled among the regular population, but also offering asylum for any high-blood who felt in danger.

No one was allowed in the monastery without invitation from the monks.

Not the cops, or military, or even the leaders of the country where the monastery was located.

They had the mystical powers to remain impervious to politics.

“You have business with the monks?”

“Using teleportation will be the fastest way to reach Valhalla.”

She took a hasty step backward. “No.”

“There’s no need to be scared.”

He studied her as if surprised she would be afraid of being magically transported from one place to another. As he should be. Under normal circumstances she would have been thrilled out of her mind at the opportunity to not only see inside a mysterious monastery, but to travel from portal to portal. It would be . . . amazing. But these weren’t normal circumstances and she wasn’t going to allow herself to be trapped in a place that she couldn’t be sure she could escape from.

“I’m not scared,” she said.

“Good.” His lips twisted. “Despite all the entertaining tales of people disappearing into outer space or arriving at the destination half-man/half-fish I can promise you that it’s perfectly safe.”

“I meant that I’m not going to Valhalla.”

His brows drew together at her stubborn tone. “Angela, it’s the one place Dylan can’t reach you.”

“Oh yeah? It didn’t sound that way to me.”

“What didn’t?”

“You accused Dylan of killing two Sentinels before managing to escape from this supposedly ‘safe haven’,” she reminded him, shivering at the memory of the strange female. It wasn’t remotely difficult to accept she’d murdered her friends. Dylan was clearly unstable. “Now you want to plant me there like a sitting duck?” Her eyes narrowed. “Or is that the point? Am I still the bait?”

His breath hissed between his teeth, his hand lifting to rake impatient fingers through his hair.

“If you were the bait, I would have left you at the apartment and waited for Dylan to return,” he rasped. “Because I can assure you that she would have come for you.”

Okay, that was true.

Even if she wasn’t in the mood to admit it.

Instead her chin tilted another inch. “You can’t force me to go to Valhalla.”

The blue eyes darkened with a hint of the predator that waited just below the surface.

Sentinel.

She’d glimpsed the danger that lurked beneath his pretense of civilization. A damned shame she hadn’t paid attention to her instincts.

“I think I’ve already proven I can make you go wherever I want,” he reminded her in deceptively soft tones.

“Bastard.”

He cupped her chin, his touch unexpectedly gentle. “But, I would rather you go willingly.”

“Not. Gonna. Happen,” she snapped, hoping he didn’t feel her shiver as the heat of his fingers warmed her to the tip of her toes.

And lots of interesting places in between.

His eyes darkened, but this time it was with a stark hunger that made her heart pound.

“What if I say pretty please?” he asked in a low, compelling voice, his thumb brushing over her lower lip.

“Stop that.”

His hooded gaze studied her upturned face, something perilously close to possession in his dark expression.

“Ah, if only it was so simple.”

Her mouth went dry as her body instinctively arched toward his solid strength. Dang it. She’d lusted after him for so long. Weaving impossible fantasies in her head.

Now her body didn’t seem to understand that she wasn’t supposed to be melting beneath his touch.

Traitorous hormones.

“Niko.” His name came as a breathy whisper instead of the protest she intended.

He muttered a low curse as his head lowered so he could brush his mouth along the sensitive curve of her neck.

“I like hearing my name on your lips.”

Her hands lifted to clutch at the cashmere softness of his sweater as he nuzzled a path upward. Oh . . . crap. It felt soooo good.

The sort of good that made smart women do stupid things.

“I’m mad at you,” she managed to mutter.

He found the pulse that thundered just below her jaw, stroking it with the rough rasp of his tongue before giving it a tiny nip.

“I know.”

Angela gasped at the primitive stab of pleasure that arrowed through her.

Her limited experience with the opposite sex included a few fumbled kisses, even more fumbled squeezes of her breasts followed by a quickie in her long forgotten boyfriend’s dorm room.

Nothing that made her anxious to find a new lover in the past three years.

Not until Niko had prowled into her lab.

Clearly even a female as embarrassingly naïve as she was could sense a man with the ability to please a woman.

She moaned as he outlined her mouth with the tip of his tongue.

“I don’t trust you.”

“You will,” he promised, stealing a deep, drugging kiss.

She briefly savored the taste of warm male desire, her stomach clenching with anticipation as she felt the hard thrust of his arousal.

This was what she’d sensed the minute he’d walked into the lab.

This smoldering attraction that could burn her to cinders.

Reluctantly she pulled back, her rasping breath the only sound to disturb the silence.

“Just because you can get me into bed?”

“Because I’m going to devote myself to proving I’ll never hurt you again,” he promised, his gaze locked on her lips that still tingled from his touch. “No matter how long it takes.”

She struggled to think.

Who knew it could be such a difficult task?

“Why?”

His finger brushed her heated cheek. “Hmmm?”

“Why are you concerned that I would be hurt now?” she persisted. “It’s not like you gave a rat’s ass for the past six weeks.”

He met her accusing gaze, his expression somber. “The Sentinels—the ones who Dylan murdered—were two of my closest friends.” He grimaced. “The pain of their loss blinded me.”

She refused to be swayed by the edge of pain in his voice.

“So not all Sentinels are so cold-blooded?”

He gave a short laugh. “Oh, we’re cold-blooded, especially when we’re tracking prey.” His hand gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “But a part of our mission is always to protect the innocent.”

Angela was impressed.

So this was what a kitchen was supposed to look like, she wryly acknowledged.

It was more than the hand-carved cabinets, granite countertops, and stainless steel appliances. It was the heavy oak dining table in the center of the ceramic tiled floor and the matching china cabinet that displayed the prized dishware.

This was a place where families gathered to share meals and laugh away the troubles of the day.

It wasn’t a makeshift lab for a distracted scientist. Or a place for a child to sit alone with dinner from the microwave while her mother was flirting with her fellow drunks at the nearest bar.

She squashed the ridiculous pang. She wasn’t that lonely ten-year-old girl anymore and she was perfectly happy with her private apartment and her kitchen filled with microscopes.

Pulling a water bottle from the fully loaded fridge, she was debating between a salad and a tuna sandwich when a husky voice whispered in her ear.

“Did you find anything to tempt your appetite?”

With a muffled shriek she turned to glare at the man towering over her.

“Dammit,” she muttered, pressing a hand to her racing heart. “You really need to wear a bell.”

He flashed his rare, bone-melting grin. “Kinky, but whatever turns you on.”

She swallowed a groan as desire blazed through her with stunning force.

Even furious with his betrayal and unnerved by the disruption of her peaceful life, she still wanted him with a raw, aching need that was frightening.

Against her will her gaze drank in the lean, starkly beautiful face and stunning blue eyes that studied her with an unwavering intensity. His hair was even more ruffled than usual and her fingers itched to smooth the dark strands that shimmered like copper in the fading afternoon sunlight.

Then they could travel down to discover if his body was the chiseled perfection she’d always fantasized.

Abruptly realizing his eyes had darkened, as if he could actually sense her disturbing awareness, she shut the fridge door. Instantly she stepped back as his heat wrapped around her.

“How long did you have to practice sneaking up on people?” she breathed, shivering at the prickles that raced over her skin.

“It’s a natural talent.” He closed the tiny space between them, reaching to pluck the water bottle from her hand and tossed it into the recycle bin. “One of many.”

She licked her dry lips. “Is modesty another natural talent?”

“No, but this is.”

He leaned down to capture her lips in a kiss of sheer possession.

“Niko,” she muttered, the breath squeezed from her lungs as he wrapped his arms around her, moving slowly, as if to give her ample opportunity to step away.

Or perhaps he was worried his superior powers would frighten her, she realized as he gently tugged her against him.

Tilting back her head she met his smoldering gaze.

“Tell me no and this ends now,” he husked.

Her lips parted, but the word was stuck in her throat. “I thought you wanted dinner?” she instead hedged.

His hand shifted to her lower back, pressing her against the thickening length of his arousal.

“You know what I want.”

She shivered, her hands lifting to rest against his chest. “Do I?”

His tongue traced the curve of her lower lip. “I can demonstrate if you need clarification.”

Oh, she wanted him to demonstrate.

She wanted him to rip off her clothes and take her in a glorious storm of pagan passion. She wanted him to kiss her with a hunger that would drown out the voice of insecurity that whispered in the back of her mind.

“It seems—”

“What?”

“Convenient.”

“Convenient?” He made a sound of disbelief. “Trust me, lusting after a female for six weeks is anything but convenient.”

“If you were so overwhelmed with lust you hid it well enough. I did everything but spread myself naked on the lab table and you couldn’t have shown less interest.” She lowered her gaze, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment at the memory of her awkward flirtations and his blatant apathy. He’d only reinforced her opinion she was lacking the mysterious quality that attracted the opposite sex. “Now, when you need my cooperation, you suddenly find me irresistible.”

“Angel, look at me,” he said, cupping a hand beneath her chin, urging her face up to meet his eyes that were darkened with regret.

“I’m looking,” she muttered.

“It might not have been my intention to hurt you, but I did,” he said softly. “You felt betrayed by my charade; can you imagine how much worse it would have been if I’d given in to my desire and taken you to my bed? Not even I am that much a bastard.”

The resentment she’d been nursing for the past few hours faltered at his low words.

“So it was for my own good?”

His gaze slid to her mouth. “It certainly wasn’t for mine.”

He had a point, a tiny voice whispered in the back of her mind. She wasn’t sure she’d ever have been able to forgive him if he’d actually taken her as a lover while he’d been lying to her.

Still, that didn’t mean this wasn’t just another game.

“If you say.”

He frowned. “You can’t doubt my desire for you?”

“Trust me, you wouldn’t be the first man to want to be ‘just friends,’” she said dryly.

“Christ, Angela,” he breathed. “As much as I want to be your friend, I’m desperate to make you my lover.”

Her heart missed a beat as she met his brooding gaze. “Desperate?”

Without warning he grasped her wrist and pressed her hand against the thick length of his erection.

“Tell me, angel, does this feel desperate to you?” he growled.

Her suspicions were seared away as her fingers curled around the impressive bulge. Even through the heavy material of his jeans she could feel the pulsing heat and straining urgency of his need.

It was intoxicating.

Her mouth went dry as her stomach clenched with excitement. She’d never understood why women rushed to the window when the football team jogged past wearing nothing more than gym shorts. The male body was a collection of vital organs surrounded by muscle and bone and hard-wired to a brain that allowed it to function.

It wasn’t until this man entered her lab that she got it.

Just being near Niko was like being plunged into an electrical storm. The heat, the sizzle in the air, and the prickles of anticipation that warned she was about to be struck by lightning.

And worse, her brain shut down until all she could think about was wrapping herself so tightly around him he could never escape.

Dangerous, dangerous sensations.

Her fingers slid down his erection, her heart skipping a beat as he seemed to grow even bigger.

“It feels—”

“Yes?” he groaned, his hands gripping her shoulders as if he wasn’t convinced his knees would hold him.

Angela felt a strange jolt of . . . what was it? Female power?

He wanted her.

Truly wanted her.

Of all the lies he told her this wasn’t one.

“Large,” she murmured.

He gave a choked laugh, his face tight with his barely leashed desire.

“Should I be flattered?”

Her awkwardness was forgotten beneath the heady realization that she could affect this man with a mere touch.

“Not really, I don’t have much to compare it to,” she admitted. “As I said, I’ve never been the kind of girl that attracts the opposite sex.”

“Only because mortal men are blind.”

She snorted. “All of them?”

He studied her upturned face with an undisguised hunger that squeezed the air from her lungs.

“If they had the superior senses of a Sentinel they would have seen what I see.”

“And what’s that?” she managed to ask.

He lifted a hand to tug the scrunchie from the messy remains of her ponytail.

“Thick, sable hair that starts out prim and proper in the mornings, but during the day sexy little tendrils escape to play against your long, utterly kissable neck.”

She trembled as his fingers threaded through the loose strands of her hair.

“Oh.”

He growled low in his throat as he lifted a fistful of hair to press it to his nose, breathing deeply of the apple shampoo she used.

“Do you know how many hours I devoted to fantasizing about releasing your hair from its bondage so it could spread across my pillows?”

“Bondage?” The word came out as a croak as she all too easily pictured being handcuffed to Niko’s bed, her body a willing slave to the promise of paradise.

Keeping one hand tangled in her hair, he used the other to gently trace the sensitive skin of her temple.

“Dark velvet eyes that tempt a man to become lost in their depths,” he continued his verbal seduction, his voice smoky.

“Boring brown,” she corrected.

He ignored her interruption, his smoldering gaze tracing every line and angle of her upturned face.

“A noble little nose,” he murmured. “Did you know you scrunch it up when you’re concentrating on your work?”

“I do not.”

His fingers drifted down to trace her nose before outlining her trembling lips.

“A mouth that is as ripe and delicious as cherries.”

Her lips instinctively parted at his searing touch. “Niko.”

“And this skin.” The warm fingers continued their path of destruction down the length of her neck to trace the loose neckline of her sweatshirt. “As smooth as the most expensive silk.”

“I’m too pale.”

“You’re perfect,” he growled in response. “Ivory silk. It tempts a man to discover if you’re the same porcelain shade all over.” Holding her gaze, he lowered his hand to the hem of her shirt. “May I?”

She knew what he was asking. And that if she agreed there would be no turning back.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Obviously a man of action, Niko didn’t hesitate to pull the sweatshirt up and off her body. It happened so fast that Angela didn’t have time to feel embarrassed. Then, catching sight of Niko’s harshly appreciative expression, she forgot to worry that she was too skinny, or too pale, or too whatever else her insecurities could imagine.

“Yes,” he rasped as his hands reached to dispense with her lacy bra. “Ivory tipped with rosebuds. An irresistible combination.”

His fingers cupped the small mounds of her breasts, his thumbs teasing the nipples to tiny points of aching pleasure. She sucked in a startled gasp, her back arching as if to beg for more.

Muttering a low, rough curse, he lowered his head and licked the tip of her breast.

Angela jerked in astonishment, her hands lifting to plunge into the short strands of his hair.

“Dear . . . Lord.”

His own hands slid down the curve of her waist, tugging her against his rigid muscles at the same time he sucked her nipple between his lips.

She groaned, as he caught the tip between his teeth. It felt so good. Blissfully, wondrously good.

“I want you,” he whispered, kissing a path to her other breast to torment it with the same dizzying skill.

“I want you too,” she husked.

And she did.

What had his word been?

Desperately. Yes, that was it.

She wanted him desperately.

This was chemistry at its most basic form.

He made a low sound deep in his throat, planting impatient kisses up the line of her collarbone until he buried his face in the curve of her neck.

“But—”

“No,” she snapped.

He pulled back with a frown. “No?”

Dammit. She’d spent six weeks tormenting herself with the fear that this man who filled her every fantasy could never desire her.

Now that she was in his arm, hovering on the edge of paradise, she didn’t want it snatched away.

Just once she wanted to say the hell with logic and common sense and give in to temptation.

“Don’t give me a reason why we can’t do this,” she muttered. His hooded gaze skimmed down to her nipples that remained hardened with desire before returning to meet her frustrated gaze.

“It’s more a warning.”

“A warning? Oh.” She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, I’m not stupid. I know the routine. This is just sex. It means nothing.”

“No.” The blue eyes flared with a stunning emotion. “It means everything.”

Niko ran a shaky hand down the damp skin of Angela’s back, his face buried in her apple-scented hair.

Man, he ached to press her even closer to his trembling body. To hold her so tightly she would never be able to escape. But even now he feared he might accidentally crush her.

She was so fragile. So vulnerable.

The knowledge frightened him on a primal level that threatened to make him do something extremely stupid.

Like lock her in his rooms at Valhalla and never let her out.

Something that this fiercely independent woman would most certainly protest.

“You’re quiet,” he at last murmured, lifting his head to study her with a searching gaze. She’d never looked more beautiful with her hair tangled around her flushed face and her lips still swollen from his kisses. But he was a Sentinel. He didn’t miss the hint of unease behind her air of sleepy satisfaction. “Are you having regrets?”

“No.”

She used her finger to draw an aimless pattern over his chest, seemingly unaware that the light caress was enough to kick his libido into overdrive. Of course, just being close to this female was enough to send his libido into overdrive. Or catching her scent. Or seeing her across the room . . .

He swallowed a groan, grimly leashing his insistent desire.

This wasn’t a fleeting afternoon of delight.

This was the start of eternity.

Together.

He needed to know what was going on in that clever, always unpredictable brain of hers.

“What is it, angel?”

A brief hesitation. “I was just thinking that we don’t really know much about each other.”

His hand skimmed beneath the warm silk of her hair, massaging the tense muscles of her nape.

“I know that you’re beautiful, frighteningly intelligent, and that you dislike being the center of attention,” he promptly informed her. They were beyond him pretending he hadn’t spent the past six weeks spying on her like some creepy stalker. “I also know that you rarely allow people close to you, but you’re fiercely loyal to the few friends that you trust. And that you’re lonely and you’ve never felt like you belong.”

She stiffened, clearly disturbed by the realization of just how much she’d unconsciously revealed.

“You can’t know that,” she breathed.

“I can because I felt the same.”

Her eyes narrowed in disbelief. “You?”

“Sentinels aren’t always recognized until they hit puberty,” he explained, revealing the sort of information only shared among high-bloods. She would soon be a part of his world. Whether she liked it or not. “When I was a child I went to public school, but even at a very young age I knew that there was something different about me. I could run faster, jump higher, see better, and hear things no one else could.”

She frowned. “And that was a bad thing?”

His jaw clenched at the memory of the hateful taunts and brutal ambushes that had dogged his early years.

“Boys can be extremely competitive and no one wants to play with the kid who always wins.”

Her expression softened with sympathy. “Ah.”

“And that was before my super strength kicked in.”

Her fingers spread across his chest. “What happened?”

“I nearly killed a neighborhood boy when he threw a rock and hit me in the head.” He grimaced. The memory of the boy lying on the ground with his face beaten bloody was one that had haunted him for years. “That’s when my mom called Valhalla.”

“Did they come and take you away?”

“Yes.”

Her hand lifted to cup his face, her heart far too tender for her own good.

“Were you unhappy?”

“At first,” he admitted. “My mother came to visit when she could, but I’d become too wary to make friends.” His lips twisted. He’d been a surly, arrogant kid with a chip on his shoulder the size of Mount Rushmore. In no way did he want to admit he was one of the mutants. “Especially when they were all freaks.”

Her thumb absently stroked his lower lip, sending a blast of heat through him.

Oh . . . yeah.

He was definitely locking her in his rooms. Their rooms. At least for the next month or so.

“What happened?”

“Wolfe, a boy a few years older than me, walked up and punched me so hard he broke my jaw.”

“That’s terrible,” she growled in outrage. “What did you do?”

His lips parted into a wide smile. “Exactly what you’d expect me to do. I picked myself off the floor and did my best to kill the son of a bitch.”

Her frown deepened. “Why are you smiling?”

“Because I discovered that I’d finally encountered someone who could not only match me in strength, but could kick my ass.”

“I don’t understand.”

Of course she didn’t.

Only two males could appreciate the nuanced diplomacy of a knock-down-drag-out fight.

“For the first time ever I didn’t have to hold back. I didn’t have to pretend I was ‘less’ than what I was.” He deliberately caught and held her gaze. “I found the place where I belonged.”

“And Wolfe?”

“He’s the current leader of the Sentinels and my closest friend.”

She lightly ran her fingers up and down the line of his jaw, seemingly fascinated by the feel of his five o’clock shadow.

“You never mentioned your father.”

He lifted his hand to press her palm against his cheek. “He died when I was just a baby.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“What about your parents?”

Her lashes instantly lowered to hide her eyes.

“I was the product of a one-night stand,” she said, her voice stripped of emotion. “I never knew my father, not even his name. I doubt he ever knew I existed.”

He swallowed a sigh as he felt the barriers rising between them.

One bout of sex, no matter how life-altering, wasn’t going to be enough to convince her to lower the barriers surrounding her heart.

“And your mother?” he asked.

“She died a year ago.”

He pulled her hand to his lips, planting a kiss in the middle of her palm.

“That must have been tough.”

She trembled in response to his caress, but her eyes remained stubbornly hidden behind her lashes. She’d share her body, but not her wounds.

“Yes, but we weren’t close.” She struggled to swallow, as if she had a lump in her throat. “She never understood my lack of social skills and she was disappointed that I spent more time in the library than with the other kids.”

“Disappointed in you?” He didn’t have to pretend his angry astonishment. “Impossible.”

“She didn’t want a valedictorian, she wanted a prom queen.” A humorless smile curved her lips. “Or at the very least a cheerleader.”

He swore beneath his breath, wishing her mother was still alive so he could teach her just how special her daughter truly was.

And more importantly, what he did to people who would dare to hurt this female.

“Her loss,” he rasped.

“I suppose.”

He hesitated, wondering if there’d been more to her mother’s disapproval than a shallow desire for glitz rather than gold.

“Did she ever sense you were special?”

She tugged her hand from his grasp, pressing it against his chest in instant denial.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Angel—”

“No,” she muttered. “I won’t discuss it.”

“Denying your powers won’t make them go away.”

She gave another shove against his chest. “I’m hungry.”

He swallowed a sigh. At some point he was going to have to make her accept the truth of who and what she was.

But not now.

Now he had her naked in his bed, and there were far more pleasurable ways to spend the next few hours.

“Me too,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her forehead, his hand trailing up the curve of her waist to halt just below her breast.

Her breath caught and she instinctively arched toward his hardening cock.

“Niko?”

“I swear I’ll feed you,” he promised, nipping the lobe of her ear as he rolled her flat on her back and covered her with the hard weight of his body. “Anything you want.” His hand closed over her breast, his heart coming to a complete halt as he gazed down at her wide, velvet eyes. His. His woman. “Later.”

Her hands lifted to wrap around his neck, her eyes smoldering with a matching desire.

“Much later.”

Niko folded his arms over his bare chest, his eyes narrowed.

If he had been in a rational frame of mind, he might have appreciated Arel’s loyal attempt to protect him. It was, after all, what friends did. But there was nothing rational in his feelings for Angela, and he wasn’t about to allow anyone to threaten her.

No matter how well intentioned.

Easily sensing the tension, Angela cleared her throat then began edging toward the doorway. She didn’t need her genius-level intelligence to realize that it was time for a strategic retreat.

“I think I’ll go take a shower,” she muttered, giving a tiny gasp when he grabbed her by the waist and claimed a possessive kiss before allowing her to scurry away, his gaze never leaving Arel.

With a roll of his eyes, the young Sentinel lifted his hands in defeat.

“You’ve made your point.”

The words were casual, but Niko was well aware that having accepted Niko’s commitment to Angela, Arel would fight to the death to protect her.

It was the way of Sentinels.

“Have you eaten?” he asked, moving to lean against the countertop.

Sentinels burned calories at an accelerated rate, which meant they were always hungry.

“Yeah, I hit a drive-thru before leaving Columbia.” Arel’s expression hardened. “Tell me about your meeting with Dylan.”

Niko grimaced. “She’s not going to be convinced to turn herself over to the Mave.”

Arel shrugged. “Good.”

“She was one of us.”

“No. She never allowed herself to accept being different,” Arel said. “She was a time bomb just waiting to go off no matter how hard Wolfe tried to diffuse her bitterness.”

Niko couldn’t argue. Wolfe had done everything in his power to reach the hostile young woman, but she’d never been capable of accepting that she would never be normal.

“A damned shame.”

“It will be more of a shame if she gets her hands on your scientist,” Arel pointed out.

“That’s not happening.” His expression held no compromise. He would do whatever necessary to protect Angela.

Arel paced toward the windows overlooking the pool. “Do you think Dylan’s still in the area?”

“Yes,” Niko responded without hesitation. “She won’t leave until I get Angela out of here.”

There was a short silence before Arel turned back to study Niko’s grim expression.

“Would it be possible?”

“What?”

“Could Angela alter Dylan’s DNA?”

“Maybe.” Niko hadn’t given it a lot of thought. His fascination with Angela had nothing to do with her rare talent. “According to Calder, her manipulation of cells, or whatever the hell it is she manipulates, is still small and random, but he has hopes that once she fully embraces her talent she’ll be able to offer hope to high-bloods who suffer from mutations that are killing them.”

“Our very own Dr. Frankenstein.”

“Careful,” Niko growled.

“It wasn’t an insult,” Arel hastily assured him. “Just the opposite. Think of the potential benefits of having her work with our scientists. She could save hundreds if not thousands of lives.”

Niko shook his head. “It’s too early to know how far her skills will develop. Or even if she’ll be willing to accept her gifts.” He deliberately held his friend’s gaze. “It will be her decision. I won’t have her bullied into giving more than she’s willing to offer.”

“Not even if she can help your family?”

“She is my family.” Niko straightened, his gaze challenging. “Any argument?”

Arel gave a sudden laugh. “Niko, if I ever find a female who lights up like a neon sign just because I walked into a room I intend to do whatever I have to do to keep her.”

Niko stilled, ridiculously pleased by the soft words. “A neon sign? Did she?”

Arel shook his head in disgust. “Wipe that smug smile off your lips. There had to be one woman in the world crazy enough to fall in love with you.”

“I only need one.”

“Good God. How the mighty are fallen.” Arel hissed as the sharp sound of an alarm pierced the air. “What’s that?”

Niko was already headed into the living room, moving to stand directly in front of the line of monitors.

“Someone just broke the perimeter.”

The men frowned in unison as they studied the thick woods that surrounded the house.

“Nothing,” Arel muttered as Niko manipulated the cameras to do a complete scan of the area. “Not even a stray dog.”

“It has to be Dylan,” Niko ground out.

What the hell was she doing? She had to sense that Arel was in the house. There was no way she could hope to overpower two Sentinels.

Not without help.

“Or a distraction,” Arel stated the obvious. “You stay here and I’ll try to flush her out.”

Niko nodded in agreement. As much as he wanted to be on the hunt, his heart was firmly committed to protecting Angela.

Of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t worried about his friend.

“Arel,” he called as the younger man opened the door and stepped onto the front porch.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be careful,” Arel called, disappearing into the darkness.

Niko moved to shut the door and reset the alarm, then headed to the back of the house to check the locks. Stepping into the kitchen his instincts were on full alert.

Dylan.

The scent of her filled the air.

On cue, the slender female still dressed in black stepped out of the pantry and offered him a mocking smile.

“About time,” she drawled. “I thought Arel would never leave.”

“Dylan.” He clenched his hands at his side. His weapons were upstairs, but it didn’t matter. He could kill as easily with his hands. Or even a well-placed kick. “How did you get past the security system?”

Her eyes glowed with an eerie crimson heat as she strolled forward, one hand held behind her back.

A hidden weapon?

That was the most logical guess, although he couldn’t catch the scent of gunpowder or the metallic tang of a blade.

He would no doubt find out soon enough, he conceded with an explosion of frustration.

Goddammit.

Why the hell couldn’t this female simply accept that she was made precisely as nature had intended? She was graceful, strong, intensely intelligent and beautiful in an exotic fashion.

Everything most women wanted to be.

“I was watching the property when dear Arel was kind enough to punch in the codes so I didn’t have to waste time trying to sneak past the cameras,” she confessed.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

“What about the alarm that just went off?”

She shrugged. “I set it off with a delayed explosion.”

Ah. Of course.

“Clever, but a waste of your time,” he said, his voice steady and his expression carefully devoid of his seething fury.

She strolled forward, a smirk curling her lips. “There’s no need for us to be enemies, Niko. Give me the female and I’ll walk away. No harm, no foul.”

“The female’s name is Angela,” he said from between clenched teeth. “It’s not going to happen.”

“Then I’ll take her.”

He shifted, making sure he was standing between the crazed bitch and the door.

“It won’t do any good. She can’t help you.”

Bitterness flared in the crimson eyes. “Oh, I think you would be surprised what people can accomplish when they’re desperate.”

“So you’ve proven,” he pointedly reminded her, his acute hearing picking up the sound of the shower being shut off overhead. Oh. Christ. Don’t come down here, Angela. “You betrayed and murdered your own family. And for what?”

“For a life beyond the prison walls.”

His brows snapped together. “Valhalla has never been a prison.”

She hissed in anger. “Not to you.”

Niko shook his head. He was wasting his breath. Dylan had convinced herself that her life had been some sort of torture at Valhalla. How else could she excuse the murder of those who’d offered her only kindness?

“And you believe if you can pass as a normal human your life will be filled with endless happiness?” he instead sneered.

Her chin tilted, the slits of her flat nose flaring in anger.

“Endless happiness? No. But fleeting happiness? Maybe,” she ground out, taking another step closer. “Why shouldn’t I have the opportunity to fall in love? To have children.”

He barely listened to her whining. He could smell . . . what? Something he couldn’t identify.

Which was worrying the hell out of him.

“If a man loves you he doesn’t care about your appearance,” he said in absent tones.

“Don’t insult me,” she snarled. “Would you be bedding your scientist if she looked like a monster?”

Niko didn’t even have to consider. “Her looks have nothing to do with my feelings.”

“Liar.”

Niko narrowed his gaze. “Believe what you want, Dylan, but be very clear on one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I’ll kill you if you lay a hand on Angela.”

A slow smile of anticipation curled Dylan’s lips as he widened his stance and squared his shoulders.

“So at last we get to discover who the better Sentinel is.”

“Being the superior fighter doesn’t make you the better Sentinel,” he reminded her, his attention torn between the threat standing in front of him and the nagging fear that Angela would return to the kitchen before he could disable Dylan. The last thing he needed was her leaping into the fray. And she would leap. He didn’t have one damned doubt about that. “Or didn’t you learn anything in our training?”

“You mean all that shit about loyalty and honor and protecting the weak?” she mocked. “Blah, blah, blah.”

“You’re lucky Wolfe never heard you call his teaching shit.”

“I’m a warrior not a fucking Girl Scout.”

Yeah. No argument there.

The mere thought of Dylan as a Girl Scout made him shudder in horror.

“With power comes responsibility.” He repeated the words that had been drilled into his head from the minute he’d walked into Valhalla.

Dylan gave a sharp laugh, pulling her hand from behind her back to reveal the small device that was strapped around her forearm.

“And your insistence on clinging to honor will make sure I win.”

“Dammit, Dylan,” Niko breathed, recognizing the weapon that had been developed as an advanced stun gun only to be banned when it was discovered the electrical charge was enough to stop all but the strongest heart. “Where the hell did you get that?”

“I made it.” She lifted her arm toward Niko. “We all have our little talents.”

Niko darted to the side, acutely aware that it was a fifty-fifty shot of whether he could survive. If he died, or was even incapacitated, Angela would be at the mercy of the crazed Dylan.

As fast as he was, however, he wasn’t fast enough.

Even as he moved he felt the barbs pierce the skin on his back, a massive jolt of electricity blasting through his body.

Shit.

With his last coherent thought, he tried to send a mental message to Arel and warn him of the danger. Then, as his heart threatened to explode, he dropped to the floor, his head banging against the ceramic tiles with enough force to knock him unconscious.

This wasn’t the first time that Niko had stared death in the face.

Years before he’d fought off a group of morons who were in the process of lynching a young female psychic who’d been trying to make a living as a traveling gypsy.

Another time he was tracking a witch who was convinced she was destined to trigger doomsday and got caught in her lethal spell.

But he’d never teetered so close to the edge.

And certainly he’d never debated whether it would be preferable to battle through the pain so he could live. Or simply slip into the waiting darkness.

It was the image of dark, serious eyes and a lush, feminine mouth that had driven him to madness only hours before that gave him the grim determination to crawl back from the abyss. And, of course, the persistent sound of his name being shouted in his ear.

Scowling in annoyance, he forced open his heavy lids, not at all surprised to discover his fellow Sentinel crouched beside him with a worried expression.

“Arel?” he managed to croak.

Fierce relief flared through the golden eyes. “Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty.”

Pressing a hand to his aching head, Niko struggled to a sitting position. Shit. He was as weak as a kitten.

“Why the hell am I lying on the floor?”

“A good question.” Arel’s gaze was watchful, no doubt assessing whether he needed to call for a healer. “I’m assuming it has something to do with Dylan.”

“Dylan.” The memory of the crimson-eyed bitch who’d tried to crispy-fry him seared through his mind. “She was here.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Arel growled, his fury barely leashed. “What did she do to you?”

Even though his mind was fuzzy, Niko had a vivid recollection of the pain that had halted his heart.

“She shot me with a shockwave.”

Arel frowned. “I thought they’d all been confiscated?”

“She claims that she built her own.”

“Of course she did.” Arel curled his lips in disgust. They’d all known Dylan spent her free time tinkering with her inventions. A pity they hadn’t kept a closer eye on just what she was building. “Bitch.”

Slowly gathering his wits, Niko glanced around the empty kitchen, his abused heart slamming against his ribs.

“Angela?”

Arel grimaced. “Gone.”

“Goddammit.”

Niko surged to his feet only to lurch forward as his legs refused to cooperate. Thankfully, Arel was swiftly rising to catch him before he could do a face-plant.

“Before you have a meltdown, I can track them,” Arel hastily assured him.

“I don’t doubt your skill, amigo, but—”

“No, it’s not about skill,” Arel interrupted, making sure that Niko could stand on his own before he stepped back and pulled a phone from his pocket. “Look.”

Niko blinked to clear his bleary gaze, then focused on the road map that was visible on the phone screen. Leaning closer, he noticed the tiny light that was blinking.

GPS.

And if he knew Arel, then the blinking red dot was Dylan.

“You tagged her?” he demanded, afraid to hope.

Arel smiled with grim satisfaction. “I set a trigger on the back porch before I came in. As soon as Dylan opened the door it attached itself to her shoe.”

Niko released a shaky sigh despite the cold chill that inched down his spine at the realization of how easy it would have been for Dylan to disappear with Angela while he was unconscious.

“What if she hadn’t come through the back door?”

“I might have set a few others,” Arel admitted. “You know me. Better safe than sorry.”

“You?” Niko snorted. “Safe?”

Arel gave a casual lift of his shoulder. “Okay, call it overkill.”

Overkill. Yeah. That was definitely more Arel’s style.

“How long have I been out?”

“At least half an hour.”

Niko growled in frustration. Dylan might need Angela alive and relatively unharmed if she was to get what she so desperately wanted, but that was no guarantee of her safety. The female Sentinel was as volatile as she was unstable.

A lethal combination.

“We have to go.”

Arel moved to block his stumbling path toward the door. “Dammit, Niko, you can barely stand.”

Niko glared at his friend. “Don’t even start.”

“Be sensible. I could travel faster without you.”

Niko was shaking his head before Arel finished. “This is an argument you’re not going to win, so give it up.”

“Stubborn bastard.”

Moving like a drunken sailor, Niko sidestepped Arel and continued across the room and out the back door. He’d made it past the pool when Arel caught up with him. Offering Niko a frustrated scowl, the younger Sentinel led him to the garage where he’d hidden his vehicle.

Niko lurched into the garage, giving a lift of his brows at the sight of the large four-wheel drive pickup with massive tires that looked like they should have been on a tank.

“Christ,” he muttered, struggling to lift his foot high enough to reach the running board. “Overcompensating for anything, amigo?”

“I just like power,” Arel said, giving Niko a shove in the ass to get him up and in the passenger seat.

Slamming shut the door, Niko waited for his companion to swing behind the driver’s wheel and start the engine.

“If you say so,” he mocked at the throaty roar that filled the air.

Arel shot him a jaundiced glare, pausing to attach his phone to a mount on the dashboard before backing out of the garage.

“You’re not in any condition to question my manhood.”

“Which is the only reason I’m questioning it now,” Niko confessed, leaning his throbbing head against the seat. “You can’t kick my ass when I’m hurt.”

“Don’t count on it.” With an evil grin, Arel shoved the truck in gear and took off like a bat out of hell. “Hold on.”

“Shit.” Niko braced his hands against the glove compartment, clenching his teeth as the truck swerved around a corner and bounced across a shallow ditch to head straight across an empty field. “Is there something wrong with the road?”

“Shut up,” Arel muttered, his gaze shifting between the dark field and the map on his phone.

Niko bit his tongue, closing his eyes so he could try and concentrate on recuperating his strength. Dylan had clearly gone over the edge. There was no reasoning, no hope of compromise with the female.

This was going to be a fight to the death.

He managed to maintain his silence until Arel rammed through a fence at a hundred miles an hour and nearly sent them into the lake.

No one was more anxious than he was to get to Angela. No one. But he was just beginning to shake off the effects of the shockwave. He couldn’t afford to be injured before he even reached Dylan.

“I could drive,” he rasped.

Arel slowed as they neared the signal still blinking on the GPS.

“Has anyone told you that you have control issues?”

Always.

“Never,” he lied as Arel pulled the truck to a halt just outside a trailer park.

“Dylan’s close,” Arel murmured, his nose wrinkling at the stench of garbage and human misery. “Damn. Why here?”

Niko allowed his gaze to search the heavy shadows that shrouded the park, briefly puzzled by the tug of awareness that flowed through him.

Was this a new trick of Dylan’s?

Then, as the sensation settled deep in his heart, he realized this was no trick.

And it had nothing to do with Dylan.

“Niko?”

Belatedly realizing that Arel was studying him with a worried gaze, Niko returned his attention to their grim surroundings.

“If she intended to have a hostage she would want to be isolated from nosy neighbors.”

“True.” Arel pointed across the narrow parking lot. “There’s her car. Stay here and I’ll find out which trailer she’s in.”

“No need.” Niko nodded toward the trailer set a short distance from the others. “It’s that one.”

Arel turned to frown at him. “How can you be sure?”

Niko pressed a hand to the center of his chest. “I can feel Angela.”

Arel’s golden eyes widened in shock.

On very rare occasions a high-blood could be so deeply connected to another that they formed a bond that could be felt on a physical level.

Niko had always pitied the poor schmucks who allowed themselves to be melded. Why would anyone want to be leashed for their entire lives?

It was . . . abnormal.

Now, he accepted he hadn’t known a damned thing.

This wasn’t a leash, and it certainly wasn’t abnormal.

It was as perfect and natural as breathing.

Angela completed him.

Yeah, yeah. It was sappy. But that’s exactly how he felt.

“It’s gone that far?” Arel growled, not nearly as pleased as Niko by the unexpected gift.

Niko smiled, shoving open the door of the truck so he could jump out to stand on the dirt path.

“So it would seem.”

Arel cursed, hurriedly moving to stand at Niko’s side. “You still need to stay here while I scout out the best way to stage an attack.”

“There’s no strategy.” His gaze searched the trailer for any hidden traps. “I’ll go in the front door and while Dylan is distracted you’ll go in from the back and rescue Angela.”

In less than a heartbeat Arel was standing directly in front of him, his hands planted on his hips and his expression set in stubborn lines.

“No.”

Niko narrowed his gaze. “I don’t want to pull rank, but I will.”

“You’re no longer in charge of this mission,” Arel reminded him in sharp tones. “I am.”

“I’m taking back command.”

“Goddammit, Niko. You’re not thinking clearly.”

Niko refused to back down. “I’m thinking clearly enough to know I’m going to kill that bitch.”

“How?” Arel snapped. “There’s no way in hell you could survive another hit from her weapon.”

Niko couldn’t deny the blunt truth. It’d been a miracle that his heart had restarted after the first shock. The chance it could endure another blast . . . it was pretty much zero to none.

But it didn’t change a damned thing.

He was going to do whatever it took to get Angela out of that trailer safe and sound.

Whatever it took.

“I’m prepared this time,” he tried to reassure his companion. “She won’t have a chance to shoot me.”

“Niko—”

Growingly anxious to reach Angela, Niko didn’t wait to hear Arel’s arguments. He understood his friend’s concerns. Hell, he even agreed with them.

He was emotionally compromised and physically weakened. But none of that mattered.

Not now.

“Let’s do this thing,” he said, heading directly toward the trailer.

Dylan would sense his approach before he could reach the door. There was no point in being subtle.

Besides, he wanted the bitch focused on him. That was the only way Arel would be able to slip in unnoticed.

“Goddammit.” Arel moved to walk beside him. “If you get yourself killed I swear I’ll drag your sorry ass back from the grave.”

Niko grimaced. “Not even a necro can perform that miracle.”

Necromancers—or diviners—couldn’t actually manipulate the dead, although they were capable of entering the recently deceased’s minds to view their last thoughts.

“I’ll travel to hell myself if I have to,” Arel muttered.

Niko turned to meet his friend’s worried gaze. “Just promise me that you’ll make sure Angela is safe, no matter what happens.”

The lean face tightened, as if Arel was struggling against the urge to continue his futile argument. Then, heaving a sigh of resignation, he clapped Niko on his shoulder.

“You know you don’t even have to ask, amigo. I’ve always considered you my brother. How could I treat your woman as anything less than my sister?”

It was exactly what he’d expected, but he needed to hear the words spoken out loud.

“Thank you.” He returned his attention to the trailer. “Now go.”

Waiting until Arel had jogged to the back of the lot, Niko stepped onto the pavement that marked the edge of the park, a humorless smile curling his lips as the door to the trailer was thrown open and Dylan confronted him with an infuriated scowl.

“How the hell did you find me?” she snarled.

Niko hid his shudder of relief as he caught Angela’s scent. He could smell her terror. It spiced the air. But on the plus side her heart was still beating and there was no hint of blood.

Thank the gods.

“Ah, Dylan.” He forced a mocking smile to his lips. “Long time, no see.”

Her eyes glowed like pits of hell in the moonlight. “I asked you a question.”

He halted several feet away, but Dylan remained firmly lodged in the doorway. Dammit. He needed to lure her away from the trailer. Something easier said than done.

“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m the better Sentinel?” He deliberately prodded her pride. “It doesn’t matter where you go or how hard you try to hide, I will always find you.”

She stroked her fingers over the weapon still strapped around her forearm.

“Not if you’re dead.”

“Fool me once, shame on you.” He curled his forefinger in invitation. “Aren’t you going to come out and play?”

She leaned against the doorjamb. “No, I don’t think I will.”

“Afraid?”

“Too well trained to fall for such an obvious trap.” She sniffed the air. “Where is Arel? Trying to sneak in the back door?”

Niko’s smile never faltered despite his stab of fear. The bitch was supposed to be attacking him, not remaining lodged in the trailer like a rabid guard dog.

So how did he convince her that she had no choice but to fight?

By proving that the risk of leaving Arel and me alive is too great . . .

The thought seared through his mind at the same time he was struck by inspiration.

There was only one thing that Dylan feared.

And that was losing her one chance to be made normal.

She had to believe her dreams were about to be shattered.

Niko folded his arms across his chest, trying to look nonchalant.

“I wanted to make sure you didn’t slip away before we could finish this.”

“I’m not afraid of you.” Dylan flared her flat nose in what he assumed was disdain. “Or your devoted sycophant.”

“Arel isn’t going to be happy to be called a sycophant,” he drawled. “And I don’t give a shit if you’re scared or not. All I need to do is keep you cornered until the cavalry rides to the rescue.”

She pretended indifference, but Niko didn’t miss the sudden tension that gripped her body.

“What do you mean?”

“Arel contacted Wolfe when he found me unconscious,” he smoothly lied, betting on the fact this female wouldn’t have any inside connections left at Valhalla. One phone call and his fib would blow up in his face. “The Tagos wasn’t pleased to discover you’re carrying around an illegal weapon, let alone kidnapping a scientist who they hope will be the salvation of those high-bloods who can’t survive their mutations.”

Her laugh was strained. “I suppose you want me to believe he’s sending a hundred—oh wait, maybe it’s a thousand—warriors to capture me?”

“I don’t have a clue, but since the guardians can only transport two or three at a time, you won’t have to worry about a thousand arriving on your doorstep.” He waved a languid hand toward the empty road. “At least not in the next hour or so.”

Dylan frowned, proving she hadn’t had word that the guardians were refusing to leave their necros, and that there was no possibility of any backup arriving in time.

“No,” she hissed. “You won’t ruin this for me. Not now.”

He smiled in open challenge. “There’s no escape.”

The crimson eyes at last smoldered with the panic he’d been hoping for.

Even a Sentinel made stupid decisions when driven by fear.

“I can go through you,” she rasped.

He held out his arms in mocking invitation. “You can’t kill two of us.”

“Watch me.”

Lifting her arm she released a blast from her shockwave. Already anticipating the shot, Niko lunged to the side, allowing the electrical charge to slam into the tree behind him.

“Is that all you got?” he taunted, brushing off the bits of bark and shattered wood that clung to his jeans.

“And the healers told me that I was the one with the death wish,” Dylan snarled, leaping off the front steps of the trailer even as she was sending another invisible bolt of power in his direction.

He felt his hair rise as the electricity filled the air, his gaze trained on the female launching a kick at his head.

Distantly he was aware of the wary humans peeking out their windows and a few braver souls who stepped out of their shabby homes, but he didn’t worry they would interfere.

Life was difficult enough for these norms. They didn’t willingly place themselves in danger.

He was far more concerned by the barely audible sound of Arel’s soft murmur as he spoke to Angela. No doubt he was trying to convince her to slip through the back door rather than charging into the fray. His scientist might be brilliant, but she could be as stubborn as hell.

Reassured by the sudden fading of her scent, Niko grasped Dylan’s foot and twisted it to the side. The well-trained Sentinel flowed through the air, easily landing on her feet as she let off another shot.

Niko hissed as the bolt went just above his ducked head, close enough to make his ears ring.

Christ. He had to disable the shockwave. Sooner or later he was going to run out of luck. And then . . .

Bad, bad things were going to happen.

Avoiding a punch aimed at his chin, he charged forward, ramming his larger form into Dylan’s slender body. Together they hit the ground with enough impact to rattle Niko’s teeth and knock the air from his lungs.

She jerked her head backward, making him see stars as she connected with his chin. Then, when he maintained his grim hold, she turned her head to sink her sharp teeth into his forearm.

“Shit, Dylan,” he growled.

“Let me go,” she demanded.

He ignored the pain of his torn flesh. “Not a chance in hell.”

“Then we’ll both die.”

“You’re in no position to threaten—” He forgot what he was going to say as she twisted to the side, managing to lift her arm far enough to press a button on her homemade weapon. A clock appeared on a digital panel, the numbers counting backward. “What have you done?”

“Every evil villain has a way to self-destruct,” she jeered. “Unless you release me then we both go boom.”

He believed her.

Dylan might be crazy as a hatter, but she didn’t bluff.

If she said the thing was going to self-destruct, then that’s exactly what it was going to do.

The question was whether he held on or risked letting her go so she could disarm the weapon. He wasn’t a martyr. Not by a long shot, but he knew if he let go of Dylan there was no guarantee that she wouldn’t escape. Or even manage to kill him with her stun-gun-from-hell.

Hearing the sound of his name, he lifted his head to see Arel standing at the back of the trailer with a struggling Angela in his arms.

She was clearly trying to break free so she could get to him, even knowing she was no match for a Sentinel.

And in that moment his decision was made.

The fragile, precious female would never be safe so long as Dylan lived.

And if that meant he had to sacrifice himself in the bargain . . . then it was a price he would pay without regret.

“Then we both die,” he said, his gaze glued on Angela as time ran out.

I hope you enjoyed Angela and Niko’s story. This is a short introduction to my new series, The Sentinels. This series will revolve around people who are “gifted” with special abilities and the warriors who protect them. Next up is Duncan O’Conner’s story. He’s a hard-nosed police detective who requests the services of Callie Brown, a high-blood necromancer, when a young woman is found murdered in her kitchen. Callie’s skill allows her to view the last memories of the dead before the soul leaves the body. Most cops consider it a gruesome talent, but Duncan isn’t so squeamish. Callie has managed to solve a dozen murders over the past five years. Besides, he can’t deny a fascination with the beautiful high-blood. She stirs a passion in him that threatens to consume them both.

Coming in June 2013 will be Darkness Avenged, Santiago and Nefri’s story. Can you believe this is the tenth book in the Guardians of Eternity series? I never imagined when I first came up with the idea of a clan of vampires in Chicago that it would grow and expand to include such a wide variety of creatures. Weres, witches, Sylvermyst, and of course, one naughty gargoyle. And it’s all because of you!

So thank you dear readers, and happy reading!

Alexandra Ivy

A ticking clock.

The creaks and groans of an old building settling.

A print of Edvard Munch’s The Scream hanging on a pale green wall.

They didn’t mean much individually. But as Cassie sat alone in the office of Eternal Rest Funeral Home listening to the tick tocks, the creaks and groans, and staring at the print . . . She took a deep breath and prayed for human contact before she did her own interpretation of The Scream.

Those creaks and groans? Definitely sounds of the dead rising, shuffling across the floor in the basement, coming for her. The ticking clock counted down the minutes before the walking dead crashed through the office door and tore her into bite-size bits.

Cassie shivered. Why had she agreed to sub for Felicity for even three minutes let alone three hours? She hated funeral parlors, hated the concept of putting dead bodies on display, hated dead bodies. For twenty-seven years she’d avoided going to a viewing—as a child with tantrums and as an adult with polite refusals.

Now, because her best friend had plied her with sobs and a giant guilt trip, she was here, by herself—not one other freaking person in the building except for dead guys—in the office of Eternal Rest. And it was getting dark outside.

She should have stood firm against Felicity’s begging. No one needed her here. She’d only answered the phone once in the last two hours. Fifteen minutes ago a woman had called to ask about her husband’s funeral. The woman had hung up with a huff of irritation when Cassie couldn’t help her.

Cassie’s heart did a giant ker-thump at the shrill sound of the doorbell. Get a grip. Zombies didn’t ring the bell.

The back entrance, the one with the very large doors that opened to allow very large things—definitely not thinking about what those were—to be carried in and out. She took gulping breaths and tried to calm her primal fears. But that was the problem with primal fears—they weren’t rational, and she couldn’t control them.

Cassie pushed to her feet and hurried toward—thank God—human interaction. As she yanked the doors open, and flipped on the outside light, she thought about shoving aside the man standing there and running like hell. Breathe, breathe. Fact: she could leave whenever she wanted. But then Mr. Garrity would fire Felicity. Fact: a live person stood not three feet from her. Her panic subsided.

“Can I help you?” She smiled as she took inventory. He looked around forty with thinning hair and an ordinary face. Cassie felt the rest of her fear slide away.

“Where’s Felicity?”

He didn’t sound too surprised that she was gone. Did her friend make a habit of skipping out on her job? “She had an emergency. She’ll be back in”—Cassie glanced at her watch—“an hour.” That’s all Cassie had to last. Sixty more minutes.

Felicity owed her big-time for this. No explanation, just a frantic call. Panic had ridden her voice as she’d begged Cassie to fill in for her. And no matter what, Mr. Garrity couldn’t find out that she was gone. She’d promised to leave the back door unlocked and then hung up.

Cassie had sat staring at the phone. What kind of emergency? It must’ve been serious from the sound of her friend’s voice. Her conscience pointed out that Felicity was allowing her to sleep in her spare room while Cassie searched for work. This small favor was the least she could do in return. Cassie wished her conscience would mind its own business. After about a half hour of mental hand-wringing, though, she’d temporarily beaten her fears into submission and headed out to spend a few hours in her personal nightmare.

“Does Mr. Garrity know you’re here?” He speared her with a hard stare.

Cassie had to protect Felicity’s job. She pasted on her most sincere expression. “Of course.” On the shades-of-gray scale, this lie was almost white. Her conscience subsided with a grumble.

The man nodded. “I do special jobs for Mr. Garrity. When a client wants a picture hand-etched onto a headstone, I’m the one who does it. Felicity probably told you that.”

“Uh, sure.” Felicity had told her nothing.

“I delivered one here this morning, but I have to make some minor changes.”

He held up a few pointy tools she hadn’t noticed at first. She frowned. Why would he deliver the headstone here and not to the cemetery? “So you do custom work?” That was her, the queen of obvious.

He smiled for the first time. “Every headstone is one of a kind. Why don’t you get the keys to the basement rooms and meet me down there?”

“Keys?” She’d seen the elevator doors in the hallway right behind her, but Cassie had tried not to think about what lay beneath her feet. Not too successfully if she was imagining zombie attacks.

He’d stopped smiling. “The keys are in Felicity’s desk.”

“Right. Desk.” Something didn’t feel right. Cassie glanced past him to where he’d parked his small, unmarked delivery truck. Another man was climbing from the passenger side of the truck. Now this guy was scary, and big, but he was human and alive. Both points in his favor. She dismissed her feelings. This whole place spooked her.

The first man nodded toward his friend. “Forgot to introduce myself. I’m Tony and the big guy is Len. Takes size to handle the stones.”

“Hi.” Cassie smiled at both men. No way was she giving her name. If the funeral director got cranky because Felicity had called in random secretarial help while he was gone, Cassie didn’t want to be in the line of fire. “About those keys. Why don’t you wait here for a moment? I’ll find them and bring them right back.” She did not want to take that elevator anywhere.

“Can’t waste time waiting for you. I have someplace to be in twenty minutes. Besides, I might need your help.” Tony held her gaze. “Oh, and make sure you press the bottom button.”

Help? For what? Musical accompaniment? He could hack away at his tombstone in time with her chattering teeth. But she couldn’t think of an excuse that wouldn’t make her look like the giant wuss she really was.

The two men walked past her, heading for the elevator.

“Oh, um, do you know where Mr. Garrity is?” In fact, where anybody was? There hadn’t been one person in the place when she’d arrived. She refused to think about the non-living that probably populated the basement.

Len answered her. “Mr. Garrity was also called away on an . . . emergency.” He seemed to think that was funny, because he smiled.

Cassie thought he had a sinister smile. Okay, maybe not. Her imagination was a terrible thing. Proof? Nonexistent zombies shambling down the hallway. To stop herself from babbling something that would get Felicity in trouble, she turned and walked back to the office.

On the way there, it occurred to her that the men wouldn’t save any time by making her bring the keys downstairs because they’d still have to wait for her to unlock the door. She shrugged the thought away.

Keys, keys . . . She found them in the top drawer of the desk. That part had been easy. Now for the tough part. She had to go back to the elevator, walk inside, and hit the down button.

By the time she reached the elevator, she’d almost made herself believe that this whole experience was a character-building event. She’d be stronger for having spent time at Eternal Rest. You are such a liar.

Inside the car, she had a choice of three unlabeled buttons. The funeral home was only one story, so that meant ground level and two levels below ground. Weird. She hit the bottom one. All the way down she tried to convince her heart it didn’t need to pump gallons of extra blood so she could handle a few minutes among the dead. Her heart didn’t believe her. It redoubled its efforts.

The elevator doors slid open, and Cassie stepped out. She was in a long wide hallway with closed doors lining both sides. Was this usual for a funeral home? The lights were a little too dim, the shadows a little too deep. Relieved, she saw Tony and Len waiting for her at the end of the hall in front of the door on the right.

Please, no bodies, no bodies, no bodies. Her legs felt rubbery by the time she reached the men. They moved aside so she could open the door. She was proud that her hand didn’t shake as she slipped the key labeled with the number eight into the lock and turned it. Cassie pushed the door open and then started to step aside.

After that, things happened too fast for her to react. Tony reached into the room and flipped on a light at the same time someone gave her a hard shove. She stumbled into the room, tripped over something on the floor, and went down hard on her hands and knees. She heard the door slam shut behind her.

She opened her mouth to scream. Then she looked down. The scream froze in her throat.

She was kneeling in a pool of blood—

And staring into Felicity’s sightless eyes.

Dead. Felicity was dead.

Cassie couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.

She didn’t see her best friend sprawled on that floor, didn’t see the girl she’d shared notes with in school, the woman who’d comforted her when she’d lost her job. Cassie only saw—

A dead body. She was kneeling next to a dead body. Whimpering, she scooted backward, still on her hands and knees. The blood smeared, sticky on her hands, soaking into her jeans.

Never get it out, never get it out. Panicked, she knelt up and tried to wipe her hands on her top.

“Gee, looks like your friend had more of an emergency than she expected.” Tony’s voice.

His soft laughter jerked her back to some level of sanity. Scrambling to her feet, she whirled to face the two men standing in front of the only door.

She still couldn’t force any sound from her locked throat muscles, clenched teeth. But she didn’t need to, because Tony had plenty to say.

“Mr. Garrity got a call on his cell phone from a Mrs. Hodges. She was really upset that you couldn’t help her when she called. Said the regular woman was a lot more efficient.” He took a step toward her.

Cassie backed up a step, her eyes riveted on what he held in his hand. The long pointed tool now looked exactly like what it was—a weapon.

“This really upset Mr. Garrity. See, no one should’ve been here to answer any phones. And since he was tied up with his . . . emergency, he asked us to take care of the problem. Lucky that we live close by.”

She was going to die. Just like Felicity. She’d be lying in a pool of her own blood staring at the ceiling. Funny, the thought of dying didn’t paralyze her with fear. It was just the bodies. It had always been the bodies.

“Why?” She forced the one word past lips that felt numb. Not much, but it was at least a start. Don’t look at the body, don’t look, don’t look, don’t look.

Tony shrugged. “No need to know all the details. Besides, I was telling the truth about that appointment. Let’s just say your friend found something she wasn’t supposed to find and was running off to give it to someone we didn’t want to have it. So we stopped her.” He smiled. “Now we’re going to stop you.”

She saw the intention in his eyes as he started toward her. Survive. That’s all that mattered. Weapon. There had to be something. Panicked, she bumped into a table beside her. An empty glass sitting near the edge fell to the floor and shattered. Without thinking, she crouched and picked up the largest shard.

Len chuckled. “Looks like the little girl thinks she can defend herself.”

Tony wasn’t laughing. He launched himself at her, ready to bury the tool’s point in her heart. Then she’d be just a body, a body, a . . .

No! Cassie reacted. Lessons learned from years of modern dance kicked in. She might not have the talent to be a professional dancer, but she knew the moves.

Leaping into the air, she spun away from Tony’s charge. At the same time she slashed at him with her glass shard. She was too terrified to aim. But she’d hurt him. She’d felt the resistance of the glass digging into his flesh.

Sobbing, she whirled to fend off another charge. A charge that didn’t come.

Silence filled the room. Then she heard Len cursing. Glancing down, she saw Tony sprawled on the floor. Saw the moment he died, his throat sliced open. Saw the blood pouring from the wound. The body. She dropped the bloodstained shard.

Nothing to protect yourself with now. The thought floated around in her mind, for the moment overwhelmed by the coppery scent of blood and the memory of the glass cutting, ripping, ending a life.

She supposed she was lucky then that Len didn’t attack her right away. Forcing herself to think instead of just feel, she looked at him.

But he wasn’t watching her. He was staring past her at . . . She turned.

The horrors never ended. A transparent coffin rested on another table. A man’s body lay inside. He was naked, and his pale skin gleamed under the ceiling light. Someone had set a headstone beside the table. Only two things about the stone registered.

A sick mind had created that image. It was an etching of the man in his coffin with thick chains wrapped around almost every inch of his body. A huge padlock trapped the man inside. The etched lock almost seemed to glow.

And a name. Ethan.

“You stupid bitch! You killed the binder.”

Cassie had never heard that much fear in any person’s voice. A binder? What was a—

The man in the coffin turned his head. He opened his eyes and stared at her. Eyes with no pupils, no white, just solid black.

She stopped breathing.

Len screamed, a high keening sound filled with unspeakable terror. He threw himself toward the closed door.

The coffin shattered.

Cassie flung her hand in front of her eyes and turned her head away to protect herself from flying glass. At the same time, she bent to retrieve her own glass shard. Because beneath her gibbering fear, she still wanted to live. Then she straightened.

Who to face? But her subconscious recognized the real danger. She looked at where the coffin had rested. . . .

At the man crouched among the shattered remains, all smooth bare skin and hard muscle. Cuts from the broken glass dripped blood that trailed over his chest and stomach. His tangled dark hair framed a face that spoke of violence in shadowed planes and sharp edges. He stared at her, his black eyes alive with rage and something so predatory that she stepped back. Len seemed safe compared to this . . . She wasn’t sure anymore. The word “man” suggested human. Too tame a category for what glared back at her. Male. Definitely male.

As she stared with unblinking horror, he curled back his upper lip, exposing long sharp fangs.

She gripped her small glass shard so tightly it dug into her palm. Blood trickled between her fingers. The pain kept things real, because on some level she still wanted to believe she’d wandered into a dark nightmare alley. But this was no dream. And she didn’t have any illusions that her puny weapon would stop him.

Then she realized he wasn’t looking at her any longer. His gaze swept past her to focus on Len, who was throwing himself against the door in a vain effort to break it down. The force of his desperation shook the room.

The fanged . . . male laughed, a soft sound that terrified her more than an angry roar ever would. She edged over to the wall and pressed herself flat against it, wished she could sink into it and disappear, and prayed to a God she hadn’t spoken to since she was ten.

“Leaving so soon?”

His voice was dark and deep, filled with such menace that she had to force herself not to join Len in flinging herself against the door. Instinct whispered, “You’re prey. Don’t move. Don’t breathe. Don’t call attention to yourself.”

“I’m sorry that I don’t have more time to discuss things with you—life, death, and how payback is a bitch.” He didn’t move closer to Len.

Len finally turned away from the door. All color had drained from his face, his eyes were wide and staring. “No. Don’t. Tony did the binding.” He sounded almost incoherent.

“But Tony is dead. That only leaves you.” He sounded regretful that Tony was beyond his reach. Then he smiled.

Cassie shuddered. She felt what was coming, sensed death filling the room, the air thick with fear and finality. She told herself to close her eyes.

She watched.

Suddenly, Len’s head jerked sharply to the left, farther than any human neck should be able to twist. If there was an accompanying sound, Cassie couldn’t hear it past the roaring in her head. Len dropped to the floor. Cassie recognized death in his loose-limbed sprawl and empty eyes. And no one had touched him.

She stared at Len’s killer. Was she imagining the slight change in his face—the more predatory shape of his eyes, a more dangerous slant to his mouth? Cassie blinked. Of course she was. No way could she trust any of her senses right now.

It was too much, too much. She slowly slid down the wall until she was sitting. She opened her hand and released the bloody piece of glass. Cassie couldn’t even blink as she stared past Felicity, Tony, and Len. She’d finally found something that frightened her more than dead bodies.

He ignored her as he methodically stripped Len of his clothes. He pulled on the dead man’s pants and shrugged into his shirt. He glanced at the shoes. “Too damn big.” But he put them on anyway. Finally, he turned his attention to her.

“What’s your name?” He moved closer.

Cassie should be a shaking, drooling puddle of terror, but she felt strangely calm. Her heart still pounded way too fast, and she knew her breathing wasn’t normal, but she felt detached from what was going on around her. He would kill her now. He didn’t need to know her name to do that. But she couldn’t work up enough emotion to care. “Cassie.”

He crouched in front of her. “Well, Cassie, we need to get the hell out of here. Now.” He reached for her.

She started to cringe away from him but then stopped. Get out of here? He wasn’t going to kill her? Why not? Cassie’s thoughts felt as though they were slogging through knee-deep mud, each word coming loose with a sucking sound.

His black gaze pierced her. “Here’s the deal. If you stay in this room, Roland Garrity will take care of the job that Tony and Len botched. Even if you run home, you’ll die. You can’t hide from him.” He grabbed her hand and hauled her to her feet.

She flinched at the sharp pain in her cut palm.

He didn’t miss her reaction. Loosening his grip, he examined her bloody palm. “Nasty cut.” He glanced up at her from under thick dark lashes. “It’s not wise to tempt me.” Without warning, he bent his head and slid his tongue across her palm.

The stroke felt warm, and weird, and something . . . more. What should have been a shudder turned into a shiver. But she stopped wondering about her strange reaction as she stared at her palm. The cut was closing. And within a few heartbeats, she couldn’t see where it had been. “What . . . ? How . . . ?” She knew her eyes must be wide and staring.

He didn’t bother answering. “We’re wasting time. Let’s go.”

“What if I don’t want to go with you?” She realized she was in shock, but even knowing that, she couldn’t shake the inertia holding her in its grip.

“Did I say you had a choice?”

He led her to the door, and she didn’t fight him. Even through the shattered reality messing with her mind right now, she recognized the futility of trying to escape.

“I need to call the police.” She glanced back at Felicity. Her friend was dead. Soon the horror of what had happened would crash over her, and she’d drown in her what-ifs and should-haves. But not now. Now her mind was still wrapped in a cotton wool world.

“No police.” He barely touched the door and it swung open. “Tony would’ve had instructions to call in as soon as you were dead. He hasn’t called, so Garrity will know that something went wrong. Right now all of his people will be on their way. We don’t want to be here when they arrive.” He pulled her into the elevator and hit the top button.

“But the police . . .”

He hissed at her. “By the time the police get here, the bodies will be gone. Where’s your purse?”

“How can they get rid of the bodies so fast?” She winced. When had Felicity become just a body?

Cassie was starting to think again. She needed her cell phone and her car keys. Once out of the elevator, she ran down the hall with him right behind her. She grabbed her jacket and purse before following him out the back door. Night had fallen while people died in the funeral home’s basement. She was selfish enough to be thankful she hadn’t been one of them.

“They have . . . resources. Where did you park your car?”

“Out front.” She hadn’t wanted her car sitting in the funeral home’s parking lot. Stupid. As if death would stick to her tires if she parked it there.

They were almost to the street when he suddenly grew still—not moving, not even breathing. Cassie looked away. His complete stillness creeped her out. She scanned the street. Quiet. A mixture of homes and businesses. For the first time, she really thought about running.

“Don’t. I’d catch you. Besides, we don’t have time for that crap. I can feel them. Any minute now they’ll turn the corner and see us.” He’d emerged from his suspended animation thing and herded her toward the street.

How had he known . . . ? No, she’d think about that later.

When they reached her car, he took her keys from her and slid into the driver’s seat. She didn’t argue. Her mind was starting to function, and depending on his answers to her questions, she might decide to bail at a stoplight along the way. Then she remembered. He could kill without touching his victim.

“Won’t need to kill you. All the doors are locked. Relax and enjoy the ride.” He pulled away from the curb and merged into Philly traffic.

Cassie sucked in her breath. Okay, she couldn’t ignore it this time. Her fear had receded a little, but now it came flooding back. “You were in my mind.” Breathe, breathe. “Look at me.”

He glanced at her and smiled. The smile didn’t reach his eyes.

Blue eyes. Straight, even teeth. She folded her hands in her lap to stop their shaking. Had she hallucinated the black eyes and fangs? Had seeing Felicity’s corpse pushed her over the edge? She closed her eyes for a moment, and once again saw his body lying in that glass coffin with the headstone beside it. She opened her eyes.

“Is your name Ethan?”

“Yes.” He didn’t elaborate.

“Where’re we going?”

“To check on some friends.”

Ask him. The sensation of the world she thought she knew flipping upside down made her want to throw up. Ask him. Cassie had never thought she was a coward except for her horror of dead bodies. But at least there was a good reason for that particular phobia. The fear she’d felt in that room, though, proved she’d never make anyone’s top ten fearless women list. To make up for her total shutdown back there, she had to ask him.

“What are you?” Please, please don’t say it.

“I’m vampire.” He never took his eyes from traffic. “But you knew that already, didn’t you?”

“There are no such things as—”

“There are. I’m one. Get over it. We don’t have time for you to have hysterics.” His voice was cold, devoid of any sympathy, any understanding.

“Bastard.” She didn’t know how he’d react to name-calling, but for just this moment she didn’t care. Surprised, she realized that some of her fear had faded. No matter what he was, or said he was, he hadn’t killed her yet. Maybe a person could only sustain mind-numbing terror for so long.

“Technically, no. If you’re making a judgment of my character, though, then you’ve nailed it. Give me your phone.”

Cassie pulled her cell phone from her purse and handed it to him, then watched as he tapped in a number while weaving in and out of traffic.

“That’s dangerous.”

He took his attention from the road to stare at her. “I can’t die.”

“I can.” Did anyone really have eyes that blue? Pale skin, blue eyes, dark hair. She’d guess at an Irish ancestry. But then what did she know about vampires? They all had pale skin, didn’t they?

Vampire. She flinched as she thought the word. Even after everything she’d seen, she wasn’t doing a great job of wrapping her mind around the realness of him.

She waited quietly as he tried to make his call, then another and another. No one answered. He didn’t leave any messages. And he didn’t return her phone.

“Something’s wrong.” He sped up.

“You think?” She was substituting snark for courage.

A short time later, he parked on a street lined with row houses. Cassie didn’t have a clue what part of the city this was. She’d moved to Philly a month ago to search for a job. The city was still strange to her, and getting stranger every minute.

They got out and he led her down a side street before turning into an alley that ran behind the houses. “We’ll be going in the back way.”

Cassie didn’t care which entrance they used. She was still fixated on the vampire thing. “If you’re a vampire, couldn’t you just dematerialize and pop up wherever you wanted? Avoid traffic?” Avoid women who won’t shut up? She closed her mouth.

“Not one of my powers. But I can move so fast humans think that I’ve vanished. Can’t move that quickly right now, though. Energy’s low. I was in that damn coffin for days. And killing Len drained whatever I had left. I need to feed.” He glanced at her. “Want to volunteer?”

She widened her eyes. He was joking, right? “Umm, no.”

He looked away and picked up his pace. He was walking so fast now that she almost had to run to keep up.

“Too bad.” He didn’t sound as though he was joking.

She could see him studying a man who was outside emptying his trash. Don’t even think about it. She wouldn’t survive watching him chug down a human energy drink. Cassie rushed into speech. “Where’re we going?”

“To my house. Three of my friends are staying there with me.” His eyes narrowed. “None of them answered when I tried to call.”

Please, no more life-or-death moments today. Sudden weariness washed over her. Her adrenaline supply must be running low. “Won’t Garrity check there first?”

“He didn’t capture me there, so he might not know about it.” His smile was a mere baring of teeth. “And if he does, he’ll think I’m too smart to go home. He vastly overestimates my intelligence.”

“But what if he has people watching the place?”

“I’ll kill them.”

His answer would’ve horrified Cassie this morning. Now? It made perfect sense.

He finally slowed down and moved into the shadows. Silently, he pointed at a brick row house with a green rocker on the back porch. She covered her mouth to keep from giggling at the image of a vampire rocking on his porch. Or maybe the urge to giggle was the first stage of hysteria.

Sliding along fences and gliding around trash cans—he slid and glided, she shuffled and tripped—they drew close to the house. Then he raised his hand to stop her. He grew still again, and she held her breath. She wanted the house to be empty so they could leave for somewhere safe.

“There’s one person in there.” He sounded grim.

She didn’t question how he knew. “Anyone you know?”

“Yes.” With no other explanation, he guided her to the back door. He did his magic door-opening thing again and slipped into a darkened kitchen. He beckoned her inside.

Cassie was beyond thought, beyond feeling, beyond everything. Right now he was the only real thing in her life. So she followed him.

He moved quietly into what must be the living room. She couldn’t hear his footsteps. Behind him, she was an elephant tramping through a field of bubble wrap, announcing her presence with every step she took.

For the first time, she noticed the smell. It was coppery and too familiar.

He stopped so suddenly that she almost slammed into his back.

“Hello, Ethan.” The male voice came from whoever was sitting in an overstuffed chair she could see silhouetted in the darkness.

“Dan. What’re you doing here?”

Ethan’s voice might sound neutral, but she sensed tension, and something else.

“Trying to figure out who the hell to call.” The man’s, or maybe vampire’s, voice sounded terrified. “I couldn’t reach you on your cell. Then I came here. I used the key you gave me. No one was here, but . . .” His voice trailed off.

Cassie moved up beside Ethan. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark and there was a tiny bit of light filtering in through the slats of the blinds. She could now see that the room was trashed—furniture overturned and pictures knocked from the wall. There were dark stains on the walls and carpet. “Is that . . . ?” Blood.

The other man said it for her. “There’s freaking blood everywhere. Fresh blood. What’s going on, Ethan?”

That explained the coppery scent. The rising panic in his voice mirrored her own emotions. She wished someone would turn on a light so she could see both of them. Then she thought of Roland Garrity hunting them and decided the darkness was just fine.

“I’ll explain later. Do you have your car?”

Cassie didn’t have to be particularly sensitive to feel Ethan’s rage. It didn’t seem aimed at the man in the chair. She thought that Roland Garrity should be very afraid.

“No. There was nowhere to park, so June just dropped me off. I told her I didn’t know how long I was staying, and I’d call her when I was ready to leave.”

Cassie had kept silent as long as she could. “Who is this, Ethan?” Using his name sort of moved him a little out of the mythic-monster column into the almost-human one.

Ethan turned to look at her. In the darkness, his face became a stranger’s again, all sharp planes and dangerous shadows. She’d been wrong. He wasn’t even close to the human column.

“This is Dan. My brother.”

Why the hell had he brought her with him, and what was he supposed to do with her? Ethan wasn’t impulsive, so his unexplained need to keep her out of Roland Garrity’s hands didn’t make any kind of sense. He should’ve just sent her on her way with a warning not to go home.

Whatever his reason, he had to park her in a safe place soon because he could feel his Second One beginning to rise. And if she thought he was terrifying now, did he have a surprise for her in a few hours.

“He’s your brother?”

Her expression said everything her words hadn’t—monsters didn’t have mothers, fathers, brothers. Definitely should’ve ditched her.

“You have a problem with that?”

“No, I was just wondering—”

“You can wonder later. I’ll grab a few clothes and then we have to get out of here.” I was just wondering how many throats you’ve torn out, how often the bloodlust drives you to murder, if you have a conscience, a soul. Not as many as you’d think, never, sometimes, and probably not. He’d keep his answers to himself, though.

He didn’t give her a chance to comment as he strode to his bedroom, crammed some clothes and shoes into a bag, and then handed the bag to his brother. Quickly, he herded everyone out the back door, through the tiny yard, and into the alley. If Garrity had someone keeping an eye on the place, they must be out front because he didn’t sense watchers nearby.

Then he paused. His place had looked as though a bomb had gone off inside it. There must’ve been lots of noise. The row houses were connected. Mrs. Kimsky didn’t get around much anymore. She would’ve been home. And what about George and Janice on his other side? They only went out on Friday nights. This was Wednesday. If any of them had heard a fight in his house, they would’ve called the police. They hadn’t.

Keep going. Being vampire means checking your emotions at the door. Yeah, that was why Cassie was standing in this alley with him. Because he was so good at not feeling anything. No use fighting it, he was going to check on his neighbors.

“I have to do something before we leave. Stay close and don’t make any noise.” He speared Cassie with a glare intended to keep her quiet for a few minutes.

Dan didn’t say anything. He knew what his brother was, and he understood the need for caution.

Ethan went through the back gate and across the small yard. Mrs. Kimsky’s door was unlocked. Not a good sign. “Step in and shut the door. Stay here and let me do the checking.”

He didn’t have far to go. What was left of his neighbor lay on the living room floor. In pieces. Blood was soaking into the carpet. The TV was still on.

“Oh, my God!” Horror filled Cassie’s hoarse whisper behind him.

He glanced back. “I told you to let me . . .”

Cassie stared at the body, her eyes wide, unblinking. There was so much fear. She shook with it. Bracing herself against the doorjamb, she covered her mouth with her hand. To hold back a scream or to keep from throwing up? Maybe both.

Ethan could hear Dan puking into the kitchen sink. “Next time listen to me.” He sounded hard. Good. He wanted them to believe he was a cold-blooded son of a bitch. Because he was—he closed his eyes for a moment—most of the time. “Open the door and get some air. Both of you. I have to find something.” He didn’t look to see if they followed his directions.

Trying to make sure he didn’t step in any blood, he went into the bathroom. He pulled a large bath towel out of the linen closet and began his hunt. A few minutes later he joined the other two at the door with a spitting, hissing bundle of pissed off cat safely wrapped in the towel. He watched Cassie’s eyes widen when she saw the bloody claw marks on his hands and arms.

He scowled at her. “What?”

She didn’t get a chance to say anything because Dan spoke. “You’re taking the old lady’s cat with you?”

Ethan didn’t have time for explanations. “Out. I have to check the people on the other side of my place.”

Everyone was silent as they walked to the second house. Ethan knew what he’d find. The hunters must’ve left the door open because he could smell blood and death long before they climbed the steps.

Dan stopped on the porch. He put the bag of clothes down. “This is as far as I’m going.”

Ethan didn’t blame him.

“Here. Hold the cat.” He shoved the animal at his brother before stepping into the house.

Cassie walked in behind him.

He paused in the kitchen. “This will be just as bad. Wait with Dan.”

“No. I need to see it.” She met his gaze. “I’ve been afraid of the dead all my life. But my best friend is one of those dead now. This is more important than my fear. I have to see what they did so I’ll never forget, so I’ll know exactly what I’m destroying when I take these animals down.”

Ethan raised one brow. Wow, where had that come from? Beneath all her fear, something fierce lived. He looked away. He didn’t want to find her interesting in any way. “You couldn’t even imagine what things did this.”

Cassie looked puzzled. “Roland Garrity’s people, right?” Then she shook her head. “No. I can’t believe humans would do that to an old woman.”

You’d be surprised what humans would do. He walked toward the dining room. “They didn’t do the actual killing, but they held the remote.” She wouldn’t understand. He hoped she’d never have to.

They found George and Janice on the stairs. They must’ve tried to flee to the second floor. It hadn’t worked. Body parts littered the steps and blood dripped over the side onto the floor below.

Cassie didn’t last this time. She ran for the downstairs bathroom and slammed the door behind her. He waited until her retching stopped. When she finally opened the door and joined him, she was pale but steady. He said nothing, only returned to the back door. He waited until she was outside before closing it carefully behind him.

But even closed, he could still smell the blood. The Second One screamed, clawing at his soul, demanding that he feed, kill. He clamped down on his hunger. But it wasn’t the hunger for blood that would grip him soon. He hoped Cassie was gone by then.

Dan took one look at the stark horror in Cassie’s eyes and didn’t ask any questions.

Ethan talked to his brother on the way to Cassie’s car. “You’re still living at June’s place?”

Dan nodded. “Things haven’t been too great between us lately, though. I’m thinking about moving back to my own condo.”

“Don’t. At least not until things are safer.” The ones who’d found him might not know about his brother, or where he lived. But Ethan didn’t want to take a chance. Dan would be safer staying with his girlfriend for now.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Frustration roughened Dan’s voice.

“Yes.” They’d reached the car. “Once I figure it out myself.”

Ethan slid into the driver’s side and headed back out into traffic. He’d made sure that Cassie was beside him. She’d be easier to control in the front seat. At least she hadn’t blurted anything about what had happened at the funeral home. In fact, she hadn’t said anything for too long. Probably in shock from the last few hours.

The only one who had anything to say on the drive was the cat, and she kept up a constant stream of yowling complaints. Finally, Ethan pulled over a few blocks from June’s apartment.

“I’ll let you out here. No one followed us, but I still don’t want to take the chance that someone might see you going into June’s building.”

Dan didn’t comment as he handed the cat over to Cassie, got out, and slammed the door. Ethan watched him walk into a store that was still open. Then he pulled away from the curb. And just when he was wondering if Cassie would ever talk again, the floodgates broke.

“We need to call the police. You can’t leave those poor people alone like that in their houses.”

“I’ll take care of it when we stop.”

“Where’re you taking me?” She didn’t do a great job of covering the quaver in her voice.

“Somewhere safe for now.”

“When are you going to explain what the hell is going on?”

“Later.”

“Wow, way to ease my fears with your detailed explanations.”

“Look, it’s been a long night. Let’s save all the questions until we can relax and get something to eat.” The word “eat” drove his hunger into a frothing frenzy. It didn’t help that he could hear her heartbeat, sense the blood coursing through her veins, and knew that all he had to do was stop the car and . . . No. He stomped the hunger into submission.

He concentrated instead on the slight shifts he could feel in his facial muscles, the tingling in his fingertips, and the tightening of Len’s borrowed shirt across his shoulders. Not enough change for her to notice yet. But soon, very soon, she’d see.

There was a long simmering pause.

“Why did you bring the cat?”

“To eat. You wouldn’t volunteer, so . . .” He shrugged.

She gasped and tightened her grip on the cat. The cat rewarded her with an annoyed hiss.

If the last few days hadn’t sucked so badly, he would’ve laughed. Or maybe not. The idea that she might actually believe he ate small animals bothered him. Not comforting. Nothing she said or did should be able to touch him.

“Relax. I don’t eat cats.” He knew he sounded angry. But it seemed that everything about her made him mad. Those big brown eyes and all that blond hair don’t make you mad. Neither does the rest of her body. Okay, so maybe it was all about sex deprivation. He could live with that explanation.

She nodded and some of the tension left her. “How old is your brother?”

“Twenty-seven.”

She frowned. “Then that means you can’t be ancient.” The fact that he wasn’t seemed to bother her.

“I’m thirty-two, but I was turned when I was twenty-eight. So I’ll pretty much look that age forever.”

“But I saw you kill Len without touching him. Doesn’t a vampire have to be old and powerful to do that?”

He made an impatient sound. “Power doesn’t come with age. Wisdom does. And a smart vampire will live a long happy life.” He thought about that. “Or unlife. If that’s not a word, it should be.”

Her questions stopped for a short time while he bought cat food and litter box stuff. Once back in the car, he hoped she’d run out of things to ask.

“Why did you save me?”

There it was. The one question he’d hoped she’d keep for later. “I don’t know.” An honest answer.

She didn’t look satisfied. Too bad. Relieved, he pulled in beside Zareb’s warehouse.

Cassie seemed to finally realize they’d stopped. She looked around. “Where are we?”

“A warehouse. That’s the Delaware.” He pointed to where she could just see the river flowing dark and cold past the back of the building. “This isn’t a residential part of Philly. Once the warehouses shut down for the night, the area pretty much empties of traffic and people. We’ll be safe.”

They climbed out of the car. It was so quiet their footsteps rang loud in the darkness. Even the cat had shut up. Nothing moved. She tugged her jacket more tightly around her. The night must’ve turned cold. He felt nothing. For a moment, he considered pulling her against him, but offering warmth or comfort would only lead to other temptations. He led her toward a door hidden in the shadows.

He pressed a small button next to the door and waited. She shivered beside him, and with a frustrated curse he gave in and wrapped his arm around her. When she moved closer, he wasn’t sure if it was an attempt to get warm or a lesser-of-two-evils thing. Even a human had to pick up on the scary vibes surrounding this place.

After what seemed forever, the door creaked slowly open. No light came from inside. No one stood in the opening. If anything, the blackness seemed deeper, more silent than the night. Ethan felt Cassie cringe away from the open door.

“You’re safe.” Maybe.

He pulled her inside. The door closed behind them.

“Come.” The voice was a deep rumble. Disembodied. Terrifying.

Even knowing who spoke, Ethan couldn’t control an instinctive shudder. He led Cassie further into the darkness.

Suddenly, a candle flickered on, quickly followed by more and more until the room was ablaze with their glimmering lights. With a quiet whoosh, flames leaped in the fireplace.

A figure glided from the shadows. Tall and muscular, he moved with that strange flowing motion only very old vampires achieved, those who no longer remembered they’d once been human.

Ethan knew by Cassie’s frightened gasp when she finally got a good look at their host. And if Ethan hadn’t been determined not to make an ass of himself, he would’ve gasped too.

“Hello, Ethan.” The vampire shifted his gaze to Cassie. “You come bearing gifts. A beautiful woman and . . .”

Screeching and hissing, the cat leaped from Cassie’s arms.

“A bad-tempered cat.” He smiled. “We’ll dine well tonight.”

Ethan grabbed her hand before she could make a dash back to the door.

“Cassie, meet Zareb.” He took a deep breath he no longer needed. “My maker.”

Cassie didn’t think there was room inside her for more fear. She was wrong. Zareb had an overwhelming presence. His movements were too fast, too smooth, too predatory. He’d pulled his long black hair back and fastened it with a leather thong that had a silver medallion on it. His sharp cheekbones and exotic darkness drew attention to his eyes. He had terrifying eyes. They were slightly tilted and glowed yellow. Glowed. Yellow. No white showed, and he had vertical slits for pupils. Cat eyes.

The yellow glow should have been the scariest part of him. It wasn’t. There was something else. . . .

He captured her with his eerie stare, and suddenly she couldn’t understand why she had ever thought his eyes were strange. His gaze drew her, filled her with a yearning that was almost pain. It reached down, down to a place never touched before.

She couldn’t blink, couldn’t look away, couldn’t control the erratic beating of her heart, and couldn’t seem to breathe. Cassie gasped for air even as she sank into the alien beauty of those eyes. And if her heartbeat felt as though it was stalling, threatening to stop altogether, she couldn’t muster the energy to worry about it while the yearning grew and grew.

Cassie jerked as Ethan commanded, “Stop it.” She didn’t think he was talking to her.

Startled, she closed her eyes. She concentrated on breathing and felt her heartbeat kick back into a normal rhythm. What had just happened? You couldn’t breathe, your heart was stopping. She’d almost died.

When she opened her eyes, Zareb had turned his attention to Ethan.

“And here I thought you’d brought her as a gift to atone for abandoning your loving father.”

Ethan simply stared at him from the shadows.

Zareb smiled. “I suppose the loving father reference was a bit overdone. But you do owe me some recompense for my anger, and yes, there were a few moments—very few, I’ll admit—of heartfelt sorrow.”

Ethan made a dismissive sound. “I brought you a pet that will suit your ‘loving’ personality.”

The cat poked her head from beneath the couch and hissed her general discontent with everyone in the room.

Zareb’s smile widened. “So you have.”

Cassie’s whole body thrummed with her need to run to the door, rip it open, and race screaming into the night. Her instinct had it right, but her mind insisted she listen to reason.

Even if she could escape, even if she could go home, even if she could be safe there . . . Okay, so none of those “even ifs” were viable options. And it wasn’t just about her anymore. If she tried to run to family, to friends, she’d put them in danger too. The police? They’d question her and then release her. Back to square one.

Besides, wherever she went, her nightmares would follow. She still saw Felicity’s body and those other people when she closed her eyes. If Cassie didn’t do something to help stop the ones who had murdered her friend, she might never sleep again.

At this moment, Ethan offered her a lifeline, even if it was frayed and liable to dump her into the deep without warning.

She blinked hard. No tears. Not yet. She would do the sobbing and wailing thing in private, if they ever allowed her to be alone again. If she lived long enough. Until then, Cassie would stuff the huge empty place inside her with answers to her questions. She took a deep breath and met Zareb’s gaze. “What did you just do to me?”

“Women.” Zareb’s sigh was filled with drama and sly amusement. “They can never just accept things. They always want explanations.”

Thank heaven he didn’t try to meet her gaze.

“I was merely playing. I rarely allow myself recreation time. You wouldn’t have died.” He cast a quick glance her way. “I’m very careful not to kill unless it’s unavoidable. I’ve killed often over the centuries, and the Second One is too close, too powerful now.”

What did that even mean? Since he didn’t offer to explain, she launched another question. “Did you make Ethan vampire because he was dying and that was the only way you could save him?”

He looked surprised in the same way he would if the cat had spoken to him. “No. I was bored that night, and I hadn’t made any children in a long time.” He shrugged powerful shoulders. “It was simply a need to procreate. So I made Ethan vampire.” His full lips twitched in the tiniest of smiles. “He was angry with me for a very long time. In fact, this is the first time he’s visited me of his own free will. I’m ecstatic.”

Well, Cassie could get rid of any heart-of-gold hopes she had regarding him.

Zareb looked at Ethan. “I assume there’s some pressing reason for your presence here.”

“We have a situation.”

Ethan still stood in the shadows. Cassie frowned. She couldn’t see his features clearly, but she would swear there was something different about him, something changing. She pushed the thought away. Too much had happened today, and her mind was probably a little unreliable right now.

Zareb glanced at the cat hiding under his couch and at Cassie. “Yes, we do.” He motioned toward the couch. “Since you’ve already interrupted my busy night, you may as well sit down.”

Cassie walked to the couch and sat on the edge. The cat seemed to think that underneath it was a better place to be. The cat was probably right. Ethan didn’t leave the shadows.

Zareb stood beside the couch staring at Ethan. “You killed tonight.”

“How did you know?” The question just popped out of Cassie. And when Zareb turned his yellow gaze on her, she felt her courage shrivel and crawl down her throat. He was just that scary.

“The Second One is rising.”

Zareb evidently thought his explanation was sufficient because he turned back to Ethan. “You have about two hours. The woman must eat and you must feed. I was about to make a dinner run when you arrived, and since the woman doesn’t seem to be on the menu, I’ll pick up something for you on the way back.” His eyes narrowed, yellow cat eyes filled with darkness. “Do I need to bring the others with me?”

“Yes.”

Cassie’s heartbeat picked up its pace. Ethan’s voice . . . It was different—deeper, smoother, more threatening. And for one mad moment she wanted to ask Zareb to take her with him. Then she thought about his eyes. Maybe not. He moved toward the door.

“Wait.” Cassie couldn’t do much for the dead, but this one thing she could do. “The police. They need to know about the dead people in those houses.” She didn’t know why that was so important to her. The dead sure didn’t care. But she cared.

Zareb raised one brow. “Dead people?” He looked at Ethan.

“The dead are in the houses next to mine. I didn’t kill them. Explanations when you come back.”

Zareb nodded. “I’ll make an anonymous call.”

“You know where I live?” Ethan sounded surprised, and not too happy.

“Of course.” Zareb sounded amused. “I made you. You can never hide from me.” And then he was gone.

Silence settled over the room, the shadows seemed to thicken, and Cassie’s fear expanded exponentially. She took a deep breath. “You may as well come out where I can see you. Not knowing what’s going on is scaring me more than if you’ve morphed into something gross.”

Ethan’s cold laughter scraped along her nerves, frightening enough for her to rethink her come-out-of-the-shadows request. Some things were better not seen.

Too late. He moved so quickly that she didn’t even have time to gasp, to run into the bathroom and hope the door had a lock. He was simply there beside her on the couch.

Cassie stared at him and swallowed hard. Don’t scream. Prey screamed. Prey ran. Prey died.

He leaned close and smiled. “It will get worse before it gets better.”

She couldn’t look away, a bird caught by a raptor’s stare. He looked bigger, harder. He’d split Len’s shirt, exposing a broad expanse of muscled chest and abs. Cassie was tempted to continue staring at his chest, because the rest of him was . . .

“Look at me.”

The voice in her head was warm and rough and an absolute compulsion. Slowly, reluctantly, she lifted her gaze to his face.

Cassie now knew the true meaning of terrifying beauty. His hair had become a silken fall so black that it shone with blue highlights. And his face . . . What was happening to his face? His eyes seemed larger, and they now had the same tilt as Zareb’s eyes. They were green with no white showing and vertical slits for pupils. Cat eyes.

She pushed words past lips that felt frozen. “Will they be yellow like Zareb’s?”

He nodded. “Blue and yellow make green. In two hours they’ll be pure yellow.”

His voice was darkness, leading to places she feared but would explore if he beckoned. No. She wouldn’t explore anywhere with him. His eyes probably had the same power that Zareb’s had. Even as she pummeled herself for her momentary weakness, she reached out to run her fingers lightly along his jaw and watched it clench.

“Is this the Second One you’ve been talking about?” If so, he was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Words couldn’t describe him, so she didn’t try. Cassie only knew his beauty hurt, a deep hungry hurt that made her yearn. . . .

Cassie yanked her hand away from his face. She knew her eyes were wide. “You’re doing the same thing that Zareb was doing.”

He didn’t look away. “Not yet. Even Zareb wasn’t showing you the full power of the Second One.”

“Explain.” She was tired of not knowing, not understanding. Cassie had been lost since the moment she’d walked into Eternal Rest Funeral Home.

Ethan finally moved. He stood and then paced over to the fireplace. “The ones who wrote the vampire legends were wrong.” He stood with his back to the flames. “It was never about bloodlust. We can feed whenever we want. We’re no more ruled by our hunger than you are.” He turned his back to the fire and stared at her. “It was always about the kill.”

“Zareb said he knew you’d killed because the Second One was rising. Who or what is the Second One?” Fascinated, she watched his face changing in small increments even as they talked—lower lip growing fuller, lashes lengthening, each change making him more breathtaking. Then she looked away. Beauty that hurt to look at couldn’t be good.

“The First One is our humanity. Even as vampire it’s dominant unless we kill. The act of killing wakens the Second One.”

“You make it sound as though the Second One is a separate entity.” Trying to keep from staring at him became harder with every passing moment.

“It is. The Second One is an elemental consciousness passed on in the blood my maker used to create me. It lies dormant until it senses a kill. It doesn’t care about conscience or human emotions. Its primal drive is to destroy.”

“After what I saw today, I don’t think you need any help in the killing department.” Fear coated Cassie’s thoughts, making it tough for her to concentrate. He’s turning into this thing. I’m alone with him, alone with him, alone with—She shook her head to clear it.

“What I did today is my particular vampire talent, not attached to the Second One. I have control of when and how I use it.”

“Meaning you don’t have control of the Second One.” She stared down at her hands. Blood. Her hands were covered with dried blood. So were the rest of her clothes, even her shoes. How had she not noticed before this? His voice dragged her back.

“I can’t stop the change. It’s not that it makes me lose control, it’s . . .” For the first time he seemed lost for words.

“Yes?” No matter what he said, it wouldn’t matter, because Cassie had reached her limit for shocking disclosures. Her mind was beginning to shut down, refusing to react emotionally, trying to protect itself. A little too late.

“Scientists are finding out more things about the brain every day.”

She blinked. What the hell did that have to do with anything?

“Some believe that beauty stimulates primal brain circuits. It’s not a response anyone can control any more than they can control their reaction to cocaine.” He shrugged. “And if the beauty is extreme, it acts as an overdose and—”

“People die.” She remembered the feeling of her heart slowing, faltering, almost stopping. “I can’t believe it.” But she did.

“The beauty of the Second One’s face attracts its victims, its eyes hold them captive while it kills.” He turned to face the fireplace, his back straight, tension radiating from him. “In two hours you won’t be able to look at me. If you try, the Second One will kill you. I’ll be Medusa in reverse.”

She swallowed her fear as she stood. “Then I won’t look at you.” Even though I want to so badly it hurts. “I . . . I have to take a shower, change clothes.” She raked her fingers through her tangled hair. She couldn’t think. Clothes. She didn’t have any, and she couldn’t see herself returning to Felicity’s condo anytime soon.

“The bathroom is down the hall to the right. There’s a lock on the door.”

Left unsaid was that a lock probably wouldn’t stop a determined vampire. But Cassie was too desperate to shed her bloody clothes, to scrub the blood from her body to care. “Clothes?”

“The closet across from the bathroom. Zareb . . . entertains a lot. You should find something to fit you.”

Cassie nodded even though he still faced the fireplace. She grabbed her purse and scurried down the hallway. From the closet she grabbed a top, pants, and a pair of shoes that looked as though they’d fit, then locked herself in the bathroom.

A little of her tension eased away as the hot water sluiced over her body. Cassie scrubbed until her skin felt raw, until not a speck of blood remained. And she thought about Ethan.

What she’d felt when she looked at him, the yearning, wasn’t the same as what she’d felt for Zareb. Yes, she understood that in both cases she was reacting to the Second One in them, but still, it had felt different with Ethan—more personal, more . . . something.

Once out of the shower, she used the dryer lying on the counter for her hair and then pulled her makeup bag from her purse. The makeup, the hair, they were important. They gave her confidence, and confidence along with a few weapons would be all she’d have tonight. And Ethan. A vampire. Funny, just when she’d thought she had life figured out, it had given her a swift kick in the behind.

Cassie was still thinking about her reaction to Ethan as she dressed in her borrowed clothes and then returned to the living room. Head down, lost in thought, she had almost reached the couch before the complete silence hit her—no greeting from Ethan, no hisses from the cat, not even the crackling of the fire. She looked up.

Vampires, lots of them, stood in the shadows at the edges of the room. Motionless, silent, they watched her from gleaming eyes, hungry eyes. Except for one. He wore sunglasses and had a hoodie that hid most of his face. Which was scarier, what she could or couldn’t see? Her breath caught in her throat.

Zareb broke the silence. “Ethan told me what happened to both of you.” He pointed to a bag he’d set on the coffee table. “I stopped at McDonald’s. Ethan already ate.” He didn’t offer to explain.

A vampire stopping at McDonald’s. That should make her laugh, but all Cassie could do was shudder at the thought of all those silent killers listening as the water ran—imagining, hungering.

“My children and I will be paying a visit to Eternal Rest as soon as Ethan’s change is complete.” The predator lived in Zareb’s voice, his gaze. “You’ll stay here with the cat.”

Cassie opened her mouth and said what was probably the most stupid thing she’d ever uttered.

“No.”

“Did she just defy you, Zareb?” Darren’s voice was quietly mocking.

Ethan frowned. Darren wasn’t one of his favorite vampire brothers. He’d killed too often with too much enjoyment, and now the Second One was close to claiming him permanently. It made him eager for violence wherever he could find it. At least he’d had the sense to wear his sunglasses and hoodie.

“Can you allow that to go unpunished?” Darren injected a fake note of concern into his voice.

Ethan ground his teeth. He’d gladly separate Darren’s useless head from his shoulders. The jerk wanted to see Zareb hurt Cassie. He lived for causing pain.

One glance at Cassie assured Ethan that she recognized the danger too. He crouched. When had his mind made the decision to defend her against his maker?

Zareb didn’t even glance at Darren. “Your need to see blood flow is much too obvious. Do you really think you can manipulate me, Darren?”

“Of course not.” Darren sounded nervous as he moved farther into the shadows.

Zareb’s smile never reached his eyes. “I didn’t think so.” He looked at Cassie. “And why do you think you should come with us?” His expression gave away nothing.

She fixed her gaze on the middle of his chest. “If someone found Ethan’s home and attacked his friends, then who’s to say they don’t have a list of where all of you live? I don’t think Cat and I would do a great job of defending the old homestead.”

“I’m certain that Cat is a ferocious warrior.” Zareb’s lips tipped up in a brief smile.

Ethan relaxed a little.

“Besides, they killed my friend. I want . . .” She took a deep breath. “I need to be there to see that they’re punished.”

Zareb nodded. “I understand the hunger for vengeance.”

She corrected him. “Justice.”

He shrugged. “Call it what you will. You deserve to see them punished.”

“You’re letting her come?” Ethan narrowed his eyes. Amazing. His maker didn’t do crap like this. Stupid. Who took a human into battle anyway?

Zareb moved toward the door. “Yes.”

Ethan didn’t even try to explain away his need to protect her. “She’ll die.”

“It’s her choice.” Zareb’s expression said the decision was made.

Ethan glared as he watched his maker head for the door. “Do you still keep your weapons in the same place?”

Zareb paused. “Yes. You’re going to arm her? Excellent idea. I’ve learned that the least capable among us often perform extraordinary feats given the right incentives.” Then he left. The other vampires disappeared after him.

“And sometimes the ‘least capable’ have skills that could put your butt in the ground.” Her mumbled response was almost lost in the slamming of the door.

Ethan would have smiled, but he was too pissed to find anything funny right now. “You’d be a lot safer here.”

Her gaze challenged him. “I’ll be a lot ‘safer’ if I operate under the assumption that hiding isn’t an option until these animals are stopped. Because from what you’ve told me, they’re very good at finding people, and a false sense of security could kill me.”

Cassie was wrong. She hadn’t seen what they’d be facing.

He reached for another argument. “What do you fear the most, Cassie?” Whatever it was, he’d use it to convince her to stay away from Eternal Rest.

“Having to cook dinner for my whole family? World’s worst cook here.” Her smile was small and tight, but at least it reached her eyes.

“Right. Won’t have to cook Garrity dinner.” He searched his mind for a clue to her real fears.

Then he remembered her words when she’d seen the bodies of his neighbors: “I’ve been afraid of the dead all my life.”

“Death. You’re afraid to die.” He knew he sounded triumphant. “If you go with us, there’s a good chance it could happen.”

She ignored him.

Frustrated, he watched her pull on a borrowed jacket. If she was determined to go, he’d have to give her a weapon, for all the good it would do. Ethan turned to head down the hallway. He pulled open the door to the smallest bedroom, strode to the walk-in closet, and took the key from the hook beside the door.

“Wait.” Her voice was right behind him. “Did you just get that key off the wall? I didn’t see a key there.”

“You weren’t supposed to see it. A cloaking spell. Zareb wears many hats. Sorcerer is one of them.” He hoped he sounded as angry as he felt.

He could sense her rolling this latest bit of weirdness around in her mind. He yanked open the door and turned on the closet light.

“Wow.” Her hushed exclamation said it all.

“Wow, indeed.” He stepped inside the huge walk-in closet and studied the hundreds of weapons lining its walls. “Can you shoot a gun?” As he spoke he lifted a small handgun from the wall.

“Yes.” She reached past him and chose a different one.

He frowned. “Why not the one I picked?”

“I’ve practiced with this one.”

He watched as she chose ammunition and deftly loaded the gun. She shoved it into her purse.

Ethan studied her. “You’re different from when I first met you.”

She didn’t answer, just lifted a knife from the wall, chose a sheath, and strapped it to her thigh.

“That’s a big-ass knife.”

“That’s why I like it.” She started to turn away.

“This is the real you, isn’t it? So who was that person back in the funeral home?”

Her eyes looked flat, expressionless. “I killed the binder, didn’t I? Oh, and I still don’t know what a binder is.”

“You got lucky. Who taught you how to use a gun and knife?”

“My grandfather.”

He picked up on the slight hesitation before she said “grandfather.”

Ethan had a gut feeling. “Does your grandfather have anything to do with your fear of death?” Maybe she’d seen him die. That could be traumatic for a kid.

He needed to know, and he was prepared to stand here until she told him. Ethan didn’t have a clue why knowing was so important to him. This whole not-having-a-clue thing was getting old fast.

She met his gaze, and for a moment he thought she’d refuse to explain. But then she sighed and looked past him. “I’m not afraid of death. I’m afraid of dead bodies.”

“Why?”

Cassie hesitated, and he could almost hear her inner battle.

“I’d like to know.” He tried to soften his voice, but he hadn’t done soft in a lot of years. His “soft” probably sounded like an angry growl.

He told himself that she knew his secrets so it was only fair that he know hers. But that wasn’t the reason at all.

“My grandparents lived on a farm. Once a year my parents would leave me with them for a week. I loved the animals and all that space to play. My grandmother spoiled me the whole time I was there. My grandfather was a scary man once my parents had gone, though. He never touched me, but I saw how he treated his animals, how he treated Grandma. Even though she was afraid of him, she begged me not to tell my parents, because if he got mad he’d have one of his ‘spells.’ She swore he was a good man, just crotchety in his old age. I was young, so I believed her.” She still wouldn’t look at him. “When I was ten years old, my grandmother died. She’d been sick, and one afternoon my grandfather came in from working in the fields to find her dead in her bed. He told me to go into the room and say my last good-byes to her. I was frightened. I refused.”

Ethan watched her raise a shaking hand to push back a strand of hair.

“He’d always been about staying strong and controlling situations. When his dogs didn’t obey him, he tied them to a tree. When Grandma didn’t obey him . . .” She shook her head. “I don’t really know because she never told me, but I suspect it must’ve been bad for her to fear him that much. He’d taught me to hunt, to know my way around most weapons by the time I was eight. He saw my refusal to go into that room as weakness. His cure was to chain me to my grandmother’s bed, close the bedroom door, and leave me alone with her corpse for two days.”

Ethan couldn’t believe his explosion of fury. He hoped the man was still alive so he could kill him. The Second One murmured its approval.

“He released me on the third day. The first thing I did was to run all the way to the next farm and call my parents. They came and took me away. I never saw the old man again. I refused to talk about him, but a few months later Mom told me that he’d been committed and that he would never hurt me again.” She laughed softly. “It was too late, though. That particular horse had already left the barn.” Cassie finally looked directly at him. “But after what happened in the funeral home, after what they did to Felicity, you can count on me to do my part tonight.”

“Is he still alive?”

“No.” Then she walked away. “Let’s get going before your maker sends someone to see what’s keeping you.” She didn’t glance back as she walked into the living room. She stopped at the door. “Did you feed the cat?”

He almost smiled. Almost. Such an ordinary question in the midst of extraordinary events. “Yes. And Zareb took care of the litter box.” Something he’d never thought to see his maker doing. He would’ve taken a picture and loaded it onto YouTube if he hadn’t thought that Zareb would kill him.

Ethan had stopped to pull a hoodie from the closet. His change was almost complete. From this moment until the Second One retreated, Cassie couldn’t see his face. He pulled the hood far enough forward so he was hidden in shadow. On the way out, he picked up his sunglasses.

She frowned. “The Second One?”

He nodded.

Then they left. Cassie didn’t say anything until they were in her car. “No one waited for us.”

“We’ll meet up near Eternal Rest. They’ll all come in their own cars. They’ll park a few blocks away and wait for Zareb to give instructions.”

“Cars?” She smiled. “I’m disappointed. I thought vampires would have a sexier way of getting around than that. I know you don’t do the dematerializing thing, but how about flying? Do vampires fly?”

“No.” Ethan knew she was trying to sound calm, but he could hear her quickened heartbeat, sense her tension. “If we could do all the things myths say we can do, we’d have conquered the world centuries ago. We have preternatural speed and strength, enhanced senses, and our own specific gifts. And if you belong to my bloodline, you have the Second One.”

She remained silent for a few minutes, and Ethan was hopeful that she’d run out of questions. She hadn’t.

“I was in the shower when you explained things to Zareb. So how did you end up in that glass coffin? And please tell me what a binder is?”

He kept his attention on the road. He didn’t want to repeat the story, but she had a right to know. “I was in Jersey when they caught me.” He wouldn’t go into details about the chase, about how the hell they even found him. “They shot me up with something to keep me weak until they got back to Eternal Rest. Then they took my clothes and dumped me into the coffin. I was still too weak to do anything when the binder came in with his freaking headstone.” Where had they found someone like him?

“They? Who are ‘they’?”

“I don’t know. Some kind of hunters.” Human, but not human. And they’d brought beasts with them. His mind skittered away from thoughts of the beasts.

“So explain ‘binder.’”

Ethan could feel her gaze on him, but he didn’t turn to glance at her. He couldn’t take the chance that she’d see his face. “A binding spell bends someone to your will, makes them do what you want them to do.” He shook his head. “But I’ve never seen or felt anything like this. Tony brought in his headstone, set it next to me, and suddenly I couldn’t move a muscle. I was like that for days.” He’d fought, tried to at least twitch. Nothing. He was a mind trapped in a useless body. He’d never admit how terrified he was. “I don’t know where Garrity found someone that powerful.”

Cassie nodded. “The etching on the tombstone showed you wrapped in chains and a lock on the coffin. So he made you feel exactly what his drawing depicted.”

“I don’t know why they wanted me, or why they put me in a glass coffin. I need answers.” He hoped he would get those answers tonight.

Even though Ethan suspected that Cassie had more questions, she stayed silent for the rest of the drive. He parked her car three blocks from the funeral home. His car was still in Jersey. At least he hoped it was.

Once out of the car, Ethan moved close to her. Her emotions touched him—fear, sorrow, anger, determination. He’d tried to stay clear of the feelings of others in the past. Nothing good came from allowing yourself to be sucked into the maelstrom of human emotions. Involvement made you careless, vulnerable.

He recognized the risks. But this time he couldn’t resist. Ethan wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Whatever goes down when we get there, Zareb will want me to go in first because I have the big guns tonight. He’ll follow me in. He’ll choose a few others to go in with us. The rest will stay outside to deal with guards or anyone trying to flee.”

“What about me?” Her expression said that if they planned to tuck her safely behind some tree, they could just forget about it.

“I want you between Zareb and me. It’ll be the safest place. You know what I can do. And Zareb is old enough to remember the pharaohs. Hell, he might’ve been one. He has crazy survival skills.”

She nodded, her whole body tense.

He couldn’t help himself, Ethan reached over with his free hand and slid his fingers along her clenched jaw. “I’m here.” Stupid words. They’d mean nothing to her.

She drew a deep shuddering breath and relaxed into him. “Thanks.”

And that one word made him feel . . . good. No matter what they’d find when they reached Garrity’s, or how much the Second One’s need for violence pushed at him, right now, with her human warmth pressed against his side, he was content. Not a word anyone would use to describe him.

Ethan stilled as he felt the familiar touch in his mind. Zareb could get into his brain without Ethan even knowing he was there, but his maker always announced his presence as a courtesy.

Ethan listened to Zareb’s message and then spoke to Cassie. He made sure he didn’t look at her as he talked. “Zareb just did some mental messaging. He’s already at Eternal Rest. Armed guards are scattered around the place. People are moving things out in a hurry. Guess they figure they might get company. He’s not going for sneaky. As soon as we get there, we’ll go in.”

“Good. I don’t think I’d survive a long wait.” She paused. “Can all vampires read minds?”

He slowed down a little as they got closer to the funeral home, his senses alive to any enemy who might be nearby. “Most can read human minds, but nonhuman minds are tougher. A maker is always able to access the minds of those he created.”

She smiled. “Well, at least you didn’t shatter all of my illusions about the children of the night.” Cassie stared into the darkness. “We must be close.”

He nodded.

She opened her purse and rested her hand on the gun inside.

Ethan leaned down until he could whisper in her ear. “I’ll keep you safe tonight. Trust me?” Stupid question. He was a vampire.

“Yes.”

He released her and beckoned her deeper into the shadows. He put his finger to his lips. They crept from building to building until they finally worked their way around to the back of Eternal Rest.

Zareb glided from the darkness. Ethan could see the silhouettes of the four other vampires who would go inside with them. He only hoped crazy Darren wasn’t one of them.

Zareb’s whisper was brief. “Ethan, Cassie, and I will go in the back door. The rest of you will go around to the front. If everyone else did their jobs, the outside guards should be gone by now.” Zareb watched the other vampires fade into the night. He avoided meeting Ethan’s gaze as he nodded at him. “Let’s go.” He didn’t even glance at Cassie. “Oh, and the door’s locked.”

Ethan turned his head away as he spoke to her. “Don’t hesitate to kill.” He took his place in front of her and faced the back door. “And whatever you do, don’t look at my face.”

He pulled the hoodie from his head, took off his glasses and shoved them into a pocket, then lifted his foot and kicked in the door.

No plan? Just kick down the door and wing it? Where was the damn plan? Cassie’s heart was beating so fast she thought it might explode from her chest. That would pretty much put a kink in their covert action. Covert? Hah.

She gripped her gun as she wondered how Zareb would even know if his outside vampires had gotten rid of all the guards. No sounds of a struggle, no screams, no grunts or triumphant whoops. Cassie didn’t want to think about fanged shadows moving silently through the night.

Then she remembered what Ethan had said about a vampire’s power to read thoughts. Zareb would be connected mentally to all of his children. He was probably in her mind right now too.

A soft chuckle from behind Cassie shivered up her spine.

“Why would I not be there? Your mind is a delight, Cassie.” Zareb’s whisper seemed way too close. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m in everyone else’s mind as well, even the enemy’s. My only limit is distance.”

She forced herself not to respond. Instead, she stared at Ethan’s back as he strode down the hallway. He was all power and smooth deadly grace. And even in the midst of her panic attack, his presence did weird things to her nervous system.

Zareb spoke softly. “If I’m not mistaken, four of them are heading our way right now, and they’re extremely pissed off.”

The sound of running footsteps snapped her attention back to the hallway. Four men rushed toward them, guns in one hand and swords in the other. Swords? Really? They looked human to her—no fangs when they snarled—but they moved faster than a human would. What were they?

The need for action was almost a relief. Cassie pulled her gun from her purse. But she needn’t have bothered.

Ethan waited. The men facing him slid to a stop and then just stared. They dropped their weapons. Their expressions slowly shifted from fury to something so creepy that it made Cassie shiver. They looked as though they were in some sort of ecstatic trance—eyes half closed, mouths twisted in grotesque travesties of smiles. They stayed frozen like that while she held her breath. Then they simply collapsed. She exhaled. She recognized death in their loose-limbed sprawl.

Don’t shake, don’t shake. Whatever those men had seen in their last moments had killed them. For the first time, the Second One became real.

“But they died happy. How many of us will be able to say that?” Zareb’s voice in her head sounded mildly amused.

Cassie tried to control her horror. She’d seen enough violent death today to fill several lifetimes. Zareb’s attitude shouldn’t shock her. But it did.

“When you live thousands of years, Cassie, death becomes an old friend.” Zareb spoke aloud as he watched the vampires he’d sent around to the front entrance coming toward them.

Ethan pulled his hoodie over his head again. He hadn’t spoken or looked at them since they’d entered Eternal Rest.

Cassie couldn’t stop the questions flooding her mind. If the Second One was in control, did it recognize her? Did it care about any of them? The thought of a cold emotionless entity crouching inside Ethan’s body not only terrified her but also made her incredibly sad. She forced her gaze from him.

Zareb didn’t ask the others if they’d cleared the front of the building. The fact that they were standing here proved they had.

Cassie tried not to stare at the bodies. “Those were humans, weren’t they? Then how were they able to move like vampires?”

Zareb looked thoughtful. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.” He walked to Ethan’s side. “What do you think about getting into the basement?”

Ethan kept his head turned away. “If anyone is down there, they can nail us as we get off the elevator. Let’s look outside. They wouldn’t want to get trapped with just one exit. I’m betting on a trapdoor and stairs.”

“Wait.” Cassie held up her hand. “When I used the elevator, there were three buttons. The top one was ground level. I hit the bottom one and it took me to where Ethan was being kept. But there was a second button in between the other two.”

Zareb nodded. “The place probably has a sub-basement.” He looked at the vampires who’d entered by the front door. “Two of you stay here to stop anyone coming up on the elevator. The other two check out the second button. When I call for you, come down to the bottom floor.” Then he waved for Ethan and her to follow him.

Once outside, Cassie stayed close to Ethan’s back. The darkness closed around her. The brave words she’d spouted to Ethan were all lies. Fear was a scalding acid eating its way through her. Her legs shook, but she forced herself to keep going. She owed this to Felicity.

Ethan worked his way around the house, his gaze fixed on the ground. She couldn’t see anything but grass in the darkness. Finally, he stopped. He bent down and lifted a large square of what must be fake lawn. It looked exactly like the rest of the lawn to Cassie.

Then everything happened almost too fast for her to follow. Zareb stepped around her and carefully raised the trapdoor hidden beneath the grass. It didn’t make a sound. Light spilled from the opening, revealing stairs. He stood aside so Ethan could descend first.

Once again Zareb was in her mind. “Stay out of the way. I’ve called the others down. We have to do this fast and get out of here. Reinforcements will be on the way.” Then he leaped down the steps in a blur of motion.

No way would Cassie be left standing by herself in the dark. She took a deep breath. Oh, what the hell. She pulled the knife from its sheath and the gun from her purse. With a weapon in each hand, she admitted that her grandfather had done one thing right. He’d taught her to be comfortable fighting with either hand.

Cautiously, she followed the two vampires. There was no need for quiet, because as soon as Ethan and Zareb hit the basement floor, shouts and gunshots exploded.

Just as she took the last step down, silence fell. Cassie suspected what she’d find when she looked around.

Six humans—at least she assumed they were human—were caught in the Second One’s deadly web.

Zareb was busy in the corner of the room where three glass coffins rested on gurneys. A naked man lay inside each of the coffins. She shuddered. Déjà vu. There were no signs of any headstones. She’d bet that the six men had been getting ready to move the coffins out of Eternal Rest.

Cassie turned her attention to Ethan. She didn’t hear the man silently descending the stairs behind her until he shoved her to the floor. She fell to one knee and lost her grip on the gun. It slid under a nearby cabinet.

Cassie looked up in time to see the man step behind Ethan. He raised the sword he carried over his head.

Ethan’s attention was focused on the men in front of him. Even as she watched, the men started to collapse. Zareb was turned toward the coffins.

With no conscious thought, just the lessons drilled into her by the man she’d called Grandfather, Cassie raised her knife in one smooth motion and threw it. If her target was human, he was dead, because the knife was buried to the hilt in the left side of his back.

He fell and his sword clattered to the floor.

She might never have wanted to see or think about her grandfather again, but right now she was glad she hadn’t stopped practicing with weapons. Cassie had promised herself that she’d never be a victim again.

She stood up, unable to look away from the body of the man she’d killed. Bodies, so many damn bodies. She tried to close her eyes, but she couldn’t blink, couldn’t turn from the man.

Luckily, others were capable of movement. Ethan put on his sunglasses and yanked his hoodie over his head before turning around. He took in the situation at a glance. He didn’t get a chance to say anything because at that moment, the four vampires that Zareb had left above burst from the elevator.

Ethan didn’t rush over to help the others get the men out of their coffins. He moved to Cassie’s side, still keeping his face turned from her. He didn’t speak.

She needed him now—his strength, his solid presence standing between her and the body of the one who would always be her dead man, between her and the six bodies sprawled in the middle of the room. She knew she was swaying. But she didn’t move toward him, didn’t know how to relate to the Second One, wasn’t sure she even could.

And just when she thought she’d turn and run screaming up the stairs, Ethan moved. He simply took her hand and pulled her against him.

His words were almost a whisper. “Thank you.”

That’s all. But that’s all she needed. Those had been Ethan’s words. And if she was wrong, then she’d just hold on to her illusions.

Zareb moved quickly toward them along with the rest of his vampires, who were holding up the three semiconscious men they’d rescued. “We have to get out of here. I sense others coming. This isn’t the time for a stand.”

Ethan didn’t argue as he scooped her into his arms and then moved with preternatural speed. They were a blur as they all rushed up the stairs and into the darkness. Once hidden by the night, Ethan set her down.

Zareb allowed the others to scatter, but put up his hand to signal that Ethan and Cassie should wait. “I’ll destroy Eternal Rest before I leave. You head home.”

Before his words could even sink in, the funeral home exploded in flames. Cassie only had a moment to be thankful that no other buildings were close by, and then Ethan dragged her away.

Zareb disappeared in the opposite direction.

Cassie remained silent as Ethan drove. She was tired all the way to her soul, but she knew sleep would be tough tonight. If she’d thought that seeing lots of bodies would desensitize her, she was wrong. She’d killed two men today. They would follow her into her dreams and beyond.

Ethan spoke just before they reached Zareb’s place. “Those three vampires are the friends who were staying with me.” He allowed the silence to build. “I’m thankful that we reached them before Garrity’s new binder did.”

“If the binder had already put the headstones by them, would destroying the headstones have broken the binding?” Nightmares or not, she needed sleep so that she could think clearly. Right now everything was just a tangled web of confusion.

“You didn’t get a good look at me when I was in that coffin. If you had, you would’ve noticed the same scene that was on my headstone burned into my chest.”

“That’s just sick.” She frowned. “Wait, I saw you right after you escaped from the coffin, and all you had were cuts from the glass.”

He nodded. “No one burned that into me. It just appeared at the same time the binder put the headstone next to my coffin. At the moment he died, the image disappeared from my chest. I think that even if someone had destroyed the headstone, as long as the binder was still alive, the image would have stayed on my body.” He seemed to think for a moment. “And the binding would have held.”

Cassie didn’t have time to comment on that because they’d reached Zareb’s warehouse. She climbed from the car and headed for the door. Ethan put his hand on her arm to stop her.

“I wanted to tell you how amazing you were back there. I’d have gone to my final death tonight if you hadn’t thrown that knife.”

She couldn’t see his face, but she sensed his smile.

“Zareb has a talent for reading what’s inside a person, knowing how to get the most from them. I know why he let you come with us. I think he knew that you were capable of performing ‘extraordinary feats.’”

Cassie didn’t want to be pleased. Killing a person shouldn’t make anyone feel proud. But it wasn’t the killing that brought her a sense of wonder. It was the fact that subconsciously she’d known that she couldn’t allow this man to die.

“Thank you.” She took a deep breath and asked the question that had nagged at her all night. “You sound normal. Why aren’t you all primitive rage and savagery with the Second One in control?”

She could feel his gaze—hot, disturbing.

“Exactly because the Second One is a primitive force. It only has one focus—violence. When it doesn’t have a target, it subsides.” He paused. “But it’s still there, waiting for the moment it senses anger or any emotion it can hook its claws into. I have to be careful until it fades. Oh, and my face will still kill.”

“How long until it’s gone?”

He shrugged. “Not for a while now. I killed again tonight.”

Cassie swallowed hard. She should leave now, walk into the building, because his closeness was making her forget things she needed to remember—he was a vampire, he had killed ten men tonight, he was a vampire.

But her feet didn’t move. Everything that had happened today, every moment of emotional turmoil was breaking like waves against the dam she’d erected in her mind. And the dam had sprung leaks. Lots of them.

Even as she took the step toward him that she knew would change everything, the dam collapsed and her emotions swept her away.

If she thought he’d be the one to wield some common sense, she was wrong. With a guttural groan, he pulled her to him.

“You shouldn’t do this to me when the Second One is around. It doesn’t understand limits.”

Cassie closed her eyes as she reached up to trace his jaw with shaking fingers. “Bring it on. It seems I’m into expanding my limits today. I’m willing to live dangerously for a little while longer.”

And with a muffled curse, he covered her mouth with his.

There were moments when people did things they never thought they’d do. This was one of them. She would kiss a vampire.

It was her in-between time—after Felicity’s death, after she’d killed two men, but before the dreaded instant when she’d have to finally accept that everything she’d experienced today was real. And definitely before she lay alone in her bed and slept, only to live it all again in her dreams.

This was her moment to forget—no before, no after, just now. And what a now it was. Ethan wouldn’t kiss her gently. Not with the Second One lurking so close to the surface. But that was okay, because she didn’t want kind and understanding right now. She wanted a kiss that would obliterate her memories of the day.

He pulled her to him, and she savored the anticipation. He was sexy, masculine, and warm. Who knew a vampire could feel warm? His lips moved over hers—no attempt at seduction, just all hard demand. And she opened to him.

Let the sensations begin. Or not. Because something strange was happening. She’d prepared herself to absorb the scent, the feel, the taste of him. That’s what you did when you kissed someone. But instead, she fell straight through the hole that must’ve been in the bottom of her box of sensations and hurtled into . . .

What the . . . ? Darkness, heat, and emotions so strong that they shook her. No up, no down, just feelings—stomach-churning desire and a need that clawed her bloody inside. She was moving too fast, gasping for breath as everything gathering inside her expanded, threatening to fill her universe.

Every once in a while she’d catch a glimpse of reality in a flash of light seen out of the corner of her mind’s eye—his tongue stroking and tasting, his lips sensual and tempting. But then it would be gone.

Emotions. So many of them. All struggling to be acknowledged, to be felt. Finally she couldn’t stand it anymore. It was too much, too unexpected, too frightening. What the hell was happening? She opened her eyes.

For one terrifying second she stared into the reflection of herself in his glasses—wide-eyed, confused, scared. And then he turned his head away.

“Don’t look at me when the Second One is near. Not even if I’m wearing the glasses.” His voice was a raspy warning. “Unless you have a death wish.” He released her and stepped back.

Cassie swayed, not sure if she was about to humiliate herself by falling flat on her face. Taking a deep breath, she locked her knees and stood tall. It had just been a kiss. Right. Way to lie to yourself.

“I don’t understand.” Any of it. Not what he was or why one kiss felt as though he’d changed her on a molecular level.

“I explained before. You stare at my face and the Second One notices. It wants me to chuck the glasses so that it can reach you through my eyes. It wants to kill you.” He shrugged. “If it catches me at a weak moment, I’ll take them off.”

He’d misunderstood her, but that was okay. Her reaction to his kiss was too raw, and examining it would hurt.

“We need to go.” He sounded angry.

What did he have to be mad about? She was the one who had just discovered a whole new weird world inside her. Since Cassie didn’t trust herself to speak rationally, she simply nodded and followed him.

Zareb waited for them in his living room along with the three rescued vampires. He sat in a leather recliner, and the cat lay in his lap purring as Zareb idly stroked it. He speared Ethan with a hard stare.

“It took you long enough to get in here.” Zareb’s expression said he knew exactly why they’d made him wait. “Your friends will be staying here along with you and Cassie until we find our favorite undertaker and fit him for one of his own coffins. The bastards won’t get through my defenses.”

Left unsaid was that Ethan had been woefully negligent in not erecting a twenty-foot impenetrable wall around his house. Cassie noticed that Ethan didn’t argue about their staying with Zareb, so this place must be safe. And Cassie was all about staying safe right now.

“How much do we know?” Even as he spoke, Ethan stepped into a shadowed corner.

Cassie had to sit down before she fell down. The memory of what forever after would be known as The Kiss, along with everything else that had happened today, was finally taking its toll on her.

The three rescued vampires sat on the couch. They still looked groggy. After removing the knife sheath and dropping it to the floor beside her, she collapsed onto the only chair left. Cassie still clutched her purse with the gun inside. She never wanted to be without a weapon again.

“We still know almost nothing. Perhaps when their heads clear we’ll learn more.” Zareb glanced at the vampires on the couch as though he could force them into coherency by his will alone.

After being around him for a while, Cassie was almost willing to believe he could. “How were they captured?”

“They’ve been mumbling something about humans that moved too fast and creatures like nothing they’d ever seen before.” Zareb glanced at Ethan and Cassie. “Anything to add?”

Cassie nodded. “The humans that ran at us in the hallway moved like vampires.”

“The creatures they brought with them to capture me looked like someone had taken parts from different animals and glued them together.” Ethan spoke from the shadows.

One of the vampires on the couch continued in a monotone. “Big hairy bodies. Claws like some prehistoric raptor. Fangs of a freaking saber-toothed tiger and . . .” He paused before going on. “And the eyes of a vampire.”

Zareb frowned. “Disturbing.”

Another vampire joined in. “The creatures didn’t maul us much, just helped to subdue us so the human bastards could shoot us up with something that knocked us out.” He peered at Ethan and then at Cassie. He offered her a lopsided grin and a wink. “You look too good for Ethan. I’m Stark. When you dump his ass, look me up.”

Cassie swallowed her laughter. Now wasn’t the time.

The last vampire on the couch finally spoke up. “I heard one of the humans promise to reward the creatures when they visited the neighbors.”

Cassie remembered the torn bodies and shuddered.

“How did they get to Ethan’s house? I doubt they could parade their furry friends through the streets without anyone noticing.” Zareb stopped stroking the cat. It hissed its displeasure but didn’t leave his lap.

“A truck? They could’ve parked behind the house and gotten them inside without anyone noticing once it got dark.” Ethan sounded as though he was ready for the conversation to be over.

“Why are they capturing vampires and putting them in glass coffins? And what did my friend Felicity know that got her killed?” Cassie’s lids kept sliding shut.

They all thought about her questions in silence for a few minutes. None of them offered answers.

Zareb finally stood. He set the cat gently on the floor before facing his guests. “I have one thing to add. I was in the minds of the humans down in the basement before Ethan short-circuited their brains. One of them was thinking about someone called the Collector. I got the impression that this Collector was the boss, and that he wasn’t Garrity.” He motioned for the three vampires on the couch to follow him. “I’ll show you your rooms.”

She thought about mentioning that no one had introduced her to the other two vampires, but she was too tired to care. “Where will Ethan and I sleep?” Cassie didn’t want to think about the nightmares waiting for her tonight, but she couldn’t stay awake much longer.

Zareb paused. “I only have one guestroom left. It’s the one Ethan used when I first turned him. You can share it with him.” His smile said he knew his choice would upset her, but he didn’t give a damn.

Cassie narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together to keep from shouting at Zareb. He’d enjoy it too much. Instead she turned to Ethan. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Zareb didn’t even turn. He threw back over his shoulder, “Can’t. It’s a sofa bed and I’m sleeping on it. I wouldn’t usually give up my own bed to guests, but I want to be the one closest to the door if trouble comes calling. My three friends here are still a little loopy and Ethan’s Second One would overreact. You? You’re only a human. Sorry.”

He wasn’t sorry. She watched the cat leap onto the couch. It lay down and watched her from half-closed eyes. Cassie recognized the self-satisfied feline smirk it wore. The damn cat would get to sleep on the couch while she’d be sleeping . . . She glanced at the floor. Maybe with a few blankets and a comfy pillow it wouldn’t be—

“No.” Ethan emerged from the shadows, his hoodie and glasses still in place. “We can share my bed. It’s not far from dawn, so you don’t have to worry about me staying awake looking for my chance to pounce on you.” He strode past her, headed for the hallway.

And because she was so exhausted that her brain felt scrambled, she followed him.

He opened the door at the end of the hallway and stepped aside for her to enter. She had a vague impression of a large space, a massive four-poster bed, and furniture scattered around the room that looked as though it belonged in some ancient castle. No windows.

“This was originally Zareb’s room. He wanted to re-create the special feel of that last great castle he conquered.” Ethan laughed softly. “The one with the throne and the willing widow. My maker can be a nostalgic bastard.”

Cassie stared at him stupidly. “Huh?”

“But then Zareb decided he had to move into the modern era. His present room is metal and glass along with a big-screen TV that takes up a whole wall.”

She didn’t give a damn about Zareb. “Shower.”

Cassie didn’t really need a shower. Her last adventure at Eternal Rest had been a bloodless one. Ethan’s kills were terrifyingly tidy and her knife had produced no splatter. She could skip the shower. But even though there was no physical evidence of death, she still needed to wash the feel of it from her body. Yes, it was all in her mind, but right now her mind was running the show.

While she stood in the middle of his room and tried to keep her eyes open, he disappeared, only to appear a few seconds later with a nightgown and robe. Where had he . . . ? Then she remembered. The hall closet with all the extra clothes. When she turned to go back out the door to reach the hall bathroom, he stopped her.

“The room has its own bathroom.” He pointed to a door in the far wall.

A few minutes later, Cassie stepped into Zareb’s glorious shower. It could hold a small army. She made the spray hot enough to peel the skin from her body and then scrubbed and scrubbed. When she finished, she turned off the water and sank onto the stone ledge for a short rest. Yes, she was putting off the moment when she’d have to go back into the bedroom and face Ethan. She closed her eyes. It would only be for . . .

When she opened her eyes again, she was lying in bed staring at the clock on the nightstand next to her. Almost noon. She turned her head. Their bed.

Ethan lay on his back next to her. Asleep.

How . . . ? The last thing she remembered was sitting on the ledge in the shower. Ohmigod, she’d conked out. He must have gotten her out of the shower, dried her, and pulled on her nightgown. Then he would have had to carry her to the bed. How had she slept through all of that? The wet and naked part made her feel a little warm. Memories of the The Kiss tugged at her.

He wore a sleep mask, but no hoodie. She dared to look. After all, if he slept, then the Second One probably did too.

Ethan’s face left her breathless. Even without being able to see his eyes, she felt the inexorable pull that the Second One’s victims must feel. But at least she was able—with superhuman strength—to drag her gaze from that full lower lip, the lines and planes of a face that would bring humans to their knees in the streets if he chose to mingle.

She shifted her gaze lower. He’d pushed the covers down to his waist, exposing sculpted arms and a muscular torso that made her swallow hard. Sure, she’d seen it all before in Garrity’s basement, but this was the first time she’d had time to appreciate it. Cassie bit her lip, focusing on the pain to stop herself from reaching out to touch, to smooth, to rip the damn covers off to see if he slept naked.

Taking a deep calming breath, she wondered how she’d survive another night sharing his bed. Because only total exhaustion had kept her from lying awake thinking about him next to her.

But then she remembered Felicity. She hadn’t dreamed about her friend last night. She must have been too tired to dream. But the nightmares would come. And she didn’t want to be sleeping in this bed when she woke screaming.

She climbed from the bed. No need to tiptoe around. Ethan was deep in his day sleep. And if legends were to be believed, the place could collapse around him and he wouldn’t wake. Throwing on her robe, she went in search of coffee.

Cassie was lost in thought about Felicity as she walked into Zareb’s kitchen. What would her friend’s family think when they found out that she’d just disappeared? Felicity had never talked much about her family, and Cassie had never met them.

Her frustration grew. She couldn’t contact them, couldn’t tell them the truth. And what about her own family? When she finally called them, she’d have to pretend that everything was fine. She hated lying.

All thoughts came to a sudden halt, though, when Cassie looked up and saw two massive men standing by the sink. She couldn’t control a startled yelp.

They didn’t smile. Jeez, they both had to be at least six feet five with muscular everything. They must be brothers—same size, same hard features, same orangey hair and strange amber eyes.

She froze. Who were they? If they were the enemy, then she was screwed because a houseful of sleeping vampires wouldn’t be much protection.

Her weapon. She’d left her gun in her purse. The purse was still in the bedroom. Memo to self: gun goes everywhere, even to the bathroom.

No one spoke, so she finally broke the silence. “And you are?”

The one on the right answered. “I’m Ben and this is my brother Todd. Zareb hired us to guard the place during the day. You’re the human.” He still didn’t smile.

You’re the human. That must mean that he wasn’t. “What are you?”

The other man, Todd, finally smiled. “We’re the ones strong enough to keep you safe, little girl. Maybe you’d better hope you never have to find out what we are.”

Well, that solved that. Little girl? Jerk. At least they’d cooked breakfast. “Do you mind if I steal something to eat and some coffee?”

Todd shrugged and picked up the conversation with his brother that she must have interrupted. Sports.

She tuned them out. No way did she want to spend any quality time around these two. Cassie piled bacon, scrambled eggs, and a piece of toast on a plate, then poured a cup of coffee. She carried all of her food back to the bedroom. A sleeping Ethan made a better companion than they did.

She set her food and coffee on a small table tucked into the corner of the room and sat down to eat. Then she noticed that the cat had slunk in behind her. She’d leaped onto the bed and promptly curled up at the foot of it.

Cassie smiled. “We agree on something, cat.”

She stopped smiling as she slid her gaze the length of as much of Ethan’s body as she could see. Then she looked at that breathtaking face. Not too long at one time. Just a glance here and a glance there.

Finally she accepted the truth. She couldn’t sleep next to Ethan for another night. The attraction was too strong, her sensual thoughts too potent, and her willpower almost nonexistent. If she was lucky, they’d locate Garrity tonight and she could find somewhere else to stay.

Cassie forced herself to turn her back on Ethan and stare at the wall. She thought about the horrors of yesterday, grounded herself in what was important, and tried to ignore the vampire in her bed.

No, she definitely wasn’t spending another night sleeping next to him.

The sixth night.

For five nights she’d lain alone in their bed with her eyes closed so he wouldn’t know that she was still awake when he finally returned. Forget sleep. She couldn’t relax until she was sure Ethan had gotten home safely before dawn.

For five mornings she’d lain awake gazing at his face—and when the sheet gods smiled on her, his body—before falling into an uneasy and nightmare-ridden sleep herself.

At least she could stare her fill, because the Second One had faded almost completely. It was the almost that bothered her. She could see the tiny changes the Second One had left behind, the ones that were part of him now—his slightly fuller lower lip, eyes that seemed a little larger, a little more beautiful than before. Cassie tried not to dwell on the consequences if he continued to kill.

For five days she’d gotten up and dressed right before dusk and then waited for him to awaken.

That had been the best time of the day because he’d had time to talk with her. A lot. He’d explained how they were making a systematic search of the city. Until Garrity was eliminated, she had to stay hidden. She’d reminded him that she was the one who had saved his vampire butt at Eternal Rest. He was grateful, but no, she couldn’t hunt with them. Arguments ensued. She’d enjoyed them a little too much.

And they’d spoken about other stuff. About his human life as a horse trainer and how he sometimes still went for night rides. About her life as a consultant, a life that seemed to grow more distant and unreal as the week progressed.

Cassie had also unburdened herself about emotions she normally would’ve felt hesitant to share—her memories of Felicity, feelings about her grandfather she’d bottled up inside for a very long time, and her attacks of conscience over the men she’d killed.

But most important of all were the things they didn’t talk about. How she came alive when he was near. How the need to touch him became a driving obsession as the days passed. How she knew if he disappeared from her life tonight she’d mourn his loss for a long time. And how sometimes she caught him staring at her with an intensity that made her catch her breath, made her weak with need.

Tonight was the sixth night. Tonight would be different.

She heard the door open. Cassie didn’t hear him enter. She never did. He moved so silently that she didn’t know he was in the shower until she heard the water running.

She pushed aside her usual fantasy, the one where she watched the warm water sluice over his powerful back, thighs, and perfect tight butt. The one where she moved up behind him and molded her bare body to all that heat and smooth wet flesh.

Tonight would be different. She opened her eyes.

After what seemed an eternity, Cassie saw the bathroom door open. She watched him move quietly across the room, his face in shadow. When he reached the bed, she saw that he wore his sunglasses.

He’d killed. She almost closed her eyes. Almost. But she wouldn’t allow the Second One to destroy her hopes tonight.

She felt him slide into bed. He was naked.

Ethan broke the silence. “You’re awake.”

She smiled. “I’ve been awake every night.”

“I know.”

Okay, that shocked her. “How?”

“Your heartbeat. It was too fast for normal sleep.” He rolled onto his side facing her. “I stayed awake listening to it every night until the day sleep took me.”

She glanced at his face from the corner of her eye and then away. “I never knew.” Now that the moment was here, Cassie fumbled for words. “I watched you sleep. In the morning.” Fine. Now he’d think she was some kind of creepy voyeur.

“And what did you think about while you watched me, Cassie?”

His voice was deep dark chocolate coating all of the desires she’d kept carefully hidden for the past five nights. Now was the time for truth.

“I thought about making love with you.” She held her breath. Only desperation would drive her to say those words. What if he didn’t feel the same way? After all, he’d had five nights to make his move if he was interested. What if—

His soft laughter wrapped her in warmth. “Good. I wouldn’t have made a seventh night.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” Do something? She turned on her side to face him, careful not to focus on his face for too long.

He reached out to touch her then, just a slide of his fingers along her jaw. But that simple touch amplified her needs, sent them crawling along her nerve endings, awakened her in ways she’d never imagined. Something exciting and new opened its eyes for the first time and blinked in the bright light of her anticipation.

“You kept your eyes closed. No matter what you thought you wanted, Cassie, you weren’t ready to see me yet.” He leaned closer. “The real me. Acceptance comes from in here.” He tapped one finger over her heart.

That tap felt like the boom of a kettledrum and her heart leaped in response. “Are we finished with the deep stuff yet?” Her breaths were coming faster. When had she grown into an impatient bitch? About six nights ago.

His smile was a flash of white in the darkness. Without answering, he pushed himself to his knees and leaned over her. “Sit up.”

Now that she’d exhausted her supply of bravado for the night, she simply obeyed. Raising her arms, she allowed him to slip her nightgown over her head while she focused on his throat and the pulse that beat there.

Cassie looked up to find him staring at her, and she swore she could see his eyes gleaming behind the dark lenses.

“You’re beautiful. I thought that from the first moment I saw you.” He lowered his head to kiss a path starting at the sensitive skin beneath her ear and continuing down her neck.

Cassie closed her eyes and murmured her pleasure.

She felt him pause at the hollow of her throat, his lips all heat and pressure. Cassie swallowed hard and knew he’d feel it. “From the first moment? I don’t think so. Your eyes were black and you were flashing fangs.”

He didn’t answer for a moment as he slid his tongue along her collarbone, then kissed the swell of her breast. “I compartmentalize my emotions well. My rage was completely separate from my appreciation of you.”

She was finding it hard to concentrate. To ground herself, she smoothed her fingers over his broad shoulders and along his biceps. His muscles tensed beneath her touch.

This time the sensations came. His scent—clean, male, and filled with memories of the night. His skin, smooth and warm. His taste? She’d find out.

But as she leaned in to kiss him, he put his hands on her shoulders and took her down to the bed with him. Then he rolled her onto her back and straddled her hips. “There. That’s better.”

Cassie forgot not to look. She opened her eyes and glared up at him. “Excuse me? Where’s the equal access? You can reach everything. I can only reach . . . some things.” She took a deep breath and dropped her gaze.

“Ah, but they’re the important things.”

He tangled his fingers in her hair and leaned down to cover her mouth with his. Cassie explored the taste of him fully as the long drugging kiss threatened to spiral out of control. She closed her eyes again as she traced each fang with the tip of her tongue. So different from her, but so right for him.

He finally broke the kiss in favor of focusing his attention on her breasts. And as he circled her nipple with the tip of his tongue and then covered it with his lips, she encouraged him with breathy moans.

The heat of his mouth, the way he flicked each nipple with his tongue before nipping gently, and the pleasure/pain as he drew on it made her gasp.

Pleasure drove her. Cassie arched her back as he licked a path over her stomach. Then she spread her legs when he moved lower to trail the tip of his tongue up her inner thigh.

But when he slid his hands under her bottom, lifted her to meet his mouth, and then used that same tongue tip to tease the sensitive nub that was control central for what seemed to be every nerve ending in her body, she took a dive into the same place she’d visited the first time they’d kissed.

“Please, please, please.” Her breaths came in tortured gasps as she pleaded with him. Please hold me so close that you absorb every cell in my body. Please fill me so the emotions won’t hurt so much. Please let me touch you. Cassie didn’t think she meant his body with that last “please.” But then she wasn’t doing much thinking at all right now.

Raw emotions and sensations that threatened to wash her away shook her until she gripped the bottom sheet as an anchor. She whimpered as he slipped his tongue in and out, in and out.

Cassie clenched her muscles around the indescribable pleasure—trying to slow it down, hang on to it. Finally her emotions overflowed the dam she hadn’t done much to shore up.

Need, want so intense that it hurt, and an unnamed emotion that tugged and tugged at her heart until she expected it to explode from her chest battered her. With a growl she didn’t even recognize as coming from her, she raised herself enough to tangle her fingers in his hair and yank.

He didn’t fight her. She sensed that his eyes would be black behind his glasses, and she would’ve sworn his hands shook as he grasped her arms and flopped onto his back, dragging her on top of him.

Cassie wasn’t sure who the vampire was here, because she wanted to eat him alive, drain him of every drop of whatever magic he was feeding her. She whimpered as she rose to straddle him the same way he had her. Strands of thoughts mixed with the sensations and emotions, driving her into a feverish frenzy to . . .

She knew if she didn’t put her mouth, her hands, on his body, there’d be nothing but an empty husk of a woman left when this was over. The heat of her hunger would burn her to gray ash and then the ash would blow away on the wind of her frustrated need.

Cassie memorized every line, every curve of him as she slid her fingers over his smooth sleek body. Her fingers trembled as she spent quality time running one fingernail lightly over the hard length of his erection. Before she knew it, her mouth had replaced her hands.

She’d never get enough of him. She glided her tongue over his cock—all velvety soft skin and hard male need—and slipped her lips over the head. As she mimicked the rhythm of love, she soaked up his deep groans.

It wasn’t enough, it would never be enough. Her feelings fought the tangle of physical sensations, trying to tell her something, something important.

But all coherent thought fled on the surge of what had to be her own Second One, and it was shouting, “Now, now, now.”

It must’ve been loud enough for Ethan to hear because he put his hands on her hips and effortlessly lifted her onto his erection.

Slow. She wanted to make it last. Forever. But her body didn’t agree. Cassie felt the head of his cock pressing, pressing and . . . She. Couldn’t. Stand. It.

She lowered herself slowly, with exquisite care, with deep breaths each time she felt him spread her apart and push in a little farther. Slowly, focusing on the moment, the sensation, the feeling.

Then he moved. With a hard thrust, he drove into her and she lost it.

She met his thrust with her own, joining them completely, and nothing she’d ever experienced felt like the sensation of him completely filling her—pressing, pressing.

She cried out as the deep dark emotional place she’d found before swallowed her. Want so powerful, so primal that she felt tears streaming down her face. She wanted, no needed his body, his soul, his everything. This couldn’t be love, because love wasn’t this savage. And right now she could’ve stepped right out of the primordial ooze.

Then she stopped thinking.

The friction. The rise and then the plunge to meet his thrusts. The hammering of her heart. The harsh rasps of her breath. The sensation of his body hard between her thighs. The friction, friction, and oh my God!

Her orgasm caught her and shook her with so much power that she couldn’t even scream. She hung there while spasm after spasm shattered her past and rebuilt her future expectations. Never would she feel this way again.

And as the spasms slowly grew weaker, she mourned their loss. She was thinking again. Had he gotten his release? He hadn’t . . . “You didn’t bite me.” She weakly climbed off him and lay on her back beside him.

He picked up her hand and placed it over his heart.

Surprised, she could feel his heartbeat. “It isn’t racing.”

“Believe me, for a vampire, that’s a racing heart. Any more excitement and I would’ve been the first vampire to die of a heart attack.”

She laughed, but then grew silent. Something was wrong. Cassie didn’t know how she knew, but she felt the tension in him. Was it her? “Is everything okay?” Did she sound pitiful or what? Tell me I didn’t take the most incredible trip of my life alone.

“What we just had . . .” He didn’t turn his head to look at her.

Lost for words? Not something she expected from Ethan.

“It changed everything, Cassie.”

What the hell did he mean by that?

“But something’s wrong. I feel it.” Strange how she was so sure she could sense the feelings of a man she’d known for such a short time. It was what it was, though.

Ethan finally looked at her, but his glasses hid his emotions.

“You felt what happened between us.” He held up his hand to stop her response. “Just know that I will keep you safe.” His lips softened into a smile. “Because I can’t imagine ever finding someone like you again in a thousand lifetimes.”

Cassie’s surge of joy came first. It was all emotion. No thoughts involved. She would have been happy to stay in that state forever.

But her mind couldn’t keep from messing with her happiness. The doubts began. He hadn’t mentioned love. Vampire or not, he was male. Was this only about mind-blowing sex? And he’d mentioned a thousand lifetimes. She’d be able to share only one with him. He’d have to trudge through the other nine hundred ninety-nine alone.

Since she didn’t particularly want to start a dialogue on any of those topics, she chose to discuss something impersonal, nonthreatening. “Is there a reason you think you might not be able to keep me safe?”

Only when she saw the flash of disappointment in his expression did she realize her mistake. He’d opened to her, told her his feelings, and she’d ignored him. Regret weighed her down, but it was too late to go back. She’d chosen to retreat from emotions that were too scary, that opened her up to hurt, and that had happened way too fast.

His expression smoothed out and he turned his head away. “We lost Darren tonight.”

Shock punched her hard enough to drag a gasp from her. “How?” She hadn’t really known Darren, and he’d been a jerk the one time they’d met, but she hadn’t wanted him dead.

Ethan laid his arm across his eyes as though the dim glow from the nightlight was still too much. “We’ve been splitting into small groups searching for Garrity and his men. Tonight it was just Darren, Zareb, and me. We found a gang of Garrity’s enhanced humans—or whatever they are—and their beasts. Lots of them. They were trying to capture a lone vampire.”

Cassie realized how totally selfish she was. All she felt was terror at knowing the danger he’d faced, was facing every night. She didn’t have any fear left over for Zareb or the others.

“There were too many of them. We knew if we tried to fight them, there was a good chance they’d get one of us. Vampire numbers are down in the city, so we couldn’t afford to lose anyone. We decided to follow them instead and see if they led us to Garrity.”

He paused and she sensed he was back in the darkness watching the enemy, wanting to destroy them, but knowing he couldn’t do a damn thing.

“But Darren had always been a killing machine. He was too close to the edge. His Second One took control. It didn’t have a lot of survival instincts, just a lust for slaughter. He attacked Garrity’s men before we could stop him.”

She wanted to say something comforting, but her mind was blank to everything except the horror.

“He caught a lot of them by surprise, and they looked at him. The ones that did died. The rest were smarter and didn’t stare directly at his face. Once Darren betrayed our presence, we had to fight too.”

He turned his head enough for her to see the bitter twist of his lips.

“Zareb went into kickass sorcerer mode, I was picking the humans off without getting my hands dirty, and Darren was berserk. We made a great team.” He paused and allowed the silence to gather. “We’d killed most of the humans and a lot of the beasts, but we were tiring. We decided to leave.”

He took his arm from his eyes. “We turned to run but Darren stayed. I saw one of the beasts rip his head from his body.” Rage filled his voice. “I stayed long enough to destroy the beast, and then I followed Zareb.”

Ohmigod, Ethan had almost died tonight. The realization froze her.

Ethan snorted. “The vampire we saved escaped while we fought Garrity’s men. Gratitude isn’t a vampire characteristic.”

“I’m sorry about Darren.” She had no other words.

“This is why I worry. Garrity could take Zareb or me some night and then he’d come for you. I have to find a way to keep you safe.” He was silent for a moment. “Your family doesn’t live here?”

“No.” She knew what he was about to suggest. “Forget it. My family might live in a different state, but I still wouldn’t take the chance of leading those monsters to their doorstep.”

He simply nodded before climbing from the bed. She couldn’t help appreciating the play of muscles across his back and the motion of his tight butt cheeks as he walked across the room and reached into the closet. He came back to bed with his sleep mask and hoodie.

He took off his glasses, and she quickly looked away.

“I like to see the woman I’m making love with.”

She smiled absently while he slipped on the sleep mask and pulled the hoodie over his head.

“Would someone who was with you a lot ever become immune to the Second One?” Dumb question. She would only be with him until Garrity was dead. That should make her happy, right? It didn’t.

He remained silent so long that she thought he wouldn’t answer. “Eventually you’d be able to look at my face without being affected as long as my eyes were covered. There’s no immunity to the face and eyes together.”

She felt his stare.

“You’ll wake before I do. Dress and get out of the bedroom before me.”

She could only nod. There was nothing left that either of them was willing to talk about. Cassie glanced at him. He’d tugged the sheet completely over his head. Evidently breathing wasn’t an issue.

They both lay still until the clock told her that dawn had arrived. She didn’t need to see Ethan to know that the day sleep had taken him.

Closing her eyes, she forced everything from her mind. Allowing her thoughts to run in circles would drive her crazy. She could only help Ethan if she stayed sane. And somewhere during her attempt to think of nothing, she slept.

Cassie quickly shifted her gaze while she tried to control her shaking. “His eyes . . .” She bit her lip to keep from screaming when the animal edged a little closer, as though he knew she was talking about him.

The man sneered as he glanced at her in the rearview mirror. “Recognize them, do you? Go ahead, stare at him. You won’t die. He has the Second One’s eyes, so he can draw you in, but he doesn’t have the pretty face to go with them. That means he can’t kill you that way. Doesn’t matter, though, because he has lots of other ways to end your life.”

Questions whirled in her mind until she felt dizzy. What were the beasts? Where was this guy taking her? What would happen when they got there?

Then she thought of Ethan. Would he search for her? She had to believe he would. Cassie prayed that Garrity wasn’t going to use her as bait. Not that she’d have to live with any guilt if she was the instrument of Ethan’s death, because she had no doubt Garrity intended to kill her once her usefulness ended.

And just when she didn’t think she could stand one more minute of feeling Henry’s stare on her, his hunger, the van pulled up behind what looked like a large abandoned building. She didn’t see any lights inside.

The man got out and came around to open the van’s back doors. Henry jumped out and waited as his handler snapped his leash onto his collar. Then the man climbed in to release Cassie from the van. He didn’t take off the cuffs.

He gave her a little shove toward a door hidden in the shadows. “We’ve kept Mr. Garrity waiting long enough.”

Inside, the darkness was complete. Henry’s hungry whining urged her to go faster. Panic made her clumsy, and she tripped on what felt like a raised board. Unable to break her fall, Cassie fell to her knees hard and for a moment the pain took the place of terror. Something sharp had torn her pants and cut into her knee. But then the man was there yanking her to her feet and pushing her forward.

While she stumbled along, Cassie sensed others in the darkness. They didn’t speak, didn’t move. Guards?

Finally, she reached another door. He pulled it open and light flooded out. Cassie saw a stairway leading down. Anxious to stay a few steps ahead of Henry, she didn’t hesitate.

Once the man joined her at the bottom, he led her to the end of a hallway and then knocked on the door there. With an electronic hum, the door slid open.

He pushed her inside. “This is as far as I go.” The door slid closed, leaving her alone with . . .

The smell of disinfectant made her wrinkle her nose. She glanced around the large room. It looked terrifyingly familiar. Lab equipment, sinks, and containers with God knew what in them. Gurneys, some of which had empty glass coffins on them. A man and woman stood by one of the gurneys watching her with unblinking intensity. Human? She thought so. At least the woman was. The man had that complete stillness she associated with vampires.

Cassie’s gaze finally settled on the far corner of the room. A desk with a man sitting behind it.

“Garrity, I presume.” Cassie hoped she sounded at least semi in control. She clenched her cuffed hands into fists so they wouldn’t shake.

“Cassie, I’ve looked forward to this moment.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Come. Sit.” He pointed to one of the two chairs facing his desk.

Just to make sure, she reached back awkwardly with her cuffed hands to try the door handle. Locked. Taking a deep calming breath, she walked to the chair he’d indicated and sat. Then she took stock of Roland Garrity.

Cassie had pictured someone who would look the part of a human monster. He disappointed her. Standing, he’d be of average height and build. Thinning, light brown hair. Faded blue eyes. A weak chin. She would pass him on the street and never notice him.

Right now, she didn’t have control of her physical situation, but her mouth was still her own. “Why did you bring me here? If you try to use me as bait, Ethan won’t be stupid enough to walk into a trap.”

Garrity raised one brow. “Bait? I’m afraid you overestimate your importance to the vampires. They won’t bother searching for you.” He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his desk. He steepled his hands and studied her. “No, I only went to the trouble of sending Caleb to take you for two reasons—vengeance and to make sure Felicity’s family doesn’t discover that I was involved in her disappearance. Families can be tenacious and meddlesome.”

Vengeance. Cassie repressed a shudder. She didn’t trust herself to speak, so she simply stared at him.

He went on as though he hadn’t expected her to comment. “You are directly responsible for the loss of Eternal Rest. Now I’ll have to deal with insurance and a police investigation besides having to find a new place of business. I believe you owe me for all the trouble you’ve caused.”

“What’re you going to do?” No matter how horrible, she wanted to know his plans.

“First I’ll explain all this”—he swept his hands wide to encompass the room—“because no one should have their human life terminated without knowing why it happened. And then I’ll change you from a pain in the ass into a useful commodity.”

Human life terminated. There it was. She was going to die. There was a kind of sick relief in knowing the worst. Cassie didn’t say anything, because if she tried to speak she knew her voice would shake. She wouldn’t give him the opportunity to gloat over her terror.

“I and all my employees are part of a larger organization run by a brilliant man. He’s never shared his name with us, but I understand his desire for anonymity. We simply call him the Collector.” He paused.

“And he collects what?” She was proud that her voice sounded clear and steady. He would never know how much effort she’d put into those four words.

“Nonhumans with extraordinary powers and humans with potential.” He leaned back in his seat again, his expression filled with admiration for the Collector. “He’s an amazing scientist, and he’s found a way to transfer power from nonhumans to very rich humans willing to pay for it. The nonhumans are kept alive while their power is slowly leached from them. Our clients have a lifetime supply as long as they don’t get greedy.”

Cassie knew her horror was written all over her face. She couldn’t put together words to describe her disgust. So it was lucky that Garrity wasn’t expecting a comment.

“Those we choose to sell must be physically beautiful as well as powerful. We package our products in attractive clear glass coffins so that our clients can not only enjoy their new power but also have something aesthetically pleasing to admire.” He raised one brow. “Any questions so far?”

Can I throw up on your desk? She forced words past the boulder lodged in her throat. “Fine, so I understand why you collect beautiful vampires. But why humans?” Other questions pushed and shoved to be next in line.

He looked surprised that she’d ask that question. “Every human has latent power. When the human becomes vampire, that power is freed. Of course, we can’t charge as much for humans we’ve just changed because they don’t have a proven gift yet.” He smiled. “You can think of them as sort of grab bags. The buyer has no guarantee, but sometimes he gets a pleasant surprise.”

Cassie felt as though her eyes were glued open. She couldn’t blink, couldn’t breathe, and her heart was pounding so hard that she wondered if every vampire in the city could hear it. No, he couldn’t be going where she thought he was going.

Garrity’s smile was twisted and evil and happy.

“Will your buyer get a pleasant surprise, Cassie?”

Whatever had been holding her in her seat snapped. She was out of it and running for the door even though she knew it was locked. Reason didn’t enter into the blind terror she felt. She kicked at the door and screamed. And when the human who wasn’t a human grabbed her, she bit and kicked and cursed.

Somewhere deep inside where her reasoning self hid, she wasn’t surprised when she felt the prick of a needle. Cassie fought to stay awake, because to close her eyes was to lose her humanity. The man picked her up and placed her on one of the empty gurneys. He took the cuffs off her and then immobilized her with leather restraints. As her vision began to dim, she was aware of Garrity leaning over her.

“This is your binder, Cassie.” He beckoned the woman closer. “She’s a member of a powerful binder family that works exclusively for the Collector. Fortunately, he’s loaned her to me until I replace Tony.” He frowned. “You’ll have to bring a good price to make up for killing him.

“Once we’ve drained you and replaced your blood with nice fresh vampire blood, we’ll tuck you into your shiny new coffin, bind you there, and then bury you in one of the cemeteries I own until someone purchases you.” His smile returned. “Did I mention that the Collector is brilliant? We can hide our merchandise in ordinary graves where no one would think to look.” He started to turn away, but then glanced back. “I do hope you’re not claustrophobic.”

Cassie couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. Her lids drifted shut, and surprisingly, the last thing she thought about was Ethan. Now she’d be able to stay with him for the rest of his nine hundred ninety-nine lifetimes. As blackness descended, she screamed and screamed and screamed inside her head.

No one would look at his face. Ethan didn’t blame them. The Second One was strong tonight.

He’d hunted for Cassie alone last night. And when he’d tracked down a group of six of Garrity’s men, he hadn’t hesitated. He’d killed them all along with their two beasts, one at a time, while he hid in the shadows. The last man he’d kept alive long enough to get the information he wanted.

He put on his sunglasses and pulled his hood forward to hide his face.

Zareb paced his living room restlessly. The other vampires stood motionless around the room’s edges, unwilling to come closer to him or Zareb.

“You returned home almost at dawn this morning. Tell me anything you didn’t have time to tell me before the day sleep took you.” Zareb paused in his pacing.

Ethan almost growled. Cassie had been gone for three days. The hell with talking, he wanted to get moving. They’d finally figured out where Garrity had Cassie, and Ethan wanted to be there now. He’d kill every one of the bastards. And if they’d hurt her—he wouldn’t even consider the possibility that she was dead—he’d kill them slowly. No Second One for them. Too easy. The Second One rumbled its thoughts on that.

But Zareb wouldn’t get his ass moving until he got an answer to his question. “The Collector is a scientist and a fucking entrepreneur according to what the guy said last night. I told you about the coffins and the binders. This Collector rewards those who work for him by feeding them small doses of energy from captive vampires. That’s why his men move so fast.”

“And?” Zareb glanced at his watch.

“The Collector created the beasts. He’s a stem cell research genius. The beasts really are made from a bunch of other animals.” He stopped and closed his eyes. This was the hardest part to tell. “He searches particularly for vampires from our bloodline who’re lost to the Second One. I don’t know how the hell he does it, but he uses their brain cells to create the beasts’ brains. They have our intelligence, hunting ability, and the Second One’s mindless lust for killing. The one difference is that the Collector has programmed their brains so that he or his people can control them.” He turned away. “I’m sure he was pissed off that one of his beasts killed Darren and that Garrity didn’t get a chance to harvest his brain.”

The gathered vampires moved restlessly. Their hate, their need to kill battered at Ethan.

“After we take care of Garrity, this Collector is fucking finished.” Death lived in Zareb’s eyes. “Let’s go.”

Ethan was oblivious to the dark streets, to the others in the car. He reached out with his thoughts, searching, searching. Damn it, why couldn’t he sense her? He finally grew aware that the car had stopped. He climbed out and waited while other cars parked nearby.

Zareb had pulled out all the stops. Twenty of his children surrounded him. The four brothers who guarded his home stood a little apart from them.

One of the brothers spoke. “We left her alone, so we’re here to help get her back.”

Zareb nodded. “We’re a mile from the building where we think Garrity is headquartered. He’s grown careless and arrogant. He doesn’t know how many children I have or how powerful we are when united.” He stared into the darkness. “Run, my children. And then kill.”

And so they ran, shadows gliding silently around buildings and through streets. Ethan was the first to reach the abandoned building. The rest spread out around it, looking for other ways in. He wanted to tear the door off with his bare hands, but Zareb moved in front of him.

“You’re too lost to your anger. We don’t need any noise to announce our visit. Let me.” Zareb touched the door and it simply dissolved.

Ethan stepped inside and then froze. He knelt and touched his finger to the floor. Her blood, her scent. He looked back. “She’s here.”

They flowed silently into the building.

Like the last survivor in a postapocalyptic world, Richart d’Alençon strode down the deserted North Carolinian street. Buildings long since abandoned for the night stared out at him with vacant eyes. Quiet enfolded him, both comforting and disconcerting.

A new enemy had risen among the vampire ranks. A self-proclaimed vampire king, who had ordered his followers to transform their victims instead of just feeding from them. Most nights Richart fought and defeated two or three vamps at a time. A couple of the older immortals had been encountering groups of six, seven, and eight. But tonight . . .

Richart had not encountered a single vampire, and soon dawn would break.

A woman cried out in the distance, snagging his attention.

“H-how did you do that?” she asked shakily.

“He’s a vampire, bitch,” a young man taunted.

Darting between businesses, Richart plunged into the trees beyond, traveling so swiftly most humans wouldn’t see him. Those who did would see but a blur.

“Look into my eyes,” a second man said, artificially deepening his voice and speaking with a laughable B-movie version of a Transylvanian accent. “Look into my eyes and know me for who I am.”

Richart burst from the trees and raced through the oil-stained parking lot in front of a big-ass 24-hour superstore, letting the ridiculous conversation be his guide.

“I am Dracula,” the second vamp continued dramatically.

“Look,” the female captive countered, “just take the money. Here’s my purse. Take it.”

Richart almost laughed. She may not know what the hell was going on, but she wasn’t buying that the kid in front of her was the legendary horror figure Dracula.

“I don’t want your money,” Dracula said petulantly, losing the accent.

“Dude, just bite her,” a third vamp urged. “I’ve got shit to do.”

Richart zipped past two employees taking a smoking break. Busy chatting and texting, they would assume the breeze that ruffled their hair was caused by a gust of wind, not an immortal warrior seeking prey.

Circling around to the back of the sprawling concrete structure, he found three vampires. All appeared to be in their early twenties and huddled in the shadows between two Dumpsters, out of range of the cameras mounted on the corners of the building. Between their lanky forms, Richart glimpsed a small, slender figure shoved up against the wall and held there by a fourth vamp, the one who called himself Dracula.

“Shut up!” Dracula snarled at the others, then went B-movie Transylvanian again. “I am Dracula. I am . . . vampire.” He peeled his lips back and revealed gleaming fangs.

The woman’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit.”

Richart could do nothing to free her until the vampire released her. If he struck now, the vamp could break her neck.

So he simply cleared his throat.

The vampires all looked in his direction.

“Where the hell did you come from?” one spouted and shifted, giving Richart a clearer view of the captive.

The woman turned her head to meet Richart’s gaze.

And the oddest little tingle danced through his chest.

She was pretty, with fiery red hair that fell just beneath her shoulders, pale freckled skin, and wide hazel eyes that met and held his, full of both hope and fear.

Dracula drew his lips farther back from his fangs and hissed like a cat.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Richart leaned against the building. “Yes—yes. I have a very nice pair of those myself.” He smiled, revealing the tips of his own fangs.

Hope fled her features as the woman turned back to Dracula.

“This one’s ours,” Dracula said, “so fuck off. You know the king doesn’t want us to fight.”

These guys must be new. They didn’t even realize he was an immortal, not a vampire.

The woman surreptitiously stuck her hand in her purse, then yanked it out and sprayed Dracula in the eyes and mouth with pepper spray. With his heightened sense of smell and taste, it would’ve felt like she had just held a blowtorch to his face.

Dracula stumbled back, howling and scrubbing at his eyes.

Richart drew two daggers and shot forward, burying one to the hilt in Dracula’s chest and driving him away from the woman.

“Immortal Guardian!” the first vampire blurted.

Quick as lightning, Richart sliced Dracula’s carotid and brachial arteries, then turned to fight the remaining three.

The woman took off running. Two vamps converged on Richart with bowies as long as his forearm. Faster and stronger than the vampires, Richart fended off almost every blow and scored plenty of his own, stabbing and slicing until the vamps began to bleed out faster than the virus that infected them could repair the damage.

As the two sank to their knees, clasping their throats, Richart approached the last vampire.

He had caught the woman a few Dumpsters down, shoved her up against the wall, and sunk his teeth into her neck.

Richart swept over to the vampire’s side. The tip of his dagger pricked the skin above the vamp’s carotid artery.

The vampire froze, eyes darting toward Richart.

“Release her and back away,” Richart advised quietly.

The vampire tightened his arm around her torso and slid one hand up to grasp her chin. Fangs receding, he murmured, “Draw another drop of my blood and I’ll break her neck.”

As Richart watched, the boy backed away with the woman. One step. Two.

Richart remained still, biding his time.

Three more steps. The vampire shoved the woman at Richart with a touch of preternatural strength and took off, his form blurring as he fled into the night.

Richart stumbled backward and wrapped his arms around the woman to keep her from falling.

Clinging to the front of his shirt, she buried her face in his chest. “Is he gone?”

“Yes,” he responded, surprised she was so coherent. When vampires and immortals turned, glands formed above the retractable fangs they grew that released a chemical much like GHB under the pressure of a bite. So she should be slurring her words.

Hell, he was surprised she still stood.

“What about the others?”

“They’re gone,” he assured her. Or they would be soon. A quick glance confirmed that they were shriveling up like mummies as the virus, unable to heal their wounds fast enough to keep them from dying, devoured them from the inside out in a desperate bid to live. By the time it finished, nothing would remain of them save the clothing and jewelry they wore.

Weaving on her feet, the woman straightened and looked up at him. She couldn’t be much more than five feet tall and he was six foot one. “Y-your eyes are glowing.”

Her pupils were dilated, blocking out almost all of the pale green, leaving only a few flakes of brown.

Richart retracted his fangs. “Yes. I know it looks bad, but—”

She shook her head. “I think they’re beautiful.”

Was that the drug talking? Or did she really think so?

“You saved me,” she said, awe and gratitude in her melodic voice. Loosening her death grip on his shirt, she cupped his face in both hands.

His heart skipped.

When was the last time a woman had touched his face so tenderly?

When was the last time a woman had touched him at all? Other than his sister punching him in the shoulder, doing her damnedest to kick his ass when they sparred, or doling out a hug here or there, he honestly couldn’t remember.

“Thank you,” the woman whispered. Rising onto her toes, she drew his head down and brushed her lips against his.

The contact hit him like an electrical shock. His heart began to pound as she tilted her head and increased the pressure, brushing, stroking. She combed her fingers through his short, black hair, sending shivers through him.

He parted his lips, met her tongue with his when she boldly thrust hers forward.

Pure heat.

She leaned into him, clutched him tighter.

His body hardened. His breath shortened. His arms tightened around her.

Her knees went limp. Her lips tore away from his as her head fell back. Her eyes closed. Her mouth hung open, lips pink from kissing him.

Richart stared down at her as his pulse pounded in his ears.

Yeah. She was out.

Damn it. That had been the best kiss he’d had in at least a century.

And damn him for enjoying it. She was drugged, out of her senses. She wouldn’t even remember any of this when she woke up.

Sighing, he examined her neck to make sure she wasn’t bleeding from the vampire’s bite, which would soon heal and fade. He checked her pulse to ensure she hadn’t lost too much blood, then gently folded her over his shoulder.

Since he was finished hunting for the night, he would see if he couldn’t clean up this mess himself instead of calling in the human network that aided Immortal Guardians.

Opening the purse she had dropped, he drew out her keys and wallet. Her driver’s license yielded a name and address. He smiled. Jenna McBride. With her red hair and freckles, it suited her.

Thirty-seven years old.

Really? He would’ve guessed mid-to-late twenties.

Tucking the wallet away, he studied the keys. There weren’t many. Just a generic car key with no alarm to guide him to the right car in the parking lot, two door keys, and a worn Shrinky Dinks keychain that looked as if it had been fashioned by a child.

Was she married?

No. There had been no ring on her finger when she had clasped his face. And the vampires hadn’t stolen it. The only things they had desired were her blood and fear.

It doesn’t matter if she’s single. She’s human. You’re immortal.

No shopping bags littered the ground. The two employees taking a smoking break outside the superstore had worn the same color shirt and pants the woman did, so she must work there.

“Let’s get you home,” he murmured and raced around to the front of the building. So swift the surveillance cameras would only catch hazy movement that would likely be mistaken for a dust devil, Richart sped up and down the rows of vehicles until he came to an ’80s economy car that bore Jenna’s scent on the door handle.

Getting an unconscious woman into the passenger seat of such a small vehicle at preternatural speeds was awkward as hell, but he managed to do it. He slid behind the wheel, his knees practically impaling his chest. A quick seat adjustment and he started the car.

Minutes later, Richart pulled into the parking lot of a nearby apartment complex and brought the car to a halt beneath a second-floor door that bore the number on her license. Exiting, he readjusted the seat in hopes Jenna would think she had driven herself home and just been so tired she couldn’t remember it. He experienced a moment of unease when he opened the apartment door and immediately scented a male. Pausing just inside, he listened carefully.

Down the hall, someone slept. A lover, perhaps?

Richart carried Jenna, cradled peacefully in his arms, down the hallway and paused outside the first door.

Not a lover. Most likely a son. Though the bedroom door was closed, a male’s scent dominated the room. Jenna’s delightful scent, on the other hand, led him past a small bathroom to a bedroom at the end of the hallway.

He placed her on the unmade bed and gently removed her shoes. Drawing the covers up to her shoulders, he stared down at her.

He had done this so many times over the years, seeing vampire victims safely to their homes. But, for once, he found himself oddly reluctant to leave.

Listening to the soothing thump of her heartbeat, he glanced around the room. A full-sized bed. A less-than-stable-looking desk supporting an outdated computer. A closet with not many clothes. And a battered dresser upon which rested a small TV and a handful of photos.

Four of the pictures depicted a boy ranging in age from infancy to high school graduation. A fifth showed a very young Jenna holding a baby while a grinning teenaged boy stood with his arms around them both.

Richart’s gaze returned to Jenna.

And still his feet refused to move.

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Removing it, he glanced down at the text sent by Sheldon, his Second or human guard:

Jenna was beset by nerves all day as she anticipated her date with Richart.

It hadn’t taken her long to tidy the apartment. Once done, she rearranged the kitchen cabinets and drawers, placing the nicest of her mismatched dishes and glasses in the front and on top.

She couldn’t remember a time when money hadn’t been tight. Her parents had kicked her out when she had turned up pregnant at sixteen. Her boyfriend’s parents had declared their child-rearing days over and done little more than give Jenna and Bobby, John’s father, first and last month’s rent on their first apartment. The two had married and worked their asses off, but—unable to afford health insurance—had accrued thousands of dollars in debt thanks to the medical bills pregnancy and giving birth had generated. Debt they had still been struggling to pay off when Bobby had been killed in a car accident three years later.

So nice dishes and pretty glasses had been beyond her budget.

Hell, the only furniture she had owned for years—other than baby furniture—had been throwaway pieces other tenants had left out by the Dumpster and an inflatable mattress.

But eventually, she had paid off the debt and managed to put away a little extra here and there until she had acquired enough to furnish the apartment with something that wouldn’t embarrass John when he invited friends over.

Or her. Richart had said he wouldn’t pursue anything amorous tonight, but she was nevertheless glad she had an actual bed in case something developed between them later.

Butterflies flocked to her stomach. She hadn’t had a date in . . .

Hmm. She drew a blank on that one.

Debbie had set her up on a blind date a couple of years ago that had gone rather well, Jenna thought, until she had mentioned having a son who planned to go to medical school. Her date had apparently mentally jumped ahead to marrying her and having to shell out a couple hundred thousand dollars in educational fees for a son who wasn’t his and had run, not walked, in the opposite direction.

Dating wasn’t easy for single moms.

The phone rang.

Jenna jumped. Shaking her head at herself, she answered. “Hello?”

“Hello.”

Her heart began to pound at the sound of Richart’s deep, silky voice. “Hi.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Much better, thank you.” Well . . . a little better, anyway. Though her stomach remained unsettled, she felt somewhat confident that she would be able to eat whatever meal he prepared without projectile vomiting it on him afterward.

“I’m glad to hear it. I thought I would run some dinner ideas by you and see what you think would be the most gentle on your stomach.”

So thoughtful. “Okay. What did you have in mind?”

Richart began to list entrées he could prepare for her. Clearly the man could cook.

Jenna didn’t know how half of the dishes he mentioned were prepared or if she even had the pots and pans needed to do it, so she went with the safest option. “How about the light salad and fettuccine Alfredo?”

“As you wish,” he responded cheerfully. “I shall see you tonight.”

A biting winter wind ruffled Richart’s hair. Barren limbs of deciduous trees clacked together overhead while the leaves of evergreens fluttered and swished.

What’s going on with you? a female voice with an accent identical to his own asked in his head.

Richart glanced over at his sister and brother, who examined him much like they would a previously undiscovered insect.

Stay out of my head, he warned them. Both were telepathic. Richart lacked that gift and had often bemoaned the fact as a child until he had learned he could teleport and they couldn’t. They could still read his thoughts or send him their own, though.

We know when you block your thoughts and have respected your desire for privacy, Lisette said and shared a look with Étienne. But we don’t have to read your mind to know something is up.

Richart frowned at the dark forest that surrounded them.

A vampire, claiming he desired the Immortal Guardians’ help, had arranged a rendezvous with Marcus, Ami, and Roland (the last of whom the vampires believed was Bastien) in a clearing that had once been the site of Bastien’s lair. Seth had ordered Richart, his siblings, and Roland’s wife, Sarah, to follow and linger downwind in case it was a trap.

Sarah likely had no notion the French immortals were communicating silently and stood off to the side, staring intently into the trees as if she could see her husband waiting on the other side.

In lieu of answering, Richart decided to change the subject. Did anyone else notice the way Marcus looks at his Second?

Étienne smirked. As if he wishes to devour her? No, I didn’t notice at all.

Richart smiled.

Rustling sounds, a mile or two distant, reached their ears. The vampires’ scents—four instead of only the one who had arranged the meeting—followed.

Étienne drew his katanas.

Richart palmed two daggers as Lisette drew a pair of shoto swords.

“I thought this was supposed to be a private meeting,” they heard Marcus drawl.

“Insurance,” a vampire responded arrogantly. “Can’t blame me for being careful, can you? Besides, if he’s who you say he is, then maybe he can help all three of us.”

Richart caught Lisette’s gaze and raised an eyebrow.

It’s a trap, she confirmed with a frown. Three face our brethren while a fourth lingers in the trees, but . . . She shook her head. Their thoughts are all so loud and jumbled, I can’t discern what the trap entails.

Richart looked to Étienne, keeping an ear tuned to the conversation that continued in the clearing.

Étienne wagged his head back and forth. The madness has taken them. Their thoughts are impossible to separate, as if all are shouting at once. There are only four of them, but . . . So many voices. It’s as though they suffer from multiple personality disorder. I can’t discern their plan.

Richart nodded.

“So be it,” the vampire addressing Marcus said with satisfaction.

Boom!

Pain pierced Richart’s ears as an explosion shook the ground beneath his feet. The scent of multiple vampires abruptly tainted the air as gunshots sounded and the clang of metal striking metal disrupted the night.

A shrill whistle followed as Marcus signaled for them to join the fight.

Sarah darted forward so fast she seemed to vanish.

Richart teleported to the clearing. His eyes widened.

So many!

He swiftly thrust a dagger into the heart of one of the dozens of vampires surging toward Marcus, Ami, and Roland.

Those three stood back to back to back, Ami firing her Glocks, Marcus wielding his short swords, and Roland cutting through the vampires with his sais.

As the vamp Richart impaled sank to the ground, Richart teleported again, appearing several yards away, arms extended, daggers held tightly in his palms. His blades slit the throats of two vampires racing toward Marcus and severed their carotid arteries. As they dropped to the ground, Richart teleported again and again and again, taking out vampires every time, spawning utter chaos as the vampires began to divide their attention between fighting Marcus and the others and looking around wildly for him.

Richart smiled darkly. He loved his gift. Loved the fear it inspired in his opponents.

He teleported over to his brother and took out two of the many vampires clamoring to kill him.

Étienne laughed, never ceasing his swings.

Grinning, Richart teleported over to the mob that continued to assault the trio in the center of the clearing. As soon as he appeared, sinking his blade into yet another vamp, a bullet struck him in the shoulder.

Ami gasped, her guns falling silent.

Richart couldn’t fault her for shooting him. He had teleported between her and her target. He waved it off and teleported again as she resumed fire.

The battle waged on.

For every vampire the immortals and Ami killed, two or three seemed to take their place. Richart couldn’t believe their numbers. Even Bastien had not commanded an army this large.

And where the hell were they all coming from?

The gunshots ended as Ami ran out of ammo and exchanged her firearms for katanas.

Richart kept one eye on her as he continued to fight, knowing her strength could not match that of the insane vampires slathering around her like rabid dogs.

Sure enough, a vamp ducked one of her swings and hit Ami hard in the head.

Richart teleported behind her and caught her as she reeled dizzily. Wrapping one arm around her waist to steady her, he hurled throwing stars with the other until she regained her feet.

“Thanks,” she rasped over her shoulder.

“I’m taking you to safety,” he announced, grabbing one of her katanas and fending off the onslaught.

“No!”

It didn’t matter if she protested. She was injured and vulnerable. The vampires were targeting her as an easy kill.

“No!” she repeated and shoved him away. “I’m fine! Just give me my damned sword back!”

She didn’t wait, just yanked it out of his hand.

Richart felt something prick the skin beneath one ear.

As he reached up to see what it was (it felt like a bee sting), Marcus whipped around and yanked what looked like a tranquilizer dart from Richart’s neck.

A similar dart hit Marcus in the shoulder.

Richart frowned. Drugs didn’t affect immortals. Didn’t the vamps . . . know . . . that?

Weakness engulfed him. Richart stumbled and grunted as a vampire took advantage and stabbed him in the side. Lashing out, Richart searched the blood-painted mass of fighting, snarling bodies around him and saw his sister drop to her knees. “Lisette.”

“Richart!” Ami shouted.

Vision fuzzy, he turned and found her propping up a barely conscious Marcus, who now sported several of the darts.

“Get them out of here!” she shouted, her pretty, crimson-splashed face panicked. “Now!”

Richart teleported to his sister’s side, touched her shoulder, and took her to David’s home.

David was the second eldest and second most powerful immortal in existence and maintained an open door policy for all immortals, Seconds, and members of the human network. With the drug coursing through his system, slowing his movements, and clouding his thoughts, Richart could think of no safer place.

In David’s spacious living room, David’s Second Darnell, Lisette’s Second Tracy, and Sheldon sat side by side on one of the sofas, their gazes glued to Darnell’s laptop.

As soon as Richart and Lisette appeared, they leapt to their feet.

Richart staggered.

“What happened?” Sheldon asked, eyes wide.

Tracy and Darnell hurried over to catch Lisette as she lost consciousness.

“Drugs,” was all Richart could manage.

“Dr. Lipton!” Darnell bellowed over his shoulder moments before Richart teleported away.

As soon as he appeared back at the battle, another dart struck him.

Swearing, he yanked it out, sped over to his brother’s side, and touched his shoulder.

The world around them blurred as he took them to David’s.

Sheldon and Cameron, Étienne’s Second, waited anxiously in the living room. Darnell, Tracy, and Lisette were gone.

Cam lunged forward and caught Étienne as he slumped toward the floor. Sheldon stepped forward and held up an M16. “Take me back with you.”

Richart clasped Sheldon’s shoulder. The room around them dimmed, but they didn’t teleport. He tried again and only managed to teleport them to the front door.

Swearing, he grabbed the M16 and shoved Sheldon away. His surroundings went black. He made it back to the clearing this time. Sarah and Ami were trying to hold off the many remaining vampires while supporting Marcus and Roland.

Everything was . . . out of focus. Confusing. Richart couldn’t think straight. He needed to be able to think straight so he could teleport the others to safety.

Sarah and Ami spoke urgently beside him.

He looked around, past the glowing eyes of the vampires who circled them like jackals.

Where was Lisette? Had he teleported her already? What about. . .

Where was Sheldon? Hadn’t Sheldon been with him just now?

Sarah folded her husband over one shoulder, then leaned forward so Ami could fold Marcus over the other one. If she intended to flee, the heavy men’s weight would significantly slow her retreat.

Richart glanced down and discovered he held an M16. He thrust it into Ami’s small hands. His own seemed uncooperative.

Another dart hit him.

Sarah would never be able to outrun the vampires if Ami slowed her down, too.

Even as the thought flitted through his mind, he heard Ami convince Sarah to leave without her.

Good. At least Sarah, Roland, and Marcus would get away.

Richart and Ami would be left to fight the two dozen or more vampires who remained. Ami was mortal and no match for their speed or strength. And he was so weak he could barely lift his arms. If he couldn’t teleport the two of them out of there, their fates would be sealed. Both would die this night.

Odd that he would think of Jenna in that moment, lamenting that he would never see her again.

He needed to try to teleport Ami away.

As he reached for her shoulder, his vision dimmed and went black.

Yawning, Jenna focused gritty eyes on the clock again. It would be noon soon.

John slept in his bedroom. He had a final exam tomorrow and Jenna had insisted he get some rest.

Richart’s chest rose and fell in another barely detectable breath.

He still hadn’t stirred. Nor had his wounds miraculously healed as they often did in movies.

Was John right? Did Richart need blood?

She thought of all the films and TV shows she’d seen in which a human had slashed his or her wrist and held it over a vampire’s mouth until he latched on and began to drink.

She was so not going to do that.

Not yet, an inner voice murmured.

Not ever, she insisted, but wondered if she would feel the same way if Richart still hadn’t awakened by . . .

By when? Tomorrow? How long could they wait without trying something else?

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Jenna jumped at the loud pounding on the front door.

Frowning, she rose and headed for the living room.

John shuffled out of his bedroom, sweatpants and T-shirt rumpled, hair sticking up on one side. “Is he awake?”

“Not yet.”

“Was that—?”

Thump. Thump. Thump.

She nodded and continued into the living room and over to the door. Rising onto her toes, she peeked through the peephole.

A tall red-haired young man who looked to be her son’s age stood there, shifting anxiously from foot to foot.

“Yes?” she called.

He straightened, eyes fastening on the peephole. “Hi. I’m looking for Jenna?”

“And you are?”

“Sheldon Shepherd, ma’am.”

Who the hell was that?

“Do you know him?” John whispered.

“No.”

“What do you want?” John demanded in a deep, hostile voice.

Jenna peeked through the peephole again.

Sheldon went still. “I . . . ah . . . I’d just like to talk with you for a moment, ma’am, if that’s all right. We . . . ah . . . we have a mutual friend who . . . with whom I’ve lost contact and . . .” He glanced around, frustration written all over his face.

Jenna lowered her heels to the floor. “He must be a friend of Richart’s,” she whispered and reached for the lock.

John caught her hand. “Or he could be one of the people who hurt him.”

“If he’s a friend, maybe he can help him.”

“And if he’s not?”

“Hello?” Sheldon called.

“Just a minute,” Jenna called back.

“Hang on,” John said and hurried from the room. When he returned, he carried one of Richart’s daggers. “Just in case. No way am I going to let whoever cut him up cut you up.”

He casually slid his arm a little behind his back so the blade wasn’t visible.

Nerves jangling, Jenna opened the door.

Sheldon looked down at her. “Hi. Jenna?”

“Yes.”

He offered his hand. “I’m Sheldon. Nice to meet you.”

Jenna shook his hand, not getting any kind of danger vibes from him, but still on guard.

“I’m sorry to bother you, ma’am, but”—he looked to John, then met Jenna’s gaze again—“may I speak with you privately for a moment?”

“No,” John said before she could answer.

Jenna shot John a warning glare. “What is this about, Sheldon?”

He looked from side to side and down to see if anyone was outside who might overhear them. Leaning forward a bit, he murmured, “It’s about Richart. I don’t want you to worry, but . . . something happened last night and I’ve lost contact with him. I—”

“What is your relationship with Richart?”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I’m his nephew.”

Relief rushed through her. Richart had mentioned his nephew several times, but she didn’t remember him ever calling him by name. “Come in.” She stepped back so Sheldon could enter and closed the door behind him. “This is my son, John.”

Sheldon offered his hand to John, who shook it with reserve.

“What’s going on with Richart?” she asked.

“I’m not at liberty to go into detail. It’s highest level clearance only. In fact, I shouldn’t even be here, but . . . Richart was . . . out on assignment last night and some problems arose. The situation deteriorated quickly. There was a lot of confusion and . . . I’ve lost contact with him. I hoped you might have heard from him.” He glanced around the room, his words slowing as he noticed the splintered coffee table, the bloody fistprint on the wall. “I really need to talk to him.”

“He’s here,” she announced, hoping her instincts were correct when they insisted he was friend and not foe.

Relief blanketed his features, though some wariness remained. “Is he okay?”

She shook her head and motioned for him to follow her back to her bedroom. “He collapsed shortly after he . . . appeared.”

“Do you mean arrived?” he asked carefully.

“No, I mean he just appeared. Out of thin air.”

“Oh, shit. Okay. There’s an explanation for that.”

“Of course there is,” John drawled, bringing up the rear. “He’s a vampire.”

“He isn’t a vampire!” Sheldon denied. “Wait. You guys believe in vampires?”

“We sure as hell do now,” John answered.

Jenna nodded as they entered the bedroom. “It’s hard not to after seeing Richart’s glowing eyes and fangs.”

Again he swore. “Yyyyyyeah. There’s an explanation for that, too.”

They surrounded Jenna’s bed.

“Has he regained consciousness?” Sheldon asked as he leaned down and drew the covers back. Bandages and butterfly closures decorated most of Richart’s torso.

“No,” Jenna answered.

“Are his wounds still bleeding?”

“No.” Had she not seen Richart’s fangs and eyes, she would have puzzled over that. She had not even needed to apply pressure to them. The bleeding had just . . . stopped.

Sheldon peeled back one of the bandages. The wound beneath was a few inches long with ragged edges held together by butterfly closures. A dark, ugly bruise surrounded it. “Is this how it looked when you cleaned it?”

She nodded. “Should it have healed by now?”

He replaced the bandage and straightened. A full minute passed while he stared down at Richart. “You know what?” he said finally. “Screw protocol. Screw the rules.” He met Jenna’s gaze. “Yes, it should have healed by now. All of them should have at least partially healed by now, especially if you . . . I mean if he . . .”

She raised her eyebrows. “Drank my blood?”

Heavy pause. “Yes.”

“He didn’t.”

Sheldon spun on his heel and left the room. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he called over his shoulder. A moment later the front door opened and closed.

John brought the dagger out from behind his back and slipped it in the bedside table’s drawer. “This just keeps getting more and more surreal.”

Jenna nodded and sat on the bed. “It was weird hearing him confirm it.”

“Actually he said Richart wasn’t a vampire.”

“Then he asked me if Richart drank my blood and said his wounds should have healed by now.”

“Yeah. I don’t get it either.”

Sheldon returned in short order. Rapping his knuckles on the front door, he let himself in, then strode into the bedroom carrying a cooler and a duffle bag.

Jenna’s stomach sank when he opened the cooler and drew out two bags of blood.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” John muttered. “He’s going to drink that?”

“No.”

While Jenna watched in silence, Sheldon set up an IV and began siphoning blood into Richart’s vein.

“Why don’t you just . . . use his fangs?” she asked.

Sheldon gently peeled back Richart’s upper lip enough to show her that he no longer sported fangs. “Can’t use them if they aren’t there.”

A frown creased John’s face as Sheldon exchanged the already empty bag with a full one. “Shouldn’t it take longer for those bags to empty?”

“Honestly?” Sheldon put the empty bag back in the cooler. “I’ve never done this before, so I don’t know.”

Jenna stared at Richart, willing him to open his eyes and let them know this was helping. “Has this never happened before?”

“The injuries or the not waking up thing?”

“Both.”

Sheldon sat in the chair John had carried in earlier from the breakfast nook. “He’s been injured like this, but . . .”

“He didn’t lose consciousness?”

“No.”

“What’s different this time?”

Sheldon sighed and dragged a hand down over his face. “I shouldn’t be telling you any of this.”

“No,” she agreed. “Richart should. But he can’t. So I need you to do it for him.”

“We think he may have been drugged.”

“Who’s we?”

“That one would take too long to explain.”

John’s frown deepened. “Vampires can be drugged?”

“He isn’t—” Sheldon broke off, muttered something under his breath. “Until tonight, no drugs affected him. At all. Period. If he drank five gallons of vodka and swallowed four bottles of sleeping pills, nothing would happen. He wouldn’t get drunk. He wouldn’t get loopy. He wouldn’t get sleepy. And he sure as hell wouldn’t die. He would feel exactly the same afterward as he did before. He would just need a little blood to replace what he lost while his body repaired the damage. But tonight . . .” He shook his head. “He was hit with several darts carrying an unknown substance. The others hit with the same drug—”

“There are others?” Jenna asked, not knowing why that surprised her.

“Yes. They were transfused hours ago, right after it happened, and should have awoken immediately, but . . .”

“What?” she asked.

“They haven’t stirred. This drug is something we’ve never encountered before. We don’t know if it was a tranquilizer, a poison, or what. We don’t know why it affects them when nothing else does. And . . . we don’t know how to help them.”

Jenna swallowed hard. “Are you saying you don’t know if Richart is going to wake up?”

“He will,” Sheldon said, voice filled with determination. “He has to.” He replaced the second empty blood bag with another full one.

“Are you really his nephew?” she asked. Richart had withheld a lot of information from her. Had he lied outright, too?

“No, though I may as well be. He treats me like family because I’m a descendent of his first Second. Damien was my great-great-I-don’t-know-how-many-greats grandfather and was like a brother to him.”

Holy crap. “How old is Richart?”

He grimaced. “Old enough and mellow enough I hope to forgive me for not knowing how to keep my damned mouth shut. I’ll let him tell you his age.”

No wonder Richart hadn’t cared about the age difference. He must have inwardly laughed his ass off when she had asked him if it bothered him that she was older than him.

Sheldon peeled back the bandage he had peered under earlier. The wound it covered shrank as they watched, dwindling to nothing as the bruise around it faded.

John moved closer. “That’s amazing.”

Nodding, Sheldon systematically removed all of the other bandages.

Had Jenna not seen the wounds with her own eyes, she would have never known Richart had been injured.

Sheldon retook his seat and caught Jenna’s eye. “I hope you’ll cut him some slack over keeping this part of his life from you.”

John snorted.

Jenna . . . didn’t know what to think. She felt numbed by the shock of it all. “He knew how much I value honesty and chose to keep this from me.”

“It isn’t an easy secret to share.” When she remained silent, he said, “He didn’t cheat on you. He doesn’t have a wife tucked away somewhere. He’s just . . .”

“What?”

“Different. In a way that, when revealed, usually sparks violent reactions in others.”

“So—what—he thought if he told me I’d come after him with a torch-bearing mob and try to stake him?”

“You wouldn’t be the first to do so.”

That was unsetting. “People who found out what he is have tried to kill him?”

“Richart and others of his kind, yes.” He nodded at his uncle. “Who do you think developed the drug he was hit with tonight?”

Jenna stared down at Richart, her hip pressed to his.

His chest rose and fell more often. Not as often as a human’s, but more than it had before.

“Look,” Sheldon said, drawing her gaze, “I know all this must have been a hell of a shock to you. I know you must be pissed, finding out that Richart isn’t quite who you thought he was. But he’s an honorable man, Jenna. If he weren’t, I wouldn’t have practically begged him to let me serve as his Second.”

“You used that term before,” John said. “What’s a Second? Is that like his Renfield?”

Jenna’s head began to pound. Dracula had always had a human assistant, a Renfield as fans of the fictional figure had come to call him.

But Richart wasn’t like Dracula. He wasn’t.

“Yeah. I guess you could say that.”

Crap.

“And now, if you’ll excuse me for a moment, I need to make a call. A lot of people are worried about Richart. I should let them know he’s safe and tell them his condition.” He rose. “I didn’t ask this earlier . . .” He hesitated, as if he really didn’t want to ask whatever it was.

Could things actually get worse?

“Did Richart speak before he passed out?” he finally queried.

“Yes. A little bit. Most of it was in French—”

“Did he mention someone named Ami?”

“Yes. He said he left her behind.”

Sheldon gripped the back of the chair with a fist. A muscle in his jaw jumped.

Jenna remembered the torment in Richart’s eyes, in his voice. They’ll kill her. They’ll tear her apart. “He tried to go back for her, but couldn’t.”

Sheldon lowered his head, raised a hand to rub his eyes.

“He said they’d kill her,” she continued softly.

Head still down, Sheldon nodded. “Yeah.” Turning away, he headed out of the room. “Excuse me.”

Jenna saw her own concern reflected in her son’s face. She glanced at the clock. “When are you supposed to meet with your study group?”

“I don’t think I should go. I think I should stay here.”

“No.” He’d worked his ass off all semester, balancing work and school. And the exam he’d take tomorrow counted for sixty percent of his final grade. The partial scholarship that covered half his tuition was contingent upon his maintaining a high GPA. “Go. Study. I’ll be fine.”

Sheldon spoke softly in the living room. “Cam? It’s Sheldon. I found him.”

John looked toward the living room. “It isn’t safe.”

“That isn’t for you to decide,” Jenna reminded him.

Again Sheldon spoke. “I need you to keep this from Reordon if you can. Richart didn’t want him to know. He’s been seeing someone. I think the drug got his wires all crossed and he accidentally teleported to her place. . . . No. She cleaned him up and has been watching over him. . . . No . . . I’m sure. She hasn’t told anyone. Nor will she. She cares about him as much as he cares for her.”

“John,” Jenna said firmly, “go. I don’t know what I’ve gotten myself into, but I’m not going to let it threaten your future.” He opened his mouth to protest. “Go!” she insisted.

Sighing, he pointed to the drawer in which he’d placed the dagger. “If you need it . . .”

She nodded.

He padded down the hallway to his bedroom, went inside, and closed the door.

“I’ll stay with him,” Sheldon said. “No, he’s safe. No one else can track him here. Besides, you can’t do anything for him there that we haven’t already done for him here. . . . No way . . . I don’t give a damn. Richart doesn’t want Reordon anywhere near her. Why the hell do you think I’m using a prepaid, untraceable cell phone? Richart would kick my ass from here to Antibes if I let any harm come to her.”

Was Reordon Richart’s enemy? Sheldon seemed to think she needed protection from him, whoever he was.

“Have Étienne and Lisette regained consciousness?” He swore. “What about Roland and Marcus?”

Jenna combed her fingers through Richart’s hair. Étienne and Lisette were his brother and sister. He had spoken of them with great affection. She hated to hear that they, too, had been harmed.

“Listen, there’s something else,” Sheldon said, voice somber. “I think Ami may be dead. Apparently Richart tried to teleport her with him, but the drug was fucking with him too much and she didn’t make it here. . . . What? . . . He did? . . . Uh-huh. . . . No, I didn’t bring my cell with me. I didn’t want Reordon to be able to locate me. I’ll just call every hour to check in.”

John returned to Jenna’s bedroom, clothed in jeans and a heavy sweater with a book bag looped over his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? I don’t feel right about leaving. I’d rather risk losing my scholarship than risk losing you. You’re more important.”

Jenna crossed to him and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “I’m fine. Sheldon will be here with me.”

“Mom, we don’t know Sheldon from Adam. For all we know, he’s—”

“I trust him,” she said. “If you’re worried, just call me in a while to see how things are going.”

He groaned. “Fine. But if you don’t answer, I’m hauling ass back here with reinforcements.”

“That’s fine, honey. Study hard.”

Rolling his eyes, he left the room. “If anything happens to her,” she heard him tell Sheldon as he passed him in the hallway, “I’ll hunt you motherfuckers down and laugh while I feed you your own entrails.”

Jenna leaned into the hallway and stared at her son’s back with wide eyes. She had never heard him sound so menacing.

“Dude,” Sheldon responded, “vampires threaten to feed me my own entrails all the time. You’re going to have to come up with something better than that.”

“Fine. I’ll cut off your balls, shove them down your throat, and watch you choke on them.”

“That’ll do.” Sheldon shuddered. “Okay, I see we’re going to have to have a little talk, John. Here’s the thing. Since Richart is planning to explore the Kama Sutra with your mom, if she forgives him . . .”

“Really?” John said. “You’re going to put that image in my head?”

“. . . you and I are going to be running into each other a lot, so you need to understand something,” he said earnestly. “You can’t threaten a man’s balls, dude. A man’s balls are off limits. Even vampires don’t fuck with a man’s balls. That’s just . . . mean.”

John glanced at Jenna.

She raised an eyebrow. “Still think I’m in danger?”

“Hell, no.”

“Good. Go study.”

Shaking his head, John left.

Sheldon met Jenna in the doorway. “I know you’re probably just as concerned as he is, but I won’t let any harm come to you, Jenna. And I promise I’m not here to harm you myself. If I let you get so much as a paper cut, Richart would hang my ass out to dry.”

“You seem very loyal to him.”

“I’d give my life to protect him. And, since he cares for you, that means I’d give my life to protect you, too.” His voice rang with sincerity.

Jenna nodded. “So what do we do now?”

He sighed. “Now . . . we wait.”

Silence descended upon the room, heavy with things unsaid.

“It belatedly occurs to me,” Richart began rustily, “that I should have asked you if you wished me to leave.”

“No.” She added nothing more. Nor did she move away, sitting close behind him on the bed.

Richart found himself at a loss. He didn’t know how to do this. How to reveal all of his secrets. How to coax a human into accepting him without fear or loathing. A human whose scorn he couldn’t bear to face.

“Why won’t you look at me?” she asked.

Richart rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping it would help clear his head and ease the pain it housed. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Done what?”

“Tried to find a way to tell the woman I love that I’m not human.”

She drew in a sharp breath.

“Tried to find the right words to convince her not to fear me or revile me after letting her see me at my worst, covered in blood, with my damned eyes glowing and my fangs bared. What you must think of me . . .” Rising shakily, he braced a hand on the wall.

“Are you okay?”

He winced. “My head is fucking killing me.” He cupped his throbbing forehead in a palm. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to speak so crudely.”

“I’ve said worse, stuck in traffic.”

His lips twitched. Only Jenna could make him smile when things looked so damned grim. It was one of the reasons he loved her despite all of the monumental obstacles littering their path. “You know what the ironic thing is?”

“What?”

“If this battle had not taken place, I would have told you everything last night.”

The bedding rustled as Jenna rose on the other side of the bed.

“I know it sounds like I’m just saying that to cover my ass, but it was your night off. If we couldn’t be alone here, I was going to boot Sheldon out of my place and . . .” He shook his head. “I wanted so badly to make love to you, but didn’t feel right doing so without first telling you the truth.”

Jenna circled the bed and stood no more than a foot away from him. “Is that why you held back whenever we . . . ?”

“Kissed?” He studied her beautiful face, following the lovely line of her neck down to her full breasts. “Touched?” Despite the lethargy that plagued him, Richart felt his pulse leap and his body harden as memories of slipping his hands beneath her shirt, unfastening her bra, and filling his palms with that soft, silky flesh flitted through his mind. Dragging the cloth up and closing his lips over the tights buds. Hearing her moan and feeling her clutch him tightly in response.

Squeezing his eyes closed, he turned his head aside.

“Richart? What’s wrong? Is it your head?”

He shook his head. “It’s my eyes.”

“Are they hurting?”

This was so not the time for his nature to assert itself. “No, it’s . . .” A huff of frustration escaped him. “They glow when I’m in the grips of strong emotion and—trust me when I say I realize now is not the time for this—but just the thought of making love with you . . .”

He jumped when her small, cool fingers touched his jaw and turned his face back toward her.

“Let me see,” she coaxed.

He did as bidden.

Her hazel eyes brightened, illuminated by the amber glow emanating from his own.

She raised her other hand, cupped his face in both, and studied him with such painful intensity that he forgot to breathe. “They’re beautiful,” she whispered.

A lump rose in his throat. “Don’t fear me, Jenna.”

Amusement lit her features. “It’s kind of hard to be afraid of a vampire who apologizes for using harsh language in front of a lady.”

Could he really be so lucky? “I’m not a vampire.”

“And I’m not a lady.” She motioned to the bed. “Stop worrying about how I’ll react, sit down before you fall down, and explain all of this to me.” She started to step back, then paused. “Wait. Scratch that. I need to do something first.” Slipping her arms around his waist, she pressed her face to his chest and hugged him close.

Heart pounding, Richart wrapped his arms around her.

“There was a moment last night,” she murmured, “when I thought you were dead. You lost consciousness and your chest stopped rising. I couldn’t find a pulse.” Her hold tightened. “I’ve only felt that overwhelming despair and helplessness once in my life, when police showed up at my door and told me John’s father had been killed in a car accident.” She burrowed closer, her breath warm on his chest. “I don’t ever want to feel that way again.”

Richart buried his face in her hair. “I’m sorry.”

Many long moments passed while they clung to each other.

Sighing, Jenna loosened her hold and looked up at him. “Feelings that deep aren’t going to dissolve overnight because I found out your eyes are prettier and your teeth are sharper than I thought they were.”

Richart dipped his head and captured her lips with his own, pouring everything he felt into the contact until both were breathless.

When she placed a hand on his chest and applied gentle pressure, he reluctantly withdrew.

“I need you to explain everything to me before we get too distracted.”

Nodding, he sank onto the bed, stretched his legs out, and leaned back against the headboard, then pulled her down beside him, catching and holding her hand.

“Now they’re even brighter,” she said, her eyes locking on his with fascination.

“You do that to me,” he admitted. “I’ve had a hell of a time hiding it from you.”

Swiveling to face him, she sat with her legs crossed and toyed with his fingers. “So . . . how old are you?”

He grimaced. “Two hundred and thirty.”

She shook her head. “I feel so stupid for making such a big deal out of being older than you.”

“Please don’t. I was the one who feared you would reject me if you knew my true age.”

She offered him a small smile. “I won’t lie. If you actually looked your age, I wouldn’t have given you a second glance.”

He laughed. “I don’t blame you.”

“How can you be so . . . ?”

“Old and young at the same time?”

She nodded. “And not be a vampire? I mean, the fangs . . .”

“I’m infected with a virus. A very rare symbiotic virus that behaves like no other on the planet. We don’t know where it originated. We know only that it first conquers, then replaces the immune system, lending those infected with it far greater strength, speed, and regenerative capabilities. It heightens our senses, causes extreme photosensitivity, and . . . we don’t age. Essentially, we are immortal, and call ourselves such.”

Jenna stared at him, her thoughts reeling. “A virus.”

“Yes, one that can only be transmitted through a bite.”

“Do you drink blood?”

“I do require frequent infusions of blood. The virus depletes my body’s supply as it repairs damage. But I don’t drink it. During my transformation, I grew a pair of retractable fangs that function like IV needles. When I bite into a blood bag, my fangs siphon the blood directly into my veins.”

“Do you ever bite people?”

“We all did before we were able to collect and store blood donations in our own blood banks. But we never frightened or killed the donors.” He grimaced. “Well, not unless they were fiends who preyed upon the innocent.”

“So you’re an immortal, not a vampire.”

“Yes.”

“But Sheldon mentioned a vampire king, so vampires do exist.”

“Yes. I was different from other humans even before I was infected, as were my brother and sister and all of our immortal brethren. We called ourselves gifted ones. We didn’t know it then and still don’t know why, but our DNA is more advanced—a great deal more advanced—than that of ordinary humans.” He shrugged. “It’s why I can teleport.”

“That isn’t a result of the virus?”

“No. I could teleport as a child. My brother and sister are both telepathic. Some can heal with their hands. Others can move things with their minds. The eldest of us can do far more.” He toyed with her hand. “As you said, vampires do exist. They are ordinary humans who have been infected with the same virus. They lack our special abilities and, without the protection our advanced DNA affords us, suffer progressive brain damage that causes a rapid descent into madness. They prey upon humans, inflicting upon their victims every monstrous impulse.”

“How have I never heard of this?” she asked in disbelief. “How have none of us ever heard of this?”

“Immortals hunt vampires and destroy them. It’s what we do, every night, to eradicate the threat and to prevent the public from learning of our existence and theirs.”

“But, why don’t the vampires’ victims report it?”

“They have no memory of the attacks.”

“You erase their memories?”

“No. Small glands above our fangs—and the fangs of vampires—release a chemical that behaves much like GHB under the pressure of a bite. If the victim lives, he or she will have no memory of what happened.”

“I’m sorry. I’m just having a hard time believing that.”

He looked away. “Do you remember the first night we met, Jenna?”

“Yes. You came into the store and asked me where to find Krazy Glue.”

When next he met her gaze, his eyes had returned to their usual brown. “That wasn’t the first night we met.”

“What do you mean?”

“A few weeks before that, I was hunting in the area—”

“Hunting vampires.”

“Yes. And found . . . you. You must have just come off your shift. Four vampires had swept you behind the building and cornered you.”

Her blood went cold. “What?”

“You fought and pepper-sprayed one, but were bitten by another before I could wrest you from him.”

Horror filled her. Somehow this revelation was worse than anything that had come before it. She had been attacked? By vampires? And had no memory of it? “That isn’t possible.”

“There was a night, was there not, a few weeks before we met in which you couldn’t remember leaving work the night before, driving home, or putting yourself to bed?”

Oh, crap. There had been. She had awoken in her bed, still wearing her work clothes, and hadn’t been able to remember how she had gotten there. It had all been a blank. She had ultimately chalked it up to exhaustion.

“I was attacked by vampires?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” How could he keep something like that from her?

“Jenna—”

“I was attacked, Richart! You should have told me!”

“How?” he asked helplessly.

“Easy. You should have said, Jenna, I know this is going to sound strange, but you were attacked by vampires and I rescued—okay, I see your point. I would have thought you were off your rocker.” She rubbed a shaking hand over her face. “I can’t believe this. Did they . . . ? What did they do to me?”

“Other than the bite, you were unharmed. They must have just taken you when I came upon you.”

“Am I infected?” If all Richart had said was true, she would turn into a psychotic vampire if she transformed. She didn’t have the special DNA needed to make her immortal. She couldn’t read minds or teleport or see the future or whatever else they could do.

“No. A single brief bite won’t turn you. You would either have to be bitten fairly often over a stretch of time or have your blood drained until you were on the brink of death, then be infused wholly with infected blood.”

And the vampire had only bitten her the once. Briefly.

Richart covered the hand she had braced on the mattress with one of his. “Are you all right?”

She met his concerned gaze. “I’m freaked out over being attacked and having no memory of it. That’s really scary.”

“I know.”

“So you—what—killed them Blade-style?”

He smiled. “All but one, who got away, yes.”

“One got away?” Panic shrieked through her. “What if he came back? What if he bit me again and I just can’t remember it?”

“He didn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Have you experienced missing time again? Have there been any blank spots you couldn’t recall?”

She thought hard, trying to think of any other instances. “I don’t think so. But how can I be sure?”

“I’ve been guarding you,” he admitted, seeming almost ashamed.

“Guarding me?”

“I used speed and stealth to obtain your work schedule and have been at the store every night when you arrived and departed in case he returned and tried to harm you.”

She stared at him. “Every night?”

“Yes.”

“Is he likely to return?”

“No. He would have done so before now.”

“Yet you continued to watch over me.”

He shrugged. “At least you said watched. Sheldon kept accusing me of stalking you.”

She supposed some would see that as stalking. To Jenna, it seemed sweet. He had been protecting her all this time. “So . . . that’s everything then?”

He lowered his eyes.

“Damn it! What else could there be? You’re immortal. I was attacked by vampires. Vampires nearly killed you last night. You can teleport. What are you going to tell me now? That Sheldon is a werewolf?”

“Sheldon isn’t a werewolf, no.”

“Then, what?” She wondered how many times she would feel this gut-churning dread before the day ended. “Did you ask me out because you were trying to lure the vampire out of hiding?”

His head snapped up. “No! Of course not. I asked you out because the night I rescued you you kissed me.”

What? “I kissed you?”

“Yes. You were grateful that I saved you. You were drugged by the vampire’s bite, so your inhibitions were lowered and . . . you kissed me.” His eyes began to glow again.

Why did that make her heart pound? “Please tell me it wasn’t a sloppy, drunken kiss.”

“It was not a sloppy, drunken kiss. It was sweet and erotic all at once and I was captivated. I couldn’t stop thinking about you afterward. Days went by. Then weeks. I watched over you. Watched you come and go. Listened to you chat with your colleagues. And, when I couldn’t keep my distance any longer, I gave in to temptation and . . .”

“Asked me where to find the Krazy Glue?”

“Yes.”

“Your eyes are glowing again.”

“I can’t help it. Even with my ears filled with cotton and a sledgehammer assaulting my head, I want you.”

And she wanted him. Despite everything. Or because of everything. She would decide which later.

Jenna did everything she could to convince herself that Richart was wrong, that it was just a bad case of the flu. Hadn’t Debbie even come down with it? And Jed in Lawn and Garden? Harry in Automotive?

But it was hard to ignore the looks Richart and Dr. Lipton kept exchanging. Looks that said Jenna was screwed.

“It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Jenna,” Dr. Lipton said as Richart lowered her to an exam table. “Richart talks about you all the time.”

“Nice to meet you, too. This is my son, John.”

“Good to meet you, John.”

“Nice to meet you,” he murmured.

“Richart,” Dr. Lipton said, “you and John go wait out in the hallway so your hovering won’t distract me.” She winked at Jenna. “Plus, if Richart isn’t in the room, I can share all kinds of embarrassing stories about him with you.”

Richart narrowed his eyes in warning, then kissed Jenna. “We’ll be right outside if you need us.”

Jenna smiled and nodded.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Dr. Lipton shook her head. “That man is so in love with you.”

“I love him, too.”

Dr. Lipton’s gaze sharpened as she donned a pair of latex gloves. “Enough to transform for him?”

“I thought I couldn’t do that safely.”

“If he’s right and you’ve been infected, you may not have a choice. How many times has he bitten you?” There was no mistaking her disapproval.

“That’s just it. He hasn’t.”

Her brow furrowed. “Ever?”

“Ever. A vampire bit me once a couple of months ago. He caught me leaving my job and Richart stopped him. But Richart has been there every night since and made sure the vampire didn’t return. I can’t be transformed by just one bite, right?”

“Not unless he drained you almost to the point of death, then infused you with his own blood.”

“Richart said he didn’t do that; so it must be the flu.”

Dr. Lipton didn’t seem convinced. “Let’s start with your symptoms.”

Jenna rattled them off and answered questions about severity, onset, and the like as Dr. Lipton took her temperature and engaged in various and assorted poking and prodding.

She was pretty in a girl-next-door kind of way with brown hair, brown eyes, and a trim figure encased in jeans, a T-shirt, and a lab coat.

“I’m going to level with you, Jenna,” she said finally. “I think Richart’s right. I’ll run a blood test to be sure, but I already know what it’s going to tell me.”

Jenna broke out in a cold sweat as fear rippled through her. “I’m becoming a vampire?”

“Yes.”

She would suffer progressive brain damage and go insane.

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Lipton offered with genuine remorse. “There really isn’t any sugarcoating this. I can’t even give you hope that you might be a gifted one. Nearly all gifted ones have black hair and brown eyes. A few, like me, have brown hair. But never red.”

“I’m a brunette. I dye my hair.”

Dr. Lipton studied her. “Have you noticed any special gifts or abilities? Know the phone is going to ring before it does?”

“No.”

“Know what someone else is feeling? Hear their thoughts?”

“No. I don’t have any special abilities, Dr. Lipton.”

“Melanie.”

“I’m screwed, aren’t I, Melanie?”

She sighed. “Yes. As I said, I’ll run some tests to be sure. See how far the infection has progressed. Take a look at your DNA and see if it bears the extra memo groups that would identify you as a gifted one and protect you from the brain damage. But I’m not very hopeful.”

“I can’t believe this.” Her mind raced as nightmare images unfolded before her. John having to watch his mother descend into madness. Jenna having to leave to ensure she wouldn’t harm him. Richart watching and waiting for her to reach the point of no return, then taking her life.

What would it do to him to watch her turn into one of the monsters he hunted? Would she have to leave him, too?