Deep Blue Goodbye

Deep Blues Goodbye Altered States, Book One

L.E. Harner & T.A. Webb

Copyright Deep Blues Goodbye is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Copyright © 2012 by Laura Harner and T.A. Webb Cover photograph by DWS Photography Cover Art by Laura E. Harner Edited by Jae Ashley All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-1-937252-24-3 Warning: All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any many without written permission, except for brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this book. Contact

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Dedication To Tal who I love and miss so much, to Havan and Lee for helping make me a better writer, and to Laura for taking a chance on such an unknown commodity and making this project so much fun. Tom

A very special thank you to all of you who have made this work a success: Amanda Leyer, Angel Martinez, Dan Skinner, Havan Fellows, Jae Ashley, Lee Brazil, Talon Stephan, and especially the twin of my heart, Tom. Laura

Trademark Acknowledgments The authors acknowledge the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following trademarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Barbie Dreamhouse: Mattel, Inc. Jose Cuervo 1800: Tequila Cuervo La Rojena, S.A. Angry Birds: Rovio Entertainment Ltd

Table of Contents Copyright Dedication Trademarks Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven About the Authors

Prologue It had been relatively quiet as far as cop funerals went in New Orleans. No parasol parades, no second lining through the streets, no brass instruments or woodwinds belting out the blues. Just a quiet memorial service, because the city had experienced enough shocks for one week…for one lifetime. The death of New Orleans Police Detective Travis Boudreaux should have made a splash, but the discovery that vampires were real stole his thunder. Cops from Baton Rouge all the way to the bayou showed up to pay their respects, but Sam sat alone at his request. Maxine Dupree, the division lieutenant at the time, stood to speak on Trav’s behalf, but she’d barely started when the strangest expression crossed her face. She hadn't been facing the crowded rows of officers. She’d been looking toward the open casket, at the dead Travis Boudreaux, his dress uniform crisply pressed, medals brushing softly against the heavy wool. The same Travis Boudreaux he’d held, he’d kissed, he’d been halfway to loving was now sitting up and looking at him from inside his own coffin. Looking at him for answers. “Sam? What the fuck is going on?”

~~~ “Sam? Hey, Garrett? You okay? What do you want me to do here?” The nasal voice grated against his nerves and brought him back to the problem at hand. Stalling for time, Sam rubbed a hand over his shaved head and blinked rapidly, clearing the last of the cobwebs away. After two years, he’d gotten pretty good at putting that memory back in its box. Too bad the box never stayed shut for long.

“Should I enter ‘em into the spook DB or not?” asked the obviously impatient Paula Hawkins. She was a sharp enough kid, but since she’d come straight out of patrol, she lacked the experience that gave a good detective the edge…and the patience necessary to work a long case. It was his job to teach her those skills. Heaven help both of them. He looked over at the fresh-faced young woman and wondered what she knew of life. Did she have any inkling of just how quickly dreams and desires could slip through your hands? She’d not been on the streets long enough to understand all the ways people could fuck each other over. The way that life could crush your dreams. He’d give her a few months working homicides like this one…she’d catch on soon enough. He blew out a sigh. Two teenagers making out on top of a grave. Both staked through the heart. As senior detective, it was his call whether to transfer this case to the Odd Squad. The murder weapon…that was the key. He sat back in his rickety chair and considered. Sure, it could have been superhuman strength, but it also could have been a modified crossbow or spear gun. This felt a whole lot like that string of staged attacks the previous year—multiple reports of young vampires chasing people through the Vieux Carré that turned out to be a bunch of teenagers scaring tourists. There was no sense jumping on the paranormal bandwagon and turning this case over too soon. These kids were his now. He’d take care of them himself. Sam looked down at the open folder on his desk, then rubbed a gentle finger over the bloody pictures of Brock and Clarissa. High school seniors with their whole lives ahead of them and all they’d wanted to do was be undead. Ignoring his trainee’s eye roll, he went with his gut. “Dumb kids doing dumb things. Dead is dead, and no amount of celebrity worship is going to change that. Just a couple of vampire wannabes, all Goth’d up and nowhere better to go than the cemetery to make out. Whatever happened to the back seat of a car?” With the fresh wash of memories still a bitter taste on his tongue, his words came out more harshly than he'd intended. Drawing in a deep breath, he tossed the case file to Hawkins.

“Some stupid shit is out there murdering kids. I don’t care if this was a prank gone way-the-fuck wrong or if someone thought these two deserved to die. They’re ours now. We don’t need to bother the Odd Squad with this one just yet. Let’s practice some good, old-fashioned investigating, Detective Hawkins. You take the files and make a list of all the people you think we should talk with and we’ll get started.” He looked down at the file one more time, reaching out to touch it and whispering to Brock and Clarissa. “I’ve got you now.”

**** Two weeks later… Spanish moss hung from live oaks, and created the illusion of a lacy veil surrounding one of the oldest crypts in the cemetery. All the sounds he’d heard when he first arrived silenced the minute he’d stepped through the elaborately forged iron gate of the small enclosure. Nothing seemed able to penetrate. Not the sound of the nighttime traffic on I-10 as it curved around the city. Not the tinny, happy mix of drunken tourists and jazz. Not even the slap of flesh of the two kids who were fucking in the northwest corner, near the alleged tomb of Voodoo Queen Marie Laveau. As if the very unconsecrated ground on which he stood in this deepest, darkest corner smothered every sign of the living. Vincent shivered, despite his inability to feel the cold for nearly three years now. Something about this place gave him the willies. The last time he’d been to a cemetery, he’d destroyed two desecraters he’d caught fucking on the empty grave of one of the brethren. Of course, he’d taken steps to make sure it hadn’t looked like a vampire kill, because there was no sense in drawing unwanted attention. Given the sounds he’d heard as he arrived tonight, it was reasonable to assume the Master appreciated his previous work and summoned him tonight for a similar mission. Despite his reputation for violence, he might have just scared them off when he’d been alive. Maybe because they were kids. Now that he was dead, he didn’t fucking give a shit. God, these kids were stupid enough to fuck on a grave in these days and times, it was like asking to be killed. Kind of like that dip-shit vampire who’d been even younger than Vincent

that he’d found trying to break into a crypt a couple of months ago. The stupid ass mighta fucked up one of the older vamps. Vincent took care of that little problem, too. In fact, maybe the Master would see his usefulness as an enforcer. He had plenty of practice, both dead and alive. He bit back the laugh that almost escaped. A whoosh of wind brushed his hair and heralded the arrival of the Master. He bit back the flare of impatience that swept through him at the ancient vampire’s ability to fly. As a juvenile among the undead, his training was still limited to stalking and shadow-making. Necessary skills for the hunt. He smiled at that thought. Now that the Master was here, they would take care of business, and with any luck, he’d be invited for the night’s hunt. He’d never feasted as well as when he was with his sire after a kill. He lowered his head and waited to be addressed, the subservient pose his Master’s preference. He’d lowered his head for no man in life…but in death? There was no problem showing his sire the customary honor. With his head bowed, a second unexpected wind caught at his shirt. In less time than it took to blink an eye, he found himself pinned to the earth, awaiting his fate.

Chapter One Wearing nothing but blue jeans, Travis stood staring at the inside of a nearly empty refrigerator. Type A or…well, shit, he was down to his last bag. All right, first on his things-to-do-list for the night was buy more blood. And something other than the bland synth-A flavor. He removed the bag and put it in the squat chrome Normalizer that sat on his counter like a normal person’s coffee maker, then pressed the temperature control to Human. He knew there were some vamps that used the microwave, but he preferred his blood freshly oxygenated and heated to precisely 98.6 degrees. Saliva pooled in his mouth and he slid his tongue over his fangs in anticipation even as his mind rebelled at the thought of drinking blood. Two fucking years and he still hadn’t come to terms with being turned. While his dinner hummed, Travis listened to the noise outside his French Quarter home. The sounds of a brass jazz band interlaced with the voices of happy tourists, the shouts of the harkers, the whores. Living on Chartres Street let him feel in touch with the humanity he was no longer part of. The timer dinged just as the sound of his own name brought his attention to a familiar voice floating on the evening breeze. Someone was talking about him on the street below his third story sanctuary. “Sure, he lives here, but let me tell you something, Burkette. I’ve known Travis Boudreaux for close to ten years, and he ain’t gonna want to talk to you or anyone one else on the Odd Squad. Jesus, slow down, would you?” Maxine’s voice rasped out, full of smoke, bourbon, and brass. There’d been a day he’d counted her among his closest friends on the force, and the only one who’d known his secret, until that last case. After—he swallowed hard—after he’d been changed, she’d been one of the very few who would still talk to him. And she knew damn good and

well her words would carry on the night air. The loud comment was her way of letting him know trouble was coming. The Odd Squad. Otherwise known as Paranormal Criminal Investigations Unit of the New Orleans Police Department. The same NOPD that forced his medical retirement when he’d had the bad taste to sit up during his own funeral. Travis hadn’t been the first publicly confirmed vampire, thank god, but it had been damn close. His case had been the impetus for the first Vampire Protection Law in the US. Now all paranormal beings enjoyed Federal protection under the amended Civil Rights Act and Universal Bill of Rights. Of course, the laws had been rushed through, because vampires were the latest cause célèbre. Which meant there were holes big enough to drive a train through, but they got laws. The courts were jammed with cases challenging everything from right to vote to right to life. The steps of the Supreme Court looked like a circus came to town. The pounding on the wooden sliding door downstairs was followed by a surprisingly quiet request. “Travis Boudreaux? My name is Detective Danny Burkette, with PCIU. I need your help. May I come in?” Funny. Wasn’t that supposed to be a vampire’s line? Having to be invited in, crossing the threshold of a person’s home and all that. Thank god that tripe wasn’t true. Intrigued by the whisky-rich baritone, Travis lightly moved down the staircase and slid up the panels that constituted his front door. He leaned lazily against the wood frame, crossed his ankles, and hooked his thumbs into the front pockets of his button front jeans. He supposed he could have taken the time for a shirt and shoes, but if this was NOPD business, then fuck ‘em sideways. Standing on the narrow sidewalk was his good friend, Maxine Dupree. She was a tall, athletic woman, who made detective in the NOPD the same year he had in Baton Rouge. She’d once served on a temporary promotion to Lieutenant, but then had taken maternity leave and promptly hit a glass ceiling. Twice. Each time she returned to the force at the bottom rung of the promotion ladder. Of course that wasn’t what their

captain would call it. She was merely filling a temporary assignment until her position could be restored. Reduced funding from the aftermath of the hurricane made a lot of excuses fly in the Crescent City. Always a sharp dresser, tonight Maxine wore a light copper-colored jacket that made her dark skin glow. Dozens of beaded braids swung loose from a knot on the top of her head. Her dark eyes were full of concern and he read a clear warning in her expression. “Travis, baby, you’re looking good,” Maxine said as she started to move in for their customary hug. With a quick shake of his head, Travis opened his mouth wide enough to show fangs. “I wouldn’t do that”—he leaned back—”I haven’t eaten yet, Maxie. What the hell are you doing here at the crack of dead?” Maxine stepped back, her gaze sliding to her companion, then back to meet Travis’s gaze. He knew he’d made her uncomfortable. Showing vamp was something he’d never done to her before. Never done to anyone for that matter. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of being a vampire…not exactly. It was just taking a little getting used to. For more than two years, snarked his inner voice. He wanted to apologize, but damn…she’d brought a cop to his place. Maxine blew out a deep breath and he could see her reluctance in the tense set of her muscles, the tightening of her jaw. She hadn’t wanted to do this. Someone in the department was putting pressure on his friend. “Trav, this here’s Detective Burkette. I was ordered by Captain Cormier to bring him here and introduce you. Now, come on Burkette, let’s go. I’ve done what I was ordered to do. Mr. Boudreaux here is a lawabiding citizen with rights and is under no obligation to listen to you or anyone else from the NOPD.” She finished, her hands fisted on her sturdy hips as she turned to glare at the other detective. Detective Burkette stood ramrod straight and tried to control his breathing. He could hear the man’s pulse racing, and damn if he wasn’t mouth-wateringly delicious in a nerdy kind of way. If a mountain could be nerdy. He was at least two inches taller than Trav, and outweighed him by at least thirty pounds. Burkette wasn’t fat, just a solid wall of muscle wrapped up tight in gray slacks, a black turtleneck cashmere sweater, and

a steel blue corduroy blazer. His unruly mass of black hair spilled over his collar in stark contrast with denim blue eyes. His expression was equal parts determination and fear. Interesting. “Detective…” Travis drawled. “How may I help you?” Burkette blinked, swallowed, then sucked in a breath. The big man visibly repressed a shudder, finally seeming to gather his wits. “Sorry. That was…sorry,” he repeated. “Oh, for Christ’s sake, Burkette. Let me guess,” Maxie said, her disgust with the burly detective evident in every syllable. “They put you on the goddamn Odd Squad, and Travis here is the first fucking vampire you’ve actually met? And you’re in charge of the—” “Enough, Detective Dupree,” Burkette barked, apparently finding his backbone and effectively shutting off Maxine’s tirade. “Of course he’s not my first and we’re not going to stand outside and discuss my reason for being here. May I come in, Mr. Boudreaux?” he repeated his earlier request. “Maxie?” Trav asked his friend, although his gaze never left the big man’s face. “Up to you, babe. I’m not invited. My orders are to return to the station house as soon as the introductions are completed.” “All right, darlin’. You can tell the brass that I’ll hear the big goon out, but if I don’t like what he has to say, I’m booting him out on his ass. Detective Danny Burkette, we’ll talk on the third floor.” He pointed to the stairs. “After you….” Travis pulled the door down and followed his guest up the stairs. Jesus. He could smell the other man’s arousal. And something else…something disturbingly familiar.

**** Danny climbed the stairs, hyper-aware of the vampire behind him. Fuck, what was that all about? He'd been around plenty of vamps, including several masters, when he'd been at the academy and never responded like this. This guy was a young vamp, and shouldn't be able to

mesmerize. But from the minute they'd made eye contact Danny had hardly been able to look away. Christ. Boudreaux was nearly as tall he was, with a hard swimmer’s build, long arms and legs, and a broad chest that gave him the look of an athlete. His brown hair was cut fairly short with loose curls on top. He had bold features, a strong cleft chin and cool blue-gray eyes that seemed to see right through Danny. He ordered himself to ignore the presence of the vamp and focus on the surroundings. The entire first floor had been nothing but boxes stacked haphazardly into nearly every corner of the open space. The second floor, or what was visible from the narrow staircase, looked to be empty of any sign of occupation, as well. It wasn't until they reached the third floor that the townhouse showed signs of a livable space. There wasn't much furniture, but the long leather couch looked comfortable enough. A jam-packed bookshelf ran floor to ceiling on the wall in the far corner. A table in front of the bookshelf held a computer, and books and papers were spread out, as if the vampire had been working. A large screen television was mounted on the exposed brick wall. The floors were dark oak with a few throw rugs scattered about. The kitchen took one corner of the large open space and looked to be equipped with all the modern necessities. Slate-colored granite countertops, a restaurant quality gas range, and built-in refrigerator. It was also very Spartan. Nothing was on the pristine counter except a Normalizer. Christ…a Normalizer with a bag of blood. “Uhm…sorry.

We

didn't

mean

to

interrupt

your

meal.

Why…uh…why don't you go ahead and feed, then I can take you where we need to go?” Boudreaux moved to the counter and took the bag of blood from the electronic heater. He kept his cool gaze steady until Danny had to force himself not to squirm. “You said you wanted to talk. You didn't say anything about going somewhere.” Instead of grabbing a glass, Travis lifted the flesh-toned bag to his lips, sank his fangs into the container and started to suck. Danny couldn’t look away as the vampire’s jaw moved, sucking, slowly drawing

the blood into his mouth, swallowing the only nourishment his body could process. As he watched the chiseled lips move against the bag, it felt as if the vampire was sucking his blood, was biting his neck. He was so fucking hard it hurt. And he knew…just knew… the goddamn vamp was doing it on purpose. The effort to break eye contact with the vampire was painful, but Danny finally looked down to the folders he was holding, then around the room. He needed a place to present his case. Carefully keeping his eyes averted, Danny sat on the couch. With a sigh, he placed one folder on the coffee table and kept the other on his lap. No sense revealing his hand too early. Unable to block out the sound of the vampire’s mouth as Travis slurped his dinner, Danny repressed a shudder. God, that should be so disgusting, but so far, all his dick wanted to do was stand up and beg to be sucked next. Determined to be as casual around Boudreaux as he was around other vamps and supers, Danny began. “I assume you read about what the reporters are calling the Goth Murders. Two vampire wannabes staked through the heart and left at the St. Louis Cemetery Number One?” He looked up and blinked as Travis wiped his mouth with a damp paper towel. As if he’d just finished a frickin’ sandwich instead of a bag of blood. “Yeah, I saw it in the papers a couple of weeks ago. So what?” Travis said, his voice flat, as if bored. Suppressing a flash of irritation at the vamp’s cavalier attitude, Danny continued. “They were teenagers. Brock was seventeen. His girlfriend Clarissa turned eighteen just a few days before the murder. They were seniors at Metairie Heights Day School—” “Isn’t saying Metairie Heights an oxymoron? You know, like jumbo shrimp, living dead…Metairie and anything above sea level—” “Shut the fuck up. These. Were. Kids.” Jesus, he’d heard Travis was bitter after his forced retirement, but nothing had prepared him for this. The man was a total ass if he thought the death of the teenagers was anything other than a tragedy. “They were pinned to the ground by

wooden garden stakes forced though their chests, while they were still alive and most likely conscious when it started.” “Fine. It was horrible. Shocking even. What’s that got to do with me? The kids obviously ran into a rogue super of some kind. A vampire or lycanthrope. It wasn’t me. Now, is there anything else?” “How do you know it was a super?” Danny asked. “For fuck’s sake, Burkett. I’m dead, not stupid. I followed the clues…you’re a detective on the Odd Squad, you asked me about the murders, and only something super-human could have put a stake through a human body.” He brushed a hand over his sandy brown hair, leaving it tousled. “So, let me guess. You’ve hit a dead end and now you’re interviewing every registered vampire and werewolf in the city. Or, is it more specific…you think I did it?” Travis asked, his blue-gray eyes wide under raised brows. “What? You, a suspect? I thought you said you weren’t stupid, Boudreaux.” Danny stopped, took a deep breath and started over. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t seem to have explained this very well. Can you just…can we just relax for a minute? I’d like to tell you why I’m here.” Travis moved with the fluid grace of a dancer, the long, lithe muscles that would have made him an athlete in life, now made him sleek as a panther. Polished, smooth, elegant. Aware the vampire could hear every drumming beat of his heart, Danny swallowed hard and tried to control his racing pulse when Travis dropped into a chair next to the couch and draped his long legs over the arm. Even his bare, slender feet, only a few inches from Danny’s knee, looked elegant beneath the frayed hem of the faded jeans. He lost a moment of time thinking about running his tongue along the high arch, nibbling on an ankle, following a path…. Jesus. He shook his head in disgust. “Take a look at the case file,” he said. He hated how his voice had roughened and practically threw the thick file folder at the vampire. Travis gave him a long stare, but took the file. He closed his eyes and rubbed his hand over the smooth manila cardstock before he slowly opened the cover and began to read. When he shifted position to put his

feet on the floor and spread the folder over the coffee table, Danny knew Travis was interested. He hoped it would be enough. Travis closed the folder, sat back, and blew out a breath. “You’re right,” he sighed. “It was a horrific crime. Those poor, stupid kids. They may have thought they wanted to be vampires, but they sure as hell didn’t deserve this.” He jerked his chin in the direction of the folder. “But I still don’t understand what this has to do with me. Did I have to pass some sort of test before you’d tell me the rest of why you’re here? What aren’t you telling me?” “These kids weren’t the first, but we missed the connection. Hell, I’m not sure I understand exactly what the connection is, but it’s there.” “Spill it.” Travis dropped the folder onto the coffee table. “Did you know the PCIU technically belongs to the state now?” Danny leaned in and watched Travis. “We get a lot of publicity, so the governor appropriated the squad. He likes being on the leading edge with anything paranormal. So even though we’re still run out of NOPD, some folks don’t like us much. Well, hell, some folks never have liked us, don’t think we ought to investigate or protect the supers.” Danny stood and began to pace. “We don’t always hear about crimes that might have a less obvious supernatural connection. In this instance, I was already working a case with a similar MO. The NOPD detective didn’t enter his crime into the para-database because his vics were human, and the crime was similar to some false vampire attacks reported earlier in the year. Without his file, we missed the connection between the crimes at first.” “And what…it’s this connection that brings you here?” Travis asked, his voice taking on a steely edge. “Yes,” Danny said and handed the second folder to Travis, then sat again and waited. Travis opened the file, scanned the reports, and then flipped to the back and pulled out the crime scene photo. He stared for a long time before he slowly brought his gaze up but didn’t quite meet Danny’s. “Jesus,” Travis said.

“Yeah. The first victim was the genuine article…a real vampire. He was staked to the ground and left to fry in the sun.” Travis stood and began to pace the perimeter of the room. He stalked, front to back, side-to-side, head down, apparently deep in thought. Or maybe he was just too agitated to sit. Danny waited him out, and tried not to become too distracted by the nearly naked perfection of the man’s sleek body. Not man—vampire, he reminded himself, as he drank in the pale skin, the soft brown treasure trail leading to the button fly jeans with the faded patch just to the left…. “Okay, Detective Burkette, why are you here?” Travis asked, standing much too close. Danny felt the flush rise in his cheeks at where his mind had wandered. “There’s been another murder. Another vampire found dead in the daylight. I’m here to take you to the crime scene, if you’ll come. “

Chapter Two Travis breathed deeply and tried to separate the scents assailing his senses. Grass, dirt, and car exhaust all served as a backdrop for the heavy, old smell of sulfur. Detective Burkette stood beside him, breathing deeply, as if his proximity to a vampire might increase his own senses. “Aren’t you nervous being here with me?” His eyes closed to process the smells, Travis was genuinely curious. It seemed to him that most people either loved or feared vampires. Very few seemed to be as comfortable as the detective. “No. Why should I be?” “Aren’t you afraid I’ll bite you?” Laughter spilled out in the quiet of the cemetery. “Hardly. You just ate.” Intrigued by the other man’s response, Trav decided to dig a little deeper. “You want me. I smelled it on you back in my apartment. Are you on the Odd Squad because you’re a groupie? Do you like to fuck vampires?” “That would be no. I’ve…I’m…never mind. Let’s just stick to business.” “What business is that?” “The murders. Jesus, Boudreaux. The word is you were supposed to be a decent cop once. Try to stay focused, would you? The body was left just inside that iron fence. The sun came at him from over there.” Danny pointed to the east. “The sky would have been turning lighter for at least an hour before direct sunlight hit the vic. Staked spread eagle to the ground like that, he would have gotten weaker as dawn broke, but he wouldn’t have burned until the sunlight hit. It was a slow way to die.” “He was already dead.”

“Shit. You know what I mean. How many were here?” Danny waited while Travis processed what his senses told him. “Two vampires, I think. There is a lingering odor of sulfur and…” Frustrated, he searched his memory, trying to catalog the scents. “Can you move back? Or just wait here. I need to…wait here.” Trav watched the ground as he stepped carefully over the uneven patches of grass and crumbled stones that filled this back corner of the cemetery. He wasn’t going to fuck up evidence by stepping on it, even if the techs were already done with the scene. Supposed to be a decent cop. The words had hurt. He had been a damned good cop. It hadn’t been his fault vampires were real or that he’d been turned into one. He’d solved the gay bashing crime, hadn’t he? Well, technically, that had been him and Sam who’d closed that case. Actually, it had been Sam who’d done the heavy lifting at the end, since Travis had been a bit busy. Dying and all that. Sam…It was only natural that Sam would float to the top of his memories, considering Trav was here with an NOPD detective, looking into a vampire murder. He pushed thoughts of the other man aside. He’d spent long enough thinking about how he’d fucked up there. He put his mind firmly on the case. The old wrought iron gate creaked on rusty hinges as it swung outward, providing access to the small, unconsecrated portion of the cemetery. In days gone by, this would have been where they buried suicides, murderers, and adulterers. People deemed unworthy of God’s forgiveness. It was also where vampires who preferred to go to ground each day could find sanctuary if they were away from their preferred resting ground. There was a curious absence of noise, as if everything outside the bars ceased to exist, leaving the world in a peaceful silence. The smell of sulfur was stronger in here and left a vague impression of perspiration…of fear. Vampires didn’t sweat, did they? He paused for a moment, trying to recall if he’d ever read anything about vampires sweating. How could they? Putting the thought aside until he could return home to research, he catalogued everything he saw or sensed that might be useful.

There was no one in the belowground sleeping chamber, he was sure of that. Of course, this early in the night, it would be empty. All vampires would be out conducting their business, finding food, creating more little vampires. Whatever regular vampires did each night. His thoughts were broken by a frantic gesturing from the other side of the fence. Looking up, he wondered why he couldn’t hear Burkette. With one last look around, Trav turned and left the little compound. He’d have to add that to the list of things that needed thinking about. What was that damned smell that tickled the back of his mind? Why was there such a sense of peace inside the cemetery? Was it natural or paranormal? Who did this to the kids and the other vamp? Shit, he needed to look for connections between the first man—no, vamp—who was staked out and the second one.

**** Danny glanced at his watch. They needed to get back and discuss what Travis may have learned before it got too late. Or early? Working with paranormals screwed with his sense of time. Damn. “Okay, ready to go?” he asked as Travis closed the gate. The look on his face puzzled Danny. It was confusion laced with something—fear? Anger? Travis shook his head, as if clearing it. “Where to?” “Back to your place.” They reached the car and climbed in. “Why?” Travis turned a questioning face to him. Danny sighed. “Because I don’t expect you to go with me back down to the precinct, and I think we need to talk. Compare notes. See what jumps out, what your impressions are. As kind of a subject-matter expert.” Travis stared straight ahead and didn’t look at him at all. “Fine. But drop me in the Quarter and we’ll meet at Fangs. I have an errand to run, then we can talk.” “But—” Danny started, then rolled his eyes. Fucking vamps. Always with the mystery. He expected Travis to be different, being a former cop and all. Guess being undead changed a lot more about a man than just his heartbeat. And teeth. He glanced over and again was struck by the long,

sinewy muscles and subtle sexiness of the man beside him. The tousled hair, the slight flush—and how the hell did a vamp manage to have a flush?— and the hint of fangs at his mouth. He wondered how they would feel, scraping down his chest… He shook it off and started the engine. “Fine.” As they drove off into the night, Danny heard Travis sigh. “I need to get blood.” The flatness of his tone struck Danny, but he let the other man speak. “What I had earlier wasn’t enough, but it was all there was at the house. I need to get some more…unless you feel like being the main course tonight.” A slight chuckle at the end let Danny know he was trying to make him more comfortable. But really, all it did was send jolts of electricity down his spine and right to his cock. Damn, he had to get himself under control. He knew Travis could sense his arousal through his heart rate and scent. He tamped both down, thinking about the case and the photos of the dead vamps. How all that was left was a pile of ash and bone. That visual did the trick, he thought wryly. He couldn’t imagine that happening to Travis. The thought alarmed him, for some reason. Danny held the steering wheel with both hand and said tightly, “We’ll swing by Fangs and you can replenish your supply, then go back to your place.” At the other man’s evident jerk of surprise, he smiled. “Didn’t think a detective on the Paranormal Crimes Unit would know where you could get blood? Or were you planning on taking it straight from the source?” His voice trailed off as he realized maybe Travis had more in mind than just grabbing a few bags to store. Maybe he was going to hook up with one of the many fang-bangers that hung out there. “No, Detective, I don’t plan to bite anyone tonight. Or ever.” Danny barely heard the last two words and realized Travis wasn’t even aware he uttered them. Did that mean…? He wouldn’t push, but he knew there was more to this story. “Let’s do it then. Dinner was hours ago, I’m starving. I’ll grab something too. A po’ boy maybe.” He felt himself blushing at the thought of grabbing something else. It was a quiet drive to Fangs after that.

*

After dropping Travis outside the trendy club, Danny had time to sit and think about the facts of the case again. He made a mental set of bulletpoints of things he wanted to discuss with Travis. While Danny had studied at the academy and spoken with a few vamps there, the Masters, as a whole, were tightlipped about what they chose to share with normals. Whether out of self-preservation or pique, it didn’t help much when detectives were working cases such as this. He knew the older the vamp, the more powerful, and certain abilities manifested as the…whatever-itwas that enabled the dead to walk and carry on relatively normal lives. The two vamps that were staked were young, no more than two or three years old in undead years. That much the trainers knew; the younger the vamp, the less of the body remained when left exposed to the sun. Newly turned vamps flashed to nothing in the sun almost immediately. These two were still human shaped, with a little bone and traces of organs left intact. The harsh thing? The older the vamp, the longer it took for the sun to burn them enough to kill them. It was a painful, agonizing way to go. The slamming of the car door brought Danny’s mind back to the present and out of his morbid thoughts. “All ready?” Travis nodded, reaching around and setting a small cooler into the floorboard behind him. “They had what I needed. Let’s go.” After stopping into one of the many restaurants close to the bar—it just seemed wrong that food for humans and vamps were sold practically side by side—so Danny could grab his take-out version of an aftermidnight snack, the short drive back to Travis’s house was done in a silence not totally uncomfortable. When they arrived, Danny locked the SUV and followed Travis back up the two flights of stairs to his living space. He tried not to stare at the tight ass shown off to perfection in those button fly jeans and the long, long legs taking the stairs two at a time. But he failed miserably. After stashing the contents of the cooler in his fridge, Travis loaded a bag of blood into the Normalizer. While it warmed, he grabbed a plate for Danny and, unasked, set a longneck bottle of beer beside it. Danny took his dinner from the bag and put it on his plate while he watched as Travis

poured the blood into a tall mug. He could almost believe it was chicory rich coffee. Almost. Balancing his food and beer in one hand, Danny grabbed the case file and headed to the sofa. Pushing the jumble of books on the coffee table to one side, Danny set his plate near the edge so he could lay the file out. The two men sat side-by-side, thighs touching, while he spread the contents of the folders across the table. “There has to be something linking these cases together. We have four murders and depending on how you count, three different crime scenes,” Danny summarized. “The first murder, four weeks ago at St. Louis Number Three, also known as the Bayou Cemetery. was a young vamp, no more than two or three years undead, pinned to the ground with what appear to be garden-variety type stakes and left to burn. No ID. No missing person report.” He paused and took a swig of beer. Travis sipped the contents of his mug, apparently deep in concentration “The second murder, actually two murders, occurred two weeks ago, also at Number Three, but in a completely different part of the cemetery. Those are the ones I just heard about that I believe link my two cases. Teenaged boy and girl, post coital according to forensic reports, again staked to the ground and left to bleed out. Blood everywhere, so not a vampire attack.” “Not a traditional one anyway,” Travis interrupted. “Just because he left the blood doesn’t mean it wasn’t a vamp.” “Point taken, and I can’t really have it both ways if I think the cases are related. And I do.” Danny nodded. He took a bite of his sandwich, thought for moment, then continued. “The third took place last night or rather, early yesterday morning. This murder occurred at St Louis Cemetery Number One—the one near the Quarter. Vincent Jourdain, thirty-three year old man when he was turned three years ago. Again, staked and left for the sun to burn. Preliminary evidence shows he may have been…tortured some first. Which indicates an older, stronger opponent, likely a vampire or a were.” Danny stopped for a moment, thinking before sharing the rest. “What’s not in the files is that in all three attacks, the fangs were pulled.

The boy and girl obviously had dental implants, but they were pulled out too. And in last night’s attack, a personal message was left. I’m not at liberty to discuss it as of yet, but we need help here. Someone who can think like a cop, but who knows the other side of the equation, too.” Travis sat back and laughed softly. “You mean a paranormal. And I haven’t been a detective,” he stressed the word, “for over two years. NOPD threw me away like yesterday’s coffee grounds. Why the fuck should I care, much less help?” Danny narrowed his eyes and studied the man in front of him. He didn’t know what the problem was, but all he had heard about Travis was good. Up until the attack that killed him, that is. But Danny knew Travis could be a valuable asset to the force as a consultant. Pity he couldn’t get his head out of his ass long enough to look around. “Because you and I both know the backlash here will be huge if people think they aren’t safe from a vampire attack. And trust me, there will be reporters all over this story like flies on shit very soon. Vincent was a known mob enforcer before he was made undead. Probably after, too, and his friends aren’t gonna be happy to know he’s gone. Plus, two of the victims are vamps. Imagine the fear that will be running through your community”—he glared—”when they don’t feel safe either.” Danny reached out to gather all the contents of the files and shoved the papers and photos back into the folders. He stood, grabbed the remains of his dinner, and threw it, unwrapped, into the bag he brought in and strode to the door. “There are more murders to come. I know it and you know it. Now, when you want to stop the pity party and man-thefuck up, call me.” Before he could get the door open, Travis had him shoved up against it, his body pressed tightly against Danny’s. His mouth close to Danny’s ear, Travis spoke so low he almost couldn’t hear him. “Keep your fucking mouth shut and watch what you say, boy. That shit might work with the trash you used to work with, but I could have you spread out under me”—Danny gasped as Travis ground his hard crotch against his ass— ”and drain you dry before you know what happened. I’m not a detective anymore, cop. Nor a man. Don’t forget it again.”

Travis backed away and Danny pulled the door open and raced down the stairs, his breath coming in great gulps of air, his pulse hammering. The fact his cock was rock hard didn’t escape him. He needed to regain his focus. As he fumbled the key into the lock on the SUV’s door, his head began to clear. How had Danny let himself get so distracted? He’d been chasing paranormal crime for the past year and a half, studied supernaturals from the time their existence had been confirmed. He’d never understood the unholy fascination some people had for the undead, for the weres. Up until today, he’d been completely immune. But something about this man—vampire—really got to him. And that had to stop.

Chapter Three The drive from Boudreaux’s to the stately 8th District Headquarters building on Royal Street in the Quarter had been too quick. Still needing a moment to regain his composure before the meeting with Sam, Danny headed straight for the men’s room outside the detectives’ squad room. He washed his face and tried not to think too hard about the permanent gray stain on the white porcelain sink. Hopefully the water wouldn’t leave his face the same shade. He was drying his face on a scratchy paper towel when he heard the door to the men’s room push open. He glanced into the mirror. “Meet me in Interview Three when you're done in here.” Sam said, poking his head in the door, briefly meeting his gaze in the reflection. Danny nodded. When the door closed behind him, he studied his own face in the mirror. He looked tired. This all night crap was fine if you didn't have to work all day, too. He must be tired if he’d walked by Sam’s desk without noticing. He always noticed Sam…which was why he’d needed a moment to cool off after his encounter with Travis. Garrett always looked good…clean-shaven face and head, warm brown skin that always seemed to glow with good health. Or good sex. He wondered if Sam was seeing someone. He hadn't heard anything, but the gay men on the PD were few and far between. Well, the ones who were out, anyway. It had been a while since the two of them had hooked up; maybe it was time to renew their…relationship. Surely the two of them could overcome a little thing like vampire justice. Maybe now that new laws were in place to protect the supers and the cops who worked the squad, Sam would see his way to being a little more understanding. Either way, he thought, pushing open the door and starting down the short hallway, it was time to sort out these cases so he could go home and get some sleep.

Interview Three was an interesting choice for their meeting. Danny turned the knob and slowly pushed open the door on the smallest of the witness rooms. They didn't use the space to interrogate suspects because there wasn't the usual two-way mirror for back room observations. This was where detectives brought traumatized sex crime victims, the lost-andfounds, and the runaways. And it meant Sam didn't want to be overheard. “Danny.” “Sam,” he mocked the other man’s tone. Danny was determined not to flinch under the steady, dark gaze. He knew he looked like shit. He’d caught Jourdain’s murder just after sunrise yesterday, and it would be sunrise again in twenty minutes. No amount of washing his face was going to clean off the dark smudges under his eyes. He slipped off his jacket, pushed up the sleeves on his sweater, and wore his exhaustion like a shield. “You here for a piece of my ass, too?” Sam asked. Looking closely at the other man’s face for the first time, Danny noticed fine lines that didn’t look like laugh lines bracketing Sam’s mouth and eyes. Hoping to bring a smile, he said, “Depends. Is that an offer for old time's sake?” Sam laughed, the sound warm and inviting, as it bounced off the bare walls. “Now that's the best offer I've had all morning. Okay, it's the only offer I've had, but still, not bad… considering.” “They giving you a bad time?” Danny said, empathy for Sam’s position filling his voice. “Yeah. Nothing like having your ass reamed by the Deputy Chief of the Criminal Investigative Division at oh-dark-fucking-thirty. I suppose you think I fucked up, too.” A statement, not a question. “Depends.” Danny shrugged and asked the question most on his mind. “Why didn't you enter the crime into the para-crimes database?” Nodding at the expected question, Sam pulled back the old fashioned slat-back wooden chair and sat heavily. His copy of the official file was spread open on a battleship-sized table that looked like it came straight from a World War II surplus sale. Obviously this room wasn’t used very often or the furniture would have matched the more compact, prisoner-

proof stainless steel units that were bolted to the floor in the other interrogation rooms. “Here's how I saw things at the time,” Sam said. Danny leaned over, momentarily distracted by the smell of the other man's after-shave. Jesus, he needed to focus. Something about being with that damn vamp had his hormones racing like a teenager’s. As soon as Sam turned to the photos, concentrating on the crime was easy. Sam walked him through the investigation, first at the scene and then through the witness statements. Not that there were any witnesses to the actual crime. Just statements from Brock and Clarissa's parents, teachers, classmates. All agreed that the pair had been obsessed with vampires, all agreed they'd had no enemies. The young couple expressed an interest in becoming real vampires as soon as they met the legal age limit of twentyone, but neither bore physical signs of donating. “Not real fangbangers, then?” Danny asked. “Oh, I think they would have been real enough in another few years. But right now, the law still favors us normals.” “Sam,” Danny said. He made the warning clear with his tone. It was the same old argument and obviously Sam's position hadn't changed—the world was divided between normals and not-normals, as he saw all the supers. In Sam’s opinion, only one of those groups deserved the full protection of the law. “Okay, look, the fact they were human did play into my decision. Partly because I hadn’t heard the details of the vampire murder at Bayou Cemetery, but also because the crime didn’t feel hinky. It hasn’t even been a year since we caught those kids with the fake fangs scaring the tourists on the Famous Graves tour. We get fakers and wannabes all the time. Besides, this wasn’t even at the same cemetery as your murder—not yesterday’s murder either. Christ, Danny…there was blood everywhere. No sign that any blood sucker had been there and fed. The kids didn’t have a mark on them.” “Then how do you explain the garden stake through the heart?” he asked quietly.

Sam blew out a breath that told Danny more than anything how frustrated he was by the case. “Yes, I realize that one of the supers could push a stake through a human with a bare hand. But the killing blow could also have come from a modified spear gun or crossbow. Something like that. We spent a lot of time tracking down every custom weapons manufacturer in the city. Got nowhere. Honestly, I was just about ready to enter it into the database when your murder hit the hot sheet yesterday morning. And when I saw you had two vics, both with teeth pulled, I thought—” Sam swiped a hand over his head. “Okay. Doesn’t matter, how we got here, ‘cause here is where we are. Sorry, Sam, but PCIU is taking the case, I’m going to be the lead. Your commander—my commander—all that shit is already a done deal.” Sam’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t say anything. “Yep, sucks to be you. Now, let’s just push the inter-bureau bullshit aside. You and I are friends.” He let the warmth fill his voice. “We used to be more than that, Sam.” Sam’s gaze flashed to his, and for just a moment he caught the heat that always seemed to be just beneath the surface whenever the two of them were together. Blinking rapidly, Sam moistened his lips, as if trying to gauge where Danny was going. Danny wasn’t sure himself. He was chockfull of horny after spending all night in the company of the vampire. And damn, but something about being so close together in this small room, surrounded by the early morning just-showered scent of Sam was just stoking his fire higher. Clearing his throat, Sam broke eye contact first. He tapped the case folder with one of his long, dark fingers, bringing the focus back where it belonged. “These kids are mine, Burkette.” “Not any more. Not unless you're willing to work with the PICU under my lead.” “Fuck.” “Maybe later. Once we close the case. Now what's it going to be? Because I need someone I can trust to toss Jourdain's crib. And frankly, having you on days frees me up me to work the nights and gives us full coverage.” Exhausted, Danny pulled out a chair and sat opposite Sam.

Sam's eyes narrowed. “You getting cozy with the monsters, Danny? Need your nights free?” “No, dip shit. I'm investigating vampires. It's just a little easier to talk to them when they're actually conscious.” There was a long pause before Sam answered. “Whatever. And in case you really didn't already know…the commander said I showed a blatant disregard for the governor's staff when I failed to share the details of this case with the Odd Squad. Not her exact words, but you get the general idea. At the moment, my career is in the shitter, and if I want to work anything other than a desk, I get to work with you for the foreseeable future. Black gay dude gets an object lesson in tolerance.” He rolled his eyes. “I'm sorry, Sam. I really didn't know.” Danny paused, thinking the situation over. “Okay, you've got Jourdain. Get us as much background as you can get. Known associates, his hangouts, any other info you can dig up. I've already pulled his sheet. He was not a nice guy. Rumor and research have him as the main enforcer for the Fontaine crime syndicate family. Slippery as an eel. Four arrests over the past ten years, I'm still waiting on juvie, but I don't think this goes back that far.” “No, I don't think so either. Four arrests. Did he do any time?” “Funny you should ask. I can't find anything that shows Vinnie spent more than a few hours in lock-up after each arrest. Then one of Fontaine's fancy lawyers would show up to spring him. The DA only managed to make one case stick long enough to get a trial date. Attempted murder. He used a bat to beat the shit out of Richard Fontaine's accountant when word leaked that the guy was talking to someone in the press. The case was dismissed when the victim failed to show up for the trial. He’s failed to show up anywhere else since then, too.” “Okay. I've got this. Anything else?” “Just a couple of quick questions,” Danny said. He stifled a yawn. “You didn't have anything in the file on the dental implants. Anything there?”

“Nope. Totally cosmetic. The office does hundreds per year. None of the other customers has been a vic of violent crime. I'll get that entered. What else?” “Tell me about the day Boudreaux was attacked,” Danny asked quickly, hoping to blindside Sam into an unguarded reaction. It worked. Sam's head snapped back as if struck. “Boudreaux? Travis Boudreaux? What the fuck does he have to do with anything?” “Just answer the question, Sam.” “There isn't a whole damn lot to tell. We were working an undercover operation on a hate crime…gay bashing attacks that were escalating. We’d been setting everything up at a club in the Quarter. The night he—” Sam blew out a breath. “We needed a place to lie low, so we waited a couple of hours at his place until all the suspects were in range. The plan worked fine. I was the bait and they followed me like we knew they would. Travis was supposed to follow behind them, then we’d spring the trap. Only Trav was ambushed right outside his place and you know the rest. Travis died. Three days later we found out he was a vampire.” Sam had been speaking very quickly and wouldn't meet Danny's gaze. There was nothing easy about that memory, considering Sam had been injured and his partner killed on the case. Still, there was something off. He poked. “Any reason to believe Boudreaux was dirty?” Now Sam did look up. He dark gaze burned with some indefinable emotion. “None. We weren’t partners long, but Travis was the straightest cop I ever worked with. The man's a hermit, now. I understand he’s setting up some sort of computer database on the supers, or at least that’s what Maxie says. You can't possibly believe he has anything to do with killing anyone.” “Boudreaux's case is still open, we don't know which vamp turned him or where his loyalties lie. I've pulled the case file. I'll read through it after I've had some sleep. Is there anything I should know first? Maybe something the cops withheld from the press?” “Shit, Danny. He was my partner. It was the worst week of my life. The prick that turned him stole fucking everything important to Trav. He

took his career, his future, his goddamn life. And then, just like he was pissing on the body, the bastard even stole Trav's badge. I don't know what you're thinking here, Burkette, or why, but I already told you, Boudreaux was as straight as they come.” “Interesting choice of words. That's the second time you've said that. Were you fucking him, Sam?” Sam stood so fast his chair would’ve toppled over had there been enough space between the table and the wall. As it was, the tight fit of the room had Garrett looming over the still seated Danny. “I'm going to say this once. Of all people…you know better than anyone that my personal life does not affect my job. I did not fuck Travis. He did not fuck me. You want to know about his orientation or who he fucks, then ask him. I answered your damn questions, now you either tell me what the fuck this is about or count me out.” Sam's anger was a living thing, a coiled snake, ready to strike if he poked at it one more time. Interesting. There was a lot of heat on behalf of a former partner he professed to barely know. Danny knew one thing. There hadn't been anything ambiguous about the hard dick Trav had pressed against his ass, earlier. Either Travis had become much more flexible in his sexual preferences since becoming a vampire or Sam was lying. Because if Sam had believed for one hot minute that Travis was gay…he'd have been all over his ass. It was something he'd have to think about later…maybe see how Travis reacted to the same question. Meanwhile, he had a case to solve. He'd drop this one last bombshell and then head home to catch some rack time and a shower. Slowly, Danny pushed to his feet and loomed into Sam's space, using all his size to force the other man back. “Detective Travis Boudreaux's shield was found at the scene of Vincent Jourdain's murder. Are you willing to stake your life that there's no connection?”

**** Pulling out his pocketknife, Sam sliced through the bright yellow crime scene tape on the door of Vincent Jourdain’s fifteenth-floor condo. Stepping inside, he closed the door behind him and just stood, absorbing

the atmosphere. The first thing he noticed was the view. Floor-to-ceiling windows dominated the room and looked out over the Mississippi River and lower Algiers on the West bank. The view alone made Sam want to know more about Jourdain’s money. A vamp with a view…funny. With a quick glance at his notes he confirmed that Vincent lived here before he was turned. He made a note to ask Danny about any special coverings for windows other than the blackout curtains that protected vampires from the midday sun. As he finished his cursory survey, the black and chrome furnishings, original art, and extensive collection of home electronics did nothing to dispel his impression that the vampire must have had a lot of disposable income. Which meant that as a victim, they needed to dig deep to see if something in Vinnie-the-vamp’s current or former life was related to his murder. Just because he was number four in a string, didn’t mean he was a randomly selected victim. He’d receive an extra special look because of his mob connections. He tossed the case file on the leather sofa, pulled a pair of gloves from his pocket, slid them on and continued to walk through the four-room condo. He had yet to read the reports from the techs, preferring to form his own impressions first. Entering the bedroom, the signs of the search were obvious. The tables and dressers were coated with fingerprint dust and the bedding had been removed from the king-sized bed. The material would be examined for blood or semen, anything that might help focus in on Vinnie’s activities. At the rear of the room, the walk-in closet was filled with clothes, organized by color, predominately black. There were some noticeable gaps, as if the crime lab folks might have removed a few hangers of clothing for testing. He would personally check every pocket, every shoe, each collar, crevice, and zipper in order to make sure nothing was overlooked. The bathroom was a study in product. Gel, mousse, conditioner, hair wax, lotion--you name it, Vincent used it…or at least tried it. The medicine cabinet contained several bottles of outdated prescriptions.

Looked like Vinnie might have been turned to a vampire just in time…there was a large supply of blood pressure and cholesterol controlling drugs. Why worry about a heart attack when you can become one of the undead and live forever? He made a mental note to find out the details of Vincent’s conversion to undead. Had he gone intentionally or was he a victim of an unruly enforcer of another sort? Was he still working for the Fontaine crime family? Returning to the front of the condo, he noticed the kitchen looked unused. A brief check of the cabinets revealed they were empty of anything that might be used to cook or serve food. He would check to see when the vamp moved in. Given the meds in the bathroom, it was likely he’d occupied the place as a human, but the kitchen looked as if it had never been used. Opening the refrigerator, Sam noted there were no plasma bags, no wine or beer. Just a lot of empty space. Since there wasn’t a Normalizer on the counter, Sam assumed Vinnie must have gotten all his blood from human donors. Or taken it from the unwilling. Another item to check. Once he’d made the first pass through each of the rooms, Sam sat on the couch and opened the folder containing the preliminary report from the crime scene investigators. Much as he’d suspected. The only prints they’d identified had been from Jourdain, and the prints on file for the employees of the cleaning service used by the condo association. You would think a mob enforcer with a maid pretty much nixed the idea of finding anything useful in the apartment. For his own part, Sam couldn’t decide if the idea of having someone else clean his apartment was appealing or too damned intrusive for his comfort. It didn’t matter, since paying for something he was perfectly able to do himself was never going to happen. Shaking off the random thoughts, he continued through the file. Checking the inventory detail sheet, Sam was surprised to see garden stakes. In a fifteenth-story condo? Sometimes there was no accounting for stupid. The analysis sheet indicated they were garden-variety garden stakes. Sam shook his head at the unintentional drollness of the techs. Available at any home improvement store or garden center, the stakes

matched the kind used to immobilize the other vampire and kill the two teens. And the irony of them being used on their purchaser wasn’t lost on him. Answering his earlier question, the techs confirmed the DoD, or Density of Darkness, levels were sufficient in the bedroom once the automated interior shutters were activated. Vincent had a redundant set of blackout draperies that covered the windows. Guess the vamp didn’t want to take any chances. He had pushed the buttons himself a few times, activating then releasing the equipment that Vinnie the vamp would have trusted with his…life? Undeath? Sleep? What the fuck did they call it? What did Travis do to make sure he was protected while he…slept? Goddamn Danny Burkette for bringing Travis into the conversation anyway. It was too damn much on top of everything else. Dead was dead, and no amount of talking and walking after dark was going to change the fact that vampires were humans who had ceased to live…who could only pretend to live by taking life or life-sustaining blood from somebody else. Take it from you while you were standing there in shock, wondering why your partner was suddenly alive again… Pushing away the threat of memory, Sam flipped to the next section of the report. Items of clothing confiscated from the victim’s closet included two pair of black slacks, black long-sleeved dress shirts, one black tie, and one red tie, all showing significant traces of blood under the luminol and lights. Of course, since the vic was a vampire, that might not mean much. Type and DNA checks were in progress and the results would be forwarded to the detective in charge. Quickly flipping through the rest of the report, Sam noted there were still more questions than answers at this early stage of the investigation. He closed the folder and returned to the bedroom. Sam started his search with the closet first. He moved from left to right, running his fingers over seams, checking pockets, feeling around the collars. When he’d assured himself there was nothing to find, he moved to the dresser. He repeated the process starting with the top drawers first. He narrowed his eyes when he discovered the socks rolled into their neat balls, apparently undisturbed by the techs. Lazy fucks. Probably

thought it was unnecessary since they were examining Jourdain’s place from the victim’s perspective. That didn’t fly for Sam. Everything about this vic, dead or undead, or hell…dead again…set his teeth on edge. The prick was dirty; he could feel it. Before he started, he used his digital camera to document the uninspected state of the balled socks. He wouldn’t bust anybody’s balls unless he found something, but his own ass was so far out in the wind on this case, he needed to protect himself. Once he started, he was unsurprised that most of the socks were black. To go along with the tough guy image Vincent built with all those black clothes, he supposed. Sam unrolled each pair, rubbing the heels and the toes, making sure there was nothing hidden. For whatever reason, people thought you wouldn’t find the secrets in their underwear drawers. Yeah. Right. Tucked into the back corner were a few pairs of white athletic socks. Since the man didn’t appear to own any casual or workout clothes, Sam could only assume these were holdovers from his human days. He hit pay dirt on the second-to-last pair. As soon as he lifted the ball, he could tell the difference in the weight. There was something inside. He carefully unrolled the tightly rolled ball and then turned each sock inside out. Holy shit.

Chapter Four The life slowly came back into Travis, and he opened his eyes to the darkness of his bedroom. He shuddered as awareness rolled through his body, the tingling of feeling restored bit-by-bit in his limbs. This was the worst part of being a vampire. The memories that crashed into him every day when the dead receded and what passed as life filled him again. For two long years, he’d tolerated this daily reminder that his life was over. Yes, he’d tried to keep things as normal as he could, even tried returning to work for about a week. The fear and pity he saw and smelled on everyone was more than he could take. Plus, the open enmity he saw on Sam’s face…that hurt more than even his sudden disappearance. The asshole wouldn’t even say hello to him, just kept his distance and froze him out. He knew he'd tried to attack Sam when he woke that first day, but he didn’t remember. And Sam sure as hell wouldn’t give him the opportunity to forget or forgive, would he? Of course the decision to go or stay was taken out of his hands almost immediately, the medical retirement forced on him before the world could figure out if he was a citizen with rights or a freak of nature. The laws might have caught up in some regards—there were always those willing to take up a cause—but few families would want you dating their son. Now, he had all the time in the world and not a damned thing to do with it. He’d been reading every book on vampirism he could find to see what matched up and what was pure and total bullshit. Sparkly in the sun? No. Blood needed? Yes. Every day or he would start to fade. Garlic? Crosses? Invitations to cross thresholds to enter a home? Nope. The bookcase was starting to sag under the weight of all the books he was accumulating. Not to mention the boxes and boxes of books downstairs. He was going to have to decide what to do about them soon.

The feeling finally back in his limbs, he threw back the sheet and stretched, ignoring, for now, the tension in his gut and tightness in his throat that signaled hunger. He’d shower, then use the Normalizer to try one of the different blood types he'd bought at Fangs the previous night. He planned to spend a little time organizing his thoughts on the case Danny Burkette brought over. There were things that puzzled him, and he thought better when he was clean and had coffee. And since coffee wasn’t an option… Trav grabbed the stereo remote, hit the power button, and the slow, sultry sounds of Billie Holiday greeted the night. Satisfied with the mournful blues filling the space, he walked naked into the bathroom, turning on the shower as warm as he could take it. The heat always helped dispel the last of the weirdness from his body, and even helped make the hunger that gnawed at his consciousness more manageable. After brushing his teeth, he stepped into the steamy stall and angled the twin showerheads to hit his shoulders and chest. As he soaped himself, he closed his eyes at the thought of a man with mussed up black hair and clear, denim blue eyes… Images of a muscular torso pinned against the front door started the blood flowing to his groin. He filled his hand with liquid soap and slowly stroked himself, lathering his balls and tugging. Throwing his head back, he braced himself against the tile and let his mind take him there. To ripping the clothes off his lover, sinking his cock in the man’s tight ass and taking what he needed. Trav worked his hand fast and hard on his shaft, reaching under his balls to circle his tight hole with one finger. Imagining the taste of the man and the tightening of ass muscles around his cock all conspired to bring him right to the edge. He teetered there, stroking, finally inserting a finger inside himself. His orgasm stayed just out of reach, tantalizing him. Out of nowhere, the picture of sinking his fangs into the man, the hot spray of blood in his mouth… The suddenness of that forbidden vision nearly took his knees out from under him, throwing him over the abyss into orgasm. As it slammed through him, his excitement was matched only by his horror.

Catching his breath, Travis pushed the thought of the tall, muscular detective into a little box of “what ifs” in his head. It was starting to fill up a bit in that box. His career. Sam. His family. His life. No regrets, he thought, shaking it off. He toweled himself dry and slid into a pair of tattered jeans. Breakfast awaited. Just as he reached the fridge to take out a bag of blood to warm, his doorbell rang. Sighing, he leaned his head against the cool metal for a moment. There were only a couple of possibilities as to who would be coming by to see him, and none of them were particularly good. He just wanted to get through another night, just one more “x” on the calendar. The bell rang again, and he pulled himself out of his reverie. Reluctantly, he pushed himself away from the cold steel door and made his way down to ground level. Gazing through the peephole, Travis saw Danny Burkette standing loose-limbed, almost casually waiting. As if he knew Travis would look, so he wanted to appear as relaxed as possible. Fuck. He slid open the door and stood in the entrance. “Detective. Always a pleasure. What can I do for you tonight?” “Travis, good evening. I thought we’d talk about the case. We searched the home of the last victim and came across some interesting finds. May I come in?” Impatience, anger, and curiosity warred in Travis’s mind, but finally the desire to know what happened won out. He stood aside and motioned Danny in, not missing the slow simmering glance the detective raked up his body as he brushed against Trav. Deciding to tease Danny a little, he started up the stairs ahead of him, giving the man a good look at his jeancovered ass and bare back. He heard the slight intake of breath, the accelerated heartbeat. Smiling to himself, he led his guest into the third floor living room and stopped. “Have a seat, Detective Burkette. I’d offer you a beer or glass of wine, but the red I have, I don’t think you’d appreciate.” Travis smiled, showing a little fang. He really couldn’t say why he was baiting the man, but he smelled arousal and fear, and it was a heady combination. “That’s quite alright. I don’t drink while I’m on duty,” Danny snarked back. He pulled several items out of his messenger bag and laid

them on the table. “The case files have been updated with the latest autopsy information on Vincent Jourdain, and the preliminary results of the search of his condo.” He spread the files out on the coffee table, careful to keep them in order. Travis reached out for the last one containing the information on Vincent. He read the autopsy results, which confirmed cause of death as solar combustion, a rather quaint way of saying the sun burned his ass to ash. Also noted was the absence of his canines, but not much else. Flipping through the next section of the murder book, he stopped and looked up at Danny. “You’re kidding me, right? The crime scene guys fucked it up that badly?” He shook his head, trying to gain his balance again when he saw Sam’s name on the report. He kept reading, then sat back and fixed his gaze at a point about a foot over Danny’s shoulder. “So, they missed it on the original search, but a subsequent search revealed a ball of socks, including one pair with hidden trophies. There were ten sets of teeth…fangs and canines, hidden in this asshole’s sock drawer. Three match your vics. And you don’t have a fucking clue how the victim’s own fangs got into that drawer.” He made it a statement rather than a question. “That means there are six other vics out there somewhere. One human, one vamp, and what appears to be four werewolves. No prints other than his own in the condo. Maybe the book can really be closed on three of the four murders.” He looked over at Danny and asked, “So what do you want with me?” Danny leaned back on the sofa and appeared to be collecting his thoughts. “There are some things we found that aren’t in the official report. You know how it goes. Need to know, some of it sensitive, some not strictly relevant to the case. We did find a small notebook that Vinnie kept in a safe deposit box. Probably for his own protection. He was a midlevel enforcer and made man for the mob in Shreveport. For unknown reasons, he asked to be turned.” Danny shifted on the couch, looking uncomfortable, leaving Trav to wonder what was coming next. “We have the name of his Master, who appears at the minimum to have been aware of our boy’s…recreational activities. Some of the teeth may belong to hits he did for pay. The condo he lived in wasn’t cheap, so

he had income from somewhere—forensic accounting will take care of that question. We are shifting the focus of the investigation to Jourdain…we have a few more questions before we close the other murders.” Pulling a small notebook out of his jacket pocket, Danny flipped pages until he found what he was searching for. “Henri du Champ is the name of his Master. Mean anything to you?” Travis shook his head. He knew book stuff about vampires, but he hadn’t ventured into the undead community except to shop for blood. Tapping his fingers against the folder, Danny continued. “He spent a lot of years in Baton Rouge, and apparently now has a base of operations out in Houma. I can’t get a warrant, there isn’t enough evidence of a connection other than the supposition Vinnie may have done a few jobs for his sire. Not enough to take to a judge anyway. I just want to go ask a few questions, get a look at the layout of the property. I’d like for you to come alone, if you’re willing.” Travis jerked up. “Why the hell would I want to come along? This case has nothing to do with me? I’m not a detective anymore, and I sure as hell am not interested in helping out just for shits and giggles.” Ignoring the outburst, Danny started stacking the files back into tidy piles and putting them away. “Because I need your help,” he said without looking at Trav. “I’ve studied vampires and their behavior and powers, but I’m pretty useless in the subtleties of protocol with Masters. Plus, there may be something you pick up on with your senses I can’t. I know you smelled something last night at the cemetery. We haven’t had a chance for you to tell me what else you may have discovered, and I thought the drive out may give us time to go over it all.” He glanced up and caught Trav’s gaze. “I really do need your help. I’m afraid this goes a lot further than just these murders. The discovery of the werewolf teeth make this complex. What do you say, Mr. Boudreaux?” Trav thought a long moment. For so long, nothing interested him outside his search for information on his new “life.” He was surprised to realize he wanted answers. Something about this whole situation called to him, but he had no idea why. Making a decision, he stood and glanced at

the clock. “I don’t know very much about the protocol, myself. You need to know that. But if you want me along, then give me a minute to finish dressing. We’ll be pushing it close to get to Houma, check this information out and then get back before sunrise. We need to get on the road now.” He strode from the room, leaving Danny to once again get a good look at his ass.

**** The drive out to Houma was quiet, for the most part. Having Travis in the SUV was enough of a distraction without having to conduct a conversation with the man. Vamp. Whatever. He couldn’t let himself forget that at heart, Trav was a predator now, no matter how sexy he might be. Fortunately, there was no late night traffic, so it only took a little over an hour to get the small country home the Master kept on the bayou. The GPS tracking led them down an oak covered lane, past a small country cemetery. That was one of the things that initially freaked Danny out when he made the move to New Orleans—with the city being below sea level, they buried their dead in above-ground crypts. It made for beautiful but creepy scenery. The vaults and mausoleums that dotted the countryside, with their angels and small statuary, fascinated him. Now, of course, he realized they’d housed many of the secret undead for years…Danny shuddered. At least with the new laws vampires and other preternaturals were able to live more normal lives. Like Travis and Vinnie, the younger vamps seemed willing to move into their own places and let modern technology keep them safe. It was hard to imagine crawling into a crypt or underground chamber to die each day. A shiver wracked through his body again and he risked a glance at the vamp. There was no expression at all on Travis’s face as he stared out the windshield at the macabre landscape. The box on his dash signaled they were at their destination, and both men turned their attention to look at the residence of a Master vampire. Huh. The house was such a polar opposite of what he'd expected. A single level brick ranch, set off the road. The front porch light was on,

almost like they were expected. The long driveway belied the fact that this was the only house he’d seen for the last mile or so. And the only light in the area. How convenient. “Ready?” He turned to Travis, noting a strange look on the man’s face. “What’s wrong?” When he didn’t get an answer, he reached over and touched the man’s arm, shaking him out of his thoughts. Trav turned to face him, puzzlement warring with anger on his handsome face. He waited a moment, giving Trav time to settle whatever was running through his mind. “Okay now? Wanna tell me what the hell’s going on?” “I thought…I’ve smelled this before.” Trav’s face was impassive again, not inviting further comment. Danny sniffed the air, but couldn’t smell anything but the faint aroma of deep blue water he associated with the bayou. Danny opened the door, stepping out into the cool night air. “Okay. We can think about that later. Right now, we need to talk to this vamp and see what we can learn. Let me do the talking, sunshine.” He flashed a grin when he caught the huff of air that escaped Travis’s mouth. But he opened his door and followed Danny up the driveway to the front door. Pulling the screen back, Danny rapped hard on the door. A moment later, a bare-chested young man, no more than eighteen, answered. He was quite a beauty, the smoothness of his frame marked with bruised bite marks from his neck down into the low-slung jeans hanging from his lean hips. “May I help you gentlemen?” he asked in a surprisingly deep voice laced with amusement. “We’re looking for Henri du Champ,” Danny said, mentally rolling his eyes at the eye-candy. “Could you let him know Detectives Burkette and Boudreaux from New Orleans would like a moment of his time.” Turning his back to indicate he was done with the boy, he saw Travis stiffen and move to stand between Danny and the boy. A low growl rolled through the air. “Down, pup,” Travis hissed. “Go get your Master and don’t forget yourself.” Danny glanced around to see Trav bare his fangs at the young man. After a tense moment where the two glared at each other, the boytoy turned with a huff and went back inside, slamming the door.

“What the fuck was that about?” Danny whispered under his breath. “Fucking werewolf. He’s a Renfield and wannabe bodyguard.” The words were clipped, precise. Before he could say anything else, the door jerked open and the young man stood back, silently inviting them in. Neither acknowledged the newly dripping claw marks marring the sculptured chest. Guess it was better motivation than a newspaper across his nose. They followed him down a hallway into a large den where a slender young man sat on a leather sectional. When they came into the room, he rose gracefully, turning to face them. Danny was surprised to see just how young—early twenties at most. Slight, blond, and a beautiful twink. “Henri du Champ, at your service,” the man said with a smile. His cold eyes, like a snake’s, belied any warmth his mouth tried to offer. Danny’s hackles rose, and he stiffened his spine in response to the urge to back away and run like hell. Fuck…not young at all. “Detective Danny Burkette, NOPD, and this is my partner Travis Boudreaux,” he said gesturing to Trav. “Enchanté,” the man said, almost floating forward to shake hands. Danny obliged, but Travis stood rock still, not moving a muscle. After a moment, Henri dropped his hand and sighed. “Good manners are so hard to come by these days,” he drawled, his bayou accent laced with something else. Danny glanced to see Travis, his face statue-like in the dim light from the single floor lamp. He felt an absurd little surge of pride in the younger vampire’s calm expression in the presence of a vamp that was reportedly three hundred years old. He snapped his attention back to the Master—he couldn’t let himself forget for a moment that as fragile as the man looked, he could kill Danny before he ever saw the creature move. “Perhaps. But manners are so…unimportant in my line of work. May we ask you a few questions, Mr. du Champ?” “A few. You interrupted my dinner and I’m afraid I am a beast when that happens.”

As Henri settled himself back in the sofa, Danny moved to face him, motioning Travis to take a seat in another chair. “We’re here to ask about any information you may have regarding Vincent Jourdain.” The growl he’d heard earlier repeated itself louder, this time from the other room. Interesting. No love lost between Wolfie and Vinnie, Danny gathered. The growl snapped off suddenly with a yelp, and Danny couldn’t help but notice the look of displeasure that crossed du Champ’s face before he settled into aristocratic ennui again. “Vincent worked for me on occasion, providing security services. He missed his last appointment with me, so I am afraid I had to terminate him.” Henri flipped his hand, as if it were no great matter. “I haven’t seen him in days. Have you news of him, Detective?” “He’s dead. I guess someone else had the same idea. Terminating him, that is. It appears he may have been involved in some rather nasty business. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind letting us see his employment records?” Danny matched the younger…older man’s tone. “Too tiresome, I’m afraid. Unless of course you have a warrant?” “Ah,” Travis spoke for the first time. “Too bad. Detective Burkett thought we might all be friends here. Apparently not. Thank you for your hospitality, we can see ourselves out.” He rose and Danny followed suit, unsure of what happened. He sensed Travis’s urgency to leave as he walked close behind him, rushing him out the door and to their truck. When they were safely buckled in, he turned to Travis. “This isn’t over. You need to tell me what the fuck was up with that. I know you aren’t telling me everything, and I want to know what the hell you’re holding back.” “Fine, Detective. I’ll tell you, just get us the fuck away from this place,” Travis said between clenched teeth. Danny stared a moment, then started the truck and pulled away into the night.

Chapter Five Another Friday night at Lucan’s. It had been a while. Sam sat with his back to the dance floor, nursing a beer and remembering the last time he’d been in this club. Two years ago, he’d been chasing monsters with Travis and it hadn’t been anything to do with the preternatural. No…the bastards they’d been after had been equal opportunity bigots in search of gay black men who, as they saw it, led Caucasian men to sin against their nature. Their crime spree had spanned ten years and migrated from Baton Rouge to New Orleans. He and Boudreaux had been assigned when the bashing had settled in the French Quarter and escalated to murder. Black and gay hadn’t been much of a stretch for Sam, but it had come as a complete shock to discover Travis was gay, too. Closing his eyes, Sam let the memories wash over him. The evening had been tense, they’d hovered between flirting and working. The unexpected stress relief at Travis’s apartment had been full of promise of things to come once the case was cleared. Despite knowing the bad guys had every intention of making him their next victim, Sam had confidently strolled into the night, luring the suspects into a trap. Then everything had gone to hell when Travis hadn’t arrived to back him up, and Sam ended up facing the three bashers on his own. It might have been something to fight over later. If Travis hadn’t been dead. Blinking rapidly, Sam swallowed down the last of his beer and put his bottle on the bar, then wiped his damp fingers on his jeans. He’d have liked to say it was the bottle that was sweating, but he didn’t like to lie to himself. Tossing a couple of bills on the counter to cover his tab, Sam stood. It had been a good thing to come here tonight, to force himself to think over the case he’d worked with Boudreaux. He’d fucked up when he’d let himself become emotionally involved with a partner, and again

when he’d let those emotions affect his work. He’d let himself believe maybe he could have more than just one night with someone, that it could be worth opening himself up. Now here he was, two years later and the feelings were still getting in the way. Sure, he could justify keeping the case of the two teens, but he still should have entered the crime in the para-database. Vincent Jourdain had been a stone cold killer, and the world was better off without him. Dead or undead. But Sam knew he’d find it hard to live with himself if anyone else died because of his hesitation to share information across the departmental boundaries. He knew he was better than that, letting his personal feelings get in the way. It didn’t really matter if he thought the night Travis died was the last sane night the world had ever known. The last night he let himself care about someone other than himself and the victims he swore justice for. This was the world they had, and Sam was here to serve and protect. So, no more time wallowing in regrets and self-pity. It was time to re-walk the path they’d taken that night and then put the memories…and the resentment behind him for good. Time to try to forgive Travis for something he had no control over. He hadn’t chosen to be turned any more than Sam had chosen to have his arm shattered and his world turned upside down. He flipped his collar up against the cold evening air and walked slowly through the streets of the Quarter. Laughter poured out of open doorways, spilling over but not touching him, not warming any part of him tonight. Winter in New Orleans brought its own special flavor. More convention-types filled the clubs than tourists until it was Mardi Gras. They still had two weeks before the first parade, so the streets were relatively quiet. Even the hookers stayed in on a night like this. The night he and Boudreaux had been left hanging had been busy in the Quarter. Early enough that Bourbon Street had been like a carnival. Not quite steamy, but pretty damn close. Despite last minute orders, they were too far into their undercover operation to just abandon the case, but they’d worked without backup. There hadn’t been a cop to be spared. No

one in the city had eyes for anything other than the grisly series of bloodletting deaths that the press had dubbed “The Vampire Murders.” Twenty-four hours later, the title proved to be true in a most dramatic fashion when their suspect burst into flames as he was led from the jail to the courthouse. After that, all hell had broken loose as the world struggled to understand that monsters were real. Now when he walked through the streets, he couldn’t help but look at people and wonder…human, vamp, or werewolf. And tonight, he kept asking…did it matter? Sam came to a stop in front of Boudreaux’s three-story Chartres Street townhouse. The building was a shade of pink that only made sense if you lived in the French Quarter…or maybe Miami. The black metal balconies were bare of decorations or plants, and the black shutters and rolling garage-style front door gave the whole place the feeling of a Barbie Dreamhouse gone boring. The first floor had been converted to a storefront sometime over the hundred-plus years since the house was built, but the large plate glass window was empty and dark. A light glowed softly from a third floor window, but there was no trace of movement or shadows. Not that he would have stopped to say hello had it looked like Travis had been home. That door was firmly closed. Sam walked around the block to look at the garage. When he’d known Travis, the man had lived above the garage in a funky little apartment while he’d been renovating the larger unit up front. Sam he wondered if anyone was living there now. Travis had certainly gotten plenty of free time to finish the renovations once he’d been let loose from the force. Thank god for old money and unlimited retirement pay, huh? After a quick look for anyone else in the alley, Sam reached over the top of the gate and felt for the latch. He gave a little snort to find it unlocked. Typical of cops, Travis took his own personal security less seriously than he should have. He walked through the narrow brick-lined passage until it spilled out into a beautiful courtyard. As was the case with many New Orleanians, Travis left the front of his building bare, but the courtyard was spectacular. The cobblestoned yard was shielded from wind, and would jealously guard the warmth of the day so that in winter,

the temperatures would remain above freezing. The large fountain in the middle of the yard coupled with a heavy canopy of trees would keep it cool in summer. There was a hothouse tucked in the back corner, and in the pale moonlight, Sam could see every shelf was packed with pots of plants. So Travis enjoyed gardening. He hadn’t known that. He hadn’t known much about the man. “It is a beautiful place, don’t you agree?” The voice slid out of the darkness, sending his heart racing as he whirled, looking for the source. A shadow stepped from under the circular iron staircase that led to the second floor apartment. Shit. He hadn’t seen anyone. Best to play it off. “Hey. I didn’t know anyone was here. Detective Sam Garrett. And you are…” “Ah, yes, Detective Garrett. So we finally meet. I have wondered about you. Does Monsieur Boudreaux know you are skulking around his yard?” The accent was a strange mixture of Cajun with an undertone of something…European? “Right back at you. I don’t think Travis mentioned having company.” Laughter rang out. “As if I am foolish enough to believe you and he are speaking.” He stepped closer, giving Sam his first look in the pale light. Jesus. A vamp. He’d obviously been young when he died. Maybe in his early twenties, with long blond hair tied back from a surprisingly delicate face. Wide, pale eyes, a nose just a little too narrow over pouty lips. Oh boy. He bet this one was a hit with the fangbangers of both sexes. The vampire held out a hand. “Henri du Champ.” He said his name as if it was something Sam should know. Shit. How out of touch had he allowed himself to become? “Nice to meet you, Henri.” He pronounced the name as the vamp had, On-ray, his mouth rolling around the vowels with a caress of tongue. It brought a smile to the vampire’s face, and Sam fought not to stare at the quick flash of fang. “Ahhh…” du Champ said on a sigh and clasped Sam’s hand in both of his. Then the vampire stepped closer. Without letting go, he turned the

simple handshake into a near embrace. Leaning forward with his face tucked into the crook of Sam’s neck, Henri inhaled sharply. Fighting the fear that was trying to crawl up through his belly and out through his throat, Sam worked hard to maintain his composure. He was almost certain the vamp was just fucking with him. After all, the new laws were on his side, and vampires couldn’t just bite someone without permission. But, damn…this vamp was smelling him. What the fuck was that about?

**** Patience. Henri had not lived all these centuries without acquiring patience. When he’d first spotted the man standing in Boudreaux’s courtyard looking around as if he was trying to memorize the place, Henri’s interest had stirred. The stranger’s shaved head and café au lait skin tone had seemed to glow in the faint moonlight. It hadn’t really, but Henri’s night vision was excellent, a well-developed skill of his preternatural senses. He’d heard the slightly elevated heart rate as the man looked up the circular staircase to where Boudreaux had lived before Henri had turned him. Sliding from the darkness, he’d walked silently to stand by the stranger’s side, only to discover after introductions that they were not such strangers after all. Sam Garrett. He closed his eyes and breathed in a scent that was somehow part of the flavor, of the bouquet, of Travis. Henri smiled and was glad he’d made the effort to fly to Boudreaux’s. The night had definitely turned in his favor, finding Sam was a bit of lagniappe, an unexpected treat. Until now, Travis had been the one who got away and tonight’s visit hadn’t been a complete surprise when Boudreaux turned up at his home a few hours earlier. After all, Henri had left a calling card of sorts at the scene of Vincent’s murder. A clue that he was sure Travis would understand. Unfortunately, had been in the company of the buffoon detective…Baguette? No, Burkette. They’d wanted information about Vincent.

Turning Jourdain had been a mistake. He’d once thought to use the former mob enforcer for his own purposes, but he should have known, once a sociopath, always a sociopath. Undead didn’t make a damned bit of difference. It wasn’t the senseless murders Jourdain had committed that bothered Henri, it was the stupidly blatant advertisement that a super must have been involved. Idiot. Henri had taken special pleasure in removing Vinnie’s fangs and placing them into the sock the fool killer had kept in a drawer, like some kind of trophy. Idiot, he thought again. Well, he’d died by his own method, burning in the early morning light while Henri had been tucked away at home, sleeping like the dead. And as for leaving behind anything that indicated a connection between Henri and Jourdain? Well, it was a good thing the man could only die twice. He remembered the night he’d taken Travis. He’d been watching the man for weeks, allowed himself to become obsessed with the human in a way very few others had ever interested him. Then the fates had aligned when Travis stepped out just as Henri had arrived in the area. Never one to overlook a gift, Henri had bitten with the intent to take and to keep. That was all that was necessary for a Master such as himself to sire a new vampire. He’d drunk deeply of the rich blood until Travis had been nearly drained, the transformation almost complete. Unfortunately, before he could claim Travis fully, the area had been crawling with gendarmes and he’d been unable to fly away with his newest child. Henri had been so obsessed with claiming the sexy Detective Boudreaux that he’d sent Vinnie to interfere with the embalming process, but he’d not been able to steal the body under the intense media scrutiny of those few days, as the truth about the brethren was slowly uncovered. Two years was but a brief moment in time, yet he could admit to himself that he’d hoped Travis would seek out his sire before this. He’d wondered that the former detective was not more curious about how and why he’d been selected to become one of the brethren. Boudreaux, however, remained an enigma who seemed to do nothing but stay inside his home and work or study. It had finally occurred to him that Travis might be tempted from his home to investigate a fellow vampire’s

murder. However, he’d believed that the former detective would be too bitter to work with the police. Now, standing so close to Sam, inhaling deeply of the scent of the man, saliva had pooled in his mouth. Henri knew a hunger nearly as strong as the night he claimed Travis, because this man…this Sam…his flavor was familiar. Detective Sam Garrett was the lover who had been with Travis the night Henri turned him. Sam was the taste on Travis’s lips, in his blood. Turning all of his attention back to the man in front of him, Henri wondered at the hand of fate bringing him the final piece of the puzzle that was Travis Boudreaux. If he brought Sam over and made him part of his coven, would that be the final step to bring Travis home to his sire? Boudreaux, Burkette, Garrett…this was an interesting development. Perhaps a new game— “Henri?” Sam’s voice held the slight hint of nerves humans often got when they sensed just how real the danger might be. The slight tremor led straight to Henri’s dick…he loved the fear. “Look at me, Sam,” he whispered. Many of the “facts” humans thought they knew about vampires was just so many lies, created for pure entertainment. But one piece of popular fiction was close to true. He could mesmerize, could bend Sam to his will. “Look at me,” he repeated, the words nothing more than a whisper in the human’s mind. He stepped closer and brushed his hip against Sam’s, even as he drew the other man nearer. They were as close as lovers. Henri could taste the human’s breath, could already imagine his fangs piercing the skin, the warm flow of blood— “Sam? Sam Garrett? I thought that was you.”

Chapter Six Tense and unsure what to think, Trav leaned against the cool glass of the truck widow and tried to process everything that had been thrown at him during this strange night. When he agreed to accompany Danny on what he thought was a fool’s errand, his intention was just to get out of his house for a little while. Evidently fate had other ideas. He didn’t know whether to be pissed or relieved. One thing he did know was, he was going to have to decide exactly how much to reveal to the big detective. The man wasn’t stupid—he’d noticed all the sudden tension around Trav and if he were anything like Sam, he wouldn’t let it go until he extracted every last detail. The engine of the truck sputtered, hesitated, and then died. Danny cursed as he fought the wheel against the sudden loss of power steering, and the truck finally rolled to a complete stop on the hard packed gravel berm. Even the headlights went out, although his heightened predator senses let him see very clearly, even in the slight moonlight peeking through the tree-lined road. He glanced around and saw they had come to a rest within yards of the small cemetery he had noticed on the drive in. Of course they had. Turning to face Trav, Danny sighed. “Well, damn. Any chance you’re a closet mechanic?” Travis snorted. “I’m not a closet anything. I take it you don’t know what the problem could be?” He unclicked his safety belt and stretched his long legs sideways, facing Danny. The other man slapped the steering wheel harder this time before answering. “I just had this damn thing serviced less than two weeks ago. And it’s still new. Haven’t had any problems out of it at all. So yeah…that would be a big fat no. Don’t have a clue what the problem is.” He took out

his cell phone, but after a quick glance he dropped it onto the dash. “No coverage. Can this night suck any harder?” Trav covered his mouth with his hand to hide the smile threatening to break free. He liked Danny. The guy made him laugh almost as much as he made him want to kick his ass. That beautiful tight ass… He shook himself and opened the door, more to get away from the attraction dancing between him and Danny than with any direct plan in mind. He moved in front of the vehicle, feeling the brief presence of the vampire they had just left behind, then even that was gone. They were alone. No humans for miles. His experience as a vampire in the real world was extremely limited, so he wasn’t exactly sure how he knew, but he knew they were completely alone. “Well,” Danny’s voice came from behind him, “I guess we’re gonna have to hoof if. Unless you can fly?” he asked. His tone was joking with an edge of hopeful. Trav shook his head, then realized Danny probably couldn’t see him with his human eyesight. “No. Not yet. Older vamps develop it at some point, but I have no idea when it might happen. Having no Master and all that,” he bit off bitterly. There was a pause, then Burkett spoke, and this time, his voice held just a hint of nerves. “It’s late, and we have to consider that we might not reach a house or find cell coverage before dawn. You need to be somewhere safe out of the sun, and I can come back for you when I get to help.” Even before Danny completed the thought, Travis was shaking his head vehemently. No fucking way was he going to leave Danny unprotected out here with werewolves and a Master loose. That was just not gonna happen. “No. We need to stick together. I’m helpless when the sun comes up, and as dark as it is, how far do you really think you’ll get? There’s something funny about the timing of this, and while we aren’t superheroes, there is safety in numbers.” Danny’s forehead wrinkled and he pressed his lips tightly together for a moment, then nodded. “We passed a cemetery on the way out. It should be around here somewhere,” he said, looking from side-to-side in

the near perfect dark under the canopy of branches and Spanish moss. “If we can find it, I bet there’s a crypt we can wait in ‘til tomorrow. Then you can fill me in on what the hell you think is going on. And then we can plan how to get the hell back to civilization.” “It’s a good thing one of us can see in the dark,” Trav said. He wrapped his fingers around Danny’s elbow and tried to ignore the lure of the oh-so-tempting blood, a rapidly pulsing beat just beneath his fingertips. He blew out a breath and forced himself to focus on the clinical aspect…it was just the brachial artery, not a fucking take-out menu. He dropped the other man’s arm as soon as he started him in the direction of the cemetery. They needed a crypt that would seal tight enough to keep him safe from the rapidly approaching sunrise. Even now, he could detect a slight change in the quality of the darkness. Trav shuddered, briefly wondering what it would feel like to be in the sun again. Then he remembered the photos of Vincent and the other young vamp. Not something he wanted to experience. With a quick look around, Trav led the way to one of the larger mausoleums in the cemetery. Nudging the big man aside, he ran his fingers around the seam of the sealed door. “Think we can get in without disturbing things too much? We’re gonna need to be able to close the door but still leave enough room for some air to come in for you during the day. Sorry about this…you’d probably be more comfortable in the truck, Detective.” He noticed the way the Danny’s jaw tightened a little bit when he called him by his title. Good to know…he wasn’t above a little teasing. Danny shook his head. “I have a tool kit back in the truck, and a couple of blankets stored in the back. You can see better in the dark than I can, why don’t you grab them and we can see about getting inside and settling in?” “Detective, why would you have blankets in the back? You must have been a boy scout,” he drawled. Danny coughed and the heat from his suddenly flushed face brushed over him, once again reminding Travis of the hot blood flowing just beneath the other man’s skin. Jesus.

His words came out in a rush. “I like to have picnics in Armstrong Park sometimes, and grass stains don’t always come out of my dress clothes. Now, leave the keys under the fender-well for me too, okay? If I can get someone out here to tow us, or we get reception, they can get in.” Grabbing the keys, Trav took off at a quick jog to retrieve the items from the truck. He also found a picnic basket, smiling at the unlikely romantic side of the big man. This would have been the kind of man he’d have looked for…before he was dead. His good mood slipped slightly as he was reminded how much things had changed. Then he thought about Sam and how close they’d come to being so right for each other. His heart clenched a little more. Maybe. Maybe he could set them up somehow. If he couldn’t have Sam for himself, maybe this man would be good for him. Walking back a little more slowly, Travis found himself wondering a little at himself. While the thought of Sam still made him a little angry and sad, he realized he really did want the man to be happy. He deserved to have someone who would treat him right, be there for him. Understand the risks of the work they did. Someone who was normal. When he got back to the mausoleum, he saw that Danny already had the door open and was waiting for him just inside. The air was a little musty, but Travis could smell nothing that would be of danger to Danny. “The door wasn’t locked, and when I pushed against it, it slid open with no problem,” Danny chuckled. “It won’t hurt to have the blankets though.” Handing over the tool kit and the blankets, Travis hoisted the picnic basket and grinned, even though he knew Danny wouldn’t be able to see it. “Brought you something, too. Looks like you had some bottled water and crackers left from your last tryst.” Again he felt Danny’s flush as he handed over the basket. Danny didn’t say anything, and Travis started to feel unsettled. Maybe the man was uncomfortable with the teasing. Maybe the romantic date in the park had gone bad. He opened his mouth to apologize, then stopped. He wasn’t sure that wouldn’t make it worse. “Aha,” Danny shouted.

Travis quickly turned his head and covered his eyes to keep out the sudden glare of the light. “Totally forgot there was a flashlight in this kit. Not sure how fresh the batteries are, but we can use it to test for major light leaks around the door.” “Good thinking, Detective,” Travis murmured. It relieved him to know he wouldn’t be burning to death. At least not this morning. He grabbed the blankets back from Danny and spread them over the floor taking up most of the space in the small room. Once, it would have bothered him to disrespect the dead by sitting on their burial place. But being dead himself, he thought the poor soul might forgive him. They did a quick check around the door with the flashlight and found no problems that hanging the blanket over the frame wouldn’t handle. Exposure to daylight became less of a problem as a vampire aged, but at anything less than one hundred, even the smallest amount could be considered kissing the sun. As they settled in, Danny broached the subject sooner than Travis would have thought. “Let’s talk, Trav. I need to know what we are dealing with here, and you’re the only one who can help me put all the pieces together.” Travis stared at the wall, gathering his thoughts. He had a responsibility to give Danny the truth, but he also wanted to keep him safe. If he was correct—and damn it, he knew he was—then investigating this case could put Burkett in danger. He blew out a deep breath. He had to take a chance. “At a minimum, du Champ would have known of Jourdain’s activities. A Master is nothing if not aware of what his fledglings are doing. I’m not sure why he turned Vinnie, but it’s very unusual for a vampire to leave his sire. It’s quite possible that most of Jourdain’s work was on behalf of his Master.” Travis rose, and began to pace around the small space. “There’s probably enough forensic and physical evidence to close the three murders in the cemetery. We don’t have a motive yet, but with a psycho like Jourdain, we may never have one—those I’m sure had nothing to do with his Master, only because there was no gain, no benefit to du Champ.

Jourdain had their teeth in his possession, the stakes you found there match the ones used in the murders. Case closed.” Stopping in front of Danny, he stared down and drew in a breath. “When we went to the crime scene, I smelled something…unusual. Some kind of…sulfur. It was familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. Things got even stranger when I crossed the threshold into the little gated cemetery. It was like all the noise in the world stopped, and it was almost peaceful. I’ve never…I don’t know what the hell that was.” Paced out for the moment, Travis sat next to Danny, who let him continue telling his story without asking any questions. “When we got to du Champ’s tonight, the same odor of sulfur was there—and we were practically in the middle of nowhere.” “It was pretty strong outside, but when we went in and met that…that Master vampire, I knew where it came from.” Turning to look at Danny in the stark light from the flashlight, he asked the question he’d been dreading. It was the worst and last memory of his life, and the thought of revisiting it made him ill. “Do you know how I was turned? I mean, the story about what happened that night?” Danny nodded slowly, his gaze steady, no flinching away. “Yeah, I read the file before I came to ask you to help. And, well, you know how cops are. Worse gossips than at a church ladies tea. Plus, Maxie filled me in.” “So you know that the identity my attacker is still a mystery. Obviously it hadn’t been the gay bashers, but a Master vampire. It’s still unsolved, and no one in the vampire community was willing to step forward at the time. You can’t blame them, the world was going mad, and they were trying to keep themselves and their people safe. Everyone was in a state of shock.” Travis shook his head, clearing away the memory of how confusing and horrifying it felt to wake up at his own funeral. “Tonight…when I saw du Champ…it was him.” Danny looked confused for just a moment, then Travis saw the understanding dawn in his eyes. “So he’s the one that turned you? Are you sure?”

Slowly nodding, Travis sighed. “It all came together. I don’t really have many memories from that night, he would have…he would have wiped them clean when he…” He shook his head. “I followed Sam, it was a trap, with him in the front, and I was supposed to bring up the rear, only I never got there. Everything happened so quickly. I didn’t even realize I had any memories until I smelled the sulfur at the cemetery. But I know,” he said with complete certainty. “I can remember that odd smell. Like a match that’s just been struck. It’s him.” Danny reached a hand out, covering his and giving a firm squeeze. “I believe you, Travis. We’ll figure it out.” Then he looked down and, Travis noted wryly, slid his hand back slowly. Travis missed the comfort immediately. Fuck. “Why, though?” Danny continued. “Vamps never take that final step to ensure the turn without it being intentional. Even I know that much. So what changed?” “I wish I knew. I don’t know him, never even knew vamps were real until after I woke up. And most of them are so fucking tight-lipped, it would take a crowbar to get the time of day out of one of the fuckers,” he spat. Danny laughed, surprising Travis. “Uh, pot, kettle?” He pointed at Trav’s fangs and laughed harder. “Asshole,” Travis grinned. The smile slipped when he continued. “There’s a lot more to this than we know. And trust me, this not knowing shit? It’s getting old. Especially now that I realize he’s the one responsible for taking my life.” He hoped his voice remained steady on the last words and didn’t crack. He was okay. Really. Burkett let the moment pass without remark, for which Travis was thankful. Although, what Danny said next shocked him nearly as much as discovering the identity of his sire. “That explains something, although it does open a whole ‘nother kettle of fish. Trav,” Danny said solemnly, “we found a calling card of sorts on Jourdain’s body yesterday morning. Your badge.” Trav’s mind went blank. He wasn’t sure what or how to feel after that statement. After a long moment, he went for the low hanging fruit. “Is

that why you asked me to look at this case, Detective? Why you wanted me to come along tonight? Do you think I’m involved in this case?” Now his anger was starting to come back. Good. This was familiar—he could work with this. Not stopping long enough to cool down, he kept at Danny. “Thought you could kill two birds with one stone, maybe? Solve your case, and get rid of the department’s embarrassment once and for all. Well, sorry to disappoint you, Danny,” he said, filling the man’s name with as much venom as he could manage, “but I never met that son of a bitch before tonight. Oh, yeah, well, except for the night he ripped my throat open and drained me.” He started to stand, but stumbled as two strong arms hauled him back down. Suddenly, their refuge from daylight was too small for the two of them. Of course he could have pulled away, as he was ten times stronger than Danny. Than the human, he corrected, trying for emotional distance in the tiny vault. But, given the time of almost day, he allowed himself to be pulled back to the floor with Danny beside him, looking him straight in the face. “Travis, I…we…never thought for one goddamn minute you had anything to do with these murders. I came to ask for your help since you’re someone who can be trusted to tell me the truth. At least that’s what Maxie and Sam said.” Travis flinched a little at that name, but stayed quiet. “We found it on Jourdain’s body, yes, but I figured it was a message from the killer. And it was, in spades.” Travis finally allowed himself to meet Danny’s eyes, and found them gentle, with a trace of humor. “How stupid do you think I would have been to have driven out in the fucking bayou in the middle of the night with a potential suspect, to meet his blood-sucking sire and smooth little werewolf sidekick? And seriously, what the hell is up with that? Not a hair on that boy’s chest.” He snorted, and Travis had to crack a smile at that too. His sudden burst of anger ebbed, only to be replaced with an overwhelming tiredness. “Detective—” “Danny. Please. Calling me Detective all the time makes me think you may not like me. You do like me, don’t you, Travis?” he asked, giving a sidelong glance.

Pushing Danny so that the big man fell to his side, Travis laughed. “I like you well enough. For a detective. Okay. Danny it is.” He smiled, reaching out to give Danny a hand back up. Instead, Danny pulled Travis down on top of him. The suddenness of the move and the closeness of the warm, sexy man underneath him called to something in Travis. Something he buried deep since Sam kicked him to the curb. Deliberately grinding his groin against Danny’s, he grinned when a low moan spilled out and he felt the subtle push-back of hips. Thrusting hard against him one last time just to make his point, Travis sat up and pulled Danny with him. “Clumsy much, Detective?” he asked in a low growl. As tempting as it was to let himself go, Travis needed to change the dangerous mood in room. He hadn’t fed in almost two days, and no way in hell would he allow himself to hurt this man. Better to get things back on a professional footing. He pulled back and leaned against the wall, adding a little more personal space between them. “So,” he said in a much flatter tone, “let’s outline what we know. I’m sure there’s more in that report you haven’t shared with me yet and maybe we can figure out some next steps before I die on you.” At the other man’s startled look, he softened slightly. “It’s what happens. You may not have seen it, but you know what happens, Danny. My body shuts down and I am clinically dead. Don’t ask me if I dream, since I don’t even know if it’s really sleeping. But I’ll be useless to you in the daylight. I still think you should consider leaving me in here and going for help once it’s light out. I’ll be okay, Danny.” There was a long moment of silence and he thought maybe he had gotten through to the man. “I don’t trust that shiny little boytoy not to have had a part in the truck breaking down. No, Travis, I’ll stay and we’ll figure it out. Now, let’s talk about the case.” The finality of that statement wasn’t lost on Travis. Admitting defeat, he relaxed and talked over the major points still remaining. Travis could close the murders of the young vamp and the two teenagers. There was a good amount of circumstantial evidence that suggested Henri du Champ killed Jourdain. If he hadn’t, one of his minions certainly had.

What did remain puzzling was why Vinnie had hidden werewolf canines in his sock drawer? Had the vamp been killing weres…and if so, on whose orders? What was the mysterious spell that seemed to encircle the tomb back at St. Louis Number One—that strange quietness he noticed once he stepped into the crypt where Vinnie had been killed? And most importantly, why was Travis turned to a vampire and then left to wake alone? Could that have been nothing more than timing? After all, the cops had been crawling all over the neighborhood by then. Maybe Travis was the one who got away? As dawn approached, Danny hung one blanket over the door, forcing the fabric into the creases he felt with his fingers, to block out even a trace of light. They fought over the other blanket. Travis wanted Danny to have it to sit on during the day. Danny, of course, thought Travis should use it to lie on while he slept. As his consciousness began to fade, he felt himself being lowered to the ground, the blanket under his back. Looking up, he swore at Danny. “Fuck you, Detective. We agreed.” The last thing he heard before his mind left for the night was Danny’s laughter.

Chapter Seven Celeste hurried through the iron gate, her heart rate elevated enough that she knew the vamp would hear, but she could play it off. “Sam. It’s me… Celeste? You remember me, don’t you? I’m a friend of Mary’s.” She smiled broadly and hoped like hell the cop knew someone named Mary…so he wouldn’t give her away. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her tone light and casual. While she spoke, Celeste deliberately put herself between Sam and the scrawny-looking vamp. A fucking Master vampire should at least look the part. Not like some skinny blond waif who would look more at home in a powdered wig. The handsome detective blinked rapidly and turned his head toward her very slowly, as if waking from a very deep sleep. “Excuse me?” Even as he asked the question, he moved to distance himself from the vamp. Celeste linked her arm through Sam’s and pinched the inside of his wrist hard, trying to bring him fully into awareness of the situation without directly pointing out the danger. She was pretty sure the Master vamp wouldn’t cause a scene, but if he did, help was just a howl away. “It’s a good thing I was cutting through the alley and happened to see you in here, Sam. Travis isn’t supposed to be home tonight. I saw him leave a couple of hours ago. Come on, we’re gonna be late. I told the guys we’d meet them at Fangs.” Celeste turned to the bloodsucker. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to cut in, but we’ve got to go or we’re going to be late. Come on Sam…” Before either man could object, she pulled the cop to safety. Of course, safe was a relative term, since the other members of the pack surrounded them as soon as they left the courtyard.

Thank goodness or luck or fate…whoever or whatever. The death this morning of the vampire Vincent Jourdain had changed things in the shifter community. If the pack hadn’t posted a sentry outside Boudreaux’s place, they never would have gotten to Sam in time. Celeste threw one last look over her shoulder as they turned the corner. There was a momentary shift in the darkness, as if she was seeing the entire scene through a sheen of black liquid, and then the vampire was gone. Fly away home, little bat.

**** Sam felt steadier on his feet by the time they walked into Fangs. It was his first time in the club that celebrated all things preternatural. As soon as they came through the door the driving rhythm pressed against him, matching the heavy beat of his pulse. Sam slowed his pace, blinking rapidly to adjust to the gloomy interior. Blood red sconce lights flickered at even intervals and it took him a few moments to realize the resemblance to an underground cavern was deliberate. The walls were unevenly textured, with stalactites and pillars strategically located with the only truly clear spot a small space for dancing in front of the DJ’s stand. The décor was surprisingly un-cavelike, as if two different interior designers with diametrically opposing points of view had reached an unhappy truce. Sleek leather and chrome booths lined the walls, with additional tall café tables packed closely together. Most people stood, and Sam figured there was probably only seating for about one third of the customers. Men and women wore tight leather and heavy eye make-up, not unlike an Alice Cooper concert…or maybe that was Adam Lambert these days. Who could keep up? The flickering lights made it impossible for him to tell the difference between the nots and the normals. With a figurative slap to the back of his own head, he corrected himself. Between the humans and the supers. He really was going to have to work on his attitude. No one had spoken on the way here, and it occurred to him now that he’d been herded, rather than escorted, by the five large men who’d joined the woman as soon as they’d left Boudreaux’s courtyard. Much as they

were still herding him to a table occupied by a single male in the far back corner of the club. The man stood as the approached. “Leave,” the tall, redheaded man said in a voice that carried to the others in the group, despite the loud music. The men peeled off, but the woman…Celeste…slid into the center of the semi-circular booth and patted the spot beside her on the bench. Sam hesitated, unwilling to put himself in the middle. Finally, with a reassuring touch to his holster, Sam slid in, keeping his back to the wall, practically leaving one leg hanging over the edge in case he needed to stand quickly. He tried to keep his senses attuned to everything going on around him but there was just so much to see, and he needed to focus on the man and the woman in the booth with him. A muscular young waiter in skin-tight leather pants and a bow tie plunked a serving tray on the table before stepping quickly away. Glancing down Sam saw a plate of lime wedges, a saucer of salt, three redrimmed glasses that were roughly the shape of brandy snifters, and a bottle of Jose Cuervo 1800 on the table. He thought it was an excellent idea. “I’m Russ,” the big man said. He’d slid onto the leather bench opposite Sam, but had kept scooting so that he sat next to Celeste with his back to the other wall. Apparently he didn’t feel trapped by the table, but didn’t want his backside vulnerable. He held out a hand as big as a bear’s paw, but the shake was brisk, without any hand-squeezing macho overtones. Sam had a feeling Russ was perfectly comfortable with who… oh fuck—Sam shook his head, not with who…but what he was. God, he could be so fucking stupid sometimes. “My name’s Sam,” he said. He paused, then turned his attention to the woman. “Did you fuck with my mind?” It was illegal for vampires and other supers to use their powers on a human without consent. The penalty was even stiffer if the victim was a cop. But shit, here he was at Fangs, and unless he missed his guess, he was surrounded by a pack of shifters of some type. With the aura of leadership that Russ exuded, it seemed he was the…boss? At least the chosen spokesman.

Even seated, he towered over Sam’s own six-foot frame, and he wasn’t just tall, he was big. Layered in muscle. Reddish brown hair, wideset light brown eyes, and the shadow of a beard dusting over golden skin, it wasn’t hard to imagine the animal in him. Somehow that thought wasn’t nearly as disturbing as it should have been. As disturbing as it would have been a day ago. What was happening to his firmly held convictions? Sam’s experience with the not-normals had been limited to one species—vampires. After that initial brush, he’d wanted nothing more to do with any of them. He’d made his views known loud and clear when the powers-that-be had tried to recruit him for the paranormals task force before the passing of all the new laws. And really, who could blame him? It wasn’t everyday your partner tried to rip off your face. Even though, and he had to be honest with himself here, Travis hadn’t known what he was doing. Newly turned vamps couldn’t control the urge to feed. His head knew it, but that lizard brain still remembered the feel of fangs at his throat. Clearing his throat—or maybe he was growling—Ross drew Sam’s attention back to the present. “Celeste didn’t mind fuck you, Sam. Since it appears that you really didn’t know who you were talking with, let me tell you. The man you were cozied up to at Boudreaux’s might have looked like he just stepped out of mommy’s front door, but he’s well over three hundred years old. He’s a Master vampire, responsible for converting hundreds of humans. And if Celeste hadn’t stepped between the two of you, you’d be dead right now and undead by tomorrow night.” “Converting. You mean killing.” “Some people call it that,” Russ agreed, mildly. “The law calls it murder when the victim in unknowing or unwilling. Are you trying to tell me that fucking twink thought he could make me a vamp?” Russ and Celeste both smiled at him, but the smiles were very different. Celeste looked pleased, as if he’d figured out the answer to a particularly difficult question. Russ looked…predatory. Hungry. Eyes that no longer looked quite human stared at him through the dancing firelight.

“What are you?” Sam asked. His voice came out a choked whisper and the other man’s grin widened. “Werewolf.” He flashed a look over to Celeste, then back to Sam. “Don’t worry. We already know you’re a cop. You’re safe. You have my word.” “And your word means something because…” “Because I’m the biggest, baddest wolf in the pack. Besides, we’ve known who you were for a while now. Your old friend Honey brought you to our attention.” “Honey? You mean Jerome Gorman?” What do werewolves have to do with a dead cross-dressing rent boy? “Honey wasn’t a werewolf…” Sam trailed off, as he remembered the extensive injuries, and just how long it had taken Honey to die. He’d been beaten and gang raped, and the medical examiner said he’d died hard. Sam had seen the lump of flesh that was left…and felt a little sick. It was the case that partnered Sam with Travis. When he looked up those light brown eyes were still watching. “You were nice to Honey. To Jerome. He asked me to keep an eye on you when he left for Biloxi and it sort of became a habit.” “You’ve been following me? Bullshit. I’m a cop. I would have noticed,” Sam bristled. Without answering, Russ picked up a lime and rubbed the cut side over half the rim of the stemmed glass, dipped the lip of the glass in salt, and poured a generous amount of tequila. He held the drink to Sam in a silent offering. When Sam accepted, Russ repeated the process twice more for himself and Celeste. Russ appeared to be using the time to think of a response. Sam waited him out, desire and dread of the answer at war in his muddled mind. “To lost loved ones and new friendships,” Russ said, holding his glass out. With a heavy ting, their glasses met in the middle. Celeste took a delicate sip, then set her glass on the table. Russ drank from the salted half of his glass, tossing nearly half of it back with the first long swallow. Then, without much more than a pause, Russ finished his first glass and was already reaching for the bottle. Sam matched him and accepted the refill.

Russ leaned back and began to talk. “Let me tell this my way, then you can ask questions. Jerome was part of our pack. I gather you don’t know much about wolf culture?” Sam shook his head, then took a sip of his drink. He should have eaten something; two glasses of tequila on an empty stomach would do a number on him if he wasn’t careful. “There’ll be time for the whole werewolf sociology lesson later. For now, think of it like a small town mentality mixed with a loose family structure. We look out for each other but you have to watch out for who’s fucking who. So to answer your earlier question, no, we didn’t exactly follow you, but members of our pack kept an eye on you when we saw you out.” Russ sipped the liquor. “Tonight it was pure luck Celeste saw you. That’s not the first time one our pack has sensed this particular vamp at Boudreaux’s. When you went around back, Celeste sent a message, and then went in after you.” “I was fine,” Sam said. Russ barked a laugh, and Sam couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. He knew the lie for the bravado it was. “Fuck. Okay. I wasn’t fine.” He looked at the other two, the alcohol fueling his candor. “He rolled me, right? That’s what it’s called when a vamp…mesmerizes?” “That’s what you call it when it’s one-on-one, like when du Champ was getting ready take you. Mind fucking isn’t usually as strong, and it doesn’t take a Master vamp. Even some humans can mind fuck you,” Russ said. Celeste sat forward and rested her forearms on the table. “Sam, Henri was toying with you. Or, I don’t know…smelling, savoring you, like you were a gourmet meal. There was a moment when you knew something was wrong, your fear kicked in and you would have chosen flight over fight, but he shut you down like that.” She snapped her fingers. “Why? I mean there are plenty of fangbangers, so why someone unwilling? The new laws…and I’m a cop…” Celeste opened her mouth, but it was Russ who answered. “You smell good—just like a praline. All that dark brown sugar.” He shrugged. Then his mouth twitched as Sam gaped, giving him away a moment

before he laughed. “Hell if we know, Sam. We don’t know why he watches Boudreaux, but we’re pretty sure he’s the young vamp’s sire. Whatever the reason, it’s not good. Never trust a Master, and in this part of Louisiana, stay as far away from Henri du Champ as possible.” Police training finally kicked in despite the alcohol, and Sam realized these two might make good informants. Of course, he’d probably have to turn them over to Danny once he got sprung from his current assignment. “Do

either

of

you

know

anything

about

one

of

du

Champ’s…employees? His name was Vincent Jourdain.” He didn’t miss Celeste’s look of distaste, but the Alpha kept his expression carefully neutral. “We know that Jourdain was found dead at St. Louis Cemetery,” Russ said. “But I didn’t think you were on the Odd Squad. Are you working the case?” “I am. You got something for me?” “Maybe. There’s been a lot of werewolves go missing over the last year. Some think Vinnie and his boss had something to with them.” “There’s not any missing persons reports that I know of.” “These might not be the type of people…of werewolves that get reported,” Russ said carefully. Frowning, Russ turned to look toward the dance floor and finished off his second glass of tequila. Celeste reached for the bottle and filled his glass again. Sam followed the other man’s gaze, watching the sea of people gyrate and sway to the music. When he looked back, his glass had been topped off. Weighing his options, Sam decided he was damn lucky to be alive after his encounter with du Champ-. He could either celebrate or hide, and he was damn glad to be alive at the moment. That seemed like a good reason to celebrate. He was off the clock and it had been a hell of a fucking night. He picked up his glass, toasted the other two, and took a long sip. “You want to give me your contact information so we can talk about this more officially tomorrow? Or am I just supposed to wait for you to rescue me again?”

Russ looked to Celeste. “Write it down for him.” He slid around on the leather seat and moved to stand in front of Sam and held out his hand. “Let’s go.” Not exactly expecting to be dismissed, he drank most of the rest of his tequila in a quick shot. Taking his time, he made sure to get an eyeful of the pack leader before he was sent on his way. Russ wore faded button front jeans tight enough to give Sam a good idea that his junk was probably in proportion with the rest of the big man’s body. His shirt was a casual polo, stretched at the seams, perfectly showcasing well-defined pecs and bulging biceps. The hair was a long, wavy mess that spilled in reddish gold waves around his face and brushed heavy against his shoulders. Sam put his hand into the outstretched paw and let the big man pull him to his feet. Russ didn’t let go once Sam was standing. Instead, he tightened his grip and pulled Sam behind him. Sam was vaguely aware that the men who had stood sentry over their discussion had once again closed ranks around them and he was being led…and herded…toward the deejay’s stand. They were gonna dance? Damn that tequila was going straight to his head…and other places. He’d like to pretend this was just a night in the Quarter and he was out for a good time. Surprisingly, he was enjoying himself. It had been a long time since he’d been dancing, since a good-looking guy had hit on him. The classic rock song with the driving, drum-heavy beat fit their deliberate pace as Russ strutted through the club. People parted like he was Moses, and suddenly there was room for the Alpha and his entourage on the packed dance floor. Russ turned, pulled him close, and clamped his big hands on Sam’s hips. With a powerful thrust, Russ half lifted and half twisted until Sam was pointed in the direction from which they’d just come. His eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat. Blinking rapidly at the new vision in front of him in case this was just a wet dream, he raked his gaze up a broad chest covered by a skin-tight, jade green silk T-shirt. The massive shoulders were encased in a lightweight jacket that did nothing to conceal the shoulder holster or the well-defined

musculature. Forcing himself to keep looking up—way up—he tried to swallow the pool of saliva gathering in his mouth before he drooled. This was one of the sexiest men he’d ever seen. As big as Russ and much darker than Sam, the newcomer had shortcropped black hair, wide-set dark eyes, and a slightly crooked nose that looked as if it had taken one-too-many left hooks. His broad mouth with full lips was exactly the kind that looked so fucking good wrapped around a cock. Preferably Sam’s. Presumably, this was one of the bodyguards, although Sam hoped like hell he hadn’t overlooked this man when he’d scanned the group around the table earlier. He wasn’t drop dead handsome like Russ, but he was goddamn perfect in that bend-me-over-and-make-me kind of way. Sam’s dick stood up and took notice. “Meet Jet, my Beta,” Russ growled. He leaned over Sam’s shoulder to press a kiss to the big man, who’d moved in close enough that he brushed lightly against Sam’s chest when he leaned forward to reach Russ. Watching the two men kiss this up-close-and-personal made Sam want to have a taste. Even in the dim light of the club, he could see the sharp contrast between their skin, the dark and the light, the pink tongue tangled with the dusky rose, the long mess of rust-colored tresses spilling and surrounding them all. One of the men moaned low in his throat and Sam wasn’t at all sure that it hadn’t been him. Jesus. The room seemed suddenly very hot and possibly in motion as Sam tried to tear his gaze away. He swayed slightly, and four hands tightened, keeping him upright and sandwiched between the two men. Lord, I had a lot to drink. Pushing against the body in front of him and trying to step away from the sexy almost-dance the three of them were doing, Sam cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. Maybe he could regain a little control if he went back to asking questions and kept his tone business-like. “Jet? Jet what?” he asked in his most cop-like voice, although it might have ruined the effect a little when his eyes dropped down to check out the big man’s package.

When he looked back up, he watched a slow, mocking smile form over the broad mouth. With a flash of white teeth, the sexy-ass big man answered. “Jet Black.” Russ barked his big laugh again, tightened his grip on Sam’s hips, and jerked him back. He began a slow, hard grind as soon as his cock was nested against Sam’s ass and gave Sam a good idea what was behind those little brass buttons on Russ’s jeans. Jet’s hands covered Russ’s and he stepped closer, so that they were crotch-to-crotch and Jet appeared to be every bit as interested as his boss. They moved in a driving rhythm, pressing against him, fucking him through his jeans. Two pairs of hands started to explore his body, unbuttoning his shirt, palms sliding up the planes of his chest, fingers tweaking and tugging at his nipple rings. As the two men moved closer together, Sam’s face was pressed tight against Jet’s shoulder, and he was surrounded by the musky smell of man and something wilder, untamed. It was like they were in a fucking swamp, surrounded by cypress and water. Sounds faded, muffled away until all he heard was the beat of three hearts, an elemental drumming that rolled around inside him, reaching for his soul. He was hungry to belong, his need to be claimed primal. He wanted to join his voice with theirs, to fight against the unnatural quiet that pressed down on him, to howl his desire to the wind. A hot mouth pressed kisses against his neck. The rough velvet pull of tongue smoothed over his head. He closed his eyes and knew he’d never smelled anything like this on another man’s skin. Man? Wolf. Holy fuck.

**** Jet tasted the smooth skin of Sam’s bald head. The faintest bristle scraped against his tongue adding to the salty tang that filled his mouth. This taste would stay with him. Standing this close to Russ, with the sexy Sam Garrett between them, felt more like home than anything Jet could remember. Before or after he’d been turned. He closed his eyes, as his momentary distraction allowed memories of that night to flood him.

~~~

At sixteen, and the oldest of six children, it had been Jamal’s responsibility to take care of the younger kids on the nights his dad was out. Which was pretty damn near every night, since most of the time the old man never came home at all. Sometimes he brought his tricks back to the dilapidated two-bedroom housing project apartment the seven of them squeezed into. Most of the time, Jenkins Goreman…Dad…was on his knees in a back alley off Bourbon trading tricks for booze. It had been up to Jamal to find food and clothes for the kids, by hook or by crook, and usually the latter. The only merciful thing about that night was the swiftness of the attack. His father came home much earlier than usual, his arm wrapped around another man, apparently the two of them had staggered the short distance from Bourbon to Desire Street together. They brought with them the stench of booze and unwashed bodies, and a sense of wrong that was hard for a teenaged Jamal to describe. But he sensed it…. Big for his age, Jamal could take care of himself, but he hadn’t liked the way the stranger was looking at some of the younger children, especially the baby, Jerome. He knew there were some men who would pay big bucks to have sex with a kid. He was only glad his dad hadn’t thought of selling any of them yet. Moving quickly, but trying not to show his nerves, Jamal had pushed the kids into the other bedroom, closed the door firmly, then sat with his back against the hollow door, gipping the kitchen knife he’d grabbed for protection. He wished there was a way to lock them inside and keep them all safe. The children huddled on the mattress on the floor, and his sister Julia tried to put her thin arms around all of them. “Shh…” he said. “Daddy will be done in little while and when he leaves we can go watch some more TV.” It wasn’t much comfort, but it was all he knew. Jerome started to cry, the silent tears dripped slowly down his little face, and Jamal’s hatred for their shared daddy grew. He’d never known any of the mothers for long, but little Jerome’s had stuck around for the shortest time. She’d caught on real quick to the old man’s game. It was still a wonder why his dad always kept the kids, but he did. And now they were Jamal’s responsibility. As the sounds of the fucking and

fighting from the other room grew louder, Jerome ran across the room and crawled in his lap, forcing Jamal to move the kitchen knife to his left hand. A feral growl rumbled through the apartment, much like the sound he’d heard once from the lion enclosure on a field trip to the zoo. He felt the deep noise low in his belly and terror filled him. That was not a sound that should be coming from their living room. He gripped the knife tighter and tried to push Jerome back to the others, but his brother clung on like a monkey. A horrible, wet scream ended with a crunch and another growl, then the door he was leaning against crashed inward. The world went black as Jamal was crushed underneath the splintered wood. When he regained consciousness, he thought he might be in a nightmare because what he saw made no sense. His brothers and sister were in a bloody heap on the mattress while a dog bigger than anything he’d ever seen stood over the bodies, its lips curled in a snarl revealing sharp teeth dripping with blood. Jerome stood between him and the dog, crying, shaking, but holding the knife as if he thought to protect Jamal. Very slowly the dog crouched, belly low to the ground as it stepped over Julia’s body, coming toward Jerome, toward Jamal. The growl was a constant rumble that vibrated straight through him and in a moment of absolute certainty, he knew he was staring death in the face. It was that thought, the realization that he was the only thing between the beast and his baby brother, that propelled Jamal from the floor just as the dog sprang forward. Grabbing Jerome around the waist with his left arm, he wrapped his hand around the boy’s slender wrist and together they thrust the knife deep into the beast’s belly. With a piteous howl, the dog clawed and scratched, trying to jerk free of the knife, but Jamal ignored the pain and shoved the blade deeper. There was a commotion behind him, but he couldn’t let go, wouldn’t look away from the yellow eyes, only inches from his own. More growls filled the air, as three more dogs charged into the room through the gaping hole of a doorway. He knew a moment of absolute terror before he realized the new dogs were helping him. The biggest dog was a reddish looking beast that snapped his big jaw, caught their attacker by the scruff of his neck,

and with a hard jerk of his head, tossed the now-whimpering animal into the wall. The room shook under the force of the impact and the mad, bloody dog fell to the ground, unmoving. Jamal grabbed his baby brother and started swiping at the blood, trying to find where the injuries were. Both boys were taking shuddering breaths, as if neither could find enough oxygen in the room. “Call the cops, call the cops,” Jamal cried, his voice high and thready, barely above a whisper. He wasn’t even sure who he was talking to. None of the neighbors would have called, no matter what they heard. The projects weren’t on anyone’s neighborhood watch. Looking wildly around, trying to figure out how to get away before the dogs turned on him next, Jamal let out a scream as the big red dog melted away and before him stood a man. It was that man who took them into his home and when it was discovered the boys had in fact contracted lycanthropy, he’d taught them to be part of the pack they were destined to join.

~~~ Strong hands pushed against his chest, and Jet smelled the bitter tang of Sam’s sudden panic. The man wasn’t ready yet. Stepping back he let the detective slip from between them and tracked him all the way to the door. Others would watch to make sure Sam got to his destination safely. Jet turned and looked into the face of the man who had saved him that night. Russ was more than his Alpha, he was his life, and Jet would do anything…anything at all to keep his lover safe and make him happy. “We need to hunt before the moon,” Russ said, his growl washing over Jet like a familiar breeze. Passion curled in Jet’s loins, and he ran his tongue over the sharp points of his upper canines. He let everything he was feeling fill his eyes as he smiled at his lover.

Chapter Eight Naked legs entwined, three shades of flesh, hot, hard. Sam’s head dropped back onto the pillow as mouths worked their way down his chest. Russ bit, hard enough to leave marks. Jet licked long velvet strokes, swiping over Sam’s goose-pebbled flesh. They worked in a perfect tandem, bringing Sam’s pleasure to the edge of pain, soothing him, always promising more. One of those big hands rolled him up onto his side and he shakily looked down to watch as Jet’s pink tongue continued to work magic on Sam’s cock. He licked from base to tip, dipped into the slit, then back down again. Hard hands gripped him from behind, spreading his ass cheeks, and he jerked at the first hard press of teeth and tongue against that tender opening. Another broad lick across his abs shifted his focus again. Within moments there was no front, no back, just sensation, tongues, teeth, fingers, big strong hands…Russ and Jet were devouring him and he wasn’t going to last, couldn’t hold on to his orgasm any longer. “Gonna…” He gasped. His legs jerked, hips pumped against Russ from behind and Jet in front, he was falling…. The ringing of the phone ripped him from his dream, his dick hard and balls so tight they hurt. Jesus. Blinking against the harsh morning sunlight, Sam reached for his phone and tried to focus on the clock across the room. What the hell time is it? His voice came out like a strangled curse. “Garrett.”

**** All Danny could think was how dead Travis looked. In the fading glow of flashlight, he might be able to pretend the vampire was sleeping,

except his chest didn’t move. At all. So he wasn’t kidding when he said he died every morning. For a brief moment, Danny wondered if it was painful, if it really was like dying. And what happened when he woke. Was his mind dreaming when he was…gone? He knew Trav had made a joke about not knowing if he dreamed, but he just wondered what happened. He waited for a few minutes, assuring himself that the tiny bits of light from the early morning sun wouldn’t be an issue. He could see the dim rays through the edges of the blanket, but none came anywhere near where he had laid Travis on the other side of the crypt. The solid block of stone between the door and Trav should shield him. He found himself checking every few minutes, until he felt reassured enough Trav would be safe. Glancing at his watch, he saw it was slightly after nine in the morning. This was gonna be a long day, but he needed sleep himself, so that would help pass the time. Pulling out his cell phone, he was surprised to see there were three bars now. What the hell? The night before, he couldn’t even get one. He made a mental note to add signal interference to the list of items that needed explanation. Flipping through his contacts, his thumb hovered over Sam’s number. He hesitated, unsure how the man would feel about helping him out if he knew Travis was involved. He was pretty sure it wasn’t hatred that he saw on Sam’s face when Travis’s name came up. More like…confusion? Regret? Maybe a little anger. Pushing those thoughts aside, he hit connect and waited. After five rings, Sam picked up. “Garrett.” Shit, Danny smiled. He recognized that early morning growl from their brief time together. Sam sounded like sex. He swallowed once, and put on his best professional voice. “It’s Danny. I need your help.” He could hear Sam moving around and wondered if he’d actually interrupted something. God, he really needed to get his mind off his libido and on to police business. He waited, still straining to hear if someone was there with Sam. “What do you need, Danny? It’s been a long night, and I really…” Sam stopped and sighed. “What can I do for you, Dan?”

Danny dove right in. “I was investigating the leads we got from your search of Jourdain’s room. We paid a visit to that Master’s house out in Houma and…well, the truck died last night. We’re stuck out here, and I need you to check on my truck for me so I can get out of here tonight.” A very long pause followed. He waited it out. Finally, “We.” Not a question. “You picked up Boudreaux and went to see the vampire that turned him. With no back-up. Knowing that du Champ is probably involved in the murders somehow. And now you want my help. Do I have it pretty much right there, Burkette?” Ouch. “Well, yeah. Except…how did you know that was the vamp that turned him?” “I just found out last night and it’s a long story. So what is it you want me to do?” “The truck stalled out a few miles from du Champ’s place, and we had to take refuge in a cemetery here. I can’t risk opening the door with the sun up, and we’ll be trapped here again tonight if I can’t get the truck working. Will you give me a hand here, Sam? Please?” He held his breath waiting for the answer. “Where are the fucking keys? You know you’re gonna owe me big here, right?” Danny could hear Sam rustling through what he figured was clothes and swearing under his breath. He heard a zipper being pulled up, and imagined Sam in those tight jeans he tended to favor. “Whatever you want to extract as a price, I’m up for it,” he said. His voice huskier than he'd thought it would be. Everything stilled on the other end of the line. “I’m gonna hold you to that,” Sam growled at him. “Now, where the fuck are you?” Danny fought down his arousal and gave Sam the information. Then sat back and waited. He wished he had a notebook to record all the questions rolling around in his head. Sitting next to the door, he allowed himself to close his eyes and drift off, thoughts of how he could pay Sam back for his help running through his dreams.

****

The blare of “Born on the Bayou” jerked Danny from his sleep. Sam. He hit connect and barked out, “Sam?” “What the hell, Burkette? There’s not a damn thing wrong with your truck. Hit on the first turn and purring like a kitten. What’s going on here?” Sam sounded more puzzled than angry, his tone softer than his words. Danny rubbed his eyes and stretched out his back. Sleeping on cold stone floors was for the birds. And vampires, he thought. “I swear to you, Sam, everything on it shut down last night. The lights, everything. And when I tried to use my cell, nothing there too. Something strange is happening here, man, and it’s more than just the murders we know about.” “We need to compare notes. I had an interesting night last night, too. Not gonna go into it now, but how about we get together tomorrow and close these cases? I’ll leave your keys back under the fender. Call me when you’re back and we’ll decide when.” “Cool. Thanks, Sam. I really appreciate it. I know it wasn’t what you wanted to do on your day off, and considering Travis—” “Not a problem. I’ll talk to you later,” Sam interrupted, ending the call. Danny glanced down at his phone. “Okay then.” The rest of the day was spent dozing and sipping water, eating granola bars and crackers from the picnic basket. When he got back to the city, Danny already made plans for some gumbo and étouffée and maybe a nice steak. He thought about playing Angry Birds on his cell phone, but didn’t want to risk losing the charge completely. There was no guarantee that the truck would still work when they got out. Too much about Henri du Champ was a mystery, and he planned to dig deep and uncover all the vamp’s secrets. Finally the barely perceptible light began to change in the small enclosure, minutes dragging until the shift from gloom to total darkness was nearly complete. Danny moved closer to Travis, crouched down on his haunches and turned on the flashlight. He watched the slow moments begin, the rise of his chest as breath started, the almost imperceptible

flickers behind his eyelids. Slowly, Travis opened his eyes. “Trav, you back in the land of the living, buddy?” he joked. Travis slowly licked his lips, his tongue flickering over his fangs. Funny, Danny never really noticed them if the man wasn’t baring them in anger or play. Now, he was ultra-aware of the slow smile on Trav’s face, the glimmer in his eyes that spoke of pleasure. He leaned closer, bringing his lips to Travis’s and brushing them slowly across the vamp’s mouth. The corner of his lip slid across one of the razor points, tearing slightly and he pulled back sharply to look down at the heavy-lidded man. With a slow blink, Travis licked at the drips of blood, as if he tasted some sweet and sticky treat left behind after dessert. Danny caught his breath fascinated by the tip of tongue rolling over lip and fang, by the hunger on the other man’s face. He never looked away, even as some distant part of his mind was screaming at him to get the fuck away! The rest of him was fully aware of how sexy Trav’s blue-gray eyes were, aware of the sculpted mouth, strong jaw, cleft chin, and how much he suddenly wanted him. Moving slowly, as if giving them both time to change their minds, Danny shifted to his knees, then lowered himself to fully stretch his body along Trav’s. When there was no objection, Danny rolled on top of Travis and crushed his mouth to the vampire’s in a passionate kiss. Hips pressed to hips, the hard bulge of Danny’s jeans lined up perfectly with the man underneath him, and he began a slow grind to ease the pressure building in his groin. Then ownership of the kiss transferred and Travis cupped his face with strong, cool fingers, while his tongue explored Danny’s mouth. He gasped to breathe around the demanding kiss, so tenderly given. A gentle exploration, masking a desperate need. The friction made him groan, and he felt the vampire’s hunger all the way to his soul. Pulling back from the kiss, Danny raised his head, baring his throat in a long arch of neck. He closed his eyes at the velvet feel of Trav’s tongue as he traced a line from collarbone to jaw, rolling his hips hard under Danny. The waves of pleasure overtook him, and he met Travis, thrust for thrust, aware only briefly of the slight pain when Travis eased his fangs into him. Vaguely, he remembered that vampire saliva could act as an

analgesic, but all he could really focus on was the line of fire from his neck to his cock. Travis sucked on Danny’s neck, their hips grinding together, the telltale ball of electricity beginning to form in his spine. Travis moaned, losing his rhythm and bucking hard. The pulse of his cock through the heavy denim tipped Danny over the point of no return. The waves of his orgasm blinded him, tightening every muscle in his body, and he moaned from somewhere deep in his chest. He collapsed against Trav, who was riding out his own pleasure, as the bite shifted to a gentle caress of tongue. Intimate, nearly too much and Danny lost himself in the moment. Danny laid there, his weight resting on Travis, sated, limp, gasping for breath. Travis bucked hard once more, only this time Danny found himself on the ground, alone on the blanket. Confused at the sudden abandonment, Danny reached for the flashlight. Shining the watery beam around the small room, he found Travis crouched on the floor in the opposite corner, arms hugged tightly around his bent knees. Worried by the sudden change, he crawled over, knees scrabbling across the concrete, until he could touch Travis’s arm. When he jerked away, Danny couldn’t hold back. “Travis? Are you okay?” Slowly, Travis raised his head, his eyes had gone dark, with no white showing whatsoever. Danny sucked in a sharp breath, but didn’t look away. “I am so sorry, Danny. So very sorry.” His voice was hoarse, a shell of what Danny was used to hearing. Trav's shoulders slumped and he rested his head on his arms. “It’s okay, Travis. Honestly, I’m not complaining.” He tried to laugh to lighten the moment, but it trailed away when Travis looked up and he saw the pain in his eyes. “You don’t understand. Danny, I’ve never fed from a human before. I swore I never would. I’ve seen what happens when it gets out of control, and I….” Trav’s voice shook and Danny watched him struggle to pull himself together. “I won’t hurt anybody. Please tell me I didn’t hurt you.” Danny’s hand went to his neck, and he couldn’t deny the bite mark on his neck was a little sore, but no worse than most of the bumps and

bruises he’d get chasing a suspect. So, no, he wasn’t hurt hurt. “No, Travis, I swear. It’s just a bite. And the rest,” he shivered, “I’m not sure if you meant to roll me like that, but holy hell, it was good. We were good.” Travis closed his eyes, then opened them and locked glazes with Danny. A little shudder of excitement ran down his spine, but held himself still. “It can’t happen again,” Trav said, and disappointment washed through Danny. Trav squared his shoulders and hardened his face, before slowly taking his feet. He cleared his throat and moved toward the door to take down the blanket. “Well, Detective, did you solve the transportation problem? Can we get back to the city now?” Travis’s tone left no room for further discussion of what happened. Pushing himself to his feet, Danny said, “Sam came to check on it for us. Everything was in working order.” Despite the dim light, Danny didn’t miss the narrowing of eyes and tight jaw. Travis didn’t seem at all pleased at the mention of the other detective. “So Detective Garrett knows you were here with me.” It wasn’t a question. Saying nothing, Danny busied himself picking up the other blanket and the basket. “Let’s go,” Trav said, pushing the mausoleum door open. Together, they walked to the truck without speaking. When Danny retrieved the keys the truck did indeed crank, and they drove off together back to the city. Neither man tried to talk; Danny knew it would be futile, and he welcomed the time to figure out how he felt about all that had happened. And wished for a shower and clean jeans.

Chapter Nine It was a fucking mistake to go out again so soon after his little field trip last night, but Danny decided their meeting couldn’t wait, and they both needed to eat. Since Sam hadn’t been to the grocery store all week and Danny had been trapped in a crypt all day, eating out was the only option. That didn’t explain the decision to meet at Fangs. There were hundreds of restaurants in the Vieux Carré, many of them favorites of locals and free from the pressing crowds of a preternaturals club, yet here they were, hip to hip at the crowded bar. The food was hot, quick, and standard bar fare with cutesy names like Bat Bites for the chicken tenders. They split a Wolfy Wonder, which was really a dinner plate-sized sandwich made with Italian meats, cheeses, and olive salad, known everywhere else in New Orleans as a muffaletta. For a while they just sat, sipping beer, eating, and people watching in the mirror that hung behind the bar. Sam caught site of Jet as the big man passed through the bar on his way toward the back. The corner booth was out of sight, hidden behind a phalanx of guards. Did that mean Russ was here, too? Probably. He had to give the men credit for respecting boundaries. Even ones set so late. After their intense dirty dancing, Sam had remembered who he was and, more importantly, what they were. When he’d pulled back from the manwich, Russ and Jet had let him go. But he hadn’t missed the hunger in their eyes. He shivered at the memory. It didn’t matter how hot the promise of sex was, or even how enlightened he was becoming, he didn’t think he could ever go so far as to fuck the not-normals. With a shake of his head, he corrected himself. Again. He didn’t do anything with the supers. Really? Then why am I sitting here now? He shifted his focus to look at his own reflection. Black. Gay. Cop. He understood only too well what it

was like to be on the outside. It was time to own up to why he had a hateon for the preternaturals? Travis. Confused, scared, and starving, he’d sat up in his coffin and turned to his partner in those first few minutes of his undeath. Unable to help himself, he’d tried to sink his new fangs into Sam’s neck. It had taken five cops to pull him off, and then only because Travis was beyond weak from not feeding. Sam had watched in horror as they’d carted him off to give him transfusions until they could figure out what to do to help the latest victim of vampirism. Obviously the world had learned a lot about vampires since then but that first glimpse, not knowing if he'd survive an attack…it had been terrifying. Interrupting the unhappy memories, Danny leaned closer against him in order to make himself heard. “Did you know that most preternaturals have superior hearing? Since your place is closest, I’d suggest we go there to talk.” “Yeah, all right. Just let me finish my beer.” “No hurry. I’ve got all night…remember? You’re the one working days.” Danny grinned. “Nice try. Since we’re both enjoying a brew…” “Yeah, well. You got me there. Then since we’re both off the clock, how about a dance before we head out…for old time’s sake? What do you say?” Sam turned and looked Danny full in the face, trying to judge where this was coming from. The man was hot, no question of that. They fit damn good together in bed, too. It was just they didn’t see things the same way when it came to the vampires and werewolves. Danny wanted to protect and serve, while Sam would have been locking all the undeads and

wereanimals

up

together

and

throwing

away

the

key.

Only…now…can I really say I still feel that way? God, Danny was so close he could just lean over and plant a kiss on those soft lips. His shaggy black hair was as unruly as it had always been, but it was the heat in those light, soft blue eyes that nearly undid him. “Yeah. Okay.” Standing, Sam swallowed down the last of his beer. He set the mug on the bar and, not wanting to leave an open tab when they went to dance, reached for his wallet. The bartender floated over to him

and all Sam could do was stare for a long moment at the man. Native American? Coppery skin that almost glowed, amber eyes, and hair the color of night. Something about the man just drew his attention. “Money’s no good here, Detective Garrett,” the man said in a voice that seemed to float in layers washing over him like warm water. What. The. Fuck? Danny leaned in. “What do you mean—no good?” “I mean the owner says Detective Garrett and guest are comp’d. You gentlemen have a nice rest of the evening, now,” the bartender said. He floated away to pull a beer for another customer, but not before Sam caught the glance he gave the back corner of the bar. He gave his own quick look and found Russ watching him before one of the bodyguards shifted, blocking the big werewolf from view. Sam shivered at the memory of those big hands on him, and wasn’t entirely sure if it was the dream or reality that had his dick stiffening. “Yeah, let’s dance.” He wanted a little bit of friction right now, even if this was the worst possible location for him to work through the confusion that plagued him. They moved in time to the music, bodies facing each other, eyes moving restlessly over the crowd. He’d never danced with Danny before, but if all the men he danced with were going to be so much bigger than he was, he might start to get a complex. Or start to feel like a girl. He grinned at the thought, and Danny caught his smile and gave it back. He felt a little twinge of regret. Danny was another good one who’d slipped away. Before Trav, Sam had never thought of himself as a forever kind of guy. But during the course of that one fateful evening, Sam had seriously started to think about finding someone he could count on, who would always be there…who he could love. He rolled his eyes at the sappy thought, then glanced back at Danny. The possibility of a future had hovered for a moment with Trav, snatched away by a fucking vamp before they could even give it a try. With Danny, it had been more casual, sort of friends-with-benefits. It hadn’t been the same connection as he’d had with Trav, but it had been good. There’d been potential. But Sam hadn’t been able to get over

Danny’s attitude toward the new laws and the preternaturals they protected. He had no one but himself to blame for pushing Danny away. Then last night…how could he explain that? According to the werewolves, if it hadn’t been for their timely intervention, he’d be looking for blood tonight instead of eating a sandwich…the thought nearly made him gag. Yet instead of running for home and locking the door behind him after the near disastrous encounter, Sam had come here. To Fangs. With a pack of werewolves, no less. He’d shared drinks and laughed and danced. It was as normal as any evening with friends. In fact, he’d come so damn close to getting fucked, even his dreams had been full of dark fantasies. The thought should have disgusted him, not made him even harder. Black. Gay. Cop. The thoughts echoed around in his head again as he continued to struggle with all the thoughts and desires that had found a fissure in his armor of…hate? Was that who he’d become? Sam blew out a breath. Enough introspection for one night. He just needed some good nostrings-attached fun. A couple of hours where these new ideas and feelings would just leave him the fuck alone. Maybe just like this dance, Danny would agree to a quick fuck, for old time’s sake. If Sam didn’t find some relief soon, he was going to blow. His hand in the shower wasn’t even close to what he needed. He wanted to be on his hands and knees with a big cock filling him and teeth on his neck claiming him. His whole body shuddered at the image. As if summoned, a hard body slammed against him from behind and his knees buckled with the impact. Big arms circling his waist kept him from falling, and moved him forward until he was pressed against Danny. Sam looked into the other detective’s eyes and saw hunger mixed with confusion reflected there. “Did you bring us a present, Sam? Because you friend looks like he would taste just as good as you.” Russ rumbled from close behind him. A quick look over Danny’s shoulder confirmed Jet’s presence and interest. Danny’s eyes flicked from Sam’s face to Russ’s looming over him.

“Friends of yours, Sam?” Danny asked. He shouted his question to be heard over the blare of music, but there was a husky, sexy quality to his normally smooth voice. Shit, he was as turned on as Sam was. Working to maintain his cool, and hoping the other two would leave, Sam grinned back. “Couple of strays tried to follow me home last night. They’re harmless.” The growl spilled over and rumbled straight through him, creating a flutter in his stomach and drawing his balls up tight. Danny’s eye’s widened, and he jerked forward a little, as if pushed from behind. Sam suspected Danny was getting a hard cock pressed against his ass, to match the one Russ was wielding like a club behind him. Russ leaned down and slipped his hand inside the front of Sam’s pants, wrapping a fist around Sam’s straining cock. Very slowly, he slid his hand up, a firm grip that was almost, but not quite, enough to offer the relief Sam needed. When Russ rubbed his palm over the head of his cock, the pre-cum made the next slide smooth and wet. Oh. Fuck. Fighting the urge to pump into that big paw took everything he had, and Sam worried he was about to blow his load standing there trapped between these three big men. With his mouth close to Sam’s ear, he whispered, “Don’t think you can run forever, Sam. I know you want me, want us. The scent of the pack is on you now. One night very soon, I’m gonna put you on your knees and fuck that pretty little ass. We’re gonna claim you.” Slipping his hand free, he reached across Sam and Danny and slipped his fingers into Jet’s mouth. The thick, wide lips sucked him in, and watching Jet’s tongue as he started to lick and clean his pre-cum from Russ’s hand was nearly enough to finish what the big man had started. The two bigger men stepped back, leaving Sam so hard he wasn’t sure he could walk…he looked up and saw Danny watching him, his blue eyes dark with some emotion. “I think we better go to your place. It looks like maybe we both have stories to tell. That was fucking hot.” Danny grabbed his hand and pulled him through the crowd to the exit.

****

Travis put the snifter of blood down and closed his eyes, refusing to watch any more of the scene that was playing out on the dance floor. The initial brief flare of anger had burned out, and now he was numb. No, that wasn’t exactly right either. He was relieved in an odd way. He wanted Sam to be happy, and seeing him and Danny making a connection was a good thing. Maybe it was time he let his anger and hurt go. He really couldn’t blame Sam for not wanting to have anything to do with him. That whole trying-to-make-a-meal-out-of-your-partner thing kind of put the kibosh on romance. There had been so much potential for Sam and him, much more than the few stolen hours they’d gotten. They’d had a real connection and he knew—just knew—that if he hadn’t been killed that night, that it would have been him and Sammy out there on the dance floor grinding. And no fucking way would he let those dogs touch Sam. Then he realized, had things worked out differently that night two years…Fangs wouldn’t exist. Werewolves and vampires had only been creatures of nightmares and fiction, or so the world had believed. But all things considered, this was maybe the motivation he needed to shake this…inertia off. Because, really, two years stuck in his house was starting to get on his nerves. He hadn’t even cleaned out the first two floors of the townhouse. The dust elephants—they had mutated beyond bunnies months ago. He just kept adding box after box of books and they were threatening to take over. Since he’d been turned, Travis had obsessively read every piece of fiction and nonfiction ever written on vampires and other preternatural creatures. Then with long nights and not much to do once the third floor had been renovated, he’d started compiling a database on all the things he’d learned…fact or fiction about the preternatural creatures of the world. Now he realized he needed to get his act together, really think about what to do next. He’d never be a cop again. That fact had been on his mind all night long. Shit, maybe I should just put all the damn books on shelves and open a bookstore. Sitting back with a sigh, he thought about how tonight had started, what had finally brought him out into the world.

~~~

He was restless, and more than ever felt like he was hiding from the world. His thoughts kept going back to the incident with Danny. The memory of the fresh blood in his mouth…the hot coppery taste. Better than any wine he’d ever had in his life. It was like the difference between masturbating and then having sex for the first time with someone. The mechanics were the same, but the experience? Holy fuck, there was no comparison. The blood that he bought and warmed in the Normalizer was enough to keep him alive, and that was all well and good. But to experience it straight from the source? He could taste the distinct flavor and experiences that made up Danny Burkette. Nothing had prepared him for that. Suddenly the room felt too small, no air and no space for him to breathe there. He didn’t know where, but he had to get out of there and, if nothing else, just walk the Quarter to feel part of life again. To feel a connection. Grabbing his keys, he pounded down the two flights of stairs and stood outside the building. The air outside was freer, allowing him to take a few deep gulps and regain some of his composure. Picking a direction, he started walking, mingling among the people. He slowly lost that empty sense of loss that bore down on him relentlessly, opening his senses to the sounds and colors and smells of the area. In no time, he found himself standing in front of Fangs. Funny, he hadn’t planned to stop there, but now that he was there, why the fuck not. He nodded at the bouncer, a tall, tattooed vamp wearing blood-red contact lenses and chaps. And nothing much else. Letting his eyes slide down the tightly muscled frame of the man, he felt the blood in his veins start to burn. Flicking his eyes up to meet the vamp’s gaze, he nodded and smiled, getting a quick glance of approval of his own. The heat of the crowd and the heavy beat of the rock music slammed into him almost physically. He stood for a moment to gather himself, forcing his enhanced senses into submission, and turned toward the relative safety of the bar. As he adjusted to the dimmer light, he noticed the man behind the bar. The man had piercing amber-brown eyes, long black hair so straight it might have been ironed, and skin the color of

bronze—miles and miles of it under a barely-there leather vest and lowslung jeans. He was deceptively tall with long, strong muscles—like an athlete—and right then he was smiling at Travis as if they were sharing a secret, private joke. Travis extended his focus in a heartbeat, then withdrew it again. The bartender was human. But there was a flavor of otherness to him too. Not wrong or evil, just…something. “What can I get you, handsome?” The man’s voice as smooth and smoky as the scotch Trav used to enjoy. “We have all flavors available. Maybe a little AB?” Blinking in surprise, Travis nodded slowly. It was his favorite, but it must be a coincidence that this man would know that. He watched the confident moves, the quick dunking of the bag of blood into the Normalizer, how the bartender transferred it to a snifter and had it in front of him in a little over a minute. Travis brought the glass to his mouth and sipped, rolling the blood around in his mouth before swallowing. Good. But not as good as from the source. The slight smile the man wore as he watched him intrigued Travis. “What’s your name? I’ve never seen you when I’ve come to get my…supplies,” Travis asked. “You may call me Talon,” the bartender said, and raked a bold gaze over Travis. Travis might not be a detective anymore, but his bullshit meter wasn’t broken. Something about this man tweaked at him. “Talon. Yeah, you sure look like a Talon. And you can call me— “ “Travis. And I assure you my name is Talon. Or Talon Koi Ishto, if you insist on being formal.” He winked and moved down the bar to serve another customer. Travis stood a moment, searching his memory for something, anything to explain how Talon knew his name. Where they may have met, a case he may have interviewed the man over. Not a damn thing came to mind. As if sensing his struggle, Talon came back into view. “We haven’t met,” he said, answering the unasked question. “I make it a habit to know the good ones wherever I go, though.” His gaze left Travis’s and settled

somewhere over his right shoulder. Travis turned to see what captured the guy’s attention. Had he not been standing against the bar, he wasn’t sure his legs would have kept him upright. The crowd parted, creating a perfect visual frame for the four men on the dance floor. Two big men…the bright energy emanating from them in waves spoke of werewolves. The wolves were pressed against two human men, and from the warm red vibrations, they were all aroused. He watched the slow, sexy dance, wondering what it would feel like to be pressed up against so much muscle, so much heat…he reached down to adjust his suddenly very interested cock. Just as he considered moving closer for a better look, the foursome shifted, and he saw who the wolves had pressed in the middle of their dirty dance. Danny. And Sam. How was it possible that his blood both boiled and froze at the same time? The sight of the two men he’d shared so much with—Sam, his heart and Danny, blood. Both of their heads were thrown back, pleasure and arousal plain on their faces while the two big werewolves ground against them, the larger redhead shoving his hand down Sam’s pants. Travis had actually hissed and started to move towards them when a warm, firm grip on his bicep pulled him back. Furious, he’d whirled around, fangs bared and ready to fight. Talon’s calm amber eyes with the brown flakes, peaceful like leaves falling from oaks in the fall, brought him back to an even keel. The man watched him, catlike, until Trav’s lips relaxed, once again hiding the fangs, and the throbbing in his ears retreated. As did the almost painful tightness in his groin. “They are good guys, too, Travis Boudreaux. And your friends are in no danger. At least, not from those two. And I am not sure you would want to live with the consequences of a confrontation over some harmless flirtation.” Talon released his arm and slid back behind the bar. The feeling slowly returned to his hand and arm. Unsure how the smaller man managed to restrain him so solidly, but grateful he had, Travis picked up the snifter and took a swallow of the cooling blood. He reached into his wallet and threw a twenty onto the bar, cutting off Talon’s attempt to stop him.

“Thank you. I have to go now.” Travis suddenly felt tired and more alone now than ever. Before he could turn completely to the door, that strong grip stopped him again, this time more gently. He glanced around and Talon smiled a small, knowing look on his perfect features. “It won’t always be like this, Travis.” With a final squeeze of Travis’s arm, he moved to the other end of the bar, his movements sure and graceful. Strangely soothed, Trav stole a glance at the solid back and ass of the man, then sat back down. Opening his senses back up for just a moment, he caught…panther? Leopard? Something long and sleek and strong, benign but oh-so-dangerous when roused. When Talon turned a knowing glance backwards, his inner predator blinked in acknowledgement.

~~~ Trav shook himself out of his reverie and glanced at his watch. He still had time to get back home and root around in his books. With a quick look in the mirror, he saw that Danny and Sam had left the dance floor, although the two big werewolves remained. He was sure he had some books on werewolves somewhere in the stacks of boxes. He suddenly needed to know more…much more. Looking across the bar, he caught Talon’s eye and threw him a small wave and smile, then headed for the door. Wolfsbane, wasn’t that almost as good as silver bullets for getting rid of pesky furballs?

Chapter Ten Danny stayed close to Sam as they walked through the heavy air of the New Orleans night. This close to the Mississippi River, the damp night air was thick enough to cut with knife. During the height of summer, it made taking a deep breath like trying to breathe underwater. Winters in the South were nothing if not unpredictable. Today’s temperature had hovered in the mid-seventies, giving an early preview of spring that had people out in droves enjoying the mild evening. Normally, the milder temperatures would make his light jacket tolerable. Tonight, the dancing and close-packed bodies had left him hot and sweaty, and the leather strap from his shoulder harness chafed. Sam hadn’t worn his own service revolver, but Danny was willing to bet money his back-up weapon was strapped securely into an ankle holster. Sam never went anywhere without that little piece. It had saved his life, once. The ever-present party atmosphere of the French Quarter washed over him as they walked through the crowded streets. Even during the slow season, the Quarter could feel crowded. People spilled from doorways carrying drinks in open containers, heads turning in every direction trying to see everything at once. There was always a lot to see…except maybe the oncoming vehicles. Tourists seemed to constantly forget this wasn’t an amusement park, and car versus man never worked out well for the human. It was why some of the one-way streets of the Vieux Carré were blocked to vehicular traffic during peak visitor hours. “Detective Garrett,” a sultry voice called. Sam stopped so abruptly that Danny took two more steps before he realized Sam wasn’t next to him anymore. “Sugar,” Sam said. Danny heard the smile layered in the deep voice that flowed like molasses. He bet Sam gave great phone sex…which

brought his mind right back around to how horny he was. Shaking his head at his errant thoughts, Danny looked at the woman flirting with Sam. She leaned in the doorway to one of the many clubs that lined this end of Bourbon Street. Long black hair was swept into an elaborate design on the back of her head, leaving her elegant neck looking vulnerable. Her fire engine red sequined gown and heavy stage make up enhanced her high cheekbones and lovely wide brown eyes. Even if she wasn’t Danny’s favorite flavor, he could admire her exotic beauty. She grazed her fingertips along Sam’s arm and they shared a smile that seemed too intimate for casual acquaintances. Danny eyed her speculatively. Did Sam play for both teams? And why did that bother him? “We don’t see you ‘round here much anymore. Wanna come inside? No cover for you and…” The woman raked Danny with a heated gaze that lingered on his crotch. Licking her lips, she moved away from Sam to stand close enough to Danny to touch. Her hand hovered a scant inch over his groin. “Damn, Sam…is his package as big as it looks? You been holding out on us? No wonder you want to keep him all to yourself.” Danny felt the first wave of heat that meant he might actually blush from the female attention, then narrowed his eyes and looked more closely. There was something about the shape of her jaw…shit…this wasn’t a woman. Brushing her hand aside, he grabbed Sam’s elbow and dragged him away, calling over his shoulder, “Nice to meet you, Sugar. Some other time, maybe.” Sam was laughing as they rounded the corner. Asshole. The climb up the outside stairs to Sam’s third floor apartment gave Danny the opportunity to admire Sam’s ass in an up-close-and-personal way, without being obvious. It really was a fine ass, especially in this dressed down blue jean mode. He loved a man in faded denim. He’d only been teasing Sam the other day when he’d talked about fucking once the case was closed…but after the last twenty-four hours, he could use a good fuck. His lips twitched at the memory of Sam’s face when the big werewolf had slipped a hand down his pants. He bet Sam was more than ready for a little relief. They could definitely help each other out. Friends with benefits.

Sam pushed open the door and stood back to let Danny pass. The place was as much of a well-appointed rat hole as ever. Wooden floors warped from decades of damp air and poor maintenance gave an incongruent backdrop to Sam’s sleek leather and teak furniture. Sam crossed to lower the shades on the two narrow windows, which made the compact two-room apartment even more claustrophobic. “Why do you still live in this shit hole?” he asked before his inner censor got control of his mouth. “I like living in the Quarter, but it’s damned expensive. When I was looking for a place, I found out really quickly that I could afford a nice apartment or nice furniture. I can ignore grey walls and creaking floors, but my ass needs comfort at the end of the day.” Sam moved into the cubicle that masqueraded as a kitchen. He lifted a bottle of single malt scotch in invitation. Danny nodded and moved to sit on the couch. Folders were lined up on the coffee table, each labeled with the name of one of their victims. They could drink to putting one case to bed tonight, even if it left three or four more open. “Anyway,” Sam continued as he carried the glasses to the couch and sat down next to Danny, “I’m only here for another month. The landlord wants to raise the rent when my lease is up. The old biddy figures I’m good for it since I’ve been here two years, but she’s wrong. It was always just a short term solution for me anyway, until I could save up some money.” “Where are you going to live? I think there’re some units in my apartment building…” Sam was already shaking his head. “Thanks, but no. I’m not into the big apartment complexes. I’ll find something else here in the Quarter. I’ve got a couple of leads.” Danny nodded, then sipped the scotch before he set the heavy glass on the coaster. “Where do you want to start?” “Let me show you what I’ve been thinking.” Sam moved the folders into four stacks. “I’m not presenting this in chronological order, because I don’t think the timing is most important, motive is. First, we have the murders of

these three vics.” He pointed to the folders for the one vamp and two humans that had been the reason they’d been assigned to the case in the first place. “The victims check out clean, no known criminal associates, nothing in common. The only real connections were the locations, the method of the murders, and the post-mortem removal of fangs. Plus the fact that the victims were engaged in activities on or next to crypts. There is zero indication the deaths were related to a feeding or other violent attack by a preternatural.” Sam swallowed hard. “Why isn’t Vinnie in that pile?” Danny knew the answer, but they were going through the cases the way they would need to present it to the commander tomorrow. “Vincent Jourdain is related to these murders, but the motive is different. They appear connected at first glance because of the location and manner of death, but the real connection is that Vinnie committed the cemetery murders.” “Proof?” Danny said, then took another long sip of his drink. “While searching victim Jourdain’s condo, we found evidence of his involvement in the other three murders, including the missing fangs—the implants and canine teeth. luminol revealed the presence of blood, not unexpected from a vampire. However, preliminary DNA testing and a partial fingerprint at the scene of the second murder have given us sufficient circumstantial evidence to recommend that these cases be considered Attributed barring the discovery of additional evidence to the contrary during subsequent investigation into Jourdain’s murder.” Sam sat back, tapping his finger on the first stack of folders. Danny nodded, pleased with the summary. Attributed should work for this case. It was part of a new category of Solved, available only to the Paranormal Criminal Investigations Unit, for crimes believed to have been committed by a preternatural being but for which there wasn’t sufficient proof for a court of law. In theory, it allowed families to attain some measure of closure. It also left the case in a state of legal limbo if the evidence necessary for a criminal trial was discovered later. There was no statute of limitations for murder.

Lifting Jourdain’s folder from the table, Danny took over the explanation. “At first glance, Vinnie appeared to be a victim of the same killer. However, as the investigation unfolded, we discovered proof of his involvement in the murders, as previously outlined.” “Framed?” Sam interjected. They knew they’d face that question. Danny outlined the evidence located in the safe deposit box, plus Vinnie’s long history as an enforcer with the Fontaine crime family prior to becoming undead. He finished with a quick recap. “There are several key differences in the crimes, including the force with which the stake entered Jourdain’s body. He was almost nailed to the ground – it took three techs to get the body loose. All of the teeth discovered at his place had partial or smeared prints except for Vinnie’s, which were wiped clean. Finally, the positioning of the body is not consistent with the earlier murders. It’s our best judgment that Jourdain committed the earlier murders and then was murdered himself by another preternatural, most likely a vampire who was aware of Jourdain’s involvement with the previous murders.” Sam sat back, sipped at his drink, his brow furrowed. “I think it works. We’ll have to answer a lot of questions, and I’m not entirely clear on the necessary evidence for a classification of Attributed, but it feels right.” He swallowed the last of his drink and stood, reaching for Danny’s empty glass. Danny packed the cases they’d already covered into the briefcase Sam had opened by the coffee table. He held the rest of the folders on his lap when Sam returned with the drinks. “What about these?” he asked uncertainly. “Yeah…what about those?” Sam asked, his voice a little distant. The way he said it made Danny think Sam had more to say. Probably something Danny might not want to hear…like maybe Sam was ready to return to regular police work. But Sam just sipped his drink, not meeting Danny’s gaze. He thought about the best way to get to what he wanted…which was for Sam to stick around and be his partner on the Odd Squad.

Danny began speaking, keeping his tone carefully neutral. “The first three murders we talked about felt random, as if Vinnie killed them because the victims pissed him off by being on the graves. We found nothing in their pasts that indicates any of them crossed paths with Jourdain or with any of his known associates. Plus, he made no attempt to cover anything up.” Danny paused to take a drink and noticed Sam’s glass was empty again. “These others…all we have are teeth. No bodies, nothing to show that the werewolves are actually dead. No one’s even been reported missing.” “Uh…actually…uhm…” Sam stood and went back to pour another splash of scotch in his glass. “Sam? What’s going on? I’ve never seen you so jumpy.” Did Sam suspect Danny was going to ask him to stay in the Odd Squad? Was that enough to make him this nervous? If so, his case of nerves wasn’t a good sign that he’d agree. Sam was probably looking for a way to let Danny down easy. “There’ve been some werewolves gone missing, they just haven’t been reported,” Sam said, his words coming out in a rush. Danny stared. “Werewolves missing? Not reported…but….how do you know?” “Russ told me. Last night. He said they weren’t the type of guys anyone would report as missing.” Blinking rapidly now, as if it would help him keep up with the shift in conversation, Danny asked another question. “Russ. Is he one of those two big wolves drooling over you at the club? Jesus, Sam. What the hell happened last night? For that matter, what the fuck were you doing at Fangs? It’s definitely not your kind of place. In fact…none of this is like you.” He waved his glass, meaning the dancing, the wolves, the nerves. With a sigh, Sam turned his back on Danny and walked to the window. He started to raise the window blind, then apparently thought better of it and just stood holding on to the wall, not meeting Danny’s gaze. “I went for a walk after work and ended up at Travis’s place. I was trying to put together all the pieces from that last night…from back before

the world went…” He stopped, as if the memory was too much and he needed a moment to pull himself back to the present. “Anyway, I went around and was standing in the courtyard and suddenly this guy—a vamp—was there. I didn’t hear him come up or anything, he was just fucking there. Blond, blue, early twenties, slim build, five-nine. Nothing to cause alarm. Except, I know we spoke, but I don’t remember much else.” Danny jumped to his feet, the folders spilling unheeded to the floor. Sam warned him off with a raised hand. “Let me finish. I’m okay, he didn’t bite me or anything. But only because a female werewolf named Celeste intervened. She didn’t fight him, just sort of stepped up like she knew me and walked me away from him. There were some other guys from the pack waiting and they took me to Fangs. Russ is the Alpha…but I guess you already know that. It just all brought home how fucking out of touch I’ve been the last few years. As if by calling them all ‘not-normals’ I could make them less than human, not worthy of my attention or my protection. What a fucking pathetic excuse for a cop I’ve been.” His voice dropped to a near whisper. “It happened so fast. It must have been just like it happened to Trav. Only I blamed him. I blamed Trav for not fighting hard enough, for not getting away. For leaving me alone out there. I didn’t fucking understand. Not until last night, when I would have just stood there and let that fucking vampire…fucking Henri du Champ make a meal out of me.” Danny ignored Sam’s protests and stepped in behind him, reaching out and turning him around to grab his jaw, forcing him to look up into his eyes. “Sam, I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through, but I can tell you this. Travis doesn’t blame you for anything that happened. If it was du Champ that was after you last night, you’re lucky to be alive.” He paused to make sure Sam was listening and softened his tone. “You’re right. The same thing did happen to Travis, only there wasn’t anyone there to help save him from that fucker. He knows you didn’t understand.” He emphasized each word, trying to get through Sam’s guilt. “Travis. Doesn’t. Blame. You.” He saw the pain and shame flare in Sam’s eyes and an understanding begin to bloom. From his words earlier, Danny knew Sam was already

searching for a way to forgive not only himself for the events of the past two years, but also to forgive Travis for something completely out of his control. His friend had a lot to think about, but Danny thought Sam was on the right track. Leaning in, his gaze never leaving Sam’s face, Danny kissed him lightly. He felt the hesitation then the surrender. Sam’s lips parted and Danny dove in, letting his tongue invade and explore. He wrapped his arms around Sam and felt the man’s body relax, then he was pulled closer. The fire that had been between them earlier at Fangs came back with a vengeance, and his passion roared to life. He pulled Sam’s arms loose from their rough embrace and slammed the two of them against the wall. Holding Sam with his superior size, he gripped Sam’s wrists in one of his hands and pinned his arms over his head demanding complete surrender. Never breaking the kiss, he shoved his aching cock against Sam’s abs, swallowing the sharp exhalation of breath into their kiss. The slow grind of the narrow hips against his own had Danny’s switch flipped. He needed Sam under him. Now. Pulling his mouth away, he growled, “Sam, tell me you keep the lube and rubbers in the same place.” At the silent nod, he released Sam’s wrists and shoved him towards the bedroom. Sam stumbled, but yanked his shirt over his head and almost ran towards the king-sized bed. Admiring the tight, sculpted muscles of Sam’s back, Danny wanted him completely naked so he could get at the real prize. Normally a versatile lover, something about the way Sam occasionally enjoyed being tossed around and taken called to Danny’s more dominant side. Standing in the doorway, he watched as Sam stripped, bending over to pull his jeans down and off. Just fucking beautiful. Danny unbuttoned his shirt and flung it near Sam’s, his own jeans and boxer briefs following within seconds. By the time Sam leaned across the bed to dig in the nightstand for supplies, Danny was ready. He knelt astride Sam, draping his body across all that hot, sexy mocha skin. Completely covering him, he slid his hard cock along the crease of Sam’s ass, bumping against the smooth balls. Sam’s groan made him burn, and he reached to tug one of the rings piercing Sam’s tight little nipples.

“I hope you don’t mind rough and hard tonight, because I can’t hold back. You got a problem with that, Sammy?” Sam just shook his head and arched his back, thrusting his ass up and against Danny’s dick. Danny forced Sam back down onto the bed. He needed to calm his own fucking ass down or he might just push himself into Sam right now, taking him raw…marking him with his mouth and his load. The thought of his cum dripping out of Sam made him shudder. Briefly, Danny closed his eyes, then with a deep breath, made himself reach for the condom. “Don’t move.” He lifted off Sam’s back, grabbing the rubber and lube. With his knees on either side of that firm, inviting ass, he quickly tore the package open and rolled the condom down the length of his erection. His cock throbbed, and he fought a nearly irresistible urge to push his way in. He really didn’t want to hurt Sam. He was big and Sam was so tight and…he forced himself to pop the lid on the lube. The sound made Sam twitch, and when he drizzled a fine line of the cold slick between Sam’s ass cheeks, Danny let out a low chuckle at the gooseflesh that pebbled Sam’s back. Roughly shoving two fingers inside him to provide some lubrication, Danny’s cock twitched as Sam leaned forward on his elbows, spreading his knees and his cheeks, forcing Danny to widen his stance. Quickly squeezing another gob from the bottle onto his own shaft, Danny stroked his length then positioned himself at Sam’s hole with one hand. He kept the other hand firmly on Sam’s lower back, pinning him in place. One hard push to force the muscles open and he was inside. He waited a moment for Sam to catch his breath then pushed his entire length into him. Bottoming out, he moved his hand off Sam’s back and lay down, chest to back. One hand snaked under Sam’s head, forcing him to turn and look back at Danny. “I remember how you like it. I’ll take care of you, don’t worry.” He dropped his mouth to Sam’s and took him in a wet, sloppy kiss. Danny rose up, pulling almost completely out of Sam before snapping his hips and taking him again. Then again and again as Sam surrendered, relaxing his muscles and moaning harsh grunts of pain and pleasure into

Danny’s mouth. He began pounding harder into Sam, moving his mouth to the back of Sam’s neck, licking, biting…marking him. He wanted in deeper, and he wanted to make sure Sam wasn’t forgotten. The pleasure of being inside Sam again almost forced him over, but he knew this dance and pulled himself back from the edge. Easing back, he pulled Sam to his knees, never letting his cock slip completely out. He slowly changed angles, sliding in and out until Sam moaned and shook around him. Bingo. Holding his hips so tightly he knew there would be bruises the next day, Danny pounded the hot spot again and again, grazing the head of his cock against that little bundle of nerves inside Sam. Reaching under and stroking Sam’s leaking shaft slowly, he was surprised to find the little fucker had added another piercing to his collection. He let his index finger knock against the small gauge ring on Sam’s thick mushroom head and slid his other hand up his back and around, finding one of the small piercings in his nipples. Tugging harshly, he tightened his grip on Sam’s shaft and stroked him hard. “Fuck, Danny,” Sam shouted, “I’m so goddamn close. Please, man, please fucking do it.” Increasing his pace, the wet slapping sound of his balls against Sam’s combined with the grunts and gasps each man made filled the tight space of the room. He chased the orgasm slowly brewing in his tailbone, the electric fingers grabbing his balls and tugging him closer to the tipping point. Danny bent over and locked his mouth against Sam’s shoulder, sucking and biting up another mark. That seemed to be the trigger Sam needed, and with a howl, he lost himself to his orgasm. Thick ropes of pearly white cum splattered the sheets, and his ass muscles clenched like a vise on Danny’s shaft. That was all it took for Danny. Shouting his pleasure into Sam’s shoulder, he filled the condom with his load. His fingers still gripped Sam’s nipple ring, and after he came back to himself, he slowly released his death-grip on the man’s softening cock. Sam collapsed belly first, into the wetness of the sheets, and Danny fell with him, still buried in his ass. They both panted, the frantic need sated for the moment.

Danny finally chuckled and rolled off Sam’s back, reaching down to make sure the condom stayed on as he eased out of Sam. The sharp intake of air as he slid out and the shiver that he could see move like a wave up Sam’s spine made him grin in satisfaction. Twisting the condom and tying it off, he dropped it on the floor and reached over to slap Sam’s ass then flopped on his back. The glare he got from Sam made him laugh again, and even Sam couldn’t keep up the pretense. “Fucker,” Sam said, rolling off the bed and heading to the bathroom. “Give me a few minutes and maybe,” he called. Danny heard some smart-ass remark flung back over Sam’s shoulder, but closed his eyes and relaxed instead of snarking a reply. He barely noticed when Sam turned off the lights and slipped into bed with him, pulling the sheet over them both. As sleep overtook him, he felt Sam’s arm wrap over his stomach and his head snuggled into the hollow of his shoulder.

* Danny woke slowly, keeping his eyes closed against the bright light that told him he’d slept later than he’d intended. He reached for Sam, then noticed the lack of body heat before he fully registered he was in bed alone. He opened his eyes, and started to smile at the sight of Sam sitting in the chair next to the bed, watching him. When he saw the man’s hooded eyes and closed expression, he felt the smile slide off his face. “You fucking let Travis bite you?” Well, hell.

Chapter Eleven Sam ran his hand over his scalp, enjoying the smooth feel under his palm. He finished shaving his face then stepped into a shower as hot as he could stand it. For a minute, the ache in his ass made him smile. Goddamn but Danny could fuck. Then he remembered the telltale bite marks in the early morning light. Jesus. Danny had let Travis feed from him. Had given fucking Travis Boudreaux blood. He closed his eyes as the hot water streamed over him and tried to imagine what that would feel like. Travis with his lips on his neck, licking, sucking, his teeth piercing him. He wanted to feel sick, to be disgusted by what Danny had let happen. So why was the sick feeling in his stomach more like jealousy than revulsion? And why the fuck was his dick getting hard? God, he was such an ass. He turned the water off, far more disgusted with himself than with anything Travis and Danny might have done. He wouldn’t allow himself the pleasure of a quick hand job tonight. He had places to go and apologies to make. He dressed quickly and replayed the scene at the precinct. It had been a damn long and awkward day working side by side with Burkette while they waited for the commander to clear her schedule to meet with them. They were both frazzled and a whole lot tired after the scene he made after seeing Danny's bite mark, but if Commander Kincaid noticed any tension between them, she refrained from commenting. She was a political appointee, not a rank and file cop, and a week ago Sam had been convinced she was totally useless. But then again, he’d thought the Odd Squad useless, too. The commander had asked good questions during the debriefing and concurred with their finding of murder attributed to Vincent Jourdain and the provisional closing of the case.

After the presentation of their initial case, Commander Kincaid had leaned forward in her chair and tapped her well-manicured nails against the file folder containing their report. “Detective Garrett, I’m sorry about what happened to your partner, and I’m sure as hell sorry he tried to attack you at his funeral. Now that the apology is out of the way, you need to hear something. People have been pussyfooting around your sorry ass for the last two years, afraid to upset you.” Danny had leaned forward as if to interrupt, but without turning her head, she’d snapped, “Shut up, Burkette. I’m talking to Garrett. You think I don’t know what the rank and file say about me? I’m a female political appointee…sure, I know. So what? I’ve got a job to do. My job is to make sure the preternaturals in our part of the world don’t fuck up the status quo. The governor wants the cases marked closed so when Mr. and Mrs. Joe Blow from upstate New York want to visit New Orleans, we have a nice low crime rate and a high solve rate. “ Sam hadn’t been able to look away from her. He thought maybe she was the first person at work to cut through the bullshit in a damned long time. “Why are you telling me this?” he’d asked. Her slow cat-like smile reached all the way to her eyes and he’d smiled in return without knowing why. “Because, Detective Garrett, I want you to come work for us permanently. Think you’ve got the balls for that?” And just like that, he’d been transferred to the Odd Squad… So that’s what tonight was all about. Dusting off the final dregs of his old life. He was going to do what he should have done a year ago. Two years. He was going to tell Travis that he was sorry, that he forgave him, and then he was going to forgive himself. Sam dressed lightly but grabbed his jacket just in case. The walk over to Travis’s house should keep him warm. He shoved his wallet in his jeans pocket, grabbed his keys and locked up. He’d been a cop long enough to know automatically to check his surroundings. The crowds were light tonight. Mondays usually were— most folks were hung over from the weekend, tired after a day back at the office. And the tourists were either in the bars celebrating their visit to the

city or downtown safely tucked in for the night. It was early, he guessed, for the preternatural creatures to be out and about. Bars like Fangs catered to a twenty-four-seven crowd, but with the fangbangers in the city, the vamps would be well-fed before too much longer. The werewolves. He wondered about them. Did most have day jobs? What did they do to fill their daytime hours? What did Russ do? And Jet? He shivered as he remembered the feel of those two big, warm bodies pressed against him. The desire to be taken by both of them at once brought a flush to his face, and he pressed his hands into his jacket pockets a little deeper and forced himself to keep moving.

**** “Alpha, Sam has left his building and is heading deeper into the Quarter toward Travis Boudreaux’s home. Shall I continue to follow?” Russ ran a hand through his thick locks and looked at Jet. He knew Jet could hear the conversation through the phone—all wolves had extraordinary hearing in both forms. It was just polite manners not to advertise the fact. And Jet was nothing if not polite to his Alpha. Most of the time, Russ thought, a wry smile on his face. He raised an eyebrow to his Beta, asking for his opinion. That, evidently, was all the man was waiting for. “We’re closer, ourselves. We can take over monitoring the situation. I very seriously doubt du Champ or Fontaine will make a move on him. At least not this soon.” Russ considered a moment. “Eric, you are relieved. He should be within our perimeter within moments. Keep an eye out but you go back to the den and eat dinner.” “Thank you, Alpha,” the young man said and disconnected the call. Signaling for the bill, Russ flashed a grin at Jet, who gave him a disapproving look. “You spoil the boy. He isn’t off duty for another”—Jet glanced at his watch— “fifteen minutes.” Russ boomed laughter, earning him another frown. “Relax, Jet. If it makes you feel better, you go ahead and pick up the visual while I pay the bill. I’ll be there in two shakes.”

Jet was out of the booth and headed to the door before Russ finished his sentence. He shook his head, smiling. There was a reason Jet was the enforcer for the pack. Now where the hell was that waiter?

**** Jet knew he was probably overreacting, but something about the situation had the hair on the nape of his neck prickling. Under normal circumstances, Jet would never have left his Alpha unguarded for even a moment, but the unprecedented disappearances of wolves and rumors of humans missing from the streets spoke to him of things best not ignored. Jet’s eyes constantly darted from shadow to light, left then right. He never ignored above either. Vamps, especially older ones, could attack in a second from any direction. Even a strong wolf could be taken out by such an attack, as Jet knew only too well. The lessons he learned stuck. There would be no further loss of life under his watch, if he could help it. And there it was. The shadow that didn’t fit, flickering across the rooftop a block down. Jet took off at a run, praying he wouldn’t be too late. Russ would follow his scent and provide backup, if needed.

**** Excellent. Sofia could see her prey directly ahead, and that troublesome little wolf that’d been following her target had turned down one of the side alleys. A slow smile curved her lips and she ran a tongue over her fangs in anticipation of the kill. The detective would be without his protection long enough for her to complete her task. The buildings here were lovely, very reminiscent of her home in France. Those homes and shops were haphazardly placed and decorated, with the rough textures and vivid colors she so preferred. At night, they hid creatures like her so very well. And most humans never thought to look up for threats. There were so many at ground level, the silly little fragile things. She was still young enough that taking to the rooftops

required some effort, but as she acquired skills, her life expectancy as a vampire rose every year. It was almost a pity to take this man out. He was fine looking, but she had an assignment, and the price of failure to her employer was not one she particularly relished. Her orders had been clear…first, attempt to isolate the detective but if she could not lure him away, then she was to take him herself. She had seen the punishment for vampires who had failed to follow orders…staked out for the sun to kiss. The burning end was a most effective method to eliminate vampires who were under one hundred, and it did not appeal to her in the least. She would wait until the man stepped out from under the next streetlight, back into partial darkness, then she would feed. He would be quite tasty, with that creamy dark skin.

**** “So the cases are closed. And they really let you use that bullshit term…attributable?” Travis poured the now-warm blood into his mug, stopping at the fridge to pull a beer out for Danny. When he’d knocked on Trav’s door shortly after he awoke for the night, Danny had a six-pack of beer in his hands and a half-hearted smile on his face. He’d apologized, knowing Trav couldn‘t drink the beer, Danny had said he needed someone to talk to. Inwardly sighing, he’d stepped aside and let the big detective come inside. Twisting off the cap on his third beer, Danny nodded. “The theory behind it is sound. If we can tie enough physical evidence of a crime to a suspect, it can save a lot of wasted time and resources. We know we aren’t going to solve every one of the preternatural crimes—there isn’t enough trust between law enforcement and the covens and packs yet to let the new laws operate like they should. Especially not with the rules prohibiting actual supers from serving in law enforcement positions.” He took a swig from the bottle, then continued. “But the political reality is, the law keeps the solved rate up and the governor happy.” Travis joined him on the couch. “Tourism.”

Danny nodded. “Gotta keep those dollars rolling in. Katrina is over in all of our minds, but Joe Public out there in East Bumfuck Egypt would just as soon take their dollars somewhere safer, given one more reason to.” Travis nodded and took a sip from his mug. He could tell Danny was dancing around another topic and he figured he knew what it was. The bite. Well, he’d just have to bring it up himself. Trav had no intention of revisiting that subject, now or ever. Danny surprised him with the next words out of his mouth, though. “Sam’s now a permanent member of the team.” Slowly, he glanced up at Danny, who sat with a determined look on his face. Sam? Working on the Odd Squad? With werewolves, Fae, witches…and vamps? He couldn’t see that particular assignment working. The skepticism must have shown on his face, because Danny smiled suddenly and relaxed. Maybe he’d been expecting anger? “The commander told him herself. And wasn’t that a fun meeting?” He grinned and took another drink from his beer. “But Trav, I think it actually might work. Sam–” Trav heard it first and was on his feet, headed for the stairs, before Danny could get there. A scuffle and the sound of a man crying out then a horrible howl. Travis was down the two flights and out the door before Danny was around the first corner, and what he saw nearly paralyzed him.

**** Sam should have been watching. Goddamn it—he knew better, but he’d been too busy trying to frame the perfect opening sentence. Something eloquent and wise and so very un-Sam-like. He didn’t even feel the first attack. Slowing slightly, he’d stepped into the slight darkness three doors down from Travis’s home. There was a whoosh of wind, the feeling of something brushing him, then a cold, wet feeling against his neck. He wasn’t sure if the noise he made was out loud or just in his head…and how the fuck did he land on his back on the ground? When a

beautiful woman’s face appeared over him, he wondered, just for a moment, if she might be an angel. Until he saw the teeth. “Ah, mon cher, such a pretty boy. Nothing personal, oiu?” she crooned, then leaned down to lick at his neck. He was already lightheaded, and the coldness that was on his neck suddenly became a razor sharp pain. He looked at his hand, which had been at his neck a moment earlier and saw it covered with blood. Ah hell. I will never get to tell Trav I’m sorry. He heard a howl, like the devil’s own hounds, and thought maybe they were coming for him, too. A stark black blur crossed his field of vision and suddenly the soft lovely voice of the vamp was screaming and horrible tearing sounds came from just feet away. He closed his eyes, just for a moment, and when he opened them again, familiar faces were looking down at him. Danny. What a fine partner and a really good friend. He trusted him like no one else and wished he could take back the rough words they’d had this morning. He tried to smile to let him know he was sorry. Russ. Well, he wasn’t exactly a friend, but he could have been. Missed hitting the sheets with that one…he must have been a very bad boy in another life. Ah, the random thought crossed his now-fuzzy mind that the blur of black who pulled that bitch off his neck must have been Jet. He tried to wink, but was really too tired. And besides, he needed to try, one last time, to tell his friend how he felt before he was gone. He was under no illusions, he could feel the cold settling in his bones and the slow draining of his life through the hole in his neck. The hole that Travis was frantically trying to hold together with his hands. He saw the struggle the man had in his eyes. The blood must be calling to him and yet he was practically wrist deep in Sam’s essence, his concern winning out over hunger. He tried to communicate the regret he felt for the lost two years, laying his own hand on top of Trav’s one last time. He hoped it was a smile on his face—he needed Trav to understand. Please, forgive me.

As he closed his eyes for what he was sure would be the last time, he heard Danny’s voice cut through the night. “Wolf or vamp? Decide. It has to be now.”

~~Finis~~

About the Authors L.E. Harner Laura likes it hot, which helps explain why she ended up Arizona after living in such diverse places as Japan, New Orleans, Maine, and Florida. She shares her home with an ever revolving cast of characters, some of whom are actually real. Laura writes under the names L.E. Harner, for her M/M and M/M/F titles and Laura Harner for her M/F books. She can be found at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, All Romance eBooks, and other online retailers. Connect with Laura at: Twitter: http://twitter.com/lauraharner Facebook: http://facebook.com/lauraharner Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/LauraHarner Website http://LauraHarner.com/

T.A. Webb T.A. Webb is the writing name for the Big Old Bear That Could (credit to Thomas the Train). During the day, I'm the Director of Finance for a non-profit agency in Atlanta providing housing assistance to people living with HIV/AIDS. At night, I’m the proud daddy to four rescue dogs, live in the suburbs of Atlanta, Georgia, and in my spare time am a pretty darn good country cook. I stumbled on male erotic fiction and romance about two years ago when a search for "gay cowboys" on my Kindle brought up a plethora of fun titles. I bought one and the rest, as they say, is history. In November 2011, I started "A Bear on Books", a blog dedicated to reviews of books from the M/M genre that touched me in some way. My

goal is to highlight the wonderful writers and stories in the genre in a positive and supportive manner. After making friends with some of the crazy fun people in the genre, I was gently encouraged (ha!) to try my hand at writing. They pushed me to submit the result, and my novel "Second Chances" will be published in November 2012 by Dreamspinner Press. To reach me, please email [email protected], visit me on Facebook at www.facebook.com/twebb7813, tweet me on Twitter @TomBearAtl, or visit my blog at www.tom-webb.blogspot.com.

Also from these Authors Coming Soon T.A. Webb from Dreamspinner Press Second Chances Mark Jennings is wound up tightly. His finance job in the Atlanta nonprofit scene is stressing him out, his mother is dying, and his relationship with Brian Jacobs has crashed and burned. What he needs is a distraction and a way to relax. A massage. Antonio Roberto is divorced, a father, and an excellent masseur. Despite their differences, the two men forge a friendship that weathers Mark’s reconciliation with Brian and Antonio’s less than stellar taste in women. When a young boy runs away from the group home where Mark works, it sets off a series of events with consequences none of them can foresee. Over the years Mark learns about choosing your family, about friends and lovers, about life and death. Most important of all, he realizes that sometimes the greatest gift of all is a second chance.

Other L.E. Harner Titles Now Available Altered States Prequel to Deep Blues Goodbye New Orleans Police Detective Sam Garrett can't believe his bad luck when he's assigned to investigate a string of gay-bashings turned deadly

in the French Quarter. Especially when he realizes Travis Boudreaux, his new, hot, and most-likely-straight partner, plans to use him as bait. The worst part? They’ve got no back-up because the rest of the city is preoccupied by another series of killings—the victims drained of blood.

~*~ Ty Hard, Book One of the Willow Spring Ranch Series Tyler has used Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell as a shield against the truth since he was seventeen. Cut loose from his Navy career and mourning his mentor’s death, Ty must come to terms with his desire for another man, even while he fights to keep his PTSD from pulling him under. Rancher Cass Cartwright’s relationships never last more than a few hours, and that’s just the way he likes it. Now he's done the one thing he swore never to do: fallen in love. Can Cass convince Ty to let go of his past or will sabotage at the ranch kill their love before it has a chance to grow?