Shameless

Shameless Shadow Dwellers: Book Three by J.C. Wilder

ISBN 1-55316-078-9 Published by LTDBooks www.ltdbooks.com

Copyright © 2000 Lisa Hamilton Previously published by Dreams Unlimited.

Poem, "The Cat" Copyright 1999 Lynne den Hartog-Smith. Reprinted with permission. Cover Art by Emily Black Cover Art copyright © 2001 Published in Canada by LTDBooks, 200 North Service Road West, Unit 1, Suite 301, Oakville, ON L6M 2Y1 [www.ltdbooks.com] All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher is an infringement of the copyright law. National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data Wilder, J. C., 1965Shameless [computer file] ISBN 1-55316-078-9 (electronic) ISBN 1-55316-921-2 (REB 1100 1200) I. Title.

PS3623.I45S44 2001 813.6 C2001-902070-8

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

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

Chapter 1 Boulder, Colorado "You aresuch a liar!" Erihn blinked at the intrusion of Vivian's strident tone. She looked up from the book in her lap in time to see Jennifer shake her dark head. "Vivian, I am truly a fraud." Jennifer sighed dramatically, amusement lurking in the depths of her blue eyes. Vivian snorted, "All those stories..." She waved a glittering, ring-covered hand in Erihn's direction. "I thought she was the fiction writer." She pointed at Jennifer. "You're the journalist and your stories should

be based on fact." "Wasa journalist." Melanie raised her champagne glass in the air to signal the waitress. "She quit her job." Vivian's perfectly shaped brow arched. "You did?" Jennifer nodded. "About a month ago. I decided it was time for a change." "Oh, what I would do for a life of leisure," Melanie sighed. "I'd never get out of bed, and I'd hire a fleet of men to attend to my every need." "What would your husband say about that?" Vivian asked. "Nothing complimentary, I'd wager," Melanie smirked. "That's rich coming from Little Miss My-Last-Movie-Grossed-Seventy- Million," Jennifer shot back. "What do you do, work about four months out of the year?" "I have to workout every day to keep this figure," Melanie protested. "It's hard work!" "Yeah, with a personal trainer, masseuse, and a full entourage of assistants," Vivian teased. "You probably hire someone to sweat for you." Melanie glared at Vivian. "You have a personal assistant." "Well, itis so hard to keep straight all those lunch dates, cocktail parties and secret assignations." Jennifer winked at Erihn. "I do more than just flit around to lunch dates and cocktail parties." Vivian scowled at Jennifer. "I do very important things with my life." "Like your nails?" Melanie snickered. "I think you're parasites, every last one of you." Erihn interjected with a grin. "I'm the only one here with a real job." "Romance writing is a job?" Vivian laughed. "Don't you just sit around and eat bonbons all day while cover models do your every bidding?" "Maybe I need to add that clause to my contract..." Melanie mused. Erihn snorted with laughter. "No, I sit hunched over a computer for hours until my entire body aches and I want to cry. I stumble around in a haze because characters are talking in my head and I can't concentrate on anything else. As for bonbons..." She shook her head. "There are days I'm lucky to have that much in the house because I forget to go to the grocery store. On the rare occasion when I do manage to get out the door, I usually forget what I went there to buy." "You're the one who needs a personal assistant," Jennifer said. "Not on your life," Erihn denounced. "What would I do with a PA? They'd be terribly bored with my dull little life."

"I can give you a few ideas..." Vivian drawled. "NO!" The three women shouted in unison, drawing the curious looks of patrons at the tables nearest to them. "Really," Vivian sniffed. She jabbed her finger in Jennifer's direction. "That doesn't get you off the hook, young lady. Lying to your friends and telling wild stories." She shook her ebony head. "Is this how you pay us back for years of undying friendship, pounds of Swiss chocolates, and listening to your three A.M. phone dramas?" "I've never called you at three A.M.," Jennifer objected. "That's Melanie, she can never remember what time zone she's in." Melanie nodded, "True..." Jennifer leaned against the arm of the couch. "I didn't know how to tell you guys about Mac." She squirmed, fixing her gaze on the tips of her sandals. "It was complicated." Melanie leaned forward and patted her on the knee. "I think it's terribly romantic." "Oh, really," Vivian snorted, rolling her eyes in disgust. Shai arrived and energetically dropped onto the low-slung couch between Erihn and Jennifer. "Who are you castigating this time?" she asked Vivian. "Jennifer. She lied about her supposed lovers and, all the while, she was pining away for one man." Melanie swooned dramatically, waving her hand in front of her face as if she were flushed. "You're never going to win an Oscar with that style of overacting," Jennifer glowered. "Prima Donna..." "Shrew," Melanie shot back. "I think it's romantic," Erihn interrupted. "And I'm glad you waited for him." Vivian rolled her eyes. "What's so romantic about waiting for one man to come and take you away from all this?" She waved her hand vaguely to encompass the interior of the coffeehouse. "I say go out, grab him and do it quick before you dry up and wither away." "We know how you feel, Viv." Melanie leaned forward to pick up the champagne bottle from the ice bucket. "Well, I did get him...in the end anyway," Jennifer answered, a secret smile playing across her mouth. "Boy, did she ever," Shai snickered. Erihn turned to look at Shai in disbelief. Whatever had happened to her shy, retiring friend? The Shai who'd dressed in baggy clothing and ducked her head when someone looked at her sideways was now dressed in a body-skimming emerald green silk cat suit and a sheer ebony shirt with her normally unruly red hair caught up in a complicated twist. She looked sleek and sophisticated, confident. She certainly looked nothing like the wallflower she'd been a few years ago.

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

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

she wasn't about to repeat a past mistake. Her hand trembled as she raised the glass to her lips. She took a large gulp of the icy liquid to give herself time to gather her errant emotions. "I'm not afraid," she lied. "I simply like my life..." "You're afraid, and that's okay," Jennifer interrupted. "It's okay to be scared. We just need to find you a nice, refined gentleman who'll worship you..." "Boring." Vivian sighed and Jennifer shot her a dark glance. "And take care of you." Melanie raised her glass in Erihn's direction as if to salute. "Buy you flowers." Shai grinned. "Buy you jewels," Vivian added. "Take you out for long romantic walks," Melanie sighed. "I remember romantic walks..." "Hold your hand in the rain," Shai said. "Give you long, soulful kisses that make your toes curl..." Jennifer raised her hand to her lips, her expression dreamy. "And fuck your brains out on occasion," Vivian added dryly. Erihn couldn't prevent the laugh that escaped her. Vivian had a one-track mind, which was fine with her. She got some of her best fantasy material for her novels from Vivian's conquests and tall tales. Vivian's sexual appetites were legendary among the five friends. Shai hugged her again. "Don't worry, darling, we have everything well in hand and it won't hurt a bit." "Unless you're lucky," Vivian purred. Shai rolled her eyes at Vivian, then turned to Erihn. She pointed to the book in Erihn's lap. "What do you think of your birthday present?" Erihn set her glass down and rubbed her hand over the worn leather binding. It was a first edition of Emily Brönte'sWuthering Heights . She'd never imagined touching a copy, let alone owning one. "It's lovely. I don't know what to say other than I'll treasure it always." "Val was tickled to death when he found it tucked in the back of a dusty little antique bookshop in Hay-on-Wye in Wales. On a bottom shelf behind a box of tattered Victorian erotica lay this little gem. He was quite dirty by the time he'd retrieved it, and when I walked into the room, he was sitting on the floor, grinning like a loon with this book in his hands." Erihn hugged the book to her chest; a tiny thrill of possession ran through her. "I must call and thank him..." "No need. He'll be here shortly." Jennifer picked up her glass of champagne. "He and Mac are escorting

us to dinner tonight." "Only two of them?" Melanie laughed. "Do you think they can keep up?" Vivian slanted a wicked grin at the blonde. "I have no doubt they can." She turned her gaze to Erihn. "But the question is..." She leaned forward, her eyes bright with curiosity. "Will you go up there and recite a poem?" She nodded toward the tiny stage at the front of the coffeehouse. Erihn looked across the crowded room to the stage at the far end. The Brew House was one of the most popular spots in Boulder. Half of the building was a coffeehouse, while the other half was a microbrewery. Well-dressed patrons sat at café-style tables or relaxed in cozy clusters of couches and overstuffed chairs. At the far end was a stage used for musical performers or literary readings, and Sunday night was amateur poet night. A variety of colored lights transformed the stage into a kaleidoscope of motion. A small woman dressed in a swirling rainbow of a skirt stood in a narrow spotlight of white. The light turned her blonde hair to white, giving her an angelic look that clashed with the vibrant skirt. She undulated her hips as if she were swimming. "Not like that." Erihn shook her head, enjoying the floating feeling caused by the champagne. "Never like that..." "She is a bit..." Shai hesitated. "Over the top?" "Poseidon!" The blonde woman shrieked, her body taut as if she'd been struck with a jolt of electricity. Gracefully, she collapsed to the stage in a rainbow swirl and the crash of silver bracelets. Melanie twisted in her chair to look at the stage. Her expression turned confused. "Is that what they call performance art?" "Dementia is more like it," Shai commented. The waitress appeared with another bottle of champagne in a glass ice bucket. With a flourish, she set it on the low table. "Here you are, ladies, compliments of the gentleman at the bar." Erihn looked over Melanie's head into the other half of The Brew House. Shai's lover, Val, was leaning against the bar. As he caught her gaze, he smiled then lifted his hand in a quick salute. Warmth blossomed in her chest at the sight of him as an answering smile curved her lips. Val was a wonderful man, if a bit intimidating to look upon. At just over six feet in height with a muscular build, he easily evoked a woman's darkest fantasies. He was incredibly handsome with his raven hair and dark blue eyes - almost overpowering in his intensity. At first, she'd been uncomfortable around his blatant masculinity, but she was soon cured of that. He was such a good friend to her, and he worshipped Shai to distraction. His devotion to her best friend went a long way toward making her feel at ease with him. "You've just got to love that man," Vivian announced as she waved in Val's direction. "No dear,I have to love that man. You're only allowed to drool from afar," Shai teased. "If you get too close, I'll cut off your claws."

Erihn cast a glance at Shai just in time to see her smile provocatively at her lover. She hoped Shai never realized that she'd modeled her latest hero loosely on Val. She'd be mortified if they ever figured it out, and she'd never be able to look either one of them in the eye again. Erihn smiled. Val was such perfect hero material. "So, Erihn," Jennifer startled her from her musing. "Tell us about your latest release. Where did you get this intriguing idea for your hero?" Her eyes glinted with undisguised mirth as she leaned forward to liberate the new bottle of champagne from the ice. "Ohhh," Melanie gushed. "I justloved this book. Brand is so dreamy and so hot. My husband and I took turns reading various passages to one another." Erihn's cheeks heated. "I wasn't aware I was writing a sex manual, Melanie." "Page one seventy-two was positively steamy..." Melanie purred. "Did you act those scenes out?" Vivian demanded. "Do give me his name, I'd love to meet your research subject." Shai laughed and stretched lazily. "I haven't had time to readVelvet Lover yet. Tell me what it's about." "Well, actually, I got the idea from a book in Val's library. All of you know I did some research there early last year, and I was looking for some specific information. I was going to do a historical based in a Turkish harem when I came across a little book on metallurgy tucked behind some dusty tomes." Erihn shook her head. "I wasn't sure if I should use the book, but Val said anything in the library was available, so I read it. It was a fictional diary of sorts and it was just fascinating." "A what?" Shai frowned in confusion. "A little handwritten tome about a fictional creature, but it was written as if the author were that creature. Sort of like a monologue of daily life and information on the lineage. Most of it read like stereo instructions; out of order and confusing." "I don't recall seeing anything like that in the library. Of course, there are thousands of books there and I haven't gone through them all." Shai frowned. "What kind of creature was this book about?" "He's a fabulous creature," Melanie broke in. Vivian nodded, waving her glass dangerously, "Stunning, truly." "Such stamina..." Melanie sighed. "Very inventive..." Vivian grinned. "A were-cat," Jennifer deadpanned. Shai blinked. Though she hid her shock well, Erihn caught a glimpse of her stunned expression before she hastily masked it. "A were-cat is..." Erihn began.

Shai waved her hand. "I know what a were-cat is. Your new hero-the one everyone is raving about-is a... were-cat?" "Well, sort of," Erihn began. "Sort of nothing," Melanie interrupted. "He's the hero to end all heroes." "He's pretty spectacular," Jennifer nodded. "A were-cat?" Shai looked appalled. "What's the problem?" Erihn laid a hand on her friend's arm. "Val said it was okay to use anything from the library." "I'm sure it's fine. I was a bit startled. I never knew this book existed." Shai's expression turned thoughtful. "So, tell me about these were-cats." "Well, they normally appear in human form as normal as you and I. As the full moon approaches, they spend more time in their catlike form. They gather energy from this form and it gives them certain... powers." Erihn paused, unsure of how to proceed. Jennifer's eyes gleamed with suppressed laughter. "That's an inventive way of describing it." Vivian slanted a sideways glance at Erihn, her expression encouraging. "Go on." Erihn colored furiously then glared at Vivian, unable to speak. It was one thing to write about The Act, it was something else to actually speak of it in public, even if she was with her dearest friends. "They're... How would you say..." Melanie paused; the tension grew as she waited until everyone was leaning forward to catch her next word. "Well- endowed." "And then some," Vivian breathed. "Energetic?" Shai queried. "Like rabbits," Vivian drew out the "r" as she gave Shai a knowing look. Silence. Erihn squirmed as Vivian and Melanie broke into peals of laughter. Jennifer shot her a warm look. "It's a good book, little mouse. For a fantasy." "You don't think were-cats exist?" Shai gave Jennifer an arch look, a smile curving her full lips. "Honey," Vivian broke in. "If were-cats did exist, I'd be the first to know." Erihn smiled. "Boy, isn't that the truth." Jennifer's gaze was locked with Shai's. An odd energy passed between them as if they were having a silent conversation. "Sure they exist." Jennifer's expression was smug. "I think I see one in the bar right now." She nodded in the direction of Val.

Erihn frowned, then glanced over to see a man standing with his back to them as he spoke with Val. All she could see was brownish hair pulled into a short ponytail with something silver that gleamed as he moved his head. He was big and broad, dwarfing Val by a few inches. His black clothing made him seem enormous. Threatening. Untamed. Chilled, a shiver rippled over her skin as a faint sense of foreboding hovered on the edge of her consciousness. "Are you okay?" Jennifer touched her on the knee to get her attention. "I'm fine," Erihn whispered. She cleared her throat. "I think I need more champagne." Vivian leaned forward and reached for the bottle. "I'm with you sister."

She moved like a cat, dainty, her feet barely touching the floor. Fayne leaned against the bar, his pint of Scottish ale forgotten beside him. Through the doorway into the coffeehouse portion of The Brew House, he watched her as she wove her way around the tables filled with chatting patrons. She was headed toward the stage at the far end of the room. Her hair was long and loose, ending just below her backside. The dark color was nondescript in the low lighting. Unbound, it obscured her profile as she paused to speak to the announcer. Gesturing at the stage, she nodded, and Fayne caught a glimpse of the pale oval of her face and shadowed eyes. Dressed in a long skirt the color of dirt and an enveloping cream-colored shirt, she was as diametrically opposed to the other women in their barely-there summer dresses as chalk was to cheese. Covered from head to toe with her modest, enveloping clothes and long, shaggy hair, she looked as if she were trying to hide from something. Or someone. She was an enigma. Fayne smiled. He loved puzzles. Curiosity had certainly almost killed this cat a time or two, but that didn't stop him from his favored pastime. Puzzles drove him mad and women were his favorite riddle. He reveled in their femininity, their scent, and their sensuality. Basked in the hidden mysteries of their shapely limbs and secretive eyes. Overdosed on their voices and wrapped himself in their beauty while rejoicing in their strength. In short, he loved women. His eyes narrowed as the woman stepped onto the stage. She reached to adjust the microphone, her slender fingers curled around the base as she raised it to the correct level. She pushed her hair back with her left hand, allowing him a glimpse of her profile. Dark brows, a lovely cheekbone and a slightly snubbed nose. She glanced to her left and smiled at her friends as they jostled for better viewing positions on the low-slung couch and chairs. A shy smile curved her mouth as a gentle blush swept her skin. She

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

Erihn released her grip on the microphone. The amount of champagne she'd imbibed made the room fuzzy and indistinct. She blinked. Vivian was right. It was much easier to get up here when she couldn't see more than a foot in front of her. She grinned and ducked her head to prevent an undignified snort of

laughter. The announcer spoke. "Our next poet's name is Erihn, and her poem is entitled, 'The Cat.'" Polite applause broke out as the lights dimmed, leaving her in a pinpoint spotlight of pale violet. The only other light in the room came from the candles on the tables and track lighting along the old brick walls. Through the doorway, she could see into the bar section of The Brew House. A tall, broad figure lounged against the bar next to Val. She caught a glimpse of dark eyes in a strong, chiseled face before a shriek startled her, ripping her gaze away. "You GO, Erihn," Vivian bellowed. Erihn's cheeks heated and she looked down at the stage floor, avoiding the curious gazes of the bar inhabitants. She took a deep breath to steady herself, exhaling slowly, then she began. Full moon rising, I strain my ears to hear, Sounds that feed the growing hunger of my fear. Anticipation building pictures in my head. She shifted her gaze off the stage to the main floor as she spoke. Inexorably, she began tracing a path up the narrow aisle which led into the bar, skimming over the shoes and ankles of their owners. Through dark shadows, eyes that seek to see, Signs of legend's mystic entity. A pair of black boots moved into the center of the doorway, halting her journey. Slowly, her gaze traveled from the tips of the boots to tight black jeans that covered a pair of strong calves and lovingly cupped muscular thighs. Emerging from the dream-time canopy, An awesome figure, challenging my sanity. Her gaze skimmed over narrow hips, consciously avoiding his fly and the mysteries contained there. He wore a black silk dress shirt and the only word that came to mind was "big" as she scanned the breadth of his shoulders and massive chest. Prowling softly on his catlike feet, A strong, tanned throat and a square jaw, full lips that looked incredibly soft and a sharp nose. High cheekbones gave the sculptured face an aristocratic air. But it wasn't his face as much as his eyes that drew her attention. They were the most exotic shade of violet she'd ever seen and they were staring right at her. Eyes glowing with a deep violet heat. Erihn's breath caught in her throat forcing her to pause. She averted her gaze from those hypnotic eyes

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

kiss. Your lips meet mine and I am lost - my inhibitions flown. His head dipped. No turning back-no backing down-the seeds of passion sown. His lips brushed hers, the faintest of touches. My being reels, my blood congeals, you claw into my mind. His lips touched hers again, and Erihn's left hand rose of its own volition to fist in the silk of his shirt. A soft protest escaped her as he pulled away, her gaze fastened on his lips. You open a secret place I thought I'd never find. She released her grip on his shirt. Sliding her hands up, she slipped them past his open collar and cupped her palms around the warmth of his neck. Gently, she tugged his mouth back to hers. Now the moment is at hand I surrender to this urge... Heat shafted through her body as she rose to her tiptoes, pressing her herself against him. His lips were warm and soft. A sigh escaped her as he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing her lips, gently coaxing, then demanding entry. Her lips parted and she took him deep. The taste of him, darkly erotic, sinful, rocketed through her. A whimper caught in her throat. She was Eve to his Adam and she hungered for more of the forbidden fruit. Thunderous applause startled Erihn from the sensual darkness she'd entered. With a gasp, she broke the kiss, her shocked gaze meeting his heated one. She could taste him in her mouth, on her lips, and her body screamed for more. "Erihn," Vivian bellowed. "Can I have him when you're done?" Stunned, Erihn pushed her way out of his arms and turned to gape at her friends. Too late, she realized her mistake. One hand released her neck and brushed her hair away from her cheek. A finger traced the scar that emerged from her hairline just above her ear to slash down through her cheek to her jaw, then along her jaw to the corner of her mouth. The signature of a madman. Horrified, she jerked from his touch, her breath coming in shallow pants. She risked a glance at the handsome face of the man who'd kissed her so completely. Shadowed eyes stared at her, his expression hard. A low, almost feral growl sounded from those perfectly sculpted lips. Shocked, she dropped her gaze and stared hard at his throat. One perfect kiss. She couldn't look at him, couldn't risk finding revulsion and pity in those miraculous eyes. Panic set in, tearing her composure. She darted to the left as the stranger reached for her again and jumped off the

stage. Whispers broke behind her as she ran up the aisle and out of the coffeehouse, desperate to escape her imperfection.

Chapter 2 Avon, Colorado "So what did you think of him?" Shai asked. From the tone of voice, Erihn knew her friend was smiling. "Who?" She shifted the phone into a more comfortable position. Shai snorted. "You know darn good and well what I'm talking about. Fayne, the handsome rogue who kissed you right out of your shoes last night in front of two hundred complete strangers." "You're exaggerating." "Am not! He marched right up there in front of everyone in that room and staked his claim to you." "Shai," Erihn squeaked, her cheeks heating with embarrassment. "He did nothing of the sort. I think he liked my poem and was just... just... caught up in the moment." "Ha! If he'd been any more caught up in the moment, you'd have been stripped bare on stage and he'd have taken you then and there." She hunched her shoulder as her body heated with remembrance. "He was a bit intense..." "The mistress of understatement," Shai drawled. "You were lucky to escape intact, my dear." "Oh, please..." "So, what are you going to do now?" Erihn stifled a sigh of relief at the abrupt change of subject. "Well, I'm going to start organizing my research for the next book." "No, I didn't mean that." Shai interrupted. "I meant, what are you going to do about Fayne?" She frowned. "What are you talking about? I don't have to do anything about Fayne. I won't be seeing him again." "Think so? I have a feeling he might make an appearance sooner than you think." Shai answered in a singsong voice. Erihn pulled the handset away from her ear and scowled at it before tucking it into her shoulder again. "What are you going on about? This friend of yours walked into The Brew House and, for some reason, possibly demon possession, he ventured forth across a crowded room and kissed me. What's the big

deal?" "Sounds like Fayne's slipping. This isn't like him at all. He is rather well- known for his... um...technique. Are you telling me his kiss was no big deal?" Shai sounded doubtful. "It was... okay." Erihn squirmed. "Not good enough, Erihn. Keep in mind that I know him. Not well, mind you, and certainly not in the biblical sense, but I've heard many stories about him and the word 'okay' was never mentioned. Spectacular or stupendous is more in line with his particular abilities, or so I've been told." "Well, maybe he was a little better than okay..." "How much better?" Shai pounced. Erihn shook her head, a smile curving her lips. As an inquisitor, Shai was like a cat with a mouse. Her victims either gave in or died from exhaustion. "Well, maybe he was a little better than justokay ." "You're so hopeless!" Shai sighed in exasperation. "On a scale of one to five, where one is mildly amused by his technique and five is wanting to throw him on the floor and nail him, where did Fayne's kiss fall?" "I don't believe in kissing and telling," she responded primly. "You haven't been properly kissed before." Shai's patience was nearing an end and the tension sounded in her voice. "Now, spill the beans or I'll come to Avon and pour champagne down your throat until you admit it!" "Okay, he was at least a four." Exhausted, Erihn collapsed on the couch. "Finally!" Shai yelled and Erihn winced, pulling the phone away from her tortured eardrum. Cautiously, she brought the phone back into place. "Will you shut up? Val will hear you!" "I don't have to yell for that, he's sitting right here." "What!" Erihn sat up sharply, mortification sending ribbons of heat directly to her cheeks. "Don't you dare let him know..." "She said he kisses like a bandit," Shai wasn't speaking into the receiver. "No!" Erihn yelled as she heard Val's throaty laughter. "Darn it, Shai!" "He already figured it out." She sounded smug. "He knew something was up when you ran out of The Brew House like that." "I'm going to kill you." Erihn sagged against the couch and groaned. "I'll never be able to look Val in the face again." "Darling, don't be that way," Shai purred. "Val adores you and he only wants what's best for you. He'd

never think about embarrassing you over this." "Unlike some people I know," Erihn grumbled. "I love you, Erihn, and I'm delighted Fayne has awakened the woman who was sleeping beneath those hideous clothes. Now, we just need to find you a nice man who'll understand and love you." "Shai, I was never asleep." Erihn lunged to her feet. "I was just-" "Hiding. Erihn, hold on. I'm going to shoo Val from the room so we can have some frank girl talk." She heard Shai pull away from the phone and say something to Val. He rumbled in response and then, a few seconds later, she heard the sound of a door closing. "I'm back. Now, admit it, darling, you've been hiding for the better part of the past eighteen years." "You don't understand." Pain twisted Erihn's stomach. Her friends couldn't understand what it was like to be at the mercy of a madman for days on end. While the physical damage had been excruciating, the mental damage that'd been inflicted was far more devastating and harder to heal. "You're right. I don't know what it's like to be raped. But I know how it is to be terrorized. I also know what it's like to try to hide from the world. There comes a time when you have to put the darkness behind you and step into the light. I want you to step into the light, darling. It's time." Tears stung Erihn's eyes. "There are those of us who prefer the darkness and I'm one of them," she said stiffly. "We don't need to stand in the light when we're better suited to the dark." "Bull-hockey." She pressed her lips together to control the trembling as tears spilled over. She felt as if she were teetering on a precipice with two possible fates before her. One was to step back onto the safe and familiar ground, and the other was to leap into the unknown and see if she could fly. While a part of her wanted to leap into the abyss, a larger part of her soul wanted to step back to the solid earth and remain there, safe and secure. Coward. "Pish tosh! You're the least cowardly person I know." Erihn started. She wasn't even aware she'd spoken out loud. She walked over to the stereo, shoved a CD into the player and pushed the play button. "Oh, Erihn, you don't have to jump into anything," Shai continued. "I want you to think about it. Think about getting out with people other than us, maybe dating a nice gentleman who'll understand what you've been through." Shai paused, sounding a bit unsure. "I only want you to be happy." "I know, Shai, I know. But I want you to understand that Iam happy." Erihn frowned as the opening strains of Mozart'sRequiem poured from the speakers. She pushed the power button again to silence the melancholy music. "And lonely," Shai interrupted. "You're lonely, even if you won't admit it to me. You and I both know it." Erihn gave a faint laugh. "How can I be lonely when my head is filled with strangers clamoring for me to

write their stories?" "That isn't the same at all and you know it. You need interaction with other people. You're alone far too much." Shai sighed. "Erihn, I just want you to think about expanding your horizons a bit. After you finish this book maybe? Val and I can double date with you or something." She couldn't prevent the bark of laughter that escaped her lips. Somehow, she couldn't see Val sitting around, making guy talk with a reserved man of any type. "I don't think so." "Well, think about it. I know a lot of very nice men..." "Okay, conversation over. The last thing I need is a blind date," Erihn interrupted. "Truly, Shai, I appreciate your concern. I'm not sure why one little kiss brought on this tangent of yours." "It wasn't the kiss, Erihn, it was your response to it. You've never responded to a man like that," Shai pointed out. "You make it sound like droves of men have been turned from my door, and that isn't the case at all. I haven't had the opportunity to date. You know I've been busy." "For eighteen years?" "Shai." "No one is that busy." "Shai!" "Not even theQueen is that busy..." "SHAI!" "Please, just think about it while you're working at Jennifer's." "Oh, look, someone's knocking at the door," Erihn lied in frustration. "I think it's the pizza guy." "Erihn, there's no pizza place in the valley that'll deliver all the way up the mountain," Shai ground out. "New place," Erihn lied swiftly. "Gotta go, love ya!" Wincing as she heard Shai's growl of displeasure, she hit the disconnect button. Blessed silence. Shai would get her later for hanging up like that. Erihn sighed as she dropped the phone into the cradle. She felt like she'd spent fifteen rounds in the ring with a heavyweight. Mentally and physically exhausted, she walked to the open French doors. The late afternoon air was still warm and the scent of pine and the rattle of the aspen leaves were endearing and familiar. Surrounded by lush plants and a view that staggered the imagination, the hot tub beckoned. A trill of anticipation ran through her. She stepped onto the deck and into the brilliant Colorado sunshine. She scanned the thick trees and dense undergrowth for any sign of movement.

No neighbors for miles around. She was alone. Really alone. Smiling, Erihn walked to the hot tub and her snack, abandoned when the phone had rung. A tray loaded with a wineglass and two cellophane-wrapped plates sat on the ledge of the hot tub. One plate contained cheese cubes, chunks of summer sausage, Greek olives and pâté while the other contained a selection of pita triangles and crackers. A bottle of Kendall-Jackson Chardonnay sat beside the tray, condensation forming on the bottle. Mac, darling man that he was, had left a welcoming note on the fridge inviting her to partake of the food he'd prepared for her. The only confusing part was that there was two of everything; two steaks marinating in fresh herbs, two prepared salads and two potatoes, scrubbed and ready for baking. Maybe he'd assumed she'd bring a friend? This would be an excellent place for a lover's rendezvous. A beautiful house nestled in the mountains. No neighbors for miles to break the solitude. Perfect for two lovers wanting time away from the world. For her, it was the flawless place to get some serious plotting and writing done. Her briefcase, filled with notebooks and research material, lay within easy reach of the tray. It was time to get to work. She eyed the bubbling, steamy water. This new diversion had been added since she'd last visited and she'd never been in a hot tub before. She reached and dipped her fingers into the clear blue water. It wrapped around her hand like a lover's caress, soothing her skin and urging her to partake of its delicious warmth. Dizzy with anticipation, Erihn cast a wary glance around the deck and surrounding wilderness. Spying no movement, save that of the breeze in the trees, she reached for her cardigan and slid it off her shoulders. Tossing the bulky garment on the nearest chair, she unbuttoned her ivory cotton camp shirt. The sun was warm on her skin, bordering on decadent, as she slid the shirt off her body, tossing it onto the sweater before reaching for her skirt. One button and a quick zipper later, she stepped out of the denim garment, letting it slide to a heap on the deck. Clad in serviceable white cotton panties and bra, she sidled to the steps leading into the hot tub. Taking a deep breath, she held it as she squared her shoulders and shucked her underclothes. Naked and feeling defenseless, she scrambled up the short steps into the warm oasis. She exhaled loudly as the water surrounded her, welcoming her into the crystal blue depths. She settled into the seat nearest the tray with a groan of delight. Reaching over, she poured herself a glass of wine; the lovely golden color shimmered in the sunlight. Raising the glass in a silent toast, she took a sip of the nectar. This was heaven. No doubt about it, the first thing she'd do when she got home would be to purchase a hot tub. Maybe she could squeeze it onto her tiny porch if she got rid of the rack of neglected plants. Warm water seduced her bare skin in silken waves as she stretched to turn the jets off. The only sounds were the birds and the rustle of leaves as she settled against the backrest to enjoy the view. Jennifer's house was perched high on Red Mountain on the edge of a jagged peak. Her land dropped away just beyond the deck and Vail Valley lay below. The tiny ribbon of Interstate 70 looked

insubstantial from this distance. The Eagle River bubbled through the valley to twine intimately with a small rural road on its journey from the mighty Colorado River. Snow-capped mountain peaks pushed at the blinding blue sky and nary a cloud was in sight. Summer in the Rockies was as close to heaven as one could get here on earth. She yawned. Soaking in the hot tub while watching the sunset was just the ticket for her hangover. That's what she got for drinking too much champagne last night. Hopefully, her new friend Kendall-Jackson would take care of the rest of her headache. According to Vivian, the best cure for a hangover was a shot of the hair of the dog that bit you. And if there were anyone who'd know a good hangover cure, it would be Vivian. Erihn was more than ready to enjoy her month of solitude before diving into her new book, and she loved coming out for her yearly visit. Several years ago, Jennifer extended an open invitation to use the house anytime she wished. Now, it had become a tradition that, with each new book, she came to stay while putting her thoughts in order. A month of quiet was what she needed to organize her notes and plot out her book, and this year was no different. Her latest novel had been released almost two months ago, andVelvet Lover still hovered near the top of the bestseller lists. Her beloved little were-cats were a success. Who would have thought the mythical were-cat-a man who turned into a panther at the full moon-would catch the hearts and fantasies of millions of romance readers? Then, there were his nocturnal proclivities... Erihn cringed at the thought of the steamy love scenes she'd written. The graphic scenes startled even her.Velvet Lover was a radical departure from her usual style and her readers were eating it up. Most of them anyway. She frowned. Someone out there didn't like her were-cats and they weren't very shy about telling her so. At first, the letters had been innocuous, commenting upon her talent before suggesting she return to writing about "normal" subjects. But, after the news release that a sequel calledVelvet Rhapsody was in the works, the notes had taken a more sinister tone. The latest accused her of being a pervert and a poor moral influence on her readers. In general, she discounted the letters; after all, it wasn't as if the writer knew where she lived. All of the letters were sent to her editor and that mailing information was in the back of her books. But a woman with her history couldn't be too careful. Erihn frowned and sank lower in the water until it reached her chin. She didn't want to think aboutthat . Unbidden, his name popped into her mind. Richard Michael Chapman. Despite the warmth of the water, she shivered. Darkness beckoned at the edge of her consciousness and she pushed it away. No way would she go back there, not now, not ever. The view was beautiful, the water was warm, the wine was crisp and it was time to concentrate on other things.

Maybe she should allow herself to think about last night's adventures? Unbidden, a smile curved her lips. Color scorched her cheeks as fragmented visions of the handsome Fayne danced through her mind. He was... something else. Meow! A giggle escaped her before she could prevent it. Startled, Erihn sat up and clamped a hand over her mouth. Look at her, acting like a giddy schoolgirl! She was thirty-six years old, too old for a handsome rogue to set her mind to flight. It'd never happened with anyone else. Her hand dropped to the water with a slap. That was true. When she was kidnapped, she'd been a seventeen-year-old girl, too young and busy to date. After that, she'd never wanted a man near her, not that they'd come running. Not with a face like hers. It was dark in the club last night... But he'd touched her and traced her scar with his fingers. Unbidden, she raised her hand to follow the scar's path down her cheek. Maybe he didn't care. Erihn frowned and forced her hand away from her face. Men liked women who were beautiful, witty, and secure in their sexuality. She wasn't any of those things, and she had enough emotional baggage for a fully loaded 747. You can still dream. Yes, that she could still do and do well. She could dream her life away. There were times when all she had were her secret dreams, the ones she never released into the light of day. She took a small sip from her glass. Setting it back on the edge of the hot tub, she selected a chunk of sharp cheddar and popped it in her mouth. Leaning against the edge, she closed her eyes as a delicious languor spread through her limbs. Fantasies. Everyone had them and, as a romance writer, they were her stock in trade. Last night had certainly been a fantasy, except it'd come true. Erihn smiled. Tall, dark and wicked he'd been. And with a name like Fayne, maybe that added to the attraction. What did "Fayne" mean? She'd have to look it up. Eyes still closed, she reached for the tray and fumbled for another piece of cheese. And that kiss. She bit into the morsel and chewed thoughtfully, her toes curling at the memory of the embrace. Immediately an image of Fayne appeared. Dark and lean, his movements sensual, predatory as he'd approached her. There was something untamed, feral about him that defied description. The patrons of the bar had faded to obscurity as her attention was drawn to him, only him. His violet eyes... Violet eyes. She'd never heard of anyone with violet eyes save Elizabeth Taylor. They were mesmerizing. Maybe her new hero could have violet eyes, and kisses that could melt butter and the heroine's resistance. A man like Fayne was someone most women could only dream about-dark, predatory and dangerous. Women

would fall all over him. He certainly wouldn't have need of a scarred woman... Erihn's eyes popped open at the intrusive thought. Hesitantly, she glanced at her body, but the water obscured the imperfections. A huff of air escaped her. If no one ever saw the marks, then she could ignore them, at least for a little while. Until she slept. She shook herself from the disturbing thoughts. Right now, she needed to work on her book, her hero in particular. Turning, she propped an arm on the edge of the tub as she reached for the briefcase and her notebook inside. Opening the pad, she placed it on the side of the tub, safe from the water, and wrote the date on the page. So far, she had precious little material about this hero. All she knew was his name, Tuomas, and he'd been mentioned several times in the first book. It never occurred to her that the readers would latch onto his name and want to read his story. "The hero should be blonde," Erihn spoke out loud. Again, images of Fayne invaded her mind, his mocking smile, those mysterious eyes. She groaned and tossed her pen on the notebook. "Go away," she muttered. Gripping the ledge of the tub, she propped her chin on her arms. Raising her feet, she floated on her stomach, her toes brushing the far side of the tub. The warm water soothed her skin with the intimate touch of a lover. Cautiously, she spread her legs just the slightest bit, allowing the warm water to caress sensitive flesh. Despite the warmth of the water, her nipples pearled. She shifted her legs further apart, the movement causing the water to lap against her nether lips. Another soft huff of air escaped her and she gave herself to the fantasy that called her name. Fayne stood at the edge of the hot tub, a cream-colored towel draped about his narrow hips. He watched her; his gaze scorched her skin. "I've been waiting for you." Wordless, Erihn extended her hand, beckoning him to join her in the water. She stared transfixed as he released the towel, dropping it unselfconsciously behind him on the steps. The sunlight gleamed on the golden skin of his shoulders. Dark hair formed a T on his chest, covering him from nipple to nipple, and trailing down his flat stomach to the thatch that surrounded his manhood. Eieda! Erihn blinked as he stepped into the water. His hand cupped her chin, forcing her gaze to his as he pulled her into his arms. "I've waited so long," he purred. She sighed as his arms surrounded her, tucking her against his body. His head dipped, his lips grazing her shoulder, sending shivers of desire through her. His feet bracketed hers, his arousal pressing against her stomach as he placed open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone.

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

Fayne blinked. One minute, the fetching sight of Erihn lazing in the hot tub greeted him, and a second later she'd disappeared beneath the water. He dropped his duffel bag and strode to the hot tub. The clear water revealed a nude Erihn, holding her breath while crouching in the corner, her arms wrapped around herself protectively.

He grinned. She certainly couldn't stay down there forever. He stripped off his leather jacket and tossed it over a chair to join her clothing. Might as well make himself at home while he waited for her to reappear. He picked up her wineglass and took a drink, the wine tart on his tongue. Selecting a chunk of cheese, he bit into it, relishing the bite of perfectly aged cheddar. He refilled her glass, then leaned on the edge of the tub to await her re- emergence. He didn't have to wait long. With a splash, her head and shoulders popped out of the water. Thick brown hair streamed into her eyes as she blindly floundered for the edge. She panted for air as she fumbled for purchase on the slick fiberglass ledge. Fayne abandoned his borrowed glass on the tray and grabbed her wet hand. She froze. He secured her hand on the edge before releasing her. Reaching over, he shoved her hair out of her face. Horrified brown eyes stared at him. "What are you doing here?" She spluttered. He grinned. "I live here." Erihn jerked away from the edge and, with a startled cry, she lost her precarious footing on the bottom of the tub. With a splash, she went under again. He lunged for her, banging his knees against the wooden side of the tub surround. Bending, he captured one slippery arm. He caught her other arm and hauled her to the surface, cradling her against his chest. Slender fingers clutched at him as she leaned into him, coughing water across his shirt. He grimaced at the sensation of the spreading wetness on his shoulder. "I don't think you make a very good mermaid." He commented, relishing the feel of her warm, damp flesh through his clothes. She might wear bulky clothing, but there was nothing wrong with her body. Full breasts pressed against his chest, her nipples erect, while her long shapely legs dangled in the water. He couldn't see the rest of her. What a pity. Fayne took a deep breath, then tensed. He could smell her arousal. Hot and fluid, the scent of warm woman surrounded him. His body responded and his jeans grew uncomfortably tight as a familiar tension invaded below his waist. She shoved at his chest, forcing him to release her. He almost smiled as she slid back into the water, crossed her arms over her breasts and glared at him, but he had a feeling that might be a big mistake. She wouldn't take being laughed at lightly. She was truly a delightful mass of contradictions. She fascinated him. "You don't live here," she accused. "You followed me." Fayne shook his head. "I've been staying here off and on since last December. Obviously, Jennifer didn't tell you." "N-n-no." She looked so confused and dismayed that he battled the urge to take her into his arms. Instead, he stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets, then stifled a groan as his pants tightened across his groin. He withdrew his hands and forced his arms to his sides.

"She must've forgotten," he offered. "Could you please turn around?" She blurted. She looked so miserable, standing there trying to cover up every inch of her delectable pink skin, he decided to take pity on her. Turning, he retrieved her sweater from under the pile of clothes on the chair behind him. Without looking back, he offered the garment over his shoulder, grinning when she snatched it out of his hand. He tried to ignore the rustle of clothing as she pulled the sweater on, all the while muttering under her breath. "I cannot believe this! How could Jennifer...I'm so annoyed...He must be lying." Fayne walked over to the deck railing as he heard her splashing her way out of the hot tub. He leaned against the rail, taking in the stunning view of the valley at his feet. Several mountain peaks over, he noticed clouds gathering. Dark and menacing, a storm was coming, and it was going to be a big one. "I'm not lying. Call Jennifer and ask her," he said mildly. He was surprised when Erihn appeared beside him. Her hair covered most of her face, but her dark eyes were throwing darts at him through the damp strands. She had a briefcase clutched to her chest. Angling her chin up, she stared at him. "I think I shall," she announced. She turned on one heel and he watched her stalk toward the doors leading to the living room. Her cardigan barely covered her shapely backside and he whistled in appreciation. She stiffened, her steps faltered. Squaring her shoulders, she marched into the house, slamming the door behind her. Fayne chuckled as he turned back to stare at the approaching storm. Whatever her physical faults, she had a great pair of legs and an ass to kill for. He walked back to the hot tub, retrieved his borrowed wineglass and offered a silent salute to the coming storm.

"What do you mean, he'sstaying here?" Erihn fought to keep the rising panic out of her voice. "Darling, I'mso sorry I didn't tell you. I simply forgot. With the last- minute packing and everything else, it slipped my mind." Jennifer said. "Besides, Fayne is harmless for the most part..." "For themost part," Erihn hissed. "How could youdo this to me?" She gripped the phone as she tiptoed to the window. The master bedroom overlooked the deck and the abandoned hot tub. Through the blinds, she saw Fayne stretched out on a lounge chair. He'd absconded with her snack tray and was making steady inroads into the contents. Cad! Not only had he invaded her sanctuary, but he'd made off with her food also. Without warning, he sat up and pulled off his shirt. Her mouth went dry. Golden skin stretched taut over rippling muscles, obscured only by a fine dusting of hair on his chest. A narrow line of dark hair vanished into the top of his jeans, as if it were a roadmap to

his manhood, neatly dissected his washboard stomach. Long, muscular legs were encased in worn denim and he'd kicked off his shoes. He was the picture of a relaxed male, far more handsome than her daydreams had allowed. He reached for another morsel when Erihn caught sight of his right arm. "He has atattoo ," she squeaked. Fayne looked up, those catlike eyes boring into hers. Startled, she jerked away from the window and almost dropped the phone. "He does?" Jennifer was saying. "What is it? Better yet,where is it?" "It looks like a ring of thorns on his arm," Erihn whispered. "How boring. I would have expected a more interesting place from Fayne," Jennifer commented. "I wonder if he has any more." "This isn't funny," Erihn hissed. She tiptoed over to her suitcase, lying open on the massive bed. "Why are you whispering?" Jennifer asked. "I don't want him to hear me." She began pawing through the jumble of tangled clothing until she located her black sweatpants. "Where is he?" Jennifer laughed. "Right outside the door?" "On the deck," Erihn propped the phone against her shoulder and struggled into the worn cotton pants. "He can't hear you from the deck." "Sure could have fooled me." Erihn grunted as she pulled the pants over her damp skin. "What are you doing?" Jennifer demanded. "Getting dressed. I'm leaving," she snapped. "Erihn, let's not be hasty," Jennifer replied. "I've known Fayne for many years..." "How many?" "Hundreds." Erihn scowled, "Very funny, Jennifer. I really don't think this is a laughing matter. This is your house and you have the right to invite anyone you like. I just wish you'd told me he'd be here. I could've made other arrangements." She grabbed a pink sweatshirt with a print of Mickey Mouse on the front. "Erihn, please listen to me. I'm very serious when I say you're perfectly safe with Fayne. He'd never hurt you, or any woman for that matter," Jennifer said. "I'm begging you not to leave. He's staying in the basement guestroom. Other than stumbling over one another in the kitchen, you don't even have to see

him." Erihn paused; her throat crowded with fear and her palms grew slick. She couldn't face it again. Nothing would ever induce her to sleep in a house with any man on the loose, let alone one as potent as Fayne. Nothing. "I'm sorry, Jennifer," her voice cracked. "Oh, er..." The line went dead. She frowned and tapped on the power button, but it was still lit. Setting the phone in the cradle, she glanced out the window. Her glorious sunshine was gone, obliterated by black clouds the likes of which she'd never seen. Flashes of lightning lit the darkening skies as the wind picked up. "No." Erihn stumbled outside to the tiny deck that extended from the bedroom sliding door. The thunderclouds were beginning their slow descent into the valley toward them. "Isn't this great?" She looked down to see Fayne standing at the railing; his beautiful ginger- colored hair whipped by the cool winds the storm generated. He was leaning forward, over the railing as if he urging the storm to move faster. His handsome face was alight with excitement. "Great isn't the word I'd use to describe it," Erihn said, her lips numb as despair washed over her. She was trapped. Until this storm blew over, there was no way down the mountain.

Edward drew an icy finger over the flowing script on the page. He knew the words by heart, yet he let his gaze travel over the crux of the letter again. "Erihn Spencer is in possession of a copy of Elsabeth's diary, stolen from me over two centuries ago. I don't care how you do it, but I expect you to return to me what is rightfully mine." So, Erihn was in possession of Mikhail's wife's diary, how very interesting. He knew Elsabeth had come into intimate knowledge of the preternaturals before her untimely death and she'd recorded everything in her journal. Uncovered years later, copies had been made of the decaying original in the hopes of securing and using the information at some point in time. Instead, they'd come up missing, stolen from Mikhail's ancestral home. Now, hundreds of years later, one had finally turned up. The immediate ramifications were devastating to Mikhail and his ilk. The diary could very easily contain information to bring down all of them in their attempt to overthrow the current Council of Elders, the ruling body of the preternatural underworld. His gaze moved down the page. "Leave no witnesses..." That was certainly easy enough. Edward smiled. First, though, there was the little matter of Fayne.

Edward picked up a photograph that lay near the letter. It was a photo of one of Edward's most precious possessions. Max. Edward's eyes narrowed as he scanned the photo of Fayne chasing after Max as they played with a football. Max was his, and he belonged with him, not that were-creature. Soon, he'd reclaim his property. Edward dropped the photo on the letter, then reached forward, plucking a rose from an ornate arrangement on the table. He brushed the blood red bloom over his lips, enjoying the feel of the silken petals over his chilled skin. The scent of roses teased his nostrils. He held the blossom an inch from his lips and gently blew. Icy breath passed his lips and curled around the rose. Within seconds, it was frozen solid. Edward admired his handiwork before crushing the blossom in his hands. Jagged shards of broken petals rained down on the photograph until Fayne's image was obliterated. His lips moved but no sound was issued. So be it.

Chapter 3 The storm hit with a vengeance. Erihn scrambled to shut the sliding door in the bedroom, the icy rain stinging her arms. She caught a glimpse of Fayne as he wrestled with the hot tub cover. The wind worked against him as he tried to lock the cover holder into place. Popping the lock on the door, she dashed out of the bedroom and down the steps. The windows were shrouded in a veil of heavy rain as torrential winds slammed against the house. She slid on the glossy foyer tiles as she scrambled around the newel post and ran down the hall and into the sunken living room, heading for the French doors and the deck beyond. The doors swung in the breeze and, beside them, lay their discarded clothes where Fayne must have tossed them. The winds stole her breath as she stepped onto the maelstrom. "What in the devil are you doing out here?" Fayne yelled. "Helping you," she yelled back. Staggering against the slashing rain, she reached the hot tub and grasped the edge of the padded cover. Together, they slid it into place and secured it. "Get into the house. I have to put the umbrella down." He pointed to the picnic table umbrella that was about to topple over the edge of the deck.

Erihn nodded. The deck was cold beneath her bare feet as she made her way to the railing. The glorious sight of Vail Valley lay hidden in a heavy curtain of clouds and falling rain. The rippling rivers and twisting highways were obscured, leaving the house alone in the storm. She grabbed the rail as a strong gust of wind slapped at her. It tugged her clothing and whipped her hair about her face. Joy bubbled in her throat as the fury of the storm broke around her. Thunder crashed overhead and she felt its power invade her very soul. Tipping her head back, she laughed as the rain pelted her upturned face. Rapture. As a child, she'd loved to run into the storms. Many times, her mother had come after her and hauled her back inside. Running about in the rain simply wasn't done in their family. The Spencers were rigid in their social behaviors, running and laughing in the rain wasn't part of their makeup. Her mother had worked hard to rid Erihn of her disgraceful wild streak. Mother hadn't totally succeeded. Erihn released the railing and held her arms out as if to embrace the storm. The wind lashed her sodden clothing as joy sang though her veins. She was one with the fury of nature, and, for the first time in many years, she let the storm take control. She'd almost forgotten the joy of receiving absolution from the forces of nature. How sad that she'd forgotten something so important in life. "Are you insane?" Rough hands grabbed her and she squealed as Fayne's arm encircled her waist. He hugged her close to his body and pulled her away from the railing and toward the door. They wove a tortuous path across the deck and made the journey without incident until they reached the doorway. Her toes, numb with cold, slammed into the doorjamb, throwing her off balance. She gave a squeak as she and Fayne tumbled through the door. Quick as a cat, he switched their positions so she ended up on top and he took the brunt of the fall. Erihn landed on his chest with a whoosh, her elbow digging into his stomach. Wind whipped into the room from the open doorway, but Erihn paid it no mind, so intent was she upon the man beneath her. She uncurled her fist, laying it on his upper chest. Her arm was twisted between them, hampering her movements. "Sorry," she mumbled, trying to rise. His hands clamped around her shoulders, halting her progress. Startled, she looked into dark eyes. He was furious. "What the devil were you thinking?" he ground out. "N-n-nothing. I was enjoying the storm." "Enjoying the..." He bit off the rest of his sentence to scowl at her. Oh, that mouth. She quivered as her gaze dropped to his lips. Yearning rose in her chest as she looked

at him sprawled beneath her, water streaming onto the carpet from their wet clothing. She wanted to taste him, just a little taste... Erihn leaned into him, her hair sliding off her shoulders to surround them in a sodden curtain. She brushed her lips against his. Once. Twice. A low growl sounded from his chest as his grip tightened on her shoulders. Startled, she pulled away. What had she done? Appalled, she fixed her gaze on his chin. She couldn't look him in the eye. "I-I-I'm sorry." He released her shoulders. Gently he stroked his palms down her arms, then up again before moving to her back. He caressed her, moving in long sensuous sweeps that curled her toes. She wanted to purr beneath his knowledgeable touch. She risked a glance at his face. His expression was heated. "I'm not sorry at all." Without warning, he gripped her arms and pulled her toward him until her lips were once again on level with his mouth. His breath mingled with hers, caressing her skin and teasing her senses. His eyes glowed with an inner fire as they fastened on her mouth. She licked her lips nervously. "I guess I'll have to show you how it's done," he purred. Warm and commanding, his mouth covered hers, his tongue licking at the seam of her lips, demanding entrance. A moan was born as she opened her mouth and his tongue ventured forth to tangle with hers. His taste, white wine and warm man, inflamed her senses. Licking and retreating, he teased her senses until she clung to him, wanting more of his magic. Restlessly she moved, trying to get closer to appease the ache centered low in her stomach. His tongue tangled with hers and she captured it between her teeth, then gently sucked. He tensed beneath her; something akin to a purr escaped him. The vibrations of his chest sent a wicked thrill of pleasure through her. If this ecstasy was wrong, she never wanted to be right again. A loud crack of thunder shook the house and broke them apart. Dreamy-eyed, Erihn stared at the man beneath her. His dark eyes scorched her skin as he returned her gaze, his lips parted as he panted for breath. "We're getting wet." His voice sounded raspy and harsh. "I already am," she sighed. She wanted more of his kisses, more of anything he was willing to dish out. He laughed.

Erihn froze. What had she said? As the implication of her words hit her, mortification streamed over her like a pitcher of ice water. How could she be so wanton with any man, let alone a complete stranger? Embarrassed, Erihn scrambled off him and staggered to her feet. What must he think of her? One minute, she wanted nothing to do with him and the next she's pawing him like some sex-starved nymphomaniac. "I'm really sorry." She met his gaze head on and strove for a cool tone. "I shouldn't have done that." He rolled to his feet, his movements supple, graceful. He impaled her with his gaze and her heart gave a queer little jerk. "There's nothing to be sorry about, Erihn. I wanted to kiss you as much as you wanted me to." She looked away from his disturbing eyes, her gaze moving to the bulge in his jeans. He was aroused, very aroused. She dropped her gaze to stare at his knees. Knees were harmless enough, weren't they? "I can't hide what you do to me, Erihn. Nor would I want to hide it." She started to shake, and she backed away from him toward the steps. "This will never happen again." "Don't make reckless statements you won't be able to abide by, kitten. You'll only be embarrassed later." Erihn looked him straight in the eye. "I d-d-don't make idle threats," she stammered as the shivers began in earnest. Her cold, wet clothing sapped the warmth of her body. She was freezing. "Go upstairs and change before you catch your death of cold. We can talk after you've warmed up." Numb, she weighed her choices. She could take the easy way out and escape now, or she could force him to talk to her and make him understand that what just happened on the living room floor would never happen again. She opted for the easy, first choice. Wasting no time, she turned and escaped up the steps into the hallway. As she moved from his sight, she broke into a run.

Hunger finally drove her from her lair. Cautiously, Erihn opened the bedroom door. The tick of the grandfather clock was the only sound in the oppressive silence. Where was he? Had he gone downstairs to bed? Her palms were damp with perspiration as she stepped from the sanctuary of her bedroom onto the landing. The faint scent of rose potpourri and wood smoke teased her nose. She paused at the top of the steps, the suffocating silence of the house ringing in her ears. Creeping down the steps, the banister cool beneath her fingertips, she moved warily, ready to dart back upstairs at any sign of Fayne. The faint crackle of a fire reached her ears. Was he in the living room? A tremendous crack of thunder startled her and shook the house beneath her. The lights flickered, once,

twice, then failed. Erihn clutched the banister and froze as the house plunged into darkness. Panic slammed into her chest, stealing her breath as the oppressive darkness fell, surrounding her like a woolen cloak. Her heart pounded, the sound filling her ears as a cry locked in the back of her throat. Her knees gave way and she clutched the spindles of the railing as she slumped to the steps. She couldn't bear it. She hated the darkness. She screwed her eyes up tight as she broke out into a sweat. She tried to remember what her therapist had told her to do when she was confronted with a panic attack. Breathe. Keeping her eyes closed, she forced herself to sit up straighter and relax her grip on the spindles. Inhale through the nose. Exhale through the mouth. Inhale... Exhale... Inhale... Soft footsteps sounded in the hallway below. Her breath caught with a strangled gasp, her throat frozen. The rustle of clothing, then the clank of metal hitting the floor reached her ears. She opened her eyes. She could see nothing in front of her. Something slithered on the edge of her consciousness then lay still, waiting. A mild curse, the rattle of keys and the sound of footsteps making progress toward the stairs had her muscles tensing. He was coming for her. A whimper broke from her frozen throat and the steps halted. Silence. "Erihn?" No, not again, her mind screamed. She longed to flee up the stairs, but her muscles remained frozen in place. "Erihn, are you okay?" With the faint creak of the lowest riser, the past collided with the present. "You know how it angers me when you try to hide, bitch." Erihn crouched at the top of the wooden steps. The old, warped door against her back was nailed shut from the outside. How long had she been imprisoned here in the darkness? A few days? A week? She had no idea. All she knew was that she had only one chance to escape. She tightened her grip on the sturdy nail she'd managed to work from the rotting wood of the

steps. Coated in blood from her abraded fingertips, the metal was slick and she didn't want to take a chance of losing it in the blinding darkness. Weakened by lack of food, taking him by surprise was the only possible way to regain her freedom. This might be her last chance. A muffled grunt sounded below as her captor searched the confines of the old cellar where he'd imprisoned her. Luck was with her when she'd barely managed to knock the flashlight from his hands, breaking it. The floor was damp and uneven in spots, making it treacherous walking in the dark. She smiled bitterly. She'd had lots of time to explore her prison on her hands and knees, and she knew every inch of it by heart. A crash told her he was nearing the far corner of the cellar. She shifted slightly, careful to keep her hands an exact distance apart so the links of the handcuffs didn't rattle and give her position away. She knew he'd find her, it was only a question of when. The thump of a foot kicking her plastic dinner bowl marked her captor's place as he worked his way toward the steps. Erihn tensed. Her thighs, scaly with dried blood, strained to remain perfectly still. Her breathing was shallow as the monster reached the bottom of the stairs. "I know where you are and I'm coming to get you." The stairs creaked as the monster advanced. He hummed a soft tuneless melody, which grated on her nerves, but she refused to flinch. It was now or never... Icy fingers brushed her ankles, then closed around them, yanking her off balance. Erihn dropped the blanket she'd been clutching around her nude body as her feet were pulled from underneath her. Her backside landed on the highest riser as her head hit the door with a crack. Stunned, Erihn cried out as her tormentor yanked her down several bone-jarring steps. She kicked a foot free and aimed for where she thought his crotch might be. Her foot hit spongy softness and a whoosh of air escaped him. His grip slackened and she rolled to the left, trying to reach the side of the steps. All at once, two hundreds pounds of enraged male landed on her. A cry was wrenched from her lips as strong fingers caught her chin, slamming her head into the stair. Stars exploded in her vision as the fingers shifted to her throat. "You bitch! Do you think you can leave me? I'll tell you when you get to leave..." Fingers dug into her throat as he spoke, cutting off her air supply. Within seconds, the darkness wavered as flickering white sparks appeared. He was going to strangle her. Gathering the last of her flagging energy, Erihn clutched the nail and swung her arm, connecting with his shoulder. Her tormentor emitted a bellow and his fingers lost their grip on her throat. Gasping for air, Erihn swung again, this time connecting with a fleshy part of his body. He reared, trying to move away from her as he squealed in pain. She relinquished the nail and struggled to free herself from where his body pinned her to the stairs. He shifted and, suddenly, she was free. She tried to slide down the stairs, but fingers tangled in her hair, halting her progress and bringing tears to her eyes as they yanked her upright. "Where are you going so fast, little girl?" he taunted. "We aren't done playing just yet." He rose, forcing her to her knees on the steps. "But, first, I need to give you this, and I want you to scream

for me. You remember how much I like that, don't you?" A swift blow to the ribs caused her to collapse on the steps, her uneven panting sounding abnormally loud in the stillness of the cellar. "Don't...you...ever...try...that...again..." He punctuated each word with a vicious kick to her body. Erihn clung to the edge of the stairs, her head swirling as she longed to lose consciousness. She tasted blood on her lips as she bit them to prevent herself from crying out. As long as she had strength in her body, she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of hearing her scream for mercy. He crouched down beside her. "And before I forget," he placed his hand on the small of her back. "This is for trying my patience." With a shove, he sent her tumbling off the side of the steps into the abyss. Fayne thought his heart would break when Erihn went limp beneath him. The tigress who'd attacked him on the stairs lay subdued, fine tremors running through her body as she whimpered softly, her face pressed into the carpeting. He held his breath as he tried to catch what she was saying. "...lightlightlightlightlightlightlightlight..." "Erihn, I'm going to get you a candle. Can you hold on for a minute?" She didn't answer. He levered himself off her body, poised in case Erihn decided to fly at him again. She didn't stir. Her strange mantra, muffled by the carpet, continued. His keen night vision swept over her still form. She didn't appear to be hurt. Maybe she was a sleepwalker? Growing more alarmed by the minute, he scooped her into his arms and the mantra stopped. Straightening, he carried her up the steps and into the master bedroom that she'd just exited. "I'm going to set you on the bed, Erihn. Then I'm going to get a candle." He settled her in the bed and she immediately rolled to her side, curling into a fetal position.What the devil was wrong with her? Glancing around the room, he spied an array of candles on the fireplace hearth. Muttering thanks under his breath, he selected the largest candle and located a book of matches. He lit it before carrying it over to the bed. He breathed a sigh of relief as the golden glow roused Erihn from her stupor. She rolled toward the light, her face waxy pale as she stared transfixed at the flickering flame. She reached for it, but he stopped her before she plunged her hand into the flame. She continued to stare transfixed at the light until, gradually, she became aware of him. She turned, her dark eyes haunted and empty. "More?" Her voice was whisper thin. "You want another candle?"

She nodded in a jerky, uncoordinated fashion before returning her rapt gaze to the single flame that banished the darkness. Fayne put the candle on the nightstand before retrieving more candles. He lit them and placed them strategically around the room until every corner was lit. Turning, he watched her. Erihn sat on the bed, staring at her hands, holding them out as if they were sticky or dirty. She looked at him and he saw the revulsion and confusion in her gaze. He took a step forward and was surprised when she shook her head as if to stop him from approaching her. "I have to wash it off," she whispered. Careful to keep her hands away from the white linens, she rolled off the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. He heard her turn the water on. He picked up a candle and stepped into the doorway to make sure she was okay. Erihn stood bent over the sink, soaping her hands frantically. She raised her head as he came in and set the candle on the vanity. He was struck by the despair in her eyes. "It won't come off," she whispered. Fayne looked down at her wet hands. They looked clean enough to him. "What did you get on them, Erihn?" "Don't you see it?" Her expression was desperate, terrified. He shook his head, still trying to get a grip on what was going on. She dropped her gaze, spied a pumice stone from the vanity, snatched it up and began scrubbing anew. "I tried to fight him... He just kept touching me... And I couldn't... I couldn't... I wouldn't cry... I wouldn't let him... satisfaction... It won't come off..." She fairly sobbed the last words. Stunned, Fayne tried to comprehend the horror of what she was telling him. What in the devil had happened to her? Rage pounded in his temples as a feral snarl threatened to explode from his chest. There'd been times in his lengthy life that he'd been angry enough to kill a man, but never had he taken that final, irrevocable step. Never had he been angry enough to unleash his beast on another human. But, in this moment, more than anything else in the world, he wanted to do just that. Forcing himself to calm, he moved behind her. Reaching around, he stilled her frantic scrubbing and removed the stone from her fingers. He set it on the vanity. "Your hands are clean, Erihn." He spoke quietly, hoping his low tone would break her mania. Her hands stilled as he cupped them, turning them upward into the candlelight so they could see the skin reddened from the abuse of the pumice stone. "See, nothing there." A shudder ripped through her body as a keening wail broke from her lips. Her legs buckled and Fayne was forced to tighten his hold or she'd fall to the floor. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her against him and supported her. Sobs wracked her body as he swept her into his arms. Her hands fisted into his sweater as he carried her back into the bedroom. He laid her on the bed before stretching out beside her. He snaked his arms around her, hugging her tightly. She curled into him as she cried silent tears. Her legs twined around his as if she were trying to crawl inside him and hide from her demons. He knew very well how futile a pursuit that was. "I can't do this anymore," she whispered against the dampened wool. "I can't, I just can't face it

anymore." Fayne tangled his fingers in her thick mane of hair. "Yes, you can, kitten. What other option is there? Giving up? If you give up, he wins, end of game. Do you want to give someone that much power over you?" She shook her head and sniffed, her tears slowing. "You have your answer. You'll continue as you have been, you'll keep succeeding and achieving your goals." She was silent for a few moments before she spoke again. "You're such a nice man," she mumbled. Fayne smiled. He'd been called many things in his life but he couldn't remember a simple declaration meaning more to him than hers did. Her gentle admission touched something fragile in him long since buried. He glanced down at her dark head nestled against his chest. There was something about this woman, something special, unique. She was delicate, yet strong as steel. She was shy, yet she'd kissed him without a second thought, and she responded to his touch like every man's dream. She was truly an innocent. He ran his hand down her back, then up again. She hid her glorious body beneath ill-fitting clothing and long hair, a beguiling mix of woman and child. According to Jennifer, she wrote steamy love novels and had millions of fans, yet she didn't know how to kiss properly. She was such a contradiction, and she intrigued him so. Fayne laid his cheek against the crown of her head when he realized she'd fallen asleep. In sleep, she was as trusting as a child, her limbs heavy and limp against his. As the room grew cooler, he continued to hold her, wondering if he hadn't just handed a previously untouched piece of his heart to the woman in his arms.

He was so handsome, and he terrified her in a way she'd never felt before. Erihn stood in the archway leading into the living room, watching Fayne. He resembled a statue, sitting Indian-style in the middle of a pile of pillows. Leaping flames showed his chiseled profile to perfection, as if he were carved from a block of marble. She swallowed. She wasn't afraid of him physically, but she was certainly afraid of him emotionally. With his gentle words and soothing actions of a few hours ago, he'd reached into her soul and claimed a piece for himself. She knew there was danger in spending more time with this man. If she dared to do so, what sort of damage could he inflict upon her heart? When she'd awoken a few minutes earlier, at first, she hadn't known where she was. Slowly, bits and pieces of the last few hours had filtered through her mind. Weary, she'd wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and slip into the welcoming arms of Morpheus once again, but her empty stomach hadn't let her. Now she stood frozen in the doorway, torn between wanting to speak and running away.

"I thought you might be down for the count this evening." His voice was a quiet rumble. She said the first thing that popped into her head. "I'm hungry." She cringed and caught the tender inner flesh of her lip between her teeth. A faint smile curved his mouth, and he rose from his comfortable position. Moving toward her, his bare feet soundless on the carpeting, she couldn't help but be awed by his grace. Here was a man completely in tune with his body, his animal nature, and his surroundings. Her breath caught as he stopped at the base of the steps into the living room and looked up at her with those mysterious violet eyes. He held out his hand. "Join me for a late dinner?" Erihn was torn. On one hand, she was terrified to step into the light that was Fayne. At the same time, she was terrified not to. His hand didn't waver and he waited patiently, his eyes hooded and his expression neutral. It was his lack of expression that made her decision. That he even wanted to be near her after the madness he'd witnessed was a miracle. For the first time in her life, here was a kind and generous man holding his hand out to her. Was she a fool not to take it? Mustering her courage, Erihn raised her hand and slipped it into his. As his warm fingers curled around hers, Erihn had the sinking feeling nothing would ever be the same again.

Fayne released the breath he'd been holding as he slipped into the kitchen. The wood of the kitchen floor was cool beneath his feet. In a house this size with the electricity out, it got cold rather quickly. Since the electricity went out quite a bit in the wintertime, Jennifer did have a small generator in the basement, but he doubted Erihn knew of its existence. You shouldn't take advantage of the poor girl like that. He brushed the thought away. Erihn would be none the wiser and this was the perfect time to convince her to stay with him. He'd known she'd try and run when she found out he was staying here, and it had taken a lot of convincing for Jennifer to even allow him to remain at the house with her. They were so protective of her, as if she were damaged china. Little did they know that the heart of a warrior beat beneath her skin. He opened the refrigerator and picked up the platter of steaks and piled a small container of butter and a bag of crusty rolls on top. He picked up the plate of leftover cheese and sausage, then hooked a finger around a bottle of wine. Shutting the door, he headed toward the living room. He paused in the doorway to watch Erihn unobtrusively. She sat on a large pillow, her eyes closed as she finger-combed her hair. Firelight flickered over the long dark strands, turning it into a river of red and gold. There was simplicity to her movements, a timelessness that drew him. As he stepped into the room, her movements halted. Her eyes opened as she watched him approach her gaze wary, uncertain.

"How do you like your steak?" He set his bounty on the raised hearth. "Rare." Fayne grinned. "My kind of woman." He reached for the wire grill he'd located earlier in the garage. He propped it over the flames and, with its long legs, it crouched there like a spider. He grabbed the plate and neatly flipped the steaks onto the grill. "It's cold in here." Erihn sounded worried. "I wouldn't worry. We have enough wood for a good long spell." He picked up the fireplace poker and dug around for the wrapped potatoes he'd buried earlier in the glowing embers. "I brought in enough wood to last through the night." "We're lucky to have this much wood available." "Mac enjoys chopping wood. He says it gives him a chance to flex his muscles and it drives Jennifer crazy." He replaced the poker, then picked up the roasting fork and prodded at the sizzling steaks before turning to smile at her. "We have enough food and wood for days, and wonderfully stimulating company to keep us amused." He was surprised when a faint smile touched her lips. She'd left her hair loose so it tumbled over her shoulders, obscuring her scarred cheek. He'd been wrong about her. She wasn't a little brown wren at all. She was lovely. She cleared her throat. "So, how did you meet Jennifer?" Fayne couldn't prevent the laugh from escaping him. "That's a rather uneventful tale." He settled himself into the cozy nest of pillows, still within reach of the steaks. His knee brushed Erihn's and, while she tensed, he was pleased to note she didn't move away. The sooner she got used to him being close to her, the better off she'd be. "Jennifer and I met many years ago in a small shop in London. We were both in pursuit of a rare piece of crystal. While I didn't find the crystal I sought, I did find one of the greatest friends I'll ever have in my life." "And Mac?" She selected a chunk of cheese and popped it into her mouth. "Mac is another story altogether that I'm not sure I'd want to tell in mixed company," He grinned ruefully and reached for the bottle of wine. Erihn looked at him, her brow raised. "You realize, of course, I write romance novels and nothing can shock me?" He doubted that very much. She might write steamy novels, but she was still an innocent about men and the art of making love. He picked up one of the wineglasses he'd brought out earlier. "You realize I'll take that as a challenge." He poured a glass of wine and offered it to her with a flourish. Her eyes widened, but she didn't respond. He could've sworn he saw the light of mischief ignite before she took the glass and averted her gaze. He smothered a grin as she murmured her thanks.

"Mac and I have known each other for many years." He filled his own glass. "How many?" she asked. "Hundreds." "What?" Fayne looked up and caught her startled glance.She doesn't know the truth... "Figure of speech," he lied smoothly. "We've known each other so long it sometimes seems like forever." He grabbed the fork and deftly turned the steaks over. "How old are you?" she asked, selecting a dinner roll. He knew better than to answer that truthfully. "How old do you think I am?" He set the fork down and picked up his glass, turning his attention to her. He watched as she applied the knife to the roll. She'd sliced it so neatly he wondered if she'd smuggled a T-square into the room while he wasn't watching. Methodically, she applied a layer of butter on one half. Starting from the center, she smoothed it completely to the edge, continuing until the surface was flawless. Erihn stopped fiddling with the butter and raised her eyes to his, her dark gaze sweeping over his face as she considered. "Maybe late twenties at the most." Fayne wasn't about to tell her she was off by several hundred years. "Close enough." Satisfied, she nodded and returned her attention to the roll. "So what do you do for a living?" Neatly, she nibbled on one edge, each bite tiny, precise. Fayne grew hard as he watched her lick butter from her lips. He cleared his throat. "Antiques and textiles." He shifted as his zipper dug into his erection. "Fabrics?" She popped the rest of the roll into her mouth; her eyes half-closed as if in ecstasy. A thin layer of butter coated her mouth and he stifled a groan. What he wouldn't give to be able to lick it off those untutored lips. He cleared his throat again. "I import fabrics for American retailers among other things." He watched as she picked up the other half of the roll and began buttering it. Once again, she smoothed butter over the shorn top, taking time to adjust here and add more there. She held it out, inspected it, frowned, then began smoothing again. "Are you going to eat that or take a picture?" he asked, amused. Erihn looked up and smiled. She turned her roll so he could see it better. "Is it not perfect?" "I wasn't aware one should strive for perfection in their food. Is it too perfect to eat?" "Of course I'm going to eat it, silly. I just wanted it to be perfect," she explained patiently as if he were a

dull-witted child. Fayne frowned. "Why does it have to be perfect?" He reached over and grabbed a roll. Tearing it in half, he dipped a piece into the melting container of butter. Raising it to his mouth, he said, "This is pretty much the same thing and I made it in half the time." "What does time have to do with it? Being in a hurry isn't always a virtue." Fayne caught her gaze, raising the bread to his lips. "I don't hurry through everything." He flicked out his tongue to lick a smudge of butter off the side of his roll before taking a bite. He enjoyed the way she stared at his mouth as a blush stained her cheeks. She glanced away. "I enjoy perfection." Fayne swallowed. "Perfection can be tedious." She frowned. "How so?" "What's the attraction to perfection?" "There's great beauty in symmetry." "In buildings, perhaps. Food, possibly. People, never." "How so?" She fiddled with her roll; her agitated movements betrayed her discontent with the subject. "People aren't supposed to be perfect, that's the beauty of being human. Making mistakes, eating too much cheesecake, having flaws and bad hair. There is perfection in imperfection." She frowned again. Fayne abandoned his roll in favor of rescuing their dinner from the fire. "In order for people to be interesting, they have tolive their lives. Where's the challenge in always making the right decisions, never making a mistake and never taking the road less traveled? What fun is that?" He offered her a plate filled with grilled steak and a baked potato. "That's called copping out." "When you make the right decisions and you strive for perfection, your life can be easier." "Who said that life is supposed to be easy?" Fayne picked up his steak knife and sliced into the steaming meat. "The only thing in life that should be perfect is steak, rare." He popped the meat into his mouth and growled, "Perfection." Erihn bent her head over her plate and applied herself to her dinner. He watched from the corner of his eye as she cut small bites, each one evenly square. They ate in companionable silence, then several minutes later she spoke. "But don't all men want the perfect woman?" Erihn's tone was perplexed. Fayne shook his head. "I don't think so. I've had many so-calledperfect women only to find they were gloss on the outside and empty on the inside. Where's the beauty in that? I want a woman who has substanceand soul. I also don't want a woman to be perfect for me;I want her to be perfect for herself. "

Her gaze was distant as she reached for her scarred cheek. Nimble fingers traced the narrow ridge before her expression turned hard. She dropped her hand away from her face. Silent now, she turned her attention to back to her steak, her expression unsettled. "Perfection is elusive, Erihn," he offered softly. "If that is what you seek, you'll find naught but emptiness and disappointment stretching before you." Fayne resisted the temptation to take her in his arms and kiss the lost look off her face. She looked at him, confusion written on every line of her face. If she only knew that her dreams were reflected in her eyes. He was filled with a sudden urge to be the one to turn some of those dreams into reality. The lights flickered. Bright light from the two floor lamps banished the darkness, leaving them exposed. Unease crept into her gaze and she abandoned her food with a clatter of silverware. Jerkily, she rose to her feet. "I fear I'm not as hungry as I first thought. I'll just take these into the kitchen and bid you good night." "Don't worry about it, I'll clean up." Fayne caught a faint sheen of tears in her eyes. He couldn't let her go like this. He rose from the pillows to follow her across the room. Her back was stiff as if she were afraid he was going to strike out at her. She paused at the bottom of the main stairs, turning to face him. Gone were the tears and before him stood the woman who showed only a mask to the world around her. Slowly, so as to give her time to move away, he raised his hand, tracing the scar down her cheek, along her jaw, ending as he brushed her bottom lip. "You see this scar as a lack of perfection. I see it as a mark of great strength, a badge of courage. Whether you realize it or not, Erihn, you are a warrior." Shock, then disbelief, colored her features as she gaped at him. Doubt warred with fear in her eyes before she turned away and ran up the stairs, her feet making very little sound as she made her escape.

The rain delayed him. Ivan Daniels parked his car in front of the Vail Lodge. It was well after 2 A.M. and the air held the clear, cold quality that only mountain air could contain. He gritted his teeth as he thought about the lost hours spent in Silverthorne. No matter now, he'd finally arrived in Vail Valley, and soon he'd have his long-awaited talk with Erihn Spencer about her immoral romance novels. As soon as they had their talk, Erihn would understand why she had to write the book he sought. The book that would bring his beloved Mary back to him. Ivan sighed at the thought of his missing wife. They'd been happy together for almost ten years until she'd read that abominableVelvet Lover book. Then everything had gone horribly awry. Now, he had the chance to change that and bring his wife back to where she belonged, in his arms.

Until then, he'd make himself at home and, after a good night's sleep, he'd set out to find Erihn and make her see the light. Smoothing his thinning hair back into place, he reached for the door lock.

Chapter 4 When did Jennifer get a cat? Disoriented, Erihn opened her eyes. Something large and warm lay along her back, and it purred. Definitely a cat. Erihn stirred and the purring paused. The animal wiggled against her as if it were annoyed at being disturbed before it stilled and the purring resumed. It certainly was nice waking up to something other than an alarm clock and an empty bed. She rubbed her eyes, wincing at how gritty and tired they felt. Between the storms, her little episode on the stairs, and Fayne's softly spoken words, she'd tossed and turned most of the night. Only when dawn lit the eastern sky did she manage to drift off to sleep. Erihn glanced at the blinking numbers on the face of the digital clock, and was relieved to see the electricity was still on. A sound suspiciously like a snore came from the purring bundle, then a twitch. Cautiously, Erihn turned her head to get a look at her nocturnal guest. Over her shoulder, all she could see was one reddish- brown paw stuck straight up in the air. Onehuge reddish-brown paw. No housecat could ever be that size. Adrenaline hit her system and her heartbeat accelerated. Could a wild animal have gotten into the house? She inched away from the sleeping creature until she clung to the edge of the bed. She slipped her feet over the edge and slid until her knees made contact with the floor. Only then did she turn so she could see her nighttime visitor. A massive cougar lay on its back in the middle of the snowy white linens, its face covered by a delicate lace pillow while its tail hung off the foot of the bed. The thick coat looked luxurious and soft as silk in the late morning light. Another snore sounded and the cat twitched, thick ridges of muscle rippling beneath the lush fur. Its front paw quivered as if it were stalking prey as it slept. It was possibly one of the most beautiful things she'd ever seen in her life. Of course, she would have preferred to see the cat in its natural habitat, not her bed. She glanced at the door leading into the hallway, then back at the sleeping animal, trying to determine if she could make it out of the room before it woke up. Then it rolled over. Erihn held her breath as it rolled toward her, its head popping out from under the pillow. Liquid gold eyes stared at her, pinning her with their intensity. She was afraid to move, to breathe. She was paralyzed with fear and an equal measure of awe.

The cat stretched out a paw, gently placing it atop her hand where she clutched the bedclothes. She tensed, waiting for razor sharp claws to dig into her vulnerable skin. The paw flexed and the rough pads caressed her hand. Her breath caught as its head dropped, its nose brushed her wrist, the whiskers tickling her. The cat removed its paw and its tongue came out and slurped the back of her hand. It was warm and rough. The cat nudged her hand as if asking to be petted. Tentative, Erihn turned her hand over and touched the thick fur of its muzzle. It felt like silk beneath her fingers. Gently, she ruffled the fur below the chin. Its head immediately came up and its eyes closed in ecstasy as it strained closer for more of the same. Erihn chuckled. "Aren't you just a big baby?" She scratched under the chin and worked around to scratch the back of the neck and the base of the ears. As she reached the warm fur under its left ear, claws extended and snagged the linens as the cat growled in complete submission. She stopped. "Hey, now, Jennifer will kill me if we destroy the sheets." Intelligent eyes opened and, as if it had understood her words, the cat retracted its claws. It leaned forward to lick her cheek, startling a laugh from her. She threaded her fingers through the rich fur around its neck. "Well, I like you, too." She stroked under the cougar's chin again, and her fingers struck something hard. She frowned as she located a narrow band of amethysts around the cat's neck. The stones glowed warmly, reminding her of Fayne's dark eyes. "So, you're domesticated, my friend. I suspected as much." She laughed as the cat ducked its head and rolled onto its back, exposing its belly. "And spoiled, too." As she rubbed its belly, luxuriating in the feel of warm fur beneath her hand, the cat purred loudly, waving all four paws in the air. "What a good," she paused to check its sex, "boy you are." Slit golden eyes gleamed as if the cat were amused. "So, who do you belong to?" She drew a lazy figure eight on one side of the cat's ribcage. "One of the neighbors? Maybe you're a rogue circus performer? Or do you belong to Fayne? He strikes me as a cat person." At the sound of Fayne's name, the cat raised its head and looked directly at her. "Aha, mystery solved. You must belong to Fayne." Erihn frowned. "It fits, I suppose. I certainly can't see him with a dog for a pet." The cat made a sound as if in agreement and Erihn giggled with delight. "Well, now that I've determined you're a domesticated kitty..." The cat gave her a baleful look before closing its eyes once again. "I need to take a shower." Giving the cat one more quick rub behind the ear, she rose and walked into the bathroom. Large windows that overlooked the valley surrounded a spacious garden tub. Jennifer owned most of the acreage within walking distance of the house; consequently she didn't feel the need for curtains in her bathroom. As Erihn mounted the steps to the tub, a breeze blew past her legs. Startled, she watched the cat run up the steps to the tub. Delicately, it walked along the ledge, careful foot placement ensuring the

bottles of bath oil, crystals, and seashells were undisturbed. "Are you going to take a bath with me?" The cat gave a rude snort and Erihn smiled. "I guess not." She reached for the water controls and turned them on, adjusting them until she got the correct temperature, then turned on the shower. The moment she moved away from the knobs, a big paw reached over and popped the drain plunger, plugging the tub and turning the shower off. Water flooded into the bathtub instead. Erihn frowned at the cat only to see that he wasn't paying attention to her. Sniffing at the bottles of oil, he moved down the row until he selected one. Unsheathing a claw, he snagged the cork from the bottle and tossed it aside. With the flick of a paw, he then knocked the bottle into the water. "Hey, now!" Erihn dove for the bottle, rescuing it before the contents flooded the tub. "This is enough oil for a dozen baths, smarty-pants," she admonished. She located the cork and replaced the bottle on the edge of the tub. "So, I guess I'm taking a bath, now?" The cat settled himself into the sunny corner ledge, and, if Erihn didn't know better, she could swear it smirked at her. She shook her head. No doubt about it, she was overwrought and imagining things. She shook her head and turned toward the vanity. A collection of hairpins and barrettes resided in a glass bowl. Selecting one, she grabbed her mass of heavy hair and clipped it onto the top of her head with a bright pink alligator clip. Stacked on her head, her hair felt absurdly heavy. Maybe she should think of trimming it a bit. Her hands stilled. She was in her mid-thirties. Was it odd to keep her long, heavy hair? Hadn't Mel told her that, as women got older, they should go shorter? Erihn stared at her face in the mirror as if she were suddenly seeing a stranger. How long had it been since she'd really looked at herself? She usually looked long enough to get dressed in the mornings, but she never really stopped andlooked at herself. Dark eyes, shadowed by a restless night, stared at her. She unbuttoned her simple cotton sleep shirt, exposing more of her pale skin. She frowned. Maybe she should lie in the sun while she was here. She usually avoided the sun since she had a tendency to burn; consequently, she looked as white as a fish belly most of the year. She dropped the shirt to the floor and stared at her naked body for the first time in years. At one time she'd known she was beautiful. At the age of sixteen, she'd been a runway model in New York when an up and coming designer, Serena Del Toro, saw her at a show. Captured by Erihn's coltish legs and fine bones, Serena made her the first Del Toro model. Erihn had then worked exclusively for the Del Toro house until she'd been kidnapped while on location in Central Park. Her entire life had been shattered in that instant. Erihn's hand drifted to the scar that began just below her sternum. Now faded to a silvery sheen, the narrow line cut a path across her skin to curve beneath her left breast. She moved her hand down her stomach where another scar ran from just right of her belly button. With trembling fingers, she followed the path of the scar curving across her abdomen and ending at her hip. He'd left her for dead.

She'd never understood why he'd chosen her as his last victim. The police had never determined a motive for any of the women he'd abducted. Since Chapman had decided death was preferable to being taken alive, they'd never gotten the answers they'd sought. With the police battering at the cellar door, he'd blown his brains out less then three feet away from her after attempting to kill her. Tears stung her eyes and she closed them, shutting out the image of her imperfection. Fayne thought he wanted her, but if he saw she was damaged goods, he'd run as far and as fast as he could, just as any other man would. She opened her eyes and stared at her reflection. She was the only one who'd survived Chapman's nightmare to tell about it. So many wasted years, so many wasted lives. She turned to find the cat watching her. Stretched out on the edge of the tub, it's golden eyes flicked over her and Erihn felt a moment of self-consciousness. She had to force herself not to cover her nudity in front of the cat. Like he'd cringe from her scars. She grinned and picked up a washcloth and two towels and placed them within easy reach of the tub. She walked up the steps and to the bathtub, lowering herself into the water. Warmth surrounded her and the scent of rose geranium teased her nose as she settled into the cloud of bubbles. She reached out with her toes and turned the water off. The cat rose and moved around the tub to settle behind her, its warm belly supporting the back of her head. She giggled as the cat nuzzled her throat. "That tickles." The cat brushed its whiskers against her shoulder and she cupped some warm water in her palm and splashed it at him. The cat moved its head away to avoid getting wet, then returned, this time slipping a rough tongue across the nape of her neck. Erihn flicked more water at the cat. He away back and fixed her with an offended stare. "I'm so sorry, your highness," she teased. She removed the water droplets from his whiskers. Its tongue flicked over her palm, startling her. She smiled as the cat purred loudly. Settling her head against his warm belly, silence wrapped around her like a cloak. With a satisfied hum, Erihn closed her eyes. There was something sensual and infinitely soothing about taking a bath. Unfortunately, with her hectic schedule, taking a leisurely bath was a novelty. She picked up her washcloth and a large bar of rose soap from a dish. After dampening the cloth, she added the soap and worked it into a lather, enjoying its rich floral scent. She drew the soapy cloth over her throat, acutely aware of the sensuality of the movement. The sound of the saturated cotton moving over her skin, the soft bubbles, the fragrance of the bath oil, and the lulling purr of the cat behind her soothed her in a way she'd never felt before. She drew the cloth down her throat to her chest before slipping it beneath the water. Lightly she brushed the cloth over the tip of her breast, aware as never before of her body and its reactions. She cupped her breast, feeling its weight buoyed by the water. She brushed her thumb over the burgeoning tip and her breath hissed through her teeth. She gave her nipple an experimental tug as the cat stirred, brushing its muzzle against her shoulder as if to encourage her explorations. She allowed her washcloth-covered hand to drift lower. Soft curls gave way as she cupped her mound and a thrill of naughtiness flowed through her limbs. Spreading her thighs, she breached the tender folds and brushed a finger over her delicate inner lips, parting them. A quiver of delight rushed through her body as her fingertip grazed the sensitive nub. Never had she indulged in such sensuous play, she'd been too reserved, her upbringing too stringent and her kidnapping too traumatic to even think of such a thing.

Wouldn't her readers be shocked to know that she'd never even experienced an orgasm? Erihn drew her knees closer to her body and parted her thighs further. Waves of sensation rippled through her nervous system as she settled into a slow, rhythmic caress. Her hips rocked with each stroke, her breathing deeper as she imagined Fayne's hands on her body, caressing her to fulfillment. Fayne? Stunned, she stopped the sensual movement and her eyes flew open. What was she thinking? Erihn raised one trembling hand to her face. Her skin felt warm, alien beneath her touch. How could she have behaved in such a shameless fashion? It was one thing to write about it in one of her books, it was another to act a wanton fantasy out. What had come over her? Erihn scrambled out of the bathtub, her hands trembling as she reached for the stack of colored towels. She caught sight of her face in the mirror and was shocked at how rosy and vibrant her skin appeared, her eyes bright, her cheeks flushed. She had the look of an aroused woman. She was startled when the cat nudged her hand, seeking her attention. It stood beside her, watching her with its golden eyes. "I'm so confused," she whispered. The Erihn she'd known for the past seventeen years was no more. In her place was a stranger filled with a maelstrom of physical desires. She swallowed. It was unnerving to face this reckless woman in the mirror. The cat nuzzled her palm, purring contentedly. Its warm body leaned against her leg as if to assure her she wasn't alone. She sank to her heels and wound her arms around the animal, taking comfort from the warmth and strength of him. Several moments passed, the cat passive against her. Then the purring stopped and its muscles tensed as the cat went still, silent. Erihn raised her head and frowned, looking to where the cat's gaze was trained on the doorway leading into the bedroom. Was it Fayne? Was he coming up the steps? She released the cat and, before she could rise, the cat sprang. Clearing the doorway, it streaked into the bedroom. She heard the cat's large paws thudding down the steps. She scrambled to her feet and pulled the clip from her hair, allowing the heavy weight to tumble down her back. Erihn tiptoed into the bedroom. Scanning the room, she saw nothing amiss. Her open suitcase lay on the chaise, and she walked over to dig out something practical to wear for the long drive back to the airport. Depression made her limbs leaden as she pulled out a gray cashmere skirt. Her fingertips caressing the heavy, sensual texture of the garment, she had the odd thought that her body felt more alive and aware than ever before. She drew the skirt on, luxuriating in the sinful feel of the soft knit against her bare backside. Reaching for her cotton underwear, she hesitated. No one would know if she didn't put any on, would they? And, maybe, she'd forego her bra also... Finding a black angora sweater, she pulled it on, luxuriating in the soft weave against her bare breasts. Lace-trimmed anklets and supple suede ankle boots completed her ensemble.

Never in her life had she felt more naughty, more shameless. The house was silent as she exited the bedroom, the faint scent of wood smoke lingering in the air. She padded down the steps and walked down the hall to peer into the living room. The mound of pillows remained on the floor before the smoldering embers in the fireplace. She glanced away, not wanting to remember Fayne's words of last night. A peculiar thudding sound, coming from the front of the house, reached her ears. Frowning, she walked to the front door. As she threw it open, a yelp of dismay escaped her at the sight before her eyes. Halfway up the drive lay a massive pile of rubble blocking the gravel lane. A giant pine tree lay mixed in the rubble of earth and rocks, its roots clawing for the air. There was no way she'd get a car out of the drive anytime soon.

Fayne knew the moment Erihn opened the front door. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he felt her gaze sweep his skin. He stood among the tree branches on the far side of the drive, an ax in his hand as he methodically lopped off the branches, tossing them into an expanding pile. Shirtless in the cool air, he was coated in sweat and pine pitch. Not exactly proper attire to impress and seduce a skittish young woman. Her boots crunched in the gravel as she advanced toward him. He slammed the ax into the tree then turned; his breath left his lungs. Her knit skirt clung like a second skin to her long limbs, delineating strong thighs and curvy hips. Her breasts swayed with each movement beneath her black sweater. Her long dark hair was down and it hung heavily over her shoulders like a thick brown pelt. He wondered if she knew exactly how much her clothing revealed to his gaze. He ground his teeth as a rush of lust hit his groin. This wasnot the time to get an erection. His sweat pants might be baggy, but they weren't capable of hiding anything of that nature. He forced himself to breathe normally as she stopped a few scant feet from the mess. "This was such a beautiful tree," Erihn mourned. "This beautiful tree will prevent you from making your escape," he said, his tone wry. She blushed then surprised him by meeting his gaze. "You probably think I'm a fool," she said. Fayne leaned against the tree trunk, shaking his head as he spoke. "I don't think you're a fool, Erihn. I think your experiences have made you distrust men and that's understandable. I want you to know we aren't all the same." She recoiled, shock written on her face. Her hand fluttered, coming to rest in the center of her chest. He saw the desire to believe flicker in her eyes. She wanted to believe in his words. He had her teetering on the edge of a whole new world. All he had to do was coax her into taking the leap of faith that all humans faced sooner or later. "I don't think..."

"Yes, you do, Erihn. You believe all men can and will hurt you and that isn't so. If you want to lie to me and say you don't think all men are capable of this, then fine. Lie. But don't deceive yourself." "Why are you doing this to me?" she whispered, her lips trembled as if she were going to cry. A mild feeling of panic fluttered in Fayne's gut. He hated it when a woman cried; he never quite knew what to do when that happened. But, if he didn't push her, she'd retreat again and that he couldn't have. "Why are you fighting me so?' "You frighten me," she murmured quietly, moving back from him. Frustration surged forth and Fayne pushed off from the tree. Reaching forward, he caught her wrist. Her pulse beat wildly beneath his thumb, and he smelled desire on her skin. Since the moment he'd set eyes on her, he'd alternated between exhilaration and terror. She was the most fascinating and repressed woman he'd ever met but today, there was something different about her. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on. He pulled her into his arms, his fingers twining in the thick hair at the base of her skull. "Welcome to the club," he whispered before he claimed her mouth. The taste of her exploded through his body. The essence of mint and warm woman tore through his resistance, setting his cock on full alert. Pulling her body into the curve of his, he relished the feel of her supple limbs, the heavy silk of her hair and the floral essence that clung to her skin. Never had he wanted a woman as much as he wanted this one. He wanted to shout with joy as her hands skimmed his side before her arms curled around his back, fingers splaying outward across his spine to cling to him. Her tongue tangled with his, tentative, shy in her hesitant movements. Patient, he showed her how to kiss him, how to tease, tempt, seduce, and how to drive him to the edge of madness. In moments, he learned she was a quick study as she caught his tongue and gently sucked, mimicking his movements expertly. A feral growl erupted from his chest as a surge of lust slammed into him. Within seconds, he was hard as a rock, need hammering at his body. He skimmed his hand down her back, desperate to feel her skin. Slipping a hand beneath her sweater, he zeroed in on the center of her lower back. Gently, he stroked her with feather-light touches. He was rewarded with a strangled sigh as she lunged against him, sending him stumbling into the tree trunk. Her unbound breasts, pressed against him, felt like heaven. Stroking his hand around and up her side, he bypassed her ribcage to cup her breast, his thumb teasing her taut tip. He swallowed her moan as he plumped her breast in the palm of his hand. He needed to taste her skin. He broke the kiss, his breath screaming into his lungs as he watched her eyelids flutter. Her lips swollen and her eyes dilated with passion, she looked at him, her expression confused. He wanted her to see what he was about to do. Slowly, so she could follow every movement, he raised her sweater, baring her breast to the elements and his gaze. The aureole was a pale brown, her nipple hard in the cool air, reaching for him as if begging for his touch. Her skin was so fair he could trace the delicate veins. Just looking at her made his mouth water.

Keeping an eye on her face, he lowered his head and licked the very tip. She quivered in his arms as a soft squeak erupted from her. Licking around the edge of the aureole in tight little swipes, her fingers tightened on his back. She moved her right hand up and twined in his hair as if to guide him to her, but he refused to be rushed. Some things in life were meant to be savored, and worshipping a woman's body was one of them. The scent of her bath oil clouded his senses as he nipped and kissed her breast, pausing every now and then to lap at the tip. "Please." Her voice was breathless, pleading. A surge of triumph raced through him as he dipped his head and took her into his mouth. Fingers tightened in his hair as he suckled her, laving her nipple, rolling it between his tongue and the roof of his mouth. He slid his hands down to her hips, cupping her, pressing her against his cock. Releasing the succulent morsel, he pressed kisses down the slope of her breast, urgency riding low in his belly. Nosing her sweater aside, he nuzzled the newly revealed flesh. His lips brushed over a hard narrow ridge and he paused. Pulling away, his gaze traced the scar that ran from the center of her chest under her left breast. Erihn froze in his arms. Aware of her stillness, he pressed a kiss to the very tip of the scar, his tongue stealing out to taste the ridge. Quick as a cat, she wrenched herself from his arms. He caught a glimpse of her shattered expression as she spun and ran for the house. Frustration zinging through his blood, Fayne rubbed a hand through his hair. Every time he thought he was making progress, something happened to slam the door shut. His breath huffed out as he watched her retreating figure run back to the house. He decided let her go. This time.

It's almost time. Max froze, his fingers tightening around the handle of the trowel. Who said that? He glanced around, seeing no one nearby except for Bliss and Stuart, the dig foreman, deep in conversation many feet away. He stuck his trowel into the rich earth before releasing the handle. Mentally, he pulled inward and formed a question to offer to the universe. Time for what? A hot breath of wind swooped out of nowhere, stirring the powder-fine dirt before him and caused him to blink rapidly as the voice came again. Prepare yourself...

Chapter 5 Erihn walked from the gloom of the library, clutching research papers and books to her chest. The late afternoon sunshine hit her full in the face as she entered the living room and she squeaked in annoyance. She turned her head away from the glare and an unfamiliar sight met her gaze. An old milk glass vase graced the center of the coffee table, filled with Indian paintbrush, columbines, and fresh sage. It hadn't been there when she'd gone into the library a few hours earlier. "I was wondering when you were going to wake up." She blinked owlishly, trying to clear the sleep from her eyes. She saw Fayne standing at the foot of the couch in his bare-chested glory. Low-slung jeans clung to his narrow hips, and one hand lay over his heart, lazily scratching as if he liked the sensation of his fingernails in the light fur on his chest. He was beautiful. A delicious thrill of awareness and apprehension danced along her nerves. She wanted to run her fingers through his hair, to have him look at her with passion in his eyes as he had earlier. She also wanted to run away and avoid him for the next ten years. He frowned. "Are you okay? You have an odd look on your face." Erihn nodded. "I'm fine." She gave him a wide berth as she stumbled to the coffee table to deposit her load when a book slipped, dislodging papers and the were-cat diary from her arms. She and Fayne both dove for the diary, their hands colliding on the worn leather binding. "Sorry," she mumbled as he released the book. "That's a very old book," he observed. "Mid-eighteenth century. It's in remarkable condition." Erihn secured the book in a narrow wooden box lined with velvet before slipping it into her voluminous handbag, which was sitting by the coffee table. "It's a diary I'm using to research my next book." "Really? Jennifer said you're her favorite novelist. How many have you written?" She blushed. "She's just being nice. The one I'm working on now will make number twenty." Fayne whistled. "Quite impressive. I'm assuming Jennifer has copies of your books?" He scooped the notebook and some papers off the floor, handing them to her without even glancing at her neat handwriting. She nodded toward the shelves. "They're over there on the shelf, next to the CD player." Erihn sat on the couch and arranged her notes as he walked to the shelves. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as he perused the titles. "Which one is your latest title?" "Velvet Lover." She placed note pages into their appropriate folders, then rose in time to see him pluck the book off the shelf. "What are you doing?"

He turned, the paperback was small in his big hand. "I want to read it." Erihn blushed and shook her head. "You really don't need to..." "Sure I do. It isn't everyday I get to meet a famous writer." She laughed. "I'm hardly famous." "According to the back of the book you are." He glanced at the cover. "Award- winning and best-selling. It says so right here. Jennifer said this book is hot stuff." His smile was huge and his eyes sparkled with laughter. He was actually enjoying her discomfort. She couldn't help but return his smile. "Maybe you'll need pot holders when you read it, then." The laughter in his eyes faded, changing to a smoldering look that made her shiver. Curse her rampant tongue! She fought the urge to flee from his heated gaze. "Maybe I will." Erihn cleared her throat and changed the subject. "I met your cat this morning." Fayne smiled, a mysterious twinkle lit his eye. "You did? I hope he didn't frighten you." "It was a bit shocking to find him sprawled in my bed." "In your bed?" An odd little smile played about his lips as he shook his head. "I thought I taught him better than that. What did you think of him?" "He's amazing," she breathed. "And beautiful. I've never seen anything like him. Where did you get him?" "He was a gift from a friend and he's very dear to me." He grinned. "You might say he's a part of me now. Maybe I'll let him out later for you to play with." "Where do you keep him?" "Oh here and there. During the day, he sleeps, but when night falls, he likes to prowl." Erihn shivered. "Does he hunt or do you have to feed him?" "A little of both, but don't worry," his voice grew husky. "He won't bite, unless you ask him nicely." She shivered as a vision of Fayne nibbling on her skin invaded her senses. She shook her head and cleared her throat. "Speaking of dinner..." "Right, dinner. It's ready, so go freshen up, and I'll be out front." "Out front? I thought we couldn't get off the mountain." "We aren't going down the mountain, we're going up." He grinned. Dropping the paperback on the top

step leading to the basement guestroom, he walked toward the kitchen. "Where are we going?" she asked. "You'll see," he called over his shoulder. Erihn scrambled up the steps and down the hall into the first floor bathroom to freshen up. After splashing water on her face, she was startled at the excitement in her eyes reflected in the mirror. No doubt about it, she was crazed. But isn't it fun? Swallowing a wild giggle, she gave her hair a quick finger combing before exiting the house. She took a deep breath of the fresh air as she stepped out into the fading light. Leafy trees shrouded the drive and front of the house in a cool green light. She walked to the drive, curious to see what he was up to. "Are we going to walk..." Her voice trailed off as she saw what he was standing next to. A Harley Davidson motorcycle leaned on its kickstand in the drive. All gleaming chrome and black enamel paint, it looked lethal, sexy, as did its owner. Fayne had donned a T-shirt and a black leather jacket over his jeans and heavy black boots. A black leather backpack sat at his feet. "I can't ride that," she stammered. "Sure you can. Jennifer loves to ride with me." He picked up another jacket from the seat and offered it to her. "I assure you it's completely safe." Erihn bit her lip. She wanted to go, but the thought of being in close proximity to this man made her throat constrict. Was it fear or desire? She wasn't sure if she knew anymore. He walked to her and slung the jacket around her shoulders. It was much smaller than his and could only be Jennifer's. The scent of leather surrounded her as he helped her into the sleeves. "You'll need to wear the backpack. It has our dinner in it." "I..." Before she could voice another objection, he had the backpack secured over her shoulders and was walking toward the bike. Swinging a leg over, he turned and looked at her expectantly. She stared at the bike with longing as she gnawed on her bottom lip. What would it hurt to take a ride with him? He said Jennifer rode with him, so surely it was safe. She'd love to feel the wind rushing through her hair; she released her bottom lip and squared her shoulders. He smiled as she stepped hesitantly toward him and her heart gave a silly little flip. "Where do I put my feet?" Fayne pointed to a metal rod. "Put your foot on the peg and swing yourself over like you would a horse." "Maybe I need to change into a pair of pants." Erihn glanced at her skirt. "This isn't very practical for riding a motorcycle."

He frowned at the skirt, then climbed off the bike. "I have an idea." He vanished into the garage and, within seconds, he returned with something black in his hands. He grinned and held up the black leather apparel. "Chaps." She blinked. "Chaps?" "Sure. This goes around your waist." He undid the buckle and looped the belt around her waist before securing it. The leather flaps hung free, covering the front of her skirt. "Then this," he dropped to his knees and she yelped as a strong hand skimmed the inside of her calf before nudging her skirt up, "ties here." Erihn looked down as he tied the laces around the back of her knee. She quivered as his warm hands brushed her overheated skin, sending tingles of awareness rocketing to her lower abdomen. She closed her eyes. "Then there's one more thing..." Her eyes flew open and she gave a squeak as his strong fingers skimmed the inside of her thighs. Pushing her skirt up further, he reached for the top set of ties. I'm not wearing any underwear!Erihn blushed. Thank goodness the chaps were too big and the ties didn't sit right below her butt-cheeks where they should have been. He would've gotten an eyeful, or a handful, then. "Okay, we're ready to go." Fayne got to his feet and ambled over to the bike, swinging his leg over easily. He turned the key before gripping the handlebars. With a practiced motion, he started the bike with a roar shattered the stillness. She backed up. "It might be easier if I changed first," she yelled. His smile was sly, "Not as much fun, though." She swallowed, "I really need to..." His brow lifted. "Afraid?" She stiffened her spine as her gaze narrowed. "I most certainly am not." Marching to the bike, she stepped onto the peg and tossed her leg over like pro. The chaps gave her freedom of movement as her knees brushed the side of his hips when she sat. "See?" she said smugly. "I told you I wasn't afraid." Fayne chuckled and reached back, cupping his hands around the backs of her leather-clad knees. "You need to sit a lot closer than that." He tugged and Erihn squeaked as her skirt rode up, just short of exposing herself, and her body came into full contact with his. She put her hands against his back to try and get some space between them. "Quit fidgeting. You're fine. Now put your arms around my waist." "Easy for you to say," she mumbled. She felt terribly vulnerable, thanks to her wretched skirt. Never again would she go without underwear.

Deciding that she couldn't do anything about the skirt short of changing it and he didn't seem to want to allow her to do that, she laid her hands lightly on his waist. She'd have to make sure she got off the bike first so he couldn't see her dilemma. She gasped when he caught her hands and pulled them around his body, placing them flat on his tight stomach. Erihn was plastered against his back like a limpet. As he put it in gear and let out the clutch, she clung to him, certain they'd fall off at any moment. She felt his chest rumble as he laughed at her reaction. He chose a path through the side yard, through what Jennifer called the wilderness. He drove slowly, the path narrow and damp from the summer of excessive rain. They wove around trees and thickets, over little hills and ridges, heading ever higher. They forded a small runoff with little fuss and some splashing of the chilly rainwater. Erihn caught her breath as she saw the valley through a break in the trees. The sun was sinking ever lower, painting the valley in gold and bluish shadows. She clung to Fayne as he hit a sharply vertical patch before they crested the ridge, coming out on the gravel road above the house. Narrow and twisting, the old logging road had been shut down after Jennifer bought the land. Now in disuse, the weeds and wilderness were slowly reclaiming the scars wrought by mankind. He followed the road, ever climbing upward. She relaxed her grip and enjoyed the ride. The air rushing through her hair gave her a feeling of freedom; similar to standing outside in the storm last night. A feeling of recklessness descended upon her. The combination of the vibration of the motorcycle and the presence of Fayne sitting between her thighs made her giddy. The scent of leather and warm male tinged faintly with pine pitch ignited a spark of desire low in her belly. Her cheeks burned as she mentally chastised herself. She had to stop thinking like some shameless hussy. It was one thing to fantasize about a character in a book; it was another thing to fantasize about a living, breathing man. The road leveled out and Fayne increased speed as the gravel gave way to a wide dirt path. The path ran along the ridge, giving a breathtaking view of the mountain peaks and Castle Rock, a massive lava formation in the distance. Erihn flattened her hand on his stomach. Now covered by his T-shirt, muscles played beneath her palm. Tentatively, she shifted her hand, following the ridge of muscle up toward his chest. Fayne's hand covered hers and, for a second, her heart stopped. He moved her hand to cover his heart, the thud comforting beneath her palm. Tears stung her eyes as she leaned her cheek against his back.

Ivan scowled as he applied the brake. The twisting paved road leading to the Beaumont house had been an easy drive until he reached the scene of the mudslide. Bright yellow backhoes gnawed at the mass of rubble like little ants. Men in hard hats stood around, shouting directions. As he came to a stop, a man dressed in coveralls, plaid shirt, and a hard-hat approached him. Ivan admired a man who wasn't afraid to put in a hard day's work. The working man was the foundation of American society, even though the upper classes thought differently.

Pasting a pleasant smile on his face, he rolled the window down, allowing fresh air to flood the cabin of the car. "Looks like you've got some trouble," Ivan said pleasantly. "Sure do. The storm last night caused quite a landslide. We've had a pretty wet summer around here." "I'm headed up to the Beaumont place. Can you tell me when this will be cleared?" "Sure thing, it'll be at least another day, possibly two, before you can get up there. They had some trouble with a small slide in the drive also." Ivan felt a jolt of alarm. "No one was hurt, were they?" The man shook his head. "I spoke to the house-sitter and he said no one was hurt, just made a big mess up there." "He?" Ivan paused. Had Erihn taken someone up there with her? "Yeah, don't remember his name, though. It was something odd." A wary look crossed the man's face. "I didn't catch your name." "Bob Taylor," he lied smoothly. He nodded to the muddy mess in front of him." You keep up the good work now, you hear?" The man stepped away from the car as Ivan put it in gear. Maneuvering carefully, he backed the car to a wide space and turned the rented Buick around. Waving at the man, he started back down the mountain, seething inside. First, there'd been the horrendous hassle of finding out her real name. It'd cost him a pretty penny-not to mention the bribe to the editor's assistant to find out exactly where Erihn was going to do her research. The stupid cow had eaten a fortune in food, at Manhattan prices no less. And, to top it all off, the stupid woman really thought he was Erihn's brother! Next, there'd been the delay due to the storm and, now, to hear she'd shacked up with someman. He'd counted on Erihn being alone at the house. How dare she shack up with some gigolo? Women were whores... all of them. This certainly put a kink in his plans. He dropped his hand to his side and patted the gun strapped in the shoulder holster. Never mind. Regardless of this unexpected wrinkle, he'd handle it as he had everything before. It was important that he didn't forget the final prize, his wife returning to him. Soon, his beloved Mary would be back with him where she belonged.

Erihn bent to grab the edge of the blanket and hiccupped. Clamping a hand over her mouth, she gave Fayne a mock glare as he laughed. "Sir, don't you realize it isn't nice to laugh at a lady?"

He swept a low bow, grabbing the blanket on the way up. "Milady, truly I am sorry for offending thee. However," he grinned, "you aren't much of a drinker." She laughed. "Both Jennifer and Shai can validate that. I used to be quite a good drinker, but I find I don't recover as well as I used to." He tucked the blanket into the backpack along with their used picnic supplies. The sun was setting as they finished stowing everything. "I have a secret for you. Neither am I." He secured the top of the pack and held out his hand. "Mac has drunk me under the table quite a few times. He says I'm a cheap date." She smiled and slipped her hand into his. Their little picnic had gone a long way to setting her mind at ease. In the past hour, they'd chatted about everything. Their jobs, how they had nothing in common, their favorite movies and how they both loved action adventure movies, and their mutual love for their friends. Fayne also had a deliciously wicked sense of humor. They walked back to the bike in companionable silence, her discarded chaps draped over a nearby rock. He dropped the pack near the bike and propped himself against the seat. He nodded toward the west and she released his hand and turned to watch. The sky was streaked crimson and orange, accented with pink. As the minutes passed, the colors shifted, becoming more brilliant as the blues and violets made themselves known. It was a glorious display. He captured her elbow and, with a modicum of effort, he tugged her into his arms. She leaned into him, her back to his chest, her feet bracketing his. His arms wound about her waist as warm lips brushed her ear and a trill of desire ran down her spine. "Watch," he breathed. "Here they come." Two golden cougars stepped out of the woods and onto a large flat rock less than fifty yards away from where they stood. Stretching on the sun-warmed surface, one began nuzzling and cuddling the other. Using its massive paws, the dominant one held the other in place and washed its face. The setting sun turned their coats to golden fire. Erihn held her breath. "Are we safe?" His lips brushed her neck and shivers raced over her skin. "Quite." His teeth brushed the curve of her neck and her body leapt to attention. Delicate hairs stood on end as her nipples hardened. A sigh escaped her as he brushed her hair out of the way and caressed the back of her neck. She needed to taste him. She twisted in his arms. Thrown off by the curved position of his body, she sprawled against him, unable to support herself, his breath warm on her skin. Those violet eyes were hot with need as he looked at her, as if awaiting her next command.

She tilted her head back, her hand creeping to twine in his thick hair. A jolt of unease moved down her spine. Was she about to take that final, irrevocable step? She hesitated, looking away from him. "Don't be afraid," he whispered. "I can't help it," she wavered. He nodded. "Just tell me what you want, what you desire." She swallowed and met his gaze. "Kiss me." A lazy smile touched his sensual lips, igniting a low throb at the center of her thighs. Erihn stifled a groan. "Your wish is my command." He dipped his head and took her. It wasn't a slow kiss. It was deep, hot and carnal. She softened against him, leaning into his strength as she gave as good as she got. Their tongues tangled in a sensual game of cat and mouse as they licked and sucked at each other's mouths. A soft moan escaped her when his hand slipped beneath her open jacket and cupped her breast, tweaking her nipple through her sweater. Fayne broke the kiss, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. Erihn looked deep into his eyes. The setting sun cast shards of gold in his eyes, a striking combination of cool violet and molten fire. Tightening his arms around her waist, he plucked her off her feet. Swinging his leg over the bike, he spread her thighs and settled her on top of him so she straddled him. Erihn gave a squeak as her skirt slid up, all but baring herself to him. Beneath her, his arousal was unmistakable. He guided her feet to the pegs and Erihn tensed, pushing against them as if to stand up, sliding against him, the delicate flesh between her thighs grazing his engorged fly. A low groan escaped him and she paused. His helpless sound triggered a river of desire that flowed hot and heavy through her veins. Startled, she grasped his shoulders and sank again, stroking him with her nether lips. He tossed his head back, his eyes closed as an animal hiss escaped him. Filled with a power the likes of which she'd never known, she shifted upward again, grinding their lower bodies together. She felt him growing, lengthening beneath her. Fayne's arms tightened and he hugged her to him. He arched his hips and leaned back until she was completely open against him. His eyes opened as his hands dropped to her knees. Erihn sighed when his hands skimmed her thighs, pushing her skirt up, baring her to his view. Pressed tight against his 501s, she couldn't decide whether to be terrified or turned on by what was happening. He gave her a tight smile, then bucked beneath her. A rush of desire tingled through her limbs, forcing her to catch her breath as instinct took over. Pressing into him, she tensed her thighs and rose a few inches, her heightened nerve endings screaming with ecstasy at the delicious sensations caused by their friction. With his help, she set an even rhythm. "That's my girl," he hissed. "Slow and easy." Erihn released her death grip on his jacket and settled her hands on his shoulders. Rocking against him,

she delighted in the waves of lust rolling through her body to pool at the apex of her thighs. Fayne's eyes were half-closed and he watched her ride him. Adding a little shimmy on the down stroke, she wrenched a groan from him. "You're killing me," he hissed. She licked her lips and a line from one of her books popped into her mind. "You'll die with a smile..." Erihn arched into him, her breath rasping in her lungs as he bucked beneath her, urging her to go faster. His eyes widened, a wicked smile on those sexy lips sending a jolt to the crest of her thighs. "Only if you go first." He slipped his hand between their thighs, one blunt- tipped finger centering on a certain spot, rubbing in a tight figure eight. Her movements became jerky as she strained for the peak he offered. "I wanted to go slow," she protested breathlessly. "Darlin', there's more where this came from," he purred. Desire coiled low in her belly as he sat upright, bringing her into more direct contact with his hand. He picked up the rhythm of her body as she rocked against him, ever more frantic to reach the pinnacle. Then, with a single stroke, he sent her over. Her body contracted against his palm. Head thrown back, she screamed her satisfaction to the wilderness as tremors shook her. Stars swirled behind her eyelids, leaving her dizzy and breathless. She sagged against his chest, clutching his shoulders. As she calmed, her heartbeat slowed, and, once again, she became aware of him, rock-hard beneath her. She straightened and looked him, both awed and frightened by the tenderness in his gaze. No man had ever looked at her like that. She pressed her lower body against him. "I think you're next," she breathed. "I think..." She stopped his flow of words with her mouth by brushing a quick kiss across his lips. "You think too much." She put his hands on her waist and, without words, asked him to show her what to do. Under his tutelage, she moved against him, increasing her speed until he strained beneath her. A hoarse cry was torn from him and he tensed, his body hot and trembling underneath her hands as he clutched her to him. Aftershocks from his violent orgasm sang through her, setting off an answering release in her body. For a second time, she cried out her satisfaction. As she calmed once again, she settled against his chest, listening to his heart thunder beneath her ear. Minutes later, when she finally could rouse herself to move she noticed the sun had set, the cougars long gone. The air chilled her bare backside. "We should go," she whispered.

Fayne gave her a hug. "Probably a good idea." Erihn awkwardly scrambled off, trying to retain some modesty even though she'd just ridden him like a woman possessed. Flushing with embarrassment, she snatched up her chaps. With fumbling fingers, she put them on, torn between wanting to hurry and having him assist her. She stifled a groan at the thought of his fingers on her flesh once more. He stepped forward and helped her strap the pack on her back as she struggled to think of something to say to break the awkward silence. She couldn't think of anything. "Ready?" he asked. She nodded mutely. "I forgot something." Erihn looked around and didn't see anything amiss. "What?" He captured her chin and forced her to look at him directly in the eyes. "This." He lowered his head, his lips touching hers in a gentle kiss that brought tears to her eyes. Releasing her, he stroked a finger down her throat as if he were reluctant to quit touching her. He turned and climbed on the bike, then held out his hand for her to join him. Her heart gave a quiver as he smiled encouragingly. Slipping her hand into his, she straddled the bike with more confidence than before. Settling on the seat, she cuddled against his back, aligning her thighs tightly with his, savoring the warmth that emanated from his body. He started the bike, then set off into the night, their pace slow. The darkening sky and the glowing brilliance of the stars mesmerized Erihn as she tipped her head back for a better view. The sky in Colorado always seems so limitless, making her feel tiny and insignificant. Not tonight. The Milky Way hung low overhead like a celestial smear of diamonds, and she felt light enough to float up to the heavens and become one of glittering points of light. She wrapped her arms around his waist, placing her hands on the warmth of his stomach. His muscles contracted beneath her palms and a rush of delight hit her. Sliding her hand down, she moved her hand over his hip to his thigh. Muscles rippled beneath her touch as he shifted. She stroked his thigh, luxuriating in the feel of worn denim over corded muscles. She started as his hand covered hers, leading her to the fold of his thigh. Massaging his upper thigh, she felt him stir to life against the side of her fingers. He shuddered against her chest. Warm fingers curled around her questing hand, drawing her over his erection to cup him. His jeans, still damp, molded tightly to his expanding form. She slid her other hand to cover his heart as she gently raked her nails over the heated denim. A low growl leapt from his chest as his heartbeat increased and he lurched beneath her palm. With each stroke, he lengthened under her curious touch, and a sense of feminine power sang in her veins. As they wove their way down the mountain, Erihn alternated between reveling in the grace of his big body and stroking him to near delirium. She knew she was playing with fire, and she indulged in the

heady thrill of teasing strokes and his acute reactions. Fayne slowed the bike as they reached the point where they'd left the safety of the gravel road for the trail into the wilderness. "If we're going to make it through the woods without ending up in the mud or worse, in pieces, you need to keep your hands in one place," he rasped. She laughed with delight as he captured her errant hand and pressed it against his stomach. Tapping it lightly, he said, "Now, don't move it." She hugged him as they set off into the darkness. She was amazed at his ability to see in the black night. Aided by a single headlight, he unerringly maneuvered through dense undergrowth between the towering firs and aspens, never once making a mistake. They forded the small runoff, and she clung to him as they slid through the mud on the other side. For a second, she thought they just might end up on the ground, but he righted the bike easily and continued their journey. She was startled at the difference twenty-four hours made. Yesterday, she'd been ready to run as fast as she could from him and, today; she wanted to get as close as humanly possible. Laying her cheek against his back, she shivered in the chill night air as the lights of Avon twinkled in the valley below. Gradually the wilderness fell away as they reached some relatively tame acreage. The light from the kitchen window appeared through the trees and grew brighter as they neared the house. Erihn became aware of how cold she was. Fayne skirted around the small patch of tended lawn and the crunch of the driveway gravel was a welcome sound. He reached the overhang of the garage and pulled to a stop. Putting his feet on the ground, he turned off the bike. With ears still ringing from the constant rumble of the bike, she climbed off, her thighs protesting the unaccustomed exertions of earlier. Strong fingers curled around her elbow, supporting her. He put the kickstand in place and climbed off the bike after her. Shadowed, she couldn't see his face as he pulled her into his arms. His kiss was deep and toe curling, and she swayed against him. Passion re-ignited as he caressed her, his hands cupping her backside as he gently thrust against her feminine mound. Erihn grasped his jacket and clung to him as he kissed her, his tongue tasting, touching, and slowly driving her out of her mind. She ate at his mouth as if she were a starving woman and he the only thing to cure her hunger. He eased her backward toward the front door, pausing for a nip here, a suckle there. Twisted around each other's bodies, her elbow banged into the door with a hollow thud. She giggled wildly as he released her mouth and fumbled for the doorknob. He growled, "What are you laughing at?" "Nothing," she laughed. Never had she felt this wild, this free and this desired before. He acted as if he wanted to eat her alive. She stifled another giggle; just maybe she'd let him. He opened the door, and she freed herself long enough to walk into the warmth of the house. She dropped the backpack and scampered to the foot of the steps. Turning, she watched Fayne.

He stood in the doorway, his face in shadow, concentrating on something hanging on the door. Erihn frowned as she saw his big hands clench into fists, his knuckles turned white. She looked at the small square of white on the door. It wasn't hanging there. A narrow dagger suspended it, the slim blade embedded in the wooden door, square in the middle of what appeared to be a photograph. The ornate handle, studded with deep blue stones, gave her chills just looking at it. "What is that?" she whispered. Fayne's gaze shifted from the photograph to her. Apprehension crept under her skin as she watched his expression. Cold and deadly, a muscle ticked in his jaw, he looked angry enough to kill with his bare hands. Fear caught in her throat as he took a step toward her, and she couldn't prevent herself from retreating. Something curled and froze inside her. She put her hand on the banister to steady herself as he stepped into the light, his face intent, his eyes dark and hooded. The energy he radiated was unnerving and not a little bit frightening. "Go to bed, Erihn." His voice was low, guttural. "Fayne..." "Go now!" he thundered. Fear trickled down her spine as she ran up the steps, her heart pounding wildly against her ribs. As she reached for the doorknob, his voice stopped her. "Lock your door." She bolted into the room and shut the door as her mind swirled with unanswered questions. Why did he want her to lock the door? Who was in the photograph and why was it hanging on the door? Was he locking her in or locking himself out? Not wanting to press her luck, Erihn locked the door as frightened tears began to fall.

Fayne stood in the open French doors, the wind cold against his bare skin as rage flowed through his veins. Quietly, he shut the doors as he stepped out onto the deck. All was still, but it wouldn't be for long. Evil was coming for him. He could feel it in the air. Nude, he stood in the waxing moonlight, and the brilliant orb called his animal nature forth. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the ever-present glimmer of violet fire that existed in his mind's eye. Taking a deep breath, he shed his human thoughts and stepped into the light to embrace his beast.

Chapter 6 The phone woke him.

Fayne fumbled for the noisy appliance as the shrill ring fractured the early morning air. He glanced at the clock and scowled. Who in the devil would be calling at 7 A.M.? He snatched the receiver up and snarled, "This had better be good." Silence. "It's your dime." His preternatural hearing detected a rasping sound, the drag of silk over steel. A chill ran down his spine. In the back of his mind he heard a whispery laugh, dry, like the air of a crypt sealed for centuries. The sound of evil. A click and the dial tone jolted him out of his reverie. He set the receiver down, his heart thundering in his ears. Only one person could've been on the phone. One person whose evil persona would translate over miles of twisted wire. The only one who would have left last night's calling card. Edward. Fayne glanced at the mangled photograph he'd retrieved from the door. It lay on the bedside table, the dagger next to it. Taken here on the mountain about a month ago, the photo was of him and Max, frolicking with a football in the same meadow where he and Erihn had watched the sunset. Max was running for all he was worth, a shriek of childish glee captured on his face as he clutched the football to his chest. Behind him ran Fayne, reaching for the boy's tiny body, his love for the child obvious for all the world to see. The knife blade had neatly severed the two frozen images. Edward was coming for Max. He shuddered. He'd never allow the monster to take this child from him. In all the ways that counted, Max was his son. He would die to protect his child, and that was that. It was time to formulate a plan. He sat up and grimaced as he noted the mud on his feet and the sheets. He hated it when he went to bed with muddy feet. He'd been so exhausted after the events of last night; he'd collapsed into bed early this morning, muddy feet and all. Right now, though, he had bigger problems than mud on the sheets. He reached for the phone and dialed an international number he knew by heart. After a few seconds of buzzes and clicks that sounded like the phone was submerged under water, he heard the distinct ring common to a European phone. "St. James' residence." The clipped proper tones of Sinjin's British butler, Hilton, made Fayne want to sit up straighter. He resisted the urge. "Is Sinjin or Conor in, please?" "And whom may I say is calling?"

"Fayne." The butler paused. "Fang, sir?" Displeasure laced each syllable. Fayne resisted the impulse to snarl. "No, that would beFayne ,Helton ," he stressed the EL sound. A sniff. "Yes, sir." He heard Hilton set the phone down, and the faint click of the butler's shoes on the marble flooring as he walked away. Hilton knew damn good and well who was on the phone. The butler had been mad at him ever since a few years ago when he'd caught Fayne upstairs with his twin nieces, Ariell and Mariel, playing with an instrument not normally found in an English music room. He grinned. Those two had learned a lot more than chopsticks that day. "Fayne?" Mac's voice came on the line. "What's wrong?" "We have a problem," he growled. "Edward." Mac paused and Fayne could almost hear the wheels turning in his friend's head. "He's surfaced?" "He's coming after Max. He left a calling card last night." "Where is Max?" "Bliss took him to South America to observe an archeological dig. You know how that kid is rock crazy." Fayne chuckled. "They won't be back for a few weeks yet. I can't get hold of her from here, and they only call once a week. Ask Sinjin to contact her, and tell her to stay put and be on the watch for anything out of the ordinary." "Do you think Edward knows where Max is?" "No, Bliss removed him from the country through extraordinary means." He paused before continuing to allow the implication of his words to sink in. "I'm afraid Edward will find him another way. He and Max were joined mentally for several years." "Hmm... I don't know anything about that. I'll get with Sinjin immediately and we'll see if he can reach Bliss to let her know what's happening. Is there anything else you need? Do you want us to return home?" "No, I don't think that'll be necessary. Do me a favor and see if you can find Renault. I might need his help." "You realize Renault has vanished and no one's seen him for months. Sinjin thinks he returned to cat form permanently. I can't guarantee we'll find him." Fayne grimaced at the thought of his old friend hiding alone somewhere in the world. With the preternatural world in uproar and Renault's father leading the revolt, it wasn't safe for him to be alone. It wasn't safe for any of them. "I keep hoping he'll surface." "All of us do. In the meantime, I'll notify Alexandre and Val. Don't be surprised if you receive visitors soon."

He grinned. "I'd be surprised if I didn't." "Take care and keep an eye on Erihn. She's very dear to all of us." "That I will." Fayne cleared his throat. "Mac, if anything happens to me, you and Jen will look after Max won't you?" "Nothing will happen to you if you're careful. Besides, the good guys always win." Mac strove for a light tone. "Last, Mac, they always win last." "First or last, as long as we win. I'll see what I can do from my end and I'll get back with you." "Thanks." He hung up the phone and reached for the photo. Max was truly a gift to him. While were-cats could sire children, Fayne had never found a woman with whom he wanted to raise a family. No mortal woman had ever held his attention for longer than a few months, and he'd never met a female were-cat he could stand to be around for any period of time. They were too competitive, even if they were fantastic in bed. Then Max had arrived in his life. Max, at the age of four, had been sold to the vampire Elder, Edward, a rather vile vampire of the lowest denomination. Edward was mute and, with Max's psychic and clairvoyant talents, he'd been able to communicate effortlessly with the outside world. Without Max, he was relegated to using pen and paper like other mortals. Edward had planned on raising the child and turning him into an immortal human servant once he reached a proper age. Edward and Max together for all eternity, that is, until Fayne stepped in. Edward had become embroiled in the intrigues of Mikhail and his ill-fated bid for the position of Master on the Council of Elders, the ruling body for the entire preternatural underworld. Fayne was a reluctant participant on the council. Like most were-cats, he was more interested in physical pleasures than the politics of the damned. But, after Mikhail's defeat at the stone circle on the last winter solstice, Edward had abandoned Max, leaving him to certain death and enabling the vampire to save his own worthless hide. Fayne had rescued Max and adopted him into his life and his heart. Max had spent the better part of the last nine months in seclusion with Fayne and a few select friends here in Jennifer's house. Deeply traumatized by his ordeal at the hands of Edward, Max still suffered from nightmares and debilitating panic attacks. Over time they'd lessened, but they hadn't vanished completely. His heart swelled with pride as he thought of how Max seemed to be adjusting well to his first excursion into the world. He was enjoying his time in South America. A few natives, crumbling clay pots and a pile of mud could do amazing things for a six-year-old. On the phone a few days ago, Max had sounded less fearful and more like the little boy he should've been. He loved his son and he'd do anything to keep him safe. Fayne set the picture back down and rolled over onto his stomach. He closed his eyes, knowing he'd done all he could do for now. He'd set the wheels in motion and notified the troops. After he removed

Erihn from the line of fire, he would be free to go after Edward. This time, nothing would stop him from killing the vampire.

A thud overhead woke him from a sound sleep. Fayne lay still, listening to Erihn's soft footsteps above. A rush of desire ran through him at the thought of her uninhibited response of last night. It'd taken every ounce of willpower to send her to bed alone when he'd have given his eyeteeth to bed her and keep her there for a week. She was a firecracker and he wanted her more than ever. Unfortunately, keeping her safe was more important than appeasing his animal nature. First, he had to clear the remains of the mudslide out of the drive. Then he had to convince her to leave as soon as possible. And he had a good idea how to accomplish that. He rose from the bed, his lip curling at the sight of the dirty sheets. No matter, he'd take care of them later. He rushed through a quick shower and pulled on a pair of shorts while trying to keep his mind off the delectable female upstairs. Sprinting up the steps to the main floor, he paused on the landing. Her scent teased his senses, and he was pleased to note she'd used rose geranium oil in her bath again. Silently, he stepped into the hall and the first thing he saw was Erihn, sitting on a couch in a beam of sunlight. Dressed in an ivory lace dress and a fluffy, cocoa-colored sweater, she looked like an angel. Her hair was pulled back into one long, thick braid that trailed over her right shoulder. She sat with the diary in her lap while scribbling furiously in a notebook, her pen scratching over the paper. Fayne broke into a sweat as an odd sinking feeling kicked in his stomach. He felt like he'd ridden an express elevator up forty floors, leaving his stomach on the third. As he watched, her bare toes, nails painted a shell pink, curled and uncurled on the Berber carpeting. A rush of desire left him with the need to claw the door molding to splinters. No doubt about it, he was in trouble. Silently, he retreated down the steps to slip out the back door.

Erihn frowned at her notes. According to the journal, there were only two ways to become a were-cat. One was to be born of two were-cat parents. A were-cat and a mortal could have were-cat offspring, but the chances were slim. The only other way was to be scratched or bitten by a were-cat near the full moon. She gnawed the end of her pen. Now, the problem, of course, was how to get the hero to scratch the heroine. In bed, maybe? An accident? She wrote a question mark next to her note. She'd have to come back to that one. Next was the issue of changing form. How did a were-cat change into cat form and back again? She glared at the diary, sitting on the arm of the couch. The stupid thing read like stereo instructions. Some of

it she couldn't make heads or tails of while the bulk of the later information was written in a language she was unable to decipher. There were times she was tempted to try reading the thing backwards rather than forwards. Erihn sighed. She was going to have to come up with something. InVelvet Lover, she hadn't addressed the issue of changing from human to were-cat, but it was going to be an integral plot point in the new book. The sound of the door opening jarred her from her musing. Fayne came in and shut the door behind him before walking down the hall toward her. She greedily drank in the bronzed expanse of his chest, filthy from his backbreaking labor in the drive. He stopped in the archway, his gaze intent upon her. Baggy purple shorts hung low on his hips and she saw them twitch as her gaze skimmed over the front. She looked at his face, a quiver running under her skin as her body heated and softened as if preparing for his touch. Even covered in muck and pine pitch, he was still the handsomest man she'd ever seen. "Morning." He rasped. Erihn shivered as if he'd physically touched her. She cleared her throat. "It's afternoon. I have some tea here if you'd like some." She indicated the pitcher and glasses on the table before her. He said nothing. She forced herself to remain still as his hungry gaze moved over her. He waved a hand to indicate the dirt. "I need to get cleaned up." "Okay, take a glass with you." She leaned forward and poured a glass of the icy herbal tea. Rising, she walked across the room to hand it to him. For a moment, she thought he wouldn't take her offering, then he reached out and accepted the glass, taking care to avoid touching her. "Thank you." She forced a bright smile. "I'll go make something to eat." "That isn't necessary." "I insist. You've spent most of the morning working outside, the least I can do is provide you with food." His eyes pierced hers, searching. She sensed he wanted to say something, instead he nodded abruptly. "Thanks." She heaved a sigh of relief as he turned and walked down the steps to his room. She still wanted him even though he unnerved her. There was something about him, something animal, untamed. By rights, it should terrify her, but she sensed his restraint. He wasn't manic like Chapman or intimidating like Val. While Fayne was unpredictable, there was a softer side, a tenderness to him. It was that side which drew her like a moth to the flame. Now she had to be careful she didn't get burned. Erihn returned to the couch and took great care replacing the diary in its box. She tucked it into her purse for safekeeping. She picked up her notebook and pen and carried them with her into the kitchen. Dropping her supplies on the counter, she checked the fridge before deciding on grilled cheese sandwiches. Pulling the ingredients out of the fridge, she piled them on the butcher-block island. She selected a large non-stick pan from the pans dangling overhead. Humming under her breath, she added a teaspoon of butter and set the pan on the stove to heat as she stared at her scrawled notes.

Need something to make hero appear more sympathetic. She frowned. What would make her were-cat hero appear more sympathetic? A pet? Would were-cats have pets? No, probably not. How about a debilitating illness that would come and go, like malaria? No. According to the diary, were-cats were almost indestructible to human diseases. Unlike werewolves, were-cats were immune to silver bullets and wolf-bane. They healed quickly and, so far, she hadn't found anything in the diary that addressed what could kill them. Erihn started as she smelled scorching butter. Whipping the frying pan off the burner, she set it aside and slapped the sandwiches together haphazardly, her mind still on her book. What made human men appear vulnerable to women? Babies. Stunned, she froze, cheese dangling in mid-air. That was it! She dropped the cheese and snatched up her pen. Give the hero a child. Where did the child come from? Make that an abandoned child. Of course, with a child, he'd have to lose the motorcycle. No one would transport a small child on the back of a bike. Erihn gnawed on her lip. That might present a problem, though, as she was determined to give the hero a motorcycle. Maybe he could own a car also? She scribbled a few more notes. Satisfied she had everything down, she turned her attention back to lunch. "Oh bother!" She shook her head as she picked up the now-cold frying pan. How long had she been standing around dithering? "Problems?" She spun around, almost dropping the pan. Air quickly left her lungs when she saw the way Fayne watched her. Hair slicked back from his shower, he was dressed in black jeans and a brilliant purple velvet vest that made his eyes look almost pansy-purple. All that bare skin just waiting for her to explore... She swallowed audibly. "Umm, what? Did you say something?" "Are you okay?" He stepped forward soundlessly and she noted that his feet were bare. There was something sexy about a man's bare feet. "Yes." She stepped back and bumped into the stove. She turned and dropped the pan on the hot burner.Pull it together, Spencer.

"What are we having?" "Grilled cheese." Erihn dropped more butter in the pan and reached for the sandwiches. "Sounds good. Is that pitcher of tea still in the living room?" "Yes, I forgot to bring it in here." "I'll get it." Out of the corner of her eye, she watched him walk to the living room, leg muscles rippling beneath his jeans as he moved. It should be a crime to wear jeans that well. She fought the urge to sigh like a besotted teenybopper. What was wrong with her? She'd never lost her mind over a man before. She dropped the sandwiches into the butter as Fayne returned with the pitcher. The tattoo caught on his arm caught her attention. "Why did you get a tattoo?" she blurted. He glanced at the ring of thorns on his arm. "It's to remind me of something I learned long ago." He refilled both their glasses, then went to the freezer to get more ice. "Your tea's good. What's in it?" "Herbs. Mint, mostly. It's a nice, calming blend for the morning. I make it myself." She poked at the sandwiches, checking to make sure they weren't burning. "Can I ask what the lesson was?" He took a long drink of his tea, almost draining the glass. "Something in here tastes familiar." "Probably chamomile. It's used in a lot of foods." "Hmm, could be." He refilled his glass and sat down at the small kitchen table. "Now what where you saying?" "What did the thorns..." He nodded, "Oh yeah...I remember now. The thorns are to remind me of the perils of my pervious life, as it were." "What do you mean by previous life?" Erihn neatly flipped the sandwiches, then turned to face him. "Do you mean you've lived before?" He laughed, and it wasn't like his normal, rolling chuckle. It was an out and out guffaw. He took a big drink from the glass and set it down with a crack. "Have I lived before! Boy, have I ever." He shook his head as if bemused. "Wow, my head feels funny." Erihn frowned. He wasn't acting like himself at all. Was he sick? "Fayne?" He stared out the windows in the direction of the bird feeders. Erihn glanced outside to see two crows flirting with each other. One darted a few feet away before stopping to bellow at the other. Erihn turned to see Fayne watching the birds intently. His gaze flicking back and forth as they played. "Fayne, are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah..." he sighed. "I'm just g-g-great." The word ended with a strange, animal-like growl. "Are you allergic to anything?" His eyes focused on hers, his dilated pupils setting off alarm bells in her mind. "Did you take anything before you came upstairs?" "No." He shook his head then frowned. "Not 'llergic to anything." "Are you a diabetic?" "Nope." Erihn started toward him, concerned. Something was very wrong, and thanks to the mudslide further down the mountain, she couldn't even call an ambulance. "Fayne, I think..." Fayne startled her by jumping to his feet. He wobbled a bit, causing her to reach out and steady him. His arm was warm beneath her hand. He waggled a finger in front of her nose. "That's your problem. You think too much." He giggled, then rubbed his stomach. "Wow, I'm hungry. Are you hungry?" He moved to the refrigerator, his steps lacking their normal grace. If he was sick, what should she do? "Food's burnin'," he announced. Erihn spun and grabbed the pan off the burner. Maybe if she fed him, he'd feel better. Hurriedly she found a plate and slid the hot sandwiches onto it. She turned as he pulled a pint of mint ice cream out of the freezer. "Sandwiches are ready." "'Kay." He wandered back to the counter, wrestling with the top of the carton all the way. Finally, he wrenched it off. "Tadddaaa." "Do you have a fever?" she asked, trying to put her hand on his forehead. He frowned and batted her hand away from his face. "Mm fine," he mumbled. He pulled open a drawer to paw through the cutlery. He located a spoon and dug into his prize. Erihn managed to cup her hand around the back of his neck. Ignoring the shiver that tingled over her skin, she found him quite warm. Too warm, in fact. "Fayne, you have a fever." "No doan't," he mumbled around a mouthful of ice cream. "Boy, it's hot in here. Do you think it's hot in here? I know I do. Have I ever told you how much I hate clothing?" He relinquished his spoon and reached for the snaps on his jeans. "I really hate clothing." "Fayne..." She reached to stop him. "If I had my way, I'd run around nekkid all the time. I thinkeveryone should run around nekkid..."

Erihn gulped as he unbuttoned his jeans. He didn't appear to have anything on underneath. "Fayne..." "Thatz my name, doan wear it out," he snorted with laughter. Erihn caught her lip between her teeth. Obviously, he was ill. Maybe she should try and get him into bed. "I think, maybe, you should lie down for a while." He grinned. "Remember what I said..." he trilled in a singsong voice. He shook his head and dropped his pants at the same time. "Voila!" Erihn gasped, "Oh, my lord." Her gaze fastened on his hipbone. A tattoo of a panther covered his hip from his waist to the top part of his thigh. A panther on the prowl, crouched, its expression intent. It was one of the most amazing things she'd ever seen... on a human body, that is. There was something incredibly erotic about a tattoo hidden by clothing. She blinked. It certainly wasn't hidden now. Fayne laughed, then overbalanced, stumbling into the counter with a thud. His bleary eyes glinted. "Your turn," he purred. "I don't..." "Uh uh uh...doan say it." He stared at her, his eyes filled with longing. "You're so beautiful." He frowned, then looked around as if confused and caught sight of the sandwiches. "Mmm..." He stumbled to the table, his gait rolling as if he were on a ship. He picked up a sandwich and closed his eyes as he took a bite. "Heavenly," he mumbled around a mouthful. Before Erihn could fully comprehend what she was seeing-an almost naked man eating a grilled cheese sandwich in the middle of the kitchen-he'd finished one and picked up another. "These are grrrrrreat," he growled, finishing the second one. "I'm thirsty... more tea." He reached for his glass and Erihn lunged, removing it from his reach. He definitely needed to lie down, and the closest vertical surface other than the floor was the couch. She didn't want to risk getting him on the steps to his room and having him lose his balance. "How about some nice refreshing ice water?" She whisked the tea glass away and dumped it into the sink. "You've had enough tea." She turned. "Why don't we go lay on the couch?" Fayne leaned against the kitchen wall, a smile playing about his gorgeous mouth. "Wanna lay down with me?" Erihn approached him and looped an arm around his waist. An electric jolt went through her as he dropped an arm over her shoulder. "Well, of course, I do, Fayne. We're friends, aren't we?" She led him toward the archway into the living room.

"We're more'n that, Erihn. Doan you see?" He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and she shivered. "You cold?" He pressed a kiss to her temple. "I can warm you." She stumbled as his lips grazed her ear. "Stop that." He rumbled a funny little laugh as he tugged her down the steps into the living room. "Gotta shay the sh-ecret word." She positioned him by the couch and stepped out from under his arm. He wavered on his feet as she placed her hands on his chest and pushed lightly. He collapsed on the cream-colored cushions. "Is the secret word, 'nighty night'?" She smiled at his startled expression. "Do you know if you're allergic to any herbs?" He waved his hand as if to brush her concerns aside. "Naw...nuthin'. What wuz in that tea, anyway? It wuz good." "Mint mostly. Some chamomile, touch of bergamot and some catnip." Fayne blinked, his body slowly sliding to one side. "Catnip?" "Yeah. It's a great relaxant, and it's very good for..." A bellow of laughter cut her off as he slid face first into the couch cushions. "What... is it the catnip?" Erihn touched his shoulder to get his attention. He raised his head, looked at her before dissolving into laughter again. "Catnip," he gasped. "I can't 'lieve I let y'feed...cat..." He shook his head. She resisted the urge to stomp her foot. "I really don't see what's so funny. Do I need to call a doctor?" "N-no. I fine." He calmed, a smile hovering on his lips. "Sleep..." He tried to get his legs onto the couch. After the second time he missed, she bent, grabbed his ankles and helped him turn onto his back and stretch out. He gave her a sleepy smile. "Thangs," he slurred. Erihn ran her hand over his forehead. He was quite a sight. Sinfully sexy and disreputable, his hair tousled and wearing only his vest and a panther tattoo on his hip. She moved beside the couch, trying to ignore his nude state and his manhood lying semi-erect against his belly. Was there a time when he wasn't hard? She should find something to cover him with. "Are you sure?" she asked, still worried. She'd never heard of this strong a reaction to catnip in a human being. In a cat, that was another story. Maybe she could use it in her next book. The heroine could give the hero catnip, then have her way with him... Erihn squeaked as Fayne grabbed her wrist and yanked her down on top of him. Plastered against him like wallpaper, she was vividly aware of the heat and scent of the man beneath her.

"Nap with me," he purred. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her head to his shoulder. "So pretty...might jest keep this one..." And, like that, he was asleep. She raised her head and looked into his sleeping face. He was so beautiful, he was almost painful to look at. She shifted into a more comfortable position. His arms warm around her, she settled her head on his chest, his heart and a very odd purr reminiscent of his cat against her ear. Maybe he had a heart murmur? Erihn closed her eyes and tried to think of any other place she'd rather be. She couldn't think of one.

"We need to go home." Bliss started as Max's softly spoken words derailed her train of thought. She looked up from her journal to her young charge standing in the bedroom door. Instead of the light cotton pajamas he'd gone to bed in, he was fully dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt. She hid a smile, noting he had the shirt wrong side out. "What's the matter, Max? Did you have a bad dream?" "No." His voice was low. "We must go." A trickle of foreboding ran down her back. "Why do we have to return to Colorado, Maxie? We still have three weeks left here." "He's coming." She froze. She didn't have to ask whohe was. "Did you have a bad dream, Max?" she asked, striving for a calm tone. "I saw him. He's waiting for me." Bliss swallowed. "Where is he waiting for you?" she whispered. "Home. He'll kill Fayne and the marked woman." Max took a few steps into the room. His eyes were black, flat. "We must go." She shut the journal and dropped it beside her on the bed. "Maxie, I can't take you back there. If he is waiting for you, your father would want me to keep you safe." "I go, then." Woodenly, he turned and walked back to his room. She bit her lip, unable to decide what to do. If there was a problem in Colorado, returning Max was the worst thing she could do. But, if she didn't take him back, she knew he'd look for a way to escape on his own, and he wouldn't give up until he succeeded. Max might only be six, but he was going on forty. Bliss rose from the bed and reached for the clothing she'd discarded only an hour before. She needed to contact her pilot if they were going to return to America.

She braced herself for the long night to come.

Chapter 7 Erihn had never experienced such an erotic dream. Her nipples, still damp from his mouth, tingled as a soft breeze caressed them. She sighed as hot lips pressed open-mouthed kisses down her stomach. Teeth grazed the edge of her belly button and she smiled at the sensation. Strong hands stroked her hips before coaxing her to lift them. Callused fingers hooked the top of her panties and slid the cotton down her thighs, caressing each inch as they traveled south. Even her ankles received warm, lingering kisses. Magical hands massaged her calves, teeth nibbled at her inner knee, nipping at the sensitive flesh. A purr slipped from her lips. She grew damp as delicious fingers teased their way up her legs. She ached for him to touch her. Warm fingers curled around her left ankle. She followed their lead and lifted her leg, placing it on the back of the couch. She let the other foot slide to the floor. Her forehead pleated. Couch? Why wasn't she in bed? Why was she on the couch? Bewildered, she opened her eyes and directly in her line of sight was Fayne's flower arrangement on the coffee table. The events of the past few hours came rushing back in a dizzying blur. Where was... She looked around the room, stopping when she found him. Crouched between her spread legs, Fayne's gaze locked on hers as he pressed a kiss to her upper thigh, his eyes clear and bright. He was going to... She was nude! Her dress was partially unbuttoned and gaped open while the skirt was pushed up around her waist. She reached for his hand. "Fayne?" He sank forward, his arms snaking under her thighs and up the sides of her body. Skimming his hands over her skin, he laced his fingers with hers as he lowered his head. Erihn bit back a scream as his tongue breached her defenses and went for the prize. Warm sensations overwhelmed her as his tongue stroked her aroused flesh. Erihn closed her eyes; her fingers tightening on his as waves of rapture flooded her system. She trembled beneath his touch, straining for more as he settled into a rhythm that had her panting and straining against his mouth. She clung to him, glorying in his touch, his mastery of her body. He knew exactly how to touch her, how to overwhelm her senses. She raced toward the peak and dangled on the edge, her body taut. He pulled away, forcing a moan of protest from Erihn. "Look at me," he rasped.

Erihn opened her eyes. Looking down her body, she met his gaze. He licked his lips and lowered his head to cover her once more and hepurrrrred ... "Fayne..." Erihn screamed as her climax consumed her, and still he didn't stop. Vibrations raced from the tip of her toes to the top of her head as wave after wave of delight inundated her. The contractions seemed to last forever, and her awareness of time dwindled to the slightest thread. Just when it seemed she couldn't last another second, his tongue brushed her sensitive flesh, setting off another wave of reality- altering tremors. Erihn sagged against the couch, gasping for air as he pulled away. Her eyes half-closed, her body slick with sweat; she was limp, drained. Her breath raged in her throat as she drifted back to reality. Her body fairly hummed with satiation as aftershocks seized her limbs. She couldn't stir to cover herself as Fayne released her and moved from between her legs. Through half-closed eyes, she watched as he rose from his cramped position, muscles moving in complete harmony. He stretched, his manhood jutted proudly from a thatch of springy ginger-colored hair. The panther tattoo on his hip undulated as he crouched beside her, his expression tender as he outlined her lower lip with a finger. Erihn blinked, her tongue feeling thick and uncoordinated. "Was that retribution for making you sick?" Fayne slid his finger to the corner of her mouth, where the scar began. "And what would you do if it was?" Erihn moved her head; snaking her tongue out, she licked his finger. He pulled back, his expression startled. She stretched, delighting in the way his gaze heated as he watched her. She fairly purred satisfaction. "I think I need to brew some more tea." "I don't think we need any more of that right now," he licked his lips, his voice strained. "I know what we need," she whispered. Her gaze dropped to his jutting manhood. Under her scrutiny, it leapt, lengthening and thickening. A drop of fluid pearled at the very tip. A rush of lust unfurled through her body, shocking her with its intensity. After their activities of the past few minutes, she hadn't expected such an intense craving so quickly. She wanted him. Now. Erihn sat up and swung her legs off the couch. Rising to her feet, she held out her hand and said nothing. His gaze sharpened, questioning. She didn't know what he saw in her expression, but whatever it was, it was enough. His fingers curled around hers as he got to his feet. Leading the way, Erihn turned and led him from the room, her gentle giant trailing behind her, docile as a lamb. She only hoped he didn't stay that way for long. She climbed the first step leading to the hallway and stopped. Turning, she noted they were now very close to the same height. With her free hand, she touched the silk of his hair. Unbound, it fell just below his shoulders in dark reddish brown waves.

She slid her fingers into the soft strands, her nails scraping lightly at his scalp. His eyes were half-closed as he tipped his head back and encouraged her attentions by stepping closer. She released his hand and plunged her fingers into his hair, massaging his scalp and eliciting a groan. She brushed her lips over his. This was the second time she'd initiated a kiss; only this time, she knew how to do it properly. His lips parted beneath hers and she invaded. Her tongue tangled with his, alternating between flirting and seduction. His arms slid around her waist and she leaned into him. She stroked beneath his left ear, and he jerked against her, breaking the kiss. His chest heaved, brushing hers, and their gazes met. His violet eyes were dilated almost completely black. He was near the edge and she'd put him there. A shimmy of satisfaction raced through her. He lifted her, bracing her against his chest, and Erihn wrapped her legs around his trim waist. She laid her head on his shoulder, then closed her eyes. His erection bounced against her backside as he moved toward the main stairway. She felt delicate and desired in his arms. He carried her up the staircase, and she marveled at his strength. His breathing was labored, but she wasn't sure if it was from her kiss or carrying her up the long flight of stairs. He entered the bedroom and stopped beside the bed. Erihn raised her head and looked into his dark eyes. "Are you sure?" He rumbled. Erihn tangled her fingers in his hair once more, pulling his lips to hers. She put everything she didn't dare say aloud into the kiss. Their tongues dueled as he lowered her to the bed. Erihn arched her body into his as she felt the press of his erection against her damp opening. She tensed. He broke the kiss. "It's okay, angel," he whispered. "You're too big," she whispered. "You can take me," he whispered. Erihn smiled tremulously.Please, dear God, don't let him be too big. I couldn't stand it. He rocked against her, slow and easy, each movement bringing him further inside her body. A sound of distress escaped her, causing him to pause. Panic raced through her system at the thought of what she was going to allow him, nay, asked him to do. "I..." Her face heated. "Sssh," he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Just relax." Another kiss graced her right temple. Tears threatened as he continued his gentle assault. Touching her as if she were a treasure of great value, she relaxed under his ministrations. He began pressing forward again and, this time, she delighted in the sensation of his invasion. Stretching and filling, his movements were slow, methodical. Coupled with a kiss here, a caress there, it seemed he was touching every inch of her at once. It was exquisite torture.

Finally, he was buried in her, his breath harsh against her hair as he held himself still, fighting for control. A wave of tenderness washed over her as she stroked the rigid muscles of his back. He was trying to take it slow to avoid scaring her. She smiled. Now that he was inside her, she was perfectly happy to keep him for a while longer. She rolled her hips, eliciting a hiss and an abbreviated thrust from Fayne. "Stop," he growled. "Why?" She tensed her thighs, drawing her knees to align them on either side of his rib cage. An inarticulate sound emerged from him, as he was forced inside even further by her position. "I can't..." He moaned as she arched. "I can," she purred in his ear. She rolled her hips again, this time receiving a hesitant, answering thrust from him. She repeated the motion and received a more powerful response. Fayne raised his head, his gaze capturing hers. His skin was damp with sweat, his expression tense as he fought to maintain control, but Erihn didn't want him to maintain. She wanted him as wild as he'd had her on the couch. She wanted him sobbing her name as she had his. She wanted to drive him over the edge. She slipped her hands down to his buttocks and cupped them, urging him to move. "I hope you know what you're asking for," he panted. Erihn smiled, "Why don't you show me, lover?" Fayne took it from there. Strong hands positioned her hips just so and he began with a slow thrust that made her scream. Wave after delicious wave of sensation poured over her body as he increased his thrusts, each one brushing that magical nubbin of flesh, nudging her ever higher toward the peak. His gaze never left hers as he moved inside her. Some strokes were short and quick while others were long and sensual, dragging across her nerves, eliciting screams and sighs in equal measure. Tension mounted in her body; straining beneath him, she erupted into orgasm, her nails digging into his backside. His movements slowed but didn't stop. Wave after wave of ecstasy raced through her, leaving her mindless with pleasure. As she calmed, he renewed his sensual assault. Erihn clung to his shoulders as he took her over the edge again. This time he didn't pause to let her catch her breath. Increasing his thrusts, Erihn screamed as another orgasm came almost immediately upon the last. His movements slowed. Erihn panted as he dropped his head, brushed his lips over her forehead. Pressing kisses down the side of her face, he trailed them down her throat. At the base of her neck, his teeth nipped at her skin as he resumed thrusting, this time his body lower and tighter to hers. His movements more urgent as he gripped her by the hips and he thrust once, twice before he took his pleasure. Erihn clung to his big body as he came deep inside her.

Trembling, he rolled to his side, tucking her against him. Erihn wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he gasped for air. With his arms around her, his body filling the emptiness in her life with warmth and light, she'd never felt more content in her life.

Fayne curled his toes as Erihn nibbled on his neck. Just as he'd suspected, once she'd gotten over her inhibitions, she'd turned into a wanton in his arms. Making love with her had exceeded his wildest expectations. His body replete for the moment, he lazily stroked her back as she lay on top him. "Fayne?" "Mmm?" He shivered and closed his eyes as she nipped a particularly sensitive area of his neck, just below his ear. A rush of pleasure filled his groin and his cock answered the call. Maybe he wasn't down for the count after all. "How do you..." She paused as if considering her words. "Do...what you do as many times as you can." "Practice." He fairly purred as she teased his earlobe between her teeth. "I'm serious." "So am I." He laughed as she licked his Adam's apple. The laugh turned to a hum of pleasure as she bit his chin. Inquisitive fingers plucked his right nipple and he slid his hands down to cup her buttocks. Gently he thrust against her as his erection increased. "Your talent," she rocked her hips against him and his breath caught in his throat, "is very unusual." "Not among my people." He sighed as she settled into an easy rhythm. He slid his hands down the tops of her thighs, spreading them to drape over him. They fit each other so perfectly, it was frightening. "Your people?" "My people, those like me." He thrust against her, his cock sliding along her damp flesh. "We all have the ability to be multi-orgasmic and retain our erections." His eyelids fluttered as he felt Erihn sit up. "Lucky family," she breathed. Her eyes were dilated, her lips damp and swollen from their kisses. "I've never heard of men having this ability outside of the east where it's more common." She rose to her knees. "We're more than just men." He gritted his teeth as her damp opening flirted with the sensitive head of his cock. "I come from a long line of Were-catzzz..." Fayne's word was bit off as she seated herself on his throbbing staff. Lust rose hot and heavy, scattering his thoughts to the wind as he concentrated on the sensation of her damp flesh clasping him. "You read the book..." He watched as her head tipped back, the ends of her wild, tangled hair licked at his thighs, her breasts bobbing with her movements as she rode him slowly. Inexorably she took him deep, then rose at a leisurely pace until only the very tip remained inside her. Under normal circumstances, he loved to watch a woman find her bliss with his body. In fact, he craved it. But there was something about Erihn and her delight in exploring the boundaries of her newfound sensuality that tried his self-restraint to its limits.

Right now, he wasn't in the mood for slow but sure. He captured her shoulders and pulled her down to press against his chest. Startled, her eyes flew open as he switched positions, rolling her under him until she lay flat on the bed. He braced his arms on the mattress so he didn't crush her. "I don't need any books for this," he hissed. He took her. Spreading her thighs wide, he thrust into her damp heat. Her sultry keening filled his ears as he pressed his hips against hers. Her eyes were closed, her hair strewn across the pillows. She was wild beneath him as he brought her to her peak. Her nails dug into his skin as she clenched around him, her convulsions sending tremors of bliss to his toes. He gritted his teeth, trying to prevent his coming release, but with Erihn, it was so hard for him to maintain. By the merest thread, he managed to avoid spilling himself. Reciting sales figures from last quarter helped. As she quieted beneath him, she opened her eyes. Sated dark brown flecked with amber gazed up at him; a sexy smile played about her kiss-swollen lips. She looked like a woman who'd been made love to all afternoon. He experienced a rush of masculine pride at the tousled look, knowing he'd been the one to put it there. Then she flexed around him. Fayne closed his eyes as a dizzying rush of sensation centered on his cock. He gave an involuntary thrust. Fingers trailed fire down his side as she stroked his skin and he quivered beneath her touch. Her fingers gentled as she reached the panther on his hip. "I love your...cat," she whispered, clenching around him again. The scent of her surrounded him. Roses and the musky scent of their lovemaking tweaked his senses. Blood thundered in his veins as he rolled his hips against her. His peak was near... just hanging there, waiting for him to embrace it. He loved to linger in that place of perfection for as long as he could stand it. Ecstasy so close and yet so far away. It was a game with him, a game of willpower over the demands of his body. Never before had he experienced as much passion as in the past few hours with her. He could resist her allure, hecould. "It's so sexy," she hissed, clenching again. Her fingers stroked his pelvis and his muscles clenched. Slender fingers slipped between their bodies and brushed the base of his cock, then encircled it. In the limited space where their bodies were joined, Erihn clasped him around the root. Fayne was shocked as a whimper broke from his lips, his entire being focused on those slender digits wrapped around him. "So is this." She flexed her hand slowly. Fayne broke out into a sweat. "Everything about you is sexy." She gave him another stroke and he emitted a strangled groan. She rolled her hips, forcing him to thrust against her. "I like it when you lose control." She settled into an abbreviated stroke, her fingers deft around him. "Like when you make me lose control." Her voice was husky, straining.

Red flashed behind his eyelids as the twin delights of her receptive body and her strong little hand surrounded him. He was going to lose it. Growling, he captured her hand and pulled it away from him. Opening his eyes, he stared deep into hers. She was so beautiful, flushed and aroused beneath him. He tangled his fingers with hers and raised them over her head. "I've created a monster," he groaned. Erihn lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist. "Mmm. You've created a woman," she whispered. "Well, woman," he grunted. "You'd better hang on." He nailed her. Dimly, he was aware of the wooden headboard hitting the wall as his thrusts grew frenzied. All he could see, feel and taste was the woman beneath him. Again and again, he brought her to orgasm, but he couldn't seem to stop. His beast had been unsheathed and nothing could call him back. His body fell into an ancient rhythm as his primal heartbeat drummed in his ears. Her fingers tightened around his as he broached his own peak. Her body, slick with sweat, slipped beneath his so easily, so perfectly. He could no longer control his thrusts; it was as if his animal nature had consumed him. Awareness dimmed to a tiny speck of violet light in his mind. As she clenched beneath him once more, he erupted with a primal cry. Sensation ripped through his body as he collapsed on her. His breath raged from his lungs and sensation overload sparked along his skin. His body quaked as he tried to roll to his side to keep from crushing her, but Erihn wrapped her arms around him, preventing his movement. After a few minutes, Fayne regained enough equilibrium to move. Rolling, he cuddled Erihn against his chest, still buried deep inside her. He couldn't believe what had just happened. Never before had he lost control as he had with her. Never had he unleashed his beast on a human. He could've hurt her very easily. He swallowed audibly. "Are you okay?" "Hmm...heavenly." She laughed softly. "All the time I missed. I really should've done this sooner." He scowled as the image of Erihn with another man invaded his mind. Her gorgeous thighs wrapped around a stranger, her breathy cries as she took her pleasure. Her sun-warmed kisses and the tender look in her eyes as she smiled at him. The image of her bestowing her love and affection on another man had him grinding his teeth. Love? He mentally shied away from the word, stunned at the depth of emotion she'd wrenched from him. He gently disengaged his body from hers, and rolled away. He needed distance, time. He stifled a groan as she cuddled against his back, her arm draped over his hips as she drifted off to sleep. Never before had he been possessive of the women he'd made love with. Never. It was a game to him. A necessary biological function. His heart had never been involved.

Until now.

Today had been one of the most amazing days of her life. The sun was long gone; the evening air was chilly as Erihn stood on the deck. Her body felt positively mellow as she leaned on the railing, a glass of red wine in her hand. The waxing moon hung low overhead and she basked in its cool glow. Fayne had returned to the house just a short while ago. While she slept, he'd left her bed to finish removing the mess from the drive. She felt odd waking up alone after such a magical afternoon. She smiled. She had no idea that acting so shamelessly could be so much fun. She felt his presence before she saw him. Awareness surged over her skin, alerting her to his arrival. She turned her head and saw him watching her. He stood in the doorway, his face hidden in shadow. Dressed in blue jeans, a white cotton T- shirt and bare feet, he looked lean, powerful. Erihn was struck by how little she knew about the man who'd become her lover. Did he walk around with bare feet a lot? "We need to talk." She froze at the tone of his voice. Low and flat, a sense of foreboding descended.Now is the time he'll tell you it's been fun. She turned away, opting to stare into the darkness rather than face him. "What would you like to talk about?" She was pleased her voice was calm, betraying none of the unease that'd sprung to life. "There are several things that come to mind." The faint whisper of cotton heralded his approach. She wanted nothing more than for him to take her into his arms and carry her back upstairs to make love again. Anything to avoid the conversation they were about to have. He didn't touch her. "Like what?" Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him glance at her. He leaned against the hot tub and folded massive arms over his chest. The same chest she'd covered with kisses only hours earlier. "I didn't use any protection." Fayne's bald statement stunned her. She stiffened. In this day and age she should've known better. In her books, the hero and heroine always practiced safe sex unless the story was an historical. She believed in safe sex and was very careful to use it in her books. Even knowing this, like a dummy, the first chance she'd had, she'd thrown all of her principles away. "Is there something you'd like to ask me?" His voice was low. Erihn laughed, but it sounded sharp and bitter to her ears. "There are a million things I could ask you, Fayne. Let's face it, we're pretty much strangers to one another. Or at least as strangers can be after spending the afternoon having sex."

"Sex?" He recoiled. She wanted to weep at the chasm before her. Their amazing afternoon of romance had dissolved into one of polite conversation and practical issues. This didn't happen in romance novels. She bit her lip. If he wanted to handle it this way, she could certainly play along. Erihn took a drink of her wine and set her glass on the railing with a thump. "So, Fayne, tell me, do you have any family?" "I have a son." Her stomach dropped as icy fingers wrapped around her heart and squeezed. He had a son and he'd never told her. You never asked. He should've told her up front. Maybe you weren't important enough for him to tell? "I see," her voice was hollow. "What's his name?" "Max, and he's the light of my life. He'll be seven shortly." Fayne's quietly spoken words spoke volumes. She didn't have to look at his handsome face to see how he felt - she heard it in every tone. Jealously reared its ugly head as she clasped her hand around her glass. Jealous of a child. What utter nonsense. She was a grown woman, secure in her life and her career. Being jealous of a child was ridiculous. "Where is your son? With his mother?" "No, he's with a friend. Bliss took him on an archeological dig." Bliss. She cleared her throat. "That's very nice of her. He's a very lucky boy..." She swore she heard the sound of her heart breaking. "Erihn," Fayne pushed off the side of the hot tub and moved closer. "I want you to know I've never done that before. I've never had unprotected sex with a woman I've just met." Mute, she nodded. She didn't have any words at this point. "Also, if anything comes of our indiscretion, I want you to know I'll not leave you adrift." She froze as the implication of his words struck home. He was talking about the possibilities of her getting pregnant. A howl locked in her throat and she fought the urge to clutch her stomach. The vision of a son in Fayne's image rose in her mind. He'd be a beautiful child as, no doubt, was Max. Her fingers tightened on the wineglass as she pasted a smile on her face. "You don't have to worry about that, I won't get pregnant."

"Erihn, I know you probably aren't taking anything..." "It isn't that," she interrupted, her fingers clenching the etched crystal. "I can't have children." Her voice was cool. "He took that, too." The wineglass shattered.

Chapter 8 Erihn gulped as the broken crystal cut into her flesh. Dumbly, she stared at her hand as blood welled from the wound and spilled into her palm. The funny thing was that she couldn't feel it, not really. It didn't hurt. Mystified, she turned to Fayne as an odd buzzing sensation started in her ears. He came forward, lips moving, but she couldn't hear what he said. Alarm crossed his face as her knees bobbled slightly and, for a split second, the deck tilted beneath her. Strong arms scooped her off her feet, and she sighed and settled against his chest. This was where she wanted to be, wrapped in his arms. Maybe he'd let her stay here forever. Without ceremony, he sat her down in one of the chairs and pushed her head between her knees, promptly ending her fantasy. Within moments, reality reasserted itself and Erihn felt stable enough to raise her head. Fayne sat in the chair next to her, trying to stop the bleeding with a kitchen towel. She smiled faintly, her stomach rolling at the sight of the bloody cloth. She swallowed audibly. "Sorry." He grinned and her heart stuttered. "My heart needed a jump start anyway. Do you always faint at the sight of blood?" "Only my own." She made the mistake of looking at the bloody towel again and her stomach gave a heave. "Is it bad?" she hissed. "I don't think so. Can you feel this?" He pinched the end of her finger. "Ow, quit that." "Can you move your fingers?" Erihn wiggled her fingers cautiously. "It hurts." "It should, you just put a dent in your hand. It might need stitches." Emphatic, she shook her head. "Not an option unless my fingers are hanging off. Even then, I might learn to type with my nose." "Afraid of needles?" His tone was gentle. "Nope, just the smell of hospitals and antiseptic will be enough to send me off the deep end. I had

enough of them when..." He gave an abrupt nod. "Let's get this cleaned up." Erihn was grateful when Fayne helped her to her feet, mainly because she was still feeling wobbly and also because it felt good to lean on someone for a change. He walked her into the house and directed her to the kitchen. He left her at the sink as he grabbed a stool from the corner. He positioned it in front of the sink and guided her onto it. He turned on the cool water and removed the towel. She shut her eyes. The sight of the wound caused her stomach to roll again. "This is going to sting," he warned. She sucked in a breath as he held her hand under the water. It did sting and then some. Tears blurred her vision as he rinsed the wound of blood and wine. "It doesn't look too bad, it just bled a lot," he pronounced. "I need to check for glass particles, though." Erihn drew in a shaky breath, then nodded. "Okay." Fayne squeezed her shoulder, then left to retrieve the first aid kit from the downstairs bathroom. "Are you sure you don't want to go to the emergency center?" He set the plastic box on the counter. "Yes, I'm sure. Besides, we can't get around the landslide." "I'll get you down this mountain on my back if I have to." She gave a weak chuckle, then risked a glance at her hand. Blood still oozed from the wound and her hand looked unnaturally pale. "I can fix it if you can't." "You're right-handed and this is your right hand." He popped open the plastic lid of the kit and rooted around, looking for the tweezers. "You're so stubborn," he muttered. She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him. She watched as he unearthed the tweezers and several types of bandages. He reached for her hand and she flinched as his fingers brushed her wrist. His gaze met hers. "I'll be as quick as I can." Erihn's throat tightened as tears spilled over. She wiped at them with her uninjured hand before smiling tremulously and nodding that she was ready. She flinched again as he poked at the wound. "Tell me about your son," her voice wobbled. Fayne chuckled. "My son is the best thing that ever happened to me. He's bright, he's gifted, and he's a heck of a lot of fun to be around." "And you're not one bit biased, are you?" Her voice caught and she tried to clear her throat of the obstruction that had formed there. "Not one bit."

Erihn's heart twisted. Had her father ever thought of her like that? Probably not. Arthur Spencer had been a frozen, forbidding man who'd expected his wife to manage the kids and the house without complaint. His children had been expected to do their chores, bring home good grades and never question his judgments. Loving his children or even playing with them had been a foreign concept. She gave a squeak as Fayne hit a particularly sensitive spot. "Almost done," he soothed. She watched him, hunched over the countertop, picking slivers of glass out of her palm. His hair was damp from a recent shower and it brushed his shoulders. The florescent lighting made it appear a dull brown rather than the rich reddish brown it was in the sun. His concentration was keen and his expression intense as he worked. He was beautiful, but he was also so much more than that. He was kind and generous and he seemed to love his son to distraction. What more could a woman want? Fayne stepped back and his backside brushed her leg, drawing her attention to the seat of his jeans. He had the best butt she'd seen in her entire life. It was almost impossible for her to believe this man had spent almost the entire afternoon making love to her. She shifted, savoring the faint twinge of her abused thigh muscles. Images of their bodies entwined brought a rush of heat to her cheeks and she glanced down at the floor. His feet. Damn! Even his feet were sexy. When in the world did she decide feet were sexy? What kind of a strange kink was that? Next thing, she'd get arrested for visiting shoe stores, hoping to catch glimpses of naked toes! He straightened. "There now, all done." He frowned as he looked at her. "Are you okay? You look flushed." She nodded jerkily and couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze. "Yes, I'm fine thanks." "This is going to sting." Fayne picked up a bottle of antiseptic and liberally soaked the wounded area. The burning sensation brought more tears to her eyes, and he bent over to blow gently on her stinging skin. After a few seconds, the pain faded. Efficiently, he soaked a gauze pad in the liquid and secured it over the wound. Taking more pads and gauze bandages, he covered, then wrapped, her hand, securing it with tape. "There you go." Erihn was impressed with Fayne's efficiency in the first aid process. "Where did you learn how to do that?" "When you have kids, you learn fast," he chuckled, then looked at her, his expression appalled. "I'm sorry, I didn't think." She forced a smile. "I've had seventeen years to get used to the idea, Fayne. You don't have to apologize." He reached for her, cupping her cheek with his hand. His palm felt hot against her skin. "I'm sorry you

had to go through that." Erihn slid off the seat and moved away, her chest tight. "I was the lucky one. I lived." "There were others?" His tone was incredulous. "Yes, six others. He killed them all." She turned away. She didn't know why she was talking about her nightmare. She didn't like to think about it, let alone speak of it. There were times when it seemed so long ago, as if it had happened to someone else. It was almost like a dream she had once that lingered in the back of her mind. But there were times it was real, very real-like in the middle of the night when she woke to the sound of her own strangled screams. "What happened?" Erihn turned and walked into the dining room, fixing her gaze out the dining room window. The darkness reflected her image. She wrapped her arms about her waist and embraced her nightmare. "There are times I fear I'll never be warm again." She shook her head. "I don't know where to begin." In the window, she watched as Fayne entered the dining room. He carried a bottle of scotch and two small glasses. "Start wherever you need to." She gingerly flexed her fingers, noting her hand was beginning to throb. She didn't want to tell this story. It was one she'd lived through in her mind a thousand times and she avoided the darkness that lingered there still. "I grew up in a small town in Nebraska and all I ever wanted was to leave. I guess that isn't so unusual. Many kids think their hometowns are the most boring places in the universe. In reality, mine wasn't so bad." The tinkle of liquid had her turning her head in time to see him pouring Scotch into the glasses. She smiled when she saw the plastic cup with cartoon figures on the outside. He handed her the cup, his eyes twinkling. "It's Max's, but I don't think he'd mind. I didn't feel up to doctoring you again." She accepted the glass and tipped it in his direction as if to toast him. "Don't worry, I think all is under control now." She took a small sip of the liquid and winced as it burned down her throat. "Go on." Erihn turned to the window. It was easier to speak if she wasn't looking at him. "Like I said, I don't know that there's much to tell. I left home when I was barely sixteen, and I never looked back. My parents were very strict and, the moment I could, I rebelled against them. I stayed out all night and I ran with the wild kids." She laughed and shook her head at her own misspent follies. "And do you want to know what the worst part is? I never did anything bad. I was too afraid." She took another drink. "I left home the summer of my sixteenth birthday. I went to New York and lucked out big time. I could have ended up like so many runaways at the time, jobless and on the streets selling myself for food.

Instead, I landed a job at Saks, selling perfume and, within weeks, I was doing runway modeling for another large chain of stores. They did fashion shows four times a year, and I'd traipse up and down the runway, wearing clothing no average mortal would wear in a lifetime. I picked up some other gigs and made my way okay. Then came my moment of glory." Erihn swirled the liquor in her glass. "Serena Del Toro was looking for a model to represent her line of clothing. Serena was a scrapper and she couldn't afford a name, so she set out to find a striking unknown she could mold into her image of the Del Toro woman. She found me. "In the months following my...accident, I'd wondered what would have happened to me if we'd never met. Where would I be and what would I be doing? Not that it really matters, I guess. What's done is done. Jennifer says it isn't what happens that can kill you, it's the 'what ifs'." She shrugged, then downed the contents of the glass. A little Dutch courage never hurt anyone. "I'd taken a assignment to do the fall clothing catalog and the shoot was set up in Central Park. It was a normal shoot, took about three days, I guess. I was walking back to the clothing trailer when a man came up to me. He told me Miguel, Serena's husband, had sent a car for me and they wanted to talk with me right away. I thought they wanted to speak to me about a spring shoot in the South of France. So I ran into the trailer, changed as fast as I could. I was so excited. This would've been my first trip abroad. I came out and the man was there, waiting for me, and we left." She turned, her hand trembled as she reached for the bottle. "I knew something wasn't right. The Del Toro's lived in Tribeca in a loft apartment. When I questioned him, he said they were going to meet me at a friend's house just north of the city. A few minutes later, I questioned him again and that's when I knew something was up. He told me if I did him a little favor, he wouldn't hurt me, and, afterward, he'd let me go." Erihn's voice broke and she fought for control. She wouldn't allow herself to break. Crying wasn't an option. "I was so frightened and I began to fight. I tried to grab the steering wheel and yank it out of his hands, and he hit me in the face." She raised her hand and brushed her fingertips over her jaw. "I don't remember much of what happened after that. My shrink thinks I have stress-induced amnesia and I don't want to remember." She shrugged. "I don't know of anyone who wouldwant to remember any of it. All I remember are fragments, odd bits and pieces that don't make sense. I have... flashbacks, for lack of a better term." She took another sip. "That's what happened to you on the steps?" His voice startled her. She hadn't forgotten he was there, but he'd been silent for so long, she'd been lulled into a false sense of security. She nodded, her throat tightening. "It doesn't happen often, and I try to mitigate the risk of it reoccurring. I can't sleep in the dark. I won't go into any cellars and I can't stand being underground." She shuddered. "As long as I'm really dead when they bury me, they shouldn't have any trouble." Her attempt at humor fell flat. "He kept you in a cellar?" "Yes. A cellar dug under an old barn. It was dank, wet and very secluded. It was the perfect place for murder, as no one would ever find me. The police told me I'd been missing for three days, but I couldn't remember. I had no way of marking the passage of time." She fell silent, remembering the long hours of

darkness, alternating between fear and anger. Praying Chapman would never return to hurt her and hoping he wouldn't leave her to die in the darkness alone. "What did he do?" "You name it, he did it." Her voice was flat and she congratulated herself on keeping her emotions under wraps. She took another drink of the numbing liquid. "Over and over and over again." Her voice trailed off. "How did the police find you?" Erihn sighed. "An anonymous tip. They showed up on the third day and questioned him. Everything checked out, but the detective in charge had a sneaking suspicion all wasn't well. He watched the house for several hours and saw Chapman packing his car to leave. The shovels and garbage bags are what gave him away." She shuddered, not wanting to think about what he might've had in mind for her. "He came back to the cellar with the police hot on his tail. They didn't realize I wasn'tin the barn, but under it. They surrounded the place and called to Chapman, but, by then, he was in the cellar with me." Erihn closed her eyes as the images inundated her. The yellow light and the scent of the kerosene lantern, Chapman yanking her to her feet, his blade slashing her vulnerable skin. The sound of her screams bouncing off the walls, the ear-splitting roar of the gun and the splatter on the wall. They were images she'd take to her grave. Erihn jumped as warm hands touched her shoulders, the cup tumbling from her numb fingers. The scent of Fayne surrounded her as he wrapped his arms around her, tugging her into the warmth of his body. She shivered. "He left me for dead." "But you're alive," he whispered into her ear. "I'll never understand." Tears came, thick and furious, and she tried to blink them away, but it was too late. Silently, they raced down her cheeks. "How can someone dothat to someone? He'd never met me, he didn't know any of those women, and he destroyed their lives and their families." Her knees buckled as she began sobbing in earnest. He wrapped his arms around her and turned her toward his abandoned chair. He sat down, pulled her into his lap and cuddled her to his chest. Erihn shivered, clinging to him as if she could climb under his skin. "You may never understand why it happened." His voice was deep as it rumbled against her ear. She went limp against him and closed her eyes. She was so tired and felt so old and she couldn't bear the thought of having to move. She shivered. "I'm cold," she blurted. "Do you want me to get you a blanket?" Erihn shook her head. She knew one thing that could warm her again. She opened her eyes and raised her head to look into those unforgettable violet eyes. As long as she lived, she would never forget the only man to hold her in his arms. "Make love with me."

Astonishment crossed Fayne's face and her heart stopped. Stupid, stupid girl! What were you thinking? You sit there and tell him what some monster did to you, thinking could he want you after that? She stiffened and averted her eyes. She gave into the urge to retreat and started to pull away. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. I'm a mess and I've just cried all over you and you're shirt's damp and..." She was babbling. Mortification heated her cheeks. His arms tightened around her, cutting off her words. He raised his hand, one strong finger stroked the line of her jaw, and she quivered beneath his touch. Cautiously, she met his gaze, finding only acceptance there. With reverence, he traced her lower lip, then moved to follow the line of her nose and stroke her brow. He migrated slowly over each inch of her face, tracing the scar from beginning to end, as if he were memorizing her every feature, every blemish. There was an almost worshipful expression on his face. "My lady warrior," his voice was rough with emotion. "It would be an honor to make love with you." Her heart gave a leap as he brushed his lips over hers. She held her breath as he repeated the gesture, this time lingering a split second longer. He touched her as if she were a fragile china doll, something to be treasured. She closed her eyes as tears gathered, threatening to spill over. He enticed her to open for him, his tongue teasing the seam of her mouth. She parted her lips, her tongue brushed the tip of his and a shiver ran down her spine as the taste of aged scotch and Fayne dazzled her palate. Erihn moaned as his taste triggered an answering ache between her thighs. She leaned into him, running her hands over the wide expanse of his chest. The plain white T-shirt clung to his muscular frame and showcased his amazing pectorals. She wanted it off now. Her tongue dueled with his as her hands went south. She pressed her breasts against his warmth as his big hands cupped her buttocks and gently squeezed. Her fingers located the buttons on his fly and she managed to get one undone before his hand reached up and cupped her breast. His thumb brushed the pearled tip before returning for a slow sensual caress. Erihn nipped at his lower lip as she abandoned his buttons to cup his expanding erection. Beneath her questing fingers, he grew. Erihn broke the kiss and pulled back to watch the process with great fascination. Under her ministrations, his jeans grew tighter as he lengthened and thickened. "Fascinating," she whispered. "Glad you're impressed." He sounded amused. "How long do you intend to keep that up?" "How long can you keep it up?" Erihn laughed. "As long as it takes," he purred. Erihn blushed and averted her gaze. "I want to take your shirt off." She closed her eyes as she felt him pulse beneath her. She could feel his heartbeat through her palm.

"That isn't my shirt." She opened her eyes and met his heated gaze. "I got distracted." She drew her hand away. "Take off your shirt." His eyes twinkled. "Take off your panties." She licked her lips and his gaze flicked to her tongue. A shiver went through her as she got to her feet, giving a little shimmy in his lap, eliciting a stifled moan from him. She smiled, "You first." Erihn stepped away as Fayne rose to his feet. He towered over her as he undid his jeans, his gaze never leaving her face. She held her breath as he gripped the bottom of the shirt and drew it up, revealing taut golden skin and rippling muscles and his wicked thorn tattoo. With a flick, he pulled the shirt over his head and tossed it carelessly onto the table. She reached for him, her fingertips brushing his stomach before he captured her wrist. Startled, she met his gaze. He smiled. "Not until you keep your end of the bargain." He pressed a kiss to her palm, then released her. Erihn cocked a brow at him. He wanted her panties off, did he? She drew her black cardigan off, revealing a slim spaghetti strap dress in dark amber. She fisted the soft material on each thigh and slowly raised the hem, revealing her legs. His gaze was rapt as he watched her reveal each inch. His breathing deepened and she could scarcely contain herself as he licked his lips. She halted mid-thigh and snaked a hand beneath her skirt and tugged her panties down without revealing herself to him. She laughed as they dropped to the floor, and she released the material of her skirt. "You're a cheater," he accused. "You never saidhow I had to take them off," she pointed out. "Humph, we'll see about that." Before Erihn could move to safety, Fayne dropped to his knees before her and captured the backs of her thighs. She shrieked as his mouth covered her through the thin cotton. She put her hands on his head to retain her balance as heat flowed through her limbs. She shuddered as her moisture dampened the cotton along with his mouth. "Fayne," she hissed, her knees wobbling. He stopped. Releasing her thighs, he grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it up as he arose. She reached for his fly, her hand curling around him as his lips came down on hers. She opened beneath him, taking him deep inside her mouth. She suckled his tongue as she stroked him, heat racing through her blood as he clasped her hips and he thrust gently against her palm. His arms slid around her waist and he led her back to the dining room chair. She released him reluctantly and he sat down and pulled her spread-eagled into his lap. Erihn sighed as he stretched and filled her. Her eyes closed as sensation pooled between her thighs. He rocked against her as she cried out his

name. "Oh my..." she breathed. She licked her lips. "If I had this..." She braced her feet on the floor and lifted herself, making him moan. "I'd never leave the house." Fayne's hand skimmed her shoulders and brushed the straps of her dress down to bare her breasts. "And, if I had these, I'd never leave the couch." Her breath left her in a rush as his lips brushed her nipple before opening and taking her inside. She twined her fingers in his hair as she began moving against him in earnest. Need spiraled higher and higher until reality was only a pinpoint of light on the horizon of her mind. Strong hands stroked her, guiding her hips as she trembled against him, her release so near and yet so far. "Fayne," she panted. "Please." "Shhh." He kissed her throat. "I'll take care of you." She clung to his shoulders as he slipped a hand low between their bodies. Unerringly, he found her little nub of pleasure and, within seconds, she took her release. Sparks flashed behind her eyelids as rapture sang through her veins. Against her, Fayne stiffened as she stroked him into his own orgasm. Afterward, she sagged against his chest, luxuriating in the feeling of his arms around her. Nothing had ever felt so right.

Edward smiled as his servant, Miles, ushered Ivan Daniels into the room. His secluded condominium at the Christiania resort assured him maximum privacy and ultimate comfort as he carried out his conference with Mr. Daniels. His gaze flicked over the diminutive man, assessing his neat blue suit and freshly scrubbed appearance. He was of little value to Edward personally, but he had the power to deliver what Edward needed with a minimum of fuss. He had every intention of using him to the fullest. "Mr. Edwards, my name is Ivan Daniels, and I understand you have a proposition for me?" Ivan held his hand out as if to shake with him. Edward ignored the overture. He preferred not to touch mortals unless they provided his dinner. He glanced at Miles and nodded to indicate it was okay to leave them alone. Edward didn't miss Ivan's worried glance at the door as it closed. When Ivan looked back, Edward indicated he should sit in one of the two armchairs arranged before the fireplace. After Ivan seated himself, Edward took the remaining chair for himself. He picked up a large white tablet of paper and a fountain pen, then wrote in large block letters,I know why you're here. Ivan frowned as Edward held up the tablet for him to read. He shook his head. "You must be mistaken." Edward noted the sweat on Ivan's pasty skin. He wrote,The Spencer woman. I can lead you right to her. Ivan's eyes widened as he read the words, and he licked his lips nervously. "How did you find out?" he

whispered. I have my ways. I'll hand her into your care if-and only if-you do something for me. Ivan frowned, then nodded cautiously. "Go on." She has in her possession a book, a diary. I want it back. Ivan looked relieved. "Just a book?" Not just any book, I want the diary. "How do I get it away from her?" I don't care how you get it, just bring me the book.He kicked a small leather satchel in Ivan's direction.Your reward once you've delivered it. Ivan bent and unzipped the satchel. His eyes went wide at the amount of money neatly stacked inside. "Oh my...." There's something else. "I don't have to hurt her, do I?" Ivan whispered. She is staying with a man who kidnapped my son. I want to know where my son is. Ivan's eyes grew wide. "Do you think Erihn had anything to do with this?" Possibly. I have no doubt she knows where my child is hidden. Ivan nodded. "I can believe Ms. Spencer is involved in something as unsavory as a kidnapping. She's a poor moral influence on her readers." Edward smiled inwardly as the man launched into a long-winded recitation of Erihn's supposed crimes. Mortals. What malleable fools they were. Soon he'd have both the diary and Max in his possession. Mikhail would be quite pleased with his work and, surely, he'd deserve a boon from his old friend. A very special boon. Once he took care of Fayne, everything would be back on track and his world would be as it should. Even now, he could feel Max coming closer to Colorado and Edward could almost taste victory.

Chapter 9 Fayne caught himself humming as he walked into the basement guestroom, intent on finding clean clothes. He looked into the closet and saw only a few empty hangers dangling there. He glanced at his overflowing clothesbasket. It looked like he'd have to do laundry, not to mention wash the sheets he'd

dirtied yesterday. He retrieved clean linens from the closet and efficiently stripped and remade the bed. He caught sight of Erihn's book on the nightstand as he tossed the pillows at the head of the bed. A wicked grin curved his lips as he abandoned his domestic duties. Walking to the nightstand, he picked up the paperback and flopped onto the unmade bed. Maybe it was time to see what Erihn did with her time. After all, if they were going to continue this relationship after he dealt with Edward, then maybe he needed to know exactly how she made her living. He grinned. Maybe he could help her with research. His cock stirred to life at the thought of Erihn, warm and soft in the bed two floors above him. "Down, boy," he muttered. He looked at the cover of the book. Black with gold embossed print. He grinned when he read the title. "Velvet Lover. I like it all ready." He flipped the book over and read the back cover copy. Sharon Walls has received an unexpected gift. When her best friend conducts a bachelor auction for a local charity, it never occurred to her to buy a man for the evening. It was barbaric! When Bettina presents her with a man of her very own for her thirty-fifth birthday, Sharon finds that, instead of being an average everyday kind of guy, she discovers a man with mysterious power over animals and a strange magnetic pull of her senses. Brand Slayton is no ordinary man. He is a breed of being known among the preternatural underground as a were-cat. A mysterious... Fayne stopped, his jaw dropped. Were-cat? He scanned the text again. She had written a romance novel about his line? He flipped the book over and stared hard at the cover. What were the ramifications of this? It was possible she'd dreamed up the entire were-cat concept. It wouldn't be completely unheard of, as werewolves were common in preternatural myth. It was also entirely possible that other breeds of animals such as himself could exist, not that he'd ever heard of any other than werewolves. His lip curled. What an unruly bunch they were. He stared at the paperback in his hands and resisted the urge to hurl it against the wall. How could she have done this? Where did she get the information? Forcing himself to remain calm, he opened to the first page and began to read.

Fayne's stomach rolled as he exited the basement several hours later, her book clenched in one hand. Erihn had been gone for over an hour. He was alone, and he was on a mission. Her briefcase sat by the coffee table where she'd left it. Ignoring the voices in his head that were telling him he was being unreasonable, he dumped the contents on the floor. Dropping to his knees, he began to sift through the items. He glanced at the book titles before tossing them aside, opting to concentrate on the notebook and the handwritten notes.

Opening the notebook, he scanned the contents, most of which were vague story ideas. He skipped through the pages until he came to the character notes. ...were-cat around 30...very animal, almost wild...amazing sexual powers, the ability to sustain multiple orgasms...turns into a cat at night to build upon his powers...ability to see well at night...rides a motorcycle and wears a leather jacket...has a son whom he has "adopted"... Fayne snarled. No one would use his son as fodder for a book. No one. He glanced around, looking for the wooden box and the mysterious book she'd kept inside. It wasn't here. He frowned. Maybe she'd taken it with her? Why would she take the book with her unless she feared he'd find it? Right now, she had no reason to think he'd caught on to her game. She was in for a rude awakening. He shoved the books back into the case and picked up the notebook. He was a fool. Rage erupted from his chest in the form of a wild snarl as he rose to his feet and stalked out onto the deck. The brilliant sunshine poured down on his head and he tasted his own anguish, bitter on his tongue. He threw back his head, betrayal hot and thick in his mouth. His hands fisted, papers crunching as he screamed, "ERIHN...."

Erihn stared in the mirror, mesmerized by the woman she saw. Gone was the dowdy, oversized clothing and thick heavy hair she'd hid behind for so many years. This woman was stylish in an above-the-knee brown suede skirt, cream silk blouse and a gold blazer. She'd cut her hair to three inches below her shoulders. The front was layered to give it a fuller look and to hide some of her scar. She didn't even look like the same woman. Erihn glanced down at the pile of her old clothing, then back at the woman in the mirror. She'd abandoned her protective armor and emerged a completely different person. She didn't feel the same at all, inside or out. "Here it is!" Carole, the owner of the boutique, walked into the spacious dressing room with a long gold chain in one hand and a box under her arm. "This belt will be perfect, and here are the shoes I was telling you about." Erihn grinned self-consciously. As a model, she'd had to wear some very scanty clothing. But that was years ago when her thighs were in better shape. She hadn't worn a skirt this short in a very long time. "I don't know about this..." she began. Carole handed over the belt. "It's perfect. You have great legs. Flaunt them, honey." She gave a conspiratorial wink. "I know I would if I were you."

Erihn slipped the chain link belt around her waist and clipped it on. The end dangled several inches above the hem. Carole pulled the heels from the box and handed them to her. She stepped into the shoes, placing her hand on the wall for balance. "It's been a while." She looked at her legs in the mirror. The heels did make them look impossibly long and shapely. If men only knew what women went through to look good. She grinned and admired her sleek limbs. While heels weren't exactly comfortable, they certainly were sexy. "Perfect," Carole announced. Erihn smiled. "Box everything except what I'm wearing." "Great." Carole stooped to pick up the discarded clothing. "What should I do with these?" Erihn glanced at the drab bundle in her hands. "Burn them." Carole laughed and hustled off to do her bidding. Wouldn't Fayne be surprised when he saw her? Maybe she could entice him back to bed for the rest of the afternoon. Erihn unbuttoned another button on the shirt, showing a hint of generous curves and a shadow of the delicate lace on her new ivory bra. That might do it. Knowing Fayne's voracious appetite, it wouldn't take much. In short order, her purchases were packed and the stock boy hauled them out to her car parked in back of the store. Erihn stepped into the sunshine, relieved of several hundred dollars in traveler's checks and much lighter of heart. She slipped her sunglasses on and walked toward the corner, her step brisk. Behind her, she heard a loud whistle and Erihn glanced over her shoulder to see two young men dressed in hiking clothes, eyeing her wolfishly. An impish urge made her raise her hand and wiggle her fingers at them. Still looking over her shoulder, she reached turned the corner and slammed into someone, rocking back on her heels. "I'm so sorry," Erihn gave a squeak as icy hands grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her against the building. She froze when she saw the towering albino who held her captive. He resembled a skeleton; thin to the point of emaciation and his skin was icy cold. She felt the chill through the lightweight woolen blazer. A yelp escaped her as he raised his hand and drew a glacial finger down her scarred face, a smile of satisfaction curving his mouth. A whimper escaped her as his finger caressed her throat and headed toward her exposed cleavage. A cry locked in her throat as a shout drew the man's attention. The two men who'd whistled at her earlier were walking across the street toward them, frowns on their faces. She held her breath as the albino released her, stepping back ever so slightly. His expression regretful, he gave her a meager bow as if to say he was sorry they were about to be interrupted. Erihn avoided the mocking eyes as she whirled away. Sobs broke from her lips as she lunged for freedom. The parking lot seemed so far away. Her heels skidded on the gravel and, with a shriek, she went down on her hands and knees. Pain shot from her injured hand up her arm as she hit the ground. Ignoring it, she stumbled to her feet and ran for the car. She heard a shout and turned, fearfully.

The two men stood on the corner looking confused and the albino was nowhere to be seen. She glanced around the crowded gravel lot to ensure he hadn't followed her. It was empty except for her. She ran to the car, opened the door and slid behind the wheel. After a few tries with trembling hands, she rammed the key home and started the car. Her hand ached; she glanced at her palm. Blood was seeping through the bandages. She'd torn her hand open again. Erihn put the car in gear and moved out of her parking space. Her heart raced, her breath coming in gasps as she pulled onto the street. The streetlight was red and she stopped to allow a crowd of tourists to pass. Bowing her head, she bit her lip and shuddered. Who was that horrible man and what did he want? She looked up as the crowd dispersed, then shock made the blood run from her face. The albino stood in the crosswalk directly in front of her car. A whimper broke from her throat as her hands fisted on the wheel. The albino smiled as if he were enjoying her fear. Tears raced down her cheeks as she fought the urge to run him over. There was nothing she hated more than feeling like a victim, which was exactly what this man was doing to her. She was allowing him to do this to her, to reduce her to a sniveling wreck. Her eyes narrowed as she squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze dead on. The light turned green and the Albino smiled once more before moving on, oblivious to the honking horns of aggravated drivers behind her. Erihn hit the gas pedal as soon as he was out of the way, peeling out in a screech of tires and the smell of burning rubber.

Fayne walked to the door as he heard the crunch of gravel in the drive. Erihn was back. His stomach knotted as he opened the door, expecting to see her rental car. Instead, an unfamiliar black Acura pulled into a parking space beside the drive. As it came to a stop, the passenger's side door flew open and a small, dark- haired boy got out. He spied Fayne and began running toward him. "Daddy!" The child shrieked and threw himself into Fayne's arms. Bewildered, Fayne captured the child, hugging him tightly to his chest. Max had called him daddy for the first time. Tears stung his eyes as the scent of his son surrounded him. The unique mixture of little boy sweat, a touch of dirt and the sweet smell of candy. His Max. He opened his eyes in time to see Bliss exit the car. Dressed in pink pants and a white T-shirt, she looked as fresh as a daisy. He'd never guessed she'd just spent the last twenty hours traveling. She walked toward him, her expression tight. "Bliss?" "Max had a nightmare and demanded he be brought back to you." Bliss' gaze told him she'd elaborate later.

Fayne leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, then straightened. Max still clung to him. He tightened his arms around the little person who'd stolen his heart. He wouldn't be able to bear it if anything happened to this child. He cleared his throat and ruffled the child's hair. "Did you have a good time, Max-a-million?" Max released his grip on Fayne's neck and pulled away to look at his father. His heart clenched as he saw his son's dark brown eyes were shadowed with fear. "He's coming for me." He'd never quite grown used to Max's ability toknow things. His talent was uncanny, not to mention frightening. He hugged Max fiercely, anger igniting in his gut. "Don't you worry, Maxi, no one will ever hurt you again. I swear."

Erihn's heart pounded as she scrambled in the front door. "Fayne?" "Outside," Fayne's voice sounded from the deck. She ran on wobbly legs through the living room, then out onto the deck, skidding to a stop when she saw he wasn't alone. A tiny woman stood with him, wrapped in his arms in a hug. She was smiling up at Fayne, her lashes sparkling with tears. She was possibly the most beautiful creature she'd ever seen. Erihn cringed. She felt unkempt in her tattered clothing. Her hand had bled all over her new jacket and her stockings were shredded. She had gravel embedded in one knee and blood trailed down her leg. She'd abandoned her shoes in the car when they'd impeded her driving. In short, she was a mess. She felt like something the cat had dragged in. "Are you okay?" The tiny blonde spoke as she stepped out of Fayne's embrace, her expression concerned. Erihn glanced at him; his expression was remote, forbidding, before it quickly turned to a frown as he took in her tattered appearance. Stunned by his lack of response she turned away, forcing herself to nod at the blonde. "I'm fine. I hurt my hand yesterday, and I accidentally tore it open again." Feeling very uncomfortable, she forced a weak smile and indicated her hand. "I guess I should get this taken care of." She turned and walked into the living room, not allowing herself to run. She could feel Fayne's gaze bore into her back as she retreated. Tears stung her eyes as her abraded knees protested the number of steps before her. The main staircase looked like a mountain, and she bit her lip. Starting up, she winced with every step. The doorway to the master bedroom beckoned her. Stepping into the room, she was painfully aware of the sheets rumpled from their lovemaking. The scent of sex lingered in the air. She resisted the urge to collapse on the chaise and sob her eyes out. While she didn't agree with a lot of things her parents had done to her as a child, one thing was for sure; her mother hadn't raised a weakling and she'd do well to remember that. First things first. She walked to the sliding glass door and threw it open, allowing fresh air to sweep the memories away. Dark clouds were forming on the horizon. Her heart sank. The last thing the mountains needed was more rain. New landslides were occurring

almost everyday and several houses had been destroyed, swept right off the soggy mountainsides. She turned away from the forbidding clouds, escaping into the bathroom. She eased her jacket off and, with a regretful sigh, stuffed it into the trashcan. It was ruined. She picked up a pair of scissors and began to cut the bandages off her hand. Who was the blonde woman and what did she mean to Fayne? Was she a lover that he'd neglected to mention? Inwardly, she rebelled at that theory. He was a trustworthy fellow and he... You've only known him for a few days... Erihn sniffed and dropped the bloody bandages into the trashcan. That was true. He was a virtual stranger to her. Who kissed like a bandit... "What good is that when you can't trust him?" she muttered, turning on the water. He saved you on the steps... "I came home and found another woman in his arms." Tears began flowing in earnest as she washed the blood off her hand, her stomach rolling. She winced when she saw the wound. She'd done a number on herself all right. The wound was torn open and looked as bad as it had last night. Maybe they're just friends... "And maybe I'm a fool," she sniffed again. "Erihn?" Fayne's voice sounded from the bedroom. "In here." She snatched a washcloth off the vanity and struggled to dry her tears left-handed. It wasn't easy. She dropped the cloth as he came through the doorway. She refused to look at him, concentrating on carefully drying her injured hand. "I brought the antiseptic." His voice was flat, emotionless. "Thank you," she mumbled, holding out her left hand. "I'll do it." "No, thank you. I can take care of myself." "Suit yourself." He set the bottle on the vanity, then leaned against the doorway as if to watch the show. "Was there something you needed?" She picked up the bottle and struggled to open the flip top cap. "We need to talk." Erihn managed to pop the top open, her hand trembling under his scrutiny. "About what?" She was pleased her tone sounded unconcerned. She awkwardly tried to squirt the solution on the wound and missed, dousing the marble counter instead.

"Let me." Fayne took the bottle and held her hand over the sink. He didn't speak as he worked. He efficiently cleaned and re-bandaged the wound, his touch impersonal. As he finished, he let go of her immediately and stepped away as if he couldn't stand to be near her any longer. Her heart cracked. "Thank you," she mumbled. His brow knitted as he looked at her damaged knees. "What did you manage to do to yourself?" "I fell down," she said shortly. "I can see that." "Fayne, I appreciate your help, but I can take care of myself." He waved at hand at her knees. "I see how well you manage. What happened, Erihn?" "I told you, I fell down." Tears burned her eyes and, suddenly, she couldn't take it anymore. She'd been terrorized, her hands and knees hurt and she'd come home to find her lover with a beautiful woman in his arms. The writing was on the wall and she had to get far away from him before she fell apart completely. "I'll be leaving. Today, in fact." Fayne's gaze bore into hers. She stepped back as the anger ignited in his eyes. "Of course you are," he lashed out. "You have everything you wanted from me." Erihn frowned. "What are you talking about?" "I found your notes." "What notes?" She was perplexed. "The notes you made about me." He growled and turned. "About my kind." She caught the flash of pain in his eyes before he turned his back to her. "Fayne, what are you talking about?" She jumped as he turned. Quick as a cat, his arm snaked out and his hand wrapped around her wrist. She gave a yelp as his fingers tightened and he pulled her into the bedroom. His grip gentled as her led her to the bed. Her briefcase sat on the bed where he must've set it when he brought it upstairs. "Explain that." He released her wrist abruptly. Erihn looked at the briefcase. Crumpled papers stuck out of the open top, making it obvious he'd gone through it. "I still don't understand. What do you want me to explain? Why did you go through my briefcase?" A snarl curled his lip. He reached for the bag, dumping its contents on the bed. He scooped up the notebook and flipped through the pages. Finding the page he wanted, he dropped it onto the bed then pointed at it.

"Explain why youused me as research." Erihn blinked. He thought the were-cat washim? She scanned the notes he was pointing to. ...were-cat around 30... amazing sexual powers, the ability to sustain multiple orgasms...turns into a cat at night to build upon his powers... motorcycle and wears a leather jacket...has a son whom he has "adopted"... She shook her head. "Fayne, this isn't about you," she said. "I'll admit you gave me a few ideas such as the motorcycle, but that's about it." "What about the part about a child? What about my son?" She shook her head again. "Fayne, I didn't know about Max when I wrote this. Besides, this has nothing to do with you." "What about a were-cat's abilities? Where did you do your research?" She was confused. "I don't understand. You think I modeled the were-cat after you? That's impossible. I wroteVelvet Lover long before I even met you. It was in that book I introduced my were-cats." "I think you used me as research because you know I'm a were-cat. That's what I think." Erihn froze. Fayne thought he was a were-cat? Was he mad? Yes, he'd told her he was a were-cat while they were making love yesterday, but she'd thought he was kidding. Were-cats didn't exist, they were a figment of someone's imagination. A trill of alarm went through her. Was he the letter writer who'd been threatening her? "Fayne," Erihn strove for a calm voice. "Were-cats don't exist. I found a book in Val's library and I took the information from that." "Where's the book?" "In my purse in the car. Fayne, how can you believe you're a were-cat? I mean..." Erihn faltered as a horrific thought occurred to her. What if he was doing this to drive her away? She swallowed audibly. "If you want me to leave, I'll go. Just don't sit there and use excuses to get rid of me." "Don't even try and turn this on me, Erihn. You know you did me wrong. You know you lied to me and used me forresearch ," he fairly spat the word. His eyes were as cold as ice. He spoke and inwardly she cringed. "I want you to leave here and never return while my son and I are in residence." Her heart cracked a little more with each word. She didn't know how to extricate herself, to explain she'd done nothing other than fall in love with the wrong man. Her tortured knees ached as she braced them, forcing herself to remain upright. She wouldn't show weakness in front of this man again, ever. "You're wrong, Fayne. I've done nothing for you to accuse me." Tears stung her eyes and she blinked them back. "I don't know why you're doing this, but, someday, you'll regret it." "I already do." Fayne walked to the door and turned, his eyes empty. "I thought you were an angel sent just for me." He left.

I was and you threw me away. Her knees gave out as she stumbled to the chair. As emotions clogged her throat, she bit her uninjured hand to stifle the sobs that threatened. A low moan built in her chest as silent tears streamed down her cheeks. She pressed her face into the back of the chair as the sound broke forth. How long she sat there and cried, she didn't know. Finally, the tears slowed, the hysteria passed and a blessed numbness settled over her. Erihn staggered to her feet and haphazardly tossed her clothing into the suitcase. She paused to strip off her ruined clothes and stuff them into the trashcan. She never wanted to see them again. She attended her knees, bathing them in antiseptic and slapping a slipshod dressing in place over the worst one. Automatically, she dressed in a pair of comfy black leggings and a long-sleeved black T-shirt. The somber color fit her mood. The howl of the wind steadily increased as she finished packing. Standing in the doorway to the tiny terrace, her tears dried and her shoulders squared, Erihn gazed on the scenery that had been a balm to her soul on so many occasions. Storm clouds danced along the ridge, hovering before making the plunge into the valley. If she wanted to make her escape and not be forced to spend another night in the house, she'd have to hurry. Her bag sat in the doorway. She eyed the mess on the bed. Scooping up the scattered papers and notebooks, she stared at the crumpled pages in her hands. There was no way she could write this book without remembering every moment she'd spent with him. His touch, his laugh. The thought of writing Velvet Rhapsody made her nauseous. Erihn gave a bark of laughter. She was truly a fool. She dropped the pages into the trashcan on top of her suede skirt and ruined stockings. Hopefully, her publisher would understand when she announced no more were-cat books would be written. She stripped the bed, her movements sharp and angry. Damn him for doing this to her. Why couldn't he be honest and just dump her? Instead, he had to lie and use some half-baked story to yank her chain and throw her out of his life when his little girlfriend arrived. Stomping into the hallway, she stuffed the sheets into the laundry chute. Grabbing her bag, she took one last look around, making sure everything was in order. Her gaze lingered on the bed for a moment before she turned away. The house was eerily quiet as if it were waiting for the next drama to unfold. She dropped her bag by the front door and walked into the living room to make sure the windows were properly closed as the first drops of rain splattered on the deck. No one was around. Were they together downstairs even now? Were they making love? Anguish clawed her chest as she walked slowly through the familiar rooms, remembering her and Fayne's scant hours together. She stopped by the front door and saw his leather jacket was gone. He'd left. She picked up her bag, and squared her shoulders. Her hand closed around the doorknob. "Damn him," she muttered, wrenching open the door. A scream caught in the back of her throat as a shadow loomed in the doorway. A man in a red and

black plaid jacket stood on the stoop, his hand raised as if he were about to knock. Rain was coming down harder now, obscuring the cars in the drive a scant twenty-five feet away. "Erihn Spencer?" He yelled to be heard over the rising wind. "Yes, I'm Erihn Spencer." "I need you to come with me. There's been an accident." Alarm raced down her spine and she lost her grip on the bag. "Fayne?" she whispered. The man nodded. "I need you to come with me. He's calling for you." Erihn nodded as fear gripped her chest. She started out the door, stopping when the man stooped to get her bag. "Where is he?" She stepped out into the rain. "There was a landslide below." The man wrapped a hand around her elbow. A trill of trepidation ran down her spine. Could she get into a car with a strange man again? She shoved the thought away. Fayne was injured and he needed her. She didn't have a choice. "Is he...?" Erihn couldn't say it. "No, but he's hurt really bad." She allowed him to lead her to an S.U.V. parked in the drive behind her car. The garage door was open and Fayne's bike was absent. She nodded her thanks as the man opened the door for her. "What's your name?" she blurted. The man smiled. It was a cold little smile. "Ivan, Ivan Daniels. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss." Max stood in the window and watched the big truck turn around, then lumber up the sloping drive, the scarred woman and a funny little man in it. The man was bad. He smelled bad like he'd been near the dead recently. He knew that smell all too well. In a soft, sad little voice he spoke to himself. "He got her..."

Chapter 10 The rain started in earnest as Fayne reached the foot of the mountain. He stopped beneath the I-70 overpass to adjust his jacket collar. Not that it mattered now; he was already soaked to the skin. That's what he got for leaving the house when he knew a storm was coming. He just couldn't remain there a second longer. He glanced up the mountain to the peak where Jennifer's house sat, obscured by heavy clouds. His chest tightened.

Even the weather conspired against him. He grit his teeth. Guess it just wasn't his day. The wind shifted and he caught a whiff of a scent that didn't belong. He stilled. Tilting his head back, he closed his eyes and sniffed the rain-scented air. The scent of mud, rain and car exhaust was underlain with something dark, evil. The scent of death. Fayne opened his eyes to narrow slits. Something was terribly wrong. His lips tightened as he settled on the seat of his bike. Putting it in gear, he began the treacherous ride up the mountain. He could only hope, when he arrived at the house, Erihn hadn't left. It would be foolhardy to leave in such a downpour. Erihn. He gritted his teeth. She'd looked so stricken as she'd protested her innocence. Was she innocent? How could she know the things she'd known? Was her story about the diary true? The wheels of his bike sliding on the wet pavement shook him from his thoughts. Rainwater ran down the sides of the road in steady streams. The earth was soaked to the point where the rain had no place to go other than the road. He passed the section where the landslide had occurred a few days ago. Water trickled in numerous rivulets over the raw, exposed earth. There was just too much of it, and he knew there'd be more slides if this rain kept up. He hunkered lower over the bike, carefully guiding it up the road and into the clouds. Inwardly, he cursed as the weather impeded his progress. Several times he had to steer around debris littering the road. Finally, he reached the gravel drive and breathed a sigh of relief as the house came into view. Alongside the drive, rivers of water ran down the hill, around the side of the house toward the point just beyond the deck in back. Erihn's car remained parked cockeyed in the drive. He pulled his bike into the garage and turned it off. He climbed off, then shed his wet jacket, tossing it over the handlebars of Mac's mountain bike. He opened the door and stepped into the foyer. The unnatural silence of the house surrounded him. He paused, taking note of the surroundings, but scenting no danger. He flipped the wall switch. Nothing happened. He grinned. The power was out. Wouldn't his friends laugh if they knew the great were-cat Fayne was jumpy over the power being off? He walked into the hallway and was surprised to find Max standing in the living room. Max stared transfixed at the flickering flame of a candle with an odd expression on his face. Several lit candles were scattered around the room and a small fire burned in the fireplace, bathing the room in a warm golden glow. "Max?" The child didn't stir; his expression dreamy as if he were listening to music no one else could hear. Fayne walked down the steps, his movements cautious. The boy didn't react when he crouched down beside him. "Maxi?" The child made an inarticulate grunt, then a sigh. Footsteps bounded up from the basement, and Fayne smelled Bliss' perfume before she reached the top

of the basement steps. "Max," he spoke in a sharper tone of voice. The child jerked, then slowly turned toward him. His heart thudded wildly when he saw the flat black of his eyes, a sight he knew far too well. "He has her." Fayne swallowed. "Who?" "He has the woman." He glanced at Bliss and caught her shocked expression. She had several fresh candles in her hands. He turned to Max, "What woman?" "The marked one." "Marked one?" He whispered, horror blossoming in his throat. Max lifted a hand, placed a cold finger on Fayne's cheek, and drew the shape of Erihn's scar. Fayne's stomach knotted as he fought for calm. "Bliss, run upstairs and see if she's in the bedroom." She didn't answer, but he heard the clatter as she dropped the candles on the hall table. Her leather shoes made a slapping noise on the floor tiles as she ran for the steps. "Max, where is the marked woman?" "In a hole." Fayne frowned. "A hole?" "He's coming for me and he's using the little man to help him." "What man?" "The man that took her away. He had squares on." "Squares?" Fear clawed at his throat and he clenched his jaw to prevent a snarl from escaping. "Does he mean plaid?" Bliss appeared in the archway out of breath. "She's gone." "Red and black squares and a green truck." Max blinked as if he were waking from a deep sleep. "I thought you were hurt. That's what the man said." "What happened, son? What happened to the marked woman?" "The man came to the door and said you were hurt. She went with him. He was going to take her to you." Max frowned. "You're not hurt?" Fayne hugged the little boy. "No, I'm not hurt. I need to know where Erihn is, Max. I think she's in

trouble." The boy stuck his lip out; it trembled slightly. "She's in a hole." "What do you mean by a hole?" He shrugged. Fayne's heart constricted. "A cave?" The child nodded. "Where is she, Max?" Max pulled out of Fayne's arms and walked up the steps into the dining room. He pointed out the large window facing the north cliffs. "She's there, in a hole." He grabbed a candle and followed his son into the gloomy room to look out the window. Darkness was falling and heavy clouds obscured the cliffs. Fayne's heart dropped to his stomach. The temperature was dropping rapidly and, in this weather, she wouldn't last long out there. He had to move quickly. "Okay, Max. I need to go get her and bring her back. Can you stay here and take care of Bliss for me?" Max's head tipped to one side, and his expression grew distant. Slowly, he raised a hand to his lips. "I can hear her screams," he whispered. Fayne shot a look at Bliss and she nodded imperceptibly. He smiled his thanks and dropped a quick kiss to his son's forehead. Then he stalked toward the French doors, stripping his clothing as he went. He opened the doors, wincing as the icy rain struck his bare skin. The familiar darkness closed around him as he shut the door. He glanced back to see Bliss in the candlelight as she enfolded his son in her arms. Her gaze met his as she picked the boy up. She nodded and walked into the living room out of his view. Fayne turned to face the North peak. He closed his eyes, reality receding, as he embraced the violet fire and unleashed his beast.

Erihn tasted blood as she slumped to the ground. The earthen floor of the narrow cave was cold and damp beneath her as the scent of mud and mold filled her nose. Darkness flickered on the edge of her consciousness but she refused to give into it. If she had an episode now, she was as good as dead. Ivan stood in the mouth of the cave, two lanterns at his feet, rubbing his knuckles as he watched the rain. A frown played on his lips. "I'm sorry I hit you, but I had to. I had to stop the screaming." She spat blood from her mouth and gingerly rose to her feet. The cave was sharply sloped toward the belly of the mountain. To her right was the cloying darkness and to her left was Ivan. Which of the two evils was worse? "I'm sorry," she mumbled, her tongue growing numb where she'd bitten it. "I shouldn't have screamed." Erihn put her hand on the cold wall to balance herself. Rainwater ran in from the mouth of the cave and

she'd landed on the lowest side of it. A narrow trickle was rapidly becoming a small stream, turning the floor into mud and walking into a hazardous affair. "She shouldn't have screamed either. I had to get her to stop screaming. She just kept going and going. I didn't think she'd ever stop." Erihn froze. What did he mean? Had he killed someone? "Who are you talking about, Ivan?" She held her breath waiting for his answer. "My wife, Mary." Ivan said finally. "I do love her so." She released the breath she'd been holding. So she wasn't dead. "Where is Mary now, Ivan?" Carefully, she began to pick her way to the higher side of the cave. He frowned. "I don't know for sure. She ran off. That's why I had to find you. I need your help to bring her home again." Erihn sat on a narrow, flat piece of rock. It was cold, but at least it was dry and off the floor. "Why do you need my help?" "I need you to get her back for me." Ivan turned. "She loves your books and she reads them all the time. If you write a book in which the man and woman are married, they separate and the woman realizes she made a mistake and they get back together, she'll come back to me." He was mad. She swallowed. What was it with crazy people today? Was it a full moon? First Fayne thought he was a were-cat, and now this. "I don't see how that'll help you..." she began. "It has to work!" Ivan shrieked and stumbled toward her. "She left me because ofyou . It's all your fault." Erihn screamed as he lunged at her. She tried to avoid his hands, but he caught her sleeve and hauled her to her feet. "She left me because of those stupid were- cats you wrote about. She left me because she wanted a younger, more virile man." He gave her a sharp shake, causing her to narrowly miss biting her tongue again. "You're a poor moral influence on your readers. You teach them to crave depravity, and you destroyed my beautiful home and my beautiful wife. She's dead because of you!" She cried out as he shoved her away from him. She skidded to her knees, her bandaged hand going wrist deep into the stream of muddy water. She struggled to her feet, her knees screaming in protest as the mud sucked at her shoes. "You're the letter writer," she sputtered. Ivan preened. "I have written you some lovely letters, haven't I?" She choked on the bile burning the back of her throat. "You..." Her words faded as a shadow stepped out of the rain and into the mouth of the cave. Thin and angular, the figure was draped in a sodden black cloak. There was something familiar about him. The newcomer tossed his hood back. She gasped. It was the albino man from outside the shop. His skin glowed an eerie white in the lantern light. His icy eyes flicked over her, then focused on Ivan. She was

surprised when Ivan shook his head before the man said anything. "She doesn't have it." Ivan said. The ghostly man looked at her and she trembled under his icy stare. It felt as if a thousand cold fingers poked her skin at once. "W-w-what does he want?" she stammered. She knew, if she had a choice, she'd choose Ivan over this man. The albino fairly radiated pure evil. "A book. Mr. Edwards here believes you have some sort of diary from his family and he wants it back." The diary? What did he want with the diary? Erihn shook her head. "It isn't here. It's at the house." The newcomer's eyes narrowed to pinpoints of ice. She shivered as his gaze flicked to Ivan. The smaller man was shaking his head again. "How was I to know? I thought it was in the bag," he protested. "She was getting ready to leave, and she had the bag in her hand. I assumed it was in there." The albino's lip curled in a silent snarl. In the blink of an eye, his hand whipped out, snatched Ivan around the neck, lifting the smaller man off his feet. Ivan struggled against the sticklike fingers holding him immobile. Erihn screamed as those fingers plunged into Ivan's throat. Blood spurted from the gaping wound, forcing her to stumble away before the warm liquid splattered her. Her feet slid in the thickening mud, and she went down on her backside. Water splashed around her in growing torrents, forcing her to grab a rock sticking out of the wall in order to pull herself upright. Reluctantly, the mud released her with a sickening slurping sound. She turned to the face of the cave and her new tormentor. Ivan still dangled from the thin man's hand like a puppet, eyes slowly glazing as he died. She glanced at the rising level of water. Within minutes, they'd be in serious trouble if they didn't get out of this cave. Already half the floor was underwater. She looked at the albino again. "We have to get out of here," she pointed to the water. "We'll die if we stay here any longer." "I want the diary." The words were mangled as they came from Ivan's mouth. His lips weren't moving, causing the words to sound muffled. Through the gash in his neck, she saw the Albino's thin fingers clamped around Ivan's vocal cords and he plucked them like guitar strings. Erihn gagged and spun away from the horrific sight. She put her hand on the wall to retain her balance as her stomach heaved. Within seconds, she'd emptied its scant contents. "If you give me the diary, I won't hurt you." She shuddered at his unearthly voice. She rubbed a shaking hand over her lips. "You can have the diary." She shouted over the dull roar of the rising water. The torrent was rapidly turning into a river, and the water lapped at her ankles. She turned. "We have to get out of here now." A ghostly smile touched his lips and Erihn's eyes widened as she caught sight of what looked like vampire teeth. What in the devil was he? Revulsion crawled under her skin.

"Come along, girl," the Ivan puppet intoned. Erihn glanced at the rising water and the Albino. Neither one was a good choice, but, with one, she might just survive. The other would kill her for sure. It always came down to making choices, and this one she didn't want to have to make. She edged toward the mouth of the cave, sliding in the mud with almost every step she took. She halted when a shadow appeared, capturing the Albino's attention. A large cougar loomed in the mouth of the cave. The lantern light reflected off the amethyst collar it wore. "At long last, Fayne," the Ivan-puppet intoned. "We meet again." Fayne? Erihn frowned at the cat. The cat emitted a low growl; its golden eyes glinting in the light. "I believe you have something of mine." The cat shrieked, its displeasure evident. A series of low growls filled the cave. "Now, must we be so unpleasant?" Erihn yelped as the torrent of water gushed over her feet. The sodden earth beneath her ruined tennis shoes began to give way, throwing her off balance. She made a wild grab for the wall and missed, sliding into the newly formed river. The icy water wrapped around her body and hurled her toward the darkness in the yawning belly of the cave. She shrieked as the force of the water slammed her into a crevasse in the rock wall, lodging her in place. Beneath her backside, she felt an odd rumbling sensation, as if the mountain had indigestion. She shuddered and wrapped her hand around a rock protruding from the wall. She forced her gaze to where the Albino and the cat stood eyeing each other warily about twenty yards above her. The force of the water was building and the cold sapped her strength. Debris in the water, small sticks and branches, stabbed at her skin as the muddy current swirled past her. The water grew denser with debris and mud as she struggled to her feet. A large branch clubbed her in knee, almost sending her into the water again. Terror struck her as she realized she might well be buried alive in a landslide. The cat looked at her, then back at the Albino. It gave an earsplitting scream that bounced off the walls of the cave before being swallowed by the din of the rainwater river. The cat turned its back on the Albino and began inching its way toward her. A peculiar laugh filled the cave. "You've made your choice, Fayne," the Ivan-puppet thundered. "One can only hope your son doesn't live to regret it." The cat stopped and turned toward the man, clearly indecisive. Without warning, the rock shifted beneath Erihn's hands and a cry tore from her throat. She clawed at the wall, but it was no use, her numb fingers couldn't retain a grip. The muddy water ripped her from her unstable perch, surrounded her and sucked her under. She flailed wildly, trying to find something to cling

to. Her hand struck a large object. Desperate, she wrapped her hands around it, pulling her head above the water. Coughing, she blinked the mud out of her eyes and looked around wildly. How far she was from the mouth of the cave she didn't know, she couldn't see anything. The darkness was complete. "N-n-noooo," she moaned. Something slithered at the edge of her consciousness, as a wail locked in her throat.No, no, no!... Don't cry... Frantic, Erihn looked around for the owner of the voice. Soft and high, it was the voice of a child. "Who..." I'm here with you. I won't leave you alone." "Who are you?" My name is Max. "Max? Fayne's son?" Yes. Erihn shook her head; she must have struck it on something. She grunted as something poked her in the stomach, almost knocking her loose from her dubious sanctuary. Right now, she needed to get out of this muck and onto dry land. "Well, Max, if you can, think of any way to get me out of this," she muttered, trying to get her legs underneath her. Reach up. Erihn looked up. She could see nothing above her. "What am I reaching for?" A ledge. She locked her knee around her perch and flailed an arm over her head. She struck rock and, feeling around, her hand curled around a small, shelflike protrusion. "Thank you, Max," she breathed. You're welcome. "How do you do that?"

Do what? Mustering the last of her strength, Erihn stretched and flung her arm over the edge of the ledge. "Talk to me in my head like this." It's easy. She snorted as she hauled herself over the edge. "Easy for you, maybe." Her legs dangled over the edge when disaster struck. Something large in the water hit her mid-thigh, rocking her body from its unstable perch. She began to slide back into the water, a shriek on her lips. Lady! Erihn flailed desperately, knowing if she fell this time, she was done. She was almost out of strength, and there was no way she'd make it out of the water again. She sucked in a huge gulp of air as her fingers struck warm fur. Her hand curled around the collar as the ledge crumpled beneath her stomach, threatening to send her tumbling into the darkness. Her downward slide was halted as pain ripped her arm. Screams filled the cave as teeth bit through the jacket and into the flesh of her arm. Claws reached down, digging into the back of her jacket, scoring her skin. She bit her lip, braced her free hand on the ledge and struggled to pull herself onto it. She fell face-first onto the ledge, struggling for her breath. Pain wracked her body and she battled to subdue her panic. The cat released her arm and dropped next to her, his warm tongue bathing her face. Tears stung her eyes as Erihn worked her arm around his neck. "Thank you," she whispered. You okay now? She gave a faint chuckle. "Yes. Thank you, Max." You're welcome. Do me a favor? Tell Daddy I love him. "I..." The cat startled her by grabbing her by the back of the jacket and tugging her along the ledge. "Wait a minute." She turned and struggled to her knees. "Max?" Silence. The cat tugged again, this time forcing her to move. Slowly, they worked their way back along the ledge to the mouth of the cave. In spots, Erihn was forced to crawl along on her belly, the cat in front of her leading the way. He licked her cheek from time to time to encourage her to keep moving. As they rounded a bend, the faint golden lantern light was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. The ledge faded into nothing, and the cat leapt effortlessly to the scant remains of the floor. Cautiously, she slid off the ledge and down to the muddy floor before collapsing, panting for breath, shivers wracking her body. Just outside the mouth of the cave, Ivan lay in a bloody lifeless heap, his gaze sightless toward the heavens. She averted her eyes and looked instead at her arm. Jennifer's jacket was shredded and,

through the slashes in the sleeve, several long scratches and deep puncture wounds marked her skin. Her arm was already coated with blood and more oozed from the lacerations. She let her arm drop to her lap. She closed her eyes for a second to get her bearings. The cat licked her cheek, jolting her into awareness. He grabbed the mangled sleeve of her jacket and gave it a gentle tug. "Let me guess," she slurred, her throat raw. "It's time to go." Erihn struggled to her feet and staggered to the mouth of the cave. The rain still came down in sheets and there was no sign of the Albino. Unable to stop herself, she glanced at Ivan. His glazed eyes stared back at her accusing, damning. She shuddered, then allowed the cat to lead her into the rain. She had no idea where the house was or how far they were from it. All she knew was she was exhausted, freezing, and the temperature was dropping rapidly, mixing sleet with the rain. They entered the woods and steadily moved deeper and deeper into the thicket. She was lagging badly, but there wasn't anything the cat could do for her. He led the way, ever spiraling down the mountain, moving ahead to find a path, then returning to nudge her along. It was an excruciating journey. They wound their way down the rugged mountainside. Once during the climb, the sodden land had given out beneath her shoes and she'd slid quite a distance on her backside. It felt like an eternity before they reached the house. The cat led her to the basement door, and she was sobbing as they tumbled through it. She glanced at the bed, but it was too far away, and she collapsed in a heap on the carpeting. Her eyes closed and she slipped into a light doze. She was awakened when Fayne scooped her off the floor. "Erihn," he cradled her against his chest. "We have to get you warmed up." She shivered and tried to open her eyes and keep them open, but was unable to focus on him. "F-f-f...ayne?" He chuckled. "Yes, love. It's me." Her teeth chattered violently as he set her on the commode and efficiently undressed her. He picked her up and eased her into the filling tub, and she tensed as the warm water touched her chilled flesh, breath hissing through her teeth. Her arm throbbed as she sagged against the side. She forced her eyes open and found Fayne staring at her arm, his expression disturbed. "I seem to keep hurting myself." She was startled to hear her words slurred. His gaze met hers, and she didn't think she'd ever seen him look so haunted. "You didn't do this," he whispered. "I hurt you this time." She frowned. What he was saying didn't make sense. "You weren't there," she mumbled. She scrunched her face, trying to remember what exactly had happened, but she couldn't get a grip on it. It was too bizarre at best. She must've hit her head.

"Erihn," Fayne picked up her uninjured hand, jerking her attention back to him. "I swear to you, no one will ever hurt you again." "What are you talking about?" She was so exhausted; all she wanted to do was lie down for a while. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up." She closed her eyes as he washed the grime from her body, but she was too lethargic to assist him. He rinsed the muck from her hair, and she sighed under his delicious ministrations. When he was done, he picked her up, and she couldn't resist snuggling against his chest. He set her on the commode again and patted her dry from top to bottom before dressing her. He helped her into a pair of purple sweat pants and an oversized white sweater. After pulling some heavy socks on her feet, his turned his attention to her wounds. "We seem to be making a habit of this." She watched as he wound gauze around her arm. Erihn only wished she had the energy to properly show him how much she appreciated his attentions. Fayne nodded, his expression sober. "You're lucky I have lots of bandages around here for Max. He's always banging himself up." Erihn frowned. Max. There was something about his son, but she couldn't remember... She was supposed to tell Fayne something. She yawned as he taped the bandages in place. "To bed with you." He picked her up again and carried her into the bedroom. She sighed in delight as he tucked her into his massive bed. The linens were silk, and they smelled of him. She snuggled into the warmth of the comforter, and she barely felt the kiss on her temple as she drifted to sleep.

Chapter 11 She was in the basement again. Erihn stood on the steps in the earthen basement that had almost become her tomb. The basement was brightly lit, allowing her to see every inch of the dank space. Her miserable damp pallet, the slop jar and the moisture that ran down the walls combined for a macabre prison. Chapman lay in a heap at the bottom of the steps. His limbs were shackled with great chains anchoring him to the floor, his gaze piteous as he stared up at her. She felt no anger. No resentment. No fear. She felt... free.

She turned away from the pathetic man and continued her journey upward. The scarred oaken door-once nailed shut and coated with her blood from clawing at it- stood open and a beam of golden light spilled through it. Erihn took a deep breath and stepped into the light. And walked directly into a nightmare. She blinked. She stood in the archway that opened into Jennifer's living room. The first person she saw was Fayne. He stood to her right, dressed only in jeans, his hair damp and curling on his shoulders. His fists were clenched, knuckles white. Rage fairly vibrated from his tense posture. She looked across the room to see what he was looking at. Her breath caught in her throat. A tall, heavily built, dark-haired man stood before the fireplace, staring into the flames. Beside him sat the Albino in a straight-backed chair and on his lap, a child. It could only be Max. The child's expression was hollow, empty, as if his soul had left and only the shell of his body remained. The Albino smiled and nodded cordially at her. His hand, clamped on Max's shoulder, tightened, and she watched in horror as the boy jerked beneath the pressure. "I'm so glad you joined us, my dear. I was about to send our friend Fayne downstairs after you." Her heartbeat accelerated as the child's childish tones rang out. It was the voice from the cave, only a bit higher. She looked from the Albino to Fayne, whose expression was stony, eyes hooded. A muscle ticked in his jaw. She licked her lips. "What's going on?" Her voice was husky and her throat ached from her exertions in the cave. "Erihn." Fayne's voice was low. "Come to me." She glanced nervously at the Albino, who only smiled and flashed his teeth. His pronounced canines gleamed. Keeping a wary eye on him, she skimmed the steps and edged toward Fayne. Saying nothing, she reached his side, then turned to face the Albino. She calmed when Fayne's fingers wrapped around hers. Max jerked. "How touching," he said. Erihn recoiled. "How is he doing that?" "Max is telepathic. Edward is a mute as well as a freak. He speaks through Max," Fayne said. She blanched. "It doesn't appear Max enjoys it." "Would you want to dwell in the mind of a madman?" Fayne snarled, his gaze never leaving the Albino. "I did." She spoke softly, and his fingers tightened around hers. "Sticks and stones, Fayne. It's probably best you don't annoy me as I hold what you desire most," the

child piped. "Regardless of what Max enjoys, here by my side he'll stay. Unless you produce the diary, Erihn." It was back to the diary again. What was so important about the diary that people would kill for it? It was a piece of fiction... or was it? It certainly appeared vampires were real enough. Either that or this man needed the name of a good orthodontist for that overbite of his. "Where's the diary, Erihn?" Erihn glanced at Fayne's profile to see he was still staring intently at the Albino. Something was going on she didn't understand. "In my car," she rasped. "Would you please be so kind as to retrieve it?" Max's voice was flat. She glanced at Fayne and he nodded imperceptibly. She released his hand and gave the Albino a wide berth as she scampered up the steps. She ran down the hall to the front door. Her heart thudding, she stuffed her feet into a pair of hiking boots. What should she do? She grabbed a jacket from the peg and escaped into the night. Sleet stung her skin as she ran to her car and threw open the door. She needed a gun. Did Mac have any guns? She fumbled around, looking for her bag. Would she even know how to load one if she did have one? No. "Damn," she hissed, dragging her purse out from behind the driver's seat. Could Fayne take him? The Albino didn't look all that strong, but the dark- haired man did. Who was he and where did he enter into the mix? Maybe Fayne could hold him down and she could bash the other one on the head. Her breath whistled through her clenched teeth as her fingers found the old box. She pulled it out of the bag and stuffed it under her coat. The sleet was tapering off as she ran back to the house, her feet sliding on the ice-covered ground. The candles burning all over the downstairs acted as a beacon through the open door. Erihn skidded on the tiles as she slammed it closed. She shed the coat and boots and tiptoed into the kitchen. Looking around, she spied the butcher's block filled with knives. She reached for one. "Don't bother," Max's voice piped. "Knives will have no effect on me." Erihn glanced and saw that they could see her through the archway. She scowled, and Fayne gave her a small smile. Squaring her shoulders, she marched into the living room. "Is that the book?" Edward asked through Max. "Yes." "Give it to Miles, here." The Albino indicated the dark-haired man.

She moved toward the man as he turned from the fireplace to accept the box, his dark eyes not meeting hers. A tingle rippled up her arm as he grasped the opposite end of the case. Erihn released her hold, then jerked her hand away to break the connection. A crash of thunder made her jump. Brilliant lightning drew her attention and something light-colored on the deck caught her eye. In a second flash of lightning, she saw the tiny blonde woman, motionless, her head severed from her body. "Lovely, wasn't she?" Max said. Erihn gulped. "Why did you kill her?" She looked at the box, now secure in Miles' hands, and wondered if she'd just given away the key to keeping them all alive. "She was of no use to me." "And what about us?" she asked, boldly looking the Albino in the eye. "Exactly what use are we?" The Albino smiled, his fangs flashing. "Well, the child has his uses, of course. And you, my dear, are lovely, scar and all. I do have a great appreciation for beauty, especially for that which is not as it seems." Erihn frowned. What in the devil was he? From outward appearances, he was a textbook vampire, complete with fangs, pasty skin and black cloak. Was he what he appeared to be? "Fayne is another matter altogether," Max said. "Why is that?" She narrowed her eyes. "He is of no use whatsoever. In reality, he's a hindrance." "Why?" The Albino's expression was curious. "You don't know, do you?" "She doesn't know anything," Fayne growled. Edward threw back his head as if to laugh, only the sound came from the child's mouth instead. Chills ran down her back as the vampire shook his head. "You're kidding me! She wrote about your race and doesn't know what a monster you are?" Erihn glanced nervously at Fayne, then back to the Albino. "No," said Fayne. "Your lover's made of fool of you, my dear. How does it feel to have been seduced by a were-cat? The so-called mythical creature of your novel?" That's it, they were all mad. How did he know what had happened between them? She shook her head, a feeling of panic blossoming in her chest. "Were-cat's donot exist," she stated. "I don't know how many times I have to say this, but they're a figment of someone's imagination." The Albino nodded in Fayne's direction. "Fayne, would you please show the lady we're not all crazed?"

Fayne growled, a feral sound that made the hair stand up on the back of her neck. His eyes glowed with a flickering golden light. Her breath caught. "No," he snapped. Edward shifted his hand and clenched it around the boy's neck. Max shrieked as the fingers tightened. "I could break him in half so easily," Max crooned. A peculiar power began to fill the room, soft as a breeze chilling her flesh; the momentary sensation of icy needles prickling her skin left her gasping. The urge to scream began to build. Erihn clenched a hand over her heart as an amazing amber fire flickered before her eyes. Was she going to faint? "Stop," Fayne snarled. Erihn trembled as the strange energy faded, leaving her feeling edgy, restless. Fayne reached for her, and she took a step toward him. His fingertips brushed hers. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He backed away. Closing his eyes, he stood still and silent. Then, right before her eyes, he evaporated. His form faded, became transparent as the shadow of a cat began to take shape. One moment he was there, the next he was gone, and a cat stood in his place. It was the cougar. Erihn stared into the golden eyes, transfixed. It was the animal Fayne claimed was his, the very same animal that had saved her life in the cave. He really was a were-cat. "What do you think, my dear?" Erihn swung her gaze from the cat to the Albino. She said the first thing that came to mind. "Astounding." The Albino smiled. "Indeed, it is. Were-cats are very rare, and your lover would fetch quite a price on the underground market. Their legendary powers are in demand, especially since they're almost impossible to catch and even harder to keep. You see, they don't do well in captivity. They're rarely worth the trouble as they cannot be tamed." The Albino turned and looked at Miles. After a moment of silence, Miles nodded and left the room, the box containing the diary tucked under his arm. Erihn heard the front door open, then close. "What are you?" she blurted. He smiled. "You haven't figured that out yet? And I thought you were a bright girl. Why, I'm a vampire, my dear." Erihn recoiled in horror and he laughed. "You're joking," she hissed. Her knees wobbled, and she grabbed the back of a chair for support.

"Hardly. You didn't believe Fayne either? That's too bad." He shook his head. "Trust issuch a precious commodity." "What happens now?" "Miles is taking the book to safety, and I'll deal with your lover." Erihn's eyes narrowed. "Deal with him how?" "Kill him, of course." Erihn fought the urge to snarl. Her hands trembled with the effort it cost to contain her rage. She needed to think clearly and get Max away from him. "And Max. Will you leave him here with me?" "My word, no. You are a little Pollyanna, aren't you? The child goes with me and you'll remain to bury the dead." He paused. "Unless I decide to make you one of them. The dead, that is. Or maybe the undead? Now there's a thought. You'd make a lovely vampire, a timeless gift for a timeless beauty." Erihn glanced at Fayne only to see that his eyes were locked on something outside the window, something cloaked in the darkness. "Are you so sure you can kill him?" Mentally, she scrambled for a way out of this mess, coming up with nothing that would help them. "My darling, a were-cat cannot compete with a vampire." Fayne turned and looked at her. She saw love shining in the golden depths of his eyes. Love and confidence. Could he take a vampire? She jumped as she felt his black-tipped tail curl around her ankle in an intimate stroke. "You might want to clue him in on that, as I don't think he agrees with you," Erihn said with bravado. "It won't be the first time Fayne has been wrong," the vampire smirked. "Give me the child." "I'll have both the book and the child, regardless." "That remains to be seen," she shot back. "If you two are going to fight, then the child's in peril, is he not?" The albino watched her, his eyes measuring her worthiness. She refused to flinch under his regard. It was imperative she get her hands on Max and remove him from danger. Maybe she could keep him safe by hiding him in the crawl space under the steps. Could she hide the child from a vampire? If not, all was lost. The vampire nodded then released the child. Max staggered to his feet and moved woodenly, wavering on his thin legs. Erihn reached out and grabbed him, pulling him into her arms. He leaned against her, tremors wracking his body. The vampire rose to his feet, his movements graceful, ageless. He indicated the French doors and Fayne-cat bobbed his dark head. The vampire opened the doors, pausing to give Erihn an icy smile

before stepping into darkness. Bliss' body lay just outside the door, and a few inches from her outstretched arm was a sword. Fayne stepped daintily over her, pausing to brush his nose across her damp hair before moving onto the deck. Erihn's eyes burned as she looked at the child she held in her arms. His skin was translucent, and he was so still. Purple shadows marred the delicate skin beneath his eyes, and she felt a surge of anger spring to life. She closed her eyes and clutched Max to her chest. A brilliant amber fire flowed behind her eyelids. Erihn trembled as she faded into the light and gave herself to the rage.

Renault was here. Fayne could feel his old friend in the darkness, watching and waiting. He turned to face Edward. The rain had stopped, leaving a thin layer of ice that cracked beneath his paws. The night was hushed, the air icy cold. It would snow before morning. Edward mockingly bowed in his direction as Fayne bared his teeth in a snarl. The vampire attacked. Fayne darted to the side as the creature flew at him. Rage would lose this battle and he had no intention of losing his cool. The vampire missed by scant inches, and he struck out at Edward's leg, his claws leaving deep scores through the black pants and cold skin. The vampire spun, his eyes glowing red as he hissed. He leapt again and, this time, Fayne met him head on. Lunging, he leapt into the air. His massive paws struck Edward full in the chest, stopping him in his tracks. They went down in a tangle, Edward's teeth grazing Fayne's neck as Fayne snapped at his throat. Fayne's teeth hit the mark, and the scent of old blood filled his nostrils as he tore through Edward's skin. The vampire screamed, a silent unearthly scream, as he flung Fayne away from him. Edward staggered, his foot striking the abandoned sword with a discordant clang. Fayne's eyes narrowed as the vampire scooped up the weapon, triumph flashing in his eyes. So much for being a gentleman and fighting on an even playing field. Edward was once again showing his true colors. No surprise there. Fayne was careful to keep his eyes on the vampire as they circled, waiting for a break. He was determined to make Edward strike first. Patience would win this game and he had that in spades. Edward lunged and Fayne feinted to the left, then to the right, but not quite fast enough. The sword left a blazing trail of pain down his shoulder. Fayne danced away, snarling as he scrambled for purchase on the icy deck. A thud sounded to his right. A massive panther landed on the deck, the structure shuddering beneath its weight. Golden eyes locked on Edward as the vampire smiled and inclined his head. Blood still ran down his neck from the wound Fayne had given him. Unfortunately, it wasn't a mortal wound. Fayne could have sworn the panther returned the smile. The big cat barely glanced at Fayne; they both knew what they needed to do. Many times, he and Renault had been in similar situations. They were well-versed in hand-to-paw combat. A misty rain began to fall as Fayne darted to the vampire's left while Renault went to the right. Staying on

opposite sides of the vampire, they began to circle, waiting for an opportunity. Edward's gaze darted from one cat to the other, a look of horror dawning on his face. Thanks to his injury, Fayne knew Edward would come for him first. He continued his pace, not allowing himself to give in to the tension. When the vampire lunged, Fayne leapt onto the hot tub cover, leaving Edward jabbing the sword into the air where he'd been seconds before. The sword hit the wood with a tremendous thud. The mistake had been made. Edward wrenched the sword free, leaving a terrific gash. With a snarl, Renault leapt, hitting the vampire behind the legs while Fayne leaped into the fray. Already overbalanced, Edward flailed wildly, the sword flying from his hand as he went down onto his back. Fayne landed square on his chest. Before the vampire could even think, he dropped full length on the vampire and their eyes locked. Fayne screamed the hair-raising cry of a cougar. It echoed off the walls of house and rolled into the valley below. He dropped his head and, with a single motion, tore the vampire's throat out. The gush of primitive blood filled his mouth, and he staggered off the vampire. Gagging, Fayne spat out the chunk of cold flesh before closing his eyes. He concentrated on the violet fire and let it surround him. The misty rain felt good on his bare skin, even if it was ice cold. Fayne tilted his head back, allowing the mist to wash the blood away. His shoulder ached from his wound and his throat throbbed from the vampire bite. He would have to disinfect them both. He hoped Jennifer had a bottle of Vampire-Be-Gone sitting around somewhere. Edward's limbs twitched and an eerie whistling came from the hole in his throat as he struggled to breathe through his severed windpipe. Fayne rose to his feet. Even with such a massive throat wound, it was possible for a vampire to survive. They were hardy buggers, just like cockroaches. He picked up the sword and stalked to the vampire. Edward's eyes were glazing, but there was life still lurking in him. If left alone long enough, he could heal himself. Fayne pressed the point of the sword over Edward's heart and snarled, "I'll see you in hell." With a sickening crunch, Edward's body jerked as Fayne caved in his chest and impaled his heart with the sword, pinning him to the deck. He took a deep breath of the frosty air. For now, this was enough. Later, he'd remove the heart and ensure Edward would walk the earth no more. Renault padded over and sat down next to him with a thump. Fayne grinned down at the cat. "Thank you, my friend." The panther blinked. A soft breeze danced over his skin, and he raised his head as he scented the wind. Shadows danced on the edge of his vision before slowly coalescing into solid forms levitating just off the deck rails. One by one, dark figures emerged from the shadows and swooped to land silently on the deck. Fayne backed away as he recognized the stooped, midgetlike figures. They were the minions of the witch known as Mortianna, Bliss' mother. Their floor- length robes made a dry slithering sound over the deck as they gathered around Bliss in a tight circle. White, sticklike hands emerged from the full sleeves as they gathered their fallen one. The tallest figure produced a silvery cloth as a faint, unearthly wail sounded somewhere in the darkness.

Fayne's hair stood on end as he acknowledged the sound of loss from another living being. It could only be Mortianna herself. Gently, the minions wrapped Bliss in the cloth, their movements reverent, their heads bowed as they worked. The cloth glowed bright where it came in contact with her body. Tenderly, they raised her upon their shoulders to bear her into the night. The minions melded with the darkness, carrying Bliss, their master's only child, to her home. They moved over the land until only the faintest speck of light from her shroud was left. Fayne blinked, then they were gone. Bliss was gone forever. Tears stung his eyes as he turned and tottered into the living room, coming to a halt as a savage snarl greeted him. His son lay in the archway, looking as if he were sleeping. Standing over him stood the most beautiful cougar he'd ever seen. Her coat was a rich reddish brown and her eyes were filled with amber fire. He gulped for air as the breath left his lungs. "Erihn?" The cat shrieked and he could have sworn a look of panic crossed its face. "Erihn, do you know how to change back?" The cat shook its head violently. Fayne laughed and the cat scowled at him. He crossed the room, then lowered himself cautiously on the steps and scooped his son into his lap. Erihn-cat immediately began licking his ear and checking his injuries, soft little snarls sounding from her throat. Fayne laughed again. "Quit, that tickles." He looked down at Max, deeply asleep, exhausted from his ordeal. All that mattered was he was safe and back in his father's arms. "Erihn, listen to me." Fayne caught sight of Renault, who'd wandered into the living room, then sat down to watch the show. "I'll tell you how to change back." Erihn whined and Renault made a sound as if he were laughing. Erihn glared at the massive panther and bared her teeth with a snarl. Fayne grabbed her jaw and pulled her face back to him. "None of that, my kitten. Renault could eat you for dinner, though he won't get the chance." Renault snorted as if he disagreed. Fayne ignored him. "Erihn, close your eyes." He grinned as she obediently closed them. "See the flame in your mind's eye? Now step into it and let it surround you." For a few seconds, nothing happened, and then beneath his hands, she began to change. Within seconds, he held her human chin in his hand. "Fayne..." Her voice trembled. "I was so scared."

He wrapped an arm around her and tugged her into his side. "It's okay now, Erihn." She gulped. "I didn't think I could get back, and you'd have to buy me a big litter box and a giant mouse to play with and..." Fayne heard a sound suspiciously like laughter. He looked over to see Renault snorting. If he'd been in human form, he'd have been rolling on the floor. Erihn scowled at the panther. "It's not funny!" she snapped. Renault continued to laugh and Erihn lunged to her feet. "Damn you!" She took off after the cat. Renault hopped to his feet and, with a strangled growl, ran for the dining room. His tail grazed a priceless Chinese vase. It tilted before it hit the floor and shattered. Fayne shook his head and hugged his son closer. Max made an inarticulate sound and snuggled deeper into his shoulder. He sighed, leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Edward was gone and they were all safe. For the most part. His heart clenched with the thought of Bliss. His friend died trying to save the life of his child. He hugged Max tighter, then winced as something hit the floor and shattered in the kitchen. The bill was growing and Jennifer wouldn't be happy to find her house ravaged. Renault came flying around the corner, panic on his face. Fayne laughed to see one of the most dangerous were-cats of them all in full retreat. Renault's nails scraped over the tiles as he leapt over both he and Max, landing in the living room with a thud. He darted behind a chair, then peered over the arm, waiting for Erihn to arrive. She didn't appear. "Fayne?" Erihn's voice sounded from the kitchen. "Yes, my love." "I'm naked." Fayne laughed. "Yes, my love, you're naked." "Can you get me some clothes?" "No." He said contentedly "F-f-fayne!" She shrieked. "Nope, not moving. I'm injured, remember?" Fayne looked at the sleeping child in his arms. His life was complete. He had his son in his arms, his best friend by his side-make that cowering in the living room-and a naked woman in the kitchen. What else could he possibly want?

Chapter 12 What a totally unbelievable day. Erihn wrapped her arms around her waist as she stared out the bedroom window. The full moon painted the sleeping valley in an unearthly silvery glow. Her newly sharpened preternatural senses picked up motion and life previously unseen as nocturnal creatures moved about in the darkness. A heightened awareness of her altered world and her own body ran under her skin like an electrical charge. It was both exhilarating and terrifying. She glanced over her shoulder at Fayne who lay asleep in the bed, his breathing deep and even. In the dim room, she could pick out every beloved feature of his face. She turned back to the darkened window. Even now, standing in the tainted sanctuary of Jennifer's house, she couldn't believe the events of the past twenty- four hours. Reinforcements had arrived shortly after midnight. Val, Mac, Shai, Jennifer and a tall foreboding man by the name of Alexandre had swooped down on the house and made order from chaos. The women had immediately taken Fayne for several hours to cleanse his wounds. Even now she could still hear his strangled screams as they'd doused him in something Mac had laughingly called Vampire- Be-Gone. According to Val, it was used to cleanse vampire bites and an incredibly painful experience. The men had taken Edward's body to the meadow at the top of the mountain. After erecting a hasty wooden pyre, they'd placed his body on top and everyone had gathered for an informal hearing of sorts. Erihn had stood off to one side with Max in her arms, feeling like Alice when the little girl had fallen down the rabbit hole. She closed her eyes and the images flickered in her mind like a macabre slide show. The sword had still protruded from Edward's chest as he lay on the roughly constructed pyre, the evening moon glinting off the polished steel. Tiki-style torches had been lit to illuminate the gruesome spectacle about to take place. The men had taken up positions around the corpse, one on each side and at the foot and head. Jennifer and Shai had stood apart from her, watching her warily, yet daring to come no closer. Erihn scowled at the thought of her friends. Her best friend Shai was one ofthem ? A vampire? What about Jennifer? If Shai was one, what did that make her? Erihn swallowed the taste of betrayal lying thick in her mouth. The image of Alexandre stepping forward, a small leather book in his hands, replaced the picture of Jennifer and Shai huddled together. His words still rang in her ears. "The vampire known as Edward is no more. Once a member of the Council of Elders, he has broken the law of nine by committing treason against the Council. For the act of treachery, I hereby sentence Edward to one hundred years in the pit. For the act of murdering the vampire known as Bliss, a crime outlawed centuries ago, there is only one possible restitution--death."

Images of Mac leaping onto the pyre, his feet planted on either side of the vampire, entered her mind. He'd removed the sword with a nauseating sucking sound. Erihn cringed as she replayed the way the body had jerked as Mac had freed the sword before offering it to Alexandre. Val had then retrieved one of the torches and dropped it into the bed of kindling. Treated with gasoline, the debris had gone up with awhoosh . Through the leaping flames, Erihn had seen Alexandre raise the sword over his head, the flickering light playing on the deadly blade as Max had tensed in her arms. Raising one hand, she'd pressed his face into her neck, his breath warm against her skin. With one mighty blow, the vampire known as Edward was no more. Erihn blinked, the images fading as the familiar bedroom reasserted itself. Erihn shifted, the sensation of her jeans sliding over her skin entrancing her. She scratched her nails on the cotton, the grating sound playing in her ears as shivers of awareness crept up her spine. Fascinating. Her new senses intrigued her. Everything was clearer, her sense of smell much sharper. The world around her was bright and alive as it had never been before. She detected the minutest sounds and could hear when someone approached, as someone was now trying. Erihn concentrated on the approaching footsteps, muffled by the carpet. She closed her eyes and inhaled. The scent of wood smoke and something not easily defined reached her nose. Val. She felt him pause in the doorway, his gaze slipping over her as awareness slithered across her skin. She opened her eyes, her gaze unerringly meeting his. Val was a vampire. Even now, she found it hard to believe vampires existed, let alone that she'd known one for the past ten years. It was almost beyond her comprehension. Regardless of whether or not she believed , the reality was looking at her straight in the face. Since becoming a were-cat, she'd learned vampires had an interesting energy that emanated from their bodies. Sort of cool and understated like the hum of a low voltage wire. Constant, waiting to leap into action at a moment's notice. Simply fascinating. She noted the caution in his gaze. He smiled. "You have everyone half-frightened." "Only half?" She asked, marveling at her own cool tone. "Well, we don't frighten easily," he amended. "Maybe you should." She turned away from his compelling eyes and looked out the window once again. She tensed when she heard his heavy tread on the carpeting as he approached her.

"Did Miles get away with the diary?" She asked, desperate to keep him from bringing up anything painful. She was so on edge she didn't know if she'd burst into tears or flame at this point. "Unfortunately, he did." "I'm sorry he stole your property. You were nice enough to let me borrow it, and then..." "We have bigger problems than the loss of the book. We'll get it back sooner or later. There was a blurb on the news about Daniels' body being found. It appears he did kill his wife before coming after you." Erihn bit her lip, her eyes closing at the thought of the woman dying so needlessly She wasn't sure she could ever write again after this. "Both Jennifer and Shai are upset they couldn't tell you sooner." His voice was soft. "I don't know why they couldn't, it isn't as if they're mute. They made the decision to not tell me, it's as simple as that." She couldn't mask the bitterness in her voice. He laid his hands on her shoulders. The cool strength of his touch steadied her even as she acknowledged that, in his own way, he'd also betrayed her. She fought the desire to lean against his chest and accept his embrace. "What would you have said to them?" She ignored the question. "Why didn't you tell me?" "It isn't something that just comes up in conversation, Erihn." Val said. "Why didn'tthey tell me?" Her anger blossomed as she pulled away and turned to face him. "They were supposed to be my friends, yet they hid this from me." "Erihn," Val shook his head. "We aren't talking about telling someone about an engagement or a broken leg. You're talking about an entire world most mortals can't comprehend. What would you have said if Shai told you she was a vampire? What would you have said if Shai told you her lover was a vampire?" Tears stung her eyes as she gave in to her anger. "That isn't the point," she snapped. "All of you," she waved her hand about as if to indicate the occupants of the house, "treated me as if I were a child. It wasn't your decision to make. This is my life we're talking about. None of you had the right to do this to me." He nodded. "You're right. We had no right to deceive you, but you have to put yourself in our shoes for a minute. This isn't something be easily explained. Things are happening that you know nothing about, and we all felt it was better to keep everyone in the dark. We were trying to keep you safe." "We see how well that worked," Erihn shot back. Val sighed. "I can see you aren't in the mood to listen. However, after you think about it and decide you might want to forgive us, we'll be waiting for you. We all love you very much and we're all sorry we lied to you." She turned away as her tears spilled over. As far as she was concerned, there was no excuse for lying.

None. They were her best friends in the world, now they were just the latest additions in a long line of people who'd betrayed her. She clenched her jaw and stared blindly into the darkness. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to her temple. She refused to allow herself to acknowledge him. As he walked away, she heard the sound of Max's childish voice in the downstairs hallway. Jennifer's response sounded along with his, their laughter mingling as it trod upon her raw nerves.

Fayne was awakened by the sound of Erihn's voice as she argued with Val. Now he watched her as she stared into the night. Leaning against the window frame, loneliness cloaked her body like a blanket as tears streamed down her cheeks. His heart ached at the sight of her pain. He could only hope he didn't cause her any more pain and she didn't hate him for turning her into a were-cat. Would she walk away from him? There was no way she couldn't feel betrayed by both Jennifer and Shai. Erihn held both of them very close to her heart and to learn they'd deliberately kept her in the dark would be viewed as the ultimate betrayal of her friendship. He closed his eyes, quietly taking stock of his injuries. His neck ached. Vampire bites were difficult to heal, even for a were-cat blessed with the ability to heal quickly from most wounds. He raised a hand and rubbed the bandage lightly, resisting the urge to claw at the marks beneath it. His shoulder ached from the sword wound, but within twenty-four hours, that would heal. He heard Max's voice as he laughed with Jennifer downstairs and he smiled. Luckily, Max had suffered no ill affects from his ordeal. At least none that they'd seen so far. "You should leave that alone." Fayne's eyes flew open at the soft words, his hand dropping from the bandage. Erihn stared at him, her gaze piercing him through the gloom of the room. Exhaustion battled with wariness in her damp gaze. He cleared his throat. "How do you feel?" "Shouldn't I be asking you that question?" Her tone was wry. "I feel like I've been bitten by a were-cat." He flinched. "I can't begin to tell you how..." "If you're going to tell me you're sorry, don't." Her voice was sad and not a little bit unsure. "You can't begin to understand how I feel." "You're right." "Just answer one question. Is there any way to reverse this? Can I become human again?" "You're still human." "I don't know many humans who get furry once a month." Her tone turned sharp, angry. "True. But there are..." "Don't you dare!" she snapped.

Fayne blinked as Erihn suddenly evaporated into her cat form. Her jeans and simple cotton shirt looked ludicrous on her feline shape. He couldn't prevent himself from smiling as she kicked the jeans off with a snarl. "You need to learn to control your abilities, or you'll embarrass yourself in public." Erihn-cat glared at him. He sighed. "I wish there were some magical explanation I could give you. I wish I could go back and start all over again, but I can't." He rolled out of bed, wincing as his wounds screamed in protest. "No one can make time reverse. The bottom line is that we have to move on from here." He stretched warily, alert for new pains in his body. "I know you're angry and you have every right to be. You could have been killed yesterday, not only by Ivan, but by Edward. It wasn't fair to keep you in the dark, but what else could we have done?" He ran a hand through his hair, wincing as he pulled his shoulder again. He let his hand drop. "I tried to tell you what I was, but you didn't believe me. What was I supposed to do?" Erihn made a grumbling sound as if that wasn't her concern. She hooked one claw through her shirt and tore it down the front. "I knew Edward was coming and I knew you were in danger, but I just couldn't let you go. I couldn't send you away. I found myself wanting just a few more minutes, just a few more hours." He shook his head. "That need could have cost you your life." Erihn sat, her eyes narrowed as she contemplated that bit of information. "I think I fell in love with you the moment I saw you." Fayne lowered himself into a chair near her. "I saw you walk across the room at The Brew House and I knew that was it. I just didn't know then it would be permanent." Erihn made an odd sniffing sound and he could almost swear she was crying. "All my life I've been alone and I've liked it that way. I never had the desire to stay with a woman, to mate with her. Never have I wanted to take care of a woman, to hold her in my arms and remain faithful to her." He paused, making sure he had her full attention. "Until now." Erihn glanced away, but not before he saw her beautiful amber eyes shimmer with tears. She sniffed again and padded toward the bathroom, disappearing through the door. He sighed. "How long will you stay mad at me?" Silence. "A week?" More silence. "A month?"

Nada. "I love you, Erihn. I want to marry you." There was a thud as if something had hit the floor. "Say something. I know you heard me." "I love you. I don't know why, but I do." Her voice drifted through the door, soft and unsure. His heart swelled. She loved him. "But I don't want to marry you." Fayne sat there, stunned. She didn't want to marry him? How could she not want to marry him? He scowled. "Why don't you want to marry me?" he demanded. "Why would I?" She shot back. "You lied to me. You neglected to tell me about your son. You were deliberately secretive, and you could have gotten me killed. Hmm...why should I want to marry you again?" "You love my son," he snapped. Erihn's voice softened. "Yes, I do, but I won't marry to acquire a child." "You love me," he accused. She laughed. "Yeah, and look where that got me. I'll turn furry every month for the rest of my life, however long that might be. I'll have to battle fleas, and I can't have any more catnip tea. I have to worry about hairballs, and did I mention that I'm allergic to cats? Not to mention the fact you accused me of using you for research." Erihn sauntered into the doorway; naked as the day she was born. His words caught in his throat. Her hair, with its new cut, curled gently about her face, drawing attention away from her scars and to her eyes, filled with amber fire. Fayne swallowed audibly. "I know, I was wrong to do that. I should've known you wouldn't use anyone like that." "You believe me?" He caught the tinge of relief in her tone. He nodded. "Good. Shame on you, then." Erihn smiled. "Now, on to the next matter. Now that I'm a were-cat, I find I have certain desires I might want to explore." Fayne froze. He knew exactly what desires she was talking about. Female were-cats were endowed with the same abilities as the male of the species, and the desire to mate was only one of them. Another trait was the females, when prowling, were irresistible to human males. She could have any man she

wanted. He growled. Over his dead body. "You'll marry me," he ground out. "I think not," she shot back. He leapt to his feet. "You'll not marry any other man." Her brow arched. "Who said anything about getting married? I just want really good sex and lots of it." Rage built into a dull roar in his head as he yelled, "You willnot have sex with anyone other than me, do you understand?" On the edge of his awareness, he heard the scrabbling of claws on carpeting as Renault ran up the steps to see what was going on. Through the open doorway, he saw his massive friend drop to his haunches on the landing, his expression changing from alarm to amusement. Fayne glanced from his friend to Erihn, relieved to see neither could see the other from their positions. He and Renault had shared a great deal in their lives, but the sight of Erihn naked wasn't one he wanted to share ever again. The house was silent, waiting. Somewhere, his friends were down below waiting to hear what happened next. Damn them and their infernal curiosity. "Who in the world do you think you are?" Erihn was yelling. "I'm my own woman and I'll make my own decisions." "You'll marry me." He winced as his wounds gave a twinge and he grabbed the bedpost. "No, I won't. I have no desire to marry. Possibly, if you ask me nicely, I just might choose to remain with you for a while as your lover." Fayne wearily sank to the edge of the bed. His dousing in Vampire-Be-Gone had sapped his strength and arguing with her was like yelling at a wall. Pointless. His life was empty without her, and he couldn't bear the thought of walking away. "I love you," he sighed. "Losing you isn't an option." He rubbed the bandage again. His wounds ached abominably. "How badly does it hurt?" He caught the note of concern in her voice. He struck a pained expression as he rubbed, hoping for some sympathy. "A lot, it hurts a lot," he muttered. "Hmm. It's too bad you're injured. I've made notes on the majority of the information the diary contained. While it read like stereo instructions, I do know that now that I'm a were-cat, I've been endowed with certain..." She paused. "Abilities." He swallowed as a rush of lust hit his groin and his cock stirred in response. He knew exactly what abilities she'd acquired, and the thought of being the recipient of some of them was enough to make him groan. She continued. "Since you're hurt, that might pose a problem." She turned and presented him with a pert

backside as she sauntered into the bathroom. "I guess I'll have to explore on my own. Maybe you should take a nap or something." Within moments, he heard the sound of the tap running and the faint scent of rose geranium oil wafted out the bathroom door. Fayne heard something suspiciously like heavy breathing. He turned to find Renault had moved into the bedroom and now was staring at the bathroom doorway, his eyes gleaming with a familiar wicked sheen he recognized all too well. "Oh, no, you don't. She's mine. Go get your own." Renault made a sniffing noise. "I know, you're a lone wolf." He glanced at the empty doorway as the sound of Max's laughter drifted up the stairs. He turned toward Renault. "How do you feel about babysitting for the next few weeks?"

Let the games begin...

One With The Hunger Book I: The Shadow Dwellers

by

J.C. Wilder

Copyright © 1998 Lisa Hamilton Previously published by Dreams Unlimited.

Cover Art by Emily Black Cover Art copyright © 2001

Published in Canada by LTDBooks, 200 North Service Road West, Unit 1, Suite 301, Oakville, ON L6M 2Y1 [www.ltdbooks.com] All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher is an infringement of the copyright law. National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data Wilder, J. C., 1965One with the hunger [computer file] ISBN 1-55316-070-3 I. Title. PS3623.I45O54 2001 813'.6 C2001-902072-4

Dedication For those who dare to dream...

Chapter 1 "I think you should take a lover." Shai paused, her baked potato-filled fork poised in mid-air. She stared aghast across the table at her friend. "Excuse me?" "Ohhh, yes," breathed Melanie, "tall, dark and handsome." She twirled a lock of icy blonde hair around her forefinger and fell back against her chair, a smile curving her full mouth. "And rich, of course." "I think it's a wonderful idea, if I do say so myself." Vivian, the instigator of the conversation, leaned forward, her elbows on the pristine white tablecloth. The stub of a Spanish cigarillo burned between her fingers as she pointed at Shai. "Just what you need to get out of your rut." The rich smoke from the imported cigarette drifted lazily around her head then vanished, vanquished by the efficient air conditioning in the restaurant. "I wasn't aware I was in a rut," Shai said pointedly. Vivian rolled her beautiful blue eyes and looked at her as if she were, at the very least, a dimwitted child. "Well, of course you don't see it, dear, that's what your friends are for... to point out these things." "Even if I don't ask you to," Shai muttered. Erihn ignored her. "Why do you think we bought that outfit for your birthday?" She waved her speared

shrimp in Shai's direction. "Vivian said we had to prime the pump, so to speak." Shai glanced at the new clothes she wore. Granted, the clothing that had appeared in a beautifully-wrapped package on her doorstep earlier in the afternoon weren't her normal cup of tea. The short, black velvet skirt, long-sleeved black silk blouse and brilliant emerald green silk jacket weren't bad. In fact, they looked lovely on her, she admitted shyly. Before tonight she would never have dreamed of wearing such a revealing ensemble. She had to fight the urge to tug down the skimpy skirt every time she moved. She'd never worn anything in public that only covered her to mid-thigh; it simply wasn't proper. But it wasn't the clothing that worried her; it was the lingerie that had accompanied the gift. "I'll bet she isn't wearing them," Jennifer, a dark-haired, sloe-eyed woman, speculated. "Think so?" Vivian stubbed out her cigarette. "Enlighten us, little Shai. Are you wearing the naughty underwear Jen and I picked out?" "That's rather personal." Shai stalled, setting down her fork with a clang before reaching for her wineglass. The deep burgundy resembled blood inside the Irish crystal. In the dim lighting of the restaurant, the liquid glowed and shimmered as if lit from within. She took a hesitant sip, her mind scrambling for an excuse for not wearing the deliciously sexy lingerie. Too small, maybe? No, Jennifer would see right through that one. Damn! She wished they'd not gone shopping together last week. She set her glass down once more. Maybe she could say a panty raid had occurred while she was in the shower. Or armed guerillas had entered her apartment and stolen them at Uzi- point. "Looks like you're right. She isn't wearing them." Melanie untangled her hair from her finger and returned her attention to her plate. "I'm not sure why I put up with you guys," Shai grumbled. She picked up her fork and stuffed the now-cold bite of potato in her mouth, chewing as she glared at her four friends. "Because we're family in every way that counts," Erihn answered matter-of- factly. "And you love us." Jennifer grinned like a well-fed Cheshire cat. "That still doesn't answer the question. Are you wearing the naughty bits Viv and I bought for you?" Shai felt the blush heating her cheeks. While she'd been delighted with the clothing her friends had picked out, the lingerie was intimidating for someone who'd religiously worn plain white cotton all her life. The black lace demi-bra and matching thong had lain on the bed until the very last minute. As she was getting ready for the evening, she'd kept glancing at the lingerie, torn between her desire to don it and her wish that it would vanish into thin air. In the end, she'd relented. Sitting in the trendy New York restaurant wearing an outfit and lingerie that would have cost her a week's pay, Shai felt truly free for the first time in her life. She shifted in her seat, her bottom bare against the black silk half-slip. The whisper of black-seamed thigh highs felt foreign and sexy against her skin. "Yes, I am." She slapped her fork down on the table with a thump. "And I like it."

"Bravo, darling." Viv raised her glass in a mock salute. "I suspected as much." Jennifer shrugged out of her black velvet bolero-style jacket to reveal gleaming porcelain skin and a tiny black leather bustier. "Maybe I should take another lover," she commented to no one in particular. "Wore out Marcel already?" Melanie asked. She picked up her glass of wine and finished it off. "That's the problem with men today." Vivian reached for a new cigarette from Melanie's pack. "No stamina." Erihn swallowed a gasp as she ducked her head. Her face half-hidden by a wing of rich brown hair, she busied herself with digging a chunk of crabmeat out of a claw. "More ginseng? Powdered deer antler?" "It would be hard for anyone to keep up with you, Viv dear. How many days a week do you go to the gym?" Melanie asked. "Three." With a flick of a gold lighter, she lit a fresh cigarette. "I can crush a tin can between these thighs." "Isthat why you go through so many men? You crush them to death?" Melanie teased. Shai glanced at Vivian. "And this is a good thing...how?" "Maybe Viv is into recycling," chortled Erihn. Vivian eyed Erihn's Rubenesque figure. "It wouldn't hurt you to go once in a while." "Oh no, not me." Erihn caught the waitress's attention and waved her hand at the empty wine bottles to show that they needed another one. "What would I do with a man?" A tender look entered Vivian's eyes. She reached over and brushed Erihn's hair away from her face. Her nimble fingers lightly traced the scar that marred the young woman's cheek. A madman in Central Park had ended Erihn's budding modeling career seven years ago. In broad daylight, he'd grabbed her as she'd left a photo shoot. He'd kidnapped and terrorized her for three long, agonizing days before the police had caught up with him. She'd escaped with her life and a horrendous scar that would forever mar her face. But it wasn't the exterior scars that concerned her friends, it was the ones hidden deep inside they worried about. To this day, Erihn refused to speak of the incident that had forever changed her life. "I think you're perfect the way you are," Vivian murmured. Tears glittered in Erihn's deep brown eyes. "Thanks." Shai felt the tears stinging her own eyes. This was why she loved these women. Because they were family in the ways that counted the most. They were there when they needed one another and even when they didn't. For the past two years, they'd laughed and cried together, sharing their lives as only they could with other women. In a silent toast to her friends, she picked up her glass and drank.

"Well, I for one have no desire to crush anything between these thighs," Jennifer spoke. "Anything that gets between these legs will sigh with pleasure...not pain." Shai choked on her wine. Without missing a beat, Jennifer pounded her on the back as she continued. "I haven't had any complaints yet." "Nor will you ever, dear," Melanie said. She grinned as the waitress appeared with another bottle of burgundy. "Can you grab some of these here?" She waved her hand at the empty wine bottles that littered the table before returning her attention to her friends. "Of course, that doesn't fix the matter at hand." "Which is?" Erihn asked. "Finding a lover for Shai," Vivian frowned at the young woman. "Weren't you paying attention at all? "Well, of course I was. I'm sitting right here." Shai leaned back, the base of her wineglass hitting the plate with a chime of fine china. "How in the world did we get on this topic? Who says I need a lover anyway?" "I did, dear." Vivian captured the bottle of burgundy before Melanie could help herself. She leaned around Erihn to fill Shai's glass and then her own. "It's your thirty-first birthday today and, in the two years I've known you, you've never mentioned a man once." "So?" "This needs to stop." Melanie liberated the bottle from Viv and filled her own glass. "Come to think about it, I've never heard you speak about any men. What's up with that?" Shai picked up her glass and took a quick swallow. How in the world was she going to get out of this one gracefully? She set the glass on the table before she spoke. "Just because I don't need a man to make my life complete, does this make me a freak?" "Yes," they all spoke in unison. Shai rolled her eyes. "So much for woman's lib. It's lost on you guys. I don't see anything wrong with being alone." "I do. It simply isn't natural." Jennifer leaned forward to pick up her case and extract a cigarette. "Take me, for example. I'm a very successful journalist and I'm not in a relationship. However," she dropped the case on the table, "I do have several gentlemen I can call to entertain me and take the edge off." Shai blinked. "Take the edge off what?" "Sex, dear." Vivian snared a crab claw off the platter in the center of the table and set to freeing the succulent white meat. "You know, to get your rocks off?" "To get nailed," Jennifer returned, her tone wry. "To poke the hole in the doughnut," Melanie chimed in. "Youladies are so vulgar," Erihn spoke without heat.

Vivian grinned, "Thank you, little mouse." She popped the chunk of crab, dripping with butter, into her mouth. "Oh, brother." Shai rolled her eyes again. "You're a virgin," Melanie announced. Silence reigned at the table as Shai found her friends hushed for the first time that evening. They watched her, their expressions ranging from doubt to wonder as they pondered this idea. She squirmed in her seat, uncomfortable with their questioning stares. She wasn't a virgin...but she wasn't far from the mark either. In fact, Melanie's off-hand statement was a little too close for comfort. Hasty fumblings in college with a nearsighted computer major didn't make for a satisfied woman. After her somewhat anti-climactic experience, she'd decided that sex wasn't all it was cracked up to be, so she hadn't pursued it further. However, technically, she wasn't a virgin. "I am not," she protested. "Just because I don't sleep with half of the New York Yankees..." "I object." Vivian dipped another bit of crab into her container of drawn butter. "It was only the first baseman and the shortstop." A sensual throaty laugh escaped her. "And let me say, my dears, he was anything but short." "Really?" exclaimed Melanie. "Do tell." Vivian shifted in her seat. A soft smile played about her thin, red-painted lips. "He had this thing about biting my toes as he came." She shook her head. "Very strange, as I'd never seen that particular trick before. But he did have this amazing maneuver with..." "Stop!" Erihn's hand came up to halt any further revelations, her cheeks crimson. Jennifer reached for the wine. "That's a word that's never passed Vivian's lips." "Oh, I don't know, the worddon't might have been in front of that." Melanie cracked a lobster tail with a practiced flick of her wrist as the ladies dissolved into laughter. Shai drained her wineglass. Her cheeks were hot and she just knew she was blushing to the roots of her already-red hair. She'd never understood how all of them had become friends over the years. They were all so different with very little in common. She glanced at Vivian, stunning in her blue silk jacket and black leather pants. Her clothing, cultured accent and mannerisms screamed money. Divorced several times, Vivian was known for her outlandish lovers, her flaunting of society's mores and her family's seemingly limitless supply of cash. She was lesser known for her charitable works with the homeless within New York City, but that was something she rarely spoke about. A stunning brunette with a wicked sense of humor, she moved in circles that Shai could only dream of. Jennifer, physically, was almost Vivian's twin. Both had black hair, Jen's long and straight while Viv's was short and curly. Distinguished and elegant, Jennifer was one of the nations' top print journalists and Shai's co-worker at theNew York Times . Jennifer was also one of the lucky three percent who made the big money at it. After writing a piece on a little known war in South America and winning a Pulitzer, the sky was the limit for her and she wrote her own ticket. Shai knew little about her background and

Jennifer volunteered very little personal information. Melanie was the vivacious one of the group. Blonde and a bit ditzy, she'd worked for a late night television talk show as the cue card girl. Her many appearances on television when the show's flamboyant host had picked on her during the show had given her entrée to commercials and soon she was headed to Hollywood to make her first movie. She dreamed of making it big in the movies and marrying Mel Gibson. While the Mel Gibson part was out, they all wished her well and supported her at every turn. And then there was Erihn who was like none of them. She was a romance writer and a long-time friend of Jennifer's. Erihn and Shai had met when Shai, on her first assignment as a reporter, had been sent to interview her on the changing face of romance novels. Both women were almost painfully shy, but they'd hit if off immediately, becoming the best of friends. But someone was missing. "Where's Evie?" Shai asked. Vivian shrugged and reached for a roll. "Maybe she got tied up?" Melanie sighed. "Only if she's lucky." "No. Don't tell me that white-bread man you're engaged to ties you up?" Jennifer drawled. Erihn leaned forward, the candlelight flickered over the scar, making it softer, less apparent. Shai could practically see her jotting mental notes for yet another book. "Only once." Melanie's creamy skin grew flushed and Shai couldn't tell if it was from the alcohol, conversation, or the memories of the event in question. "It was wonderful. Liberating, actually." Vivian licked butter off her fingers and grinned at her blonde friend. "Isn't it just?" Shai blinked. After all the years of outrageous conversations, she should be used to this kind of talk by now. But she wasn't and it made her uneasy. Sex was foreign to her and, in her mind, overrated. She picked up her wineglass and drained it yet again. She'd already had much more than she was used to drinking and tomorrow she'd pay the price. "So, what's your ultimate sexual fantasy, Jennifer?" Erihn asked, her eyes bright with curiosity and far too much wine. "Mmmm," Jennifer paused, her lips screwed up in concentration. "I don't know." A wicked gleam entered her eyes. "How about handcuffed in the back of a police car? Cuffed to the dividing cage while Joe Police-guy frisks me with his really hard...baton." Erihn and Melanie dissolved into laughter as Vivian smiled. "Been there, done that. His last name was Mathison from the 13th precinct here in New York." She sighed and picked up her wineglass, her eyes growing dreamy. "And, oh my, what a baton he had." "Okay." Jennifer stubbed out her cigarette, her tone challenging. "What's your ultimate fantasy, Viv dear, and don't be shy."

"Yet another word that's never been associated with Viv," Melanie laughed. Vivian paused, her glass halfway to her mouth. Her expression turned whimsical. "Well, I can't honestly think of many things I fantasize about when, let's face it, I've lived most of them. I suppose, if I really had to come up with one, there is the bar wench fantasy, the Madame and slave fantasy, and the bad cop fantasy isalways a good one..." "Just one, Viv. You needn't recite your entire repertoire of tricks," grumbled Jennifer. She picked up the now-empty bottle of wine and waved it in the direction of the waitress. "Hmm...probably the saloon girl fantasy." Vivian shifted in her chair. "I'm working in a saloon in the old west as some trail riders come in. Three of them, I think. They order a drink as they eye me in my revealing peasant blouse." She traced her fingertips lightly over the suntanned skin showing between the lapels of her jacket. A sensual smile curved her lips as she began to lose herself in the fantasy. "The tallest man's name is Stud Lonewolf and he's a sight for sore eyes. With long blond hair, dark blue eyes and pecs that would make a romance cover model cry with shame. As I set his drink in front of him, he grabs my wrist and pulls me into his lap." She shifted in her seat once more before crossing and re-crossing her legs. "I can tell it's been a long time since he's seen a real women. He whispers in my ear all the wicked things he wants to do to me. As I lean back against his chest, he reaches up to untie my blouse and my breasts fall free. Callused fingers tease my nipple as his knee parts my thighs. "His teeth nip my neck as one hand traces down my side, across my thighs to the bottom of my skirt. His hand on my skin causes goosebumps to break out. His fingers tear into my pantaloons to plunder my waiting flesh. Growing impatient, he reaches down with his free hand to unleash himself before lifting me to rub against his stiff rod. My eyes fly open at the sensation to realize that his two friends are watching me. As their eyes grow dark with lust, Stud impales me on his manhood." Her voice changed pitch as she continued. "Soft groans escape my lips as his blond friend comes forward. His greedy lips suckle my breast as I twine my fingers in his hair. The third man comes over to take my other breast into his mouth as Stud forces me up and down...up and down. It's relentless. Just as I begin to reach my peak, he comes with a growl, deep inside of me. "For a second, I'm disappointed. But, before I can draw breath, the blond cowboy grabs me around the waist and tosses me on the table, thighs spread. Releasing a cock that would do a horse proud, he shoves inside and begins thrusting. Pumping, pumping until screams claw my throat and I shatter into a million pieces in his arms." Vivian slumped in her chair and fell silent. Her cheeks were flushed, a look of near satisfaction on her face. Shai swallowed hard and reached for her wineglass.Goodness... "What about the third guy?" Melanie asked, entranced. Leave it to Melanie. Shai struggled not to choke on her wine. Vivian picked up her napkin to fan her rosy cheeks. "Oh, him. I wait and nail him later." Jennifer burst into laughter and slapped her palm on the table. "Bravo, dearest!"

Vivian grinned. "Too bad I only have a vibrator to go home to tonight. I'm feeling a bit frisky right now." She cast an appraising look around the restaurant as if to spy a willing victim. "Amen, sister," Erihn whispered. She picked up her wine and gulped the remains. Jennifer turned her dark eyes on Shai. "So tell us what gets your panties in a bunch, my dear?" Shai blinked. "My fantasies?" Vivian gave a throaty laugh. "Why, of course. I have a feeling you aren't as pristine as you pretend to be." Her flashing blue eyes dared Shai to step up to the plate. "Whoever said I was pristine?" Shai squeaked. "No one, dear." Erihn patted her hand as if to soothe ruffled feathers. Shai stared at her neglected dinner while four pairs of expectant eyes watched her. What did she do now? She cleared her throat. "Well..." She hesitated before letting her eyes drift closed. "I'm lying in my bed. It's a hot summer night, like tonight. The drapes are moving in a faint breeze, but it's not strong enough to relieve the humidity that has me trapped in my bed. Restless, I kick at my covers as a shadow appears in the window. It's a man." "Who are you?" She whispered. "You know who I am." His voice was deep, sensual like the purr of a giant jungle cat. Ripples of awareness moved across her skin. Her nipples tightened beneath her simple cotton nightgown. "Yes, I know who you are." She sat upright in her bed and held out her hand in silent invitation to the dark figure in the window. "What do you want from me?" he asked. "Come to me." "You're inviting me in?" "Yes," she replied. "Once I cross the threshold, there is no going back. Is this what you really want?" She rose to her knees, her gown clinging to her overheated skin. "Yes, I want you, all of you." His teeth gleamed in the darkness when he smiled. He stepped in through the window, onto her window seat, scattering soft pillows with his booted feet. He was very tall, much taller than her five foot four. He was dressed in all black-- black jeans and a black T-shirt that stretched across his broad chest and shoulders. Black hair brushed his shoulders in a tumble of riotous curls. Feverish blue eyes gleamed beneath heavy brows. His full sensual mouth curved in pleasure. "I've come to give you your ultimate fantasy."

She gave a faint nod. He held out his hand, tempting her to reach for the ecstasy he offered. Hesitant, she reached for him, her breath caught as his warm fingers closed around hers. With a gentle tug, he urged her to her feet. Her gown swirled around her thighs as she moved toward him. A strong arm slipped around her waist as he gathered her close, his arousal evident against her lower stomach. "Tell me what you want," he whispered against her skin. His lips moved over her neck, taking a nibble here, a taste there. "Everything. Anything. I want every woman's fantasy." She sighed as his mouth touched her ear, teasing the delicate lobe. His husky chuckle raised gooseflesh on her skin, "I did your laundry and balanced your checkbook." Shai opened her eyes to find her friends staring at her, their expressions ranging from wonder to outright amusement. Suddenly, Melanie and Erihn broke into shrieks of laughter. Viv lifted her cigarette case, a soft smile tugging at her mouth. "Well, that's definitely a fantasy we know will never happen. Brava, my friend." Jennifer shrugged. "Not true, Viv. It could happen with some men." She turned toward Shai. "Is that your fantasy? A tall dark stranger entering your bedroom in the dark of night? To make love to you until you can't think? To fulfill your darkest fantasies?" "Sounds good to me." Erihn reached for her glass of water. Tears of mirth streaked her cheeks. "I don't know." Shai shrugged. "If I knew I was perfectly safe?" She took another drink of wine. She knew she was half-past drunk now and careening her way into dangerous territory. For her to discuss her sexual fantasies was something she would never think of doing, ever. But here she was, sitting in a public restaurant drinking loads of wine and discussing intimacies with her friends. A sudden streak of boldness shot through her and she sat forward, slamming her glass onto the table. "Sure? Why not? Who wouldn't want to have a dark handsome stranger take control of them, body and soul? To make love until they merge as one? To be worshipped with his body till the end of time?" Jennifer nodded, a speculative gleam in her eyes. "Another one of my favorite fantasies." Vivian nodded slowly. "As is mine." She raised her wineglass in Shai's direction. "Happy birthday, my friend. I think you just revealed more about yourself than you'll ever know." Jennifer raised her glass. "And may your darkest fantasies come true, my dear Shai." Shai laughed and raised her glass as Erihn followed suit. "To fantasies." Chimed in Melanie as they clinked their glasses and the occupants dissolved into laughter. Shai raised her glass to her lips and the laughter caught in her throat when a shifting in the shadows snared her attention. She glanced over Melanie's head to stare into the darkest blue eyes she'd ever seen.

Prickles of awareness raced across her skin and her nipples tightened against the soft lace of her bra. Her mouth went dry. Surely he was a figment of her imagination. No mortal man could have eyes so dark, so ageless. So haunted. He was, without a doubt, the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. Piercing blue eyes shadowed by winged black brows. Black hair swept away from his high forehead to fall an inch below his shoulders in soft waves that her fingers ached to explore. Sharp features, high cheekbones and a patrician nose, saved from austere by his mouth. Full and sensual, it screamed of long, hot nights, rumpled silk sheets and musky sex. It was the face of a fallen angel. He was definitely not of this earthly plane. Images came unbidden of the two of them in her wrought iron canopy bed. Sweat gleamed on skin as his hands stroked her overheated flesh seemingly everywhere at once. Her heart thundered in her chest as she imagined his lips on her stomach, leaving a damp trail as he moved toward her breast. His mouth closed over its aching tip and he suckled deeply as she arched off the bed toward him, wanting more of his dark magic. Her hands clinging to broad shoulders, her thighs opening to him, permitting access to the apex that wept only for this man. For his touch alone. A whimper broke from her lips as sensation poured through her body. She jerked in her chair, her wineglass clattering against her plate as she bobbled it and blindly set it down. Her breath came in gasps, the unexpected arousal leaving her unsatisfied body throbbing in places she barely acknowledged even existed. Erihn turned and frowned at her as Jennifer gave a delighted laugh and held her hands toward the stranger in greeting. "Are you okay?" Erihn whispered. Shai was shaken as he broke eye contact, looking away from her to speak with Jennifer. She nodded, wondering if she really was okay. What on earth was wrong with her? She'd never reacted like that to another human being in her life. She moved the wine out of reach and picked up her glass of water. No more alcohol for her, that was for sure. The stranger's voice interrupted her musings. It was deep and resonant with a faint accent she couldn't place. A shiver zipped across her skin. Rich, like dark chocolate, fine aged brandy or velvet, it was a voice she could listen to for an eternity. She resisted the peculiar urge to swoon. "I had business with Jacques, the owner here." He moved with the lethal grace of a big cat. Unconscious, sexy. No mortal man should be able to move like that. It had to be illegal somewhere. Pleasure curled in her stomach, sending waves of desire racing through her blood. Stop that. Time to sober up. Coffee, maybe? Yes, coffee, that would surely do the trick. She glanced around for their waitress who was nowhere in sight. Damn! The stranger laughed and her toes curled with pleasure as her gaze was dragged back against her will.

He held Jennifer's hand and Shai struggled to quell the rush of jealousy as he brought it to his mouth. His smile was intimate, his gaze knowing as he brushed his mouth over her skin. Jennifer laughed and pulled her hand away. "Quit trying to impress me, Val. You forget yourself." He smiled easily, unabashed by Jennifer's rejection and Shai's heart gave a little flutter. This man was dangerous to her well being and she knew, in that instant, nothing would ever be the same again. He glanced around the table, his gaze coming to rest on her. His eyes glittered with a dark heat. "Indeed, I do. It's hard to remember myself when I am surrounded by such beauty." He tipped his head in her direction. The dim lights gleamed in his thick glossy black hair, giving it a bluish sheen. Melanie gave an awkward twitter as Shai forced herself to look away. "Is it?" quipped Vivian. Her eyes were fastened to the front of the stranger's pants. "Doesn't look like it to me, but give it some time." A catlike smile curved her mouth as she licked her lips. He chuckled as he moved around the table to take Vivian's hand and kiss it also. He crouched beside her to murmur something into her ear as Viv pressed her ample breast against his chest and circled an arm around his shoulders, tangling those obscene red nails in his hair. Shai's cheeks heated in the face of such a blatant attempt at seduction. She shifted her gaze, staring down at her plate while trying to ignore Vivian. She'd never been the kind of woman who attracted men easily. There were times when simply conversing with a man could bring on hives. She wished she could slip under the table and vanish in the face of her friend's easy sensuality. The soft caress of a fingertip touched her cheek, bringing her head up. She glanced around. No one was even looking in her direction, let alone close enough to touch her. "Shai." Jennifer's voice brought her attention back to the table. "I'd love for you to meet someone. This is Valentin and he's a very old and dear friend of mine." She waved her hand in his general direction. "Val, this is Shai Jordan, a much newer friend of mine." Shai caught the amusement in Jennifer's voice and flushed. She tensed as the dark man untangled himself from Viv and moved toward her with his lazy grace. A richly embroidered vest hung open, displaying laces on his flowing white shirt. Open at the throat, it revealed the strong column of his throat melding into broad muscular shoulders. Black jeans clung to taut muscular thighs. A black belt with a plain gold buckle circled his waist and black boots encased his feet. Easily he captured her hand within his much larger one. Warmth surrounded before invading her chilled flesh. Strong fingers, artist's fingers, encircled hers as he slowly raised her hand toward his mouth. "Enchanté." His breath teased the sensitized skin of her knuckles. His lips were warm and dry, eliciting a shiver as his tongue touched the back of her hand. Carnal images crowded her mind as desire burned her like a wildfire. Before her eyes flashed images of this man in her bed, buried deep within her, burrowing into her very soul.

Val pulled away, his teeth shutting with a sharp click and Shai caught a glimpse of an emotion akin to shock racing across his face. Was he in pain? "Are you okay?" she asked, startled when her voice came out husky. He flashed her a picture perfect smile. "Better than I was before meeting you." He straightened smoothly, never releasing her hand. "Ladies, it has been a great pleasure seeing you, but I am afraid I have to run." He glanced down at Shai, his gaze capturing and holding hers easily. "Business does not await my personal pleasures." He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. Vivian fairly purred her displeasure. "That's too bad, Val. It's been such along time since we've seen each other. We're headed to the Pyramid after dinner. Maybe you can join us there?" "Indeed, it has been a long time. If I can get away, it would be an honor to join you ladies this evening." His gaze never left Shai's as he raised her hand to his lips once again. "Until next we meet, little one." He kissed her hand a second time, his teeth brushing her skin before he released her. Turning, he headed toward the door, every woman's eye on him as he exited. "Nowthat is a fantasy," Erihn announced into the silence. "It seems our little Shai caught Val's eye," Jennifer commented. "Lucky girl. I've been after him since he first appeared in New York about a year ago." Vivian's tone was sour. "Never even looked twice at me." "I certainly wouldn't kick him out of bed," Melanie said. "I wouldn't either," Shai, still feeling dazed, spoke through numb lips. Vivian laughed, her pique apparently forgotten. "It's about damned time. A man to turn Shai's head. And what a man he is." She leaned closer to Shai. "Watch out, little one. Val is one of the sharks in the ocean of life," she paused. "Of course, that makes him all the more desirable." She raised her wineglass. "Here's to Shai and her deepest, darkest fantasies. Long may Val fill them...and a few other things." "I don't..." Shai began, only to realize they were no longer listening to her. Shivers danced along her spine as she recalled his deep blue eyes and sinfully sexy mouth. "Oh, what the hell... Here's to fantasies."

Chapter 2 Shai tumbled headfirst through her apartment door. Clinging to the doorknob, she skidded to a stop as her oversized purse banged into the coat tree, sending it crashing to the floor. She straightened and stared at it, her vision distorted as if she were underwater. "Bummer." Her voice sounded slurred and she giggled as she kicked the door shut with one foot. She started across the wood floor toward the darkness of her bedroom door. As she walked, she discarded her clothing in

an uneven trail, marking her progress through the apartment. Her silk jacket landed on the arm of a chair, her purse a hill of soft leather in the middle of her living room. Next came her black skirt, a puddle of velvet in the hall. As she neared the doorway, she noticed with alarm that the room was tilting. She reached out a hand to brace herself against the wall and keep herself upright. "What the..." She glanced down at her feet. One high-heeled shoe was missing. She turned too fast only to send her head spinning and she staggered into the wall with a thud. "Oooof..." She squinted toward the hall, looking for the missing footwear. Her errant shoe lay tangled in her skirt. "Too much effort." Turning, she stumbled through the door, losing her other shoe in the process. Her shirt slithered to the floor. Her four-poster bed lay bathed in a pool of brilliant moonlight. The windows were wide open and a soft, humid breeze tugged at the heavy blue drapes. With a sigh of delight, Shai fell onto the bed, her body numb with drink and sensual intoxication. Her fingers curled into the crisp white sheets. Oh, how she loved her bed. It was the best bed in the world. Unbidden, an image of Val entered her mind. She groaned. Val in her room. In her bed. In her. She closed her eyes and grabbed a pillow to cradle it against her overheated body. Enough of that. Fantasies were one thing, but her reality was that a man like Val would never be interested in a boring, white-cotton woman like her. She sighed into her pillow and scrunched her face deeper into the pristine cotton, willing her body to relax. Within seconds, she gave in to the demands too much alcohol had placed on her, and she fell asleep.

She looked like a whore. The vampire settled on the windowsill, mere feet from the woman's sleeping form. A derisive smile curled his lips. Whore or not, she was even more exquisite than he'd ever imagined. Thick red hair lay tumbled across her pillow in a river of curls. Dark lashes shadowed her cheeks, hiding eyes he knew were a brilliant green. A small, delicately shaped nose with a slight bump at the bridge as if it had been broken at one time. Her mouth was generous with a full lower lip and slightly thinner upper one. Her skin was the creamy delight of a redhead. Her throat was slender, marred only by a small scar at the base on the right side. Perfection.

A black lace bra barely covered her breasts, full and round. He ached to touch them, to taste them. Her belly looked soft and inviting while her hips and upper thighs were covered by a silk half-slip. Naughty black nylons encased her thighs and lovely calves down to slender ankles and feet. A delicate gold ankle bracelet glittered in the moonlight. He certainly appreciated her choice in underclothing. But he was surprised that a woman as conservative as Shai would dress like a seasoned harlot beneath her street clothes. It would be so easy to kill her, he thought dispassionately. He knew exactly where to touch her slender throat and, in mere seconds, she'd be one of the dearly departed. Just another victim found dead in their bed in the city called New York. He looked at his hands, his pale skin gleaming white in the moonlight. They didn't look like they were over nine hundred years old. Nine hundred years of murder, mayhem and blood. He stroked his chin. For Shai's sake, it would be more humane for her if he did kill her with his hands. Quick and efficient, no fuss no muss. No mortal would want to live through what he'd planned for her. But even when he'd been human, he hadn't been humane. A mirthless smile curved his mouth. Oh, how he wanted her. More now than the first time he'd laid eyes on her. Every year, the desire had grown stronger until he'd reached this breaking point. Sitting outside of her bedroom window watching her sleep, lusting after her yet unwilling to touch her. Yet. Soon her time would come. A faint, self-deprecating laugh escaped him. She stirred in sleep, a frown marring the perfection of her face. As if she knew he was there, she turned her face and twisted her body away from his gaze as if to avoid him. The silk half-slip tightened, sliding up to reveal the tops of her stockings and the tiny black thong panties she wore. The vampire's breath caught in his throat and a faint hiss of air escaped him. Her panties left nothing to the imagination. Moonlight gilded the perfection of her skin, the smooth slopes and tantalizing indentations. Her backside was larger than considered fashionable by today's standards. But it was perfectly round and taut. He preferred his women to be shaped like women, not sticks with boobs. This beauty had something to hang onto, a backside that would fill his ample hands admirably. He longed to slip in her window and grab her, pulling her against his raging erection. To bury himself in her softness until she cried. He pictured himself in bed with her, her body moving against him, her eyes sleepy with lust. A growl escaped his throat. With one last look at the sleeping woman, he turned away. Mortal women. They were the downfall of many a vampire. To meld with living flesh, breathing and crying out beneath him, on top of him, it didn't matter. It was an addiction and he was in serious need of a fix. Weakness was weakness and it had to be either destroyed or appeased. He glanced back at her. It

was rare that a mortal had reached him the way she did, the way she always had. Just as her mother had many years before. He bared his teeth. The moonlight seemed even more brilliant than it had been before. It was time to feed and feed he must. Clicking his jaw in frustration, the vampire caressed her one last time with his gaze. Moving with the near silence of one of the very old, he leapt from the window to the alley thirty feet below. He landed with a gentle thud and straightened, checking to ensure his clothing was in perfect order before moving toward the mouth of the alley and the darkened streets beyond. Shai's time would come, as would her companions. He knew that for a certainty. Unfortunately her friends were average, not exceptional like her. If they'd been exceptional, he might have spared them. The only possible exception was Jennifer. She could be a problem. But the rest of them would serve their purpose and serve it well. First things first, though. There was a merry game to be played. The players in this drama were in place and act one had already commenced. Laughter filled the night as the vampire faded into the shadows.

"So who's the woman?" Val started, the forgotten book falling from his fingertips to land on the pine floor with a hollow thump. He looked up to see his unexpected visitor standing near the fireplace, a bemused expression on her face. "Miranda, what a lovely surprise. I didn't hear you pop in." A silvery laugh echoed in the expanse of the library. "That's a new one." Miranda shed her black velvet cape and draped it over the back of the chair across from him. She stooped to rescue the leather-bound book from the floor. "Wuthering Heights," she read, carefully closing the cover. Her crimson fingernails gleamed in the subdued lighting as she stroked the priceless binding. "First edition, even. Dreaming of unrequited love, my friend?" A smile danced across her face as she perched on the arm of the opposite chair. "Just enjoying a classic, my dear." Val rose from the chair to reclaim his book from her. She didn't release it. "What's her name?" "And why do you think a woman is on my mind?" he asked, careful to keep his tone light. Her smile turned sad, almost disappointed. "And who knows you better than I? You can fool others, but you can never fool me." He brushed his finger down her cold cheek. The first time he'd laid eyes on her, he'd thought Miranda was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. Hair as black as night fell in thick luscious waves to her tiny waist. Skin the color of clotted cream, by contrast her lips were full and red. Deep blue eyes framed

in sooty lashes stared, unflinching in their regard of him. Tall and built like a Rubenesque statue, she was perfection wrapped in a rich, black velvet dress. She was a woman many men would desire. Miranda was his dark angel, his savior. She'd saved him from himself many times through the years they'd been friends and confidants. But he also knew she wanted more, much more than he could give. It pained him to hurt her so. When he'd met the red-haired angel last night, he'd known it was inevitable that someone would be hurt. Unfortunately, it would be Miranda. "Never you, Miranda," he whispered. She released her grip on the book; her gaze unwavering as she folded her hands in her lap like a prim spinster at an afternoon tea. "She's mortal?" "Yes." His tone was resigned. Didn't she see that he didn't want to hurt her with this? "Do you love her?" Anger surged to life. How could he dare love any mortal woman? Their relationship would always be doomed to failure and loss. A vampire would always outlive a mortal, many lifetimes over. "How can I love her?" he bit out. "How can I love anyone?" "The same way any of us can love." Her tone was soft, her voice musical, sensual. It was that voice which had pulled him back from the edge many times. He felt the lure of it even now. "I've only met her once." "She must be quite the woman to have captured your attention." "It's only lust." He said the words, but they rang hollow to his ears. "If you believe it's only lust, then you're a bigger fool than I ever knew you were." She looked down to pick at imaginary lint on her skirt. "You realize that mortals can be our downfall?" "Yes." She abandoned her task, raising her gaze to meet his. "Do you want to die that badly?" she whispered. "No, not anymore. I have you to thank for that." He moved away from her and toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. "I don't know how to explain it." Burgundy velvet drapes were pulled back to reveal the clear, starry night. The shadows beyond the glass beckoned his soul and, for the first time in many years, he wanted to curse the night which enshrouded him. "You don't have to explain, Val," Miranda spoke softly. "You owe me nothing." "No, you're wrong," he said, his voice harsh. "I owe you everything." He turned to the beauty who stared at him with the face of love. Love that would ease the crushing loneliness of his life. Love he could never return. "Everything." "You owe me nothing you will not give willingly." Her tone was pained as she rose from her perch. "I'll take nothing you do not offer of yourself." She picked up her cape and moved to stand before him, her cool fingers caressing his face as if committing it to memory. She dropped her hand as tears filled her

eyes. "I take my leave of you with a heart filled with love for the boy you once were, and the man you've become." She vanished, leaving the faint scent of jasmine and a delicate tingling on his skin. His heart heavy, Val turned, his eyes once again searching the darkness of a New York night. How had his life come to this?

Retribution Book II: The Shadow Dwellers

by

J. C. Wilder

Copyright © 1999 Lisa Hamilton Previously published by Dreams Unlimited.

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

ISBN 1-55316-072-X (electronic) ISBN 1-55316-930-1 (REB 100 1200)

I. Title. PS3623.I45R48 2001 813'.6 C2001-902071-6

Dedication If you are truly blessed, someone will enter your life and demonstrate that courage, strength and dignity are more than just words in the dictionary. This one's for you Daddy.

Acknowledgements I would like to thank the following people, without whose support there would be no J. C. Wilder. Carol - Your friendship and wisdom mean more to me than you will ever know. Julia - For saying "You Can" every time I say, "I can't." Debbie - For listening to me blather about vampires, were- cats and witches...oh my! To the Ladies of the Keep - may the Moet always be chilled, may the bonbons always be Godiva, and may the DB's always dance in your honor.

Chapter 1 Current day - London, England Conor MacNaughten gripped his partner's generous hips as he thrust into her. Her magnificent breasts, highlighted by the harsh noonday sun, jiggled with his movements and with each thrust an excited cry broke from her lips. Damp blonde hair obscured her features as she dug at the tangled sheets with red-tipped claws. The scent of sex filled the air. Catherine had the best breasts he'd seen in years, at least for breasts that were organically grown. Large and pert with coral shaded aureoles and distended nipples, these beauties were a feast for a starving man. And Conor MacNaughten considered himself a starving man. His hips never slowing, he leaned forward, took a firm nipple into his mouth and suckled deeply. A hoarse cry emerged from Catherine's mouth as she bucked wildly beneath him. She reached for him

and fisted her hands in his hair. He nipped at her breast, leaving a tiny love bite before lavishing attention on the other as he continued his slow thrusts. Rolling his hips easily as he slipped into her moist heat, he felt the faint tingling in the back of his calves that signaled his approaching orgasm. "Conor...." Mac paused, stifling a groan. While her body was any seventeen-year- old's wet dream, her voice was a definite problem. Shrill and somewhat whiny, it was the voice of a petulant five-year-old, not a mature, sexually adventurous woman. And he definitely was not in the mood to listen to it now. It had been over three weeks since he last had sex and he had some lost time to make up. Without as so much as a "by your leave," he withdrew from her damp heat, and gathered the scattered pillows from the floor. As he bent over, his medallion swung forward on its fine gold chain and hit him on the nose. Impatiently, he tossed it over his shoulder and continued his task, piling the pillows on the bed. Grabbing her by her waist, he then rolled her over onto the pyramid of silk so that her generous backside now pointed upward. "What are you...." He cut her off by gently pushing her face down into the sheets, angling her backside even higher and exposing her glistening inner flesh. He thrust deep inside her once again and her muffled squeal of delight emanated from the bedcovers. Taking a firm grip on her hips, Mac settled himself in for a leisurely ride.

Current Day - South of Manchester, England Terror and rage warred within Jennifer Beaumont's soul as she entered the sprawling house. Rage was winning the battle. The massive front door slammed with a heavy thud as she kicked it shut. Her Italian leather pumps clicked sharply on the marble floor as she barreled toward the double doors of the library. She tossed her purse in the direction of the glass-topped table in the center of the foyer, where it glanced off the towering vase of pink and white gladioli. The arrangement tottered dangerously before righting itself. "Damn his miserable hide," she swore as she wrenched the brass doorknob downward. She hit the oak door with the palm of her hand, slamming it backward into the wall with a crash, destroying the cozy scene inside. The vampire Mikhail stood before the fireplace watching her entrance with an indulgent smile. Hundreds of years ago, she'd thought Mikhail a handsome man. At six feet in height, every inch of it lean-muscled, he cut a striking figure. His pale gold hair was shorn just beneath his ears and neatly combed back to reveal a narrow face with exquisite cheekbones, sharp nose and a full mouth. With his impeccably cut black leather pants that accentuated his strong runner's legs and his flowing white silk shirt, he resembled a golden pirate of old. It was only when she looked into his eyes that she could see his one flaw. He had no soul. His icy blue eyes reflected only emptiness.

"Damn your black heart, Mikhail," Jennifer ground out. "You've gone too far this time." He laughed gently and held his arms out as if he expected a welcoming hug. "Darling Jennifer, is this anyway to greet your master?" Jennifer could barely control the rage that flared as he spoke. She wanted to scream until the fine crystal of the chandelier shattered, raining down on them in piercing shards. She wished to tear him limb from limb, scattering the pieces to the ends of the earth. She wanted to personally escort his black soul to the very gates of hell. Calling upon her infamous iron will, she restrained herself. Throwing a fit in front of Mikhail would accomplish very little. Indeed, it would only give him the upper hand. "What have you done?" she bit out. Mikhail's smiled smoothly, his movements fluid as he picked up a squat Baccarat crystal glass filled with a thick red liquid. Jennifer caught the scent of chilled blood, like cold wet pennies, as he slowly swirled the glass. "I have no idea what you are speaking of, Jennifer," he purred. Never taking his eyes from hers, he took a sip of the liquid. Jennifer masked her revulsion as he swallowed. Mikhail's smile broadened as he licked his lips and tipped his head slightly in her direction. "Is this an example of your legendary manners, Jennifer? You storm into my home, damage my library wall and so rudely ignore my guest." With one slim, pale hand, he gestured to the woman seated on the couch. "Your mother would be ashamed of you." Ignoring his jibe, Jennifer's lip curled as she turned to see Gabrielle DesNoir. Gabrielle's brilliant blue eyes gleamed in stark contrast to the whiteness of her long hair and pale skin. Her full lips were painted a shiny blood red. Her finely honed body was clad in a white leather bustier dress, with matching silk stockings and four-inch pumps. All in all, she was a perfect advertisement for an ice princess from hell. Gabrielle was well known and not particularly well liked in most vampire circles. Her appeal lay in the fact that her lover, Mikhail, was one of the most powerful vampires on the planet. Very few immortals dared to say no to him. Gabrielle was a young vampire, only about a hundred years old and still learning. With Mikhail as her mentor, she was far more advanced than the average century-old vampire. She was also known for her lack of scruples, which made her the perfect partner for him. Jennifer inclined her head in Gabrielle's direction. "Gaby," she acknowledged, knowing how the other woman detested the shortening of her name. "ChèreJennifer, so lovely to see you again." Gabrielle's voice was thick with a French accent that Jennifer knew to be as false as her current hair color. Jennifer turned back to Mikhail. "Where is she?" "I have no idea what you are talking about." He braced his shoulder against the ornate fireplace mantel. His eyes gleamed with the golden glow from the leaping fire. He reminded her of a sleek jungle cat

readying to pounce on its unsuspecting prey. While he might decide to make her his next victim, she wouldn't go down without a fight. "Who's missing?" His expression was bemused. "Miranda of Glencoe." Jennifer didn't miss the spark of satisfaction that flared in his eyes before he feigned surprise. "Really? Miranda is missing? How dreadful. My love," he addressed Gabrielle, "when was the last time we saw Miranda?" Gabrielle rose from the couch with her unearthly grace and moved toward her lover. "Well, I think it may have been a few years, at least. Maybe it was at Kitty Von Helgen's birthday party? She'd just turned 371 though she doesn't look a day over 40." She reached Mikhail's side and took the glass from him, then turned to Jennifer. "I don't remember seeing you at that party. Weren't you invited?" She took a drink, her sharp eyes watching Jennifer over the rim of the glass. Jennifer struggled keep her expression impassive. "I hope the next time I see Kitty Von Helgen it will be to spit upon her rotting corpse," she spoke evenly. Ignoring Gabrielle's start of surprise, she turned her attention back to Mikhail. His icy eyes were amused. "You've gone too far this time, Mikhail," she warned. "Dearest Jennifer, you wound me." He placed a slim hand over his heart as if her words had dealt him a mortal blow. "How can I wound someone who is not human?" She glanced from Mikhail's amused gaze to Gabrielle's self-satisfied one. They were presenting a united front. Maybe now was a good time to put a crease into it. A little dissension in the enemy's ranks was a good thing when faced with open warfare. "Both you and I know that I could never actually hurt you, Mikhail." Jennifer moved over to a navy leather wing chair and settled herself on the arm. Carefully she arranged her burgundy skirt, allowing Mikhail a flash of thigh. She swallowed her revulsion as she felt his interested gaze sweep her flesh. "However," she leaned against the back of the chair, her posture deceptively casual. The v-neck of her blouse gaped slightly, allowing Mikhail an unobstructed view of her black lace bra. "We both know that would be a waste of time and energy." Mikhail smiled faintly. Gabrielle hissed her displeasure as her lover's gaze lingered on Jennifer's exposed flesh. Mikhail ignored her. "What do you want from me, little Jennifer?" "The truth." Jennifer shifted so her blouse once again obstructed his personal peep show. "Renault found evidence of drugs and he saw you and this she-cat steal Miranda away. I want to know why you have done this. As you know, Miranda is an old and dear friend of mine and quite naturally I am concerned for her welfare." Mikhail's smile faltered and then returned in full force. "So much for stealth, my dear," he said to the bristling Gabrielle. He looked again at Jennifer, "And here I thought I was being so clever." Jennifer wasn't fooled. Mikhail was not a stupid man. Unbalanced and reckless yes, but never stupid. He'd wanted Renault to see him and Gabrielle take Miranda. She was as certain as she knew her own name that this little "slip" was a part of his plan. Now she just had to figure out the purpose of his actions and how to get Miranda out of the middle of it. "What have you done with her?"

"I have her hidden away, somewhere safe." "I want to see her." "No," Gabrielle snarled. "You cannot see her. Now you toddle off and tell Val..." Jennifer glanced at Gabrielle, concentrating briefly on the crystal glass in the other woman's hand. A second later it exploded, raining blood and crystal over both Mikhail and Gabrielle, who erupted into shrieks while Mikhail looked pained. "Really Jennifer, Baccarat crystal. Was that necessary?" He retrieved a snowy white handkerchief from his pants pocket and dabbed at the front of his ruined silk shirt. "I think you have damaged enough of my possessions for one day. First you damage the wall by throwing the door open, now this." "You fucking bitch," Gabrielle snarled, her accent changed from stilted French to harsh Brooklyn tones. Jennifer noted with some satisfaction that the exquisite crystal had cut deeply into the woman's hand. Blood flowed from the wound and if it was possible, she looked even paler than before. Jennifer laughed shortly, "It isn't as if you won't heal." She rose from the arm of the chair, fixing Mikhail with her stare. "I meant what I said, Mikhail, I want to see Miranda before this goes on any longer." Mikhail tossed the blood-soaked cloth into the fire with a hiss. "Fine. I will...." "You cannot take her to...." Gabrielle interrupted. "Silence," Mikhail ordered. He glanced down at the slowly expanding pool of blood at her feet. "You are ruining my Aubusson. Get a towel and go drip somewhere else." Gabrielle cradled her injured hand to her chest as she started toward the door and threw a venomous glare at Jennifer. "I will get you for this, you bitch," she snarled. "You are only a revenant, a servant of the Master, and you can be killed." "And you are a woman of your word, aren't you, Gaby?" Jennifer's smile was thin. "Go do your roots, they need attending." As the female vampire stormed from the room, Jennifer knew she would regret her words sooner or later. Her smile faded. Gabrielle would not soon forget this slight and she just might end up paying dearly for having the last word. Jennifer could only hope that she would not end up paying with her life. Mikhail chuckled, causing chills to roll down her spine. "And you thought that I was bad." Jennifer forced a mocking smile. "You sir, are not a very attentive lover." He rolled his eyes theatrically. "If my dearest Gaby were in true mortal danger, as it were, I would leap to the ends of the earth to save her, or at least into town to get her some bandages. But we both know she will heal within moments and be back to prick your side with yet another thorn." "Which we know will do very little if no lasting damage to me as well," Jennifer said lightly. "Touché." Mikhail smiled as he moved across the room to take her arm. "You asked to see Miranda.

She is this way." She took a deep breath, steeling herself for his touch. As his cold hand clasped her arm, the chill sank instantly through the silk of her shirt and fear once again reasserted itself. The first thing she was going to do when she got back to the house was burn her clothing and take a searing hot bath. Yet she nodded serenely and allowed him to lead her from the room. Mikhail escorted her out into the foyer and toward the back of the house. "You have heard the old adage, 'Be careful what you wish for because you soon might get it?'" he asked. Jennifer ignored her growing sense of unease. "What do you hope to accomplish?" He laughed and shivers rippled across her skin. "Even you should know the answer to that one, Jennifer. I want retribution from Val." He shrugged easily as he opened a small door tucked beneath the mammoth staircase. He gestured for her to go first. "He owes me." She glanced uneasily down the narrow, twisting staircase. The scent of mildew, rotting cardboard and something not easily defined reached her nose. She didn't think Mikhail would play foul with her; he needed her too much to accomplish the next step in this deadly game he played. But she still wasn't one hundred percent sure. Besides, she'd never liked small, dark places. "Scared?" Mikhail's smooth voice taunted. Jennifer squared her shoulders and stepped through the door into the stench, stopping at the small landing at the top of the steps that descended into her own personal version of hell. "What does Val owe you for?" she asked, desperate to keep her mind off the numbing darkness that awaited her on those narrow steps. "Where shall I begin? Stealing my women, for one. Shai was mine as her mother was before her. Maeve was also a chosen one as was her sister Rebecca. And let's not forget you, dearest Jennifer. You were to be my greatest triumph until he ruined it. Val had no right to interfere in my plans." He shut the door with a soft click and the darkness was complete. She pressed her back against the wall as he maneuvered past, her hand curled convulsively around the wrought iron banister. He took the opportunity to press tightly against her, and she felt the iron of his arousal. Biting her lip until she tasted blood, she held herself stiff, unyielding as he reached around her, his breath caressing her unprotected throat. "Do you remember that night?" Cool fingertips caressed the exposed skin. "The night I made you immortal?" "Made me a monster, you mean?" Jennifer choked, unable to hide the bitterness in her tone. "You aren't a monster, darling, and you know it. You will live forever, just like me," his voice trailed off as he pressed a tiny kiss against the base of her throat. "Just like me..." "I am nothing like you," she ground out. She raised her hands to his chest and pushed, but he didn't give an inch. Panic blossomed in her chest as the twin devils of the darkness and the vampire began to claw at her soul. "Ah, darling, you are exactly like me. More like me than you will ever know. That is why I chose you. I

would have loved you forever, Jennifer. I would have put you above all others, even Shai. But then you left me." His tone was mock-sorrowful as his hands skimmed down her back to grab at her backside, and he thrust himself against her even tighter. "Escaped is what you mean. Are you angry with Val for taking away Shai and rescuing Maeve or because he, too, escaped you? Is it because he beat you at your own game? He's one of the few vampires that don't cower before you, and that bothers you doesn't it?" She concentrated on her words rather than the man who was pressed so tightly against her. Panic threatened to strangle her as a scream built in her chest. He shoved her, knocking her head into the wall with a sharp rap. "He did not beat me and neither did you. You came back to me not long ago, and you will again," he growled. His hands slid up her back to grip her shoulders, his breath, stale with old blood, on her cheek. "You betrayed me. But then again you betray all the men in your life don't you, my dearest?" Jennifer stiffened at his verbal jab. "I was taught by the master. Aren't we a little old for groping in a closet?" she snapped, struggling for a tone of disdain. Mikhail laughed and then released her abruptly. He flicked a wall switch and the narrow staircase was flooded with light. "If you prefer a bed, I can accommodate you." He moved away, gesturing for her to begin the journey down the twisting steps. "Not on your life." She started down the circular staircase, ducking her head to avoid hitting it on the steps above. "I wouldn't bet on that if I were you." His hand slipped neatly beneath the weight of her long hair, finding the sensitive nape of her neck. She stumbled and had to put her hands on the rough wall to avoid plunging down the remaining steps. "Whose life will you bet on it? Miranda's?" "Stop that," she snapped. Mikhail laughed again and withdrew his hand. "The gods hate cowards." "I would hardly call it cowardice. I would call it good taste," she replied, starting down the steps again, this time keeping herself at least three steps in front of him. "Still mourning for Conor MacNaughten, my dear? Or shall I call him 'The One Who Got Away'? How about your 'Knight in Tarnished Silver'?" He taunted. "He left and never looked back, did he? Called you a few choice names if I remember correctly. Of course your name was Lilith then, wasn't it? Was betrayal your middle name then too, darling Lilith?" Jennifer clutched at the narrow banister, grateful that Mikhail could not see her stricken expression. She'd driven Mac away for his own good, not that he would have seen it that way had he known the circumstances for her defection. Both of their lives had been damaged, hers irrevocably, by her actions. On that night, over a century ago, she'd been left no choice. But not this time. The vampire wouldn't win this game and she would gladly forfeit her life in an effort to stop him from destroying the lives of others. She forced a carefree laugh from her tight throat. "We parted amicably enough over a century ago, Mikhail. Everyone knows that. Why bring up ancient history?" "Is that all it is? Has the love of your life been relegated to 'ancient history' in your mind?" He chuckled

and Jennifer dearly wanted to drive a rusty nail into his heart. "Somehow I don't think so. I think he mattered very much and he still does, much more than you are letting on. Of course, I alone know that he really wasn't the man for you." "Then once again, Mikhail, you are wrong as you were then. I never thought he was the man for me." Engrossed in conversation, Jennifer missed the bottom step. She staggered through the doorway, clutching the doorframe to regain her balance. It opened into a cramped, dank hallway lined with three black doors, each with heavy padlocks. She glanced back at Mikhail. "Is thisLet's Make A Deal and I get to pick a door?" He shook his head, his blond hair gleaming in the subdued lighting. "No, I would say it is more like my own personal chamber of delights." He moved around her easily and strode to the middle door. He unlocked the padlock and opened the door with a flourish. He stepped back, allowing her to once again lead the way. Jennifer saw with a start that the walls of the small room were covered in a shiny reflective material. Candlelight glowed on the walls, giving it an odd golden gleam. She felt like she'd been wrapped in tinfoil. On closer inspection, she noted that thin sheets of beaten sterling silver had been affixed to the walls, floor and ceiling so not a crack of plaster or wood was visible. No vampire or revenant alive would be able to telepathically link to someone on the outside and call for help. Including her. The door closed with a soft snick and she struggled to quell her burgeoning panic. She swallowed, forcing herself to focus on the problem at hand. Now was not the time for hysterics. Miranda needed her calm and focused. Her friend's life depended on the outcome of the next few minutes. In control, she turned toward the narrow bed and the battered woman who lay imprisoned upon it. Under normal circumstances, Miranda of Glencoe was a strikingly beautiful woman. Almost six feet in height, she was built like a Rubenesque statue. Now she lay on the bed, emaciated and pale. Her long black hair was dirty and tangled, her wrists raw from the silver chains that kept her immobilized. Jennifer noted the tattered clothing and the partially healed bite marks on the woman's throat. "What have you done to her?" she whispered, unable to hide her horror. Mikhail tittered. "Only what I knew would bring Val running." Jennifer swallowed the bile that burned at the back of her throat. Rage clawed at her heart. If it took everything she had for the rest of her days on earth, she would see to it that Mikhail paid for the ill he had perpetrated on Miranda. Even if he killed her in the process, it was a small price to pay for a woman who had been one of her only friends so long ago. She forced herself to move toward the bed, her usually graceful movements jerky. She seated herself on the edge of the bed before her knees collapsed beneath her. Hesitantly she touched the woman's hand, where a golden Celtic knot ring gleamed. Jennifer drew her fingers over the familiar pattern that matched the silver ring on her own right hand. A ring of eternity given a lifetime ago from an old vampire to a young and frightened revenant. A low moan escaped Miranda. From the pale hue of her skin and her apparent weakness, she surmised

it had been some time since the vampire had fed. Luckily Miranda was an Elder and could go for a long period of time without feeding and she wouldn't sustain any lasting damage. "Miranda, it's me, Jennifer." She gently stroked the woman's dark hair until her eyes fluttered. "Jen," she whispered through cracked lips. "Hush now. I had to make sure you were alright." Tears burned the back of her eyes as she noted the hollow look of Miranda's expression. What she had endured, Jennifer didn't know, but she had a few ideas of the terror dealt at the hands of Mikhail. "You are in danger here. Leave this evil place," Miranda whispered. "Tell Val that I have caused him enough pain..." "How noble," Mikhail sneered. "Tell him to take his women far from here." Miranda's voice failed her. "No," Mikhail shrieked. "Don't you dare tell him that." In the blink of an eye, Jennifer was hurled away from Miranda's side. She hit the wall with a metallic crash and slid down into a heap on the slippery floor. Dazed, she struggled to her feet as Mikhail loomed over the defenseless woman bound to the bed. As he raised his hand to strike Miranda, Jennifer launched herself at his back. She hit him hard, knocking him off balance enough to keep him from striking her friend. Together they fell over the foot of the bed and onto the floor. Over and over they wrestled until she ended up on the bottom, his body pinning hers. Roughly he shoved between her thighs, pressing his crotch against the apex. "I love women who fight," he ground out, capturing her flailing arms. She struggled, fear making her crazed, and she tried to do anything to get away from him. She clawed at his hands but was unable to inflict any damage because he held her wrists too tightly. Whipping her head around, she snapped at him with her teeth. Abruptly he shoved his arm against her windpipe, forcing her head upward to meet his gaze. "If you bite me, I will tear you to pieces and feed you to my crows," he spoke slowly. He slid his hand downward to roughly clutch at her breast. Jennifer forced her voice to remain steady, "And if you rape me you will never get your retribution from Val. I will see to it that he takes Shai and Maeve far enough away from you that you will never find them." He stopped his rough caress. "You are making this so difficult," he growled. He rocked his hips against her. "Hmm...I could change my game plan. Maybe I will let Miranda go if you submit to me, Jennifer. Don't you remember how much fun we had? We could have that again, but you're going to spoil everything aren't you?" "'Fun,'" she spat at him. "I don't remember anything f-f-fun..." she choked. He shook his head sadly. "Then you don't remember it as I do. What a pity you cannot remember that

night so long ago when..." "I remember everything from that night. All of It." she snarled. He rocked his hips against her again and she strangled a cry before it could make itself heard. "We could have that again," he whispered, his fingers digging painfully into her breast. She glared into his soulless eyes, her breathing harsh. "Hear me now, Mikhail. I will never willingly submit to you." He shrugged, "As if your willingness makes a difference to me. I take what I want and I destroy what I can't have. So be it." "I don't think Gaby would like to see you in this position, would she?" Jennifer tried to ignore his hand as it tightened painfully. She would definitely have some bruises tomorrow. Mikhail laughed, "Gaby does as I say, not the other way around. Nevertheless, I should probably keep my mind on business shouldn't I?" He shifted his hold upward, away from her breast. Tenderly he stroked the slender line of her throat, his movements methodical. "You need to run back and tell Val that I have his little Miranda. I will accept in exchange for her measly life, a meeting with him. He is to come alone to theChapel des Anges Perdu outside Calais, France four days from this evening - midnight." She tensed as he brushed the hair away from the side of her neck. She swallowed audibly as his fingers lightly stroked the base of her throat. "No," she protested, renewing her struggles. A scream began building, as she knew the unthinkable was about to happen as he slowly lowered his head. "Midnight, dearest Jennifer." His icy lips caressed her throat as a scream was torn, against her will, from her very soul. "Midnight." Pain ripped through her body as Mikhail began to feed.

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

Publisher info: Stories that stimulate your laughter, Provoke your tears, Evoke your secret fears,

Stories that make you think...The stuff that dreams are made of...LTDBooks www.ltdbooks.com

Table Of Contents Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 One With The Hunger Retribution About The Author Publisher info: