Sins-flesh

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Sins of the Flesh Book V in the Shadow Dweller Series by J. C. Wilder

ISBN 1-55316-073-8 Published by LTDBooks www.ltdbooks.com

Copyright © 2001 J. C. Wilder Cover Art by Emily Black Cover Art copyright © 2001 Published in Canada by LTDBooks, 200 North Service Road West, Unit 1, Suite 301, Oakville, ON L6M 2Y1 [www.ltdbooks.com] All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher is an infringement of the copyright law. National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data Wilder, J. C., 1965Sins of the flesh [computer file] ISBN 1-55316-073-8 (electronic) ISBN 1-55316-927-1 (REB 1100 1200) I. Title. PS3623.I45S55 813'.6 C2001-902068-6

Dedication To my fellow "Serious Writers" - Beth, Carol, Donna and Rosemary. Thanks for kicking me in the backside when I needed it.

Acknowledgments Writers may work alone but we don't work in a vacuum. Many thanks go out to the following people without whom this book would have never been completed: Miss Binta, friend extraordinaire! Stuart, who still thinks every hero is modeled after him and he just might be right... a little anyway... Debbie, thanks for the cover photo and the laughs. Emily, for managing to take my vision and turn it into a gorgeous cover every time!

Table Of Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Epilogue One With The Hunger Shameless About the Author Publisher info:

Chapter 1 Not her, please let it be anyone but her. Alexandre Saint-Juste, vampire and head of the Council of Elders, looked up from the photo of a burned corpse he was studying to see a figure hesitating in the doorway. She was little more than a shadow in the dim lighting but he knew it washer . The soft, citrus scent of her perfume gave her away. Sunni. He closed his tired eyes. He was slipping. As an Elder, it was near impossible for another vampire to sneak up unawares. He'd trained himself to be aware of his surroundings at all times and the talent had saved his life on numerous occasions. But he'd been pushing himself too hard lately and, if he didn't take more care, the next time might be his last. He rubbed his forehead. Maybe she'd be gone when he opened his eyes? That would be his wish. Could he be that lucky? He dropped his hand and opened his eyes. Damn, she was still hovering in the doorway. Inwardly he groaned. Right now he had his hands full and the last thing he needed was this flighty, empty-headed little vampire. As she stepped into the room, he dropped the photo onto the others scattered across the top of his

desk. Knowing Sunni, he'd not get any work done until he could get the little busybody out of his house. He made a mental note to fire his housekeeper, Nelson, who'd obviously let her in the front door. He was a sucker for a pretty face. "What can I do for you, Sunni?" "A lot actually. The question is, will you?" She grinned as she advanced, her sandal- shod feet making no sound on the thick carpet. "But today I'm going to do you a favor." His mouth went dry as she strolled closer. Sunni was tiny-barely over five feet-and she resembled a young Mia Farrow with her cap of short, silky blonde hair, doe-brown eyes and delicate features. Dressed in a sheer, yellow, cropped shirt over a matching bikini-style top, she was bare from the bottom of her insubstantial shirt to the waistband of her skirt. Slung low on her slim hips, the cotton skirt looked as if it had been left wadded in the back of a drawer for weeks. The rainbow-colored material swirled about her slim legs, briefly outlining each delectable inch as she walked. Tiny she may be, but she was exquisitely formed from her pale hair to the tips of her petal-pink toenails. Damn, she was beautiful. Alexandre swallowed hard against the unfamiliar rush of lust, his toes curling in his Bacco Bucci shoes. Startled, he stepped back and sat hard in his desk chair. He must be more tired than he thought. Slick with pale gloss, a bewitching smile played about Sunni's mouth as if she could read the lascivious thoughts dancing through his mind. His gaze shifted from her mouth to skim her pert breasts and dropped to her hips, which swayed provocatively with her easy gait. The air in the room seemed suddenly in short supply. What the devil was wrong with him? He'd never had a reaction to a woman like this, and certainly not with a woman like Sunni. She was luscious...No, no-annoying-that was the word. Annoying and exasperating. That summed up the little vampire. He reached up to loosen his tie. His reaction to her was simply a combination of his need to feed and lack of rest. Yes, that was it. A few hours of sleep and a quick prowl would set his world to rights once more. Fighting for a cool demeanor, he fixed a bored expression on his face as he forced his gaze to meet hers once more. "What kind of favor would this be?" he asked. "Jennifer sent these over to you." From behind her voluminous skirt, she withdrew a medium-sized manila envelope. "Knowing I was headed this way she asked if I'd drop it off." Alexandre silently cursed his old friend as he reached for the offering. Jennifer knew Sunni annoyed the hell out of him on a good day, which this definitely was not. Her eyes gleamed with secret amusement as she reached the edge of the desk and leaned forward, offering him a glimpse of her cleavage as she handed the envelope to him. "Thank you." He took it, forcing his gaze away from her shadowy cleft.

He'd been waiting for this information since he'd received word of its arrival. He tried to ignore the delectable creature before him as he opened the envelope and withdrew a folded sheet of paper and several photos. A quick glance told him the photos weren't of the greatest quality. Fuzzy and indistinct, he nevertheless recognized the features of Cassiopeia, the woman who'd betrayed the Council of Elders by siding with the vampire Mikhail in an attempt to overthrow Alexandre's rule. The ever-present pain in the back of his neck made itself known once more as he stared at the blurry face of his one-time co-council and lover. With the distinctive features of middle- eastern descent, Cass was intelligent and charismatic, an excellent conversationalist and breathtakingly beautiful. Her thick dark hair was piled on her head with a few tendrils allowed to escape and curl against her slender throat. With deep brown eyes framed by sooty lashes and a curvaceous figure usually covered in the finest of silks, she was an exquisite woman to behold and an elder vampire to be feared. She was also cunning and devious as only a woman could be. Curse her black soul. He flicked the photo to the back of the pack and scanned the others. All were of either Cass or the immortal revenant Miles. As one of Mikhail's creations, he'd been rumored to be traveling with Cass for the past month or so, acting as her personal servant. He was intelligent and ruthless, an adversary to be wary of. He was also the keeper of Elsabeth's diary, a tome sought by everyone in the preternatural world. He flipped through the photos once more, noting that all of them had been taken in Vienna. Nothing new. She'd been in residence for the past few weeks while Miles had been seen in various parts of Austria and the Carpathian Mountains. He dropped the photos in his lap and flicked open the note to scan its contents. Val and Shai were currently in Vienna on Cass' trail. According to the hastily scrawled memo, they'd lost both Cass and Miles several days ago. He frowned. Those two could be anywhere in the world within twenty-four hours. "Damn," he muttered. "Problems?" A sweet voice sounded in his ear. Alexandre's head jerked upward, and he was startled to find Sunni standing beside him. Her perfume teased his nose, sending a rush of heat shafting through his body. The warmth of her skin radiated against his arm as she leaned close. She'd fed recently, giving her skin the blush and warmth characteristic of a live human. She licked her lips, and he felt the sensual draw of her presence like never before. His breath caught in his throat as she moved in, her breath soft on his cheek. She was going to kiss him! He shifted away then froze as she reached out, the silver rings on her fingers gleaming as she aimed for his lap.

Oh, no. The last thing he wanted her to see was the evidence of his arousal. If she ever found out how much her presence affected him physically, he'd never get rid of her. Then he realized she was merely reaching for the pictures in his lap. Half relieved, half-disappointed, he caught her wrist. Pushing her away, he gently maneuvered her against the desk, away from the photos and his lap. "No problem that I can't handle." His words came out more abruptly than he'd planned. She placed her hands on the edge of the desk and, to his surprise, boosted herself onto the polished top. "Your reaction certainly indicated there was a problem." Her soft green gaze was fixed on his face as if committing it to memory. "You're mistaken." Disturbed by her nearness, he gathered the photos and prepared to rise. She crossed her legs and he heard the soft tinkle of bells. He looked down and caught a glimpse of her slender ankles, barely visible under the skirt hem. A finely wrought gold anklet with a row of tiny bells encircled one of them. A rush of desire hit, rendering him so dizzy he had to look away. He didn't dare move, especially since his increasing erection would tell her exactly what effect she had on him. Trapped by his wayward impulses, he dropped the photos in his lap, hoping they sufficiently covered his body's betrayal. "Hmm." She began to swing her leg, the sound of the bells causing him to grit his teeth. "I assume since it's from Val that the news is about Cass?" Alexandre frowned, irritated with her and himself. He shifted, trying to ease the ache in his groin. "What would you know of the situation?" She shrugged. "Probably as much as any spectator. Mikhail invoked the Law of Seven and challenged you for the rule of the Council. To aid him in his cause, he enlisted your right-hand people, the vampires Edward and Cass, thus vacating two spots on the Council. Mikhail's bid for your position was thwarted when he ran into Mac...a very talented Druid from what I understand." She leaned forward, and her voice dropped. "It's rumored that Mikhail was blinded in the ensuing battle. Since they lost, Edward, Cass and Mikhail have been on the run for the past fifteen months. The majority of the preternatural world is looking for them but you're determined to find them first." "For a spectator you seem to be remarkably well informed." Sunni straightened and flashed him a bright smile. "What can I say?" She shrugged. "I'm observant and I pay attention." "So it would seem. However, the one thing you forgot to mention is that Edward is dead, killed last fall." Her expression turned thoughtful. "I hadn't heard. So now you're looking for the remaining two?"

Cass, Mikhail, Miles, the diary, and a few hundred of their supporters, but that was none of her business. He nodded. "Something like that." "I might be able to give you a hand with this." "Indeed?" He swallowed a laugh, fighting to keep his tone level. He couldn't imagine any way she could be of help to him. "How is that?" "Well, in case you haven't noticed, I am a woman." She leaned forward and he caught another whiff of her perfume. "I might be able to give you some valuable insight into what Cass will do and where she'll go next." Alexandre couldn't contain his snort of laughter and he covered it with a cough as her eyes narrowed dangerously. He cleared his throat. "Thank you for the kind offer, Sunni. I'll certainly keep you in mind should something come up which would require your, er...particular talents." A hurt look came into her eyes and she leaned back, dropping her gaze. Damn, why do I feel as if I've just kicked a puppy? "Sunni-" "I saw him." She pointed to the top photograph in his lap. He looked down and saw she was pointing at a clear photo of Miles. "Where did you see him?" "Here in New Orleans." He stifled the urge to groan. This was just great. She was so intent upon helping him that she was seeing things. There was no way Miles or Cass would enter his city. As prey, it was too dangerous for them. They knew he was on their trail. He looked up. "Sunni-" "It was a few days ago, I guess." She frowned. "I don't remember for sure. Maybe three days? I went out to pick up some henna and cloth and he was standing by the fountain in Jackson Square." His looked at the picture once more. Could Sunni be right? Was Miles here in New Orleans? He picked it up and beneath it was a fuzzy photo of Cass and there, beside her in the shadows of the Palazzo Grassi, was the hulking figure of Miles. He flipped it over to look at the date. Nine days prior, they were together in Venice. He shuffled through the rest of the photos. None of the others showed them together, just that one. Were they still together? He looked at Sunni and held up the clearest one of Miles. "Are you sure it was him?" She nodded, her expression earnest. "Yes. I couldn't miss him to save my life-he's huge." "Was anyone with him?"

"Not that I saw. It was late and not terribly crowded. He was standing by the fountain, looking around as if he were waiting for someone. I only noticed because he's a revenant." She grinned. "I'm getting better at picking them out." Chances were, if Sunni was right and Miles was here, then Cass was with him. But why would they come to New Orleans? They both knew he and several other Elders lived in and around the city. They certainly knew they were being hunted. The Council had levied a death sentence on Cass for treason. For now, Miles had no charges against him, but his transgressions were mounting with each passing day. What could they hope to accomplish by entering his city? "Who is he?" Sunni plucked the photo of Miles from his fingertips. "An old acquaintance." He retrieved the picture before she could get a good look at it. She snagged the next one, a close-up shot of Cass taken several days before the photo with Miles. "How old?" Alexandre reclaimed the second photo and opened the center desk drawer. "Not too old." He scooped everything-all of the photos, the letter and the documentation he'd been reviewing before she arrived-into the drawer then closed it, safe from her inquisitive eyes. "Was there anything else you needed?" He rose from the chair. "Is he mixed up with Mikhail and Cass?" She slipped off the desk, her skirt brushing his pant legs. Standing so close to him, he was once more assailed with the warmth of her skin and the scent of her delicate perfume. He ground his teeth in frustration. She was maddening. There'd been many times he'd had to restrain himself from throttling her. He'd noticed her as a man would a beautiful woman on several occasions, then she would spoil the illusion by opening her mouth and irritating the hell out of him. The logical side of his brain knew Sunni could never keep him satisfied as a mate and a relationship with her would be a disaster for both of them. His job as an Elder and the head of the Council was to look out for the health and welfare of all preternatural beings. Regardless of how he felt, he didn't want Sunni anywhere near him when the carnage began. He would do anything in his power to avoid the coming battle, but it was inevitable. Cass and her ilk would see to it. He ruthlessly tamped down his wayward desires. His position required it. "No, he is not mixed up with them." He moved around her. "Then why is he in a picture with her?" She stepped in his way. Her gaze was direct as she placed her hands on his chest to prevent his escape. "You're lying to me." He encircled her wrists with his hands. A shock radiated through his palms at the feel of her skin against his. "This may come as a surprise to you, Sunni, but it's none of your business." He gently removed her hands and pushed her back before releasing her to step away. "It is my business if it concerns the Council." She moved to intercept him, crossing her arms over her

chest. "I'm a vampire and the Council is supposed to represent all of the Shadow Dwellers. If this man is wanted by the Council then I, as a citizen, have a right to know." He fought the urge to roll his eyes. She was, without a doubt, the most exasperating female he'd ever met. "First off, he isn't a wanted person and we have little interest in him, only Cass. Second, there isn't much of a Council in power at this point. Only Fayne and myself are left." "It's said that Val will be stepping in for Cass and you've asked Quinn to assume the position vacated by Bliss' death." Damn, whom is she talking to? "That is a possibility, but as of yet, nothing has been decided." "Alexandre-" He held up his hand to stem the tide of words. His patience had reached the end and it was time to take off the kid gloves with the annoying little blonde. "Look, I appreciate your interest, but right now I have my hands full with this and other matters. Everything is under control and there's nothing to concern you." "Nothing to concern my little head about you mean?" Her eyes narrowed as she placed her hands on her hips. "I just want to help, so why won't you let me? I might be able to find this man. Really, I'm very stealthy and..." She moved backward and her foot caught in the hem of her skirt, causing her to stumble. Pinwheeling her arms, she gave a squawk and reached for the desk to stop her fall. Before he could give it a thought, Alexandre's hand shot out and he caught her arm, pulling her upright. The warmth of her skin singed his palm as a jolt of awareness shot up his arm. Stung, he released her and stepped back. "So I see. Graceful, too." He winced inwardly at his sarcastic tone. What the devil was wrong with him? He never gave in to his emotions, especially where his constituents were concerned. Her expression turned annoyed. "It was an accident and it could have happened to anyone." "Anyone wearing a skirt that's too long, you mean?" Damn, there I go again. She put her small fists on her hips and cocked her head to one side. "Since when are you the fashion police? You probably own twenty suits, all in the same color and style. Black." She snorted. "That's original." He gave an exasperated sigh. "Look, I appreciate your bringing the envelope over." He ushered her toward the door, reluctant to touch her but desperate to get her away from him before he did something unforgivable-like kiss her. Or strangle her. Both were possible right now. "I need to ask you to leave. I have many issues I need to attend to post haste and I really don't need any help at this time. If I do, I will certainly contact you." She stepped to the side, her expression remote. The warmth and fire that had inhabited her eyes as she'd entered the room was now but a memory. Her gaze chilled his skin with its coolness. "Of course you will.

As long as the task requires-how did you put it-my 'particular talents,' I believe?" She turned to exit the library. "Don't patronize me, Alexandre. I'm not a child and I'm fully capable of taking care of myself." "Sunni-" He followed as she stalked into the hallway. She ignored him. Throwing open the front door, she fled into the New Orleans night in a flurry of color and bells. The door slammed shut behind her. He dropped his head, fixing his gaze on the tips of his polished shoes. Silence surrounded him, broken only by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the far corner of the hall. Damn.

Chapter 2 "It isn't working." Sunni stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth as she completed a graceful sweep of the peacock's neck. The tube of henna moved along Maeve's skin in a slow, practiced arc, leaving the thick paste to mark a trail. The mehndi tattoo was taking shape; the peacock would be eye-catching when it was complete. Only the beak and a few tail feathers remained to be finished. She shifted her position and started outlining the beak. "What do you think I should do?" "Seduce him." Sunni's hand jerked. A sound of annoyance escaped her as the unexpected movement left a smear of henna in the wrong place. The beak now had a definite dip in the center. Great, a peacock with a cleft palate would adorn her friend's back. Setting the tube on a small table, she grabbed a cotton swab to dab at the bobbled beak before the henna could stain Maeve's skin. "Alexandre doesn't strike me as a man who can be seduced." Her friend, Jennifer Beaumont, lay on her stomach on a padded massage table a few feet away. Henna marked her left shoulder in a pattern of the sun and moon. "He's a man, isn't he?" Maeve asked. "If he has the necessary equipment and is of the proper sexual persuasion, he can be seduced." "Oh, I'm sure he has the essential equipment. He's just very...formal. The perfect gentleman, you might say." Jennifer shook her head as she reached for her glass of wine. "I've known him for years and I've never seen him even look at a woman." "Maybe he's gay," Maeve offered. Sunni laughed. "He's not gay, just reserved." She leaned back to inspect her clean-up job. That looked much better, like a real beak. "Very reserved," Jennifer agreed.

"He's gay." Maeve reached for her glass of wine. "Quit moving." Sunni poked her in the shoulder with a finger. "He's not gay. Maybe he's shy?" "Uh huh, that's probably it, he's shy." Jennifer nodded. Maeve emitted a disbelieving snort. Sunni dropped the cotton swab into a trashcan and leaned over her friend's back once more. Picking up the tube, she continued the finishing touches on the beak and neck. "About thirty years ago there were rumors of him with a woman," Jennifer mused. "Who was it?" asked Maeve. "You won't believe this, but it was Cassiopeia." Sunni stifled a groan as she bobbled the beak once more. Annoyance streaked through her. Next time, no talking while working. "Really?" Maeve laughed. "I don't know Alexandre well at all, but that's an unlikely pairing, if you ask me." "Me, too. Mac mentioned once that it was short-lived and ended amicably. It broke off when she ascended to the Council. Knowing Alexandre, he decided it wasn't proper to have a sexual relationship with a fellow council member." Sunni gritted her teeth as jealousy burned under her skin. If Jennifer was correct and Alexandre had had an affair with the outlaw, this was yet another reason to hate the lovely Cass. "I still think Sunni needs to try seducing him," Maeve offered. "I've never actually tried to seduce a man." "That's the problem. You need to learn how, my dear." Jennifer reached for the wine bottle. "That's easier said than done." Sunni shrugged. "I've never been the seductress type." Maeve shook her head. "You're a woman. You can learn." "Well, I haven't managed it yet. I grew up in the early twentieth century. Women rarely voted, let alone seduced men." "When did you become a vampire?" Jennifer refilled her glass, then Maeve's. "Nineteen-thirty-eight, I was twenty-five." Maeve snorted. "A twenty-five-year-oldvirgin ?" "Times were different then."

"No kidding." Maeve's tone was wry. "What happened in the sixties? Didn't you learn how to handle men in the age of free love?" "Well, no. It was the age of free love but I wasn't very free with it." Sunni dropped the empty henna cone into the trash and reached for a fresh one. Clipping the tip with a small pair of scissors, she started detailing another feather. "It just never seemed...right, I guess. I wanted more than just emotionless couplings." Maeve whipped her head around, her face registering disbelief. "Are you saying you've never had sex?" "Damn it, Maeve." Sunni reached over and shoved her friend back into her previous position. "You keep moving around and your peacock will look like a molting chicken." She snatched another cotton swab to repair the damaged feather. "Are you?" pressed Jennifer. "I never said that." She dropped the swab in the trashcan and reached for another. "I'm not a virgin. How could I have stayed chaste for over sixty years?" "Not very easily," Maeve drawled. "Okay, Sun." Jennifer placed her glass on the table with the mehndi supplies. "What do you want to accomplish with this seduction?" Uncomfortable, Sunni shrugged. She could barely remember a time when she hadn't been in love with Alexandre. Since the day they'd met in 1947 when he'd rescued her from a gruesome death by sunshine, she'd been head over heels in love with him. She frowned. There was definitely something pathetic about being in love with the same man for so many years and never making a move. He barely knew she existed, and it was her own fault. She'd been too much of a coward to make a move. Until now. She discarded the swab and straightened. The time had come for her to muster her flagging courage and deal with him once and for all. She took a deep breath and spoke in a rush. "I either want a relationship with Alexandre or exorcise him from my life forever." "A relationship?" Maeve asked. "You want a relationship?" "What's wrong with that? You're in one now." Jennifer grinned. "Quinn has certainly tamed the angry woman that was once inside you, my dear." Maeve sighed, her tone dreamy. "And then some." "Back to Sunni's problem." Jennifer looked at her. "Knowing Alexandre, you'll need to be subtle." "I still think he's gay," Maeve grumbled. Jennifer ignored her. "You need to take him by storm. Seduce him, but make him think it's his idea. A

subtle yet ruthless assault on his senses." Sunni bit her lip as she contemplated the idea. Could she seduce Alexandre? Not in a million years... She shook her head. "It doesn't sound like something I can do." "If you want something bad enough," Jennifer said, "then you'll do anything to get it." "Try showing up naked. That seems to work for most men," Maeve said. "After that, getting him into bed will be the easy part." "I don't know how," Sunni wailed, narrowly managing to not stomp her foot. "I just told you guys that my education was stunted in this arena." "That's an understatement if ever I've heard one," Maeve said. "You're not helping," Jennifer ground out. Maeve rolled her eyes. "We need to come up with a plan." Jennifer's expression turned thoughtful. "Let's think about this. In a woman, what would appeal to a man like Alexandre? What would he value in a potential mate?" "Well, if he had a relationship with Cass, let's take a look at her. Other than poor judgment and the penchant for treachery, what positive qualities does she possess?" Maeve said. "She's beautiful." Sunni picked up the henna tube and reapplied herself to completing the peacock. "Very. But so are you." Jennifer eyed Sunni's short blonde locks. "You're as light as she is dark." "Cass is very beautiful. Polished." Maeve held out her hand and counted off as she spoke. "Intelligent." "So is our Sunni. Even though she tries to hide those long-haired books she reads." Jennifer nodded toward the slim volume of Rimbaud half-hidden under a hastily tossed towel. "I cannot imagine why you'd do that." Sunni ducked her head. As a child, her mother had pounded the idea into her head that men didn't like intelligent women. While she knew it wasn't true, such ingrained habits were hard to toss aside. "He strikes me as someone who appreciates subtlety in a woman," Maeve offered. Jennifer nodded in agreement. "That's pretty much the last thing I am." Sunni sat back to admire her handiwork. One more feather and it would be done. "We'll have to work on that," Jennifer said. "No,we don't have to work on anything." She drew the spine of the feather in a graceful dip, following

the gentle curve of Maeve's own spine. Under normal circumstances she loved nothing more than to lose herself in a mehndi design. The traditional Indian patterns were her favorites, but she enjoyed the free hand designs her clients often requested. Unfortunately, with her two friends in the shop and the recent downward spiral of their conversation, there was no way she could lose herself to the creation of her design this time. "I've got it." Jennifer sat up, swinging her slim legs off the side of the table. "What?" Maeve raised her head, forcing Sunni to shove her flat once more. "You need to make yourself indispensable. Alexandre values goals, logic and intelligence above everything else, even beauty. He's a man of science. That is the language he speaks." A quiver of excitement ignited in Sunni's stomach. This could very well be the answer to her dilemma. If she could make herself indispensable to Alexandre, maybe then he'd look at her as something other than a silly woman with more hair then sense. She knew she was intelligent; now she had to clue him in on the fact. She nodded. "You might be onto something-" Maeve shook her head. "I disagree. Sunni is definitely not a woman of science. She's more a child of nature. No offense, my dear, but you don't think before you speak and you never look before you leap." Stung, Sunni straightened. "That's not true." She tossed the cone into the trashcan. "I do think before I speak. I simply choose not to censor myself." "Which gives people the impression that you're a bit...flighty," Maeve replied. "You've just illustrated my point." "Yeah, well... some people don't know how to have fun." Sunni stepped away from the massage table, the peacock complete. "Now don't move. We have to let this dry before you can get up." Maeve raised her head. "How long do I have to lie here?" "At least three hours." "I have to go to the bathroom," she wailed. Sunni shot a pointed look at the wineglass and the almost-empty wine bottle. "You should have thought of that before you guzzled all the wine. Besides, that's what you get for calling me flighty." She grinned as Jennifer burst into laughter and Maeve's scowl deepened. Revenge was sweet, indeed.

The New Orleans night surrounded him like a humid blanket. Alexandre inhaled the thick air, scented with the sea and the crush of humanity on Bourbon Street. Brightly dressed crowds moved along the legendary street, imbibing Hurricanes and partaking of the eclectic mix of music, which poured from the nightclubs scattered along the avenue. Mardi Gras. There

was nothing like it in the world. Drunken revelers dancing in the streets, women flashing their breasts for strands of cheap beads. It was cheap, tacky and ill mannered. It was good to be home. He moved down the street, weaving between groups of bewildered tourists and drunken partygoers. Normally he'd find a place to watch, unobserved. Nothing intrigued him more than humanity, and he considered himself a scholar of such creatures. As a vampire hundreds of years old, he barely remembered how it felt to be mortal. Some memories stuck in his mind, such as the warmth of the sun on his skin, the sensation of eating food, the heady effects of a bottle of fine merlot. But now that's all they were-mere shadows of memory. By studying humanity, though, he maintained a tenuous grip on his sense of former self. However, tonight he had no time to linger. He stepped into the street to avoid a couple of drunken men as they staggered down the sidewalk. Stepping back onto the walk, he continued his journey, ignoring the brightly colored store windows and the raucous music. Barely clothed women danced in the windows of one nightclub, trying to entice men to come inside, and he barely spared them a glance. Raphael was waiting and Alexandre could only hope that the young vampire had the information he sought. In the past twenty-four hours, two disturbing deaths had occurred in the city. Both vampires, each younger than fifteen vampire years, had been found dead, their bodies charred beyond immediate recognition. So far, nothing had surfaced as to the cause of their deaths. Was it murder? Suicide? Something else? Alexandre suppressed his frustration at how little he knew of the situation. Younger, streetwise vampires were reluctant to give information to an elder such as himself, and it was this information that he needed in order to get to the bottom of the situation. Without Raphael, he knew he'd be going into the situation blind. The young vampire could gather information that few others could as he'd lived in New Orleans for all of his vampire life. He could certainly get information that Alexandre wasn't privy to. A peculiar sensation, not unlike that of a low-voltage current, rippled across his skin, bringing him to a halt. He raised his head and scanned the area with his vampire senses. The noise of Bourbon Street faded into the background as he concentrated. Another vampire was nearby. A hapless pedestrian plowed into him from behind and Alexandre didn't flinch. The man staggered around him, muttering under his breath in slurred tones as he continued down the street. Alexandre scanned the area to pinpoint the vampire's location, his gaze coming to rest on a brightly lit storefront across the street. Bold golden letters were scrawled across the front:

S S Designs Tattoo and Mehndi Artists

The vampire was within.

He stepped into the narrow, congested street and moved toward the store. Looking through the window, he scanned the room, his eyes narrowing as he found her. Sunni. He glanced at the window again and noted the smaller lettering,Sunni and Sasha, Owners and Resident Goddesses. He frowned and turned his attention to the occupants of the tiny room. Sunni wore yet another messy-looking skirt, this one in the palest of pink swirled with streaks of gray. A slim- fitting tank top in matching gray completed her ensemble. She sat on the edge of a massage table, swinging her bare feet as she spoke to a massive, tattooed man seated in what resembled a dentist's chair. Another woman stood beside him, working a tattoo centered on his right shoulder. Sunni's golden hair gleamed in the bright lighting and she gestured with her hands as she spoke, her expression animated, her eyes sparkling. Her nails were painted shell pink. Her fingers were bare of rings save one on her left index finger, the jewel a blood red. The oversized customer grinned and said something that caused Sunni to shout with laughter, her entire body vibrating in merriment. The sounds of her mirth reached his acute ears through the glass. He watched as she tipped her head back, exposing her soft throat to his gaze before bending double. One of the first things he'd ever noticed with Sunni was her propensity for laughter. She was almost always merry and laughing was a whole-body experience for her. He hadn't spent much time with her, but he'd lost count of the number of times when he'd see her bent double with glee. He watched as she sat upright, her eyes dancing. She licked her lips and his groin tightened. He wondered if she was that unrestrained in bed. Down, boy. Annoyed, he swung away from the window and continued down the street, his stride lengthening as he shouldered drunken revelers out of his way. What was it about her? Sunni wasn't anything he looked for in a woman. She was blonde; he liked dark hair. She was tiny; he preferred tall, statuesque women. She didn't seem to be terribly bright; he admired intelligence. She had the maddening habit of laughing at everything, even herself. To her, everything was amusing. It was rare that he'd ever seen her completely serious. And the most maddening of all, she was never quiet. Even her jewelry was noisy. Lately he'd been thinking about having another affair. It was long past time. It had been too many years since his ill-fated liaison with Cass. His mouth tightened. That had certainly turned out to be a huge mistake as she'd betrayed him in the worst possible way. She knew too much about him and had almost managed to bring about his downfall and that of the Council. Never again would he open his heart and, more importantly, his mind to another woman. Even if he did decide it was time to seek a female companion, she wouldn't be a vampire and it certainly wouldn't be Sunni, even if she were the last person on the planet. She owned half of atattoo parlor for heaven's sake. Not to mention the fact she was never dressed properly. To him, it appeared as if her

mantra were the less clothing the better. Not that he minded her attire from a male point of view. As a man he certainly appreciated a glimpse of her legs, the creamy flesh of her stomach, the shadowed hollow between her breasts. However, he wouldn't consider having a relationship with a woman who eschewed shoes as she obviously did. Then again, she was as sexy as any woman he'd ever met in his life. Every movement hinted at her raw sensuality. If she behaved in bed as she did when she laughed, with such unabashed delight, she'd be a force to be reckoned with. Images of her lithe body, nude in his arms, crowded his mind. A rush of lust caused him to falter and come to a complete stop. He blinked, looking around as if he'd awakened from a deep sleep. Where the devil was he? He turned around and stared dumbfounded at the street signs. Damn, he'd missed his turn by two blocks. Annoyed, he started back the way he'd come. He'd been so engrossed in thoughts about Sunni that Cass could have walked up behind him and taken his head without him even being aware of her presence. Resolutely, he shoved all thoughts of the annoying little blonde from his mind. She was nothing but trouble and he had enough of that as it was. Vampires were dying under mysterious circumstances and it was up to him to find out why before there were more victims. He reached the street where he needed to turn and immediately sensed another vampire in the vicinity. The pulse was weak like that of a very young preternatural. It had to be Raphael. Now was not the time to ponder a physical relationship with any woman, let aloneher . He had obligations.

Chapter 3 What the devil was he up to? Sunni ducked behind a group of young men as she saw Alexandre come to a stop in the middle of the sidewalk. He looked around as if confused. His expression turned annoyed as he turned around and stalked back where he'd walked mere moments before. Had he missed his destination? How very unlike him to not be paying attention. Dodging her inebriated cover, she moved down the street in an attempt to stay in front of him, unwilling to let him see her if she could help it. If he caught her, there'd be no end to his annoyance. She stepped into a recessed doorway, her gold bracelets making a soft musical chime as they connected. Clamping her hand over the offending jewelry, she peered around the corner to see where he was. Alexandre continued in her direction, his expression remote as he effortlessly moved through the throng.

This was no mean feat as thousands of people packed the narrow street. As he neared, she caught her breath and shrank against the door, hoping to evade detection. He stepped into her line of vision, or at least his sleeve did, as he stopped to look down the intersecting street, which ran a few scant feet from her hiding place. After a slight hesitation, he moved out of view and down the street to her left. Exhaling, Sunni stepped from the doorway. What was he doing on Bourbon Street? He usually stuck to the St. Charles Street crowd where the avenues were lined with elegant mansions and public drinking was frowned upon. Life on Bourbon Street was earthy, sometimes sinister, and a party was always in progress. The perfect place for her. She grinned as she ventured down the narrow street in Alexandre's wake, leaving behind the bright lights. Moving cautiously, she walked the center of the bricks, senses alert for danger and the location of the man she tailed. Although littered with trash from the latest parade and a few, privacy-seeking couples groping in doorways, she wound her way around the obstacles of the street, never losing sight of her prey. Her eyes narrowed as she sensed the pulse of another preternatural-a young vampire to be exact. Concentrating, she scanned the area. A hundred yards ahead, the street dead-ended in a weak pool of light from a florescent fixture. The bulb flickered as if about to give out. In the ghostly, shuddering glow stood a slender man. He appeared to be waiting for someone. As she moved closer, she caught sight of his face and immediately recognized him. Raphael. The young vampire slouched against the old brick wall, head down, posture showing he was unabashed by the appearance of the Head of the Council of Elders. Dressed in blue jeans and a tie-dyed Grateful Dead shirt, his blond hair was pulled back in a long, sleek ponytail. His features were sharp while his gaze darted from side to side, at odds with his careless posture. Being the social creature she was, Sunni had met Raphael on several occasions. He was relatively young, around thirty vampire years, and was known for his love of Jamaican music and laid-back manner. It was also well-known that when information was needed, he was the man who had it. His good ole boy demeanor fooled many; consequently, few hesitated to speak in front of him. Alexandre stepped into the weak light, nodding at Raphael. The young vampire spoke but she couldn't hear; she was too far away. Drat, she needed to get closer. Don't say anything fun without me, kids! Keeping her back to the wall, she scampered to her right. Her bracelets sang and she winced, again wrapping her fingers around them for silence. Ducking behind a dumpster, she dropped to a crouch and leaned forward, concentrating on what they were saying. "I've heard nothing about the deaths." Raphael's voice carried a distinct New Jersey accent. "No rumors, no nothing." Alexandre nodded. "Keep your ears open. Someone somewhere has to know what's going on."

Raphael glanced from side to side once more before pushing away from the wall. He leaned in toward Alexandre and spoke low, as if fearing he'd be overheard. "Word is that you're looking for someone." "I might be." "And I might have information for you about a vampire named Cassiopeia and a certain book in her possession." "And I might have recompense," Alexandre's tone was dry, "depending upon the timeliness, of course." "Oh," Raphael smiled. "You'll want to pay for this. The lady's been seen here but word is she's staying somewhere north of the city. She's traveling with an immortal and no one seems to know who he is. He's staying in the Quarter and he's been up to no good. I hear he's been procuring medical supplies-syringes, saline and heavy-duty narcotics. I've heard they're gearing up for something big and it involves you." "You haven't told me anything." Alexandre sounded bored. "I'd already received this information last night. The only important item you've conveyed is the immortal's extracurricular activities. That information does have a certain amount of value." "That's all I have for now." Raphael bobbed his head. "I'll get you more." Alexandre reached into his jacket and withdrew a large wad of bills. He peeled off several and handed them to his companion. Raphael glanced at the bills before returning his gaze to his benefactor. "Wait, I might have something else." Alexandre shifted, turning his back to Sunni, effectively blocking the other vampire from her line of sight. She squirmed. Darn it. Now she couldn't see their expressions. "Word is-" She was being watched. Her head came up as her attention shifted from the two men to the alley's Bourbon Street entrance. Against the backdrop of bright lights and revelers, she saw a large, hulking figure standing in the street. Her eyes narrowed as the newcomer slowly backed into the light and she recognized the immortal from the photos. She darted a glance at Alexandre, then back in time to see the revenant turn and walk out of sight. Now what? She looked back toward the two men, but they appeared oblivious to the immortal's presence, as they were still deep in conversation. If she drew their attention, Alexandre would know she'd been following him. She bit her lip. That she couldn't have; he'd never let her live it down. She slipped from her hiding place and ran toward Bourbon Street. She had to move quickly, as it wouldn't take long to lose him in the crowds.

The street abounded with a kaleidoscope of humanity in various forms of dress. She cursed the slow-moving crowd as she hurried along the sidewalk, catching only glimpses of the man she followed. A large crowd exited from a popular nightclub, stopping her in her tracks. Within seconds he was swallowed by the hordes. "Drat." A drunken man jostled her to the side. Looking around, she spied a signpost with a wide base. Grasping the pole, she stepped onto the base, gaining over a foot in height. Ignoring the hoots from a few inebriated observers, she scanned the crowd. Her gaze locked on the dark brown head of the revenant as he moved steadily through the crowds toward Esplanade. Gotcha! She jumped from her perch and took off, darting through the crowd before coming to a halt when a warm hand curled around her arm. She stumbled backward into a warm, very human chest. She turned her head to see an intoxicated college student dressed in a university T-shirt and smelling of liquor smiling down at her. "Hey baby, where ya goin' so fast? Why don'tcha stay and party with me and my friends here?" Sunni looked around at several others dressed in a similar fashion before dropping her gaze to look pointedly at his hand on her arm. "Is this how you pick up women?" She pulled away and turned to face him, crossing her arms over her chest. "Tell me, Stud, does this technique actuallywork ?" He let out a guffaw and held out his arms as if to give her a hug. "The women love me, babe. I'm a hell of a lover and I'll make you come lots of times." He grabbed his crotch and rubbed it suggestively as his friends shouted approval. She rolled her eyes. "That might work on a drunken cheerleader maybe." She turned away and made to slip through the crowd. "Now wait." He grabbed her by the shoulder and yanked her around to face him. Teeth bared, she spun. "Back off, asshole," she snarled. She took great satisfaction in watching his eyes grow wide as he caught sight of her pronounced canines. His plastic liquor- filled cup hit the sidewalk, splashing his jeans as he stumbled into his friends. Wetness spread across his crotch and she chuckled. Bet he wasn't so proud of his equipment now. "Dude, she needs a dentistbad ," one of his friends whispered. She shook her head and walked away, moving with ease around the mortals. Normally she loved the hubbub of Mardi Gras, but right now she'd settle for fewer drunken fools on the streets. Stepping into the relative quiet of a shop doorway, she climbed the step to get a better view of the area. After a quick scan, she realized her prey was nowhere to be seen.

Damn. She continued toward Esplanade, searching the faces of those she passed. Maybe she could catch him on a less crowded avenue. She'd barely taken five steps when a cool hand wrapped around her arm and almost yanked her off her feet. A squeak caught in her throat as another hand covered her mouth and someone hauled her into the darkness. Her breath rushed from her lungs as she was slammed into a brick wall, her head connecting with a sharp rap. She blinked and looked into the cool blue gaze of the immortal, once her prey, now her captor. With his massive body pressed into hers, he held her in place against the wall. "Hello, little vampire." A chill ran down her spine at the sight of his manufactured smile and flat, expressionless gaze. He was trying to frighten her with his mere presence and strength. Didn't he realize that vampires were far stronger than revenants and humans? There was nothing she hated more than a bully, and this man was definitely a bully. She leaned into him and, to her surprise, he didn't budge. Her eyes widened and she tried again. Nothing. He didn't so much as shift an inch. She was a small vampire and a relatively young one at that, but she'd never had problems dealing with mortals or immortals of any size. Until now. "Are you surprised that I'm as strong as you?" He removed his hand from her mouth, but his grip didn't loosen one bit. Evil radiated off this creature and she resisted the urge to cringe from his particular brand of darkness. "Just a bit," she admitted. "Why are you following me?" "Why are you following Alexandre?" "Ah," he nodded. "You're one ofthem ." He moved back a half step to allow her some space, his other hand remaining in place on her arm. "One of who?" "The mindless legion of females who are attracted to Alexandre and would do anything for him. It appears his quiet strength and handsome visage have attracted a following, not to mention the mantle of power he wears so precariously." That odd, humorless smile curved his mouth. "That fact alone brings women to him in droves." A spark of jealousy ignited at the thought of Alexandre with other women. "I'm not one ofthem, " she ground out. He chuckled. "Denial is a bad habit, my lovely."

"Why are you following him?" she asked again, ignoring his comment. "Why are you following me?" "Because you were followinghim ." "As you were also." Sunni remained silent. No way was she going to admit it even though it had been very apparent. It was one thing to be caught, something else to actually confess. He shrugged as if her lack of an answer told him what he already knew. "I don't care what you do. I'm telling you now, don't ever follow me again. The next time I catch you, I won't be as nice." She flinched as he drew a finger down her cheek, stopping at the corner of her mouth. The darkness that surrounded this man increased, threatening to swamp, drown her in its corruption. She shuddered. Young though she was, she'd encountered evil before. Human evil was familiar, but this was different. It was darker, deeper and more ancient. She'd never felt anything like it. "Give the Elder a message from me." His breath was hot against her cheek. "A plague has been cast among his people and with it comes a cry for order. A new leader shall rise and all will be as it should. Can you remember to tell him that, my dear?" Wordless, she nodded. Her flesh prickled as the sensation of evil crept under her skin, threatening to pervade her. She swallowed, trying to remain calm as her stomach churned. "Good." He placed his palm over her forehead and a strange energy invaded her body. Her muscles grew lax as her vision dimmed. She wanted to run but her muscles refused to respond to her mind's urgent demand. What was he doing? Gathering her flagging strength, she concentrated inward, curling it around her throat. Within her mind, she began to scream. Alexandre, help meShe barely felt her head slam into the wall as darkness fell.

Alexandre, help meHe jerked to a halt as the scream tore a blazing trail through his mind. What the devil? A myriad of people flowed around him on the sidewalk, few paying him a second glance as they went about their business. He lifted his head as if to scent the air. Faintly, he detected the presence of another vampire in the vicinity and it wasn't Raphael.

Sunni. Panic exploded in his system as he turned to pinpoint her position. There, just east of him. Shoving hapless pedestrians aside, he ran, his heart pounding in his ears. As he ran, he saw Miles coming out of an alley a block away. The revenant stepped onto the sidewalk and straightened his loose-fitting linen jacket. His gaze met Alexandre's and he gave a half-smile. With a slight nod, the immortal acknowledged his presence before turning away. The need to follow gnawed Alexandre as he reached the alley. Duty first. He had to ensure Sunni had come to no harm. The darkness in the alley was complete; no lights illuminated the narrow space. With his enhanced senses, he peered into the black, dismayed to see a human form lying in the gutter. He approached, his chest constricting as he recognized Sunni. She lay on her side, her hand out-flung as if seeking assistance in her unnatural slumber. He dropped to a crouch beside her, scanning for signs of obvious injury. Finding none, he reached for her shoulder and rolled her onto her back before picking her up to cradle her in his arms. Her head lolled back and he moved his arm to support it so he could see her face. She couldn't be dead or he'd never have been able to find her. He patted her on the cheek but she didn't stir. "Oh, Sunni." He dropped his head to press a light kiss on her forehead. Her citrus perfume swirled around his head and for a second he felt dizzy. "Wake up," he breathed against her skin. She moaned and he pulled back in time to see her eyelids flicker, then open. Her expression was unfocused, confused. She blinked several times, growing more alert with each movement. "Are you injured?" "What happened?" Her voice was raspy. "You tell me." She struggled upright, moaning as she turned her head. He helped her into a sitting position, bracing her back against his leg. She felt frail against his hand, her bones fine beneath her skin. He well knew the incredible strength of a vampire, even for one as young as she. In her case, however, her body size would always be a detriment to her physical safety. Even if she made it to the age of an Elder, she would be no match for a three-hundred-year-old, medium-sized male. She was simply too small. His lips firmed. She needed someone to look out for her or she'd fall prey to any preternatural who wanted to victimize her. The Shadow Dwellers were living in dangerous times. Silently he cursed Mikhail as he watched the latest victim gather her wits. "What happened?" She raised a hand to her forehead, a frown curving her mouth. "I was walking..." Her eyes widened and she dropped her hand. "It was him, the immortal-"

"I saw him leave. Are you okay to sit a few moments alone?" She nodded, her movement cautious, as if she were in pain. "I'll be back." He rose and ran out into Bourbon Street. He looked in the direction where Miles had headed. If anything, the crowds had increased in the past few minutes. He jogged down the street, jostling revelers in his wake as he engaged his vampire senses to scan for the revenant. The crush of people made it hard and, after several blocks, he slowed and admitted defeat. There were quite a few preternaturals in the crowd and it would be impossible to find Miles by senses alone. Defeated, Alexandre retraced his steps. What were Miles and Cass doing in New Orleans? If he were Cass, it would be the last place in the world he'd try to hide. They had to know that sooner or later he'd stumble across one of them. He'd lived here for many years now; he knew every nook and cranny of the city. Very little escaped his notice. He walked back to the alley and it took a second to register that Sunni no longer sat where he'd left her. "Sun?" "I'm here," she stepped out of the shadows. "Did you find him?" His eyes narrowed as he assessed her physical condition. A smudge of dirt across one cheekbone and another on her shirt was the only external evidence of her unexpected encounter. "No, he vanished in the crowds." Anger ignited in his gut. She was lucky; she could have been killed. Miles wouldn't have thought twice about separating her head from her lovely neck. Her movements were cautious as she wrapped her arms around her waist. "I'm sorry." "You should be." Fury vibrated his entire body and he struggled to control it. "Miles-" She brightened. "His name is Miles?" He ignored her. "He wouldn't have approached you without reason. He wouldn't have singled you out in a crowd. That isn't how he operates. What did you do to him?" She lifted her chin. "I was following him." "You were-" He bit off the flow of irate words. Shouting at her would accomplish nothing. He took several calming breaths before he spoke. "What did you think you were you doing?" He was pleased to hear he sounded calm. "Trying to help you." "Well, next time, don't. Miles is dangerous and unpredictable and he'd kill you without a second thought. With Mikhail as his master, he has powers you could only dream of." She raised her head and her smile was faint. "So I noticed."

"What did you think you could accomplish?" She cocked her head, her expression turning speculative. "I saw you standing outside my shop." Alexandre tensed, dismayed. He'd only stood there a few seconds. She'd given no indication that she'd been aware of his presence. "I thought maybe you wanted something," she said. "I saw your window and I was curious." She stepped forward, her expression light. "You were?" Inwardly he cursed. The last thing he needed was to encourage her. "I couldn't imagine a pair ofwomen owning a tattoo parlor. It seems so...common." He balked at the sound of his words. It made him seem like a snob. Her expression froze as the light died in her eyes. "Yes, well," her tone was cool, "it's like creating living art. Our work actually lives and breathes. It has life. So unlike you and I." He fought the urge to smile. "That's one way of looking at it." "That is exactly how we look at it." She frowned, holding out her hand as if to implore his understanding. "Alexandre, I was only trying to help-" He cut her off. "I don't need your help, Sunni. You need to realize that these are dangerous times and the world isn't the safe place it used to be. You're fragile and at the mercy of anyone who wishes to victimize you." He held his hand up as she bristled. "You need to lie low until some of this is resolved. That means no following anyone and no more 'helping' me. Do you understand?" "I can help you, though-" She stepped closer. "Sunni," he fought to contain his impatience but he'd reached the end of his rope. "Look, I didn't want to address this, but you've given me no choice. I know you think you're in love with me, but you're not. It's time to put this infatuation away. I'm not the man you think I am." With each word her back stiffened until he feared she might shatter. Her expression grew remote, her gaze cool. "He gave me a message for you." "What is it?" "He said a plague has been cast among your people and with it comes a cry for order. A new leader shall rise and all will be as it should be." A sinking feeling hit him in the stomach. It was starting all over again and, this time, more innocents would die. "Do you know what he meant?" she asked.

"Nothing you need worry about." Her lips tightened and she moved around him, her bearing stiff and starched. She was angry with him. Good. As long as she stayed away from him and the storm that was brewing in New Orleans, she would be safe. "I want you to stay out of this." She turned, her eyes impersonal as they raked him and he had the impression she found him lacking. For a split second he regretted his hasty words about her feelings toward him. Already he missed the warmth of her smile. "For future reference, my personal life and feelings are none of your business. I'll endeavor to steer clear of you from now on." She paused to catch her breath. "You're right, Alexandre, you're not the man I thought you were." With that she turned and slipped into the crowds, leaving him with the bitter aftertaste of something resembling regret.

I lied to him. Tears stung as Sunni settled into her bed in the fortified attic above the store. Her body ached from head to toe, but she knew the pain would be gone when she rose in the evening. The same couldn't be said for the pain in her heart. She had a feeling that would linger for years, not just hours. She gave a watery sigh as she curled onto her side, the silk and velvet of her bed comforting and familiar against her skin. If nothing else, he was right about one thing. She was in love with him. She'd been in love with him for years and she'd never loved anyone else. Never wanted to. She'd known shortly after meeting him that he was the man for her. He'd saved her from death and had held her in his arms until she'd awakened from her dark slumber. When she'd opened her eyes and seen his dark face over hers, she'd never seen such concern and desire, at least not when a man looked at her. The moment he'd realized she awakened, it was as if a mask had fallen and Alexandre had become remote. He'd chastised her about the dangers of straying too far from one's lair close to dawn. He'd then escorted her home and left her with a formal good-bye and the remembered strength of his embrace. She closed her eyes, the memory sustaining her still. Over the years she'd run into him any number of times. Some were engineered while others were strictly by accident. Each time he'd remained distant as if they'd never spent that long ago night in each other's arms. But that didn't deter her for she remembered it well enough for both of them. Then tonight had been almost like a replay from sixty years ago. He'd held her in his arms once more, only this time he'd kissed her. On the forehead, at least. But that made no difference, a kiss was a kiss. She lightly rubbed where his mouth had touched her skin as a shiver of delight rippled through her. Then he'd embarrassed and chastised her before tearing her heart out. She dropped her hand as tears threatened once more. Damn him.

Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he needed her help with Cass. While she hadn't proven it to him yet, she was a valuable partner when subterfuge was needed. She could be resourceful, useful. Now she had to convince him of that. A delicious thrill ran through her as she tugged she sheets higher, tucking them under her chin. He was wrong about something else. He was the man she thought he was no matter how much he denied it. He was kind, generous and heroic, if a bit formal, but this added to his magnetism. In some ways, it made her want him all the more. She saw through the façade he showed the world to the man within. Here was the man she'd fallen in love with, not the Council Elder that everyone else knew. Exhaustion claimed her as the rising sun tugged at her dark self. Sleep descended as quietly as a breath.

Chapter 4 This was getting old. Midnight passed as Alexandre walked along Bourbon Street, once more in pursuit of Raphael. Low gray clouds hung in the sky and a light, misty rain touched his face. Unlike last night, the streets harbored fewer people along the avenue. The persistent rain appeared to have dampened their Mardi Gras enthusiasm. Many of the shops were closed, but the nightclubs were bulging at the seams as revelers sought to evade the weather by taking their parties inside. Judging from the loud music and the roar of human voices, the night would be a financial success for those lucky entrepreneurs. He couldn't resist a glance at Sunni's store as he passed. He was half-relieved to see it lit by a single golden light and that the CLOSED sign hung prominently in the window. Even the little vampire and her partner took the night off. He continued his walk, mindless of the rain dampening his clothing. He had business to attend to and he only wished he could exorcise Sunni from his mind for once and for all. She distracted him from his duty. The energy of another vampire prickled his skin as he neared the rendezvous point. He ducked into the alley, his gaze fixing on the secluded doorway where Raphael waited. The vampire paced the confines of the space, sheltered from the rain by a rickety-looking balcony. His movements were quick and jerky as if he had too much energy to remain still. Curious. Raphael had never struck him as someone who was overly physical. In the past, he'd been laid back to the point that Alexandre wanted to shake him and make sure he was awake. He couldn't remember ever seeing him quite so animated before. "You have something for me?" Raphael jerked and spun around, his fangs bared, his expression panicked. When he recognized Alexandre, he relaxed and hid his fangs as a sheepish expression crossed his face. He is a bit jumpy this evening. Interesting.

"I have a message for you." Raphael sounded breathless. "Go on." Alexandre watched as the vampire danced from foot to foot. His hands shook with fine tremors and a light sheen of sweat tinged with blood had broken across his face. Sweating wasn't completely unheard of in a vampire, especially in the warmer, humid climates such as a rain forest or the bayous. Yet, in all his years, he'd never seen a vampire sweat like Raphael, especially not in February in Louisiana. "She wishes to meet with you." He leaned against the building, still for a few seconds before he pushed away from the wall to dance from side to side. "Cassiopeia asked that you meet her in Jackson Square two nights from now at one A.M." Something wasn't right. Raphael's energy was off, way off. Vampire energy resembled a low voltage current, cool and blue with very little fluctuation. Raphael's energy seemed to come in waves, as did his jittery motions. As his movements grew more erratic, the sensation became stronger, unpredictable. During the few moments when he'd stilled, it had dropped to a barely perceptible level. "Did she indicate why she wished to meet with me?" "No, she said nothing else." The vampire continued his odd jitterbug shuffle under the dubious sanctuary of the balcony. "Are you feeling well?" Raphael gave a wan smile. "I think I got some bad blood or something. I'm feeling a bit shaky." Alexandre nodded. That was far more common. With new diseases, drugs and addictions in humans, vampires were more susceptible to "illnesses" as it were. If a vampire fed from a drunk with a high alcohol content, the vampire would feel the same effects as the human. Of course, they didn't last nearly as long thanks to their amazing restorative powers. But that explained Raphael's inability to remain still. He'd obviously gotten hold of a human who'd done some sort of amphetamine or cocaine and now he was feeling the affects of the drug along with the rush that accompanied a normal feeding. "Thank you for the message. Now, go feed, this time on a clean human and try to get some rest. By tomorrow you'll feel like yourself." Alexandre handed him a small roll of bills as payment for his services. A look of relief crossed Raphael's face as he accepted the money. "Thanks. I'll keep my ears open for more news." His expression turned serious and his movements stilled. "Word is that something bad is about to go down. That's one of the reasons why many are leaving New Orleans." He shivered and rubbed his arms. "Even the energy of the city has changed. Can you feel it?" He shook his head. "Most of those who are left behind are too young to know better." "Yourself included?" He grinned. "I'm leaving shortly." He held up the wad of bills. "I just needed a bankroll to make good my escape." He pocketed the money and stepped out into the street. "Thanks to your generosity, I can leave in style. I'll gather my woman and be little more than a memory within twenty-four hours." "Where will you go?" "I'm thinking San Francisco maybe. I'm tired of the humidity. There are times when I fear I'll mildew."

Whistling an off-key tune, the vampire proceeded up the alley then turned left onto Bourbon Street and out of sight. Alexandre followed more slowly, his mind whirling with possibilities. So Cass wanted to see him, did she? Was it possible she wanted to surrender? No, not her. Cass wouldn't surrender unless her life was in danger. If anything, she would issue yet another challenge to his rule. That would be more her style. The rain increased to a steady downpour as he walked and he silently cursed. At this rate, he'd be drenched within minutes. He was so preoccupied lately. He couldn't remember the last time he'd neglected to bring an umbrella when the forecast called for rain. It was allher fault. No, he wasn't going to think abouther . Time would come soon enough that he'd have to deal with Sunni. Now was not the time. He raised his head, the rain pelting his upturned face. Shaking the hair out of his eyes, he found himself staring at the brightly lit sign for the Chat Noir-a favorite preternatural hang out. Normally he disdained such places, but at least it would be dry until the rain slowed and he could go home without drowning. Beneath the wrought iron balcony sheltering the entrance, a young male vampire manned the front door flanked by a small group of scantily clad young woman. As their gazes met, the younger simply nodded in acknowledgement and motioned for Alexandre to enter. The club was small and packed from wall to wall with both humans and preternaturals alike. The scent of alcohol, fried food and warm humans swirled about his head as he made his way though the crowd. The lighting was low and the music rich, hot jazz. Overhead, ceiling fans stirred the thick air as he approached the bar. "Fancy meeting you here." He looked over to spy a familiar face. Damien St. James was manning the bar. A vampire of almost seven hundred years, Sinjin, as he was called, was an old and well-respected acquaintance. The last time Alexandre had seen him was almost four months before when they'd laid the immortal's one-time love and Alexandre's co-council, Bliss, to rest in the highlands of Scotland. Her death had been yet another in a long line of senseless killings by one of Mikhail's followers. Their gazes met and Sinjin's expression turned solemn in remembrance of their last meeting. Reaching behind the bar, he retrieved a white towel, which he tossed at Alexandre. "Yer dripping on my floor." He indicated an empty bar stool. "Come join me." Alexandre glanced at the damp floor and grinned. "So I am." He seated himself and toweled the excess moisture from his hair and clothes. "What are you doing here?" "Working. I bought this place a few months back. I came in for a visit and, basically, never left." "You didn't let me know you were in town." He handed the damp towel back to his friend.

"You've been busy." Sinjin tossed the cloth into a small bin before picking up a clean one. "I heard from Val a few days ago and he said he's come up with nothing. He lost her trail." "I called him last night to formally ask him to take an open council position. Lucky for us, he's accepted." Sinjin nodded. "Tis good news." "As for Miles and Cass, they've surfaced here." "In N'awlins?" Alexandre nodded. "Cass sent word that she wants to meet me tomorrow." "Do you think that's safe?" "Safe enough. She wouldn't attempt to kill me without an audience. Knowing her as I do, she'd want the world to witness the day she and Mikhail best the Council, me in particular." Sinjin picked up a glass and polished it. "Do you think they're still working together?" "I've heard nothing to the contrary." "Now that he's wounded, Mikhail's more dangerous than e'er." He set down the glass and selected another. "Let me know if you need backup, I'd be happy to go with ye." Alexandre met his friend's gaze. "Thanks, but I think you have enough on your plate as it is." Sinjin's expression froze, then turned inward, almost lost. His hands stilled. "I canna help it, I miss her more every day." "I do too." "We were apart for many years before her death. I'd learned to live without her, but now, I feel like I've lost part of my soul." They were silent for a moment, two men sharing the loss of a loved and a well-respected colleague. Bliss' murder had been a devastating blow to the preternatural community as a whole. She'd been a vital link between the preternaturals and the witches, a group that adamantly refused to join the Council. She'd been a rare voice of reason during a time of upheaval, and all who'd been lucky to know and love her felt her absence keenly. Alexandre cleared his throat. "How did you end up owning a bar?" "In December I came to New Orleans to lose myself and, instead, found a business." A grin broke across Sinjin's face and he set the glass down. "I love it, just love it." "Will you return to Scotland?" He shook his head. "I canna lie, I do miss the Highlands. They're in my heart and soul, they're the blood in my veins, but I won't return, not for a long time. Lily stepped in as historian and she's taken over the records." He grinned. "She's even talked of computerizing them." His smile faded. "For now, I only have

to live from day to day. As she told me before I left, the only responsibility I have is to breathe, everything else is incidental." "Sounds like good advice." Sinjin's gaze turned sharp as a stunning brunette swayed up to the bar. Barely contained in a miniscule burgundy dress, she gave Alexandre a sleepy smile before she leaned into the polished wood, her breasts threatening to spill from her straining bodice. Her gaze latched onto Sinjin and she licked her lips as she set her glass down. "Shug, can I have another?" Her accent was pure southern honey and her body, judging from the luscious curves outlined by her skimpy dress, would be illegal in a few states. She climbed onto the barstool next to Alexandre, allowing one leg to dangle off the edge. Her skirt rode high, showing off her perfectly shaped thighs. "My pleasure." Sinjin refilled her glass with a yellow liquid and several shots of amaretto before setting it on the bar before her. "Well, it certainly could be." Her voice dropped. "Your pleasure, that is." A slow smile touched Sinjin's mouth as she leaned forward to retrieve her drink, a totally unnecessary movement as the glass was mere inches away. Their gazes locked as she took a tiny sip of her drink. She gave a delicate shudder then set it down; a soft pout curved her mouth. "It isn't very sweet," she breathed. "Can you make it...sweeter?" Alexandre fought the urge to snort with laughter. Human women were so obvious. Sinjin leaned forward, his mouth mere inches from hers, his eyes heavy. "I think I can do that." "I was hoping you could." She pressed closer, missing his mouth by centimeters as he picked up the glass and turned away to fix her drink. She sighed and leaned back. Her dark eyes fixed on Sinjin's back as she licked her lips once more. Alexandre could smell her arousal, the scent musky on her skin. For a split second he found himself thinking about another woman, a petite blonde who preferred the scent of citrus and loose, flowing clothing. "Try this one." Sinjin returned with the glass. "I think you'll like this much better." "Oh, I'm sure I will." She leaned over the bar and this time her destination wasn't the drink. Red-tipped fingers curled around the placket of Sinjin's shirt and she pulled him toward her. "Hey now." He juggled the drink, setting it down and spilling a few drops on the gleaming oak. The woman fastened her lips on his and kissed him for all she was worth. Mouth open, she ate at him as if she were starving. For his part, Sinjin didn't look too abashed as he returned as good as he got. From a table behind them came shouts of delight from the ladies gathered around it.

"You GO, girl, show him how it's done." "Eat him alive, Moni." "He's sogorgeous ." "I'm next." "Warm him up for me, darlin'." Alexandre had always found public displays of affection unnerving, which was a contradiction since he lived in New Orleans, a city known for its vices. This wasn't to say that he didn't indulge from time to time, just not in a public arena. He turned away from Sinjin and his new friend to scan the interior of the club. The area nearest the bar was occupied with small tables filled with people clustered around them. Candles flickered in small colorful votives as cocktail glasses vied for space. Several barmaids navigated the crowded room with ease as they delivered drinks and emptied ashtrays. At the far end of the room was the stage upon which a light-skinned black woman was belting out the classic song, "Summertime," throwing her body and soul into the piece. In front of her was a large dance floor filled with people grinding to the sensual heat of the ballad. Surrounding the dance floor was a large number of small tables like the ones near the bar. Moni bumped into Alexandre, her gaze still locked with Sinjin's as she slid from the stool. Her lips were ripe from their heated kiss as she retrieved her drink, her eyes throwing promises she hoped Sinjin would accept. A saucy smile curved her mouth as she turned to sashay back to her table. "It's a tough job." Alexandre turned to his friend. "Think you can handle it?" "Why, are ye volunteering to give me a hand?" Alexandre shot a glance at the woman, his gaze lingering on her well-rounded backside. "Tempting." He looked back at Sinjin. "But I don't think so." "She grabbed me, not the other way around." "I didn't see you trying to fight her off." "Man's gotta do what a man's gotta do." Sinjin shrugged and picked up the towel. "You're right about that." "Can I get ye a dram? You're looking a bit peaked." "You have something?" "Of course. This is a hot spot among preternaturals and I have something for everyone's palate, even the most discerning." Sinjin grinned. "And I have something I think ye could use right now." He tossed the towel on the bar before turning away. Withdrawing a small silver key from his pocket, he

unlocked a small cabinet to reveal a black thermal carafe sitting on a coffee warmer. He withdrew the carafe as he picked up a small black glass the size of an espresso cup, minus the handle. He poured a small amount of liquid into the glass before carefully locking the carafe back in its niche. Turning, he set the glass in front of Alexandre. "What is it?" "Something ye need, my friend." With that he moved down the bar to refill another patron's drink. Alexandre picked up the glass and took a tentative sniff. It was blood, the warmth of the liquid radiating through the china to caress his hand. He sniffed again; it lacked the hot tang of fresh blood. He peered into the glass. This blood was darker, almost aged like that of a shapeshifter...werewolf to be exact. He sat back, stunned. Where had Sinjin procured wereblood? Most wolves eschewed allowing themselves to be used as dinner for a vampire. In the last two hundred years, they'd become so standoffish that they were rarely seen in the company of another preternatural, certainly not a vampire. He inhaled once more, this time detecting another, fainter scent, like that of a flower he couldn't quite put his finger on. He closed his eyes as his senses sprang into full alert. If he were human, his mouth would be watering. It had been hundreds of years since he'd last tasted the coveted blood of a werewolf. As the singer swung into a rousing rendition of "Mack The Knife," he opened his eyes and took a tentative sip. The taste rolled across his tongue, not unlike the bite of fine whiskey. He swallowed, resisting the urge to cough. It was warm, spicy, almost sensual in flavor and he wanted more. As he took another sip, the rush that accompanied a feeding raced through his body, his senses sharpening as his flesh warmed. Even without looking, he knew he was losing the pale cast to his skin as the blood worked its dark magic. He closed his eyes, savoring the sensation of embracing his darker self. The transformation was unlike any other feeling on earth, not terribly unlike the physical release of sex. Then again, food and sex were akin to one another in the human psyche. Humans couldn't survive without a balance of both. Neither could vampires. Not for long anyway. Except for him. His background had taught him to live without physical intimacy and he'd done quite easily for many, many years. Being well versed in the treachery of the gentler sex, he had no intentions of ever going there again. He smothered a mirthless laugh as he took another sip of blood. This one went down smooth, seducing him with its warmth. He opened his eyes and stared into the glass of dark liquid. Oh, there'd been women in his life, quite a few actually. Most of them had been nameless, faceless creatures who erased the edge when he'd been most vulnerable to their charms. But it was during this time that he'd made one of his gravest mistakes and lives had been lost. Thanks to his weakness for the sins of the flesh and the treachery of a woman. There'd been other women after her, but not for many years. His affairs were emotionless relationships that were physical only. Of course, his women had to have the necessary intellectual element. A woman must be a good conversationalist in order to interest him at all.

Then there'd been Cass. He took another drink, enjoying the now-familiar rush that swept through him as the liquid did its work. Cass had been an excellent conversationalist and she'd had the type of mind he admired. Intelligent, quick and emotionless. Then she'd shown him her other side, the side of her that had attempted to overthrow the Council. Hell, if she'd wanted the head position, why hadn't she asked? Who knows? He might have given it to her without a fight. No you wouldn't. He snorted. The music changed to a soulful rendition of "Unforgettable." He shut his eyes, losing himself in the lusty tone of the singer and the distinctly sensual feel of the blood pumping through his veins. Immersing himself in the notes, the noise of the mortals around him faded to a faint roar as he drifted with the music. "Care for another?" His eyes flew open to find Sinjin smiling at him with a knowing look. "I think-" He glanced down into the glass, surprised to see it empty.How had that happened? "Coming right up." Sinjin whisked the glass away from and returned within moments with the refill. "Thanks." "I think ye might want to turn around and watch the stage for this next number." Sinjin nodded toward the far end of the room. "I have a feeling this might interest ye." Alexandre turned his chair as the singer removed the microphone from the stand. "I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine who's going to sing a very special song for us this evening. Let's give a warm hand to my dear friend, Sunni." The audience applauded and took to their seats as the pianist swung into the beginning notes of "Peel Me A Grape." His stomach dropped as she stepped into the spotlight, a shy smile on her face. Her pale pink top skimmed her slender curves and left her shoulders bare. This time, the long skirt was gone, replaced with a short black number that showed far too much leg. His gaze skimmed her well- toned limbs. Who would have thought such a small woman would have such spectacular legs? She threw herself into the song, her movements sensual, her voice throaty and full of promise. Moving from the stage, she wound her way through the tables as she seduced her enthralled audience with her voice, a beguiling mix of innocence and sauciness. They sat spellbound as she walked from one to another, stopping for a few moments to play with a select individual, making them want her as she sang. More than one man reached before she flitted away, off to make the next man crazy with her soft smile and sultry lyrics.

Damn, is this woman trying to drive me crazy? Arousal rose hot and thick as he watched her weave a spell over the audience. Even the women were enthralled. He cleared his throat. She was lovely and, in that moment, he wanted her as he'd never wanted another woman in his life. He shifted, trying to relieve an ache of unfulfilled lust as his sudden arousal strained against his zipper. Damn, what's wrong with me? He picked up the glass and downed the rest of its contents, watching Sunni as she continued weaving her sensual tapestry. He set the glass down and slid off the stool as she seated herself in an eager young man's lap. The man's arms came to rest around her waist as she sang, her fingers running through his blond hair, standing it on end. A surge of jealousy rushed through Alexandre, leaving him seeing red, literally. "Whoa there." Someone grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks. Alexandre glared at Sinjin, who grinned at him. He gave the bartender a pointed look in the eye before dropping his gaze to his restraining grip. "Do ye mind?" he said. "Don't think you should until she's done." "Do you see what she's doing?" "I've seen her do it a hundred times. She's verra talented, isn't she?" "She does this a lot?" "All the time. The customers love her." Alexandre looked in time to see Sunni press a kiss to the man's forehead as she rose from his lap. "We'll see about that."

Chapter 5 The applause was thunderous as she performed a low curtsey, which Sunni had practiced for hours at home to ensure she didn't land on the stage in an undignified heap. Cheeks flushed with pleasure, she rose and tossed the microphone to the returning singer. Helene gave her a thumbs-up. "You need to do this more often," she shouted over the din.

"I think I will." She jumped off the stage and turned to wave her thanks to the band. Framed in soft blue lights, they broke into a sexy rendition of "At Last" with Helene at the helm. Tipping her head back, Sunni gave in to the joy in her heart as a laugh broke from her mouth. She loved performing before an appreciative crowd. All her life, she'd loved to sing. Only in the past few months had she dared to brave the spotlights at the Chat Noir. She didn't have the opportunity to perform very often, but when she did, she embraced every minute of it. She turned to exit the dance floor and bumped into someone, effectively stopping her in her tracks. Tipping her head back, she met Alexandre's dark gaze and noted at once that he didn't look happy. Her heart gave a queer little jerk. Remembering their last conversation, she wasn't terribly happy to see him either. "Excuse me." She made to move around him. He stopped her by grabbing her wrist. "No." She gave an experimental tug, but his grip was unyielding. "Let go of me." "You're coming with me." "Excuse me?" "You heard me." She tugged harder this time, but he refused to release her. Instead, he hauled her toward the edge of the dance floor, people jostling them with every step. What the hell does he think he's doing? He pulled her off to the side and they wound their way through tables to a darkened corner. He stopped when he saw that a couple already occupied the secluded spot he'd been aiming for. She heard him mutter something under his breath. "Do you know where you're going?" she asked sweetly. "No." "I can tell." She caught sight of an uncharacteristic scowl as he turned and pulled her in the direction of the bathrooms. The doorway was discretely hidden behind a row of potted palms around which was clustered a small group of women. As soon as he spied the obvious line for the ladies room, Alexandre headed for the men's room. Sunni balked as he shoved the door open. "Oh no, I'm not going in there." She braced her feet and tried to free her arm. He gave a not-so-gentle tug, propelling her through the doorway. "Yes, you are." He stepped to the side

as she swung past, then slammed the door before releasing her. "Hey!" She spun around and put her hands on her hips. "What do you think you're doing?" "Funny, I was going to ask you the same question." He crossed his arms over his chest. "What are you talking about?" "Out there." He jerked his head to indicate the main room. "What did you think you were doing out there?" "Singing?" "Is that what you call it when you parade around like some harlot?" The volume of his voice increased with each word. "Sitting in a stranger's lap is not singing. It's flirting. No, it's worse than that. It's...It's...immoral." "W-w-what? And who do you think you are to question what I do? Who gave you the right to judge me?" "I'm the head of the Council and I have every right-" "You're demented." "I'm what?" "The Council has no right to govern our day-to-day lives." She approached him. "Besides, you've said it before, you're the head of nothing right now. The Council now consists of you and Fayne, and you two can't enforce anything at this point." "Val has joined the Council." She blinked then scowled. "Quit changing the subject." She jabbed him in the chest with her finger as she spoke. "You certainly can't tell me what to do, especially not about my personal life." She moved to step around him when he thwarted her by leaning against the door, blocking her way. "We're not done." "I have nothing more to say to you-" She squeaked as he grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her into his arms. A shiver ran down her spine as her breasts were crushed against his chest. The warmth of his skin invaded hers; the scent of warm male and rain inundated her senses. "Who said anything about talking?" he muttered as his head dipped close. Oh, no... he's going to kiss me! "You don't want to do this," she hissed, his mouth mere centimeters from hers.

"Like hell I don't." His lips brushed hers and a shock of desire ripped through her body. Her fingers curled in his damp shirt, her gaze locked on his mouth. "You have no right," she whispered. His breath mingled with hers and a strange lightheadedness swept over her. "You haven't asked my permission." "I have every right. I'm the man who's about to become your lover." She blinked. "What did you just say?" "You heard me." Well, I'll be damned... Anger ignited in her chest, and she ground her teeth. He was a damned fool if he thought she'd fall into his arms after the way he'd treated her. She shoved against his chest. "You're out of your mind. What have you been drinking?" His grip tightened. "Nothing out of the ordinary." "What if I don't want to take you as my lover?" she snapped. "What if I don't care what you want?" "You'd force me?" she gaped at him. Something was definitely not right here. "What has gotten into you?" "Maybe I'm turning over a new leaf?" His head dipped. She shoved at him again. "What if I don't give a damn about your new leaf?" "I-" Her words were swallowed as he swooped, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was sensual and possessive at the same time. She inhaled the scent that was uniquely Alexandre, spicy yet subtle, as he lavished attention on her mouth. A whimper escaped her throat as, without warning, the kiss turned soft and he coaxed her to open to him. This was the Alexandre she'd dreamed of... Her lips parted and she leaned into him. Her bracelets sang as she looped her hands around the back of his neck, reaching up on her toes, aligning her body with his. Reveling in the feel of him, she opened her mouth wider, her tongue tangling with his as she leaned into his warmth and strength. A feeling of heat spread through her body as the hard length of his erection pressed against her stomach. He broke the kiss, raising his head ever so slightly. Dimly she noted his pupils were enlarged, his breathing harsh. He loosened his grip on her shoulders, sliding his hands to her elbows then up again. Shivers ran over her skin. Who would've thought arms could be an erogenous zone?

"Is that a crucifix in your pocket or are you happy to see me?" she whispered. To her surprise, he chuckled. "You're too much." His expression turned serious as he ran his finger down the curve of her cheek. "You're so beautiful," he breathed. Her breath caught as he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her. She twined her legs around his as he moved in for another kiss. She marveled at how perfectly they fit; the hard ridge of his desire pressed insistently against the apex of her thighs. The taste of him rolled across her tongue as she opened for him. She tangled her fingers in his hair as they ate at each other's mouths. Each touch more exquisite than the one before it. With nimble fingers she tugged at the buttons on his shirt, eager to stroke exposed skin. He groaned when she found his nipple. She brushed her nails over his hardened nub and he lunged against her mouth as his groans turned into the frantic sounds of hunger. His grip tightened then he turned, bracing her back against the door. She twisted her legs around his waist as he pressed into her. A few scant layers of clothing separated them, his erection hot between her thighs. Tension built as she ground against him, desperate to relieve the ache he was building. Strong fingers stroked the inside of her thigh before pushing her skirt out of the way. She broke the kiss as she felt the sinuous slide of his fingers against her dampened silk thong. "Christ, woman, what are you wearing?" he growled. Sunni laughed softly. "As little as possible." "Amen." She laughed again before pulling his head down for another kiss. Strong fingers breached the cloth and slipped into her dampened core, eliciting a strangled gasp as his thumb brushed her sheltered bundle of nerves. She flexed her thighs, performing a slow up and down motion against him. Each sensual stroke increased the tension in her legs, urgency riding low in her belly. She broke the kiss and closed her eyes, concentrating on the maelstrom he created with his masterful strokes. Within seconds she peaked, golden lights sparking against her eyelids as she squelched her cries with the back of her hand. Trembling, she let her head drop to his shoulder, her breath raging in her lungs. Dimly, on the edge of her consciousness, she heard an ominous creaking. She raised her head. "Did you hear that?" Alexandre sucked her earlobe, causing her eyes to roll back in her head. "Hear what?" He thrust against her. "T-t-that crack," she panted. He released her lobe to nip at her throat. "No." He pressed again, eliciting a sigh from her. No doubt about it, she thought as she arched her back for better friction, he had The Moves. She tightened her grip on his waist as he increased his short, rhythmic movements. Desire spiraled higher, the peak beckoned.

Another crack rent the air, this one much louder than the last, and Sunni's world tilted. One moment, she was secure in his arms, her back against the door, the next they were falling. With a thud, she landed hard on her back, Alexandre on top of her. She blinked as her eyes focused on the people crowding around them, some concerned, some snickering over their indelicate position. Alexandre was the first to recover, scrambling to his feet, careful not to expose her any more than necessary. He took her hand and pulled her upright then released her instantly. She wobbled for a second, taking in the destruction they'd caused. The men's room door now lay in the hallway, the wood fractured by their combined weights pressing against it. The old bolts, unable to withstand the abuse, had given way. She squelched the urge to giggle. "Do you think Sinjin will be mad?" She raised her gaze to meet Alexandre's. Uh oh... Gone was the passionate lover of moments before and, in his place, was the stoic Council head. With a cool gaze, he looked at her from head to toe. "Are you hurt?" She shook her head, her heart sinking. "I'll make reparations with Sinjin for the door so don't worry about it." He straightened the mangled collar of his shirt. "If you're uninjured, then I will bid you good evening." With that, he turned and left, shouldering aside the crowd as if they weren't there. She glanced at the broken doorframe, now missing its door, and bit her lip. Drat...

Chapter 6 She is dangerous. Alexandre tossed his Mont Blanc pen on the desk in frustration. Leaning back, he rubbed a hand over his weary eyes. Staying away from Sunni would be for the best. His misplaced fascination with her would only lead to ruin. He scowled at the thought of the broken door and the very public end to their lovemaking at the Chat Noir. Never in his life had he been so embarrassed. How many times had he observed the destructive power of women? Yet how many times had he risked

everything and indulged in the sins of the flesh? He had nothing against sex, now at least, but the loss of control concerned him. He wasn't in a position to allow himself to be distracted by a woman. He couldn't afford to revisit a past mistake. He loved New Orleans, but maybe the best thing would be to leave after he'd dealt with Cass. Maybe a change of scenery would do him some good. A few years in Europe was what he needed. I need her. His let his head drop against the chair and he groaned in frustration. He wanted Sunni more than he'd ever wanted any woman in his life. What was it about her? She was everything he avoided. She wasn't a great conversationalistYou've never talked to her for any period of time. She was tinyAnd built like a dream. She was mouthyOh, what a mouth. A rush of lust raced through his body, so powerful that he wanted to curl up and embrace it. He snorted in disgust. He was behaving like an untutored schoolboy and it had to stop. Now. He stood so fast that, for a split second, he was dizzy. Maybe a swim was what he needed to clear his head? He headed toward the door but the phone rang. He grabbed the offending instrument and, before he could bark a greeting, the caller spoke. "We have problems." "Sinjin?" "Yes. I need ye to come down to the Square. There's something ye'll need to deal with." Alexandre's gut clenched. The urgency in Sinjin's voice was unmistakable. "I'll be right there."

Sunni watched the man as he stalked his next victim. Through narrowed eyes, she spied him slipping Rohypnol into his date's drink. Fast-acting, the woman would be unconscious within minutes of ingesting it. At that point, she'd be completely at this creep's mercy. This one, he was smooth, in control. He'd done this before. Very few things in life raised her fury like rapists and pedophiles. Since becoming a vampire, Sunni had refused to feed on the innocents of the world. She scanned the smoke-filled bar from her secluded corner table, automatically skipping what she deemed were normal people out for a good time. Her attention centered on those she had learned to stalk and feed from with ease, with relish. The rapists. The pedophiles. The creeps of the world. Rarely did she kill them. Maybe it was the Pollyanna idealism within her, but she truly believed most

people could be redeemed. No one was without at least one saving grace and past errors of judgment could be dealt with and healed. The future was limitless. She rose from her shadowed seat, leaving her unwanted drink untouched. She walked across the bar, acutely conscious of the gazes that followed her. Levering into the empty seat beside her victim, her knuckles deliberately brushed his glass, toppling it and spreading it's contaminated contents across the bar. "Hey!" The man shot her a disgusted look. Sunni turned on the charm and gave her next meal an award-winning smile. "Hi." His expression turned from annoyance to interest. "Hi yourself." As if he were undressing her, his gaze scraped her body. "What's a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?" She fought to keep from rolling her eyes. Did he really think he was original with that line? She drew a fingertip across her exposed collarbone. "Looking for some fun." He smiled and it wasn't pleasant. "Oh really." He reached out and ran his finger down her arm, narrowly missing her breast. He frowned. "Are you cold?" Her skin was cool due to her not feeding for more than twenty-four hours. Sunni kept her expression innocent and she nodded. "You don't think it's cold in here?" He shrugged, obviously not interested in the temperature of the room. He leaned in closer, his breath hot and smelling of Jack Daniels. "Actually, I'm getting hot." "Oh really? I'll bet you're reallyhot blooded." "Hot as you'll ever see, baby." She smiled and injected a sensual note into her voice. "I've been watching you." He chuckled. "Oh yeah? Like what you see?' Creep. "Oh yes." She slid off the barstool, allowing her skirt to ride up, exposing a good portion of her thighs. "You're exactly what I've been looking for this evening." "And that would be?" She could smell his arousal. Desire radiated in waves off his skin like cheap aftershave, thick and cloying. She fought the urge to step away from the miasma. "A real man." She reached, her hands brushing the front of his shirt. Following the line of buttons to the open neck, she let her fingertips stroke the warm skin where she'd soon feed. He shivered beneath her feather-light touch. "I'm your man." His voice was shaky, strained.

She dropped her gaze to his engorged lap. Oh yeah, he was ready all right. "Let's go then." Sunni turned to lead him out the door. She didn't look back to see if he followed. She knew he would as she heard him breathing. She could feel the heat of his skin as she walked out the side door and into the New Orleans night. This was a seedier section of the city, the dangerous sector where tourists were warned to stay away except in the light of day. Even then they could be taking their lives into their own hands and frequently did. The Drunken Sailor was a familiar haunt and she knew exactly where to take him. Turning left, she walked down the center of the alley, her victim close behind. Few people frequented this part of town unless it was for nefarious means and those who did faded into the background as they neared. Sunni noted the presence of a few other preternaturals in the area as she led the man to one of her favorite spots. She noted with some relief that the other vampires were polite and moved away from her. Feeding was intensely private to some, herself included, and she preferred no witnesses. "Where are we going, babe? Your place?" Shadowed by the darkness, she gave in to her desire to roll her eyes. Did he really think thatbabe was a preferred method of addressing a woman? Did this work for him? "Oh no, we aren't going to my place." She placed her hand on his chest and shoved him into a darkened doorway tucked into the intersection of two alleys. From her vantage point, she could see down both streets. No one could sneak up on her from this spot. Her victim chuckled. "What's the matter, babe, can't wait to get your hands on me?" He reached for her, wrapping his hands around her arms, pulling her against him. Sunni brushed aside his collar, avoiding his mouth as he tried to kiss her. Her lips touched his skin, zeroing in on the spot where his pulse beat. He jerked as her teeth broke his skin and a hot rush of blood filled her mouth. His throat vibrated beneath her mouth as his hands convulsed on her arms before falling away to hang limp at his sides. Her eyes closed as she fed, remembering from her days as a human what it was like to be fed upon. It was warm and sensual, not painful at all. At this point, endorphins had flooded his system before changing to ribbons of ecstasy running under his skin, growing stronger as she fed, like the sensation of impending orgasm. The tightening of heightened nerves, the concentration on one small-sensitized point on the body. But she didn't want him to enjoy it. She wanted him to be afraid. She wanted to teach him the price of preying upon innocent, trusting women. She wanted him to be victimized just like the woman he'd selected from the bar, the one she'd saved. Summoning her vampire ability, she invaded his mind with images guaranteed to haunt him the rest of his life. Images of his body being violated as he'd violated his victims. His body, broken and bleeding, his soul ravaged. Soft whimpers of fear sounded as she drained him of the ability to fight back.

He was debilitated when she finished. His body sagged against the door. She released him and he slid into a heap on the ground. His gaze was locked with hers, horror etched in their murky depths. He was forever changed. Sunni dropped into a crouch, her face near his, ensuring that he saw her clearly before his eyes closed and he was overtaken by the need to sleep. Feeding from a human always required a nap for them afterward, while the same left her invigorated. "Now you know what it is to be helpless, to be victimized by a creep such as yourself," she hissed. His eyes drooped and she shook him, forcing his eyes open. "Hear me well, mortal. Never again will you be able to see a woman as a potential victim and not relive this moment. This is the point in time in which you realize the error of your ways. If you try to take another victim, I will come for you and, next time, I guarantee you won't survive it. I'll personally escort you to hell." A watery gurgle sounded as his eyes slid shut, unconscious now. Sunni pushed him into the far corner of the doorway before she rose. He'd served his purpose and she'd rid New Orleans of yet another creep. From here on out, this man would be a cowering, law-abiding citizen. He'd still have the desire to rape. In fact, he'd probably dream about it for the rest of his life. But she'd seen to it that he'd never again carry out his evil plans. She smiled as she stepped into the alley. Putting all thoughts of her victim behind her, she wondered where Alexandre was and how she could torment him next.

"This one isn't as bad as the last one." Sinjin's tone was subdued. Alexandre crouched by the dead vampire, not quite believing what he saw. In all of his years, he'd seen several vampires who'd died by sunlight, but never in the middle of the night. It simply wasn't scientifically possible. The unfortunate soul lay in the middle of the floor in an old warehouse, his body burned to a crisp. Near his shriveled hand lay a perfect white rose, the petals unharmed and still damp with dew. The scent of scorched flesh hung thick in the air, mingling with the sound of unrestrained weeping from the female vampire who'd found him. "Who was he?" Alexandre asked. "Philippe DesJardins, a vampire of twenty-some years." Sinjin pointed to the woman. "She said that they were due to meet and go for their evening hunt. When he didn't appear, she came looking and found this." "Did she say anything else?" "Only that he'd been acting strangely the past two or three days." Alexandre spared a glance at the traumatized female who stood near the door, her gaze fixed on the near-cremated remains of her boyfriend. He turned away, unable to bear her pain. "Strangely how?" "Jittery, as if he couldna stand still. He kept saying that something big was coming and he was to be an integral part of it."

"Does she have any clues, any idea of what he was talking about?" "Nay." "Enemies?" Sinjin shook his head. "She's as perplexed as we are. Philippe had come into the bar on several occasions and, according to what I've heard, he was an average vampire. He'd never set out to make a name for himself as some when they're first turned. He didn't feel as if he had anything to prove and, up until a week ago, he lived a pretty simple existence." "What changed?" "She said he suddenly came home with a handful of money and a story of something big. As the week progressed, he became more jittery and complained of feeling tired, like his chest was on fire. She said he was acting as if he'd gotten some tainted blood, but he never recovered as most would. In fact, he seemed to grow worse with each day." Interesting. "She thought he wasn't feeding properly and tried to talk to him about it. Philippe blew off her concerns." Alexandre studied the corpse. "Too bad for him." He raised his head, his gaze meeting Sinjin's. "Send her home and have someone stay with her for a while. Caution her to speak to no one of this." Sinjin nodded and turned away to deal with the female. Head down, Alexandre circled the shriveled corpse, studying it from every angle. Philippe DesJardins lay flat on his back, his left leg hooked behind the knee of his right. His hands were curled into fists, one arm by his side, the other bent at the elbow. The rose was mere inches from his fist and shoulder. His face was charred beyond recognition; the mouth wide open as if he'd screamed his way into death. At some point, his torso had been engulfed in flames. Everything from the waist down was untouched by fire, barely singed. Two things leapt out at Alexandre. Philippe was shriveled as if the liquids in his body had evaporated, leaving his corpse twisted and brittle like driftwood. But the most peculiar element was the massive whole in his chest where his heart should have been. Alexandre bent to study the aberration. He could easily have fit his fist and then some into the unnatural cavity. Not quite round, but not oblong either. The hole was clean as if it had been surgically cauterized. The edges of the wound were neatly singed, tidy. Through the hole, he glimpsed the dirty cement floor, only marginally scorched. There was nothing natural about this death. Visually, Philippe's body resembled a burning by the sun with a few exceptions. Usually, when a vampire died by sunlight, only the exposed area was reduced to ash. In this case, he was not. His extended arm was undamaged. The other arm, bent at the elbow, nearest the major damage was only singed, the skin blackened, but intact. Judging from the pattern of the burn, he'd been standing with the flames rising into his face in order for it to be damaged. The face was unrecognizable, but the skull was intact. It had not been reduced to ash, thus implying the fire in that area hadn't been as hot as it was in his chest.

He swallowed hard. The vampire had been killed by someone setting his chest-and only his chest-on fire. He'd been standing upright, causing the flames to destroy his face, before falling to the ground. The fire had burned long enough to evaporate the majority of bodily fluids as well. He shook his head. It should be damned near impossible for a vampire to be killed this way, by a mortal at least. A mortal wouldn't be able to handle a vampire"What's going on?"

Chapter 7 "He's dead." Cass frowned at the interruption; then his words sank in. "Already?" She lay her pen down. "He lasted longer than the last one." Miles dropped several Polaroid's on the desk in front of her. Fascinated, Cass picked them up and flicked through to see the hapless vampire in varying stages of destruction. While she was disappointed in the outcome, she rather liked the one that showed Philippe's face, mouth open as he screamed while being consumed by the flames. As she thumbed through the images, she could watch his once-handsome visage melt away. She wrinkled her nose, then dropped the photos. "The other one only lasted twenty hours or so. I was hoping for so much more with this one." She reached for a small leather notebook. Opening it, she studied the writing on a page dated two days before. "This one only lasted thirty- two and a half hours." "You've improved the formula." Absently, she nodded. "I'm getting closer, but I'm still disappointed." She flipped through a few more pages, coming to one dated today. "How is our next subject?" "Shaky but holding his own." "It's been almost forty-eight hours since he was dosed. So far so good." She closed the book. "I wonder why this one is lasting so much longer than dear Philippe." "Age?" "Hmm, could be. Could also be related to their master. This one has a much stronger master than Philippe did." She picked up her pen and scratched a note to herself. "Go out and keep a close eye on him. I want to see how he fares in the next ten hours or so."

"Will do." "Wait." She looked up, cursing inwardly as she asked the one question she'd wished to avoid. "Any news on Alexandre?" Miles' gaze was hooded as he nodded ever so slightly. "He'll be at your meeting." A surge of triumph washed over her. Finally, step two was accomplished. "Thank you, you may go now." He gave her a half-bow before exiting the room. She smiled to herself. Maybe now Alexandre would finally come to heel. Tomorrow would bring many things to the fore and she would make the Elder an offer he simply could not refuse. She dropped her pen and reached for a small, wooden box on the corner of her desk and opened it. Snug in a lining of deep blue velvet lay the very thing for which half the preternatural world was looking. The diary of Elsabeth, Mikhail's first wife. This small book could spell the end of the preternatural world as it currently stood and that's exactly what she was counting on. She flipped through the well-worn, faded pages. Of course, it would have been much more convenient for her if Elsabeth had written the details in a logical order. She'd failed to note a great many things in the tome. Cass rolled her eyes. No matter, she'd gotten the gist of what she needed and her experiments were progressing nicely. Should Alexandre make the mistake of turning her down, he and his companions would pay very dearly indeed and there was nothing they could do about it. Either way, she would be the victor.

Sunni shuddered at the thought of that poor, tortured vampire, dead on the floor of the warehouse. It had taken a half-hour and gallons of scalding water to remove the stench of burned flesh from her skin and hair. Her clothes were a loss as far as she was concerned; the smell would never come out of them. She couldn't get the sight of his destroyed face out of her mind. She touched her cheek as if to reassure herself that she'd left the gruesome scene unscathed. As long as she lived, she'd never forget the sight of that tormented creature. Burning had to be the worst way for a vampire to die. "Let it go, Sun." Alexandre stood in the open doorway of her shop, his expression stoic. She'd left him at the warehouse over two hours before with his hurried promise that he'd come to her when he was done. "I can't." She dropped her gaze to the floor. "I can't get him out of my mind. I close my eyes and he's still there" She raised her head, her eyes meeting his. "Who was he?" He hesitated.

"Damn it, that vision is going to haunt me for the rest of my life." She spun away from him, busying herself with reordering the pile of portfolios that contained examples of her and Sasha's work. They didn't need to be straightened again, but she desperately needed something to concentrate on or she'd start screaming and never stop. "The least you could do is tell me his name." "His name was Philippe DesJardins." She heard the door close. "According to his girlfriend, he was a street musician who liked to prey on junkies for the rush he received from their tainted blood." His voice was flat, emotionless and she turned to catch sight of the exhaustion written on his face. "Receiving tainted blood doesn't cause vampires to burst into flames." "You're right." He looked away. "Sunlight," she whispered. "Only sunlight can cause this type of death, or holy water if it's somehow ingested." She shivered. "If a vampire were unconscious, they could be set on fire and burned alive. I've heard stories over the years of vampires being burned alive while they slept during the day. It's one of the hazards of creating a lair within the confines of a man-made structure." Alexandre didn't respond. "You don't think either one killed him, do you?" "We're still investigating at this point." She rolled her eyes. There were times when talking to him was like trying to hold a conversation with a tree trunk. "Okay, so hazard a guess what it was." "I would hate to speculate on this." He crossed his arms over his chest. "For crying out loud." She slammed the last two portfolios on the table with a crash. "What is it with you? Do you always have to be so damned perfect?" She stalked toward him. "News flash, you're allowed to be wrong once in a while. You can make a guess. No one expects you to be perfect every moment of every day. When word of this gets out, it'll generate a shock wave through the whole community. Vampires will be frightened; I know I am. What will you say to them when they come to you?" "That's why you need to leave New Orleans. Now, tonight." She skidded to a halt, stunned. "What did you say?" "You need to leave." "No." A flicker of annoyance crossed his face before it vanished. "Yes." "This is my home and I won't leave it. Are you going to ask every vampire in the city to pack up and leave?" "The smart ones have already left."

"Oh, yeah?" She placed her hands on her hips. "Guess what? I can take care of myself and I've been doing so for many years now." "Like that time in San Francisco?" She scowled. "I made a mistake and, yes, it almost cost me my life. I was lucky you were there to help me. However, a gentleman wouldn't have brought that up." He gave an unpleasant laugh. "Finally, you figured it out." He moved toward her. "I want you to pack and leave tonight." "No." She stood her ground as he loomed over her. "You can't make me leave." "I am the head of-" "Bah!" She turned away, stopping only when he grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to face him once more. Her breath caught as she looked into his eyes. Dark and haunted, he wasn't as emotionless as he'd let on. "Will you never listen?" "I always listen... to my heart." "Sunni-" His tone was half-groan, half-growl. Reaching up, she curled her fingers in the lapels of his silk jacket, tugging him toward her, delighted when she saw the flash of desire ignite in his eyes. He wanted her, no matter how much he tried to fight it. A thrill of possession ran down her spine. "Kiss me," she whispered. "No." He reached for her hands but she tightened her grip. "Please?" His head dipped as if he had no control over his own reaction to her. Her breath mingled with his, deepening as his raw sensuality poured over her skin like molten gold. Her hands released their death grip on his jacket to curl around the back of his neck. "Damn you, I don't want you," he snarled. "Yes, you do." She stretched on the tips of her toes to brush her lips across his. Once. Twice. A sound broke from him and they came together. Their tongues tangled as she sucked at his mouth. He backed her against the counter, his arms encircling her waist, lifting her. She parted her thighs, moaning as he stepped between to lean into her. She arched as his hips gave an abbreviated thrust against the core of her desire. She felt the rise of a longing buried so deep within her soul that she couldn't let go of him if her life depended upon it. She caught a finger on his hair tie and pulled it free, allowing the dark waves to escape their confinement. Tangling her fingers in his freed locks, she tugged his head into a more gratifying position as his touch

softened. She couldn't resist reaching to grasp his backside, her fingers digging into his firm, silk covered flesh. She spread her thighs farther, shifting her hips to change her angle every so slightly. Oh, yes. He thrust again. He'd found her sweet spot. "Please," she whispered. "Touch me." He moved his hand along her inner thigh beneath her skirt. Strong, callused fingers slid past her dampened panties to stroke her aroused flesh. A whimper broke from her lips as two fingers slid into her swollen sheath to plumb her velvety depths. One digit brushed her clitoris, eliciting a sigh as a rush of desire zinged through her abdomen and curled her toes. She kicked off her sandals and they hit the floor with a clatter. He worked her flesh in a no-nonsense manner, each movement zeroed on the seat of her desire until her hips jerked and she tightened around him. Light burst behind her eyelids as her release swept her body. As her shudders subsided, he slid his hand away. She whimpered at the drag of his fingers against her swollen bud. He gently rearranged her skirt, covering her before stepping away. Her gaze fastened on the massive erection tenting his trousers. A yearning curled through her body and she reached for him, startled when his hand stopped her. She met his gaze. "We can't do this." His voice was remote, at odds with the fever that still burned in his eyes. She forced a smile even though she felt like crying. "I think we just did."When was he going to admit that they should be together? "It was a mistake." He backed toward the door. "I want you to leave the city, Sun." He reached for the handle and opened the door, pausing to lock it from the inside. "You'll be safer away from here, away from me. I don't want to see you hurt." Without waiting for a response, he left, shutting the door behind him. She slid from the counter, her body sated but her soul heavy. There was no way she could leave him, not now when he needed her the most.

Dawn approached. Alexandre stared out the window of his library, watching as the sky turned pink. Ripening from a dark raspberry to a sublime peach, sunrise was his favorite time of the day. For hundreds of years he'd been consigned to the darkness, but now that he'd aged enough to allow him limited amounts of sunlight, he never missed an opportunity to indulge. Lord, but he was tired.

He raised a hand to his forehead and caught a whiff of elusive scent. He closed his eyes and inhaled her fragrance that still clung to his skin. Sunni. She was a danger to him and to herself and she didn't have the sense to realize it. What was he going to do with her? She'd refused to leave New Orleans and she was a serious distraction. It wasn't safe for her to remain. And he wanted her. Images of her riding his hand, her soft cries as she'd crested, invaded his mind. The memory of the warmth of her skin against his was as strong as it had been many hours before when he'd left her alone in the shop. He'd only hurt her. He wasn't the man she believed him to be. Just ask the Albigenses from the village where he'd been raised. Not that any of them had survived. A shaft of pain lanced his chest at the thought of his slaughtered comrades. It had been eight hundred years since the massacre in Albi, France, and he, the only survivor. And it was his fault. Since then, he'd spent many hours contemplating that night. Twists of fate had conspired to put him in this time and place and he would not shirk his duty for a mere woman. He'd done it once before, never again. Too many lives depended upon him.

Chapter 8 Sunni stepped out onto the balcony above her shop, watching the colorful crowds move along Bourbon Street. Mardi Gras was nearing an end and the air was heavy with humidity. The temperature had reached an unseasonable ninety degrees with an equal humidity ratio during the day. Neither had subsided with the sun. There was an unfamiliar, threatening tension in the air. She scanned her surroundings but saw nothing amiss. The mortals on the street didn't seem to feel it as they went about their evening, imbibing Hurricanes, dancing in the street and picking up strangers for fast, emotionless couplings. Sex was happening all around her. Maybe that was the problem. Since being in Alexandre's arms last night, she couldn't get thoughts of him in her bed out of her mind. With his touch, he'd awakened the sleeping woman inside her and she wanted more...much more. She lifted the edge of her cotton blouse away from her overheated skin, fanning it lightly. Vampires, in

general, didn't react to heat or cold but, tonight, she was on fire. A smile curved her mouth as a tingle of anticipation ran over her skin. Would she see him tonight? If she had anything to say about it, yes, she would. The sooner the better. A faint drift of cool energy moved across her skin, causing her to drop the hem of her shirt. A revenant was near. Sunni turned her head slowly, scanning the crowd once more. She frowned. There was definitely a revenant near. But, with the size of the crowd below, they could be anywhere. She leaned forward to get a better look and her breath caught in her throat as she caught sight of Miles. He stood across the street, staring up at her with an expectant expression on his face. She jerked back, startled. How long had he been there? What did he want? She leaned forward once more, her gaze locking with his. A slow smile curved his mouth before he turned to walk down the street, his pace leisurely. She leaned further out, not wanting to lose sight of him, but she needed to get hold of Alexandre fast. Miles stopped at the corner by the new reggae club and looked back, his gaze meeting hers once more. He gave her a slight nod before moving around the corner to vanish from sight. He's up to something... Sunni dashed into the house and snatched up her cell phone as she ran for the door. Heart thumping, she dialed Alexandre's home number. The annoying buzz of a busy signal sounded loud in her ear. Drat! Didn't the man know about call waiting? She could call to him telepathically, but it wasn't really an emergency and she hoped it didn't escalate to that. She slammed the phone down as she ran down the steps leading to the shop. For now, she'd follow Miles, then report back to Alexandre. It wasn't as if the revenant would get the chance to actually hurt her. She'd learned her lesson. She wouldn't allow him close enough to touch. Sasha had someone in the tattoo chair as Sunni ran through, tossing only a hurried wave to her partner. Humid air engulfed her as she exited the shop. Dodging the foot traffic clogging the street, she arrived at the corner where Miles had vanished only moments before. She knew the streets of New Orleans like the back of her hand. Unafraid, she turned the corner to follow her prey. Small shops lined the street but she paid them nary a glance as she maneuvered around the small clumps of window-shoppers. She caught sight of Miles again and increased her pace. She wanted to stay behind him, but she didn't want to take a chance on losing him either. As they progressed, she caught brief glimpses of him. Just enough to ensure that she was still on his trail. With each block, the din of Mardi Gras faded and the shops grew older, more esoteric. Here and there, storefronts stood long empty, their blank windows laden with dust, staring at her like so many soulless eyes. She shivered. He stopped in the center of the street a half block away. His gaze was fixed on a small sign, which hung over the door to a shop. Without warning, he looked back, his gaze focusing on her. He smiled and, with

a slight nod, turned and stepped into the store. He knew she was following him. He wanted her to. Sunni shivered as she pulled the phone from her pocket and tried Alexandre once more, the insistent buzzing causing her to scowl at the offending instrument. Cursing silently, she shoved it back into her pocket and hurried after Miles, stopping only when she'd reached the store. Like so many others in the area, the windows were dark, the display area thick with dust. Over the door hung a weathered sign, faded gold lettering proclaiming:

Mambo Cecile Love Potions, Charms, Cures and Hexes Made to Order. Established 1904.

New Orleans was filled with charlatans who claimed to be able to bring about a life change with the purchase of a smelly bag filled with dried chicken bones, pungent herbs and a few goat hairs. While voodun was a popular back-street religion in the superstitious south, most of those who advertised were only out for a buck in Sunni's opinion. Hesitant, she stepped up onto the worn stair, taking care to avoid the small piles of cigars, candies and coins left as a thank you to the voodun Mambo. Mambo Cecile must be doing something correct to warrant such a pile of goods left for her. Sunni stepped through the open door and inside. For a split second, the store looked empty, a thick layer of dust coating everything. Only a single trail of footprints revealed that someone had been there recently. She blinked and, all at once, the room was flooded with light. What the... It was as if someone had thrown a switch and the shop had come to life. The shop was tiny, half the size of her own business. Shelves lined three walls of the room and in the center of the far wall was an open doorway covered with strands of hanging wooden beads to form a curtain. They swayed from the passage of someone; their hollow clacking reminding Sunni of the sound of dried bones. A strange scent, like that of old coffee and something floral swirled about her, making her dizzy with its fragrance. "Who do you seek?" The soft tones of a woman sounded, startling her. She turned her head to see a small woman seated beside a table with a variety of bottles and bags scattered across the surface. She was tiny and delicate, her skin the creamy brown of an octoroon. She was young, maybe early twenties, and her hair was hidden beneath a brightly colored turban. Her dress was white and gauzy, covering her from neck to toes. Her gaze direct from liquid dark eyes. "A man," Sunni replied.

The woman's brow arched. "Many women come seeking a man." "I seek only one." A soft smile curved her mouth. "You is a smart one." "No, I seek the man who entered here just a few seconds ago." The woman's smile faded as she selected a square of red silk and spread it out on the table. "I see." She picked up a small bowl and extracted a dried twig. "I thought maybe you sought the one who needs you most." She crumbled the twig into the center of the material. Sunni blinked, trying hard to concentrate on what she was saying. The scent in the shop was making her lightheaded. "Who are you talking about?" The woman rummaged through the contents on the table until she located a bag of small bones. Dropping one into a mortar, she began grinding the bone with the pestle. Then she raised her head, her gaze dark and piercing. "You know of whom I speak, vampire." She started. Mortals almost never knew she was a vampire. Their minds wouldn't allow them to accept the truth even on the rare occasion that she told them. In several instances, she'd met a mortal with the gift of recognition and it appeared this woman was one ofthem . People with that ability made her distinctly uneasy, as if the stranger could see inside her very skin. "Who are you?" Sunni asked. "I am Cecile and this is my place." She added the now-powdered bone to her concoction. "And I'm Sunni. I'm in search of the man who just came in here." She gestured toward the beads, now still. "Did he go through there?" Cecile nodded, her gaze solemn. "He is not the one you seek for he's not your destiny." She selected strands of hair from a small jar and added to the growing pile on the red satin. "Know that he shall be an instrument in the destruction of many." Sunni didn't believe in voodun mumbo jumbo, but there was something about the woman's voice that sent a shiver of foreboding down her spine. Was there something that Alexandre had neglected to tell her about Miles? Should she turn back and get Sinjin or Alexandre? He'll get away. And Alexandre would miss him. Damn. She turned and headed for the bead-covered door, her sandals making little sound on the dusty ancient wooden floor. "Wait, vampire, you will need this." She turned to see Cecile tying a knot in the top of the small red bag and attaching a black cord. "It will aid you in your journey. You'll need to keep this with you until the darkness has passed." Sunni cringed at the thought of putting the bag near her skin as she'd seen what the woman had put inside it. "No, thanks." She parted the beads and stepped into the back room.

"It's your funeral," the woman crooned in a singsong tone. "And I shall wear red to it. Ah, vampire, trust no one..." Sunni let the beads fall back into place, their eerie wooden clacking loud in the stillness. The tiny backroom was filled to overflowing with dusty boxes, most closed, some opened and spilling their macabre contents onto the floor. Stepping over what looked like a bag of dried chicken feet, she headed for the open back door to another narrow alley. Senses alert, she exited the shop. The stench of rotting food swirled around her, clearing her muddied senses. Whatever Cecile had had in there, Sunni didn't want to experience any more of it. "Welcome, Sunni. I'm so pleased you could join me." Busted... She turned to see Miles. He stood in the shadows, leaning against the building on the opposite side of the alley. He shoved away from the wall and stepped into the faint light from Cecile's door. "An invitation would have been nice. At least then I'd have known how to dress." She gestured to her simple gauze skirt and top. "I fear I'm overdressed." She nodded toward the debris in the alley. His smile was cold, his gaze flat. "You'll do for what I have in mind." "And that would be?" "I have something for you to do." "What is it?" He extracted a small envelope from his pocket. "You need to deliver this to Alexandre. It's very important and I know I can trust you to carry it without reading it." "I have a news flash for you. There's a modern invention called a courier whom you can pay to deliver items. If that isn't speedy enough, there is something called a fax." He ignored her sarcasm. "The preternatural world is in an uproar and we're not sure whom we can trust. There are enemies all around us." A thrill of excitement raced through her. "Who isus ?" "Cassiopeia and I." Aha! Sheisin town. Now to discover her lair. "What is she doing here?" "She's come to the city in order to discuss terms with the head of the Council." He waggled the envelope. "That's what this missive is about. She's arranging a meeting with him." He offered her the packet again. "In here is the key to a peaceful future for those who dwell in the shadows." Her gaze locked on the white envelope. Finally, she could prove to Alexandre that she was useful and

could take care of herself. She reached for the offering. Miles snatched it away, out of her reach. "Remember, trust no one. The future of the preternaturals depends upon you." She frowned, wasn't that what Cecile had said? As he held out the missive once more, she moved forward to take it. As her fingers brushed the heavy vellum, something moved in the darkness behind her. Before she made a sound, strong arms caught her around the torso, pinning one arm to her side. Another figure came in from the left and grabbed her other arm. Trapped, Sunni snarled at her captors, dismayed to find that she was held by two male vampires, both much older than herself. How had they managed to sneak up on her like this? She struggled only to find that she couldn't move at all. She was well and truly trapped. Miles crumpled the envelope and dropped it, a sharp smile curving his mouth. "Now, now, didn't I warn you not to trust anyone?" He shook his head as he withdrew a small leather pouch from his other pocket. I was included in that, of course." "What do you want?" she snapped, fear threatening to choke her. "Well, let's see, I'm already immortal, so I don't need that. I'm rich beyond my wildest dreams, so I don't need money." He raised his hand and stepped toward her, drawing a fingertip down her cheek. "However, I do need you." Revulsion crawled along her skin at the thought of this man touching her. "Not on your life." He laughed and stepped away to open the pouch. "Don't worry, little vampire, I won't touch you." He withdrew a small vial and a hypodermic needle. "Knowing that Alexandre has been there before me would be enough to cool my desire." Sunni eyed the bright orange fluid in the bottle. "What is that?" "Just a little something for you, my dear." He filled the hypodermic-the liquid glowed as if lit from within. "I think you'll enjoy it. I know without a doubt that Alexandre will." He returned the vial to the pouch before returning it to his pocket. Sunni struggled in earnest as he advanced toward her, panic searing her skin. "Don't you dare." She bared her teeth. "Hold her," he directed her captors. "I don't want this creature biting me." She kicked out as Miles drew close. With a jolt of victory, her foot connected with his shin. She took pleasure as he winced. "Damn it! Get her down on the ground," he snapped. She shrieked as the two vampires knocked her to the ground, face down. The larger one pinned her by straddling her back while the other pulled her arm straight out from her body. She screamed as he leaned into her, his knee digging into her shoulder, thus keeping her immobile. She watched in horror as Miles approached once more, the needle glinting in the muted evening light. He

dropped to a crouch and she howled as he plunged the needle into her exposed flesh. She strained against their hands as Miles pushed the plunger, shooting the liquid into her vein. A rushing sound filled her ears and instantly her body became raging hot. Fire moved through her veins, immobilizing her. Vaguely, she was aware of hands being removed and her vision wavered as she sluggishly rolled onto her back. Her three tormentors stood over her, watching as she tried to school her muscles to move, to run away. Miles reached into his pocket and pulled out the leather pouch once more. No more no more... Agony clawed at her skin as the vile liquid ate at her flesh. She felt as if she were dissolving. What was it that he'd shot into her? She struggled to breathe, her chest constricting as if she couldn't draw any air at all. Her eyes fluttered shut. I have to get up... She forced her eyes open. The men were gone and Cecile bent over her. The woman's face was concerned and in her hand she held the gris-gris, the red bag she'd offered Sunni earlier. Her lips moved and her words sounded hollow as if she were a great distance away. "I done tole you. You need to keep this with you, little vampire. It will keep you safe." Warm hands looped the bag around her neck, its weight oddly comforting as it settled between her breasts. "Come, you get up now." Mambo Cecile helped Sunni to her feet where she swayed, dizzy and sick to her stomach. She leaned against the building and tried to mumble her thanks, but her lips refused to move. Every nerve screaming, she tried to speak but nothing would come out. "Now go to him, little one," Cecile whispered. "He will save you." "C-can't...m-m-move." Cecile ran her hand over Sunni's eyes, shutting them. "You don't need to." In her mind, she reached for Alexandre...

"I got her." Cass looked up from her research notes to smile at Miles. "Marvelous." She leaned forward. "Did she suffer much?" He shrugged. "No more than the others. She dropped faster and lost consciousness within two minutes. She's strong for her age. She'll be up and about within an hour or so." "Excellent." Cass flipped through a few pages of the book to make notes as Miles continued to supply

details.

Subject 01-105-female vampire, 5' 3" and approximately 105 pounds. She was a healthy 25 yr old human and has been a vampire for approximately sixty years. No known outstanding powers.

Received dose at 10:20 P.M.-Subject received lot 4-a, 20cc via intravenous injection. Lost consciousness within 2 minutes and is expected to regain her equilibrium within an hour. Assistant will monitor her progress.

Cass sat back, satisfied with the night's work. Their seventh and, hopefully, most successful experiment was now under way, Alexandre had confirmed that he'd meet with her tomorrow and she was well on her way to having the ultimate revenge. With Sunni out of the picture, Alexandre would be eating out of her hand instead. She bristled at the thought of the scrawny blonde vampire with her ex-lover. Alexandre was excellent in bed, if not a bit remote outside of it. That was fine with her as she considered emotions to be an unnecessary complication when it came to sex. She rose and dropped her pen onto the notebook. It was time to feed. Soon, Alexandre would be hers once more and all would be as it should. Humming a tune under her breath, Cass set about preparing for the hunt.

Chapter 9 It was a good thing she loved to swim, Sunni decided. She felt like she was underwater. She floated down the street, barely feeling the pavement beneath her shoes as she walked. The Bourbon Street crowd ebbed and flowed around her as she progressed, their laughter muffled. She giggled in delight as she stared at her beloved city through new eyes. It felt as if the world were brighter, more exciting, more...everything. A young man grabbed her by the wrist and placed a liquor-scented kiss on her cheek. "God, you're beautiful. Marry me?" She tipped her head back and laughed for the sheer joy of it. "Oh, but I cannot marry you today, kind sir, for I have a very important appointment." "I'll get on my knees and beg." Pulling away, she gave him a flirtatious smile. "I might enjoy that more than you'll ever know, however, I must decline." She moved again through the crowds, ignoring his pleas for her to return. The brightly colored lights of a store window caught her attention and she drifted toward it, pressing

close as a child would to a colorful display of toys. Christmas lights outlined the display, intertwined with silk scarves, gaudy jewelry and body paints. She blinked several times; the swirling lights were beginning to give her a headache. Interesting. Did vampires get headaches? She'd certainly never had one in all of her years. As a matter of fact, she couldn't remember ever feeling like this before in her life. She turned away from the window as she rubbed between her eyes to ease the unfamiliar tension. Now, where was I going? Bewildered, she leaned against a lamppost to get her bearings. She was at the far end of Bourbon Street, quite a way from her shop. How did she end up here? She frowned, unable to recall anything between rising at dusk and now. She glanced around, unease growing. The bright lights and meandering pedestrians seemed more sinister now. She rubbed the tense spot between her eyes as panic mounted. What was she doing here? She caught sight of her palms and her eyes widened. They were dirty as if she'd been playing in the grime of the streets. What happened? She shoved away from her sanctuary. Heart pounding, she staggered down the street, jostling passersby until she darted down the first available alley. Her sandals slapped the pavement as she ran toward Dauphine. She darted out into the busy street, ignoring the blaring of horns as she ran. She continued her harried journey until she reached the next intersection where she was forced to pause, allowing a car to pass before running ever-farther north. Her breath heaved in her chest as she finally slowed. Where was she going? What was she running from? She glanced behind her. Had she been followed? The hubbub of Bourbon Street was several blocks behind her and she was finally safe. Safe from what? She looked down at her scraped palms. Panic swamped her. She couldn't remember what had happened. Vague images materialized: a young black woman, a needle, a strange vampire... Miles. She straightened, needing to find Alexandre. Head spinning, she stepped into the street, directly into the path of an oncoming truck. As if in slow motion, she turned to see the truck bearing down. This is going to hurt...

Heart in his throat, Alexandre grabbed Sunni from behind and plucked her from the street. His arm encircled her waist as he took the brunt of their fall, grunting as her elbow dug into his stomach. The driver screamed profanities in their direction as he raced off with a squeal of tires. For a second, he savored the solid weight of her body resting on his, her back to his front. "Alexandre?" Her voice was wobbly.

"Damn it." He forcefully put her aside, setting her on the pavement before rolling to his feet. "Didn't you hear me shouting your name? Why didn't you answer me-" Then he saw her face. A small amount of dirt marred the curve of her left cheek and throat. Her lightweight dress was dirty as if she'd fallen into something he didn't want to name. The bodice was torn at the left shoulder, exposing the creamy curve, it, too, marred with dirt. "What happened to you?" "It is you," she breathed. A smile of perfection curved her mouth-his chest tightened. Even dirty and bedraggled, she was a beauty to behold. "I knew I'd find you." She held out her hands, silently asking him to help her rise. "Are you hurt?" He grasped her hands and pulled her upright, catching the wince that crossed her face. He turned her hands to see the dirt and the scrapes that marked her palms. "I'm okay now." She swayed toward him. "Did you fall?" He inspected her silky head for any sign of damage. "No, I didn't fall." Her voice was unsure. Alexandre stared hard at her face. She looked fine, but she wasn't acting normal. Then again, what was normal for Sunni? She was the flightiest person he'd ever met in his life. "Are you sure you're not injured?" He released her and stepped away. "Oh yes, I'm just lovely." She swayed again, forcing him to step in and capture her before she fell flat on her face. As his hands closed around her arms, she gave him another beatific smile. "I'm just perfect now." She licked her lips. "Can we go to your place?" "Why my place?" She gave him a sleepy smile as she leaned into him, nestling her check against his chest. "I'm really tired and it's too far back to mine." Had she fed on tainted blood? It was barely midnight, so there was no reason for her to be tired this early. If she'd fed on tainted blood, a fresh meal was what she needed and that she could get at his house. What harm would it be to take her there? At least he wouldn't have to worry about her as long as she was secure under his roof. You want her more than under your roof. You want her beneath you as well. He bit back a groan at the powerful image. "Come on." He released her, capturing her wrist to tow her behind him. He led her down the street to where he'd left his car double-parked, much to the dismay of other drivers. When he'd seen Sunni, all rational thoughts had fled and he'd jumped from his car, almost before it had come to a complete halt. She stumbled behind him. "Are we going home?"

"We're going to my house, yes." "Oh, goodie." She giggled, then bumped into him when he stopped to open the passenger door for her. "Nice car." She slid into the soft leather of the bucket seat. He didn't answer as he slammed the door shut and circled the vehicle to climb in the driver's side. Sunni was humming tunelessly as he drove for the garden district and his secluded home. "I'm really hot," she complained. He shot her a sideways glance. It was unnaturally hot and humid for this time of year, but vampires rarely noticed the heat. She'd definitely gotten hold of something that wasn't agreeing with her. "Have you fed this evening, Sun?" She leaned forward to fiddle with the radio, a frown curving her mouth. "I think so." "You think so?" She picked a blues station before sitting back. "It's been alooong night, my friend." "So it has," he muttered. The drive to his home was completed without incident and he pulled around the house to park in his customary spot, well hidden from the street. He hastened around to assist his unexpected houseguest, surprised when she opened the door and fell out onto her back. He crouched beside her. "What are you doing?" "Someone moved the ground," she snorted. Her eyes widened, looking behind him. "Oh my, look at the stars." He spared a quick glance at the darkened sky. "Yes, they're still there." "And then some. They are something, aren't they? Just sparkling up there for millions and millions of years. Day after day." Her gaze shifted, meeting his. "Of course, they're not nearly as impressive when compared to your eyes." "Okay, time to get up." He grasped her by the wrists and pulled her to her feet, her body leaning into him when he tried to stand her upright. She seemed incapable of standing on her own. Giving up, he swept her into his arms, ignoring her shriek of delight as he carried her in the back door. The house was as still as it had been when he'd left barely an hour before. His revenant, Nelson, had left for the night and they were alone. "Where are we going?" He tried to ignore the delightful bundle in his arms as he walked up the servant's steps, but she cuddled against his chest and twined her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair. Within seconds, she'd removed his hair from its tie as she ran her fingers through it.

"Stop that," he snapped. "I like your hair down," she purred. He felt a spurt of unwanted pleasure at her words. Tamping it down, he strode into the bathroom and deposited her on the closed commode. He needed to get away from her and fast. "Can you get yourself cleaned up?" He kept his tone deliberately distant. "It'd be easier if you helped." He ignored the siren's song in her voice as he bent over the massive bathtub and turned on the taps with a turn of his wrist. "I'll get you some towels and there are various bubbles and scents-" He turned in time to see Sunni toss a small red bag onto the vanity before struggling out of her tattered clothing. His mouth went dry when he saw pale skin. Her breasts were small and perfectly shaped, her nipples in coral-colored relief against the cream of her skin. A rush of lust hit him below the belt and he had to turn away. Wrenching open the linen closet door, he felt the antique handle give way in his hand. What the devil was wrong with him? She was only a woman, for crying out loud. He'd been around many women over the years and he'd managed to keep it together. He certainly didn't remember ever breaking a door over one before. He dropped the damaged handle on the shelf, then grabbed two towels from the closet and dropped them on the edge of the tub. "I'll be outside if you need anything." His hand closed over the doorknob leading to the hallway. "Like my back washed?" He gritted his teeth as he exited, closing the door securely behind him. Leaning against the polished wood, he took a deep breath and slowly released it. He had paperwork waiting for him, including the forensics report on Philippe DesJardins. Behind the door, Sunni burst into the sensual "Peel Me A Grape." The urge to open the door was overwhelming. He ground his teeth in frustration, for the first time hating the burdens that lay on his shoulders.

What the devil was she doing up there? Alexandre shot an annoyed look at the ceiling, aimed at the bathroom directly above. It had been over an hour since he'd left her there. Other than hearing the water shut off, he'd heard nothing. Not a peep. He glared at the papers on his desk. Maybe he should check on her? She's fine on her own. Maybe she'd drowned? Vampires can't drown.

What if she was seriously hurt and couldn't call out to him? Not likely... With a snarl, he shoved his chair away from the desk and rose, stalking out of his office. Regardless of what might have happened to Sunni in the comforts of his bathroom, he wouldn't be getting any work done while she was in his house. Maybe he should bundle her up and take her home? That was the ticket. Once he got her out of the house, then he could get back to work. He had a lot to accomplish before meeting Cass. He ran up the steps and down a short hall, dismayed to see the bathroom door was still shut. Hesitant, he raised a hand and knocked lightly. "Sunni?" Silence. He knocked again, this time louder. "Sunni, are you all right?" He heard the swish of water and a faint sound that could have been a snore. He grabbed the knob and turned. The scent of floral bubble bath assailed his nose as he entered, his eyes widening as he took in the destruction that was once his immaculate bathroom. Melting bubbles covered half the antique tile floor as if the bath had run over. More bubbles were heaped in the tub itself, some clung to the wall where they were dissolving while more flecked the windows in white blobs. It certainly looked as if she'd had herself a fine old time. Cautious about slipping, he inched toward the overflowing tub. Bubbles swelled over the rim by at least a foot in wobbly towers of white as if they were a mythical castle with towers and ramparts. And in the center lay the princess. Sunni was sound asleep, floating in the center of that creation, her head crowned by a delicate bubble tiara. As she slept, her body bobbed in the water ever so slightly, allowing him a glimpse of those luscious nipples as the bubbles parted to reveal them before closing once more as if to shield their mistress from prying eyes. His body tightened. Maybe he wouldn't take her home right away... "Sunni, wake up." She didn't stir. "Sunni." He spoke louder this time. Her lips moved as a soft sound escaped her, but she didn't awaken. He reached out, delving into the bubbles for her shoulder. "Wake up." Her eyelids fluttered, then opened, and he fell headlong into their doe-brown depths. She blinked and a sleepy smile curved her mouth. She raised her arm as if to reach for him and he caught her hand, forcing

her to sit upright. "Time to get out of there." "You won't join me?" "No." He turned to grab dry towels and dropped them on top of the closed commode. "I'll leave those right here." He glanced at her. "Do you think you can get out of the tub by yourself?" She smiled and, to his astonishment, rose from her bubbled domain. Water and foam streamed from her body, outlining her surprisingly lush figure in blobs of white. Her body was everything a man could ever wish for, strong, graceful, soft, yet resilient. So tiny, Sunni was just a bit over five feet tall and every inch was perfection. His mouth went dry as she stepped from the tub, her movement self-assured. She reached around him, her taut nipples mere inches from his chest as she selected a washcloth. He tried to look away, but his eyes were glued to her, the insistent throb of his cock overriding any demands from his logical mind. His knees grew weak as she moved to the sink, presenting him with a perfectly rounded backside. Turning on the water, she wet the cloth and began removing the suds from her body. First her arms. Raising one hand above her head, she swept the dampened cloth along the inside of her arm, then up the outside before turning her attentions to the opposite arm. In the mirror, her breasts bobbed with her movements, her coral nipples alert as if begging for his attention. Next she cleansed her breasts, taking great care with their aroused tips, running the cloth once, twice, then a third time over each. He licked his lips, imagining the taste of her pearled flesh in his mouth. She trailed the cloth over her stomach, removing the last of the bubbles, and he glimpsed an intricate mehndi tattoo encircling her belly button. His cock gave a wild lunge for freedom. What was it about that tattoo that turned him on so? In his world, good girls didn't indulge in that sort of behavior... She raised her foot and placed it on the closed commode before bending over. The supple curve of her spine stood in relief as she stroked one leg, then the other. His breath sounded harsh as she placed her foot on the floor. Spreading her thighs, she moved the cloth between them, a soft sound escaping her lips as she rubbed, once, twice, three times... then a fourth. Her movements slow and methodical. He licked his lips, his gaze flicking to her face, surprised to see her watching him in the mirror. His control snapped and he reached for her, whipping her around to face him. "Damn you, Sun-" He plundered her mouth, groaning as her taste rocketed through his system. Their tongues tangled as she sucked, wrenching a surprised whimper from him as she nipped his lower lip. Her nipples prodded his chest as he ate her mouth. His heart dropped to his knees as she stepped between his legs, her fingers plunging into the front of his pants and freeing his erection. Her hands were sweet as they closed around him, one massaging his rigid length while the other cupped his balls, treating them to a gentle squeeze. He broke the kiss, a groan escaping as she stroked, his hips involuntarily jerking. Her friction caused a rush of sensation down his spine and his knees wobbled. He wouldn't last long if she kept up this

delicious torture. "I need to be inside you," he growled. "Now." Sunni stepped back, her eyes dark with desire. Silently, she took his hand and led him from the room. In the hall she hesitated, as if not sure which direction to go. He grasped her shoulders and pointed her to an open door, ushering her into his bedroom. Sliding his hands around her waist, he guided her onto his bed. He stepped between her thighs as she lay back against the cool satin covers. She raised one knee, her silken skin caressing his hip. "Come inside." She arched her hips as if to offer herself to him. He was greedy, but he knew that, if he took her now, it would be over in a matter of moments. He was too close to the edge. He pressed forward, his cock brushing the wiry blonde hair at the apex of her thighs. She made a small noise from the back of her throat as she reached for him. He intercepted her, running his hand over her lower belly, his fingers brushing her curls before moving inside. She was wet for him. His teeth came together with a sharp click as her damp heat poured over his skin. His thumb brushed her clit, her back arched and she cried out. His cock lunged forward, and he knew it was no use, he didn't want to take another breath without first having her. He stripped off his shirt and flung it to the side. He found her entrance and remained poised there until she looked up at him. Their gazes met and he thrust forward, burying his length in her damp heat. For a second he feared he would lose it immediately. It had been too long since last he'd sought release and, with his first thrust, he was ready to finish it. He struggled for control, moaning as Sunni moved, raising her thighs to draw him deeper. Her entrance rippled with tiny contractions, as if she too were near to falling over the edge. He couldn't hold back any longer. He leaned forward and braced his torso on his arms, and he began to thrust. Slowly at first, then with increasing force. He was dimly aware of the massive mahogany headboard hitting the wall, but he didn't care. His hands curled over her shoulders as their pace increased, pressure thrumming through his body. Slender fingers stroked his neck and he knew what she wanted-to taste the blood that ruled him. He'd never allowed another woman to drink from him during sex; it was too intimate, too emotional. Yet he found himself relaxing, allowing his chest to rest against hers, shuddering as her warm mouth brushed his skin. He dipped his head as he, too, found the spot where her frantic pulse beat. In unison, their teeth broke skin, allowing a few drops to coat their mouths. That was all it took. Exhilaration screamed through him as, within seconds, Sunni convulsed around him, milking him into orgasm. Raw sensation poured over his skin as her body clasped his, urging him to join her. Reality faded as he came, moaning as he jettisoned the evidence of his desire into her heat. On and on it went, his body demanding every second of pleasure it could attain. Finally drained, his mouth slid from her neck as his eyes closed, his mind numb with pleasure. Mustering the last of his strength, he rolled to one side, taking her with him. Cuddling her to his chest, he closed his

eyes and allowed his mind to relax for the first time in a very long while.

Her skin was warm, almost absurdly so. Alexandre stroked the long line of her side, reveling in the soft warmth of her skin. Sunni was asleep in the nude, sprawled on the wadded covers of his bed. Her skin was pale against the dark brown spread and he couldn't shake the feeling of rightness for her in his bed. His gaze skimmed her torso, coming to rest on her nipples. Now soft, they slumbered, as did their mistress. Reaching over, he brushed a finger over a tip, once, twice, feeling it harden beneath his touch. Even in sleep she was responsive to him. Unable to resist, he teased her burgeoning tip with his tongue, bringing it into full arousal. Suckling, he leaned into her, taking the other between two fingers so it wouldn't feel abandoned. She woke with a sigh, her lashes fluttering before her eyes opened. She reached for him, tangling her fingers in his hair as he feasted on her flesh. "Hi," she whispered. He released his treat. "Hi." He kissed a lazy path down her stomach, taking great care to nibble at the edges of the mehndi design encircling her belly button before continuing south. She parted her thighs at his urging and he was gratified to see that, already, she was aroused. Her skin was damp as he slipped his fingers inside her. Her hips rolled as he stroked the center of her desire before dipping his head to taste. She was soft and warm against his tongue, tart yet sweet as he lapped at flesh. Her cries increased as she ascended her summit. Her hands tightened their grip in his hair, but he paid her no mind, his concentration focused on pleasuring her. Her drew her clit into his mouth, sucking for all he was worth. Her cries grew more frantic until she came against him. Breath raging in his lungs, he rose from his crouched position and entered her in one swift thrust. She curled around him, her thighs rising to embrace as he took them both on a journey, this time, together.

An hour later, he stirred. He noted with some amusement that Sunni slept, her limbs heavy against his. Her arm was draped over him as if she couldn't bear to let him go, even in sleep. She was insatiable. He grinned. Then again, so was he. He gently took her arm, drawing it off him. His gaze followed the graceful sweep of her skin before locking on something unusual. A small bruise on the delicate skin inside her elbow. What had she done to herself? He leaned closer. It wasn't a bruise; it looked like a needle mark. What would Sunni have been doing with a needle? Vampires didn't need to, although sometimes they opted for a transfusion rather than feed.

A popular choice for the vegetarians among them. He frowned as he settled her arm by her side. Was Sunni a vegetarian? She'd certainly been eager enough to taste him, which told him this wasn't the caseThe phone interrupted his train of thought. He grabbed the receiver and heard, "We have another body."

Forty-five minutes later, Alexandre crouched by the charred, shriveled remains of a young woman. Her face was untouched, perfect, her once golden hair scorched while her arms and legs were sprawled in awkward angles from her damaged torso. The ignition point appeared to be the area where her heart should have been. Like Philippe, a large hole was burned through her chest and he saw the damaged carpeting beneath her. Unlike Philippe, though, this woman wasn't as shriveled, more bodily fluids had remained this time. The scent of charred flesh hung thick in the air along with the muffled sounds of sobs from the hallway. The scene was becoming all too familiar. "Her name was Rachel Goodkind." Sinjin dropped into a crouch beside him. "Her friend found her." "She's out in the hall?" He nodded. "I think we need to talk to her friend." Both men rose and exited the room. A slender young woman stood in the hall leaning against the wall, sobbing into her clenched fists. Alexandre eyed her critically. She was a young vampire of probably no more than twenty-five years. He approached her, touching her on the arm to get her attention. "Miss." She jerked her hands away from her eyes and lifted her watery gaze to his. She rubbed her palm over damp cheeks. "Martha," she stammered. "My name is Martha." "And I am Alexandre." He gave her a gentle smile. "Martha, I know you're upset. You've received quite a shock." He took her arm, led her to a small chest and settled her on it. "I have some questions I need to ask you." She sniffed. "Okay." "How old was your friend, in vampire years?" "About thirty." "Very good." He crouched beside her. "Has she been acting different lately?" She shrugged, her gaze dropping to her trembling hands in her lap. "Well, not really. I mean, she said that she'd met someone who was going to change her life." A jolt of anticipation shot through him. "Did she say who it was?"

"No." "Where did she meet this person?" "Bourbon Street. She'd gone to feed...uh, to dinner and came back one day last week telling me about him. She said he was going to make her stronger than ever before." "Did she explain what she meant by that?" She shrugged, clearly uneasy. "Not really. I assumed that he was an elder vampire." A rush of color shot under her skin and she met his gaze. "Like you maybe. I've heard that if a lesser vampire feeds from an elder, they can increase their abilities." He nodded. "It's true. Did she ever mention participating in this ritual?" She shook her head. "I'd just assumed. I mean, how else would a lesser vampire gain strength?" Indeed. "Had she been acting any different physically?" She frowned. "Well, she seemed anxious." She shrugged, her gaze dropping to her hands once more. "Rachel was always kind of keyed up, I guess. In the past few days she seemed more...well, more hyper." "How so?" "I've known her for ten years and she could never sit down. She was always on the go, had multiple projects going on at once. In the past few days, she was...manic. Rambling in her speech, pacing...even her sleep was off. She usually kept a normal sleep schedule, but it changed and she'd rise an hour or so before sunset. She didn't go out or anything, but it was unusual. I'm dead to the world until sunset." Indeed, this was unusual. Young vampires couldn't resist the lure of sleep as the sun began to rise. It pulled at their limbs like a leaden weight, sucking them into the safety of darkness until, once again, the sun set and it was safe to come out and play. Martha's watery sniffle brought him back to the present. "Did she seem depressed?" She shook her head. "No, she seemed excited about gaining more power, but she never told me how she was doing it. Anytime I brought it up she'd just wink and tell me that all would be revealed in time." She gave a weak chuckle. "Rachel loved to act mysterious." Her expression turned sad. "It looks like her time just ran out." Alexandre gave her arm a comforting squeeze. "That's all for now." He rose and stepped away half-afraid she'd burst into tears once more. "Thank you for your help." Sinjin gave him a sharp glance as he moved to help the young woman to her feet. "Yes, thank you, Martha. I know this has been a shock to you, but you've done all you can to help her for now."

Martha gave Sinjin a weak smile. "She was a good friend. You'll look into this? I have your promise?" He nodded and looped an arm around her shoulders to lead her toward the door as Alexandre turned away. He reentered the room; his gaze fixed on the remains of the dead vampire. What was it with these deaths? Was it murder? If so, how was it being accomplished? The concept of spontaneous human combustion wasn't foreign, but all of the evidence in a case such as that led to human error rather than someone simply bursting into flames. Suicide? According to Martha, Rachel was a happy woman with much to look forward to. What else could it be but murder? He now had four dead vampires on his hands, each appearing to die in the same fashion. The only difference was the site of damage was smaller with each victim. The first one, still unnamed, had been completely incinerated while the second had lost the majority of his torso. Philippe's torso was severely burned on the left side while the damage to Rachel was confined to a six-inch square area where her heart should have been. The puzzle still remained. What was causing these deaths?... "Dude, I heard you were-" Alexandre spun at the intrusion of a voice. Raphael stood in the doorway, an expression of horrified fascination on his face. "That'snasty . What happened to her?" Mentally, Alexandre kicked himself for allowing yet another vampire to sneak up unawares. A mistake like that was going to get him killed. He moved, blocking Raphael's line of sight. "What can I do for you?" "She asked me to give this to you." He held out a slender envelope and Alexandre couldn't help but notice the vampire's hand trembling. He reached for the offering, the warmth of the other man's hand brushing his skin as he took it. "Are you feeling well?" The young vampire gave a jittery smile as he moved back out the doorway, his movements agitated. "Right as rain," he trilled. "I think I got some bad blood. You know how hard it is to find a healthy meal, thanks to new blood diseases and drugs. I'm thinking of leaving New Orleans for a healthier place." He gave an exuberant laugh. "How about Aspen? Maybe Seattle?" He turned and headed toward the stairs, gesturing wildly as he walked. "I know, Sedona. The blood there might be thin due to the altitude, but it would certainly be healthy." Alexandre shook his head and opened the envelope, extracting a slim sheet of paper with Cass' distinctive scrawl.

I'll see you at one A.M. in Jackson Square tomorrow night. I'll be waiting by the fountain. -C

He glanced at the charred body. Could these deaths be connected to Cass in any way? Possible but unlikely. He looked at his watch. It was barely five A.M. He had plenty of time to get home and check on Sunni. He frowned. That needle mark on her arm had him a more than a little concerned.

Chapter 10 The night was electric. Sunni skipped down the street toward Alexandre's home, energy thrumming in her veins. She didn't know if it was the feeding or making love to Alexandre last night, but whatever it was, she hoped it never stopped. This was truly a day for new revelations. This evening, she'd awoken a full hour before sunset. She gave a delighted giggle. She didn't expect to be able to do that for several hundred more years. Feeding from Alexandre during their lovemaking must have given her this gift and she was thrilled. She knew that he was able to withstand limited amounts of sunshine due to his age. Oh, how she longed to feel the warmth of the sun on her skin once more. She even dreamed about it on a regular basis. When she'd awoken this evening, he'd already been gone, his side of the bed cool. She shivered at the thought of his masterful touch. She didn't know when he'd come back to bed last night, but she had a vague impression of sleeping in his arms. A rush of anticipation shot through her. With any luck, she would again. She turned the corner and hurried toward his house, skidding to a halt when she saw the gates to the driveway open. He was home. A silly grin curved her mouth as she broke into a run up the gravel drive. Shrouded in trees, Alexandre's property had a surprising amount of land considering it was in the middle of the city. The house was typical of New Orleans: a two level, perfectly square box with wrought iron balconies and a myriad of doors and windows for access to the outside. The landscaping was exquisite, but she paid it no mind as she barreled up the drive and headed for the front door. Stepping through, she flung her arms out and greeted the empty hall. "Honey, I'm home." She heard a muttered curse and footsteps as he approached and she fixed a bright smile on her face as he entered the hall. Damn, but he was handsome. Black trousers covered his magnificent legs; his shoes were a shiny Cole Haan. A white silk dress shirt was unbuttoned halfway, revealing his strong chest lightly sprinkled with dark hair. For once, his hair was unbound, curling on his shoulders. His expression was dark, heated. "Where have you been?" His low voice ignited a shiver along her nerves.

She leaned against the doorway opposite him. "I had to stop at the shop, make some changes to the books." "We need to talk." "I thought we were," she grinned. "I'm not the man you think I am." She blinked. Darn, he was serious... She nodded. "Okay." She pushed away from the wall and moved to a small Chippendale chair in the corner. "What would you like to talk about?" She sat and crossed her legs. He frowned and looked away, dragging his hand through his hair as if he didn't know where to start. I'm making him nervous... "Sunni, you don't know much about me-" "I know enough." "No, you don't." His tone was firm. "You look at me as some kind of hero and I'm not. I saved your life all those years ago because I was in the right place at the right time." He began to pace. "Yes, you were." She gave him an encouraging nod. "For that, I've always been grateful." "Grateful doesn't equal love, Sunni." She rolled her eyes. "I am well aware of that." "I can't live up to your expectations." She frowned. "Alexandre, I have no expectations of you-" "Do you realize that hundreds of people died because of me?" She blinked. What was he alluding to? Something was obviously bothering him and he needed to talk it out. She leaned forward. "I'm listening." He stopped pacing and sat on the steps, his expression unutterably weary. "When I was growing up, I belonged to a religious sect called the Albigenses. We disagreed with the Catholic Church and formed our own beliefs. The core was that, by refraining from physical pleasure and material goods, we would achieve absolution. There were two kinds of followers, Perfects and Believers. Perfects were required to forsake material possessions along with meat, milk, cheese, eggs and all sexual relations. Having been taught that the human body was created by the devil and only the soul was good, I'd grown up ignoring the temptations of flesh."

Sunni frowned. It sounded extreme to her, but she didn't comment. "After the murder of Peter de Castelnau, the Vatican's envoy, Pope Innocent the Third ordered the extermination of the sect. We knew they were coming for us and everyday we faithfully stationed lookouts around the town. We needed advance warning to get everyone to safety should de Montfort's army come for us next. "I was twenty-six years old and stationed to the north, and I was determined to fulfill my duty. But, also at that time, I was questioning everything I'd believed. I'd almost attained the level of a Perfect, but it wasn't sitting with me the way I felt it should. Something was missing- and then along came Ariana." Sunni swallowed, unsure she wanted him to continue, but she didn't interrupt. "She was beautiful and, even though I knew it was wrong, I wanted her. I kept telling myself that I could turn her from the path of ruin and teach her the joys of becoming a Perfect. Looking back, I know now that I wanted her more than I'd ever wanted anything in my life." No, she didn't want to hear his confession. A sick feeling invaded the hollow of her stomach. "I wanted to know what it felt like to make love to a woman even though it was forbidden." He ran his fingers through his hair once more, his expression lost. "I allowed her to lead me from my post and deep into the woods." He grew silent. "Ariana was a Believer, but she was prone to temptation. Believers weren't held to the same exacting standards that Perfects were. It was a given that, at some point in time, they too must forsake the consumption of animals and the temptations of the flesh or they could never achieve absolution. Consequently, I saw it as my duty to steer her away from temptation. But, instead of redeeming her, she nearly destroyed me. "Rather than teach her Jesus and enlightenment, she introduced me to the forbidden pleasures of rich wine and the sins of the flesh. Once she touched me, that was it. We-" he swallowed hard "-had sex three times that afternoon. And with each act, my confusion grew. How could something that felt so good be sinful?" "So you screwed your brains out," she said. He gave a short, choking laugh, his expression rueful. "Yeah, we screwed our brains out. As I wandered the woods alone, I saw my future with the sect. They were, in all ways that counted, my family. But now that I'd tasted sin, I wanted more so I decided to leave. I couldn't remain with them when my heart no longer agreed with their teachings. However, I never got the chance to speak. When I returned to my post, the village had been destroyed, the buildings burning before my eyes." She gulped. "And the people?" "Dead, all dead. Perfects and Believers alike, slaughtered like cattle. The women and children had been dumped into wells to foul the water with their rotting flesh. The men had been lined up and killed, one by one, their bodies pinned to the ground with massive pikes, their eyes and tongues cut out and burned. What animals hadn't been taken were slaughtered and the town razed. "I spent days digging a mass grave in which to bury the men. I filled the wells rather than attempt to retrieve the women and children. I denied myself food and drink and prayed for hours. And, for the first time in my life, I heard nothing. No answer. No response. It was as if God were punishing me for my

tryst with Ariana by killing my family and leaving me to suffer alone." And he would live with this for the rest of his life. Sorrow pierced Sunni's body and she closed her eyes under the weight of it. "I can't save you, Sunni. And I can't save the Shadow Dwellers." She opened her eyes, her gaze fixing on the man before her. "You don't have to save me, Alexandre. I don't need to be saved." She rose. "As for the preternaturals, you'll do the best you can and that's all anyone can ask." He raised his head. "And if they die?" "Then they die knowing that you gave your all for them...for us." He shook his head. "I can't live with that again-" "You can, and you will." She approached, dropping to the floor between his spread knees. "But you won't fail this time." His expression turned incredulous. "I just told you-" She caught his hand and, turning it palm up, she placed a kiss in the center. She felt the tremor that ran through his arm. "You made a mistake, a serious mistake. Humans make mistakes, Alexandre. They aren't perfect." He made a disbelieving noise and she pressed on. He needed to hear her and take it to heart. "You aren't perfect. If you'd known what would happen, would you have left your post?" "No." "You made a decision. Be it right or wrong, you made that decision and you've had to live with the consequences of it for hundreds of years. How much longer will you beat yourself up over this?" He was silent. "Let it go and salvage what you can. You now have the chance to make amends by saving the Shadow Dwellers. The fate of our world hangs in the hands of a few, and you're one of them." He looked pained. "I have faith in you." She leaned forward, moving her face directly into his line of vision. "We have faith in you and the Council." She rose, standing a few scant inches from him, yet still sheltered between his knees. "If you can embrace that man, that imperfect man, then come to me. If you can't..." She moved around him and up the stairs, her heart thudding with each step away from him. More than anything, she wanted to go back, crawl in his lap and embrace him until his fear subsided. But she knew he wouldn't accept such an overture. Whether he admitted it or not, she knew him well. The bed was still in disarray when she entered. Pausing to straighten the sheets and cover, the scent of their lovemaking rose to tantalize her senses. Her heart gave a little jerk, the house silent and waiting

around her. Turning away from the bed, she moved to open the French doors leading to the balcony. The humid New Orleans night swept into the room. "I am an imperfect man." She stilled as his words poured over her skin. She closed her eyes in silent thanks before turning to face him. "And I'm an imperfect woman." "Before we go any further, I need you to know that there'll be times when I'll let you down." Silent, she nodded. "Times I'll hurt you even though I don't mean to." She nodded once more, her heart in her throat as he visibly relaxed. He looked exhausted and she ached to take him into her arms, but she didn't move. "I don't know that I can do this." He waved his hand and she wasn't sure if he meant them or the situation with the Council. Either one, she knew he could, hewas the man she thought he was. "You can do it. You can win this time. You just have to believe in yourself like we do." She gave him a gentle smile. "I think you'll surprise yourself." She raised a hand, lightly trailing a finger along the beveled edge of a small table that stood next to her. "Are you...hungry?" She shifted, allowing the strap of her shirt to slide off one shoulder. She raised her gaze, meeting his tortured one. "Yes," he whispered. She moved toward him, keeping her pace deliberate, sensual. "What are you hungry for?" She trailed one finger along the lacy edge of her blouse, barely touching her skin. He licked his lips and didn't respond; his gaze fixed on her hand. "Would you prefer to feed?" She ran her finger along her throat, as if to call his attention to the area where her pulse beat for him. "Or would you prefer me, naked, in your bed?" She stopped mere inches in front of him, her body fairly humming with desire. Now that she'd had a taste of him, she was addicted. "I've already fed." His voice was hoarse. Sunni smiled and turned away, heading to the bed. "I guess that answers my question." She added a little come-hither twitch to her walk as she moved, but her toe caught in the hem of her skirt and she stumbled. Throwing her hands out, she narrowly missed falling on her face, landing instead on the cedar chest at the foot of the bed. She twisted and sat with a rueful smile. "So much for being the femme fatale." Alexandre moved into the room and took her hand to pull her upward, his smile still a little sad. "What am I going to do with you?" She laced her arms around his neck and leaned into him, relishing the hard length and warmth of him against her. "Make love to me anyway?" she asked hopefully.

"Of course." Before she could move, he bent at the waist and swept her into his arms. "Why, Rhett," she cooed in a sickly-sweet accent, "I didn't know you cared." He gave her a gentle pat on the backside. "Behave, Miss Scarlett, or you'll end up in serious trouble." "You promise?" she purred. "Oh yes." He deposited her on the edge of the bed and she scrambled onto her knees. She reached and tangled her fingers in his hair as she forced his head back, losing herself in his midnight eyes. There was such passion and pain in his sapphire depths. She'd never met a man of such iron will yet in possession of such a generous heart that he was so completely unaware of. That, she could show him. "You take my breath away," she whispered. His expression turned startled. "You give me breath." He raised his hand, tracing the bones of her cheek, then down her jaw as if to memorize every inch of her face. She closed her eyes, reveling in the feel of his fingertips across her flesh. She tipped her head back as he stroked the sensitized skin of her throat, her collarbones. Each movement as delicate as a butterfly kiss. "You're so warm," he whispered. She opened her eyes, raising her head. "You make me warm." She reached for the buttons on his shirt, making short work of them. She ran her fingers over the sculpted muscles of his chest, her fingers brushing his flat nipples and eliciting a soft hiss. His hands dropped to her waist to tug at the hem of her shirt. Silently, she raised her arms, allowing him to pull the material up and off her unresisting body. The gris-gris hung between her breasts and it felt strangely warm as she tossed it carelessly over her shoulder. She sighed as the moist night air touched her skin to be followed by the heat of his mouth. She leaned back as he feasted on her breasts, first one, then the other. She made a sound of dissent when he stopped, his head rising to take her mouth. Pulled into close contact with his chest, she nibbled at his mouth, her nipples receiving their own torment from wiry hair. Their kiss was slow, sensual, a dance of seduction rather than a need to devour. Their tongues tangled as their hands quested, stroking exposed skin while seeking to expose more. Her hands dipped into the waistband of his pants as his slipped down to cup her buttocks, rubbing her against his erection. She wouldn't be able to wait much longer. She freed him, her hands stroking his long, turgid length even as he nibbled at her lower lip. His hands pushed her skirt down, forcing her to release him as she removed it. Gently, he urged her onto her back, her thighs parting easily as he moved between them, pausing only to remove his pants. Her gaze on his intent face, she realized that this moment wasn't about sex, it was a

bonding. Reverence humbled her and her throat tightened. Reaching for him, she took him in hand, stroking his shaft, awed as she watched him lengthen. Guiding, she brought him to her entrance, showing him the way home. He entered her with a gentle thrust, their limbs tangling as they moved together. Her eyes drifted shut, her concentration only on the man and the tide of feeling he was generating with each movement. Tension was a slow build, relaxed and sure. He hummed in delight as she stroked the back of his calves with her feet. She smiled, arching her body to take him deeper. Then something damp hit her forehead and pulled her from her sybaritic lair. She blinked, her eyes resting on her lover's face. He was crying. Eyes closed, Alexandre moved within her, a dreamy expression on his face while tears seeped from beneath his eyelids. Her throat tightened as she raised her hand to her own face, wiping away his tears. Bringing her hand to her mouth, she tasted the salt and blood of his pain as her eyes stung. Within moments, he came, spreading heat throughout her womb before relaxing, his arms coming to rest against her. She guided his head for a kiss that was both absolution and acceptance, her heart full.

Reluctantly, Alexandre retreated from their bed, leaving Sunni sound asleep. She lay on her back, her arm outstretched, and his eyes zeroed in on the tiny bruise. It was still there. Odd, it should have healed by now, as vampires were notorious for their ability to heal themselves. Unless it was a new one? Sunni wouldn't be injecting herself with something, would she? He glanced at the clock, tempted to wake her. Damn, it was twelve-thirty and he had only a half-hour to dress and meet Cass. Throwing one last look at his lover, he made a note to talk to her about it when he returned.

Chapter 11 She was as beautiful as he remembered. Cass stood silhouetted against the bay, the moon gilding her dark hair with silver highlights. Her profile was as chiseled as a cameo. Dressed in a cream silk pantsuit with a simple gold chain about her neck, she looked like a prosperous doctor's wife, more suited to the local garden club or PTA then standing in Jackson Square at one A.M.

She turned as he approached. "Hello Alexandre." She gave him a small smile. "It's good to see you." "Cass." Her smile faded. "I've missed you." He didn't buy the meek-miss she was attempting to portray. "You should have thought of that before you deceived me." A flash of irritation crossed her features before she masked it. She was a master of deception and she commanded her expressions and emotions like a symphonic conductor. He wasn't impressed. "I've made some mistakes." She held her hand out, palm up. "I've come to ask your forgiveness." "And?" She looked perplexed. "And what?" "What else do you want?" "There is nothing else." "Cass, you and I have known each other too many years, so don't think you can fool me. I know that you don't do anything unless there's something in it for you. Quit wasting my time and get to the point." A sharp smile curved her mouth and her meek demeanor fell away like autumn leaves in a breeze. She gave a small laugh. "You're still quick, I see. I have a proposition for you, Alexandre. How would you like to rule the preternaturals with me by your side once more?" Not on your life. "I'm already the head of the Council. What do I need you for?" "Power. The one thing the Council never had was a standing army. We may have made the laws, but we couldn't enforce them well." "We had no need to 'enforce' them as we had few problems over the years. Yes, someone stepped out of line and went rogue, but they were dealt with effectively enough." He shook his head. "We have no need for an army. They all realize that without some form of law all would be lost, so they govern themselves quite well." "Not well enough or Mikhail would have never ambushed you," she sneered. "He almost succeeded. If he'd had a proper army, you'd be nothing more than a memory now." He crossed his arms over his chest. What she said was true. If Mikhail's army hadn't scattered at the first sign of confrontation, he and Fayne would be long dead and Mikhail would have control of the Council. He shuddered at the thought of the havoc his demented foe could have wrecked upon the innocents. "And you can give me this army?" "I can, indeed, for I have Elsabeth's diary."

The diary. He forced his arms to relax and slid his hands in his pockets, feigning nonchalance. "What does the diary contain?" "Many, many things, one of which is a serum to create the ultimate vampire warrior." She shrugged. "Of course, we're still working on it as we haven't perfected the formula. We've had some success and some failure." He stilled, tension crawling under his skin. He fought to keep his voice calm. "What does the serum do?" "Increases a vampire's natural abilities. It robs them of the desire to think for themselves and they evolve into the ultimate killing machine." She shrugged. "We've found, as long as their needs are met, they are ours to command." His stomach sank. "How does it increase their ability?" "I'm not sure how it works, but so far we've taken relatively young vampires and successfully increased their abilities. Made them stronger, tougher." Cass began to pace, her movements excited as she spoke. "We took a few vampires of about thirty years, gave them the serum, and within twenty-four hours they'd doubled their physical strength, their psychic abilities and they required less sleep. A couple more trials and I'll have the power to create a limitless supply of warriors for our command." "How is the serum administered?" She waved her hand. "A small injection, no big deal." A sense of dread expanded in his gut. "No big deal?" he asked. She turned to him, her expression disgusted. "Oh really. What's the price of a few young vampires when we've got something really big here? The world is filled with hapless mortals we can transform at will, it really isn't a big deal." "You said that you've had some failures. What kind of failures?" A crafty smile curved her mouth. "It seems that, given in the wrong percentages and doses, the vampires actually burn themselves out. The serum appears to age the subject, thus granting the subject enhanced abilities. Some of our earlier experiments literally caught fire." Images of charred bodies crowded his mind, followed by the unearthly sound of Martha's heartbroken sobs over the body of her friend, Rachel. He bit his tongue, the taste of blood ripe in his mouth, as panic threatened to swamp him. Unaware, Cass continued. "We've progressed, though. We have one subject who's lasted almost four days and he's still going strong." A cool calm entered her eyes. "We also have another subject that we have very high hopes for. A young vampire of sixty years and it appears she'll be The One to show us the way."

"You're mad." He ground the words between clenched teeth. "You cannot play with people's lives like this." "Of course I can," she laughed. "Who's going to stop me?" "I will." "No, you won't, for I have something you need." "And that would be?" "The antidote for the serum." She withdrew a slim vial with an ornate silver cap attached to a chain around her neck. The liquid glowed eerie pink in the darkness. She waggled it in the air. "How else will you save your little girlfriend if you don't have this?" Sunni. Alexandre froze-a sensation of doom in his stomach. He'd been right. The bruise and the needle mark. She'd been injected. Anger surged and he struggled to keep his expression cool. Letting Cass see his wrath wouldn't save Sunni. "What do you want from me?" "You by my side as we resume the leadership of the Council together." She smiled as she moved around him, her heels making sharp clicks on the pavement. "With you by my side, I'll achieve the legitimacy needed to resume my seat." "That's all?" "Oh, and I want you, in my bed." She laughed. "What you lack in experience, you more than make up in stamina." She gave him a mocking look. "Must be a by-product of all those years of celibacy." "Done. Now give me the antidote." "Ah, ah, ah - not quite yet." Cass withheld the bottle. "First we make the formal announcement. Once I've regained my seat, then you can have the antidote." "What's to stop me from just taking it from you?" He stepped closer, gratified to see her take a step back. "Miles." She inclined her head to the left and the revenant stepped from the shadows. In his hand he held a .45 automatic pointed at Alexandre's chest. While guns couldn't actually kill him, they would certainly slow him long enough for her to get away. He was trapped...for now. Cass smiled triumphantly. "Tomorrow, midnight. We can use Sinjin's club to make the announcement." She turned away, motioning Miles to follow. "'Til then, lover." Her laughter filled the humid air as she walked away.

Alexandre stared at the darkened bay, anger, frustration and terror churning in his gut. Sunni was at stake. Damn, why didn't he force her to leave New Orleans earlier? You can't save everyone. No, but he'd better damn well figure out how to save her. Now that he'd found her, he couldn't bear to lose her. A faint ringing sounded from his pocket. Irritated, he grabbed the cell phone. "Saint-Juste here," he growled. "We have another one." It was Sinjin. Alexandre's heart stopped.Not Sunni. Not yet... Sinjin continued, "A man." He gave the address and Alexandre barely heard him. Thank the gods. He jerked back to awareness. "Can you repeat the address?" Sinjin did once more and Alexandre noted it wasn't far from where he was. "I'll be there in ten minutes." Praying silently, he disconnected and shoved the phone back into his pocket. He had less than twenty-four hours to devise a plan to save the woman he loved and the preternatural world as they now knew it.

Chapter 12 Sunni fingered the gris-gris, twisting the cord around her fingers only to release it before twisting it again. Where the devil was that shop? She walked quickly down the alley, nerves on edge as she darted quick glances in the darkened shop windows. Where was Mambo Cecile's shop? Her hand tightened around the bag, its contents grinding against one another and the scent of crushed rosemary teasing her nose. Something was wrong, terribly wrong-she could feel it. Not only could she not find the shop, she couldn't sleep. Her body refused to rest and she felt like she was jumping out of her skin. When she'd awakened, Alexandre had been gone and she'd been left with the realization that she was now physically twice as strong as she'd been a few days ago. She'd come down the outside steps and, upon reaching the bottom, had tried to swing around the balustrade only to have the wrought iron straighten beneath her hand as if it were warm butter. Her heart beat wildly in her chest while a sense of panic threatened to swamp her. What was happening? Was it related to the night Miles had lured her to the alley?

Her inner elbow began to itch and absently she scratched it, all the while continuing her zigzag journey down the street. She still couldn't remember all of what happened that night. But she knew with a certainty that she needed Mambo Cecile, that the voodun priestess could help put the pieces of the puzzle back in order. Until then, she would just keep searching.

"His name's Luke Sanderson." Alexandre dropped into a crouch by the vampire's body. Luke lay face down on the floor with a fist-sized hole in his back, roughly in the same area of his heart. The edges were neatly singed, his flesh incinerated. The floor beneath him was scorched and black, his ribcage intact. "Who was he?" "A local nobody. He was new to town." Alexandre gave a silent prayer for the dead vampire's soul before he rose to face Sinjin. "I found out this evening what is going on." He told Sinjin about his meeting with Cass and her ultimatum. "Sunni?" Sinjin's voice was shaken. He gave a silent nod. "She was targeted thanks to her relationship with me." Sinjin's eyes narrowed but he said nothing. "Cass wants a sort of town hall meeting tomorrow at your club. She wants to announce our union. After that she'll give me the antidote for Sunni." "Do ye believe her?" "No. I think she wants Sunni to die. She wants to hurt me." He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. "The problem is that Cass has the diary, and I assume both the serum and the antidote recipes are contained in it. Whether I like it or not, she holds all the cards at this point." "You canna just let Sunni die," Sinjin said. Alexandre glared his friend. "I have no intention of letting anything happen to her, damn it. We need to find out what's in that serum and, to do that, we need blood from Sunni and a qualified lab tech to analyze the results." "We don't have that kind of time. We have less than twenty-four hours to come up with a solution or Cass will win. No only will Sunni lose, but the world as we now know it will cease to exist." Alexandre dropped his head, the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders and, for a split second, a sense of panic swept over him. He took a deep breath and Sunni's words sounded in his mind. "You can do it, you can win this time. You just have to believe it." He took a deep breath then released it, the panic fading slowly. She was right, he would win this time, he had no choice.

"I've been w-w-what?" Sunni sat down hard on the edge of a small table, knocking a variety of tattoo designs on the floor. "You've been injected with a serum meant to increase your powers, to turn you into a warrior." She shuddered as she ran her hands over her arms. Her skin felt strangely warm, far too warm considering she hadn't fed today, and her insides felt twitchy. Images flashed before her eyes-of an alley and Mile's face leaning over her. Of the glint of light off a slim needle as he hovered near. She shuddered again. "I thought it was a bad dream," she whispered. She rubbed a spot on the inside of her arm as a slow itch began deep beneath her skin. "Sun-" She held up her hand to stem the flow of words. "Why me?" She raised her gaze to the man she loved. "Why did she pick me?" "Because of me. She wished to get back at me, make me dance to her tune." Alexandre leaned against the tattoo chair, his expression exhausted. Fine lines bracketed his mouth as he ran his hand through his hair once more. "What am I going to do?" She was dismayed to hear the wobble in her voice so she cleared her throat. "What are we going to do?" "I don't know yet. For now, she holds all the cards. Sinjin is looking for her lair. We're hoping to get to her through Miles." "Am I going to die?" He shoved out of the chair, advancing on her. "No. We're going to try a transfusion. If we rid you of the tainted blood, we're hoping we can reverse some of the effects of the serum." Panic gnawed within her chest. "That seems awful nebulous." "For now, we don't know what else we can try." Frustration and anger laced his words. Sunni closed her eyes, slowly wilting as the sun began it's inexorable ascent. She couldn't resist the lure of the darkness calling her to her lair. Exhaustion pulled at her and she wobbled on her precarious perch. Alexandre reached her side and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his embrace. She sighed and rubbed her face against his shirt, relishing the familiar scent of his skin, his heartbeat comforting in her ear. She could have had an eternity in his arms and now, in a matter of hours, she could lose it all. "I've only just found you," she whispered against his shirtfront. "Don't let her win. Don't let her part us now. I need you to be my hero once more..." Alexandre's grip tightened as she slipped into her dark sleep, her body limp in his arms. Around the

edges of the dark window shades, narrow strips of light filtered in, heralding the sunrise. For the first time in his life, he cursed the coming morning. Time was slipping away and, taking with it, Sunni's life.

"It's done." Her medical bag in one hand, Sasha exited the inner sanctum where Sunni now slept. Alexandre looked at the fey redhead. Who would have thought that the tattooed and pierced young woman was a pre-med student at Tulane University? "I drained her, then gave her almost ten pints of O negative blood. She's still asleep. Will she sleep until the sun sets?" Alexandre nodded. "She should. In vampire years, Sunni is young and her biorhythms are still tied to the sun." Sasha shook her head. "It's so unbelievable. I mean, Sunni told me she was a vampire. She even showed me when I didn't believe her. It just never occurred to me that her world could have such upheaval and destruction. I mean, you guys have it all." "How so?" "You have immortal life. You're literally a witness to history as it unfolds. How cool is that?" Her eyes were shining with excitement. "True. We're also prey to those who wish to take advantage of our powers. We lose those we love as they age and die while we remain young. We're subject to long, lonely years of existence in the darkness and we feed on the life blood of others." He shook his head as the light in her eyes dimmed. "The immortality side is interesting, but the drawbacks are plentiful as well. We don't get our cake and eat it too. Just look at your friend. She could lose her life due to the greed and corruption of another." Her expression grew solemn. "I understand what you're saying. Being human or vampire has its good aspects, but both have as many shortcomings." She laid her hand on his crossed arms. The warmth of her touch spread along his skin, the very humanness of her surrounding him. Her pale green eyes met his, her expression earnest. "Take care of her as Sunni is very dear to me." She further stunned him by brushing a quick kiss across his cheek before slipping to exit the room. His skin tingled with the warmth of this extraordinary human. He approached the door leading into Sunni's lair. His gaze swept her chamber, lit by a single candle. Persian rugs covered the floor; the walls were painted a light color that was indistinguishable in the candlelight. Bookshelves covered one end of the room, stuffed full of tattered paperbacks, hardbacks and leather-clad tomes. A comfortable chair sat in front of the shelves beside a small table with a vase of yellow roses. He picked up the paperback, smiling when he saw it wasPride and Prejudice . There was much more to Sunni than met the eye. He scanned the titles of the books arrayed on the shelves. His brow arched at the sight of a well-thumbed book by his favorite French poet. He scanned the next shelf crammed with German philosophy, eastern mysticism, and impressionistic art. He grinned when he caught sight of a romance novel tucked between Freud andThe Art of War . He turned to gaze upon the woman asleep in the bed on the other side of the room.

He'd misjudged her. He'd been so caught by what he thought she was-an airhead with no substance-that he'd failed to see who she really was. Her clothing, her zest for life and how she made her living had fooled him. He'd misjudged her spirit, preferring to see her externally rather than digging inside for the true woman. He approached the bed. Asleep, she looked frail, her skin winter pale against the cream- colored sheets. She was amazing and he was head over heels in love with her. Humbled, he lightly skimmed her cheek, her skin cool to touch. Relieved, exhaustion pulled at his eyes and he dreaded going home to his empty house. Empty because she wasn't there. He needed a few hours of shut-eye and then he'd feel as right as rain, able to face what stood before him. He shed his shoes and stretched beside her, not touching, yet taking comfort in her presence as he closed his eyes.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Cass ignored Miles as she filled the syringe with serum from an earlier, failed batch. "I'm hedging my bets. If Alexandre double crosses me, I'll kill him." She set down the bottle and capped the needle. "Give this to Gerard and tell him to inject Alexandre upon my command." Miles was clearly reluctant as he reached for the syringe. "Are you sure the antidote works?" "Oh yes, it works but we'll never need it." She smiled as Miles' fingers curled around the shaft. She didn't let go, causing Miles to lift his gaze to hers. "He'd better not fail me."

Chapter 13 The Chat Noir was packed to the rafters with every type of preternatural imaginable. Sunni was glad that many of the Shadow Dwellers had left New Orleans or she wouldn't have fit into the building. She noted with interest that several werewolves had made an appearance. Three men, clad in leather and resembling bikers, stood nearest the door, their gazes alert as they watched the proceedings. Across the room was a group of werecats, hissing and throwing uneasy glances at the wolves who seemed oblivious to the stir their presence created. She rubbed her stomach, feeling queasy, and she was terribly jittery. She wrapped a trembling hand around the gris-gris-the startling sensation which poured from the amulet was what had awoken her an hour before. It felt as if a low voltage current ran down her arm, urging her to move. The closer she got to the Chat Noir, the stronger the sensation became, almost as if the charm were urging her forward toward something that awaited her. Not questioning the feeling, she threaded her way through the crowd, looking for familiar faces. She nodded to a few people she knew, but didn't stop to speak. Then a

particular face caught her attention, stopping her in her tracks. A witch? Here? Quinn Montgomery sat near the stage, his fingers laced with the hand of a woman who sat by his side. Maeve. Sunni smiled when she caught sight of the redhead. A few months back, they'd all been involved in the latest upheaval in the preternatural world. Quinn was the son of Mortianna, one of the most powerful witches to ever walk on earth. After Maeve had made the disastrous mistake of believing Mortianna's lies, the witch had tried to use Maeve to replace her dead daughter and had unknowingly given her the greatest powers a witch could ever hope to possess. If what Sunni had heard was true, then she was standing in the same room as the most powerful witch on the planet and she wasn't referring to Quinn. But Maeve was reticent to talk about her experiences and Sunni hadn't pressed her for information. Alexandre walked onstage and into the awareness of everyone in the room. Her heart swelled as she watched him cross the stage, every Armani-clad inch of him appearing self-assured. His gaze swept the crowd, stilling the spectators, before meeting hers. She smiled, trying to put all of her love and pride into that smile. He stepped from the stage onto the main floor, people parting as he approached. "You shouldn't be here." His expression was remote. She stuck her chin out. "Well, I am and I'm not leaving." His mouth tightened. "I hope you have the good sense to beat a hasty retreat when things turn ugly." "I won't be treated like a child, Alexandre," she shot back. "I'm a woman who can take care of herself." "Hmm." He captured her arm and steered her to Quinn's table. "Keep an eye on her will you?" He pushed her into an empty chair. "She has the misguided belief that she can help." She jumped up from the chair. "I can-" "Sit." He shoved her back down, leaning over her to prevent her from rising. "Stay," he growled. "I have enough to do without having to worry about you." He gave her a quick, hard kiss on the mouth before walking away. Sunni started to rise, but stopped when a hand on her arm restrained her. She turned to snarl at Quinn and he appeared undisturbed by her show of teeth. "He has enough worries without you distracting him," he said. She shook his hand off and turned, presenting both he and Maeve with her back. She scowled at Alexandre's retreating figure. Damn fool! "Good evening." Her lover stood in the center of the dance floor, his back to the stage. The house lights were up so no

spotlight was needed to see him clearly. "I've called this meeting to discuss recent developments that all of you should be aware of as they will affect our entire world." He paused, scanning the audience as if to ensure everyone's undivided attention. "First, I'd like to acknowledge someone who needs no introduction. May I present, Cassiopeia." As he spoke, Cass stepped onto the stage and whispers raced through the crowd. Clad in a black Chanel suit and a strand of fat pearls, she was a picture of maidenly decorum. Whispers rippled as she advanced across the stage, a benign smile curving her mouth while her eyes remained dark, cool. Behind her were six massive male vampires, none of whom Sunni recognized. Miles brought up the rear. His eyes watchful, he scanned the crowd as his mistress approached Alexandre. He barely spared Sunni a glance. Anger sprang to life at his non-acknowledgement. The infernal man had tried to kill her only two days prior. It would behoove him to at least acknowledge her presence. "I'm sure that everyone is curious as to why I've gathered you here this evening." The crowd stilled as Alexandre continued. "As most of you are aware, there was a challenge to my rule by Mikhail and his consorts." He glanced at Cass. "This challenge cost lives and was summarily defeated. "At that time, death warrants were issued for Mikhail, Cassiopeia, Edward and their followers. Edward is now dead." More whispers flowed through the crowd. "For the past few months, we've been looking for the others when Cass approached me a day ago." He moved toward the stage as he spoke. "Her proposition is to join forces-she and I-on the Council as we did once before. However, this time she brings an army with her." More voices, this time louder. Sunni glanced at Cass to see a beatific smile on her face as she looked around the room at the assemblage. "Why do we need an army?" "Who would be in this army?" "Good questions, both of which will be answered shortly," Alexandre interjected, once again bringing silence to the crowd. "As some of you may have heard, there've been a rash of mysterious vampire deaths in New Orleans. These deaths varied little. The victims died by fire, but they weren't trapped in the sunlight nor were they set on fire. It looked like spontaneous combustion and, in a way, it was true. Their hearts ignited in their chests, killing them." Whispers raced once more and he made no attempt to hush them. Sunni noted with some satisfaction that Cass was beginning to look annoyed as she looked from Alexandre to Miles. "What caused these deaths?" Someone called from the back of the room.

He smiled. "I was hoping someone would ask that very question. A serum introduced into their bloodstream caused the deaths. The purpose of this serum is to enhance a vampire's powers. One victim was thirty, yet had the powers of a two-hundred-year-old." Rustlings of unease joined the murmurs. Cass stepped forward. "I really don't see what these unfortunate incidents have to do with-" What's purpose of this experiment?" called a young woman. "To create a vampire army with which to rule the underworld. A desire to create a mindless army robbed of its will and victimized by its enhanced powers. They could be used to enforce this person's will upon all of us." The volume grew louder and Sunni saw Sinjin working through the crowd toward Alexandre. "Who did this? Who's responsible for this despicable thing?" A shrill voice rose above the throng. Cass stepped back and snarled something at Alexandre as Miles moved to the door at the rear of the stage. She turned to leave when Alexandre locked his hand around her wrist. He yanked her off the stage and onto the dance floor beside him. She staggered as she clawed at his grip, cutting bloody furrows in his hand, yet he didn't flinch. "May I present-" Someone screamed and the crowd parted. Sunni turned to see someone shuffling toward Alexandre and Cass. Her eyes widened as she recognized Raphael. His gait was odd, uneven, as he shambled toward them. "Murderer," he hissed. His skin was gray, slick with blood-tinged sweat. He shook with each step as he grew closer. Then he raised his arm and pointed at Cass. "You've killed me," he denounced. "You killed the others." He took a deep breath and it was noisy, like the death rattle of an old emphysemic man. "You must kill her." His eyes rolled back in his head and he swayed. He clamped his hand over the area of his heart as a puff of smoke appeared between his fingers and he collapsed. Sunni ran to his side, ignoring the slack-jawed observers as she rolled him to his back. Within seconds, flames shot from his chest, forcing her away. The scent of scorched flesh permeated the air as the fire burned a neat hole where his heart should have been. Then, miraculously, it extinguished itself. And Raphael was dead. Just like that. Appalled, Sunni placed her hand over her own heart. Would she die the same way? The blood transfusion had lessened her symptoms but some remained still. Was there an antidote? Her stomach rolled and she looked at Alexandre. He was staring at Raphael, his expression saddened. Unobtrusively, Cass caught the gaze of one of her vampires and she gave him a subtle nod. Sunni

watched as he approached her distracted lover. Reaching into his pocket, the thug withdrew a syringe. A scream caught in her throat as she hurtled across the room. The vampire raised his hand to plunge the needle into Alexandre as she threw herself between them. She barely felt the bite of the steel but she saw the vampire's eyes widen as he realized his mistake. But it was too late, she'd already taken the poison. Alexandre screamed her name as her knees gave way and she fell, the club erupting in chaos. The werewolves leapt onto the stage with a few werecats joining them a heartbeat later, and the sound of battle roared overhead. Sunni saw Maeve trying to make her way toward her. A body flying off the stage blocked her progress as a dead vampire landed at her feet, his throat missing. People were scrambling for the front door while others backed away from the crush, reluctant to leave the spectacle yet reluctant to lend their aid. Sinjin and Quinn ran for the stage yelling Miles' name. Sunni's head swam as she pulled the syringe from her shoulder to drop it to the floor. She rolled to her back in time to see Alexandre grappling with Cass. With his free hand, he grabbed the vampire by the back of her neck, forcing her to her knees. Then Alexandre raised his head and nodded at Maeve. Clearly torn, she glanced at Sunni and she weakly waved to show that she was okay. Maeve nodded and joined Alexandre, who still struggled with Cass. He'd released her wrist but retained his grip on her neck, keeping her on the floor in an awkward, hunched position. She flailed, trying to grab anything but Alexandre's much longer arms kept him out of reach. A young woman moved in close, reaching for something around the vampire's neck. Sasha! What was her partner doing here? Silver caught the light as she grabbed the pendant and snapped the chain, causing Cass to jerk. Sasha flashed a triumphant grin as she pocketed the charm and melted back into the seething crowd. Cass managed to raise her head just enough to glare at Alexandre, her teeth bared. "I will destroy you." He gave her a mocking bow, his eyes hard. "I relish the challenge." Maeve reached his side, her expression steady until he nodded. Sunni forced herself upright, resting her back against the stage, unable to manage more than simply sitting and watching. The sounds of battle faded with one last, heavy thud from the stage as Maeve circled the pair. She withdrew a small bag and reached inside for a pinch of the contents. As she walked, she spoke in low tones, words in a foreign language. The preternaturals grew still as the tension in the room increased. Sunni's hand curled around the gris-gris, the bag familiar in her palm. When Maeve nodded, Alexandre stepped away from Cass. On her knees, the vampire was held immobile by Maeve's spell. Only her eyes, dark with venomous rage, followed Alexandre. The werewolves climbed off the stage, their movements sleek and stealthy. One, a tall blond, crouched by her side. "Are you hurt?" She shook her head. "I don't think so."

He gave her a reassuring grin and picked her up to set her on the edge of the stage. She swayed and he sat beside her so she wouldn't fall. She was grateful for his support. Alexandre looked over as he stepped away from Cass. She gave him a shaky nod and a faint smile, which he returned. Sinjin and Quinn returned through the main door, their expressions troubled. Quinn shook his head at Alexandre and mouthed the word, "No," while Sinjin approached Sunni. He dropped beside her and gave her a hard kiss on the temple. "You fool," he hissed. He dropped an arm around her shoulder and gave her a bone-crushing hug. "Will you never learn to think before you leap?" "No," she mumbled against his shirt. "I was coerced into doing this tonight." Alexandre was speaking to the restless crowd. "Cass' plan was to announce a union between her and me as her greatest desire has always been to lead the Council of Elders. As most of you know, she joined with Mikhail to overthrow the Council. When that bid failed, you can see how she's tried to worm her way back into her former position of power." His gaze swept the crowd, lighting on Sunni for a mere moment before continuing. "She injected a vampire with the serum two days ago, hoping to blackmail me into announcing our union. But that plan backfired when, with the help of a human, we tried a complete blood transfusion to delay, possibly reverse some of the effects. Of course, now that we have the antidote, never again will we be held hostage by such a threat." Alexandre turned to face Cass. "Seven months ago, I decreed that you would be put to death for your treason upon the Council. Your actions in the past few weeks have only reinforced the fact that you're a danger to the Shadow Dwellers and our way of life. You've caused the deaths of countless innocents and, for that, it's long past time your sentence is carried out." Finally, he can put his demons to rest and reaffirm his position as the Head of the Council. A slender young woman appeared carrying a sword. Light glinted off the deadly blade as she offered it to Alexandre. He accepted it and Sunni caught the scent of Cass' fear as he approached her. "By order of the Council, I hereby sentence you to death," Alexandre said. "Do you have any last words?" "This isnot over." "Ah, but it is for you." "Go to hell," she spat. "You first. Where I'm sending you, never again will you harm another innocent. In death, may you find the peace that you never had in life." He raised the sword. "Stop."

A ripple went through the crowd as a figure clad in white approached. Sunni's eyes widened when she saw Mambo Cecile. Her skin resembled café au lait against the blinding white of her dress. Her dark eyes were fixed on Cass, her expression triumphant. "She is mine." The priestess tore her gaze from the vampire. "I am Mambo Cecile." Alexandre lowered the sword. "Should I know you?" She laughed, clapping her hands as if his words were no more than she'd expected. "No, white man, you would not know me for I inhabited New Orleans long before you set foot in America. The only thing you need to know is that I aided your woman in her journey with the gris-gris she now holds so dear." Sunni forced herself to release the little bag when Alexandre looked at her. Mambo Cecile nodded toward Cass. "She and I, we have a long past." She smiled and this time it wasn't pleasant. "You remember me, don't you, my pretty?" The captive vampire didn't move, seemingly struck dumb, but her eyes revealed her terror. Faint sounds emanated from her throat. Cecile looked around the room, her gaze centering on Maeve. "Witch, I ask that you release her." Maeve's brow raised and she looked to Alexandre, who nodded imperceptibly. Maeve stepped forward and murmured a few words, then raised her hands in a gesture like the breaking of a twig followed by a brushing motion. Cass tumbled forward, her hands out to break her fall. The spell was broken. Mambo Cecile spoke. "Many years ago, you destroyed my family, and for what? The love of a man who betrayed you. When Robert found out how you killed my family, he killed himself. When I found his body hanging in the smokehouse, his throat covered in bites and his body nearly drained of blood, I swore I'd have my revenge on you." "Voodoo whore." Cass rose to her knees. "You will have nothing from me-" Cecile drew a rag doll from her voluminous dress. Sunni saw a shock of dark hair on the doll's head before Cecile began circling Cass, waving the doll over the vampire's head. She muttered under her breath and the occupants of the room retreated, assuring the Voodun Mambo plenty of room. Alexandre stepped back as she neared him. Cass hissed and raised to her feet, reaching for Cecile. "You have no power over me. I will destroy you-" Cecile tossed the rag doll at her but Cass caught it, a look of triumph on her face. "See? Your rag doll has no power at all." She flung her arm as if to toss it aside, yet the doll remained where it was, safe in her hand. She stared at the creation, her expression disturbed. With her free hand, she grabbed the head and tried to pull it loose. Her expression turned horrified as she realized that both hands were now stuck. "What have you done?" Cecile smiled. "No-ting. I have no power over you, 'member?" She raised her hand as if to blow a kiss

and the doll erupted into flames. Sunni cringed, reaching once more for the gris-gris as flames raced along Cass' arms, engulfing her in mere seconds. Flames charred her skin and licked her hair as the stench of burning flesh filled the club. Most of the vampires fled the bar, opting for the humid New Orleans night rather than to witness the demise of one of their own, even though she was evil. An unearthly shriek erupted from her burning mouth as she fell to the ground. Within moments, the fire died, leaving only charred bones and ashes. The skull wobbled on the polished floor, the sound hollow as Sunni's stomach turned. "It's done," Cecile pronounced, turning her attention to Alexandre. "The curse has been broken and you've rid your world of her. There will be more, but you know that, don't you? Know that others will line up to take that which is rightfully yours by birthright - both your vocation and your love." She smiled and tipped her head to indicate Sunni. "You are wort-y, white man, she loves you." Sunni felt his gaze on her, but she couldn't tear her eyes from Cecile. "How did you-" The priestess waved her words away as she approached. "Daughter of light, have patience with this one." She nodded at Alexandre. "He loves you, yet he still believes himself unworthy. Bah! Stupid man." She cupped her hands under Sunni's chin and pressed a kiss between her brows. "You, my child, are more blessed than you'll ever know." A warm breeze flicked across her skin and Cecile vanished, leaving only a scent of herbs. Sunni released her grip on the gris-gris to pull the cord from her neck. Opening the now-cool silk, she scattered the powdered contents on the floor knowing that its power was spent.

Epilogue She loved this place. The shop was immaculate, probably clean for the first time since Cecile's death many years before. She set the broom against the wall, taking in the freshly painted walls of pale green and the sheen of the polished floors. The energy was good here, and, with what she had in mind, it would improve. And she knew in her heart that Mambo Cecile would be happy with her plans. "Miles escaped with the diary." Sunni turned to see her lover standing in the doorway leading to the street, his expression haunted. "I'm sorry. I know how much you need it." He stepped inside, his tight jaw, the only outward expression of his frustration. "That diary might spell the end of us all."

She nodded. "It might." "And I came close to blowing it." "But you didn't." "I did." His voice increased in volume. "Twelve people died. You could have been next." Sunni stepped beside him. "But I didn't. The antidote is working. I feel fine." He stared blindly out the front window. "There have been so many times I've wanted to walk away from the Council. I should..." "But you won't." "Like hell I won't." She smiled and touched his arm, forcing him to face her. "No, you won't. It's who you are, Alexandre, a leader. The Shadow Dwellers need a strong leader and that person is you. You could never walk away while we need you." He made a disparaging sound. "While I need you." His gaze met hers. "I don't care what Mambo Cecile said." His voice was hoarse. "I don't deserve you." She grinned and stretched on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his neck. "That might be, but I deserve you and I mean to keep you." He brushed his lips over hers. "Let's go home." "Sounds good to me." They linked hands and strolled to the door. "What are you going to do with the building?" She paused in the doorway, scanning the cheerful room before her gaze fixed on an oil painting she'd found in the back room. A small brass plate read:

Mambo Cecile 1884 - 1930

Her painted smile was self-satisfied.

"Oh, that reminds me." She crossed the room, reaching into her pocket. Beneath the portrait, a small oak shelf held a seven-day prayer candle that still burned. She pulled a gold coin out of her pocket and placed it on the shelf beside the candle. An offering of thanks to Mambo Cecile. Oh yes, she'd be pleased indeed. Sunni turned away and headed for the door. "I'm thinking of opening another shop. This one would encompass transcendental meditation, Reiki, Kempo and a few other things. Maybe I can turn it intothe metaphysical center in the South." Alexandre alternated between a laugh and a groan as she closed the door, locking its secrets inside.

One With The Hunger Book I: The Shadow Dwellers

J. C. Wilder

Copyright © 1998 Lisa Hamilton Previously published by Dreams Unlimited.

Cover Art by Emily Black Cover Art copyright © 2001 Published in Canada by LTDBooks, 200 North Service Road West, Unit 1, Suite 301, Oakville, ON L6M 2Y1 [www.ltdbooks.com] All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher is an infringement of the copyright law. National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data Wilder, J. C., 1965One with the hunger [computer file] ISBN 1-55316-070-3 I. Title.

PS3623.I45O54 2001 813'.6 C2001-902072-4

Dedication For those who dare to dream...

Chapter 1 "I think you should take a lover." Shai paused, her baked potato-filled fork poised in mid-air. She stared aghast across the table at her friend. "Excuse me?" "Ohhh, yes," breathed Melanie, "tall, dark and handsome." She twirled a lock of icy blonde hair around her forefinger and fell back against her chair, a smile curving her full mouth. "And rich, of course." "I think it's a wonderful idea, if I do say so myself." Vivian, the instigator of the conversation, leaned forward, her elbows on the pristine white tablecloth. The stub of a Spanish cigarillo burned between her fingers as she pointed at Shai. "Just what you need to get out of your rut." The rich smoke from the imported cigarette drifted lazily around her head then vanished, vanquished by the efficient air conditioning in the restaurant. "I wasn't aware I was in a rut," Shai said pointedly. Vivian rolled her beautiful blue eyes and looked at her as if she were, at the very least, a dimwitted child. "Well, of course you don't see it, dear, that's what your friends are for... to point out these things." "Even if I don't ask you to," Shai muttered. Erihn ignored her. "Why do you think we bought that outfit for your birthday?" She waved her speared shrimp in Shai's direction. "Vivian said we had to prime the pump, so to speak." Shai glanced at the new clothes she wore. Granted, the clothing that had appeared in a beautifully-wrapped package on her doorstep earlier in the afternoon weren't her normal cup of tea. The short, black velvet skirt, long- sleeved black silk blouse and brilliant emerald green silk jacket weren't bad. In fact, they looked lovely on her, she admitted shyly. Before tonight she would never have dreamed of wearing such a revealing ensemble. She had to fight the urge to tug down the skimpy skirt every time she moved. She'd never worn anything in public that only covered her to mid-thigh; it simply wasn't proper. But it wasn't the clothing that worried her; it was the lingerie that had accompanied the gift. "I'll bet she isn't wearing them," Jennifer, a dark-haired, sloe-eyed woman, speculated. "Think so?" Vivian stubbed out her cigarette. "Enlighten us, little Shai. Are you wearing the naughty underwear Jen and I picked out?" "That's rather personal." Shai stalled, setting down her fork with a clang before reaching for her

wineglass. The deep burgundy resembled blood inside the Irish crystal. In the dim lighting of the restaurant, the liquid glowed and shimmered as if lit from within. She took a hesitant sip, her mind scrambling for an excuse for not wearing the deliciously sexy lingerie. Too small, maybe? No, Jennifer would see right through that one. Damn! She wished they'd not gone shopping together last week. She set her glass down once more. Maybe she could say a panty raid had occurred while she was in the shower. Or armed guerillas had entered her apartment and stolen them at Uzi-point. "Looks like you're right. She isn't wearing them." Melanie untangled her hair from her finger and returned her attention to her plate. "I'm not sure why I put up with you guys," Shai grumbled. She picked up her fork and stuffed the now-cold bite of potato in her mouth, chewing as she glared at her four friends. "Because we're family in every way that counts," Erihn answered matter-of-factly. "And you love us." Jennifer grinned like a well-fed Cheshire cat. "That still doesn't answer the question. Are you wearing the naughty bits Viv and I bought for you?" Shai felt the blush heating her cheeks. While she'd been delighted with the clothing her friends had picked out, the lingerie was intimidating for someone who'd religiously worn plain white cotton all her life. The black lace demi-bra and matching thong had lain on the bed until the very last minute. As she was getting ready for the evening, she'd kept glancing at the lingerie, torn between her desire to don it and her wish that it would vanish into thin air. In the end, she'd relented. Sitting in the trendy New York restaurant wearing an outfit and lingerie that would have cost her a week's pay, Shai felt truly free for the first time in her life. She shifted in her seat, her bottom bare against the black silk half- slip. The whisper of black-seamed thigh highs felt foreign and sexy against her skin. "Yes, I am." She slapped her fork down on the table with a thump. "And I like it." "Bravo, darling." Viv raised her glass in a mock salute. "I suspected as much." Jennifer shrugged out of her black velvet bolero- style jacket to reveal gleaming porcelain skin and a tiny black leather bustier. "Maybe I should take another lover," she commented to no one in particular. "Wore out Marcel already?" Melanie asked. She picked up her glass of wine and finished it off. "That's the problem with men today." Vivian reached for a new cigarette from Melanie's pack. "No stamina." Erihn swallowed a gasp as she ducked her head. Her face half-hidden by a wing of rich brown hair, she busied herself with digging a chunk of crabmeat out of a claw. "More ginseng? Powdered deer antler?" "It would be hard for anyone to keep up with you, Viv dear. How many days a week do you go to the gym?" Melanie asked.

"Three." With a flick of a gold lighter, she lit a fresh cigarette. "I can crush a tin can between these thighs." "Isthat why you go through so many men? You crush them to death?" Melanie teased. Shai glanced at Vivian. "And this is a good thing...how?" "Maybe Viv is into recycling," chortled Erihn. Vivian eyed Erihn's Rubenesque figure. "It wouldn't hurt you to go once in a while." "Oh no, not me." Erihn caught the waitress's attention and waved her hand at the empty wine bottles to show that they needed another one. "What would I do with a man?" A tender look entered Vivian's eyes. She reached over and brushed Erihn's hair away from her face. Her nimble fingers lightly traced the scar that marred the young woman's cheek. A madman in Central Park had ended Erihn's budding modeling career seven years ago. In broad daylight, he'd grabbed her as she'd left a photo shoot. He'd kidnapped and terrorized her for three long, agonizing days before the police had caught up with him. She'd escaped with her life and a horrendous scar that would forever mar her face. But it wasn't the exterior scars that concerned her friends, it was the ones hidden deep inside they worried about. To this day, Erihn refused to speak of the incident that had forever changed her life. "I think you're perfect the way you are," Vivian murmured. Tears glittered in Erihn's deep brown eyes. "Thanks." Shai felt the tears stinging her own eyes. This was why she loved these women. Because they were family in the ways that counted the most. They were there when they needed one another and even when they didn't. For the past two years, they'd laughed and cried together, sharing their lives as only they could with other women. In a silent toast to her friends, she picked up her glass and drank. "Well, I for one have no desire to crush anything between these thighs," Jennifer spoke. "Anything that gets between these legs will sigh with pleasure...not pain." Shai choked on her wine. Without missing a beat, Jennifer pounded her on the back as she continued. "I haven't had any complaints yet." "Nor will you ever, dear," Melanie said. She grinned as the waitress appeared with another bottle of burgundy. "Can you grab some of these here?" She waved her hand at the empty wine bottles that littered the table before returning her attention to her friends. "Of course, that doesn't fix the matter at hand." "Which is?" Erihn asked. "Finding a lover for Shai," Vivian frowned at the young woman. "Weren't you paying attention at all? "Well, of course I was. I'm sitting right here." Shai leaned back, the base of her wineglass hitting the plate with a chime of fine china. "How in the world did we get on this topic? Who says I need a lover anyway?"

"I did, dear." Vivian captured the bottle of burgundy before Melanie could help herself. She leaned around Erihn to fill Shai's glass and then her own. "It's your thirty-first birthday today and, in the two years I've known you, you've never mentioned a man once." "So?" "This needs to stop." Melanie liberated the bottle from Viv and filled her own glass. "Come to think about it, I've never heard you speak about any men. What's up with that?" Shai picked up her glass and took a quick swallow. How in the world was she going to get out of this one gracefully? She set the glass on the table before she spoke. "Just because I don't need a man to make my life complete, does this make me a freak?" "Yes," they all spoke in unison. Shai rolled her eyes. "So much for woman's lib. It's lost on you guys. I don't see anything wrong with being alone." "I do. It simply isn't natural." Jennifer leaned forward to pick up her case and extract a cigarette. "Take me, for example. I'm a very successful journalist and I'm not in a relationship. However," she dropped the case on the table, "I do have several gentlemen I can call to entertain me and take the edge off." Shai blinked. "Take the edge off what?" "Sex, dear." Vivian snared a crab claw off the platter in the center of the table and set to freeing the succulent white meat. "You know, to get your rocks off?" "To get nailed," Jennifer returned, her tone wry. "To poke the hole in the doughnut," Melanie chimed in. "Youladies are so vulgar," Erihn spoke without heat. Vivian grinned, "Thank you, little mouse." She popped the chunk of crab, dripping with butter, into her mouth. "Oh, brother." Shai rolled her eyes again. "You're a virgin," Melanie announced. Silence reigned at the table as Shai found her friends hushed for the first time that evening. They watched her, their expressions ranging from doubt to wonder as they pondered this idea. She squirmed in her seat, uncomfortable with their questioning stares. She wasn't a virgin...but she wasn't far from the mark either. In fact, Melanie's off-hand statement was a little too close for comfort. Hasty fumblings in college with a nearsighted computer major didn't make for a satisfied woman. After her somewhat anti-climactic experience, she'd decided that sex wasn't all it was cracked up to be, so she hadn't pursued it further. However, technically, she wasn't a virgin. "I am not," she protested. "Just because I don't sleep with half of the New York Yankees..."

"I object." Vivian dipped another bit of crab into her container of drawn butter. "It was only the first baseman and the shortstop." A sensual throaty laugh escaped her. "And let me say, my dears, he was anything but short." "Really?" exclaimed Melanie. "Do tell." Vivian shifted in her seat. A soft smile played about her thin, red-painted lips. "He had this thing about biting my toes as he came." She shook her head. "Very strange, as I'd never seen that particular trick before. But he did have this amazing maneuver with..." "Stop!" Erihn's hand came up to halt any further revelations, her cheeks crimson. Jennifer reached for the wine. "That's a word that's never passed Vivian's lips." "Oh, I don't know, the worddon't might have been in front of that." Melanie cracked a lobster tail with a practiced flick of her wrist as the ladies dissolved into laughter. Shai drained her wineglass. Her cheeks were hot and she just knew she was blushing to the roots of her already-red hair. She'd never understood how all of them had become friends over the years. They were all so different with very little in common. She glanced at Vivian, stunning in her blue silk jacket and black leather pants. Her clothing, cultured accent and mannerisms screamed money. Divorced several times, Vivian was known for her outlandish lovers, her flaunting of society's mores and her family's seemingly limitless supply of cash. She was lesser known for her charitable works with the homeless within New York City, but that was something she rarely spoke about. A stunning brunette with a wicked sense of humor, she moved in circles that Shai could only dream of. Jennifer, physically, was almost Vivian's twin. Both had black hair, Jen's long and straight while Viv's was short and curly. Distinguished and elegant, Jennifer was one of the nations' top print journalists and Shai's co-worker at theNew York Times . Jennifer was also one of the lucky three percent who made the big money at it. After writing a piece on a little known war in South America and winning a Pulitzer, the sky was the limit for her and she wrote her own ticket. Shai knew little about her background and Jennifer volunteered very little personal information. Melanie was the vivacious one of the group. Blonde and a bit ditzy, she'd worked for a late night television talk show as the cue card girl. Her many appearances on television when the show's flamboyant host had picked on her during the show had given her entrée to commercials and soon she was headed to Hollywood to make her first movie. She dreamed of making it big in the movies and marrying Mel Gibson. While the Mel Gibson part was out, they all wished her well and supported her at every turn. And then there was Erihn who was like none of them. She was a romance writer and a long-time friend of Jennifer's. Erihn and Shai had met when Shai, on her first assignment as a reporter, had been sent to interview her on the changing face of romance novels. Both women were almost painfully shy, but they'd hit if off immediately, becoming the best of friends. But someone was missing. "Where's Evie?" Shai asked.

Vivian shrugged and reached for a roll. "Maybe she got tied up?" Melanie sighed. "Only if she's lucky." "No. Don't tell me that white-bread man you're engaged to ties you up?" Jennifer drawled. Erihn leaned forward, the candlelight flickered over the scar, making it softer, less apparent. Shai could practically see her jotting mental notes for yet another book. "Only once." Melanie's creamy skin grew flushed and Shai couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol, conversation, or the memories of the event in question. "It was wonderful. Liberating, actually." Vivian licked butter off her fingers and grinned at her blonde friend. "Isn't it just?" Shai blinked. After all the years of outrageous conversations, she should be used to this kind of talk by now. But she wasn't and it made her uneasy. Sex was foreign to her and, in her mind, overrated. She picked up her wineglass and drained it yet again. She'd already had much more than she was used to drinking and tomorrow she'd pay the price. "So, what's your ultimate sexual fantasy, Jennifer?" Erihn asked, her eyes bright with curiosity and far too much wine. "Mmmm," Jennifer paused, her lips screwed up in concentration. "I don't know." A wicked gleam entered her eyes. "How about handcuffed in the back of a police car? Cuffed to the dividing cage while Joe Police-guy frisks me with his really hard...baton." Erihn and Melanie dissolved into laughter as Vivian smiled. "Been there, done that. His last name was Mathison from the 13th precinct here in New York." She sighed and picked up her wineglass, her eyes growing dreamy. "And, oh my, what a baton he had." "Okay." Jennifer stubbed out her cigarette, her tone challenging. "What's your ultimate fantasy, Viv dear, and don't be shy." "Yet another word that's never been associated with Viv," Melanie laughed. Vivian paused, her glass halfway to her mouth. Her expression turned whimsical. "Well, I can't honestly think of many things I fantasize about when, let's face it, I've lived most of them. I suppose, if I really had to come up with one, there is the bar wench fantasy, the Madame and slave fantasy, and the bad cop fantasy isalways a good one..." "Just one, Viv. You needn't recite your entire repertoire of tricks," grumbled Jennifer. She picked up the now-empty bottle of wine and waved it in the direction of the waitress. "Hmm...probably the saloon girl fantasy." Vivian shifted in her chair. "I'm working in a saloon in the old west as some trail riders come in. Three of them, I think. They order a drink as they eye me in my revealing peasant blouse." She traced her fingertips lightly over the suntanned skin showing between the lapels of her jacket. A sensual smile curved her lips as she began to lose herself in the fantasy. "The tallest man's name is Stud Lonewolf and he's a sight for sore eyes. With long blond hair, dark blue eyes and pecs that would make a romance cover model cry with shame. As I set his drink in front of him, he grabs my wrist and pulls me into his lap." She shifted in her seat once more before crossing and

re-crossing her legs. "I can tell it's been a long time since he's seen a real women. He whispers in my ear all the wicked things he wants to do to me. As I lean back against his chest, he reaches up to untie my blouse and my breasts fall free. Callused fingers tease my nipple as his knee parts my thighs. "His teeth nip my neck as one hand traces down my side, across my thighs to the bottom of my skirt. His hand on my skin causes goosebumps to break out. His fingers tear into my pantaloons to plunder my waiting flesh. Growing impatient, he reaches down with his free hand to unleash himself before lifting me to rub against his stiff rod. My eyes fly open at the sensation to realize that his two friends are watching me. As their eyes grow dark with lust, Stud impales me on his manhood." Her voice changed pitch as she continued. "Soft groans escape my lips as his blond friend comes forward. His greedy lips suckle my breast as I twine my fingers in his hair. The third man comes over to take my other breast into his mouth as Stud forces me up and down...up and down. It's relentless. Just as I begin to reach my peak, he comes with a growl, deep inside of me. "For a second, I'm disappointed. But, before I can draw breath, the blond cowboy grabs me around the waist and tosses me on the table, thighs spread. Releasing a cock that would do a horse proud, he shoves inside and begins thrusting. Pumping, pumping until screams claw my throat and I shatter into a million pieces in his arms." Vivian slumped in her chair and fell silent. Her cheeks were flushed, a look of near satisfaction on her face. Shai swallowed hard and reached for her wineglass.Goodness... "What about the third guy?" Melanie asked, entranced. Leave it to Melanie. Shai struggled not to choke on her wine. Vivian picked up her napkin to fan her rosy cheeks. "Oh, him. I wait and nail him later." Jennifer burst into laughter and slapped her palm on the table. "Bravo, dearest!" Vivian grinned. "Too bad I only have a vibrator to go home to tonight. I'm feeling a bit frisky right now." She cast an appraising look around the restaurant as if to spy a willing victim. "Amen, sister," Erihn whispered. She picked up her wine and gulped the remains. Jennifer turned her dark eyes on Shai. "So tell us what gets your panties in a bunch, my dear?" Shai blinked. "My fantasies?" Vivian gave a throaty laugh. "Why, of course. I have a feeling you aren't as pristine as you pretend to be." Her flashing blue eyes dared Shai to step up to the plate. "Whoever said I was pristine?" Shai squeaked. "No one, dear." Erihn patted her hand as if to soothe ruffled feathers. Shai stared at her neglected dinner while four pairs of expectant eyes watched her. What did she do now?

She cleared her throat. "Well..." She hesitated before letting her eyes drift closed. "I'm lying in my bed. It's a hot summer night, like tonight. The drapes are moving in a faint breeze, but it's not strong enough to relieve the humidity that has me trapped in my bed. Restless, I kick at my covers as a shadow appears in the window. It's a man." "Who are you?" She whispered. "You know who I am." His voice was deep, sensual like the purr of a giant jungle cat. Ripples of awareness moved across her skin. Her nipples tightened beneath her simple cotton nightgown. "Yes, I know who you are." She sat upright in her bed and held out her hand in silent invitation to the dark figure in the window. "What do you want from me?" he asked. "Come to me." "You're inviting me in?" "Yes," she replied. "Once I cross the threshold, there is no going back. Is this what you really want?" She rose to her knees, her gown clinging to her overheated skin. "Yes, I want you, all of you." His teeth gleamed in the darkness when he smiled. He stepped in through the window, onto her window seat, scattering soft pillows with his booted feet. He was very tall, much taller than her five foot four. He was dressed in all black--black jeans and a black T-shirt that stretched across his broad chest and shoulders. Black hair brushed his shoulders in a tumble of riotous curls. Feverish blue eyes gleamed beneath heavy brows. His full sensual mouth curved in pleasure. "I've come to give you your ultimate fantasy." She gave a faint nod. He held out his hand, tempting her to reach for the ecstasy he offered. Hesitant, she reached for him, her breath caught as his warm fingers closed around hers. With a gentle tug, he urged her to her feet. Her gown swirled around her thighs as she moved toward him. A strong arm slipped around her waist as he gathered her close, his arousal evident against her lower stomach. "Tell me what you want," he whispered against her skin. His lips moved over her neck, taking a nibble here, a taste there. "Everything. Anything. I want every woman's fantasy." She sighed as his mouth touched her ear, teasing the delicate lobe. His husky chuckle raised gooseflesh on her skin, "I did your laundry and balanced your checkbook." Shai opened her eyes to find her friends staring at her, their expressions ranging from wonder to outright

amusement. Suddenly, Melanie and Erihn broke into shrieks of laughter. Viv lifted her cigarette case, a soft smile tugging at her mouth. "Well, that's definitely a fantasy we know will never happen. Brava, my friend." Jennifer shrugged. "Not true, Viv. It could happen with some men." She turned toward Shai. "Is that your fantasy? A tall dark stranger entering your bedroom in the dark of night? To make love to you until you can't think? To fulfill your darkest fantasies?" "Sounds good to me." Erihn reached for her glass of water. Tears of mirth streaked her cheeks. "I don't know." Shai shrugged. "If I knew I was perfectly safe?" She took another drink of wine. She knew she was half-past drunk now and careening her way into dangerous territory. For her to discuss her sexual fantasies was something she would never think of doing, ever. But here she was, sitting in a public restaurant drinking loads of wine and discussing intimacies with her friends. A sudden streak of boldness shot through her and she sat forward, slamming her glass onto the table. "Sure? Why not? Who wouldn't want to have a dark handsome stranger take control of them, body and soul? To make love until they merge as one? To be worshipped with his body till the end of time?" Jennifer nodded, a speculative gleam in her eyes. "Another one of my favorite fantasies." Vivian nodded slowly. "As is mine." She raised her wineglass in Shai's direction. "Happy birthday, my friend. I think you just revealed more about yourself than you'll ever know." Jennifer raised her glass. "And may your darkest fantasies come true, my dear Shai." Shai laughed and raised her glass as Erihn followed suit. "To fantasies." Chimed in Melanie as they clinked their glasses and the occupants dissolved into laughter. Shai raised her glass to her lips and the laughter caught in her throat when a shifting in the shadows snared her attention. She glanced over Melanie's head to stare into the darkest blue eyes she'd ever seen. Prickles of awareness raced across her skin and her nipples tightened against the soft lace of her bra. Her mouth went dry. Surely he was a figment of her imagination. No mortal man could have eyes so dark, so ageless. So haunted. He was, without a doubt, the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. Piercing blue eyes shadowed by winged black brows. Black hair swept away from his high forehead to fall an inch below his shoulders in soft waves that her fingers ached to explore. Sharp features, high cheekbones and a patrician nose, saved from austere by his mouth. Full and sensual, it screamed of long, hot nights, rumpled silk sheets and musky sex. It was the face of a fallen angel. He was definitely not of this earthly plane. Images came unbidden of the two of them in her wrought iron canopy bed. Sweat gleamed on skin as his hands stroked her overheated flesh seemingly everywhere at once. Her heart thundered in her chest as she imagined his lips on her stomach, leaving a damp trail as he moved toward her breast. His mouth

closed over its aching tip and he suckled deeply as she arched off the bed toward him, wanting more of his dark magic. Her hands clinging to broad shoulders, her thighs opening to him, permitting access to the apex that wept only for this man. For his touch alone. A whimper broke from her lips as sensation poured through her body. She jerked in her chair, her wineglass clattering against her plate as she bobbled it and blindly set it down. Her breath came in gasps, the unexpected arousal leaving her unsatisfied body throbbing in places she barely acknowledged even existed. Erihn turned and frowned at her as Jennifer gave a delighted laugh and held her hands toward the stranger in greeting. "Are you okay?" Erihn whispered. Shai was shaken as he broke eye contact, looking away from her to speak with Jennifer. She nodded, wondering if she really was okay. What on earth was wrong with her? She'd never reacted like that to another human being in her life. She moved the wine out of reach and picked up her glass of water. No more alcohol for her, that was for sure. The stranger's voice interrupted her musings. It was deep and resonant with a faint accent she couldn't place. A shiver zipped across her skin. Rich, like dark chocolate, fine aged brandy or velvet, it was a voice she could listen to for an eternity. She resisted the peculiar urge to swoon. "I had business with Jacques, the owner here." He moved with the lethal grace of a big cat. Unconscious, sexy. No mortal man should be able to move like that. It had to be illegal somewhere. Pleasure curled in her stomach, sending waves of desire racing through her blood. Stop that. Time to sober up. Coffee, maybe? Yes, coffee, that would surely do the trick. She glanced around for their waitress who was nowhere in sight. Damn! The stranger laughed and her toes curled with pleasure as her gaze was dragged back against her will. He held Jennifer's hand and Shai struggled to quell the rush of jealousy as he brought it to his mouth. His smile was intimate, his gaze knowing as he brushed his mouth over her skin. Jennifer laughed and pulled her hand away. "Quit trying to impress me, Val. You forget yourself." He smiled easily, unabashed by Jennifer's rejection and Shai's heart gave a little flutter. This man was dangerous to her well being and she knew, in that instant, nothing would ever be the same again. He glanced around the table, his gaze coming to rest on her. His eyes glittered with a dark heat. "Indeed, I do. It's hard to remember myself when I am surrounded by such beauty." He tipped his head in her direction. The dim lights gleamed in his thick glossy black hair, giving it a bluish sheen. Melanie gave an awkward twitter as Shai forced herself to look away.

"Is it?" quipped Vivian. Her eyes were fastened to the front of the stranger's pants. "Doesn't look like it to me, but give it some time." A catlike smile curved her mouth as she licked her lips. He chuckled as he moved around the table to take Vivian's hand and kiss it also. He crouched beside her to murmur something into her ear as Viv pressed her ample breast against his chest and circled an arm around his shoulders, tangling those obscene red nails in his hair. Shai's cheeks heated in the face of such a blatant attempt at seduction. She shifted her gaze, staring down at her plate while trying to ignore Vivian. She'd never been the kind of woman who attracted men easily. There were times when simply conversing with a man could bring on hives. She wished she could slip under the table and vanish in the face of her friend's easy sensuality. The soft caress of a fingertip touched her cheek, bringing her head up. She glanced around. No one was even looking in her direction, let alone close enough to touch her. "Shai." Jennifer's voice brought her attention back to the table. "I'd love for you to meet someone. This is Valentin and he's a very old and dear friend of mine." She waved her hand in his general direction. "Val, this is Shai Jordan, a much newer friend of mine." Shai caught the amusement in Jennifer's voice and flushed. She tensed as the dark man untangled himself from Viv and moved toward her with his lazy grace. A richly embroidered vest hung open, displaying laces on his flowing white shirt. Open at the throat, it revealed the strong column of his throat melding into broad muscular shoulders. Black jeans clung to taut muscular thighs. A black belt with a plain gold buckle circled his waist and black boots encased his feet. Easily he captured her hand within his much larger one. Warmth surrounded before invading her chilled flesh. Strong fingers, artist's fingers, encircled hers as he slowly raised her hand toward his mouth. "Enchanté." His breath teased the sensitized skin of her knuckles. His lips were warm and dry, eliciting a shiver as his tongue touched the back of her hand. Carnal images crowded her mind as desire burned her like a wildfire. Before her eyes flashed images of this man in her bed, buried deep within her, burrowing into her very soul. Val pulled away, his teeth shutting with a sharp click and Shai caught a glimpse of an emotion akin to shock racing across his face. Was he in pain? "Are you okay?" she asked, startled when her voice came out husky. He flashed her a picture perfect smile. "Better than I was before meeting you." He straightened smoothly, never releasing her hand. "Ladies, it has been a great pleasure seeing you, but I am afraid I have to run." He glanced down at Shai, his gaze capturing and holding hers easily. "Business does not await my personal pleasures." He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. Vivian fairly purred her displeasure. "That's too bad, Val. It's been such along time since we've seen each other. We're headed to the Pyramid after dinner. Maybe you can join us there?" "Indeed, it has been a long time. If I can get away, it would be an honor to join you ladies this evening." His gaze never left Shai's as he raised her hand to his lips once again. "Until next we meet, little one." He kissed her hand a second time, his teeth brushing her skin before he released her. Turning, he headed toward the door, every woman's eye on him as he exited.

"Nowthat is a fantasy," Erihn announced into the silence. "It seems our little Shai caught Val's eye," Jennifer commented. "Lucky girl. I've been after him since he first appeared in New York about a year ago." Vivian's tone was sour. "Never even looked twice at me." "I certainly wouldn't kick him out of bed," Melanie said. "I wouldn't either," Shai, still feeling dazed, spoke through numb lips. Vivian laughed, her pique apparently forgotten. "It's about damned time. A man to turn Shai's head. And what a man he is." She leaned closer to Shai. "Watch out, little one. Val is one of the sharks in the ocean of life," she paused. "Of course, that makes him all the more desirable." She raised her wineglass. "Here's to Shai and her deepest, darkest fantasies. Long may Val fill them...and a few other things." "I don't..." Shai began, only to realize they were no longer listening to her. Shivers danced along her spine as she recalled his deep blue eyes and sinfully sexy mouth. "Oh, what the hell... Here's to fantasies."

Chapter 2 Shai tumbled headfirst through her apartment door. Clinging to the doorknob, she skidded to a stop as her oversized purse banged into the coat tree, sending it crashing to the floor. She straightened and stared at it, her vision distorted as if she were underwater. "Bummer." Her voice sounded slurred and she giggled as she kicked the door shut with one foot. She started across the wood floor toward the darkness of her bedroom door. As she walked, she discarded her clothing in an uneven trail, marking her progress through the apartment. Her silk jacket landed on the arm of a chair, her purse a hill of soft leather in the middle of her living room. Next came her black skirt, a puddle of velvet in the hall. As she neared the doorway, she noticed with alarm that the room was tilting. She reached out a hand to brace herself against the wall and keep herself upright. "What the..." She glanced down at her feet. One high-heeled shoe was missing. She turned too fast only to send her head spinning and she staggered into the wall with a thud. "Oooof..." She squinted toward the hall, looking for the missing footwear. Her errant shoe lay tangled in her skirt. "Too much effort." Turning, she stumbled through the door, losing her other shoe in the process. Her shirt slithered to the floor. Her four-poster bed lay bathed in a pool of brilliant moonlight. The windows were wide open and a soft, humid breeze tugged at the heavy blue drapes. With a sigh of delight, Shai fell onto the bed, her body numb with drink and sensual intoxication. Her fingers curled into the crisp white sheets. Oh, how she loved her bed. It was the best bed in the world. Unbidden, an image of Val entered her mind. She groaned.

Val in her room. In her bed. In her. She closed her eyes and grabbed a pillow to cradle it against her overheated body. Enough of that. Fantasies were one thing, but her reality was that a man like Val would never be interested in a boring, white-cotton woman like her. She sighed into her pillow and scrunched her face deeper into the pristine cotton, willing her body to relax. Within seconds, she gave in to the demands too much alcohol had placed on her, and she fell asleep.

She looked like a whore. The vampire settled on the windowsill, mere feet from the woman's sleeping form. A derisive smile curled his lips. Whore or not, she was even more exquisite than he'd ever imagined. Thick red hair lay tumbled across her pillow in a river of curls. Dark lashes shadowed her cheeks, hiding eyes he knew were a brilliant green. A small, delicately shaped nose with a slight bump at the bridge as if it had been broken at one time. Her mouth was generous with a full lower lip and slightly thinner upper one. Her skin was the creamy delight of a redhead. Her throat was slender, marred only by a small scar at the base on the right side. Perfection. A black lace bra barely covered her breasts, full and round. He ached to touch them, to taste them. Her belly looked soft and inviting while her hips and upper thighs were covered by a silk half-slip. Naughty black nylons encased her thighs and lovely calves down to slender ankles and feet. A delicate gold ankle bracelet glittered in the moonlight. He certainly appreciated her choice in underclothing. But he was surprised that a woman as conservative as Shai would dress like a seasoned harlot beneath her street clothes. It would be so easy to kill her, he thought dispassionately. He knew exactly where to touch her slender throat and, in mere seconds, she'd be one of the dearly departed. Just another victim found dead in their bed in the city called New York. He looked at his hands, his pale skin gleaming white in the moonlight. They didn't look like they were over nine hundred years old. Nine hundred years of murder, mayhem and blood. He stroked his chin. For Shai's sake, it would be more humane for her if he did kill her with his hands. Quick and efficient, no fuss no muss. No mortal would want to live through what he'd planned for her. But even when he'd been human, he hadn't been humane. A mirthless smile curved his mouth. Oh, how he wanted her. More now than the first time he'd laid eyes on her. Every year, the desire

had grown stronger until he'd reached this breaking point. Sitting outside of her bedroom window watching her sleep, lusting after her yet unwilling to touch her. Yet. Soon her time would come. A faint, self-deprecating laugh escaped him. She stirred in sleep, a frown marring the perfection of her face. As if she knew he was there, she turned her face and twisted her body away from his gaze as if to avoid him. The silk half-slip tightened, sliding up to reveal the tops of her stockings and the tiny black thong panties she wore. The vampire's breath caught in his throat and a faint hiss of air escaped him. Her panties left nothing to the imagination. Moonlight gilded the perfection of her skin, the smooth slopes and tantalizing indentations. Her backside was larger than considered fashionable by today's standards. But it was perfectly round and taut. He preferred his women to be shaped like women, not sticks with boobs. This beauty had something to hang onto, a backside that would fill his ample hands admirably. He longed to slip in her window and grab her, pulling her against his raging erection. To bury himself in her softness until she cried. He pictured himself in bed with her, her body moving against him, her eyes sleepy with lust. A growl escaped his throat. With one last look at the sleeping woman, he turned away. Mortal women. They were the downfall of many a vampire. To meld with living flesh, breathing and crying out beneath him, on top of him, it didn't matter. It was an addiction and he was in serious need of a fix. Weakness was weakness and it had to be either destroyed or appeased. He glanced back at her. It was rare that a mortal had reached him the way she did, the way she always had. Just as her mother had many years before. He bared his teeth. The moonlight seemed even more brilliant than it had been before. It was time to feed and feed he must. Clicking his jaw in frustration, the vampire caressed her one last time with his gaze. Moving with the near silence of one of the very old, he leapt from the window to the alley thirty feet below. He landed with a gentle thud and straightened, checking to ensure his clothing was in perfect order before moving toward the mouth of the alley and the darkened streets beyond. Shai's time would come, as would her companions. He knew that for a certainty. Unfortunately her friends were average, not exceptional like her. If they'd been exceptional, he might have spared them. The only possible exception was Jennifer. She could be a problem. But the rest of them would serve their purpose and serve it well. First things first, though. There was a merry game to be played. The players in this drama were in place and act one had already commenced. Laughter filled the night as the vampire faded into the shadows.

Shameless Book III: The Shadow Dwellers

J. C. Wilder

Copyright © 2000 Lisa Hamilton Previously published by Dreams Unlimited.

Cover Art by Emily Black Cover Art copyright © 2001 Published in Canada by LTDBooks, 200 North Service Road West, Unit 1, Suite 301, Oakville, ON L6M 2Y1 [www.ltdbooks.com] All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher is an infringement of the copyright law. National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data Wilder, J. C., 1965Shameless [computer file] ISBN 1-55316-078-9 (electronic) ISBN 1-55316-921-2 (REB 1100 1200) I. Title. PS3623.I45S44 2001 813.6 C2001-902070-8

Dedication To John Duch - The gifts I have received in my life have been plentiful, thank you for reminding me.

Acknowledgements My heartfelt thanks to my dear friend Dave for allowing me unlimited use of his home and for answering my many questions about life in Colorado. Dave - you mean more to me than you'll ever know. And to Joe - WOOF! Carol and Julia - My partners in crime, I would still be wandering the halls of unfulfilled dreams if ya'll weren't constantly kicking me in the backside. Rosemary - For your biting wit, most excellent conversations and undying encouragement - Thanks doll! Lynne - Thanks for writing the perfect poem. Jaycee - Thanks for reading this and not saying "You're NUTS!" Buttons - We miss you. Thanks to the Columbus Zoo for answering my questions about cougars.

Chapter 1 Boulder, Colorado "You aresuch a liar!" Erihn blinked at the intrusion of Vivian's strident tone. She looked up from the book in her lap in time to see Jennifer shake her dark head. "Vivian, I am truly a fraud." Jennifer sighed dramatically, amusement lurking in the depths of her blue eyes. Vivian snorted, "All those stories..." She waved a glittering, beringed hand in Erihn's direction. "I thought she was the fiction writer." She pointed at Jennifer. "You're the journalist and your stories should be based on fact." "Was a journalist." Melanie raised her champagne glass in the air to signal the waitress. "She quit her job." Vivian's perfectly shaped brow arched. "You did?" Jennifer nodded. "About a month ago. I decided it was time for a change." "Oh, what I would do for a life of leisure," Melanie sighed. "I'd never get out of bed, and I'd hire a fleet

of men to attend to my every need." "What would your husband say about that?" Vivian asked. "Nothing complimentary, I'd wager," Melanie smirked. "That's rich coming from Little Miss My-Last-Movie-Grossed-Seventy-Million," Jennifer shot back. "What do you do, work about four months out of the year?" "I have to workout every day to keep this figure," Melanie protested. "It's hard work!" "Yeah, with a personal trainer, masseuse, and a full entourage of assistants," Vivian teased. "You probably hire someone to sweat for you." Melanie glared at Vivian. "You have a personal assistant." "Well, itis so hard to keep straight all those lunch dates, cocktail parties and secret assignations." Jennifer winked at Erihn. "I do more than just flit around to lunch dates and cocktail parties." Vivian scowled at Jennifer. "I do very important things with my life." "Like your nails?" Melanie snickered. "I think you're parasites, every last one of you." Erihn interjected with a grin. "I'm the only one here with a real job." "Romance writing is a job?" Vivian laughed. "Don't you just sit around and eat bonbons all day while cover models do your every bidding?" "Maybe I need to add that clause to my contract..." Melanie mused. Erihn snorted with laughter. "No, I sit hunched over a computer for hours until my entire body aches and I want to cry. I stumble around in a haze because characters are talking in my head and I can't concentrate on anything else. As for bonbons..." She shook her head. "There are days I'm lucky to have that much in the house because I forget to go to the grocery store. On the rare occasion when I do manage to get out the door, I usually forget what I went there to buy." "You're the one who needs a personal assistant," Jennifer said. "Not on your life," Erihn denounced. "What would I do with a PA? They'd be terribly bored with my dull little life." "I can give you a few ideas..." Vivian drawled. "NO!" The three women shouted in unison, drawing the curious looks of patrons at the tables nearest to them. "Really," Vivian sniffed. She jabbed her finger in Jennifer's direction. "That doesn't get you off the hook, young lady. Lying to your friends and telling wild stories." She shook her ebony head. "Is this how you pay us back for years of undying friendship, pounds of Swiss chocolates, and listening to your 3 a.m.

phone dramas?" "I've never called you at 3 a.m.," Jennifer objected. "That's Melanie, she can never remember what time zone she's in." Melanie nodded, "True..." Jennifer leaned against the arm of the couch. "I didn't know how to tell you guys about Mac." She squirmed, fixing her gaze on the tips of her sandals. "It was complicated." Melanie leaned forward and patted her on the knee. "I think it's terribly romantic." "Oh, really," Vivian snorted, rolling her eyes in disgust. Shai arrived and energetically dropped onto the low-slung couch between Erihn and Jennifer. "Who are you castigating this time?" she asked Vivian. "Jennifer. She lied about her supposed lovers and, all the while, she was pining away for one man." Melanie swooned dramatically, waving her hand in front of her face as if she were flushed. "You're never going to win an Oscar with that style of overacting," Jennifer glowered. "Prima Donna..." "Shrew," Melanie shot back. "I think it's romantic," Erihn interrupted. "And I'm glad you waited for him." Vivian rolled her eyes. "What's so romantic about waiting for one man to come and take you away from all this?" She waved her hand vaguely to encompass the interior of the coffeehouse. "I say go out, grab him and do it quick before you dry up and wither away." "We know how you feel, Viv." Melanie leaned forward to pick up the champagne bottle from the ice bucket. "Well, I did get him...in the end anyway," Jennifer answered, a secret smile playing across her mouth. "Boy, did she ever," Shai snickered. Erihn turned to look at Shai in disbelief. Whatever had happened to her shy, retiring friend? The Shai who'd dressed in baggy clothing and ducked her head when someone looked at her sideways was now dressed in a body-skimming emerald green silk cat suit and a sheer ebony shirt with her normally unruly red hair caught up in a complicated twist. She looked sleek and sophisticated, confident. She certainly looked nothing like the wallflower she'd been a few years ago. "You've changed a great deal, my friend." "Really, how is that?" Shai asked, leaning forward to accept the bottle of champagne from Melanie. "At your little birthday dinner a few years back..." Erihn began. "Almost eleven years ago," Melanie chirped.

"Has it been that long?" Jennifer shook her dark head. "Time does fly." "I'm getting old," Vivian sighed mournfully. "You still look 22," Jennifer observed "Oh, the marvels of plastic surgery...." Melanie teased. "I havenot had plastic surgery," Vivian denied loudly. Erihn ignored the bickering that was her friends' favorite form of conversation. "You could barely keep from blushing when Vivian mentioned the word sex." Erihn smiled fondly. "Poor shy Shai." Shai laughed and filled Erihn's empty glass to the rim. "Boy, was I a little mouse back then." Her green eyes glimmered brightly. "I know better now." She gave Erihn an affectionate poke in the arm. "As if you're any better." "That's so true." Vivian snagged the bottle from Shai and filled her own glass. "I think we need to make Erihn our next little project. Look how beautifully Shai turned out. Only a few months after her birthday, she was hanging out with the richest man in the city and having the best sex of her life." Erihn shook her head. "Oh no you don't! I don't want to be..." "It wasn't hard to have the best sex of my life since I was practically a virgin when I met Val," Shai laughed. "I had nothing to compare him to." Vivian offered the bottle to Jennifer. "One only has to glance at Val and know he's a supreme fu-" "Perfect!" Melanie leaned forward to intercept the bottle. "Just what we need, a new project. What stupendous timing, I'm not even working right now! I think we need to start with Erihn's clothing." Erihn scowled at Melanie. "What's wrong with my clothes?" Jennifer accepted the bottle from Melanie and shook her head as if to warn Erihn to be silent and give in gracefully. "If you have to ask what the problem is, then you're in bad shape, my fashion-unconscious friend." Erihn waved a hand at Melanie's skin-tight pink leather halter dress and matching high-heeled pumps. "I can't dress like that. I'd look silly." "We can do something fun with her hair." Vivian reached over and snagged a lock of Erihn's hair, winding it around her finger. "A bob maybe." Erihn glared at Vivian as she pulled her hair away from her friend's manicured claws. "I think not," she snapped. "Color it?" Melanie queried. Erihn clutched her hair in one hand. She glanced down at the muted brown, dulled by the subdued lighting. "No way."

"No." Jennifer shook her head. "Thank you, Jennifer," Erihn huffed. "Finally, the voice of reason..." "Layered, I think," Jennifer mused. "What?" Erihn shrieked, drawing more curious looks. She cringed under their gazes, embarrassment heating her skin. She hated drawing attention to herself and she tried to avoid it as much as possible. But, whenever her friends were involved, they invariably caused a scene sooner or later. She suppressed a groan. Shai laughed and threw an arm around her. "I think you're perfect just the way you are," she said with a hug. "However, I do think a man is in order." "Traitor." Erihn snatched her glass of champagne off the low table in front of her and took a healthy swallow. "You have no idea how it could change your life," Melanie offered. "I like my life the way it isthankyouverymuch ." Erihn shook her head. "The last thing I need is a man mucking it up." "If you had a man in your life, you could quit buying all those sexual guides," Vivian pointed out, accepting the champagne bottle from Jennifer. "Research," Erihn snapped. "Yes, but you could try it out on a willing subject." Jennifer grinned. "I don't need..." Vivian snorted, leaning over to top off Erihn's glass with the dregs of the bottle. "Yes, you do. Trust me, darling, there's nothing like a good fuck to get your body and mind back into working order." Erihn blanched at Vivian's blatant words. "I don't need a....a....that," she stammered. "You're afraid because of what thatman did to you," Melanie observed. Erihn tensed. Of course she was afraid. She had good reason to be terrified of the opposite sex. When she was a teenager, she'd been kidnapped and held for several days by a brutal madman who'd used her in ways these ladies could never imagine. What wasn't there to be afraid of? When had the opposite sex ever shown her anything but pain or brutality, or ignored her completely? She'd learned her lessons well; she wasn't about to repeat a past mistake. Her hand trembled as she raised the glass to her lips. She took a large gulp of the icy liquid to give herself time to gather her errant emotions. "I'm not afraid," she lied. "I simply like my life..." "You're afraid, and that's okay," Jennifer interrupted. "It's okay to be scared. We just need to find you a nice, refined gentleman who'll worship you..."

"Boring." Vivian sighed and Jennifer shot her a dark glance. "And take care of you." Melanie raised her glass in Erihn's direction as if to salute. "Buy you flowers." Shai grinned. "Buy you jewels," Vivian added. "Take you out for long romantic walks," Melanie sighed. "I remember romantic walks..." "Hold your hand in the rain," Shai said. "Give you long, soulful kisses that make your toes curl..." Jennifer raised her hand to her lips, her expression dreamy. "And fuck your brains out on occasion," Vivian added dryly. Erihn couldn't prevent the laugh that escaped her. Vivian had a one-track mind, which was fine with her. She got some of her best fantasy material for her novels from Vivian's conquests and tall tales. Vivian's sexual appetites were legendary among the five friends. Shai hugged her again. "Don't worry, darling, we have everything well in hand and it won't hurt a bit." "Unless you're lucky," Vivian purred. Shai rolled her eyes at Vivian, then turned to Erihn. She pointed to the book in Erihn's lap. "What do you think of your birthday present?" Erihn set her glass down and rubbed her hand over the worn leather binding. It was a first edition of Emily Brönte'sWuthering Heights . She'd never imagined touching a copy, let alone owning one. "It's lovely. I don't know what to say other than I'll treasure it always." "Val was tickled to death when he found it tucked in the back of a dusty little antique bookshop in Hay-on-Wye in Wales. On a bottom shelf behind a box of tattered Victorian erotica laid this little gem. He was quite dirty by the time he'd retrieved it, and when I walked into the room, he was sitting on the floor, grinning like a loon with this book in his hands." Erihn hugged the book to her chest; a tiny thrill of possession ran through her. "I must call and thank him..." "No need. He'll be here shortly." Jennifer picked up her glass of champagne. "He and Mac are escorting us to dinner tonight." "Only two of them?" Melanie laughed. "Do you think they can keep up?" Vivian slanted a wicked grin at the blonde. "I have no doubt they can." She turned her gaze to Erihn. "But the question is..." She leaned forward, her eyes bright with curiosity. "Will you go up there and recite a poem?" She nodded toward the tiny stage at the front of the coffeehouse. Erihn looked across the crowded room to the stage at the far end. The Brew House was one of the

most popular spots in Boulder. Half of the building was a coffeehouse, while the other half was a micro-brewery. Well-dressed patrons sat at café-style tables or relaxed in cozy clusters of couches and overstuffed chairs. At the far end was a stage used for musical performers or literary readings, and Sunday night was amateur poet night. A variety of colored lights transformed the stage into a kaleidoscope of motion. A small woman dressed in a swirling rainbow of a skirt stood in a narrow spotlight of white. The light turned her blonde hair to white, giving her an angelic look that clashed with the vibrant skirt. She undulated her hips as if she were swimming. "Not like that." Erihn shook her head, enjoying the floating feeling caused by the champagne. "Never like that..." "She is a bit..." Shai hesitated. "Over the top?" "Poseidon!" The blonde woman shrieked, her body taut as if she'd been struck with a jolt of electricity. Gracefully, she collapsed to the stage in a rainbow swirl and the crash of silver bracelets. Melanie twisted in her chair to look at the stage. Her expression turned confused. "Is that what they call performance art?" "Dementia is more like it," Shai commented. The waitress appeared with another bottle of champagne in a glass ice bucket. With a flourish, she set it on the low table. "Here you are, ladies, compliments of the gentleman at the bar." Erihn looked over Melanie's head into the other half of The Brew House. Shai's lover, Val, was leaning against the bar. As he caught her gaze, he smiled then lifted his hand in a quick salute. Warmth blossomed in her chest at the sight of him as an answering smile curved her lips. Val was a wonderful man, if a bit intimidating to look upon. At just over six feet in height with a muscular build, he easily evoked a woman's darkest fantasies. He was incredibly handsome with his raven hair and dark blue eyes; almost overpowering in his intensity. At first, she'd been uncomfortable around his blatant masculinity, but she was soon cured of that. He was such a good friend to her, and he worshipped Shai to distraction. His devotion to her best friend went a long way in making her feel at ease with him. "You've just got to love that man," Vivian announced as she waved in Val's direction. "No dear,I have to love that man. You're only allowed to drool from afar," Shai teased. "If you get too close, I'll cut off your claws." Erihn cast a glance at Shai just in time to see her smile provocatively at her lover. She hoped Shai never realized that she'd modeled her latest hero loosely on Val. She'd be mortified if they ever figured it out, and she'd never be able to look either one of them in the eye again. Erihn smiled. Val was such perfect hero material. "So, Erihn," Jennifer startled her from her musing. "Tell us about your latest release. Where did you get this intriguing idea for your hero?" Her eyes glinted with undisguised mirth as she leaned forward to liberate the new bottle of champagne from the ice.

"Ohhh," Melanie gushed. "I justloved this book. Brand is so dreamy and so hot. My husband and I took turns reading various passages to one another." Erihn's cheeks heated. "I wasn't aware I was writing a sex manual, Melanie." "Page one seventy-two was positively steamy..." Melanie purred. "Did you act those scenes out?" Vivian demanded. "Do give me his name, I'd love to meet your research subject." Shai laughed and stretched lazily. "I haven't had time to readVelvet Lover yet. Tell me what it's about." "Well, actually, I got the idea from a book in Val's library. All of you know I did some research there early last year, and I was looking for some specific information. I was going to do a historical based in a Turkish harem when I came across a little book on metallurgy tucked behind some dusty tomes." Erihn shook her head. "I wasn't sure if I should use the book, but Val said anything in the library was available, so I read it. It was a fictional diary of sorts and it was just fascinating." "A what?" Shai frowned in confusion. "A little handwritten tome about a fictional creature, but it was written as if the author were that creature. Sort of like a monologue of daily life and information on the lineage. Most of it read like stereo instructions; out of order and confusing." "I don't recall seeing anything like that in the library. Of course, there are thousands of books there and I haven't gone through them all." Shai frowned. "What kind of creature was this book about?" "He's a fabulous creature," Melanie broke in. Vivian nodded, waving her glass dangerously, "Stunning, truly." "Such stamina..." Melanie sighed. "Very inventive..." Vivian grinned. "A were-cat," Jennifer deadpanned. Shai blinked. Though she hid her shock well, Erihn caught a glimpse of her stunned expression before she hastily masked it. "A were-cat is..." Erihn began. Shai waved her hand. "I know what a were-cat is. Your new hero-the one everyone is raving about-is a... were-cat?" "Well, sort of," Erihn began. "Sort of nothing," Melanie interrupted. "He's the hero to end all heroes." "He's pretty spectacular," Jennifer nodded.

"A were-cat?" Shai looked appalled. "What's the problem?" Erihn laid a hand on her friend's arm. "Val said it was okay to use anything from the library." "I'm sure it's fine. I was a bit startled. I never knew this book existed." Shai's expression turned thoughtful. "So, tell me about these were-cats." "Well, they normally appear in human form as normal as you and I. As the full moon approaches, they spend more time in their catlike form. They gather energy from this form and it gives them certain... powers." Erihn paused, unsure of how to proceed. Jennifer's eyes gleamed with suppressed laughter. "That's an inventive way of describing it." Vivian slanted a sideways glance at Erihn, her expression encouraging. "Go on." Erihn colored furiously then glared at Vivian, unable to speak. It was one thing to write about The Act, it was something else to actually speak of it in public, even if she was with her dearest friends. "They're... How would you say..." Melanie paused, the tension grew as she waited until everyone was leaning forward to catch her next word. "Well-endowed." "And then some," Vivian breathed. "Energetic?" Shai queried. "Like rabbits," Vivian drew out the "r" as she gave Shai a knowing look. Silence. Erihn squirmed as Vivian and Melanie broke into peals of laughter. Jennifer shot her a warm look. "It's a good book, little mouse. For a fantasy." "You don't think were-cats exist?" Shai gave Jennifer an arch look, a smile curving her full lips. "Honey," Vivian broke in. "If were-cats did exist, I'd be the first to know." Erihn smiled. "Boy, isn't that the truth." Jennifer's gaze was locked with Shai's. An odd energy passed between them as if they were having a silent conversation. "Sure they exist." Jennifer's expression was smug. "I think I see one in the bar right now." She nodded in the direction of Val. Erihn frowned, then glanced over to see a man standing with his back to them as he spoke with Val. All she could see was brownish hair pulled into a short ponytail with something silver that gleamed as he moved his head. He was big and broad, dwarfing Val by a few inches. His black clothing made him seem enormous. Threatening. Untamed.

Chilled, a shiver rippled over her skin as a faint sense of foreboding hovered on the edge of her consciousness. "Are you okay?" Jennifer touched her on the knee to get her attention. "I'm fine," Erihn whispered. She cleared her throat. "I think I need more champagne." Vivian leaned forward and reached for the bottle. "I'm with you sister."

She moved like a cat, dainty, her feet barely touching the floor. Fayne leaned against the bar, his pint of Scottish ale forgotten beside him. Through the doorway into the coffeehouse portion of The Brew House, he watched her as she wove her way around the tables filled with chatting patrons. She was headed toward the stage at the far end of the room. Her hair was long and loose, ending just below her backside. The dark color was nondescript in the low lighting. Unbound, it obscured her profile as she paused to speak to the announcer. Gesturing at the stage, she nodded, and Fayne caught a glimpse of the pale oval of her face and shadowed eyes. Dressed in a long skirt the color of dirt and an enveloping cream-colored shirt, she was as diametrically opposed to the other women in their barely-there summer dresses as chalk was to cheese. Covered from head to toe with her modest, enveloping clothes and long, shaggy hair, she looked as if she were trying to hide from something. Or someone. She was an enigma. Fayne smiled. He loved puzzles. Curiosity had certainly almost killed this cat a time or two, but that didn't stop him from his favored pastime. Puzzles drove him mad and women were his favorite riddle. He reveled in their femininity, their scent, and their sensuality. Basked in the hidden mysteries of their shapely limbs and secretive eyes. Overdosed on their voices and wrapped himself in their beauty while rejoicing in their strength. In short, he loved women. His eyes narrowed as the woman stepped onto the stage. She reached to adjust the microphone, her slender fingers curled around the base as she raised it to the correct level. She pushed her hair back with her left hand, allowing him a glimpse of her profile. Dark brows, a lovely cheekbone and a slightly snubbed nose. She glanced to her left and smiled at her friends as they jostled for better viewing positions on the low-slung couch and chairs. A shy smile curved her mouth as a gentle blush swept her skin. She ducked her head as if embarrassed. Something dark stirred in him, gently nudging the leash of his willpower. The moon was waxing and the urge to mate was growing stronger. It'd been over ten months since he last mated and the demands of the approaching full moon were taking a toll on his peace of mind. After the debacle with the vampire Mikhail during winter solstice last year, Fayne's life had been taken over by the unexpected inclusion of a six-year-old mortal child. He smiled at the thought of his son, Max. Few things were more important to a were-cat than physical gratification and their own creature

comforts, but his son was definitely one of them. Max came first with him. Period. End of story. But, while he loved Max dearly and would sacrifice anything for him, for the next few weeks Fayne was free to do as he pleased. Max was off with Bliss in South America on an archeological dig and having the time of his life. With Max well taken care of, Fayne had other pressing matters to attend to. There were only a few more days until the full moon and time was growing short. He glanced at the assembled women sitting with Shai and Jennifer. To Shai's right sat a stunning brunette with red claws. His eyes narrowed. She was lovely, but there was something brittle about her. Across from her sat Melanie Reynolds, the movie actress. She wore a barely-there pink leather dress that she was in serious danger of falling out of. Too overblown and very married; two things he avoided. There was something to be said about subtlety. As he'd prowled through the years, Fayne realized that he appreciated the subtle woman. The woman who lightly dabbed perfume on the back of her knees rather than bathing in it. The woman who wore high- collared shirts and demure lace bras rather than crotch-less panties and garter belts. He much preferred women who didn't shout their femininity as much as they accentuated it. The women most men would overlook intrigued him. The shy ones who didn't command center stage. The ones who looked away rather than returning his gaze boldly. They all had their stories to tell; their darkness and their light. He lived to ferret out their secrets. Fayne returned his gaze to the woman on the stage. This beautiful little wren wasn't so much understating her sexuality as being completely unaware of it. She'd buried it beneath layers of ill-fitting clothing and long, heavy hair. He could change all that. He could make her more aware of her sexuality than she'd ever dreamed. He glanced back to the overblown blonde and her brittle friend. No, he'd found his mate. He smiled as he turned his attentions back to the woman on the stage. She'd do perfectly. It was time for the cat to prowl.

Erihn released her grip on the microphone. The amount of champagne she'd imbibed made the room fuzzy and indistinct. She blinked. Vivian was right. It was much easier to get up here when she couldn't see more than a foot in front of her. She grinned and ducked her head to prevent an undignified snort of laughter. The announcer spoke. "Our next poet's name is Erihn, and her poem is entitled, 'The Cat.'" Polite applause broke out as the lights dimmed, leaving her in a pinpoint spotlight of pale violet. The only other light in the room came from the candles on the tables and track lighting along the old brick walls. Through the doorway, she could see into the bar section of The Brew House. A tall, broad figure lounged against the bar next to Val. She caught a glimpse of dark eyes in a strong, chiseled face before a shriek startled her, ripping her gaze away.

"You GO, Erihn," Vivian bellowed. Erihn's cheeks heated and she looked down at the stage floor, avoiding the curious gazes of the bar inhabitants. She took a deep breath to steady herself, exhaling slowly, then she began. Full moon rising, I strain my ears to hear, Sounds that feed the growing hunger of my fear. Anticipation building pictures in my head. She shifted her gaze off the stage to the main floor as she spoke. Inexorably, she began tracing a path up the narrow aisle which led into the bar, skimming over the shoes and ankles of their owners. Through dark shadows, eyes that seek to see, Signs of legend's mystic entity. A pair of black boots moved into the center of the doorway, halting her journey. Slowly, her gaze traveled from the tips of the boots to tight black jeans that covered a pair of strong calves and lovingly cupped muscular thighs. Emerging from the dream-time canopy, An awesome figure, challenging my sanity. Her gaze skimmed over narrow hips, consciously avoiding his fly and the mysteries contained there. He wore a black silk dress shirt and the only word that came to mind was "big" as she scanned the breadth of his shoulders and massive chest. Prowling softly on his catlike feet, A strong, tanned throat and a square jaw, full lips that looked incredibly soft and a sharp nose. High cheekbones gave the sculptured face an aristocratic air. But it wasn't his face as much as his eyes that drew her attention. They were the most exotic shade of violet she'd ever seen and they were staring right at her. Eyes glowing with a deep violet heat. Erihn's breath caught in her throat forcing her to pause. She averted her gaze from those hypnotic eyes down to the knees of his jeans. Dazed, the words tumbled from her lips as if someone else spoke them. Night light shining in a sky black mist, Emits a call I am unable to resist. A slow, tingling of awareness began in her stomach. Feelings deep within begin to take control,

A dormant essence of my hidden soul. The jeans began to move toward the stage. Slow graceful movements like those of a big jungle cat, each step deliberate, cautious. Erihn kept her gaze at knee height as he moved toward her, the words continuing to tumble from her numb lips. My footsteps drag me from my sanctuary, To cross the borders of banality. Into the domain of his feral lair, I tremble at the danger in the air. The boots reached the edge of the stage, then paused, one lifting, settling on the edge just to the right of the microphone. Awareness unfurled and extended through her limbs, heating her blood. She trembled at the onslaught. Our figures meet, your presence takes command, A big hand moved into her line of vision, reaching for hers. Her breath caught. As silky fingers circumfuse my hand. She unclenched her fist, opening it to accept his touch. I hear my heartbeat thundering in my ears, A culmination of a lifetime of fears. Strong fingers, lightly callused, clasped her hand as shivers rippled up her arm, then expanded through her body. My body feels as though on fire, Filled to eruption with a strange desire. He leapt onto the stage, startling her. Her gaze shifted from his boots to his handsome face with those fathomless eyes. He towered over her, yet, curiously, she felt no fear. He mesmerized her with his violet gaze as he linked an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. She was intensely aware of his heat as her body brushed his. Releasing her wrist, he captured the back of her neck, angling her head for his kiss. Your lips meet mine and I am lost - my inhibitions flown. His head dipped. No turning back-no backing down-the seeds of passion sown. His lips brushed hers, the faintest of touches.

My being reels, my blood congeals, you claw into my mind. His lips touched hers again, and Erihn's left hand raised of its own volition to fist in the silk of his shirt. A soft protest escaped her as he pulled away, her gaze fastened on his lips. You open a secret place I thought I'd never find. She released her grip on his shirt. Sliding her hands up, she slipped them past his open collar and cupped her palms around the warmth of his neck. Gently, she tugged his mouth back to hers. Now the moment is at hand I surrender to this urge... Heat shafted through her body as she raised to her tiptoes, pressing her herself against him. His lips were warm and soft. A sigh escaped her as he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing her lips, gently coaxing, then demanding entry. Her lips parted and she took him deep. The taste of him, darkly erotic, sinful, rocketed through her. A whimper caught in her throat. She was Eve to his Adam and she hungered for more of the forbidden fruit. Thunderous applause startled Erihn from the sensual darkness she'd entered. With a gasp, she broke the kiss, her shocked gaze meeting his heated one. She could taste him in her mouth, on her lips, and her body screamed for more. "Erihn," Vivian bellowed. "Can I have him when you're done?" Stunned, Erihn pushed her way out of his arms and turned to gape at her friends. Too late, she realized her mistake. One hand released her neck and brushed her hair away from her cheek. A finger traced the scar that emerged from her hairline just above her ear to slash down through her cheek to her jaw, then along her jaw to the corner of her mouth. The signature of a madman. Horrified, she jerked from his touch, her breath coming in shallow pants. She risked a glance at the handsome face of the man who'd kissed her so completely. Shadowed eyes stared at her, his expression hard. A low, almost feral growl sounded from those perfectly sculpted lips. Shocked, she dropped her gaze and stared hard at his throat. One perfect kiss. She couldn't look at him, couldn't risk finding revulsion and pity in those miraculous eyes. Panic set in, tearing her composure. She darted to the left as the stranger reached for her again and jumped off the stage. Whispers broke behind her as she ran up the aisle and out of the coffeehouse, desperate to escape her imperfection.

Chapter 2 Avon, Colorado "So what did you think of him?" Shai asked.

From the tone of voice, Erihn knew her friend was smiling. "Who?" She shifted the phone into a more comfortable position. Shai snorted. "You know darn good and well what I'm talking about. Fayne, the handsome rogue who kissed you right out of your shoes last night in front of two hundred complete strangers." "You're exaggerating." "Am not! He marched right up there in front of everyone in that room and staked his claim to you." "Shai," Erihn squeaked, her cheeks heating with embarrassment. "He did nothing of the sort. I think he liked my poem and was just... just... caught up in the moment." "Ha! If he'd been any more caught up in the moment, you'd have been stripped bare on stage and he'd taken you then and there." She hunched her shoulder as her body heated with remembrance. "He was a bit intense..." "The mistress of understatement," Shai drawled. "You were lucky to escape intact, my dear." "Oh, please..." "So, what are you going to do now?" Erihn stifled a sigh of relief at the abrupt change of subject. "Well, I'm going to start organizing my research for the next book." "No, I didn't mean that." Shai interrupted. "I meant, what are you going to do about Fayne?" She frowned. "What are you talking about? I don't have to do anything about Fayne. I won't be seeing him again." "Think so? I have a feeling he might make an appearance sooner than you think." Shai answered in a singsong voice. Erihn pulled the handset away from her ear and scowled at it before tucking it into her shoulder again. "What are you going on about? This friend of yours walked into The Brew House and, for some reason, possibly demon possession, he ventured forth across a crowded room and kissed me. What's the big deal?" "Sounds like Fayne's slipping. This isn't like him at all. He is rather well-known for his... um...technique. Are you telling me his kiss was no big deal?" Shai sounded doubtful. "It was... okay." Erihn squirmed. "Not good enough, Erihn. Keep in mind that I know him. Not well, mind you, and certainly not in the biblical sense, but I've heard many stories about him and the word 'okay' was never mentioned. Spectacular or stupendous is more in line with his particular abilities, or so I've been told." "Well, maybe he was a little better than okay..."

"How much better?" Shai pounced. Erihn shook her head, a smile curving her lips. As an inquisitor, Shai was like a cat with a mouse. Her victims either gave in or died from exhaustion. "Well, maybe he was a little better than justokay ." "You're so hopeless!" Shai sighed in exasperation. "On a scale of one to five, where one is mildly amused by his technique and five is wanting to throw him on the floor and nail him, where did Fayne's kiss fall?" "I don't believe in kissing and telling," she responded primly. "You haven't been properly kissed before." Shai's patience was nearing an end and the tension sounded in her voice. "Now, spill the beans or I'll come to Avon and pour champagne down your throat until you admit it!" "Okay, he was at least a four." Exhausted, Erihn collapsed on the couch. "Finally!" Shai yelled and Erihn winced, pulling the phone away from her tortured eardrum. Cautiously, she brought the phone back into place. "Will you shut up? Val will hear you!" "I don't have to yell for that, he's sitting right here." "What?!" Erihn sat up sharply, mortification sending ribbons of heat directly to her cheeks. "Don't you dare let him know..." "She said he kisses like a bandit," Shai wasn't speaking into the receiver. "No!" Erihn yelled as she heard Val's throaty laughter. "Darn it, Shai!" "He already figured it out." She sounded smug. "He knew something was up when you ran out of The Brew House like that." "I'm going to kill you." Erihn sagged against the couch and groaned. "I'll never be able to look Val in the face again." "Darling, don't be that way," Shai purred. "Val adores you and he only wants what's best for you. He'd never think about embarrassing you over this." "Unlike some people I know," Erihn grumbled. "I love you, Erihn, and I'm delighted Fayne has awakened the woman who was sleeping beneath those hideous clothes. Now, we just need to find you a nice man who'll understand and love you." "Shai, I was never asleep." Erihn lunged to her feet. "I was just-" "Hiding. Erihn, hold on. I'm going to shoo Val from the room so we can have some frank girl talk." She heard Shai pull away from the phone and say something to Val. He rumbled in response and then, a few seconds later, she heard the sound of a door closing. "I'm back. Now, admit it, darling, you've been

hiding for the better part of the past eighteen years." "You don't understand." Pain twisted Erihn's stomach. Her friends couldn't understand what it was like to be at the mercy of a madman for days on end. While the physical damage had been excruciating, the mental damage that'd been inflicted was far more devastating and harder to heal. "You're right. I don't know what it's like to be raped. But I know how it is to be terrorized. I also know what it's like to try to hide from the world. There comes a time when you have to put the darkness behind you and step into the light. I want you to step into the light, darling. It's time." Tears stung Erihn's eyes. "There are those of us who prefer the darkness and I'm one of them," she said stiffly. "We don't need to stand in the light when we're better suited to the dark." "Bull-hockey." She pressed her lips together to control the trembling as tears spilled over. She felt as if she were teetering on a precipice with two possible fates before her. One was to step back onto the safe and familiar ground, and the other was to leap into the unknown and see if she could fly. While a part of her wanted to leap into the abyss, a larger part of her soul wanted to step back to the solid earth and remain there, safe and secure. Coward. "Pish tosh! You're the least cowardly person I know." Erihn started. She wasn't even aware she'd spoken out loud. She walked over to the stereo, shoved a CD into the player and pushed the play button. "Oh, Erihn, you don't have to jump into anything," Shai continued. "I want you to think about it. Think about getting out with people other than us, maybe dating a nice gentleman who'll understand what you've been through." Shai paused, sounding a bit unsure. "I only want you to be happy." "I know, Shai, I know. But I want you to understand that Iam happy." Erihn frowned as the opening strains of Mozart'sRequiem poured from the speakers. She pushed the power button again to silence the melancholy music. "And lonely," Shai interrupted. "You're lonely, even if you won't admit it to me. You and I both know it." Erihn gave a faint laugh. "How can I be lonely when my head is filled with strangers clamoring for me to write their stories?" "That isn't the same at all and you know it. You need interaction with other people. You're alone far too much." Shai sighed. "Erihn, I just want you to think about expanding your horizons a bit. After you finish this book maybe? Val and I can double date with you or something." She couldn't prevent the bark of laughter that escaped her lips. Somehow, she couldn't see Val sitting around, making guy talk with a reserved man of any type. "I don't think so." "Well, think about it. I know a lot of very nice men..." "Okay, conversation over. The last thing I need is a blind date," Erihn interrupted. "Truly, Shai, I

appreciate your concern. I'm not sure why one little kiss brought on this tangent of yours." "It wasn't the kiss, Erihn, it was your response to it. You've never responded to a man like that," Shai pointed out. "You make it sound like droves of men have been turned from my door, and that isn't the case at all. I haven't had the opportunity to date. You know I've been busy." "For eighteen years?" "Shai." "No one is that busy." "Shai!" "Not even theQueen is that busy..." "SHAI!" "Please, just think about it while you're working at Jennifer's." "Oh, look, someone's knocking at the door," Erihn lied in frustration. "I think it's the pizza guy." "Erihn, there's no pizza place in the valley that'll deliver all the way up the mountain," Shai ground out. "New place," Erihn lied swiftly. "Gotta go, love ya!" Wincing as she heard Shai's growl of displeasure, she hit the disconnect button. Blessed silence. Shai would get her later for hanging up like that. Erihn sighed as she dropped the phone into the cradle. She felt like she'd spent fifteen rounds in the ring with a heavyweight. Mentally and physically exhausted, she walked to the open French doors. The late afternoon air was still warm and the scent of pine and the rattle of the aspen leaves were endearing and familiar. Surrounded by lush plants and a view that staggered the imagination, the hot tub beckoned. A trill of anticipation ran through her. She stepped onto the deck and into the brilliant Colorado sunshine. She scanned the thick trees and dense undergrowth for any sign of movement. No neighbors for miles around. She was alone. Really alone. Smiling, Erihn walked to the hot tub and her snack, abandoned when the phone had rung. A tray loaded with a wineglass and two cellophane-wrapped plates sat on the ledge of the hot tub. One plate contained cheese cubes, chunks of summer sausage, Greek olives and pâté while the other contained a selection of pita triangles and crackers. A bottle of Kendall-Jackson Chardonnay sat beside the tray, condensation forming on the bottle.

Mac, darling man that he was, had left a welcoming note on the fridge inviting her to partake of the food he'd prepared for her. The only confusing part was that there was two of everything; two steaks marinating in fresh herbs, two prepared salads and two potatoes, scrubbed and ready for baking. Maybe he'd assumed she'd bring a friend? This would be an excellent place for a lover's rendezvous. A beautiful house nestled in the mountains. No neighbors for miles to break the solitude. Perfect for two lovers wanting time away from the world. For her, it was the flawless place to get some serious plotting and writing done. Her briefcase, filled with notebooks and research material, lay within easy reach of the tray. It was time to get to work. She eyed the bubbling, steamy water. This new diversion had been added since she'd last visited and she'd never been in a hot tub before. She reached and dipped her fingers into the clear blue water. It wrapped around her hand like a lover's caress, soothing her skin and urging her to partake of its delicious warmth. Dizzy with anticipation, Erihn cast a wary glance around the deck and surrounding wilderness. Spying no movement, save that of the breeze in the trees, she reached for her cardigan and slid it off her shoulders. Tossing the bulky garment on the nearest chair, she unbuttoned her ivory cotton camp shirt. The sun was warm on her skin, bordering on decadent, as she slid the shirt off her body, tossing it onto the sweater before reaching for her skirt. One button and a quick zipper later, she stepped out of the denim garment, letting it slide to a heap on the deck. Clad in serviceable white cotton panties and bra, she sidled to the steps leading into the hot tub. Taking a deep breath, she held it as she squared her shoulders and shucked her underclothes. Naked and feeling defenseless, she scrambled up the short steps into the warm oasis. She exhaled loudly as the water surrounded her, welcoming her into the crystal blue depths. She settled into the seat nearest the tray with a groan of delight. Reaching over, she poured herself a glass of wine, the lovely golden color shimmered in the sunlight. Raising the glass in a silent toast, she took a sip of the nectar. This was heaven. No doubt about it, the first thing she'd do when she got home would be to purchase a hot tub. Maybe she could squeeze it onto her tiny porch if she got rid of the rack of neglected plants. Warm water seduced her bare skin in silken waves as she stretched to turn the jets off. The only sounds were the birds and the rustle of leaves as she settled against the backrest to enjoy the view. Jennifer's house was perched high on Red Mountain on the edge of a jagged peak. Her land dropped away just beyond the deck and Vail Valley lay below. The tiny ribbon of Interstate 70 looked insubstantial from this distance. The Eagle River bubbled through the valley to twine intimately with a small rural road on its journey from the mighty Colorado River. Snow-capped mountain peaks pushed at the blinding blue sky and nary a cloud was in sight. Summer in the Rockies was as close to heaven as one could get here on earth. She yawned. Soaking in the hot tub while watching the sunset was just the ticket for her hangover. That's what she got for drinking too much champagne last night. Hopefully, her new friend Kendall-Jackson would take care of the rest of her headache. According to Vivian, the best cure for a hangover was a shot of the hair of the dog that bit you. And if there were anyone who'd know a good hangover cure, it would be Vivian.

Erihn was more than ready to enjoy her month of solitude before diving into her new book, and she loved coming out for her yearly visit. Several years ago, Jennifer extended an open invitation to use the house anytime she wished. Now, it had become a tradition that, with each new book, she came to stay while putting her thoughts in order. A month of quiet was what she needed to organize her notes and plot out her book, and this year was no different. Her latest novel had been released almost two months ago, andVelvet Lover still hovered near the top of the bestseller lists. Her beloved little were-cats were a success. Who would have thought the mythical were-cat-a man who turned into a panther at the full moon-would catch the hearts and fantasies of millions of romance readers? Then, there were his nocturnal proclivities... Erihn cringed at the thought of the steamy love scenes she'd written. The graphic scenes startled even her.Velvet Lover was a radical departure from her usual style and her readers were eating it up. Most of them anyway. She frowned. Someone out there didn't like her were-cats and they weren't very shy about telling her so. At first, the letters had been innocuous, commenting upon her talent before suggesting she return to writing about "normal" subjects. But, after the news release that a sequel calledVelvet Rhapsody was in the works, the notes had taken a more sinister tone. The latest accused her of being a pervert and a poor moral influence on her readers. In general, she discounted the letters; after all, it wasn't as if the writer knew where she lived. All of the letters were sent to her editor and that mailing information was in the back of her books. But a woman with her history couldn't be too careful. Erihn frowned and sunk lower in the water until it reached her chin. She didn't want to think aboutthat . Unbidden, his name popped into her mind. Richard Michael Chapman. Despite the warmth of the water, she shivered. Darkness beckoned at the edge of her consciousness and she pushed it away. No way would she go back there, not now, not ever. The view was beautiful, the water was warm, the wine was crisp and it was time to concentrate on other things. Maybe she should allow herself to think about last night's adventures? Unbidden, a smile curved her lips. Color scorched her cheeks as fragmented visions of the handsome Fayne danced through her mind. He was... something else. Meow! A giggle escaped her before she could prevent it. Startled, Erihn sat up and clamped a hand over her mouth. Look at her, acting like a giddy schoolgirl! She was thirty-six years old, too old for a handsome rogue to set her mind to flight. It'd never happened with anyone else. Her hand dropped to the water with a slap. That was true. When she was kidnapped, she'd been a seventeen-year-old girl, too young and busy to date. After that, she'd never wanted a man near her, not that they'd come running. Not with a face like hers.

It was dark in the club last night... But he'd touched her and traced her scar with his fingers. Unbidden, she raised her hand to follow the scar's path down her cheek. Maybe he didn't care. Erihn frowned and forced her hand away from her face. Men liked women who were beautiful, witty, and secure in their sexuality. She wasn't any of those things, and she had enough emotional baggage for a fully loaded 747. You can still dream. Yes, that she could still do and do well. She could dream her life away. There were times when all she had were her secret dreams, the ones she never released into the light of day. She took a small sip from her glass. Setting it back on the edge of the hot tub, she selected a chunk of sharp cheddar and popped it in her mouth. Leaning against the edge, she closed her eyes as a delicious languor spread through her limbs. Fantasies. Everyone had them and, as a romance writer, they were her stock in trade. Last night had certainly been a fantasy, except it'd come true. Erihn smiled. Tall, dark and wicked he'd been. And with a name like Fayne, maybe that added to the attraction. What did "Fayne" mean? She'd have to look it up. Eyes still closed, she reached for the tray and fumbled for another piece of cheese. And that kiss. She bit into the morsel and chewed thoughtfully, her toes curling at the memory of the embrace. Immediately an image of Fayne appeared. Dark and lean, his movements sensual, predatory as he'd approached her. There was something untamed, feral about him that defied description. The patrons of the bar had faded to obscurity as her attention was drawn to him, only him. His violet eyes... Violet eyes. She'd never heard of anyone with violet eyes save Elizabeth Taylor. They were mesmerizing. Maybe her new hero could have violet eyes, and kisses that could melt butter and the heroine's resistance. A man like Fayne was someone most women could only dream about-dark, predatory and dangerous. Women would fall all over him. He certainly wouldn't have need of a scarred woman... Erihn's eyes popped open at the intrusive thought. Hesitantly, she glanced at her body, but the water obscured the imperfections. A huff of air escaped her. If no one ever saw the marks, then she could ignore them, at least for a little while. Until she slept. She shook herself from the disturbing thoughts. Right now, she needed to work on her book, her hero in particular. Turning, she propped an arm on the edge of the tub as she reached for the briefcase and her

notebook inside. Opening the pad, she placed it on the side of the tub, safe from the water, and wrote the date on the page. So far, she had precious little material about this hero. All she knew was his name, Tuomas, and he'd been mentioned several times in the first book. It never occurred to her that the readers would latch onto his name and want to read his story. "The hero should be blonde," Erihn spoke out loud. Again, images of Fayne invaded her mind, his mocking smile, those mysterious eyes. She groaned and tossed her pen on the notebook. "Go away," she muttered. Gripping the ledge of the tub, she propped her chin on her arms. Raising her feet, she floated on her stomach, her toes brushing the far side of the tub. The warm water soothed her skin with the intimate touch of a lover. Cautiously, she spread her legs just the slightest bit, allowing the warm water to caress sensitive flesh. Despite the warmth of the water, her nipples pearled. She shifted her legs further apart, the movement causing the water to lap against her nether lips. Another soft huff of air escaped her and she gave herself to the fantasy that called her name. Fayne stood at the edge of the hot tub, a cream-colored towel draped about his narrow hips. He watched her; his gaze scorched her skin. "I've been waiting for you." Wordless, Erihn extended her hand, beckoning him to join her in the water. She stared transfixed as he released the towel, dropping it unselfconsciously behind him on the steps. The sunlight gleamed on the golden skin of his shoulders. Dark hair formed a T on his chest, covering him from nipple to nipple, and trailing down his flat stomach to the thatch that surrounded his manhood. Eieda! Erihn blinked as he stepped into the water. His hand cupped her chin, forcing her gaze to his as he pulled her into his arms. "I've waited so long," he purred. She sighed as his arms surrounded her, tucking her against his body. His head dipped, his lips grazing her shoulder, sending shivers of desire through her. His feet bracketed hers, his arousal pressing against her stomach as he placed open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone. She flattened her hands against his back, relishing the heat and the strength of him. An ache blossomed between her thighs as his mouth grazed her neck, forcing her head back. She moved restlessly against him as he trailed kisses up her throat, his hands cupping her backside, pressing her against his burgeoning erection. A groan escaped as she gave in to the temptation of his big warm body. She pulled away from the symphony his mouth was creating on her skin and shifted until she could reach him. She licked his nipple and he froze beneath her mouth. Delighted with his response, she licked him again, this time capturing the tender flesh between her teeth and worrying it with her tongue. Breath hissed between his teeth. He released her, sliding his hands up her arms as he put her

away from him. Reluctantly, she released the nubbin of flesh with a soft pop. She looked into his dark eyes. "This is for you, angel." He picked her up easily and deposited her on the flat ledge of the tub. He propped her hands behind her so she was leaning back, angling away from him. He towered over her, but she felt no fear as his hands skimmed her shoulders, then down between her breasts, blazing a trail of heat in his wake. Caressing a tight circle around her belly button, he dipped his head to tease it with his tongue. He sank into the water, parting her legs. Placing teasing kisses up her inner thigh; Erihn tensed as he raised her legs to balance on his shoulders. Startled, she placed her hands on his head to stop his devilish plan. But he captured her hand. Pressing a damp kiss to her palm, he released her. "No fear, angel." She drew a shaky breath as he resumed a leisurely journey. His mouth covered her and she cried out, leaning into him. Ribbons of pleasure furled beneath her skin as desire caught in her blood. A moan escaped as she rocked helplessly against his magical tongue. Sunlight danced against her eyelids as Fayne worked his sorcery on her body. Lust spiraled her higher and higher, racing for the peak. The precipice beckoned. He stopped. She opened her eyes as he slipped from between her thighs. Rising, his broad shoulders blocked the sunshine. Capturing the backs of her knees, he spread her wide enough to accept his hips. Pressed intimately against her, she longed for his invasion. She reached for him, her hands cupped his shoulders when he captured her chin, forcing her gaze to meet his. His lips moved... "Honey, I'm home."

Fayne blinked. One minute, the fetching sight of Erihn lazing in the hot tub greeted him, and, a second later, she'd disappeared beneath the water. He dropped his duffel bag and strode to the hot tub. The clear water revealed a nude Erihn, holding her breath while crouching in the corner, her arms wrapped around herself protectively. He grinned. She certainly couldn't stay down there forever. He stripped off his leather jacket and tossed it over a chair to join her clothing. Might as well make himself at home while he waited for her to reappear. He picked up her wineglass and took a drink, the wine tart on his tongue. Selecting a chunk of cheese, he bit into it, relishing the bite of perfectly-aged cheddar. He refilled her glass, then leaned on the edge of the tub to await her re-emergence. He didn't have to wait long. With a splash, her head and shoulders popped out of the water. Thick brown hair streamed into her

eyes as she blindly floundered for the edge. She panted for air as she fumbled for purchase on the slick fiberglass ledge. Fayne abandoned his borrowed glass on the tray and grabbed her wet hand. She froze. He secured her hand on the edge before releasing her. Reaching over, he shoved her hair out of her face. Horrified brown eyes stared at him. "What are you doing here?" She spluttered. He grinned. "I live here." Erihn jerked away from the edge and, with a startled cry, she lost her precarious footing on the bottom of the tub. With a splash, she went under again. He lunged for her, banging his knees against the wooden side of the tub surround. Bending, he captured one slippery arm. He caught her other arm and hauled her to the surface, cradling her against his chest. Slender fingers clutched at him as she leaned into him, coughing water across his shirt. He grimaced at the sensation of the spreading wetness on his shoulder. "I don't think you make a very good mermaid." He commented, relishing the feel of her warm, damp flesh through his clothes. She might wear bulky clothing, but there was nothing wrong with her body. Full breasts pressed against his chest, her nipples erect, while her long shapely legs dangled in the water. He couldn't see the rest of her. What a pity. Fayne took a deep breath, then tensed. He could smell her arousal. Hot and fluid, the scent of warm woman surrounded him. His body responded and his jeans grew uncomfortably tight as a familiar tension invaded below his waist. She shoved at his chest, forcing him to release her. He almost smiled as she slid back into the water, crossed her arms over her breasts and glared at him, but he had a feeling that might be a big mistake. She wouldn't take being laughed at lightly. She was truly a delightful mass of contradictions. She fascinated him. "You don't live here," she accused. "You followed me." Fayne shook his head. "I've been staying here off and on since last December. Obviously, Jennifer didn't tell you." "N-n-no." She looked so confused and dismayed that he battled the urge to take her into his arms. Instead, he stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets, then stifled a groan as his pants tightened across his groin. He withdrew his hands and forced his arms to his sides. "She must've forgotten," he offered. "Could you please turn around?" She blurted. She looked so miserable, standing there trying to cover up every inch of her delectable pink skin, he decided to take pity on her. Turning, he retrieved her sweater from under the pile of clothes on the chair behind him. Without looking back, he offered the garment over his shoulder, grinning when she snatched it out of his hand. He tried to ignore the rustle of clothing as she pulled the sweater on, all the while muttering under her breath. "I cannot believe this... How could Jennifer... I'm so annoyed... He must be lying."

Fayne walked over to the deck railing as he heard her splashing her way out of the hot tub. He leaned against the rail, taking in the stunning view of the valley at his feet. Several mountain peaks over, he noticed clouds gathering. Dark and menacing, a storm was coming, and it was going to be a big one. "I'm not lying. Call Jennifer and ask her," he said mildly. He was surprised when Erihn appeared beside him. Her hair covered most of her face, but her dark eyes were throwing darts at him through the damp strands. She had a briefcase clutched to her chest. Angling her chin up, she stared at him. "I think I shall," she announced. She turned on one heel and he watched her stalk toward the doors leading to the living room. Her cardigan barely covered her shapely backside and he whistled in appreciation. She stiffened, her steps faltered. Squaring her shoulders, she marched into the house, slamming the door behind her. Fayne chuckled as he turned back to stare at the approaching storm. Whatever her physical faults, she had a great pair of legs and an ass to kill for. He walked back to the hot tub, retrieved his borrowed wineglass and offered a silent salute to the coming storm.

"What do you mean, he'sstaying here?" Erihn fought to keep the rising panic out of her voice. "Darling, I'mso sorry I didn't tell you. I simply forgot. With the last-minute packing and everything else, it slipped my mind." Jennifer said. "Besides, Fayne is harmless for the most part..." "For themost part," Erihn hissed. "How could youdo this to me?" She gripped the phone as she tiptoed to the window. The master bedroom overlooked the deck and the abandoned hot tub. Through the blinds, she saw Fayne stretched out on a lounge chair. He'd absconded with her snack tray and was making steady inroads into the contents. Cad! Not only had he invaded her sanctuary, but he'd made off with her food also. Without warning, he sat up and pulled off his shirt. Her mouth went dry. Golden skin stretched taut over rippling muscles, obscured only by a fine dusting of hair on his chest. A narrow line of dark hair vanished into the top of his jeans, as if it were a roadmap to his manhood, neatly dissected his washboard stomach. Long, muscular legs were encased in worn denim and he'd kicked off his shoes. He was the picture of a relaxed male, far more handsome than her daydreams had allowed. He reached for another morsel when Erihn caught sight of his right arm. "He has atattoo ," she squeaked. Fayne looked up, those catlike eyes boring into hers. Startled, she jerked away from the window and almost dropped the phone.

"He does?" Jennifer was saying. "What is it? Better yet,where is it?" "It looks like a ring of thorns on his arm," Erihn whispered. "How boring. I would have expected a more interesting place from Fayne," Jennifer commented. "I wonder if he has any more." "This isn't funny," Erihn hissed. She tiptoed over to her suitcase, lying open on the massive bed. "Why are you whispering?" Jennifer asked. "I don't want him to hear me." She began pawing through the jumble of tangled clothing until she located her black sweatpants. "Where is he?" Jennifer laughed. "Right outside the door?" "On the deck," Erihn propped the phone against her shoulder and struggled into the worn cotton pants. "He can't hear you from the deck." "Sure could have fooled me." Erihn grunted as she pulled the pants over her damp skin. "What are you doing?" Jennifer demanded. "Getting dressed. I'm leaving," she snapped. "Erihn, let's not be hasty," Jennifer replied. "I've known Fayne for many years..." "How many?" "Hundreds." Erihn scowled, "Very funny, Jennifer. I really don't think this is a laughing matter. This is your house and you have the right to invite anyone you like. I just wish you'd told me he'd be here. I could've made other arrangements." She grabbed a pink sweatshirt with a print of Mickey Mouse on the front. "Erihn, please listen to me. I'm very serious when I say you're perfectly safe with Fayne. He'd never hurt you, or any woman for that matter," Jennifer said. "I'm begging you not to leave. He's staying in the basement guestroom. Other than stumbling over one another in the kitchen, you don't even have to see him." Erihn paused; her throat crowded with fear and her palms grew slick. She couldn't face it again. Nothing would ever induce her to sleep in a house with any man on the loose, let alone one as potent as Fayne. Nothing. "I'm sorry, Jennifer," her voice cracked. "Oh, Er..." The line went dead.

She frowned and tapped on the power button, but it was still lit. Setting the phone in the cradle, she glanced out the window. Her glorious sunshine was gone, obliterated by black clouds the likes of which she'd never seen. Flashes of lightning lit the darkening skies as the wind picked up. "No." Erihn stumbled outside to the tiny deck that extended from the bedroom sliding door. The thunderclouds were beginning their slow descent into the valley toward them. "Isn't this great?" She looked down to see Fayne standing at the railing; his beautiful ginger-colored hair whipped by the cool winds the storm generated. He was leaning forward, over the railing as if he urging the storm to move faster. His handsome face was alight with excitement. "Great isn't the word I'd use to describe it," Erihn said, her lips numb as despair washed over her. She was trapped. Until this storm blew over, there was no way down the mountain.

Edward drew an icy finger over the flowing script on the page. He knew the words by heart, yet he let his gaze travel over the crux of the letter again. "Erihn Spencer is in possession of a copy of Elsabeth's diary, stolen from me over two centuries ago. I don't care how you do it, but I expect you to return to me what is rightfully mine." So, Erihn was in possession of Mikhail's wife's diary, how very interesting. He knew Elsabeth had come into intimate knowledge of the preternaturals before her untimely death and she'd recorded everything in her journal. Uncovered years later, copies had been made of the decaying original in the hopes of securing and using the information at some point in time. Instead, they'd come up missing, stolen from Mikhail's ancestral home. Now, hundreds of years later, one had finally turned up. The immediate ramifications were devastating to Mikhail and his ilk. The diary could very easily contain information to bring down all of them in their attempt to overthrow the current Council of Elders, the ruling body of the preternatural underworld. His gaze moved down the page. "Leave no witnesses..." That was certainly easy enough. Edward smiled. First, though, there was the little matter of Fayne. Edward picked up a photograph that lay near the letter. It was a photo of one of Edward's most precious possessions. Max. Edward's eyes narrowed as he scanned the photo of Fayne chasing after Max as they played with a football. Max was his, and he belonged with him, not that were-creature. Soon, he'd reclaim his property. Edward dropped the photo on the letter, then reached forward, plucking a rose from an ornate arrangement on the table. He brushed the blood red bloom over his lips, enjoying the feel of the silken

petals over his chilled skin. The scent of roses teased his nostrils. He held the blossom an inch from his lips and gently blew. Icy breath passed his lips and curled around the rose. Within seconds, it was frozen solid. Edward admired his handiwork before crushing the blossom in his hands. Jagged shards of broken petals rained down on the photograph until Fayne's image was obliterated. His lips moved but no sound was issued. So be it.

About the Author J.C. Wilder lives in Westerville, Ohio where she's owned by a Japanese Akita named Severena and a really obnoxious Jack Russell Terrier named Copper Penny. She spends the majority of her time dusting her 6,000 books and staring at her blank computer screen in complete terror. After six years working for CompuServe Inc., she's working as a Business Analyst for the State of Ohio. When not writing, she devotes much of her time to studying the medicinal uses of herbs and essential oils and howling at the moon. You can write to her at [email protected] or visit her webpage at http://www.jcwilder.com.

Publisher info: Stories that stimulate your laughter, Provoke your tears, Evoke your secret fears, Stories that make you think...The stuff that dreams are made of...LTDBooks www.ltdbooks.com