Six Feet Under

eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work. This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental. Samhain Publishing, Ltd. 2932 Ross Clark Circle, #384 Dothan, AL 36301 Six Feet Under Copyright © 2006 by Mackenzie McKade Cover by Scott Carpenter ISBN: 1-59998-020-7 www.samhainpublishing.com All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief

quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: April 2006

Six Feet Under By Mackenzie McKade

Author’s Notes This book was written prior to Hurricanes Katrina and Rita and their effect on New Orleans’s geography and landmarks in 2005. My deepest sympathies go out to the survivors, while my prayers are with you as you rebuild this remarkable city. Also it should be noted that I have deviated from the accuracy of this fair city in that I reference underground burials. The marshy land and tropical rains in this part of Louisiana make underground burials impractical. In the 18th and 19th centuries above-ground tombs were erected and stand today. I took the liberty to use underground burials in the St. Louis Cemetery No. 1 for effect only.

Dedication To my mother who said I could do anything I put my heart into. I love you.

Acknowledgements Special thanks to Cheyenne McCray, Patti Duplantis and Rebecca Sterling for their valuable suggestions and critiques.

Chapter One Well fuck! Cheeks cradled between moist palms, Charlene Madison twisted her lips in frustration. Once again, it was Friday night in New Orleans and here she sat, alone. Instead of wrapped in the arms of a Cajun lover, she was elbow-deep in death. She released a disheartened breath. Sometimes it sucked being a private investigator. “Enough of the pity-party.” Charlee focused her nearly comatose gaze on the evidence lying before her on the weathered desk. Graphic pictures, a dozen or more taken at different angles, each image portrayed a common theme, the senseless death of a twenty-three-year-old woman. From among the heap of snapshots and documents, Charlee extracted a photograph of the same person. In this photograph she was a vibrant young woman with flaming red hair and full of life. “Pretty,” Charlee whispered as blue eyes smiled back from the picture. Beside the woman, a man with identical coloring and vivaciousness beamed down at her with a semblance of pride. Unlike Charlee’s two brothers who would be frowning down upon her if they knew she was submerged in a murder case. “Focus, Charlee,” she urged herself back to what she knew about the victim. George and Stacy Benton, brother and sister—twins. One cut down in the prime of her life, the other, Charlee’s client. Slowly, she fanned herself with the glossy photograph. Scanning the pile of evidence, her methodical mind attempted to place the facts in order. “Too many pieces are missing,” she muttered as another current of air brushed lightly over her face. With a swipe of her hand, she moved aside several slips of paper and fixed her gaze upon the disturbing lifelike snapshot of Stacy’s torn and mangled throat. “So much blood…” Charlee’s stomach churned. The knot that began to form inside her belly twisted, growing tighter, as if someone played a game of tug-a-war with her intestines. To cap off her distress, a burning sensation crept up her throat like an army of fire ants. Man, she’d never felt this way about a case. It was almost as if she could taste the sharp tang of copper. Smell the stench of evil. She felt angry tears swell as she tore her gaze away. Gone was her calm professional detachment. Between clenched teeth she sucked in a deep breath—held it—then slowly forced it through pursed lips. For the moment, she needed a diversion, something to ease the tension building, clear her mind so she could review the case objectively. She closed her eyes. When she opened them again she allowed her familiar

surroundings to materialize. A second-hand queen size waterbed, an age-old metal desk, and a mirrored-dresser swallowed up the ten by twelve bedroom draped in mauves and greens. Her humble flat was perched above the offices of Madison Private Investigations located in the French Quarter. An apartment she shared with a roommate to cover costs. Money. The single word slipped into her mind with disgust. It was the only thing in this case that made sense, since it didn’t appear the police were gung-ho in pursuing the influential man believed to be Stacy’s murderer. Well so much for a diversion. Charlee had witnessed the corruption of wealth. Hollywood, California, a city she had called home when her father was alive, was a great place to see the disparity between those with and those without financial means. As if monetary value could dictate a person’s worth. Power and money ruled the world, which unfortunately, George Benton had discovered. He knew who had murdered his sister. Hell, there was even a witness. But the prominent Jacque Montague’s alibi was ironclad. Ironclad? Or had money played a part in averting the local authorities search? Charlee let her suspicious nature take the lead. Numerous months of police investigation had resulted in nothing. That’s why Charlee had been hired, that and the fact she was cheap. A private detective could bend the rules where the police couldn’t or wouldn’t. Mr. Benton was eager to see his sister’s murderer brought to justice. “The answer has to be here.” Charlee flung the picture back on the desk and began to rummage through a stack of notes and interviews. “Charlee, are you ready?” Charlee heard her roommate’s voice before the flashy brunette sauntered into the room. Tension tightened the muscles in Charlee’s shoulders, neck and face. Her palms pressed against the top of the cool metal desk and slowly she pushed away. As the rickety chair slid back, she prepared herself for the inevitable onslaught. Hand before her mouth, Gloria’s puckered lips blew a long, steady breath on wet fingernails the same crimson hue of her dress. With a visible jolt, her feet came to a halt. From beneath sculptured brows, her glare darted from her nails to Charlee donned in a Kid Rock T-shirt and faded blue jeans. Not exactly how Gloria had expected Charlee to be dressed. Gloria released a weighted sigh of frustration. “Dammit, Charlee, not again. You said you’d go tonight. I have hot dates set up for both of us.” Charlee’s shoulders drooped. With her best sullen expression, she said, “Gloria…” It was a long, drawn out whine. Unbecoming, but a girl had to try. “No, Charlee!” Gloria propped her hands on her slender hips. “I swear, if you look between your legs you’ll find a condemned sign.” “Dust and cobwebs, too,” Charlee added with a deflated groan. How long had it been since she’d rode the pony, tamed the wild beast? If she had to ask the question, the answer was too long. Determination sparked in Gloria’s eyes, burning a hole in Charlee’s shirt, the one she picked up in New York during Kid Rock’s concert. “Well?” Man, did Gloria know how to apply the pressure. Not to mention she knew

Charlee well. Knew the hot buttons to push as Gloria worked on those nagging little needs and wants Charlee thought she had successfully pushed aside. Fidgeting, she vacillated between duty or something sexy and hard to ease the emptiness her new career created. Always one for theatrics, Gloria’s face softened. She cleared her throat before she quietly predicted, “I can see it now—your tombstone.” Brown eyes grew hazy as if she looked far away. A single hand waved a slow path before her. Her voice was a guise of calm. “Too busy,” she started, “no time I’m afraid, to enjoy life’s pleasures or even get laid. Now withered and gone, in the ground she’s stuck, when all she needed was a kiss, a hug and a really good fuck.” Oh my God, the woman was hysterical at times. When a giggle slipped from Charlee’s lips, Gloria’s sober expression broke, replaced by a cocky grin that once again said, “Well?” Charlee shook her head, trying to hide the smile aching to be released. “Okay, okay, give me thirty minutes.” She shoved her chair further backwards, took one last look at the carnage lying on her desk, and hesitated. Man, I should be working and not looking for the greatest lay of the century, even if I need it. “Ahem.” Gloria cleared her throat once again, followed by the steady tapping of a single high-heel shoe. Oh, the pressure of a date. Chagrined, Charlee gazed up at Gloria. Her roommate’s raised brow was all she needed to prompt her into action. Difficult as it was, she pushed the murder to the back of her mind and made for the closet. She paused before glancing over her shoulder to see if Gloria was still watching. Yup, watching. Smugly satisfied, Gloria flashed an ecstatic smile, pivoted, and without another word strolled from the room, closing the door behind her. “All right, what to wear?” Charlee began to thumb through an agglomeration of shirts, pants and dresses. Hangers scraped across wood as she muttered, “No—no—no—yesss…” The word of approval came out a sultry hiss. The short black dress beneath her palm would compliment her shoulder-length blonde hair, while the stretchy silk would cling to the package beneath. It was a small package, short and petite, but she’d never had any complaints from the opposite sex. And tonight she fully intended to not only please a member of that gender, but herself as well. “Let there be no doubt—” she clutched the slinky dress to her breasts and smiled knowingly, “—if I’m going out tonight, I am getting laid.” Her tone filled with conviction, she added, “Not some quickie, but the whole damn night. Fucked until I walk like a seventy-year-old cowboy.” The bowlegged vision in her head made her giggle. With each second that passed, her excitement increased. Tonight was for friends, fun…and hot unadulterated sex. Thank God she was on birth control. She always seemed to forget the condom. But there were other reasons for a condom. She’d have to remember to place a couple in her purse tonight. “Now something risqué…” The snappiness in her voice faded as her gaze lit

upon a simple white box high above on the shelf. Dress cradled in the crook of her arm, she perched on tiptoes, reaching. “Yesss,” she purred, her heels touching ground as she raised the lid and brushed the tissue aside. Inside were a black silk and lace bustier, sheer thigh-high nylons, and a wispy, translucent thong. Everything a woman needed to stage a successful seduction campaign. “If this doesn’t work I have my gun.” She chuckled. As the slinky material slipped through her fingers, anticipation flushed across her body, her nipples tingled, and that so-called condemned place between her legs tightened. She clenched her thighs together, rolling her hips to assuage the sudden ache, which only succeeded in making the throb deepen. God, she needed relief—she needed a man. “How pitiful am I?” Charlee groaned, scenting her own desire in the air. Heavy footsteps echoed her frustration as she moved to the bed, tossed the box and dress upon it, and quickly drew her T-shirt over her head. As the image of Kid Rock’s smiling face sailed through the air, she paused, her reflection flickering in the dresser-mirror. No bra, bare from the waist up, she stood quietly while the swirling air from the ceiling fan caressed her nakedness. The playful currents teased like little eddies dancing, raising a thin layer of goose bumps across her flesh. Her nipples immediately reacted, puckered, then jutted out seeking attention. Unconsciously, her hand rose and cupped a warm breast. A thumb and forefinger squeezed the bud gently as her other hand slid across her stomach. The heat of her skin felt good to the touch, sinfully inviting beneath her palm, stroking, caressing. The soft down across her skin rose, conduits for the electrical pulse thrumming through her body. The last thing Charlee wanted to do was to appear horny, or more accurately, love-starved. If she didn’t get relief soon, the police would be hauling her ass to jail for rape before the night was over. Now where is that vibrator? She gazed about the room. Again, she pinched her nipple, but this time harder. She gasped as stinging rays coursed through her breast and tugged unmercifully on the invisible strings attached to her sex. A rapid succession of tremors followed, coupled with a flood of moisture between her thighs that weakened her knees. Her body swayed. “Oh my God,” she droned breathlessly, lolling her head backward. Her breath was ragged, more pronounced. With each lungful of air her chest rose and fell. Her gaze followed the movements of her hands. How can my own hands make me feel so damn good? Charlee didn’t want to face the truth, but she had been neglecting her body, neglecting its needs. And she needed a man, desperately. Again, she wondered where she had last put that vibrator. But she was too far gone to stop and look for it. She needed relief and she needed it now. Slowly, she undid her jeans, fumbling with the zipper as she tugged one handed, while her other hand pulled and pinched a nipple. Damn. She needed both hands if she was ever going to get her pants down. Grabbing the waistband of her jeans in one hand, the zipper in the other, she tugged. The scrape of the metal separating and the cool air swirling around her aching

nipples caused her pussy to clench, sending a shiver up her spine. Without a second thought, she pushed her hand between her legs and stroked once— twice—over the material covering her swollen clit, before a lone finger slipped beyond the silk of her panties into her hot, moist pussy. Her breathing hitched as her head rose and she looked into the mirror. Heavy, dark eyes reflected, “Forbidden. Wicked.” Yet, it felt too fucking good to be bad and way too good to stop. A stranger stared back from the glass. But, a welcome stranger hell-bent on ensuring some semblance of pleasure was experienced right here, right now. Fascinated, she watched the natural undulation of her hips meet each thrust. Hand and finger seemed to move on their own accord, sliding in and out, seeking pleasure spots. Sensation was her guide—fulfillment her destination. Wet and slick, back and forth, blood filled her clit as it swelled into a pulsating ache. Her touch grew firmer, rolling a sensitive nipple between her fingers and wringing out the sexual frustration trapped within. She jerked her head back, lips parting on a sigh. Heaven… If she could teeter on this pinnacle forever, she’d die a happy woman. “Ahhh,” she moaned, her body starving for the climax that lingered just out of reach. Hips thrusting forward, a second finger joined the foray plunging deeper, faster. Knees slightly bent, thighs parting, she wavered on the edge. Her body tensed, but her fingers continued, in and out, harder, faster. Vaginal muscles contracted. She was almost there. “Yes—” The husky word tore from the depths of her throat as the telephone began to screech. Brrr-ring! Brrr-ring! The obnoxious noise jarred her, leaving her disoriented. For a moment, she could only stand there, taking quick shallow breaths, her body crying to the tune of unfulfillment. Damn. Damn. Damn. A quiver shook her from head to toes. “Charlee, it’s for you,” Gloria yelled through the closed door. Charlee’s head snapped into an upright position. Heart pounding, she dropped her hands to her side. Briefly, her eyes closed. She sought composure, fighting the turmoil churning inside. Another wet dream gone bad. Slowly, her eyelids rose. A heavy sigh released some of her disappointment as she straightened her panties, zipped her jeans, then looked around for her T-shirt. Crumpled on the floor Kid Rock’s smiling face seemed to smirk as if silently taking pleasure in her misery. Charlee stuck her tongue out. Childish? Yes. But who cared! She knelt and snatched up the shirt so fast it sprung back, slapping her in the face. She slipped the damn thing over her head. With short, angry movements she pushed her arms through the armholes then pulled the cotton down over sensitized breasts. “Ohhh…” She released a cry of discomfort as her nipples throbbed. Now instead of having taken the edge off her horniness, she was ready to drop the first man in sight and ride the stud all night long. “Who is it?” Charlee pinched the material lying between her breasts and inched it away from her heated skin. She hastened to the nightstand by the

bed and reached for a wet wipe. Several swipes between her palms and she tossed the wipe in a nearby trashcan, before she opened the door and peeked into the hall. Gloria shrugged, arched one artfully plucked brow and grinned. “A man.” She handed Charlee the cordless telephone. Curiosity had her roommate rooted to the floor. Charlee held her hand over the mouthpiece. “God, I hope it’s not Blake.” Blake Madison was Charlee’s eldest of two brothers, both detectives in California, who felt it necessary to interfere in her life on a regular basis. In fact, from time to time her brothers had several of New Orleans’ finest checking up on her. It was such fun to outsmart the men, ditching them on more than one occasion, like yesterday. They had followed her all around town until she darted into a store then watched them walk right past her. She shouldn’t expect their appearance for another week. They were so predictable. Her brothers would be satisfied with their report, because she gave them nothing of interest to convey. The thought that it was probably Charlee’s brother, instead of a hot prospect, didn’t interest Gloria. At least that’s how it appeared as she frowned. Then without another word, she turned and sauntered away. Charlee cast her eyes to the ceiling, preparing herself for Blake’s voice. “Hello.” Heavy breathing, then a muffled voice gasped, “Miss Madison?” Great. An obscene caller. Where were you when I needed you five minutes ago? Charlee’s next thought was to hang up. Instead, her anger rose at his invasion. “You’re too late, buster. I’m getting my jollies off in person.” The caller burst into a high-pitch wail that sounded vaguely like a hyena mating call. A disgusted breath left her mouth in a single huff. Before she drew the receiver from her ear the voice rasped, “You wanna know somethin’ about Stacy Benton?” Now the caller had her attention. Feet frozen in place, telephone pressed to her ear, Charlee’s pulse jumped to life. Thoughts spinning, she hardly recognized her voice as she squeaked, “Yes!” “Meet me at St. Louis Cemetery #1.” Cemetery? Charlee jerked the telephone in front of her and glared at the caller ID. “Unknown” flashed in the small window. “Damn. A blocked number,” she murmured beneath her breath before drawing the receiver back to her ear. She tugged her brows together and frowned. “Who is this?” “You can call me Joe.” His shrill voice sent a chill scampering across her arms. “Come alone or I ain’t gonna talk.” Could this be the break she was looking for? The rapid pitter-patter in her chest wasn’t the sound of little feet, but her heartbeat bursting with excitement. “When?” she asked. “Tonight, midnight. Fourth tomb to the left of that prayin’ kid statue.” Better judgment screamed that considering this meeting was insane. Charlee’s mind scattered in different directions while her teeth worried the

corner of her bottom lip. Damn. Damn. Damn. Should she throw caution to the wind and accept? Her muscle, Jack Black, was unavailable, out of town on another case in Lafayette. She would have to go alone. Definitely not a good idea, but the informant said he wouldn’t talk otherwise. “Hey, you comin’, lady?” he shrieked. Impetuously, she said, “Yes,” then flinched as the telephone screeched in her ear and went silent. Without hesitating, she hurried back to the desk in her room. She paused, and then glanced down at the snapshot of the redheaded woman smiling back at her. Charlee’s heart sank to her feet. “It’s so wrong,” she whispered, a knot of emotion forming in her throat. Her sullen gaze wandered over the stack of evidence. “What kind of animal did this to you?” Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she released the air trapped in her lungs then quickly sucked in another breath. “Okay,” she told herself. “You’re a professional. Don’t allow the victim’s death to become personal. “Now…” she looked to the open door that led out into the hall, “…how to break it to Gloria.”

Chapter Two Shadowed light cast by the dying fire blanketed the room. Within the next hour there would be no flames—no light, except for the subtle moonlight slipping through the French doors. But that’s how Devin Leduc liked his New Orleans home—dark. Besides, the night was his brethren and more importantly, kind to his sensitive eyes. Eyes that tonight felt heavy with worry. Damn, but his mind hurt. He pressed the cool brandy snifter to his lips and took a drink, then held the glass before him. Transfixed on the blaze reflecting through the golden liquid, he began to roll the stem between his thumb and forefinger, causing the alcohol to rage like an angry sea, a reflection of his inner turmoil. The deep chuckle that left his lips was filled with irony. These days his brother’s predicament was a constant reminder of his own vulnerability. He shifted his weight and moved his other hand across the armrest of the over-stuffed chair that cradled his six-foot-two frame. Blindly, he stared into the hearth, while his fingertips tapped a steady drone against the leather. Immortality and eternity were a farce. A gift or curse, he hadn’t made up his mind. Probably wouldn’t until he was burdened with the change his race faced if a mate wasn’t found. A change that meant death.

The fire started with a few sparks sputtering, flying into the air, then the embers in the stone fireplace began to glow. An eerie silence followed as the fire built in strength, drawing him like a beacon leading a lost sailor home. Angry coals flashed an orange-red. The renewed scent of burning wood filled the room. Life in the grate once again rekindled as if an unknown force begged his attention. Firelight danced across the room, illuminating the century old books lining the library walls. Dark images skittered across the sofa, wavering momentarily before continuing over the desk and sliding across the bar. Like the sound of escaping steam, a prolonged “ssss” surfaced from the flames. He leaned forward, staring into the light, and then pressed the glass again to his lips and let the amber liquid burned a path down his throat. Millie, his cherished housekeeper and friend, would call it self-destructive. Masochism. But tonight the alcohol he seldom drank was a comfort. He wasn’t a drinker. Hell, the stuff was potent to a vampire and only consumed when necessary to appear human. Even then it required purging before another was consumed. One drink to his kind had the effect of half a pint of Jack Daniels on the living. Yet tonight his objective was clear. The liquor was succeeding, muddling his senses with each sip. He was tired—too tired to think, to worry, or even consider the infernal future. Again, a hiss rose from the fireplace. Strange. No air circulated the room. Still, something stirred the coals and ignited sparks with sharp brittle pops that only served to set Devin further on edge. Was it a warning? He stared into the fire looking for the answer or a damn sign, anything that would tell him why the hairs on the back of his neck were standing straight up. In one gulp, he finished his drink and then gazed at the half-empty bottle of brandy sitting on the bar. Another? He shook his head. It was infuriating to know something was about to happen. But exactly what was anybody’s guess. No matter how much alcohol Devin drank neither his brother’s problems nor whatever else silently nagged him was going to leave him alone, not tonight. He hated these intuitions—just another gift his people possessed. You would think that if the Almighty was going to warn you, He’d at least give you a hint of what you were in for. Something was about to happen. It was a living entity within him. Was it a warning of something to come? Or had the latest news of his brother Damien’s dilemma affected him more than he realized? Or was it the alcohol? Consumed by his thoughts, Devin didn’t hear the door creak open, nor did he see the bulky shadow pass through. Light from the electrical fixture overhead flooded the room. Immediately the brightness blinded him and forced his eyelids shut. Shards of white lighting were like needles setting his eyes afire and causing them to water. “Ah, shit,” he groaned, rubbing a hand across his aching lids.

His outburst was countered with a sharp reprimand. “Devin, there is no cause for profanity.” Although the woman’s voice held censure, he could hear the warmth and concern in the heavy French accent. As he inched one eye open and then the other, he watched Millie’s hesitant approach. Critically, she raked him with disapproval etched in her plump face. Then she snatched the glass from his hand. With a steady shake of her finger mere inches from his nose, she scolded, “Enough of this brooding. The news, it is sad, but not hopeless. There is still time. Oui?” Her voice softened. The sharpness from her tone disappeared, as she continued, “You must have faith.” Faith? How many years—no, make that centuries—must one of his kind wait to unite with his salvation…the light to his darkness…a lifemate? Hell. His kind could rule the elements, call lightning down from the sky, or make the earth shake with their anger. But they couldn’t find that one person in their life to make them whole. Damien, his eldest brother, was close to losing the battle, close to becoming the vampire of old legends, like the ones in all those ridiculous black and white movies. His sibling’s fragile grip with reality wavered. The need to mate was strong. Sine qua non, a need essential to his very being. If left unfulfilled, it would push him over the edge of sanity. Devin’s own sanity felt tested. Pressure behind his eyelids built. Damn the fates. His fingers curled into fists. If Damien went mad, Devin would lose a brother and none of mankind would be safe until Damien was destroyed. A gentle hand lit upon his shoulder and squeezed. He gazed into hazel eyes filled with understanding. “Damien is strong, like you. He can fight the demon.” The gray-haired woman bent closer, the scent of rose water growing stronger as she lightly kissed his cheek. She spoke assuredly, but he felt her quiver before withdrawing. A dark shadow shimmered across her eyes. Buried beneath the gentle façade, fear was alive in Millicent Baudelaire. It was remnants of a nightmare she swore forgotten, but Devin knew that she was being untruthful to him…to herself. He studied Millie. Time had made its mark upon her once lovely face and figure, draining her of vitality and youth. A beauty when first he laid eyes upon her on that cobbled-stone street in Paris. Then with a snap of a finger, terror had stripped her of vitality and distorted it into fear and pain. Never would he forget the horror in her eyes. Devin looked at the massive scar, twisted and angry, that marred her neck. He raked his fingers through his shoulder-length hair. Felt his Adam’s apple dip, forcing down the emotion stuck in his throat. In his mind’s eye, he heard her screams, again. As if she could read his thoughts, Millie pulled the scarf around her neck up, covering the brand of violence. “You mustn’t think about the past. Your friend could not help himself.” Millie’s forgiving nature was always a surprise to Devin. Even as Manuel sank his incisors into her tender throat, she cried out asking for forgiveness, not only for herself as she confronted death, but for Manuel’s tortured soul. Devin had saved her that night, thankfully not converting her in the

process. Still, he lost a dear friend. He raised his hands in front of his eyes as if he expected to see Manuel’s blood covering them from that evening. “Now, up with you.” Millie grasped Devin by the arm and nudged him to his feet. “Lucius is in the billiards room. He wishes, as he puts it, ‘To beat the living daylights out of you.’ I do hope he is referring to the game and not physically.” She chuckled, her wide hips swaying as she skirted from the room. In Devin’s wary state of mind, his younger brother’s jovial camaraderie was the last thing he sought. His mood was dark, distant. An emptiness that needed to be quenched. Thoughts of long-legged Suzette surfaced. His cock stirred with memories of his last visit to his courtesan. The ebony-haired temptress, with large voluptuous breasts, could slake his fiery hunger and the needs of his aching body without any complications. She was a professional and his ability to erase or embed false memories would handle the rest. Devin settled back into the chair, the alcohol fogging his mind as he closed his eyes. Suzette knew how to pleasure a man. The things she could do with her body…her mouth. His breathing quickened as thoughts of what she had done to him during his last visit surfaced. The thought of her warm, tight mouth wrapped around his cock triggered a tremor of anticipation. Visions rose in his mind of her dark skin draped across red satin sheets, and her long hair feathered across the downy soft pillows. Slowly, his back arched. He could almost feel her red fingernails scraping his skin, feel her hot, wet core welcome him. Her soft moans and cries arousing him beyond limits. It felt so real as the image took shape, wrapping around him body and soul. Whimpering, Suzette squirmed beneath him. “Fuck me harder, deeper, Devin. Now, please, now.” Rising to his knees, he cupped her ass and jerked her hips off the bed, pulling them higher and higher. A squeal of surprise melted into a groan of sensual satisfaction urging her long, slender legs further apart and folding around his waist. Her exposed, swollen lips, glistening with desire, called to him as he stroked her breasts. He would take her, but only when her blood reached a boiling point, her body hot with arousal. That’s when her blood tasted the sweetest, melted on his tongue like warm chocolate. With a thrust of his hips, the head of his cock nudged slightly between her folds. She arched, attempting to impale herself on his cock but he withdrew, robbing her of what she needed, craved. “I need to feel you inside me.” Her voice was breathless. Her fingers flexed, reaching for him. He could smell her excitement as it thickened the air, could hear her passion surge through her veins like a raging flood and could feel her body’s hunger as she slid across his skin, pressing her moist heat against his engorged erection. With one powerful thrust, he drove between her parted thighs. A scream of ecstasy escaped her full lips. The inner muscles of her pussy clenched, sucking him deeper. The sounds of flesh pounding against flesh echoed in his ears as he carried her to the point where pleasure and pain meet. Only then did he sink his fangs into the beating pulse of her tender neck, feeding and climaxing simultaneously. Devin swallowed hard. His balls hardened painfully against his already tight

jeans. The ache took his breath away as his canines burst through bone and gum tissue, blood filling his mouth. By God, it was as if he could taste the honey warm copper of Suzette’s essence upon his lips and feel her satiny skin sliding against him. Dammit. The woman could sate his hunger and bodily needs, but when he left her there was always something missing. Not only Suzette, but with any woman. Like Damien, he needed to find that special one who could touch his heart and soul, fill his emptiness. The reminder was like a bucket of cold water to his groin. His body chilled, his erection dying a sudden death. His eyes snapped open. He sprang from the chair and hastened toward the French doors leading to the second story balcony that surrounded his home. With a mental command, the doors flung open and he stepped beyond them. A strong and sultry New Orleans’ breeze struck him in the face, briefly robbing him of breath. The sting felt good, invigorating, as he stepped further onto the mezzanine and gazed about. The city was alive, a throng of people seeking pleasure. Devin’s keen eyes scanned the night, watching the montage of partiers. They would see him only if he wished and tonight he did not. With mere a thought, he shielded his presence from human eyes. Then he reached out to the elements, drawing on their strength and power of change. He bent his knees, feeling their transformation followed by a tingle that caressed his body as feathers covered him. He pushed from the deck and leapt upwards, surging into the sky, wings emerging as he took flight.

Chapter Three The night was chilly for September. Charlee shivered and drew the collar of her black leather jacket up around her ears. A crescent moon partially hidden by a gathering of blue-gray clouds seemed to haunt the sky. She half-expected a witch to fly across it. “Spooky.” The laugh that followed was edged with a taut half-kidding, half-serious tone. She quickly pocketed her keys, feeling her cell phone beside them. Unconsciously, her fingers tightened around the grip of the pistol she held in her other hand. As if to confirm her wayward thoughts, a sudden flurry of air rattled the rusty sign above the gates that identified St. Louis Cemetery #1, near the corner of Basin and St. Louis streets. She cocked her head and for a moment listened to the mournful creak of the crest as old chains grinded against metal bars. The last time she was here it was with about twelve other people. Not to

mention there were a few more lights, even if they were flashlights. Like many others, Charlee had done the tourist thing when she arrived in New Orleans, the City of the Dead. Tonight, the title felt appropriate as the night smelled musty and ancient, just like a graveyard should. Filled with legend and history, a must-see was the famous tomb of the legendary Marie Laveau, the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans, located right in the very same cemetery Charlee was about to enter. Using all her weight, she pushed the two heavy wrought-iron gates. They separated, swinging freely even as their hinges moaned in protest. Midnight and an unlocked gate. Obviously, her informant had cut the lock. She’d almost forgotten the nightly graveyard tours had momentarily ceased due to restoration of several famous tombs, including Marie Laveau’s resting place. Pocketing her Glock, the pistol fitting snuggly in her jacket pocket, she drew the ends of the coat together and forced the zipper up. The raspy sound of the metal teeth merging mingled with a score of branches fighting in the oak trees above. Gravel crunched beneath her feet. Shit. She wasn’t sneaking up on anybody this way. Nevertheless, she continued to cautiously move deeper into the fog-shrouded necropolis. It’s so quiet. Charlee once again drew her collar up, closer around her ears. The chill she felt this time wasn’t from the weather. An uneasy laugh pushed through her lips. “As is expected of a place composed of no living entities,” she murmured aloud, feeling foolish and shocked at her sudden discomfort. As she passed between two catacombs, Charlee watched the wind tease the flames of a series of candles aligning a grave. It was an old one. For a moment, she wondered who lit the candles. The elderly tour-guide’s comments about the high water-table in New Orleans reminded her that now-a-days bodies were entombed above ground. A vision of the ground shaking, moving as coffins burst from beneath only fueled her nervousness. Get a grip. A gust of air ruffled her hair and she jerked her gaze around. Several candles flickered wildly and then extinguished, sending swirling ribbons of smoke toward the sky. For a moment, the smell of wax hung heavy in the air, and then vanished, whisked away by the breeze. A shiver raced up Charlee’s spine as she breathed in the acres of sun-bleached tombs. Weatherworn, paint chipping and flaking, added to the eeriness of the monuments. She remembered hearing the tradition was to whitewash the tombs on All Saint’s Day, November first. Now where did the memory come from? Her scalp prickled with foreboding. Whether it was from the cold or the numerous vaults filled with dead bodies, she wasn’t sure—didn’t care. It was damn spooky here. Like a dark shadow swallowing her up, the ominous air seemed to thicken in warning. Charlee wagged her hands, attempting to shake off the premonition before retrieving her gun. Approximately three pounds of reassurance, the metal was cool to the touch, but comfortable like an extension of her arm.

Keeping her head in constant motion, her gaze made quick sweeps of the layout. She lightened her footsteps as she walked down one narrow path and then through another aisle. A soft grating noise brought her to an abrupt halt. Head cocked, she listened. Scrape. Scrape. The scratching floated from behind a towering tombstone. She tensed. Blood rushed through her veins. Her heart pounded as she aimed her gun and cautiously stepped forward. A black cat sprang from behind the looming marble. Back arching, hair standing on end, the furry son of a bitch took several sharp sidesteps and hissed before disappearing behind another marker. Charlee startled, but her hand was steady, the gun pinned on the feline. “ Argh!” The shriek left her mouth followed by an uneasy giggle as she staggered backwards. The saying, “Beware of things that go bump in the night,” immediately came to mind. Then as a light sensation slithered across the fine hairs at the nape of her neck, Charlee’s laughter died. Once again, she went rigid, alert. God, but her imagination was having a field day. Focus. She chastised herself for being silly. Fourth tomb to the left of the statue of a child kneeling in prayer is your target. She couldn’t quite diminish the trepidation that had taken hold of her. The graveyard at night was a playground for crime. Charlee had known it before agreeing to meet hyena man, or Joe, as he had called himself. However, she was here and she was prepared. Fingers tensed around her Glock. It wasn’t the only gun she possessed tonight, nor was it her only weapon. She felt the rub of the small derringer strapped to her right leg and the straight blade to her left. Buried beneath her jacket was a switchblade. Feeling dauntless, she grinned. Her father would turn over in his grave if he could see her now. Grave. Death. Hell of a time to be thinking of Dad. She didn’ t need to be thinking of how he would hate her new occupation. Unfortunately, she had two brothers to constantly remind her. When the statue was in sight, Charlee began to count off the whitewashed mausoleums. One…two…three…fo— The vault door opened. The heavy stone scraped across concrete, screaming its objection to being disturbed. Adrenaline pumped through her veins like a steam engine on full-throttle. The informant had already arrived. A nervous twitch teased one of her eyelids. The scheduled meeting was standard modus operandi to glean information. One had to take precautions. What is wrong with me? came the question, followed by: What am I doing here? Only a slapstick private investigator in a cheap two-bit movie would meet an informant in a graveyard at night. Alone. Okay, she had screwed up, but why the hell was her informant inside the vault? Something wasn’t right.

Seconds before Charlee could retreat she sensed a presence behind her, heard the pounding footsteps approach. She spun on a heel and raised her gun. At the same moment, a shadow jumped from behind the statue. She felt a whack against her temple and instant pain sent a million stars exploding in her head. She stumbled and swayed. The ground tilted beneath her unsteady feet. Through cloudy eyes, she noted a short, hefty shape joined by a much taller figure. They were talking, but she couldn’t understand a word they said. Without warning her knees buckled, hitting the small patch of wet grass beneath her feet. With another thud, her body followed and her chin hit the ground. Sprawled facedown upon the dampness, she held tight to consciousness. She heard voices, muffled as if forced through a funnel. Cruel hands clutched her biceps and tugged. Her head waggled, the pain unbearable as her limp body was heaved over a sharp, bony shoulder. Then her attacker began to move. Every hurried step jarred Charlee and sent aftershocks through her body as she fought to stay awake. Her head hurt god-awfully. She felt like she was going to vomit. Suddenly she was free falling. Once more, a hard surface rose up to meet her. Again, pain splintered her head. Her stomach spun. Bile fought to crawl up her throat. Wood scraped against wood. She struggled to see what they were doing, where she was, but it was useless. Everything was a blur. The man’s voice above her was a murmur; even so she heard snatches of his words. “Nosy bitch… Montague… Out of the way.” Then her vision went black. The clink of metal sounded, then hammering, followed by a series of deep resonating thuds that echoed one after another atop whatever they had trapped her in. Her last memory was the peel of hyena laughter and the suffocating smell of dirt. When the first threads of awareness pushed past the haze swaddling her brain, Charlee groaned. The dull throb at her temples reminded her that she was officially an idiot. Yes, she was too stupid to live after walking into a graveyard—alone no less—in the middle of the freaking night. For a moment, she lay quietly in the inky blackness and willed calmness to surround her. The first step was to assess the situation. She was in a cemetery laying flat on her back. Encased in a confined space, there was little if no room to move. Darkness had a way of masking the obvious, but the truth remained. She’d been buried alive. A two-by-six plywood box buried beneath the moist soil of one of New Orleans’ oldest burial grounds was a coffin…her coffin. Wood and a vacuum of emptiness surrounded her. The heavy air and the menacing scent of dirt permeated her nostrils. Her fingertips traced the cool splintery surface above in search of a latch, something to free her. No hinges, no metal, only tight seams where wood met wood. The assholes had nailed the top closed.

“Someone is going to pay big time when I get out of here,” Charlee growled through clenched teeth. She was pissed. Damn pissed and ready to kick some serious ass. The thought that she wouldn’t survive this ordeal was inconceivable, one she simply refused to accept. It wasn’t time for her to die. Even though she was a small woman, it took great effort for her to bunch her knees to her chest. In a burst of outrage, she propelled her legs upwards and rammed her knees against the wood. Her thrust hit with a resonate thud. Fire, sharp and hot, shot through her head and knees. Wood creaked, but refused to give as powdery particles scattered across her face, hands and body. She shuddered and brushed frantically at the dirt that thickened the air, robbing her of precious oxygen, what was left… In a split second, anger morphed into panic. The pungent taste of raw terror filled her mouth. Fear clawed at her throat. “Oh, God.” Her pulse sprung into a rapid marathon. Desperately, she fought the helplessness seeping into her bones. The left side of her brain said to remain calm. The right side refused to listen as the image filled her head of her decaying body succumbing to water seeping into the coffin. And what about Blake and James, Gloria? Oh my God, they’ll never know what happened to me! It wasn’t like the old saying, her life didn’t flash before her eyes. It was more like a nothingness—lifeless—an emptiness that consumed her thoughts. From somewhere deep inside, a scream ripped from her throat. Tremors coursed her body. In a frantic attempt to escape, she scraped her fingernails across the wooden lid, digging deep as she ignored the burning sensation. Pulse steadily increasing, the vise in her chest tightened. Her heart swelled, threatening to explode. Through the horror consuming Charlee, she heard a deep, calming voice, almost hypnotic. “Shhh, petite guerrier. You will make yourself ill.” The voice was so soft, so gentle, she could feel the notes begin to soothe her mind like a melody. “Help me!” she cried before realizing no one could hear her. No one could save her. Either her mind had snapped, or the Grim Reaper or perhaps Death’s Angel had arrived. Sure that madness was beating down her door, in a last ditch effort of defiance, she yelled, “Fuck this! Heaven or Hell? Which is it gonna be?” A light chuckle filled her head. “Neither, petite guerrier.” His words were like a lover’s caress, stroking, attempting to ease her fear. “Try to relax. It will be but a moment.” Relax! Entombed in a pine-box, God only knew how deep beneath the surface, and her angel says, “relax.” “I am no angel.” Charlee heard the truth in his tone. She also realized with a start that the owner of that voice had just read her mind. Whatever lingering hope she had that her rescuer was human evaporated in an instant. “Then Hell it will be. But…I won’t go easily,” she promised, steeling herself for an encounter with the devil. She wasn’t going anywhere without a fight. As a large winged bird, Devin soared high in the sky, a dark stain against

the milky moon. His wings rose and fell in a smooth cadence. On an upstroke, downy feathers twisted open to allow air to pass through. Like dancing fingers the currents caressed him. His movements were graceful, fluid. Then a disturbance in the air rippled across his body. Caught unaware, he plunged into a sudden, sharp drop. The dip in elevation was enough to sober him. Righting himself, his night vision searched the sky, then the ground, seeking the disturbance. He was alone. Still, there was something out there, something in the air. His sharp beak rose. He inhaled. A woman’s scent called to him as no other ever had. The heady aroma filled his lungs, made him drunk with euphoria, again almost knocking him out of the heavens. As he circled the ancient cemetery, his skin began to prickle with excitement. Every nerve ending felt bare, exposed, coming to life. Then a wave of apprehension violently shook him. Chaos so potent he had to reach out, had to touch the woman’s mind. What he found chilled him to the bones. She was buried alive—six feet under. He felt her anger rise. Trapped below the earth, her strength built as she fought the panic edging its way inside her mind. Stubbornly, she refused to believe the obvious. In a fit of rage, she struck back. But fear shattered her courage. He sensed her pain and smelled her terror as if it were his own. As Devin touched ground, he changed into human form. With his mind, he spoke to her. His gentle words only seemed to increase her discomfort. From beneath her grave, she cursed a challenge, ready to fight him. In her confusion, she thought him the devil. Perhaps he was. Devin had no doubts the woman would not go easily once she met her maker. But he was determined she would not have that meeting tonight, nor for a very long time. A smile touched his lips. Never had he met a human—a female at that— headstrong and brave, one who even taunted death. Most individuals would have crumbled long before now, but not his petite guerrier, not his little warrior. The connection between them was there, alive. He had found his mate. Gently he waved a hand over the fresh mound of dirt. The ground trembled. Then, as if a cap of dynamite detonated, earth spewed the surroundings and revealed the crudely made coffin. Carefully he levitated the box, bringing it to rest at his feet, beside the open grave. She had grown quiet. Too quiet. Anger simmered below his skin, his blood a slow burn, as he realized the truth—someone had marked his mate for death. His woman. The other half of his soul. The knowledge released molten fury through his veins. His heated glare was enough to burst the coffin lid into shards of splintering wood, tossing it aside and revealing her. Then his glance shifted to the contents of the pine-box and his rage evaporated on the night breeze.

Devin barely caught the breath her beauty stole. Even in her disheveled state, she was amazing. She lay motionless. He sensed she had slipped from consciousness into a fitful sleep, evident by the frown that hardened her luscious full lips and creased her forehead. A stream of drying blood formed at her temple, tracing a path down high, defined cheekbones. The rich, red serum beckoned him. A prickle of anticipation appeared first. Then bittersweet pain as his incisors burst into his mouth, the taste of his own blood on his tongue. His cock tightened unexpectedly. Not with a mild physical attraction, but a savage, demanding, relentless ache. He thought of her soft skin, how it would feel beneath his palm, beneath his heated body. Not yet. He silently calmed the beast within. Now was not the time, nor place. Gently, his tongue caressed the protruding fangs, encouraging them to retract. She was the vision of beauty. Short blonde hair feathered alongside a slender neck. A firm chin he knew would be the image of stubbornness. Beneath her delicate skin, a pulsing blue vein sang to him. Again, he fought down hunger and desire. Before he could enjoy her soft curves, her mouth opened on a gasp. Her breasts rose as she pulled in a hungry breath, quickly followed by the explosive opening of her eyelids. Wild eyes, red-rimmed and bluer than the deepest sapphires met his. She took one hard look at him before she scrambled from the pine-box, fists swinging. “You son of a bitch!” Like a demon, she flung herself against him. For a small woman, not more than five-two, she was strong and clearly trained in defense. She knew where to land a punch, he realized too late as he took a hefty undercut to the mid-section. “Calm yourself, ma petite guerrier.” Devin embraced her, pinning her close. One hand secured her head as she attempted to bite him, while his other held her small body close to his. A smile tipped the corners of his mouth. He would have those teeth sinking into him, but not like this. The momentum of her kicks and punches weakened. But she continued to struggle, animalistic noises escaping her lips. His heightened sense of smell detected the anger and fear seeping from her pores. Her pain was sharp, so acute he could not ignore it. His mate had been to hell and back. She teetered on the edge of madness, in need of a release to purge insanity. For her it was a physical need. “Let it go, petite guerrier.” He buried his nose into her hair and inhaled the soft scent of woman. The firmness of her breasts against his chest, her body pressed to his, made Devin ache to touch and taste her. “Bastard,” she wheezed, jerking her leg up to bring a knee to his groin. Thankfully, he evaded the collision, pulling her closer to disarm her. “Ah, my sweet angel.” Devin continued to murmur soft endearments while withstanding her assault. She was tough and fought valiantly, but finally she released a defeated groan. Stamina spent, she fell limp in his arms. He stroked her back, slowly rocking her. The sweetest whimper pushed from her dry lips.

Gently he cradled her against his chest. She felt small, fragile. Yet, he knew she had an ironclad will and constitution. No doubt once her sensibilities were restored, she would be beyond irate and out for vengeance. Tentatively, he touched her mind. Confusion reigned. Jumbled thoughts ran rampant. “Can’t breathe! Dead—alive? Heaven—Hell? Devil—savior? Fight —surrender? Tired, so tired. W-where’s…m-my…g-gun?” The last thought made him laugh aloud. “You are alive, ma cherie. And you are safe with me.” He couldn’t resist pressing his lips to her clammy forehead. “Now sleep, little one.” Devin wove the command through the intricate web of her subconscious. Her body tensed and her eyelids fluttered, struggling against his demand. A silent string of “nooo’s!” strummed through her tattered mind. “Sleep.” He mentally pushed harder against her wall of defenses. Defenses he found surprisingly strong for a human. In her weakened state, she finally slipped into a deep slumber. Devin hated to release her, but he did, setting her sleeping form on the ground as he prepared to shape-shift. Spreading his arms out wide, head tilted to the sky, he called upon the elements. A subtle breeze stirred the fallen leaves as it sifted through his shoulder-length hair. The air around him shimmered as his legs and feet morphed into strong, powerful talons. A flutter of blue-black feathers formed wings. Then a wicked beak took shape. Sharp golden eyes finished the transformation. With ease, the magnificent bird lifted the resting woman in his talons and lunged toward the heavens, blending into the blackness and becoming one with the night.

Chapter Four In a dreamlike state, Charlee felt warmth embrace her. Vise-like grips held her tight, but not cruelly. All pain in her body had vanished, replaced by the sense of floating—no flying—through a weightless realm. The steady rush of wind teased her ears as she felt it stir around her. Yet, the sound that intrigued her the most was the heartbeat that matched hers in perfect rhythm. Wait. Did the devil have a heart? Or, for that matter, any other celestial being or demon—or dead woman? An attempt to open her eyes failed as if glue held them shut. She gave the commands for her arms to raise, her legs to move, both with no success. Helpless and paralyzed, she was trapped within her body. The only thing that seemed to work was her mind, and she had serious doubts about that since she was dead and who-knows-what was sweeping her away to who-knew-where. A sudden jolt startled her. Gone was the rush of wind, gone was the

weightlessness. They had stopped, landed, or whatever was happening. The iron manacles around her waist disappeared, replaced by strong arms that lifted and cradled her, almost tenderly, to a firm mass of muscle. The faint scent of a man’s cologne, woodsy and earthy, embraced her. The warm, virile aroma filled her senses. Damn, if this creature was the devil, he certainly smelled heavenly. Perhaps, if she ever gained control of her body, they could have a helluva good time. I’m dead, she remembered. Romantic thoughts were way out-of-line and a sure guarantee to lead her to the gates of fire and brimstone, instead of heaven. Yeah, but what a way to go. Still, there was something about not being able to see or move that heightened her other senses, adding a sensual aspect to the mix. Fear and excitement, two emotions running parallel in a race and then coming together to unite. She felt herself laid gently upon a pillow of softness. Charlee couldn’t wait to see what came next, and then those strong arms released her. The absence of the being’s touch left her bereaved. When his hands returned, they began to tug at her clothing. Okay. It was one thing to fantasize over being taken while you were helpless. The actuality of it sent her into a panic. Silently, she screamed, “No!” while her traitorous body gave no resistance. Leaden arms slipped from her jacket with ease. Warm hands grazed her ribcage and softly slipped across her breasts as she felt her shirt removed. Damn! Damn! Double damn! Of all the days not to wear a bra. Then to make it worse, she felt her nipples bead into taut peaks. No control of her body and now her nipples decided to react on their own accord. What was wrong with her? It was a wonder her useless body didn’t arch into him and beg him to take her nipple into his mouth. But when her pussy began to ache so badly that moisture seeped between her thighs, her humiliation soared. A sharp intake of breath and a husky moan revealed her captor’s appreciation. “You are perfection.” His sexy voice so close she felt his warm breath brush across her heated skin. Then silence lingered. Charlee wanted to scream her frustration. Move, damn you, she demanded of her legs. She remained in her comatose state, eyes refusing to open Oh! She mentally startled as his hands returned and made quick work of removing her tennis shoes and then her jeans. To her dismay, it wouldn’t be long before he realized her heightened arousal. Man, she wanted to die with embarrassment. Oh yeah, I’m already dead. What had she done wrong in her lifetime to cause her spirit not to pass on? Wasn’t that what a soul was supposed to do? She thought about her brothers. Would they miss her? Suddenly swamped with emotion, she choked back silent tears. She didn’t want to be dead. She wanted to live, to love, even to have her brothers annoy her one more time. God she loved them, even when they were trying to run her life. They meant the world to her, she—

A string of curses brought her out of her self-absorbed thoughts. The being was muttering something about the knife and gun strapped to her legs. Deft fingers released the arsenal. After a tense moment, she heard him chuckle. “What am I to do with you, petite guerrier?” Let me go. But when his fingers slipped beneath the band of her panties, drawing them slowly down her legs, she corrected, No, fuck me all night long. Man, she was confused. Her feelings switched off and on like a light switch. Good thing he couldn’t read her thoughts. Or could he? He had in the cemetery. Panties removed, she waited for his next move, his next touch. Once more, silence, until she heard a deep intake of breath. “Mmmm, the scent of your musk draws me like a bee to honey. What I would give to part your petals and taste your sweetness.” Then part my thighs and eat away, big boy, her mind encouraged. She sighed inwardly as his hand caressed the inside of her thigh, moving higher, closer to that part of her weeping with desire. When he stopped short of her sex and removed his hand, she released a silent scream of frustration. This was surely hell. It had to be. No one could endure this much torment and not go mad. Once more, she attempted to open her eyes and move her limbs with no success. Oh, my! She startled, again, as a warm, wet washcloth moved tenderly across her face, down her neck, her arms, and finally settled at her chest. He was giving her a bath. Or, was he preparing her body for burial like they did in times past? The Irish did that, didn’t they? A deep groan brought her attention back to the washcloth making circles around one breast and then the other. Now, if she could only will him to pay as much attention to her pussy, being dead just might be worth the cost. Instead, he quickly moved to her legs and feet. Her fingers were dipped into something wet, warm. Then a soft, silky sheet covered her body up to her neck. Tender, warm lips touched hers. “Sleep, ma cherie,” he whispered. His footsteps grew faint as he moved away. A creak of a door sounded and then silence. The angel of death was gone. An outlined shadow moved down the dimly lit hallway. Keen eyesight allowed Devin to see Millie’s eyes narrow, her fleshy face stern with disapproval as she hurried toward him. “Devin Leduc!” She worried obsessively over him. Now he would pay the piper. Millie kept tabs on him and his brother like a drill sergeant. Annoying, but most of the time it was wonderful knowing someone cared. “Where have you been?” Hands buried deep into rounded hips, she tapped her foot impatiently. “Well?” “Shhh…” he countered, pointing to the door where his mate rested. Millie frowned, pushed past him and peeked into the room. Her hands flew to her chest, her face soft with concern. “Mon dieu! She is hurt.” Her motherly form bustled toward the bed. Gently, she probed the sleeping woman’s head wound. “Ouch!” The expression of pain from the female abed startled Devin as he stood just beyond the door, watching. When her eyes popped opened then

closed again, he staggered back into the shadows. “I can move.” Her whisper of surprise matched his. She had broken through his mental command. How long had she been conscious? Any other time, performing frequent mind-scans ensuring compliance was second nature. Finding her had shaken him, thrown him off guard. It took all he had to block her discovery from his two brothers. Damien was too close to the change. He quickly performed a mind scan on her. She was a private investigator working on a case that hit too close to home. She was looking for a rogue vampire and didn’t realize it. He saw the photographs of the victim’s torn throat. Nothing could have done that much damage except a vampire. Devin also discovered his mate’s name was Charlene Madison. Before he rested for the night, he would scan her memories, her dreams. He would know everything about her. “Are you trying to kill me?” Agitated, Charlene swatted at Millie’s hand. “No, mademoiselle, but it appears someone has.” As Millie settled upon the bed, she cast a frown over her shoulder in Devin’s direction. He raised his hands, palms up, and shrugged innocently as if to say not me. “Do not take that guiltless stance with me, boy. What has happened to this child?” Millie sympathetically patted Charlene’s hand, careful of her tattered fingernails. “I was smacked against the head, buried beneath a ton of dirt, and saved by the devil.” Her response was weak but held attitude. She still thinks me the devil. Devin almost laughed, until he saw the effort it took her to inch an eye open, one and then the other. She tried to focus on Millie. Blinked several times, lightly shook her head, and then blinked again. She had yet to notice his presence. Wide-eyed, Millie pressed a palm to her mouth in disbelief. “Ce ne peut pas être vrai!” “Well, you better believe it.” Devin was shocked by Charlee’s response. Clearly, she knew French, as she translated Millie’s words of disbelief. “How did I get here?” She attempted to rise. “Non, mademoiselle. You must lie abed until you are well. Mon dieu! Look at your poor fingers,” Millie said. The tips were scraped raw, her fingernails a jagged mess. Anger flared anew in Devin. She had clawed at the lid of her coffin. “No way. I’ve got to get back to work—unless I am dead. Am I dead?” No laughter came from Millie, just quiet understanding. “No, my child. You are not dead. But someone in the room might be after I get through with him.” Devin had the good sense to cringe. His mate’s shoulders rose from the bed, and she wavered as the sheet slipped, exposing her lovely breasts. “I need to get out of here. Find the bastards that did this to me. Have you seen the devil?” She swayed again, as if her mind and body disagreed on the course to take. In the end, her body won. With a fleeting moan, she slithered back upon the pillows. Like a mother hen clucking over her chick, Millie quickly drew the sheet up to Charlene’s neck, flashed Devin a you’re-in-big-trouble glance, and then she rose. “Tsk, tsk, rest, little one. I will come back later and stitch your head

wound. Your name, child?” Heavy-lidded, Charlene whispered, “Charlee…” before unconsciousness took over. “Charlee! Now what kind of a name is that for one so beautiful? I shall call you Charlene.” Millie’s judicious gaze searched Devin’s face, making him feel like he stood before her naked, soul bared. “She is the one, oui?” She raised an inquisitive brow. He tapped down the smile hiding behind a noncommittal expression. He should have known Millie would guess. Or, perhaps it was the fact he had never brought a woman home. His parents raised him to believe a man’s home, especially his bed, was reserved for the mistress of the house, his lifemate. Millie didn’t push for a definite answer and he appreciated that trait in her. “You will have your hands full. This one is not meek. She already thinks you the devil.” Millie cackled softly. “And she is correct. Dawn beckons, Devin, you must go aground.” He paused, breathing in the loveliness of the woman asleep on the bed. She moaned and shifted restlessly. Would she moan like that lying beneath him, writhing, begging him to take her? Would she scream with ecstasy as his cock entered her? His mind filled with erotic images of her naked, her nipples taut and her fluid slick between her thighs. He pictured her arms outstretched, welcoming him as not only a lover, but also a mate for life. Visions of feasting on her blood, her woman’s flesh, nearly drove him to climax. His breath caught in his throat. His testicles swelled with painful anticipation. His eyelids drifted closed. What would her pussy taste like? A hand on his elbow shattered his fantasy. In one big puff of smoke, his ecstasy dissolved like mist on the breeze. He barely had time to hold back the groan of disappointment. Millie gave his elbow a reassuring shake. “You needn’t worry. I will take care of her until you rise.” Ah, but how was he to find peace this day knowing his lifemate lie above him instead of beneath him? The taste of her lips lingered on his. Her womanly scent surrounded him, driving him to distraction. Wistfully, he wondered what her delicate hands would feel like when they stroked him, learning his body as he would learn hers. “She will fight you,” he said confidently. His mate was an intelligent, headstrong, and passionate woman. “I will send her into a deep healing sleep, but I make no promises. She has already broken through one of my commands. And she will need clothing and incidentals,” he added. “First of many commands I am sure.” The insolent woman grinned. “I will take care of her needs.” Then Millie turned to leave, a trail of knowing laughter following her. Reluctantly, Devin descended the stairs leading deep into the bowels of his sanctuary. With each step, the air grew cool and moist. The rich, earthy smell welcomed him, serving to quell the tension and excitement the day had brought. Briefly, he paused to listen to the flow of the underground spring

bubbling up from deep within the cavern. Soft candlelight flickered across the glassy surface. He yearned to share all this and more with Charlene. Then he frowned, the moment of reverence vanished. How was he going to protect his obstinate mate, not only from those who sought to harm her, but from herself? The trials of the day would surely leave aftereffects, negative aftereffects that would make accepting her fate more difficult. Once she discovered his, should he say, differences from other men would she go stark raving mad or run willingly into his arms and into his world of darkness?

Chapter Five Charlee woke with a gasp, her fingers clawing at her throat. Air…she needed air. She sat up abruptly. Her mouth gaped wide, her eyes growing enormous. Chest heavy, she choked as she tried to inhale. Not enough. She desperately pulled another breath and then another. Shallow, hungry swallows that refused to penetrate her frozen lungs. The results were an uncontrollable coughing fit and wrenching panic that gurgled in the pit of her stomach. Where was she? Charlee’s head snapped up, frantically scouring the room. A strange bedroom…not a coffin… The realization should have brought comfort. Still her heart raced. Sweat beaded her forehead. Each time she grasped for control, it slipped through her fingers like running water—impossible to hold. She had never been afraid of the dark, but she needed light. The radiance coming from the fireplace was not enough. As if she willed it, the room instantly bathed in light, not harsh and bright, but a soft glow. When the large room began to spin and the walls moved, logically, she knew it was impossible. Terrified, she jumped from the bed and made for the center of the room, then stood trembling. “What’s happening to me?” She heard the words leave her mouth. But the scared, insecure voice was all wrong, not her own. “Shhh, petite guerrier. It is nothing more than a panic-attack,” came the warm, soothing voice that had spoken once before in her time of need. “Pace your breathing. Inhale slowly, deeply. Your heart is beating too fast.” Charlee spun around in a circle. “Who are you? Where are you?” She staggered, feeling faint, the lack of oxygen taking its toll. She was going to be sick. She bent at the waist and prayed for some semblance of control. “First, your breathing, then we talk.” Her head bobbed up, eyes agape. “You’re a figment of my imagination!” she screeched. In one frantic leap, she lunged for the door, twisting and pulling at the knob. Gut wrenching sobs tore from the back of her throat.

Locked! She was a prisoner. She had traded a coffin for a bedroom, elegant in its furnishings, but she was still confined. Helplessness surged through her, taking her under as if she were drowning in a pool of nothingness. “Charlene! Desist!” The clear, sharp command, given by a being used to instant obedience, thundered through her mind. She stilled and obeyed, not understanding why. Bewildered, she shivered as a cool breeze brushed her spine. She could feel his presence, sense his frustration, as she readied herself to confront him—the devil. But was he? He had rescued her, spoken comforting words. When warm, invisible fingers stroked her cheek, she gasped, distracted from her mental struggle. The feather-soft touch trailed a path down her neck and paused at the throbbing vein in her throat. Hunger—desire—unbridled need flashed in her mind. As quickly as the emotions appeared, they vanished, and the light sensation continued, urging her compliance. Charlee felt the compulsion to obey and stumbled back toward the bed. “Stop!” she screamed as her legs voluntarily did his bidding. “Then do as you are told,” the voice snapped, patience gone. “I will not allow you to harm yourself. Now, dammit, Charlene, breathe! I am too far away from the house to come to you.” Her breath wheezed in her lungs as she sucked in air. Charlee flinched when he firmly said, “Slower…deeper.” Now the disembodied voice was making her mad. Nevertheless, she complied with slow, deep inhales followed by long exhales. They repeated the process several times until her breathing became normal and her pulse gradually leveled out. His presence was all around her, within her, as if he controlled her breathing, steady and even, matching their heartbeats. An intimate sensation that made her tremble with awareness. “Good.” His approval hummed in her head. “Now, ma cherie, a bath awaits you in the adjoining bathroom. Millie has placed one of my shirts on the sink for you to wear. When you are through with your ministrations, I shall join you and we will dine.” Holding on to her sensibilities by a mere strand, Charlee thought to refuse. A sharp retort stood perched on her tongue. Unsure of the situation, she decided it might be wiser to play along with the disembodied voice that promised to add a body to its existence. Again, that irritating, all-knowing chuckle filled her head. “Oh, shut up, you—you…ghost!” she spat. No response. Good. The damn being was gone. Ghost? Yeah, sure, she didn’t believe in ghosts. She also didn’t believe in chance meetings, like the man who just happened to be strolling through a cemetery after midnight and graciously rescued a damsel in distress, buried six feet under. And what was up with the controlling mind games he insisted on playing with her? She was a logical woman. There was a valid explanation for him traipsing through her head. She’d read about individuals who came into psychic powers

after a near-death experience. “Being buried alive is as close to death as one could get without biting the big one,” she rationalized. “Maybe there’s more to this near-death thing than what meets the eye.” Deep, full-body laughter permeated her head. Hands on hips, she growled, “Eavesdropping is rude. Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?” “She did the best she could. Millie has taken over the daunting task since I left home.” His boyish response was issued lightheartedly. Charlee snorted. “She’s failing, too.” Again, she felt his touch gentle against her face. “Stop doing that!” She fought the stirring emotion that surfaced and swatted the air. How could she be attracted to a voice, a fleeting touch that wasn’t real? “I’m very real, little one. Flesh and blood.” His throaty growl hinted of danger and seduction. Once, again her pulse leaped to life, but this time not from fear. “Now go. Relax and enjoy your bath. The night is young and I wish to share it with you.” In disbelief, she shook her head, wondering if Alice felt like this when she tumbled down the rabbit hole in that old childhood fairytale. As Charlee moved toward the bathroom, she glanced through the partial opening in the curtains that draped the French doors and looked into the darkness. She had slept the entire day away. What awaited her in the bathroom was indeed heaven. The scent of jasmine wafted from the numerous glowing candles spread throughout, providing soft light and an undeniable romantic atmosphere. A tub the size of a small Jacuzzi brimmed with bubbles. Along the marble countertop sat a bottle of champagne and a flute already filled with the golden liquid. Charlee shimmied out of her nightgown. The satin material slipped easily through her fingers and onto the wooden floor. Her eyes flared with surprise to see the nightgown—not her nightgown—puddle at her feet. And just when did someone dress her? Her eyes widened more. She was naked beneath. She tried to recall what happened. Obviously, she wasn’t dead. But nothing was making sense, especially the part about the voice in her head. Quickly, Charlee scanned the bathroom. Where were her clothes? More importantly, where were her weapons? As she pivoted, her reflection materialized in the foggy mirror. Her hand swiped a long strip across the glass. Lord, if she didn’t look like death warmed over. Mascara smeared beneath both swollen eyes made her look like Rocky—not Sylvester Stallone the boxer and movie star—but Rocky the raccoon. The bump just above her right temple was the size of a golf ball that looked like Genghis Khan had taken a swing. A myriad of colors, black, blue and purple embraced it. There was a spider web of stitches where someone, presumably the little gray-haired lady known as Millie, had closed the wound and dressed her. When? Where? How? Whoever these people were, they must have drugged her. When Charlee looked at her battered fingers, she cringed. “Another damn manicure down the drain.” Not to mention her fingers burned and hurt like

hell. In less than twenty-four hours, she’d been attacked, buried alive, saved, and imprisoned by a voice. If this was someone’s idea of a joke, it wasn’t funny. When she reached the tub, she swirled her fingers in the water. The water was perfect, but the sting in her fingers made her jerk her hand back. Well, she might as well get this over with. Fact was, a soothing bath sounded delicious. She crawled over the edge and stepped into its luxury. Sinking further into the warm water, she felt bottled up tension leave like a southbound train heading out of town. That wimp of a scared girl was losing her grasp. Charlee was finally beginning to feel more like—Charlee—the confident, self-assured woman that she was. She released a deep sigh. As her shoulders disappeared among the bubbles, she agreed to enjoy these precious minutes of pleasure, then— “I’ll drag every inch of the Mississippi and all of New Orleans for the two slime-balls who buried me alive.” Soon, cooling temperatures and shriveling toes forced Charlee out of the water. She took one look at a man’s pristine white shirt lying on the sink, shrugged and murmured, “What the hell.” Expensive silk slithered over her head as she slipped into the shirt. An intoxicating masculine scent stroked her senses as she pushed her arms through sleeves that swallowed her arms. There was something sinful in the way the material teased her breasts. Like gentle fingers in constant motion, the cloth felt alive as it moved across her waist and hips, coming to rest midway at her calves. She shuddered, hoping it was, indeed, the material and not that egotistical ghost. No, not a ghost. He said he was flesh and blood. As she rolled the sleeves up, she looked at her hands and wondered if the man that belonged to the sexy, domineering voice and this infinitely large shirt was a big man. The wicked thought put a smile on her face as she entered the bedroom. Not to mention the image made her nipples draw tight with anticipation. After retrieving a brush from the dresser, she pushed back the curtains and opened the French doors, walking barefooted onto the balcony. With one stroke and then another, she drew the brush through her damp hair while she breathed in the sights and sounds of the city. A myriad of colorful lights twinkled against the velvet soft sky. From the streets rose the rhythm of jazz, a lively combination of trumpet, trombone, clarinet, and saxophone. The aroma of hot, spicy Cajun cooking and laughter filled the air. New Orleans is alive…and so am I. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to God and the devil or ghost that saved her from a death too horrible to imagine. The memory made her tremble as she moved back into the room. She walked to the dresser and placed the brush back where she found it. “Charlene.” The deep, seductive voice she had come to recognize caressed her ears like a bow to a violin. A shiver ran up her spine. He was here. Behind her. The man who had saved her life and—let her not forget—now imprisoned

her was actually in the room with her. For a moment, she struggled with whether to greet him as her savior or her captor and enemy. Tension bunched in her shoulders, preparing herself for the worst. She turned and gasped. What filled her vision was indeed the devil. Not the two-horned hell and brimstone kind, but the kind of man mothers warned their daughters about. Ebony hair shadowed the face of an angel, a fallen angel. He was tall and dark, a collection of honed strength and authority wrapped in black clothing. Trendy, but refined, classic. His jeans tightly caressed and held the power of long, muscular legs, drawing attention to his vitality. Black silk that outlined the wide breath of his chest made her mind reel. His speech was Old World elegance. He reeked of money, old money, the kind passed down through the centuries. If the room’s size and furnishings didn’t attest to the fact, the large gold ring and heavy-chained necklace he wore did. As she openly scrutinized him, a mischievous grin curved his sensuous mouth. Arrogant—the man knew he looked like sex on a stick—good enough to lick —good enough to eat. Still, it was his liquid gold eyes filled with warm laughter that captivated—bewitched her. She was tongue-tied. All the venom she’d stored up to strike out at him was slowly dwindling. Like his voice, his eyes soothed, caressed, and made her forget she was his prisoner. If she weren’t a rational woman, she would have thought magic was real. That he’d cast a spell on her. Instead, logic finally prevailed. What drug had he used to control her? He was a stranger—stranger danger—wasn’t that what the police taught? He had saved her, but for what reason? Nothing came without a price. Why had he been in the cemetery? Charlee’s mind splintered into multiple directions. The barrage of memories and fears triggered a thousand needles to shoot through her head. The sudden pain forced her to wrap her arms around her belly and she doubled over. It hurt to think, hurt to breathe. Devin caught Charlene as her knees buckled. The concussion and the events of the previous night were obviously too much. He sensed her anguish. Knew she struggled with what had happened to her last night. At least he could ease her physical sufferings. Cradling her in his arms, he sat in an armless chair next to the hearth and held her close as she fought the pain. The low, agonizing mewling sounds escaping her lips tore at his heart. Damn if the woman wasn’t already getting beneath his skin. He couldn’t bear her distress. Gently, he touched her mind, sending his energy into a large mass that entered her body, looking for the traumatized membrane. Thankfully, the hardheaded woman’s skull wasn’t cracked. No signs of a hematoma. Like a wisp of smoke, he weaved around the gray mass of nerve tissue until he found the bruised and swollen injury on the right side of her cerebrum. Without delay, he used his magic to relieve the pressure, working with energy and light to speed up the healing process. Energy came in all types of resources like natural elements, sunlight and heat. The mind only needed to call upon them to

extract their properties and strength, and then focus it inwardly. While inside her body, he chanted the curative words of restoration. There was wealth in the elements that humans ignored. Not so with his kind. They cherished the gifts the earth offered. Exhausted, but satisfied she would not experience any more outbursts of pain, he pulled from her mind. Awake, but somewhat drowsy, she muttered, “How do you do that?” “How do I do what?” Devin asked, his fingers slipping through her damp hair. It was cool to the touch as he twirled a lock around his index finger and then brought it to his lips. He settled back, content with the cozy setting and the sexy woman in his arms. “How is it that you talk to me without words, touch me without hands?” Puzzled blue eyes gazed up at him. “It is you, isn’t it?” He chuckled. His fingers unconsciously circled her neck, his thumb stroking the pulsing vein. The blood vessel throbbed with each contraction of her heart. God, he wanted to taste her. “Yes, petite guerrier, it is I who speaks to you.” “How do you do it?” She stirred, shifting her weight in his lap, stimulating a response from his lower half. His free hand stilled her. Yet the tightness in his body and throat continued. “I was born with the ability. Mind over matter.” His words forced between clenched teeth. Yes, mind over matter. And right now his mind was exactly where it mattered—right between his legs—or more accurately he was thinking about what was between hers. Her forehead wrinkled. “You know, I should fight you for keeping me here against my will.” “You are free to go,” he lied, drawing her closer to his heated body. He loved the feel of her rounded bottom pressed against his stirring cock. Like a kitten she curled up in his lap. His shirt completely covered her legs, with the exception of the bright pink-painted toenails peeking out. She was simply adorable. Although he had requested Millie to purchase clothing and incidentals for Charlene, he wanted her to wear his shirt. Something of his against her silky skin, sliding across her body, touching her most intimate parts, his scent on her at all times—a mark of his territory. “Why do you call me ‘little warrior’?” Charlee snuggled her cheek closer against his chest. The innocent gesture set off a bolt of electricity, white lightning, zapping through his body and setting him afire. The whoosh of blood singing through her veins rose in volume. He listened to its rhythmic tone, whoosh-whoosh, music to his ears as it pumped through the chambers of her heart. Mine. The thought made his cock tighten beyond comfort. Sweet pain imploded in his mouth, blood, his own, trickled down his throat. He could barely keep his hands from caressing and touching her. He attempted to speak, his voice a gravelly mixture of sexual hunger and desire. “You speak French?” The sharp points of his incisors pricked his bottom lip.

“A little. College elective.” “I call you petite guerrier, little warrior, because you are bold, daring, fearless. Even when you thought death approached, you faced it like a warrior.” Her voice was soft, sleepy. “Why did you save me, only to imprison me?” She yawned. “Because you are mine,” he said decisively to leave no doubt in her mind. She tensed, pushing away from his chest. Her head rose, heavy lids widened as she met his gaze. Amazingly, she weakened the energy he used to relax her as she took control of her body. “I am no man’s property,” she ground out. Her eyes sparked with an intensity that made him smile. “Ah, but, ma cherie, you are. Your body was created for mine. Your lips are incomplete without mine pressed against them. We are two halves of a whole. When I make love to you, and do not doubt I will, you shall see that this is to be.” “Has anyone ever told you that you’re arrogant, cocky, too sure of yourself?” “Mmmm… Let me think.” He smiled down upon her. She was small, delicate, perfect. “Yes, I believe I have heard those words before.” His hand slipped beneath the shirt she wore and began to gently stroke her calf. It pleased him that she didn’t shy away from his touch. The only sign of discomfort was her teeth worrying a corner of her bottom lip. “Who are you?” she asked with a mark of trepidation. “Devin Leduc, your mate.” His hand moved to feel the tender skin at the bend of her knee. She snorted. “Mate? A little old-fashioned, don’t you think?” She paused in thought. “No, really, why were you in the cemetery and how was it that you found me?” Her brows dipped in frustration as his fingers played across her skin. She swatted at his hand. Happiness consumed him. He had searched a lifetime for her. The angel curled in his lap was the other half of his soul. “Your scent.” He continued his journey up her leg. “Scent?” He heard the skepticism in her voice. “It called to me. There is nothing more alluring than the scent of a woman.” The inside of her thighs were soft, warm, until she clenched them together, trapping his hand. She cocked a brow. “Like a bitch dog in heat?” Devin choked back his laughter. He tugged his hand, eager to continue his pursuit. “No, each woman has a unique perfume of her own. From the soaps, shampoos and lotions she uses to the fabric softener in her clothes. Even the type of foods she eats makes up her essence.” He pulled again at his caged hand. Her thigh muscles tightened. She smiled at him. It was tentative and trembling, but it was a smile expressing her triumph. “But the fragrance of a mate, especially when she is excited or aroused…” he paused, devilishly moving his fingers enticingly, “…ah…is formidable. Her pores unfurl like the petals of a beautiful rose, emitting a stimulating aroma that draws her mate to her side. As you did me,” he added before he buried his nose in her hair and inhaled. “Mmm… Do you taste as good as you smell?”

Before she could respond he moved his mouth to hers—his firm, hers soft and pliable. His tongue delved beyond her lips and teeth to taste the honey that awaited him. Sweet, heavenly, she was an aphrodisiac to his senses, stealing his breath as he angled his head and deepened the kiss.

Chapter Six I’m dreaming, Charlee thought as she melted into Devin’s kiss. It was the only logical explanation she could conceive for what had happened and was happening to her now. Although it began as a nightmare, a horror movie by definition, her dream was quickly gaining merit. With relish, she followed his gentle path of discovery, her tongue feeling, tasting, in concert with his. His lips were tender, almost reverent, as if he sought to win her with a single kiss. Surely, he didn’t think her that superficial. Apparently, her traitorous body did as it decidedly surrendered and pushed all dissension aside. Tightness fluttered in her belly. “Ahhh…” A satisfying moan surfaced. Was it his or hers? Did it matter? When he lifted his head and broke the caress, an invisible tether pulled her body forward. Eyes closed, she leaned into him, her mind and senses dulled. She waited. But he didn’t kiss her again. Her heavy lids partially opened. He chuckled, a sound filled with male satisfaction. His golden eyes danced with laughter. A devilish yet sensual smile was etched upon his face. Charlee moistened her lips and then dragged in a breath. His masculine scent, a blend of untamed sensuality and power, engulfed and tormented her. His taste lingered on her tongue. She frowned. As if he didn’t want to give her time to think, he touched his mouth to the corner of hers and brushed a soft whisper across her lips. “Mmmm… You do taste as good as you smell.” His hand cupped the back of her head then slipped to the nape of her neck, pulling her closer. Charlee thought to refuse him. But couldn’t. It had been forever since she’d had a man, enjoyed flesh against flesh. She closed her eyes, felt his lips brush her ear. His mouth, perfect and sensuous, so hot and moist, wandered down her throat. His teeth grazed her skin lightly, his tongue a rasp of heat stroking her pulse. Each cell in her body suddenly stilled; she held her breath. She felt hot and achy, a need building out of control. His body was hard and warm. She could feel his strength; muscles like steel tightened beneath her. His cock swelled against her ass with a need he didn’t attempt to hide.

Conflict raged in her mind, but there was also unmitigated desire. Intuition told her to stop this madness. Why couldn’t she control the urge to strip him naked and fuck him until night became day? Beep. Wait. Was that her cell phone? His mouth moved over her throat in a trail of fire that set off small explosions in her body. Beep. There it was again. She lolled her head back giving him better access, loving the feel on his lips across her skin. Beep. Yeah. That was her cell phone and she had a message. Or else her body had become a time bomb and she was getting ready to explode. Then his mind invaded hers, a silent, sweet seduction. He was doing something magical with his mouth. Pressed against the vulnerable line of her throat, she felt his tongue stroke, caress. Her heart jumped wildly in response, her pulse racing. The warmth of his breath heated her blood, sending her body into meltdown and blocking out the annoying cell phone. A hot slab of lust lanced through her. Want so powerful it was almost painful made her tremble, then her control shattered. Like a wild thing she moved to straddle him, her thighs parted, legs sliding frantically over his. She needed a good fuck, and he was just the man who could give it to her. Her actions were desperate, so fast she nearly tipped the chair with them on it. She glided her hips back and forth, seeking release from the building torment. The stiff cotton of his pants pressing her slit apart, rubbing against her clit, only made her hornier, hotter. She rose only long and far enough to unfasten the button of his jeans. His ragged breathing matched hers. With his arm wrapped around her waist he rose, lifting her slightly as she pushed the annoying fabric to his knees. Then he sat and brought her midway down upon his cock. Steel wrapped in velvet parted the lips of her pussy. Heat like no other she had ever experienced accompanied his painfully slow entrance. Similar to a brush fire consuming dry grass, a firestorm whipped through her veins. If she didn’t have all of him soon, right now, she was going to detonate. Without a second thought, she plunged into heaven, impaling her body on his. A gasp of wonder escaped Charlee’s lips. She wasn’t innocent to sex, but somehow it felt new and wonderful—and right. Like her body would burst into flames if she didn’t take all of him, didn’t make him hers for all time. She knew it was silly. Knew she had waited too long to fulfill her sexual desires. Yet, she hungered for his touch, needing and wanting more as his hands circled her waist, lifting and forcing her down to meet his steady thrusts. “That’s it, ma cherie.” His throaty breath was warm against her ear. “Ride me.” She needed no encouragement controlling the pace. In a frenzy of passion, she took him deep, deeper, gripping tight, tighter with her thighs and inner muscles as she rode hard and fast. He filled her, completed her, as no other man had ever done before. Sex had always been an enjoyment, but oddly, it seemed different with this stranger. He made her feel…cherished. It was as if an invisible force, like two magnets, drew their essences together—as if they were made for each other.

Through the thin silk of her shirt, he captured her nipple into the warmth of his mouth while his hands caressed her body. When his gaze rose, his eyes were blazing with fire and passion. He seized her mouth and kissed her roughly. His hunger tore through her, inflamed her, and brought her senses to life. It was as if someone had taken sandpaper to her nerve endings—everything was heightened. And oh, how she wanted more! With a single jerk, he ripped open her shirt, baring her breasts. Buttons flew through the air, a rapid succession of loud, sharp noises as they hit the wood floor and rolled. None too gently he pushed the silk from her shoulders. She struggled for a moment, caught in the mass of material, but finally she was naked. He had too many clothes on to suit her. Taking Devin’s lead, her hands gripped each side of his shirt and pulled; again the ripping of material, the popping of buttons across the floor as she unveiled him. She felt like a raging animal as she literally tore off his shirt. The wild gleam in his eyes only encouraged her. Firm, thick muscles and curly black hair adorned an impressive chest. Her fingers skimmed over the light dusting of dark hair and then followed the path that narrowed down his well-defined abdomen straight to the nest between his thighs. “Pants,” she breathed, “take them off, now.” Since his jeans were at his knees it didn’t take much effort for him to kick off his shoes and work down the offending material till he was rid of them. Problem—or not—with every movement, his cock bounced against the walls of her sex, sending tremors through her body. Finally he was as naked as she, except for his socks. Her hands were everywhere touching and stroking and caressing as they rocked against each other. A deep growl rose from his throat as he looked down where their bodies united. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, raising her by the hips then easing her on his cock, up and down—again and again, slowing the pace as he watched his cock slide in and out of her pussy. The sound of his voice, the intensity of his expression shattered whatever control she had left. The richness of the night shattered inside her. Bright shooting stars traveled to foreign places never touched before. Spasm after spasm vibrated through her like sound waves. But it was more than the physical. He conveyed her mind and soul into a blissful state of tranquility. At that moment it felt like everything in her life was perfect. Closing his eyes, Devin ground his teeth to keep his orgasm at bay, ignoring his own need, so he could feel her pleasure as she climbed higher and higher, until she tumbled down the precipice. Fangs exploded in his mouth. The rush of her blood flowing through her veins made his mouth water. He could hear her heart pumping, chambers opening and closing, life beating through her. The need to taste her, secure the distance between them and brand her was almost uncontrollable. Instinct screamed, “Take her.” Yet he knew it wasn’t the right moment. She had been through so much, too soon. Perhaps he was a saint, because it was taking a divine act to resist taking what was his. He had waited too long, but now that she was in his arms he would not take any chances to cause disagreement between them. He also had to remember to remove her cell phone. The blasted thing was a

reminder of her life without him. Someone was trying to get in touch with her and he couldn’t let that happen. Devin held Charlene as she squirmed. Her inner muscles pulled him deeper into her hot, fiery body. The ache in his cock grew to the unbearable point of pain and pleasure as he fought his needs and desires. His tongue stroked his canines, needing to taste her and to feed the blood lust that raged inside him. It was hell. It was heaven. It was more than he had ever dreamed. Charlene was bringing new meaning to sex in a chair. He’d never look at the piece of furniture the same way again. The soft mewling sounds from her parted lips and the dark crescents of her eyelashes pressed to her cheeks as she bathed in the ecstasy of her climax made the tethers around his heart tighten. He opened his mouth, salivating and needing to mark her, to bring her into his world. He bent his head, allowing his teeth to scrape the tenderness of her neck. She smelled of soap, sex and the scent that was uniquely hers. In small circles his tongue swirled over the light blue vein throbbing with her life essence. Her blood called to him, his mouth closed over her throat as their heartbeats melded into one. Thrusting his hips, he plunged again as his nearing orgasm pushed him beyond the limits of control. Without conscious thought, he let his fangs pierce her tender flesh. He instinctively threw a veil, masking what he was about to do —take her blood and begin the steps toward the conversion process. In the aftermath of her climax, he easily took command of her mind and her rich blood burst into his mouth. The strongest drug could not have affected him as did her sweet taste upon his tongue. That immediate rush—the exquisite sensation of being carried through another dimension—walking amongst the clouds, and the knowledge that this feeling would forever reside within sent him out of control. He couldn’t get enough—couldn’t stop the need to feed until he quenched his thirst. His mate’s lifeblood flowed down his throat like fine wine or a rare delicacy. He knew he should stop. He had already taken too much. But when his orgasm hit with the strength of a hurricane carrying him away, he fed harder, stronger, his hunger only interrupted when she slumped in his arms. Quickly he cauterized his marks using his healing saliva with the swipe of his tongue. She lay crumpled in his lap, her color a pasty hue, her body listless. Damn. What had he done? Without hesitation his fingernail elongated, morphing into a talon that he slid deep into the area above one of his nipples. Blood surged from the wound as he pressed her mouth against him. “Drink, ma petite. Drink and live for me.” There was an ache in his voice— his heart. A cry in his soul that he had deceived his mate and nearly killed her. Her pulse was faint, her breathing raspy. She was so pale she looked ethereal. At first, her mouth moved weakly over his chest, a tickling sensation, as he coaxed her to feed. As the suction of her mouth grew stronger, his groin tightened. Lightning zinged through his abdomen. Watching her, knowing soon they would be together forever, made his cock harden inside her warm, moist

cove. He couldn’t wait until her teeth pierced his skin, to feel that exact moment of penetration of both teeth and body. The pressure against his chest felt like a magnet tugging between his thighs, pulling and drawing. As her blood flowed through his veins, so would his in hers. Another blood exchange and she would enter his dark world and become his lifemate for all eternity. When Charlene's skin tone turned a healthy pink glow, he gave her the command to stop feeding. She refused him, a growl surfacing as her teeth bore down, taking him further into her mouth. The pain and pressure of her suckling stirred his blood and shattered his senses. The exquisite pull of her mouth grew stronger, faster, making his body go up in flames. Still, losing himself in her again would only compound the issue. She had already taken too much. He felt dizzy as his mental push intensified and he struggled to gain control. He felt a bittersweet loss as she broke their connection. Almost instinctively, she swiped her tongue across the wound on his chest, cauterizing the blood. The mixture of her saliva and the transfer of healing properties in his blood now running through her veins began to work immediately, closing the wound and turning the slash into an angry scar that turned pink, lightened and disappeared. He gave her the command to sleep. Her own fingers were healing, the rawness and cuts gone, her nails healthy once again. Bruises and bumps that had spread across her face and body had faded, only shadows now. Like an angel, she slept in his arms. Nothing was physically noticeable from her ordeal the night before. Damn. When Charlene awoke to a full recovery, she would definitely wonder who he was, or more importantly, what he was. He pushed back a lock of her blonde hair that twisted down the middle of her forehead. Would she forgive him for his lack of control? Her parted lips were enticing. He dipped his head and tasted her. She sighed. The rise of her breasts, so firm and full, caught his attention and his cock stirred to life inside her. Not again. This continual hard-on was going to drive him mad. He could easily take her right now—right this minute. His hips moved on their own accord. She snuggled closer to his warmth. The memory of her climax, the hunger in her eyes, was enough to tighten his testicles into hard, uncomfortable balls. Even in her sleep, her body reacted to his. Her rosy nipples peaked, the dark ring around them beading with her sudden arousal. The musk she released tantalized his already heightened, keen sense of smell. Her pussy was moist and welcoming. A shiver raced through him as he raised her from his lap, sliding out of her warmth. He stood with her gathered her into his arms, cradled against his chest. Again, she released a contented sigh and a chuckle rose within him. She was a hellion ready to fight the devil himself one minute, the next sugar wouldn’t melt in her mouth, she looked sweet and innocent. One thing Devin knew, there would never be a boring moment spent with his lifemate. He gently carried her over to the bed and laid her upon the cool sheets. She immediately moved to her side, curling her knees and pulling the pillow tighter to her. Since she hadn’t eaten the night before, this was probably for the best.

As he pulled the comforter over her legs and hips, up to her shoulders, he made a mental note to ask Millie to make something hot for Charlene to eat when she rose. She was so peaceful in slumber that all Devin wanted to do was join her under the covers. But night was waning and he had to feed to restore the blood he had given her after his bloodlust had nearly robbed her of life. The exchange had weakened him. He glanced down at her once more and warmth filled his chest. Come tomorrow night she would be healthy and revived. And from what little he knew of her by the quick mind scan he performed, she would be pissed. His little warrior would be ready to seek revenge on those who had wronged her. Lord knew he would need all his strength to deal with her.

Chapter Seven A ringing in her head brought Charlee awake. There was no pain, not like the prior night, only this constant, nagging ringing that was more irritating then anything. Prying her eyes open one at a time, she could see from the small grandfather clock atop the mantel and the darkness appearing through the window that evening had arrived. Once again, she’d slept the day away. For a moment, the muffled ringing stopped and then just as quickly began again. “Jeez.” She rolled her eyes. The damn ringing was her cell phone she realized as it went quiet again. Pushing back the covers, Charlee discovered she was naked and felt wonderful. Sex did that for a girl. In fact, she couldn’t remember when she last felt this good. There were no lingering headaches. She wasn’t stiff and achy, except in the places one could expect after a good tumble. She looked down at her healed hands and frowned as the cell phone began to scream again, demanding her attention. “Okay, where are you?” When her feet landed on the cool wood floor, a shiver raced up her spine. Arms crossing her chest, she briskly rubbed her palms up and down from shoulders to elbows. The ringing started again and she began to move and gaze around the room. Cocking her head, she strained to determine the phone’s whereabouts. With each footstep, she took in her surroundings. She was in the house of the man who had rescued her. The chair that had been pulled away from the wall when she had experienced the best sex ever now sat back in its place. The remnants of torn shirts, buttons and Devin’s pants were nowhere to be found—and neither was the man. As she drew closer to the eight-drawer dresser pushed up against the wall near the door, the telephone became louder. She opened the first drawer, discovering female lingerie. The silky, lacy confections made her wonder whose room she occupied. Surely, Devin wasn’t married. What if he was? Charlee felt the thud of disappointment in her chest. Rich, good-looking guys were always taken. So,

what was last night? A little treat before the wife returned from vacation or shopping in France? The thought made her angry as she slammed the drawer and reached for the next one. A variety of shirts filled the drawer. The next contained shorts and pants. In the fourth one, she discovered her cell phone, her keys, as well as her weaponry—except for her favorite Glock. The bastards at the cemetery must have kept her pistol. Damn. She’d miss that gun. Fact is it was her very first gun. It had sentimental value. Well, hell… She reached for her cell phone, opening the cover before pressing it to her ear. “Charlee Madison.” “Where the hell are you?” Gloria had the worried mother voice down pat. Charlee could imagine the creases in her friend’s forehead. “Your brothers are burning up the telephone lines looking for you. They’ve called the police. New Orleans’ finest have been here twice today. They found your car abandoned in front of a cemetery, not to mention an open grave and shattered coffin.” The phone clicked. Gloria’s voice cut out. “Charlee… Charlee, you’d better not have hung up on me.” Charlee’s shoulders fell. “I’m here, Gloria.” Brothers…police… Hell, what was she going to do? If the gruesome-twosome discovered she had been attacked, that she had been buried alive, and that she had fucked a stranger who could talk in her mind, she’d be in deep shit. She paused, smiling. Right now she’d give her eyeteeth to do the pole dance with Devin again. Yet if her brothers knew the truth, they’d kidnap her and tie her to the bedposts. Complicating it more, if she went to the police and pressed charges against the two ass-wipes in the cemetery—providing she could find them—there would be no way she could keep this a secret from her brothers. Big brothers, Blake and James, were a pair of Hollywood detectives, and cops took care of cops—and their sisters. Did her brothers think she was clueless about the undercover dicks that followed her from time to time? And where the hell were they when she could have used them in the cemetery? For Christ’s sake, she was a private investigator. She got paid to notice those types of details. “Well, let’s hear it.” A little of the concern Charlee had detected in her friend’s voice had disappeared, replaced by an attitude that said “this better be good”. Next to her weapons, Charlee found the clothing she had worn the night she was attacked—black jeans, shirt and jacket. “Gloria, I’m in a little bit of hurry. I’m coming right home. Well, uh…as soon as I discover where I’m at.” Charlee knew that was the wrong thing to say as soon as it left her mouth. “Dammit, Charlee. Are you okay?” Gloria’s voice reached an all time high. “Girl—” “I’m fine. Spent the last couple nights with a man straight out of the centerfolds.” An uneasy chuckle pushed through Charlee’s lips. Well, it was the truth. “What? You mean you’ve torn down the ‘pussy condemned’ sign and replaced it with a neon flashing ‘vacancy’?” She laughed and her tone returned to normal. “No cobwebs for me,” Charlee joked as, single-handedly, she carried her

clothes to the bed, taking special precaution with balancing her weapons. Her clothes were a little worse for wear, but they were clean. She had Millie to thank, she was sure. “Okay, I will fight off the daring duo for one more hour. Charlee, do you hear me? One. More. Hour. Then I’m making it a threesome and hunting you down myself.” “Don’t worry. I’ll be there,” Charlee said before snapping the cell phone shut. “I’ll be there if I can find my way out of here.” Her words said one thing, her body another. What she’d give to have one more night with the man who had given her a slice of heaven, in a chair of all places. With haste, she dressed and donned her weapons. The small derringer she slipped in the pocket of her jacket. Thankfully, she had another Glock at home. “Dare to keep a spare.” She chuckled, making her way to the door. Her fingers closed around the doorknob and tried to turn it. Stuck. She tried again, but no use. Pissed, she wrenched the doorknob once more in disbelief. The son of a bitch had locked her inside. “Devin, you better get your ass over here and let me out. Now.” Her fury was met with silence. She pounded on the barrier. “Open this door.” Still no response. Mad enough to spit fire she jerked the derringer from her pocket aimed it at the door handle and— “Mademoiselle.” Millie’s voice came muffled through the door. “Monsieur Devin has requested you stay in your room until he rises.” Charlee planted her hands, gun and all, on her hips. “Well you can tell Monsieur Devin to go straight to hell. Now open this door,” Charlee demanded firmly. She had played along with his little kidnap game the first night, but she had things to do, places to go and bastards to catch. “I cannot.” The finality in Millie’s voice burned Charlee’s ears. Well crap! She raised the gun and aimed it again on the doorknob. “Then move aside because I’m going to blast a friggin’ hole in this door.” “Mon Dieu!” Millie gasped. Charlee heard light footsteps hasten away. “Fuck. I don’t really want to damage the damn thing.” Charlee spun on her heel and headed for the French doors. Securing her gun back into her jacket pocket, she pushed the doors open with a single thrust. The sun was setting. The city was alive. A different crowd of people walked the streets at night than did those during the day. In fact, one didn’t dare the French Quarter alone at night, which brought Charlee back to why she was standing on the terrace looking down. A large oak tree grew outside the window. If she jumped, she could probably catch the limb and swing onto the main trunk to climb down. If she missed, she ’d land flat on her ass breaking who knows what. She gazed down the distance, gauging the probability of success. At least she had some idea where she was. From the balcony she could see Jackson Square, New Orleans’ first town square, the military parade ground and the ceremonial plaza. The Cajun smells wafting through the air had to be from Café du Monde or even the French Market that was within walking distance. Looking out at the city, she murmured, “St. Ann.” She was on St. Ann Street. “Okay.” She doubled checked her gun and made sure the rest of her

weaponry was secure. The last thing she needed was to fall and kill herself, literally. Crawling upon the railing, she teetered on her tennis shoes, which squeaked as she gained her balance. She bent at the knees, lunged and soared through the air. She barely caught the branch. Her fingers began to slip. She tightened her hold and couldn’t help it—she looked down. Her precarious position made the ground look twice the distance it had seemed from the balcony. Gradually moving her hands inch by painful inch, she worked her way toward the tree trunk. Her palms felt sweaty, her hundred and ten pounds heavier than she remembered as she swung over and settled on a larger, sturdier branch. Okay, that was really stupid, Charlee. You should have just shot the doorknob and taken the stairs. She chuckled, knowing she always seemed to take the hard way instead. Now for the descent down. Much of her life, Charlee had been a tomboy. Climbing trees was second nature, but something was wrong. Like an itch she couldn’t scratch or a nagging sensation crawling beneath her skin. It was as if her equilibrium had gone south. She felt a little dizzy and there was a pressure in her chest that she had never felt, almost as if leaving this place, leaving Devin, caused her heart to hurt. That made about as much sense as meeting a stranger in an abandoned cemetery or, for that matter, bedding said stranger. But she openly admitted, kidnapper or no, Devin had been the best lay she’d ever had. In fact, after climaxing she remembered nothing more than drifting off into an unconscious state. Charlee smiled at the thought. Man, had her imagination run amok. First at the cemetery and now. She shimmied down the tree, missing the final limb and tumbled to the ground with an unladylike grunt. She curled into a ball to absorb the fall and rolled to a stop. Damn. That hurt! She had landed on her hip harder than expected. She stood and brushed grass from her pants and the sleeves of her jacket before she looked back at the house. “What a shame. We could have hit this one out of the ballpark.” The thought saddened her. She’d found a man who made her body sing, but truth be known, he scared the shit out of her. Something wasn’t right. Devin was dangerous. She sensed it. Hell—it wasn’t normal to read people’s minds. With that, she turned and headed for the street corner. Glancing at her wrist, she cursed her habit of leaving the house without a watch. The sun was fading into the west. Surely, she didn’t have much time left before Gloria would sic the dogs on her. Her stubborn friend would do that in a heartbeat if she thought Charlee was in danger. Charlee stepped forward, waving her hands as a cab turned the corner, heading right for her. The asshole slowed and then pressed the gas, leaving her wondering what the hell that was all about. As another yellow cab approached, she took a step into the street, her arms stretched in front of her, palms out. She put on her best scowl. He was either going to stop or run over her. Thankfully, he stopped. As she opened the door, the driver, a man approximately twenty-two years

old, flung his arm on the back of the seat as he turned toward her and said, “Hey, lady, you crazzzy or sompin?” He pinned her with a scowl. “Are those my only choices?” Charlee snickered, crawling into the back seat. She grinned as he shook his head and asked, “Where to?” “Drop me off at the corner of St. Philip and Burgundy.” She never gave anyone her address, especially a cab driver. It was only a short walk from the corner. With a little twist and a turn here and there, no one would be able to follow. The cab pulled over and stopped. Charlee reached in her pant pocket and extracted a roll of money she was glad her attackers hadn’t taken. Last thing she needed was to lose what money she had. She paid the cabbie and headed home. As she approached the tall, red brick building, she skirted around the side, taking the back way up to her apartment. Using the keys she took from her pocket, she let herself in. Charlee’s hound dog of a roommate must have heard the keys jingle or the lock disengage because as Charlee stepped inside, Gloria was there to meet her. The tall brunette stood, hands on hips, taking her favorite stance as the toe of her shoe patted the floor. “Well?” She frowned, then her features softened and she rushed to embrace Charlee. “Did you ride him hard and put him up wet? Don’t hold anything back, sister. I want to hear all the sordid details.” “I don’t know…” Charlee started and Gloria’s eyes widened like she was going to thump Charlee a good one. “Okay.” Charlee chuckled. “He’s about six-two, eyes as amber as molten gold. Ummm… Let’s see…” She tapped a finger on her chin. “Oh yeah. A cock large enough to hang your coat on and have room for your purse to swing freely.” Gloria flinched. “Nah-ha?” Charlee shrugged nonchalantly. As she placed her keys on the hall table, a cream colored envelope with gold trim caught her eye. “What’s this?” She frowned, picked it up and began to tear a thin ridge off the top off the envelope. “I am so jealous.” Gloria stood again with her hands on her hips. “It came this morning.” Her forehead furrowed. “That big?” “Big? Oh! Yeah, he certainly was.” Charlee rolled her eyes and shook her head, laughing. “Before I forget, the police want to talk to you.” The look on Gloria’s face said, “Let’s see if you can get out of this one, sister.” “What?” Damn, there went keeping a low profile and not letting her brothers know what was going on. “Yeah…” Gloria held on to that last letter of the word, stringing it out so it sounded more like, duh. “You can’t abandon your car in front of a cemetery that has been broken into and happens to have a freshly dug grave and a wooden coffin blown to smithereens and not expect the cops to be interested. Or for that matter, your brothers.” She frowned. “By the way, what did happen?” Shit. Charlee knew that if she shared what actually occurred that night to the police, she’d have so much brass up her ass that if she broke wind the Battle Hymn of the Republic would blow out. And she’d not be any better off if

Gloria knew the truth. “My car broke down in front of the cemetery,” Charlee lied. Those sculptured brunette eyebrows of Gloria’s shot up so fast Charlee half-expected them to meet the woman’s hairline. “And you want me to believe that?” Gloria’s face twisted, obviously insulted. And what really bothered Charlee was that she couldn’t blame Gloria. They were friends. “Dammit, Gloria,” Charlee whined. “Please. Can’t you settle with ‘I had the most amazing sexual experience of my life’ and let it go at that?” Gloria hesitated and then nodded with interest. “Really? Amazing?” She grinned a Cheshire cat smile. For a moment, Charlee forgot herself. “Oh, Gloria, it was amazing. I can’t stop thinking about the man.” And she couldn’t. Never had she felt such an attraction, a bonding with another person and so quickly. The whole experience left her confused. Not to mention the odd happenings of the night before. If she even hinted at the truth, Gloria would call her brothers. In less than a minute, James and Blake would have her wrapped in a straitjacket and hauled back to California. Still, how much of it was reality? Shit like this didn’t happen. Not without lights, camera, action. Charlee extracted the piece of paper from the envelope and read it twice. “Fuck.” Her heart began to race. Perhaps this was the opportunity she’d waited for. Or perhaps she’d have the chance to kick some major ass. “What?” Gloria looked askew to get a glimpse of the letter. Charlee clutched the paper to her chest. “Nothing.” If Gloria found out that Jacque Montague had requested a meeting, shit would hit the fan. Whoever killed Stacy Benton was dangerous and Charlee didn’t need to be reminded. But she was getting nowhere on this case. And now she had a personal score to settle after the other night. She shivered. The thought made her skin crawl. Gloria’s long, red fingernails clicked together as she attempted to snatch the letter from Charlee. The rich scent of Gloria’s perfume teased Charlee’s nose as she darted away. “Come on, girl, share.” Gloria made another pitch for the paper as Charlee veered to her left. “It’s from the—” she stopped and put her hand over her heart, “—greatest lay of the century.” Gloria giggled and once again tried for the letter. Just the excuse Charlee needed. “Yes, and I’m not going to let you get your claws into this one. He’s mine.” She darted toward for her bedroom, closing the door in the nick of time, leaving her friend laughing in the hallway. He’s mine? Charlee leaned against the door, breathing a little hard. Funny, but it felt right to say it. About Devin that was, not the letter writer. She inwardly huffed and pushed away from the door. The man was a stranger. Although he had saved her from dying in that cemetery, he had also kidnapped her. She actually should have his ass hauled to jail. But who would believe her? The more she thought about it, the more she doubted that any of this really happened. Of course, the evidence at the cemetery confirmed it. A shit-load of other questions would be asked that she didn’t have answers for. Charlee wasn’t crazy—she just found herself in an awkward situation. If she

breathed a word of this to the police she would have to tell them about Devin. For some unknown reason she knew she couldn’t reveal him. She ran a trembling hand through her hair. Damn. She had a really bad case of lust that was interfering with her good judgment. Memories of his touch, kiss, the way he moved inside her— Charlee sucked in her breath. They hadn’t used a condom. Fuck. How could she have had sex without a condom? Was she out of her freaking mind? The pounding on her bedroom door made Charlee spin around. What now? “Charlee, the police are here,” Gloria answered her unspoken question through the door. “Great, that’s all I need,” Charlee whispered as she tossed the note from Jacque Montague on the bed. He’d requested she meet him at Bombay Club on Conti Street at seven for dinner. It was just like the influential man to choose the swanky place with a sophisticated French Quarter atmosphere. Wine…dine…and murder must be his specialty. She caught her reflection in the mirror and cringed. Well, she couldn’t go dressed looking like this. After she got rid of the cops she’d slip into something more appropriate. An evening dress and pistol would never look so good together.

Chapter Eight Dirt and rock shifted above Devin as the ground rumbled with his fury. It was still light outside and his strength and power were not at full capacity. At times, he had pushed the limits and rose too soon or retired too late, and each time he paid a price. He couldn’t afford to be less than one hundred percent in control now that he had Charlene to protect. He knew the moment she left the house, even sensed her frustration and the path she took. Encased in soil and powerless to stop her, he lay, seething to the point he was speechless. Her anger was palpable, but did not reach the intensity of his. Again, the woman thwarted him and his safeguards. Never had anyone breached his security or disobeyed an order. Which made him wonder what actual power one had over a lifemate? If the answer was none, he was in more trouble than he had ever imagined, because Charlene would not meekly follow where he led. However, it should be a little easier now that they shared a blood exchange. He could scent her anywhere. The heavy, dull sensation he had woken to was beginning to wane. His heart thumped as it came alive in his chest. Energy flowed through his body, pushing blood through his veins, seeking to fill his organs and limbs. Damn Charlene. Evidently, until her final conversion, he would not be able

to speak mind to mind while he was incapacitated in sleep. But it didn’t stop him from looking through her eyes, seeing what she saw, hearing what she heard, and feeling what she was going through. The infuriating woman was excited to meet with Jacque Montague at the Bombay Club. Yes, there was some apprehension, but he could sense her confidence, knew she felt she had the situation in hand. “Devin, something has wakened you. What’s wrong?” Lucius and Damien asked in unison, using the mind path he shared with his brothers. They were a tight family, one he could trust with his life. Even their mother and father had been tied to them until they had been killed by hunters the previous year. His family was one born to the vampire heritage, which of course squashed the myths that vampires could not reproduce except through conversion. Devin remained silent, thinking to close the mind link, yet knowing it was too late. He had not shared his discovery of Charlene, not with Damien so close to the edge. Actually, he had closed the link between both brothers for just this reason when he had scented his mate. In his anger his hold must have slipped. “Is it true? Have you found your lifemate as Millie suspects?” Lucius asked innocently. “No wonder you didn’t make it to the billiards room night before last.” The laughter in his voice made Devin wince. Their housekeeper had shared her suspicion. Damn his younger brother. Of course, it wasn’t Lucius’s fault or Millie’s. Devin worried the news would make Damien uncomfortable or Charlene’s presence would worsen his condition. And it was extremely difficult holding a conversation with his brothers as he monitored Charlene. He wasn’t happy about the little red dress that turned his blood to molten lava or the gun she slipped into her purse. At least this time she had the good sense to meet the man in a populated place, instead of a cemetery. Right now, his intuition didn’t sense any immediate danger. Not to mention he needed a moment to cool off before approaching his disobedient mate. Before Devin could speak Damien asked, “Is it true, brother?” His voice was dark, darker than Devin remembered when they last spoke. There was something in Damien’s tone that made Devin wonder how close to turning his brother truly was. He sounded hollow, empty. “Yes,” Devin finally admitted. How could he feel guilty and thrilled at the same time for finding his lifemate, while Damien suffered? Yet finding her had filled Devin with such hope and life. “I will return to France, so that your mate is in no danger from me,” Damien stated. If he was disappointed it was not obvious, but the foreboding in his words was unmistakable. Devin knew the dangers of having a vampire close to turning near an unmarked woman. But he trusted his brother. And Damien needed to be close to family at a time like this. “No, you must come to Lucius and me. We are stronger together.” Damien did not answer. When Devin had rescued Charlene, he had shut down all mind links as he focused on her. Now that the paths between brothers were open he knew Damien could smell her, sense Devin’s happiness, even feel their bond. He and

Damien could also feel Lucius’s lust, a reaction to his own as he thought of Charlene, thought of her naked body sliding across his heated skin. His cock hardened with the need to taste her, to hold her. It was so strong and overpowering that his testicles drew tight against his body. Damien groaned, a strained sound that bordered on pain. Immediately Devin tried to turn his focus from Charlene. “How soon will you arrive in New Orleans?” His attempt at pushing thoughts of her from his mind was unsuccessful. He needed to be with Charlene. His body called out to hers. And both his brothers knew it. “You have not brought her over.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement from Damien. “You now fear for her safety.” Funny how emotionless his brother’s voice sounded, but Devin heard the criticism. “She is human. I wish to allow her the opportunity of choice,” Devin said, and at that moment, he felt the night close its curtains on the sun. Devin burst from the rich soil into the air. His naked body shook, spraying dirt everywhere. He cupped his hard erection, stroking in long tight movements as his incisors burst from his gums and pierced his bottom lip. His blood froze, he hung motionless in midair. In his mind’s eye, he watched as Charlene entered the Bombay Club. The maitre d’ smiled, guiding her toward a handsome man. No, not man—vampire. Moreover, an ancient one if he could rise before the sunset, or a stupid one if he courted the consequences. Devin sensed ancient. At once, he and his brothers probed for danger as he began to drift to the ground, his feet touching. Nothing. Neither Devin nor his brothers sensed the vampire was a threat; at least, not at the moment. Damien said, “He does not appear to want to hurt your mate. The man rather acts as if he would like to terminate their relationship. He finds her rather,” he paused, “irritating.” Devin chuckled. Charlene was not the woman to have nipping at your heels in a murder investigation. Yes, he knew what she was up to. The mind scan he had performed on her earlier had revealed her occupation and the case she was currently working on, but would not be for long. “She is your lifemate. What choice is there?” Lucius said hoarsely. Devin felt his brother emerge from the earth’s embrace fully aroused. Damien had already risen. The feel of the cool air caressing his wings filled Devin’s mind. A swirl of dark emotions surrounded his elder brother like a veil. Damien was close to changing and Devin’s lustful thoughts were not helping as he spoke quietly to Charlene, using their mind path. “No. Share them with me.” It almost sounded like a plea as Devin felt the carnal pleasure rush through Damien’s veins like hot acid. “Share what I can only long for.” While speaking with his brothers, Devin listened to the conversation Charlene held with the vampire known as Montague. Just the sound of her voice made Devin hot. Visions of making love to her consumed him. She was everywhere around him. He could smell the soap she bathed with the night

before mingling with her essence. The rush of her blood flowing through her veins made his mouth water. Heart pumping wildly, her delicate organ’s chambers opened and closed with the music of life beating loud and clear. Lucius and Damien’s matching desires caused their fangs to burst in their mouths. Their bond was so close Devin tasted his brothers’ blood as their incisors pushed through bone and tissues. The image in Devin’s mind changed as his brothers joined the memory of Charlene and him in the bedroom where he had taken her body and her blood. In the moment that was more than a memory, Damien and Lucius’s naked, aroused forms moved close to Charlene and Devin as he pumped in and out between her thighs. She was wild in his arms and he could sense his brothers’ envy, sense their need to join. Damien was stronger than Devin realized, to take his memories and merge them with fantasy—Damien’s fantasy—not his own. For a moment, in Devin’s vision, Damien stood back as Lucius stepped forward, an act asking for acceptance—approval. Even in a fantasy, Devin did not want to share Charlene, but the need in Damien’s eyes threw him into turmoil. His brother needed him—needed this, not to mention Devin could feel Charlene’s inquisitive mind rambling. She had fantasized of multiple lovers. He had seen it in her memories, her dreams. At first, the knowledge enraged him. He wavered. Fantasies were normal, even healthy. Devin nodded. Damien moved so fast, his hunger so intense that Devin felt the surge of power flowing out of his brother charge the air with electricity. It was desire so hot, so desperate that Devin felt the pull in his cock, his climax edging on the verge of exploding. Instead, he extracted himself from Charlene’s warmth, rising with her in his arms as he made for the soft rug before the fireplace in the bedroom. Flames flickered and soft shadows danced across her face as he turned and looked at his brothers. Devin’s desire was mirrored in both his brothers’ eyes as he laid her down upon the Persian carpet. She squirmed and moved her body seductively, her breasts pushed high, nipples erect as she enticed the three men. She teasingly drew her knees up and let them slide apart, slowly. The little devil. Devin’s breath caught on an inhale. Even in a fantasy, Charlene was a handful. The blonde vixen had him, as well as his brothers, nearly foaming at the mouth. She wanted this—it was in her eyes, the pheromones she released—and the desire heating her face was more than could be denied. Yes, he would give her this fantasy once—only once. Then something completely unexpected happened. Damien opened the path to Charlene and drew her mentally into their foursome. Her mind would see what they saw. She would feel what they felt. And she would be powerless. Her subconscious would rule her. She would be wide-awake and caught in a dream, which could be complicated given her current situation and location. The maitre d’ led Charlee through the nightclub and an attractive dark-haired man rose as she approached. She didn’t need the introduction the

maitre d’ provided to know Jacque Montague stood before her. She had studied his photograph long enough to know every nuance of the man’s features. With no hesitation she reached for his outstretched hand, feeling the strength in the fingers that she was certain had killed Stacy Benton. Before she could draw away with distaste, he pulled her closer and kissed the back of her hand. His lips were warm and moist, making the skin on her arm prickle. Over her hand, he gazed up through seductive lashes. “Miss Madison.” Frowning, she tugged her hand. He held it briefly, letting her know who controlled the moment, before he released her. With an air of confidence and authority that slightly shook her, he scooted her chair out, leaving his palm on the back of the chair as he awaited her next move. “I took the liberty to order the house specialty. An exquisite filet, rare of course, topped with Stilton bleu cheese and served with chive mashed potatoes. For dessert I have ordered you the German Chocolate Martini.” “A little presumptuous, aren’t you?” Dammit. She loved Stilton bleu cheese and how the hell could he know she ate her steaks rare? The thought of the German Chocolate Martini had her mouth watering. She scowled at him through narrowed eyes. He returned her scorn with a comfortable nod of his head. “Do you wish for something different?” The perfect gentleman. Bah . “No,” she said with a little more emotion than she cared to reveal. His small talk about food didn’t impress her. She took the seat he offered, uneasy with having her back to him for even a moment, even in this populated restaurant. He leaned next to her cheek. She could feel the warmth of his skin. Smell the sweet cognac on his breath. “You know they have one hundred and fifteen varieties of martinis?” His sensual voice sent chills up her spine as his warm breath caressed her neck. He inhaled so deeply she felt as if he could actually taste her skin. There was something disturbing, yet sexy about how he made her feel with his aristocratic good looks and noble ambience. Almost as if she’d stepped back in time. Damn, the man was playing her like an idiot. For a second she almost forgot what he was—a murderer. Glancing over her shoulder, bringing their lips inches apart, she cocked a brow, thankful her voice was calm when she spoke. “Mr. Montague, I know the features of the Bombay Club. I’m not here to enjoy the fine French Creole cuisine or the live music.” Although the band’s snappy tune was delightful. The laughter and fun atmosphere was indeed chipping at the anxiety that tightened her neck and shoulders. When he placed his hands on said shoulders and began to massage, Charlee nearly jumped out of her chair. Soft, arrogant male laughter kept her seated. Curse the man. Montague hadn’t fallen for her false bravado and he was clearly letting her know her pretense had failed. She glanced up at him and he smiled. Dark lashes shadowed even darker

sensuous eyes. She wondered how a man endowed with looks, grace and money could have ripped out a woman’s throat. What kind of animal did that? His long fingers pressed against her bare skin and caused a delightful sensation to tighten in her belly. His touch was gentle, arousing. Yet deadly, she reminded herself and again attempted to brush aside his caress, but his hands remained. A familiar growl erupted in her mind. Startled, her eyes widened. This time she did pop out of her chair. Her gaze snapped from side to side in search for Devin’s whereabouts. “Miss Madison.” Her sudden movement had ripped Montague’s hands away. “Are you all right?” Actual concern flashed in his deep brown eyes as he moved in front of her. “Do not allow him to touch you again ,” the voice in her head warned. Okay, this was some freaky shit. “Devin,” she spoke in the same method as he did, taking several steps backward to avoid Montague’s outstretched hand reaching for her. “Miss Madison?” “Yes-yes. I don’t know what came over me.” She frowned, steadying the tremors in her hands. She gazed into the darkness of Montague’s eyes and could almost feel their warmth. No wonder he sucked women into his evil web. The wacko actually appeared concerned and damn, he was sexy standing there in a three-piece suit. Even fully clothed his large hands made a woman want to discover what was beneath all that material. Another growl in her head brought her back to why she was here. “Hell, yes, I know what came over me, six feet of dirt.” “Pardon?” Montague stopped short, dropping his hand to his side. “Yeah, as if you didn’t know your goons buried me six feet under night before last in one of the oldest cemeteries in New Orleans.” Montague’s eyes widened slightly. Disbelief—or was it concern—furrowed his brows. As quickly as it appeared, it was gone. Man, this guy was good. For a moment, Charlee thought she’d surprised him. That he knew nothing about what happened to her several nights ago. Casually, he glanced around at the people beginning to take notice as she spoke none too quietly. He walked back to her chair and held it. His voice dropped dangerously low. “Perhaps we can talk calmly about this.” The waiter approached, setting their watercress salads before them on the table, then looked to Montague for permission to leave. Montague nodded and the waiter turned and departed. Montague had ripped a woman’s throat out and he asked her to converse calmly. “Do as he requests, ma petite guerrier. I will be there as soon as I can. You will be safe within the restaurant.” She closed her eyes and attempted to shake the voice from her head. “Devin,” she whispered, opening her eyes to a drop-dead-sexy smile. “Jacque,” Montague corrected, waving a hand over her chair. “Now please, Miss Madison, won’t you take a seat.” Another warning growl erupted in her head. “Yeah. Yeah. Back off, Devin. I can handle this. I don’t want you here.” She

sat, making sure Montague’s hand did not brush her bare shoulder. She had struggled with what to wear. A short red evening dress with spaghetti straps was her choice. Surely, the man wasn’t fool enough to attack her in front of a group of people. The derringer she had placed in her matching clutch purse, which was setting on the table, would take care of the rest. “Ah, but your body does.” Devin’s sexy voice interrupted her thoughts. “What?” she blurted as an image of her and Devin fucking popped into her head. Before Montague could respond to her outburst, she brushed him off with a quick movement of her fingers. “Your body misses me—wants me there.” Damn if Devin’s voice didn’t make her nipples pucker, drawing Montague’s eyes breast level. The heat of his gaze and Devin’s voice was a stimulus. The hair across her arms rose with anticipation as Devin continued. “Do you not miss my touch, my caress, my kiss ?” he hissed, dragging out the ‘s’ and turning her bones to jelly as Montague stroked her body with his hot gaze. She’d dreamed of this. She briefly closed her eyes. Two men at once. Damn. Damn. Damn. Devin was a stranger—a kidnapper in fact. Still it was true. She did miss everything about him. Not to mention the wrong signals Montague was picking up were making this situation even more bizarre and uncomfortable. Satisfied male laughter filled her head. “It is as I thought. You desire a ménage. But it will not be with this man.” Well crap! It must be the hit she took to the head that made her act out of sorts. She reached to touch the spot where she remembered seeing stitches. Nothing—nowhere. Frantically she moved her fingers over her face, searching for the wound she knew should be there, but wasn’t. She jerked her hands in front of her, gasping at her torn fingers that had already mended. Yes, she remembered seeing them healed back at her house, but Gloria, the cops…there had been no time to question how this was possible. “Perhaps we should talk another time.” Montague searched her face as if he thought she might have taken a walk right off a short cliff. Damn, the man must think I’m nuttier than a fruitcake. “No-no, if you could just excuse me for a moment,” she said, already rising to her feet. He stood and nodded. Dark brown eyes followed her every move from the table to the restroom, making her self-conscious. As the bathroom door swung shut, whacking her in the ass and pushing her forward, Charlee grumbled, “Shut the fuck up and stay out of my head.” “Excuse me,” a little gray haired woman said as she finished drying her hands. Her rheumy eyes widened, her wrinkled lips puckered with insult. With a jerk, she tossed the towel into the wastebasket. “Ma petite, I think you have offended the woman.” “I said, shut up.” “Well, I never,” the woman huffed and pushed through the door. “I bet you haven’t either.” Rude yes, but dammit, this freaky ass way of talking was getting the better of Charlee. “All right, how are you doing that? And how did you know someone else was speaking to me?”

“Because we are one.” She snorted, “Bullshit!” “I am part of you as you are part of me. We share each other’s thoughts.” “Don’t fuck with me. I’m in no mood. You made me look like a fool out there.” “Pardon me, ma petite. But you mustn’t allow another man to touch you.” “One night of wild sex doesn’t give you the right to interfere with my life.” The flushing of a commode in the stall behind Charlene and a strange woman’s voice brought her about. “You tell him, sister. Damn men.” A dark haired woman exited, pulling on her hiked dress, using her hands to smooth down the wrinkles. The gal looked around expecting to see someone else or at least Charlee on a cell phone. Then she smiled. “They can make you crazy can’t they?” She slipped her hands beneath the faucet, activating the water. “No shit,” Charlee readily agreed. “Yes, but being your lifemate does give me the right to interfere.” Anger simmered as Charlee watched the woman dry her hands. She gave Charlee one more quick grin before she pushed the door open and waltzed through it. Charlee exploded. “Enough! Stay out of my head and stay away from me. I have work to do.” She stormed from the restroom, avoiding the ass-smacking door by a hair. “I’ve had about enough of men,” she grumbled as she approached the table, bringing Montague to his feet. Eloquent and gentlemanly—and dangerous, she had to remind herself. He flashed her a sexy smile. God, she wanted to deck the man, and then lock him safely behind bars. Holding her chair once again, he said, “Is everything all right?” She was about to say ‘yes’ when a wave of heat rolled across her body and her mind filled with a picture of herself naked, crawling on all fours like a tigress toward Devin. She slid across his body, wetting him with her juices, before straddling him. The slow swipe of her tongue between her lips made him growl. His hands folded around her arms and he jerked her down to meet his lips. Their kiss was fiery and passionate. She tasted something metallic, hot and spicy, as their tongues dueled. Releasing a groan, she arched and broke the kiss. If it couldn’t get any freakier, in the distance two handsome men looked on, lust burning in their eyes and neither of them wore clothing. Now where the hell did that come from? She shook her head, trying to dislodge the spectacle. Losing her balance she sat, missed the chair, landing flat on her ass with a soft thud. The embarrassment scorching her face was more than she could stand. What was happening to her? She couldn’t control her thoughts as the movie continued to play. Visions of skin against skin, the smell of lust filling the air surrounded her, sucking her into the scene. Panic sliced through her. The dark, mysterious man in her vision looked at her with an expression of torment and pain. She gasped at the intensity of his anguish as it washed over her, threatening to suffocate her. In a flash, he approached so quickly he was a blur.

“Damien.” She heard his name like it was a breeze sifting through the corridors in her mind. He drifted to his knees behind her, his large hands on her waist trembled. She could feel his need, taste his raw passion on her tongue. Undeniably, she got the sense of desire restrained for too long. She knew that feeling. The gasps of several patrons in the restaurant were muffled by the words Devin spoke in her mind, “Ma cherie, you are as sweet as honey upon my tongue. Your blood beats through my body as mine does yours. I live for you.” His voice was pure seduction wrapping around her, holding her, binding her with invisible chains. Heat waves radiated off the man behind her. With each movement, her temperature moved up a notch, releasing a flood of desire. Her nipples firmed, drawing into tight, painful nubs. The pulse between her thighs throbbed. Shit. She was so turned on she writhed atop Devin, pushing back against the man behind her, seeking his caress. Charlee had never had two men touch her at the same time. It was exciting, filling her with anticipation. The crazy things going on in her head and body made it difficult to pay attention to what was happening in the restaurant. Montague was kneeling beside her, speaking, but the image in her head was taking control, blocking out sights and sounds of reality. A thrill ran through her as the other man in her vision moved before her. Again, a whisper caressed her mind. “Lucius.” This man was younger and blond, his erection jutting proudly from the thatch of light, curly hair between his thighs. There was a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. His body was raw sexual power rippling beneath his skin. A reddish birthmark shaped like a star was below the head of his cock. Lucius ran his fingers through her hair, a finger beneath her chin guiding her gaze to meet his. “You are a breath of fire, my love.” He stepped closer, a hand fisting in her hair and pulling her to him. Charlee licked her lips. Devin growled at Lucius’s endearment. Charlee was carefree in her vision. She laughed, enjoying the thought of being taken by three men. Ready for the experience of a lifetime. “Miss Madison.” Through the gauzy effect in her ears, she heard Montague, but she ignored him. She held her breath. She couldn’t wait for the moment of penetration. Damien’s large hands circled her waist, he raised her, then slowly eased her down on Devin’s long, hard cock. Her folds parted like petals taking him deep, deeper, until he filled her to the point she thought she’d burst. While Devin’s hands kneaded her breasts, she felt something cold and wet against her anus. A slick finger slipped inside, the foreign sensation forced a soft whimper from her lips. Another finger was inserted, working in and out, coating her with some unknown gel or lotion. When Damien’s fingers slipped from inside her, she felt something larger nudge the tight entrance. There was little discomfort when his thick erection pushed past the tight muscle, stretching and filling her completely. The sensation was incredible, something she could never imagine, having two cocks in her at once. Damien’s front was pressed against her back and she could feel the rapid

beat of his heart. But it was the fiery passion in Devin’s eyes that made her own heart skip a beat. “My turn,” Lucius whispered, guiding her head toward his erection. She parted her lips and he slipped inside. While Devin fucked her pussy, Damien fucked her ass and Lucius her mouth. Three cocks thrusting and demanding. Her body went wild. She writhed like she couldn’t get enough. Soft mewling sounds came from her mouth as she slid her lips and tongue along Lucius’s cock. She was wet, so wet and slick, increasing the friction and the heat as their flesh rubbed faster and faster against each other. Charlee’s orgasm hit like a tidal wave devouring everything in its path. In a blinding roar, it plunged through her and pulled her in all directions. In one fell swoop it stole her breath and filled her with such ecstasy that every bone in her body melted. Like lights being dimmed, her vision shimmered. She heard the three men’ s heavy breathing as Lucius slipped from her mouth. Felt their hands and mouths move against her neck and one breast. Their tongues swirl across her heated skin. Her mind was pitch-black as she felt tiny pinpricks, a sting, and then a pull from their mouths as they sucked. Like an explosion—all three men released their climaxes—it rolled over them, throwing Charlee into another orgasm. An earthquake could not have had more power and energy than what flowed from one body to the next as if they were conduits. Together they transcended time, moved from one dimension into another level of ecstasy, sharing their climaxes as one entity. Slowly, Charlee’s mind started to clear and her sight began to return. Montague’s outstretched hand pulled her back to the here and now. Here she was sprawled upon the floor and now she had to find some way to explain what had happened. She knew this was not going to be easy. Why the hell was Devin teasing her now? And like this… Montague still squatted beside her. “Miss Madison, please let me assist you.” “Sir, is the lady okay?” The maitre d’ asked, the aggravated look on his face made Charlee think he was more put out by her disturbing the flow of dinner, than concerned with her health. “Wait,” she moaned, knowing she didn’t have the strength to rise. Charlee couldn’t think. Reacting was beyond her ability as she stared at Montague. Lust sparked in his eyes. His nostrils flared. Could he smell the men’s scent on her or the raw aroma of sex that filled the air? Someone touched her shoulder, pulling her attention in two directions. What a sight she must be: dress gathered up around her thighs, sprawled on the floor with a glossy, a bright look in her eyes she knew had to be there. And then there was that small detail that she wore no underwear or stockings— panty lines ruined the effect the dress was supposed to have. If no one suspected she wore no undies, they would when she tried to rise. And by the look on Montague’s handsome face, he not only knew she wore none, he also knew she was wet with desire. The gleam of laughter in Montague’s eyes made her fume. Well, as much as a woman in the throes of passion could fume. If only her body didn’t feel like a

mass of jelly, she’d knock that grin right off his face. Devin would be next. Perhaps she could convince everyone it was a seizure. “Miss Madison, did you hurt yourself?” Montague drew her attention, but she remained silent. If she didn’t accept Montague’s assistance, the whole nightclub would see her ass and more. Not to mention she didn’t have the strength to rise by herself. She folded her hand in his. With a jerk, he raised her in his arms, cradling her like a baby. “Please, just help me to my chair.” The last thing Charlee wanted was to show weakness in front of this man. She’d rather die than ask for his help. Yet it was true embarrassment made people accept assistance when they otherwise wouldn’t. She was going to kill Devin next time she saw him. And who were these other two men, Damien and Lucius, having a heyday with her body? God, it was wonderful. “Thank you.” Damien’s voice was a whisper, forcing Devin’s eyes open. “Holy shit!” Lucius exclaimed. “You lucky son of a bitch.” Devin was alone in the underground chamber below his house. His cock was spent, the pearly evidence lying before him on the ground. The sound of water running, the percolating of the hot spring in addition to the Grecian spring only yards away, called to him, but there wasn’t time. He should have felt fulfilled. Instead, his need to feel Charlene in his arms grew stronger as her image faded and her situation came to the forefront. His anger resurfaced. Montague was carrying her outside the restaurant. The damn woman was leaving with the vampire. He needed to get to Charlene now. Already he had wasted too much time. “Lucius makes more sense than you, Devin. Take her—make her yours tonight.” The hollowness in Damien’s voice had lifted, if just a little. His brother had not released his mind completely. Devin could feel Damien holding on as if the connection between Devin and Charlene was his lifeline. Devin melted into a mist and moved quickly through the underground caverns, slipping through creases so small not even a piece of paper could be wedged in. Water trickled and the rich scent of soil surrounded him. There was another way out of his resting place then through his home. Even though neither he nor his brothers sensed that this vampire wanted to hurt Charlene, the man was touching her and that was enough for Devin. Besides, he needed to feel her in his arms. “It will be her choice,” Devin insisted as he felt Lucius making his way after him. “Like the one to be with another man, as she is this very moment?” Damien asked. Devin’s form shimmered, dipping in altitude. Clearly, Damien had probed further in Devin’s mind and felt his anger when the vampire touched Charlene. Damien and Lucius could feel Charlene’s apprehension through Devin, as well as his pride in her constitution. Yes, Devin, knew Jacque Montague was a vampire. An old one from the power the man exuded, perhaps as old as Damien was. More importantly,

Montague was an unattached vampire without a mate who was looking very interested in Charlene even after the man had scented Devin’s mark upon her. Yet his identify was unfamiliar to Devin and apparently to his brothers also, as they offered no information. He never should have been complacent. “She is not safe in this world as a human. Take Lucius and collect your mate, Devin.” An eerie silence followed Damien’s words. Did his brother know something he was not sharing? Anxiety sprung from Devin as he burst from the cave and into the night. “Bring her over—do it tonight,” Damien added with a hint of desperation. “Only then will I join you.” So that was the crux. Damien—his own brother—was the danger. Devin was about to address the issue with Damien when Charlene screamed. Instead of helping her to her chair, Montague steered her toward the door leading outside. Devin’s growl burst through her head and echoed in her ears. She was in big trouble. Devin was angry and he was on his way. Charlee realized too late that they were no longer in the restaurant. The night air was cool as she lay against Montague’s warm, firm chest. He was whispering something in her ear, an endearment as his hands began to caress the part of her ass exposed by the rise of her dress and beneath his palm. Stacy’s torn neck flashed in her head. Fear and panic manifested so quickly that her struggle came naturally as she struck out with both fists. Her gun was on the table inside her purse. She was helpless. A scream rose in her throat. Gently Montague pressed his lips to Charlee’s forehead. “Hush, firecat. You are safe with me.” The minute he set her on her feet, she stumbled backward, striking something hard and unyielding behind her. She turned, fists raised, stopping in midair as Devin caught her wrists in his hands. Fire shot from his eyes as he glared past her at Montague. His face was stone cold and menacing. His chest expanded beneath the silk shirt he wore. A vein ticked in his neck. Charlee’s gaze snapped from Devin’s to Montague. Montague was unaffected by Devin’s anger. He sighed heavily. “You should not tease your pet in such a public place if you do not want her touched.” An animalistic growl rumbled from Devin’s throat. His rage was such that he trembled. Caught in his grip, Charlee tried to break loose, which only increased Devin’s fury. He swung her around and behind him. Slowly the two men began to study one another. The sight was frightening and thrilling at the same time. They were like two tigers, sleek, predatory and dangerous. Montague grinned, his teeth pearly white against the night. Charlee thought she saw a glimpse of incisors. She took a step and Devin’s face came into view. He hissed—a sound so eerily like a snake it sent a shiver up her spine. People were gathering around, but neither man appeared to notice. Then,

stepping out from the crowd was the young, blond man who Charlee now knew as Lucius. The same man to whom only moments ago she’d given mental head. He flashed a devilish grin as he strolled toward her, walking straight past the two posturing men. In an eloquent move, he gathered her hand into his, bent over it and, for the second time in one night, she had a man kiss her hand. Only Lucius’s touch didn’t make her skin crawl. When their eyes met, she saw a twinkle spark. “It’s a pleasure to welcome you to the family, Charlene.” He mouthed “thank you”, sending another wave of heat across her face. He knew her. She had no idea who he was except he had a birthmark shaped like a star below the head of his cock. Eyes agape, her palm covered her mouth. Lucius chuckled, leaned into her so his breath filtered across her face. “I was born with it.” Shit. Shit. Shit. The damn man could read her mind too. The laughter died and his face grew stern as he faced Devin and Montague. “Now is not the time for this,” he said firmly. “Listen to your sibling,” Montague said without taking his eyes off Devin. Sibling? Do Montague and Devin know each other? Charlee wondered. “You scented my mark upon her and still you pursued her,” Devin accused. Montague’s gaze darted to Charlee and he grinned, puckering his lips as if blowing her a kiss, which only infuriated Devin more and elicited another growl. Lucius placed his hand on Devin’s biceps. “Not here. Not now.” For the love of God, what was going on? There was an understanding among the three men that went right over Charlee’s head. Surely they didn’t know each other? The thought sent a shiver up her spine. The entire night had been a bust. With Devin here, there was no way she’d find out what she needed to from Montague. It might have sounded like a stupid plan, but she’d thought if she could push Montague to act, possibly attack her, he would say something that would lead her to evidence to solve Stacy Benton’s murder—but not now. “Well, there is enough testosterone in the air to fail a steroid Breathalyzer. I’ m out of here.” Charlee pivoted and left. Rounding the building, she headed for the parking lot when she heard a muffled scream. She ran toward the sound and froze in her steps. Gloria was laying upon the asphalt, a man hovering over her. When the man turned to look at Charlee, blood covered his features, a wild expression on his face. It was Montague and his eyes were as cold as death.

Chapter Nine

Charlee’s battle cry echoed through the small alcove as she attacked. She swung a right. Her fist stopped, caught in Montague’s large palm. He laughed, his smirk cruel and taunting as he picked her up, then threw her like a rag doll against a large metal trash receptacle. Thud. She hit so hard it literally knocked her out of her shoes. Not to mention the air from her lungs as it gushed from her mouth in a single rush. Dazed, Charlee shook her head. Her gaze cut to her friend crumpled on the ground. Gloria wasn’t moving. Her legs were sprawled carelessly. Her chest didn’t move. Dark, rich blood draped her neck, seeping into the green dress she wore that was now high on her hips. Fury rose hot and angry. A sharp pain ripped through Charlee’s ribcage. Her eyes widened. She clutched her side and released a cry as she pushed herself upright, desperately fighting dizziness. All the while, the creature before her approached, sliding across the ground without steps. Surrounding her with a cloud of danger, thick and suffocating. She fought to breathe. Back on her feet, a small distance from him, she attacked. But this time she kept away from powerful hands that had fingernails twisted and formed into sharp talons. With a single foot, she dipped, sweeping the man’s legs. He went down hard. She jumped back up, bobbing and weaving, ignoring the pain in her side as she readied to throw a punch. In a blur of motion, Montague was back on his feet. Long, pointy canine teeth piercing his bottom lip added to the eeriness of his appearance. Canines? Charlee had only seen incisors like that a couple of times—while watching a black and white vampire flick. He hissed, making a sound similar to what she heard come from Devin earlier. She couldn’t think clearly. Hadn’t she left Montague playing he-man games with Devin? But as the demon approached, Charlee had to doubt her sanity. Gone was the handsome, magnetic personality. A sneer curled his thin lips, soulless eyes burned into her, and the fucker had fangs. Honest to God fangs that extended too far for his lips to hide. His face was covered in blood—Gloria’s blood. The thought tightened Charlee’s stomach. She ducked, barely missing the swipe of his hand, so close that air ruffled her shoulder-length blonde hair. His laugh vibrated through the air and felt like razor-sharp fingernails slicing a path down Charlee’s back. She fought to think—to understand all that was happening. The only thing clear in her mind was that Gloria was hurt, maybe even dying. Charlee needed to get past this animal and to her friend’s side. Again he moved with a blurring speed, so fast she found herself imprisoned in his arms. His hot, foul breath burned across her face. He glared down at her with red eyes that screamed death. Struggle was futile the way he had her locked in his embrace. A small moan of terror escaped Charlee as he tightened his grip, squeezing like an anaconda. The pounding of footsteps made the monster whirl around. His movements were quick. She felt dizzy when he swung her along with him. Again, he released a gush of air that sounded like a coiled snake ready to spring, but this

time his eyes dilated with something dark and sinister. His voice was low as he looked into Charlee’s eyes, “We will meet again and when we do, you will become my mate…or die.” His warm, wet tongue licked a path up her cheek, making the bile percolating in her stomach start to rise. Acid filled her throat. The demon exploded into action, releasing her. It happened so quickly that she lost her balance, swayed and fell, her bare ass meeting the asphalt. As she went down, Charlee thought she saw Gloria move. Glancing back at where the man had stood, her eyes widened in disbelief. He was gone. As if by magic Montague had disappeared into the night. “Gloria,” Charlee wailed as she began to pull herself up on hands and knees. Pebbles and debris scraped and tore at her palms and legs, her toes skidding over the unyielding black tar. Her dress was skewed, twisted at the waist. Her shoes were missing. Nothing mattered but getting to Gloria. When she finally reached her friend, Charlee’s voice trembled as she said, “Gloria, speak to me.” Blood, so much blood. Charlee’s palms hovered above Gloria. She was afraid to touch her—afraid not to. A picture of Stacy’s mangled throat flickered in her head as she looked down at the angry wound in Gloria’s throat. Charlee knew her friend couldn’t live with such a horrible wound, still she pressed her hand to the gaping skin oozing Gloria’s life essences. Her friend’s once immaculate hair was now ratted and knotted, hiding one side of her face. Her eyes were closed. Her lips thin and strained. Gentle hands touched Charlee’s shoulders. She startled, turning with tears in her eyes to meet Devin. “Let me see what I can do,” he offered. Fear and emotion allowed him to guide her out of the way. He bent and felt for a pulse in Gloria’s wrist. The lowering of his lashes before he returned his gaze to Charlee’s spoke loudly. Gloria was dying. Shrieks from the throng that arrived were deafening. Still, Charlee heard a dark voice that invaded her head and pushed through the sadness and anger clouding her mind. “Save her, Devin. She must not die.” There was a quiet desperation to Damien’s voice as he mind-spoke. Devin gazed into the dark sky. “I don’t know if I can” The voice vibrating in Charlee’s head sounding distant and desperate insisted, “You must. She is my mate. Convert her now or I am lost.” “Lucius.” Charlee followed where Devin looked among the crowd. It was the blond man who had kissed her hand, thanked her for the mind-blowing head-job. And beside him was Montague. It was reactionary. Charlee sprung to her feet and charged. Montague was ready for her as his arms folded around her and he drew her into his embrace. “You fucking animal.” Spittle flew from Charlee’s mouth as she struggled against the man who had attacked Gloria. Every breath was an effort. Surely she had broken a rib or two. Adrenaline pumped so wildly through her veins that her head ached.

“No, ma cherie. It was not I.” Montague’s warm brown eyes met her teary ones. He held nothing but concern in his worried expression. Liar. No. Not this time. She would not underestimate Montague. Her struggles started anew. Montague harrumphed as she caught his knee with her toes. Pain splintered up her foot, her leg. His grip tightened closing her breathing off until she had no choice be to stop fighting him. “Lucius, take care of the crowd.” Devin’s demand was short and terse. “Get Charlene and take her home.” Charlee’s heart was pounding so hard it felt like war drums before battle. She had never felt such hate, such fury before in her lifetime. She glared face to face at a demon who, instead of matching her rage, gazed down upon her with regret. He looked almost weary, the tension burrowing his forehead, causing little wrinkles. Gone was the blood that had coated his face. Gone were the sharp talons and fangs. He was as pristine as the moment she had met him earlier this evening. How could that be? Still, if Charlee could get her hands around the man’s neck, she would kill him and not think a second thought about it. “Do not fight me, Miss Madison.” He attempted to soothe her with his gentle tone. She felt the pull of his voice ripping her wrath from her. She fought to hold on to her anger. She needed to destroy Montague. The police would believe her now. She had witnesses—a whole parking lot of them. Besides if Gloria died, she wouldn’t need the police. Montague would be a dead man, because she’d kill him herself. Her fury was distracted when the oddest thing happened. The cries and screams that had followed the crowd surrounding them disappeared. People languidly rambled about looking dazed, their eyes glassy, as if they didn’t understand why they were outside. It was as if they’d forgotten that Gloria lay in a pool of blood. Not to mention that Montague held Charlee trapped within his arms. “You! Hey you, buddy!” Charlee shouted to a man passing by. But the large man dressed in jeans and a T-shirt continued on, oblivious to her struggles. Not even Devin or the man he called Lucius came to her rescue. In fact, Lucius held his hands high in the air, eyes pinned on the crowd. His expression was intense, as if he were somehow adding to their confusion or praying to the heavens. Slowly, the people began to drift away. One and then another went back to the restaurant, back to their cars until only she, Lucius, Montague, Devin and Gloria remained. “Let me go,” Charlee growled as she wiggled in Montague’s embrace, trying to sense a break in his strength. Fat chance. “Not unless you promise not to attack me.” He searched her face looking for…what? A promise that she would not revenge her friend and Stacy? The man was a murderer. She would make no promise to such a creature. “I see that you can not give me such a promise.” “Hell no. You killed Stacy Benton. You attacked my friend. She may be dying as we speak.” She glanced at Gloria. Devin held her so close it looked like

he was kissing her. “Devin, we need an ambulance.” Charlee’s gaze cut sharply back to Montague. For a moment, she considered head butting the bastard. Instead, she put all her energy into breaking his hold. “Let me go, you son of a bitch.” His arms tightened around her again, stealing air from her lungs. Montague trapped her gaze with his own. He said nothing, but she swore she could see regret in his eyes. “Charlene.” It was Lucius who addressed her as Montague loosened his grip. He sucked in a breath, before he started to explain. “It was not Montague who attacked you or your friend.” He nodded to Montague and the man released her. But not before both of the damn men took a good look at her ass shining beneath the full moon like one of its own glittering stars. She jerked the red silk that now looked like wrinkled cotton down over her bottom and tried to retrieve whatever decency she had left. “I saw him,” Charlee insisted, fingers curling into fists, her body tensing ready to strike. “No, my sister. Your eyes have deceived you. Montague was with us the entire time. Devin did not—would not—allow him out of his sight.” Charlee jerked her gaze from one man to the other. “It is true, Miss Madison. I am not at fault for what happened to your friend, nor Stacy Benton. Stacy and I shared time together, but I did not harm her.” It crushed Charlee to see the truth in Montague’s eyes, but it was there. Suspicion raised its ugly head. Perhaps he hired a double to throw her off track. No. She would not readily erase Montague from her list of suspects. Actually, her only suspect. There had been a witness who saw Montague with Stacy before she died. Yet Montague had been out of the state when Stacy had been killed. He had proof, people’s testimonies that had discredited the witness. The witness must have been wrong. Damn. Nothing made sense, because Charlee would have sworn it was Montague she fought in the parking lot. This attack was eerily similar in nature. However, she was the witness this time. And she had seen Montague. “It’s time to go.” Charlee turned to the sound of Devin’s voice. He held Gloria in his arms. She was pale white. A strangled cry left Charlee’s mouth. Her friend was dead. “No, Charlene, she is resting, but we must hurry I need to put her to ground…uh, bed.” Although Devin spoke to her mind, she said aloud, “She needs a hospital. We need to call the police.” “Thank you, brother.” Again Damien’s voice invaded her head. There was a tinge of relief in those three words. “It was my pleasure to secure your lifemate, Damien.” After Devin responded, his gaze jerked to Charlee’s, guilt written all over his face. But why? She was so confused. “Devin, Gloria needs a doctor, a hospital.” Odd. But it looked as if Devin had successfully cleaned the wound on Gloria’s neck and without any medical supplies. In fact, it almost looked like he had pressed the torn edges together and they were holding, mending.

“Do not worry, ma petite. Your friend will be okay in a couple of days.” “Devin, are you a doctor?” Charlee asked, remembering she knew nothing about this man. “Yes, in a way he is,” Lucius responded, receiving a frown from Devin. Okay, nothing for the moment made sense. Still, she couldn’t allow Devin to take Gloria to his house. She needed a doctor and quick. No sooner did Charlee have the thought than a powerful mental wave washed over her, swamping her. Her knees buckled, but she remained standing. It was that damn mind control thingy Devin had previously worked upon her. She felt lethargic and sleepy. With all she had, she fought it. “Stop, Devin,” she screamed, fighting the drooping of her eyelids. But somehow she knew there were more men than Devin in her head forcing unconsciousness upon her. She heard their voices, felt their push as her knees gave this time and someone’s arms folded around her. Devin’s regret was overwhelming, but he didn’t have time to explain to Charlene the danger her friend was in if she didn’t get to ground soon. She needed the healing soil to mend her wounds. She required the calmness of the earth, so she woke free of fear that could paralyze her otherwise. “Your woman—she is obstinate.” Devin didn’t need Damien belaboring the point. Yes, Charlene was stubborn. Even though it frustrated him, it was also a quality of pride with him. She was a fighter for justice, a fighter for what she felt was right. “You must take hold of her now. Convert her, Devin, while she sleeps.” Lucius looked a little too comfortable holding Charlene for Devin’s liking. His brother’s hand was resting way too close to her ass. He thought to exchange women, let Lucius carry Charlene’s friend, but that would be petty. Instead, he glanced at Montague gazing upon them with interest. “She is your brother’s lifemate? As Miss Madison is yours?” Montague asked. “Yes.” Devin shifted Gloria in his arms. His brother would definitely appreciate the statuesque brunette. Even after all she had gone through he could clearly see her beauty, feel her shapely curves. His thoughts fostered a growl from Damien and a chuckle from Lucius. “Then I apologize for the attack.” Montague offered without blinking an eye. “This is somehow your doing?” Anger surfaced in unison from all three brothers. It rose into the air forming a cloud around them. Even from as far away as Damien was, Devin felt his power surge and Montague’s counter attack. “You misunderstand. No, I did not call upon the attack. I express regret that it happened.” The electricity in the air crackled, before a final pop sounded and all four men disarmed their energy. The smell of spilled blood and particles burning in the atmosphere left a lingering stench. Apprehension slithered beneath Devin’s skin. Montague’s sympathy appeared genuine, too genuine for him not to know something about the attack. And what bothered Devin more was the fact that there was a deranged vampire on the loose. And he had Charlene’s scent. No way could Devin let her out of his sight now.

“Then complete the conversion.” This time it was both brothers expressing their opinion in unison to Devin. Neither Charlene nor her friend would be safe from this rogue vampire. Devin felt Damien’s anger grow, heard the beat of his wings as he cut through the sky making haste. Fact was either he or Damien would have to erase the danger, which meant another vampire would fall beneath his hand or Damien’ s. Without another word, both Devin and Lucius took form, casting a spell of invisibility to shield them from human eyes. Great winged birds, talons easing around each woman in their care and drawing them close to their soft undercarriage as large wings carried them up into the night sky. While Gloria slept peacefully, Devin could see Lucius was having a hell of time staying airborne with the fitful sleep Charlene was in. Devin knew it was only Charlene fighting their invasion in her mind. There was something special about her. Something different that allowed her to bend and shape and weaken his commands. “Your woman is a hellcat and difficult to hold on to.” Lucius’s frustration sparked in Devin’s head. He released an uneasy chuckle. Easy or not, he had every intention of holding on to her. She would have to see things from his point of view for her own safety, and that included his reasons for bringing her into his world, with or without her consent. By the time Devin settled Gloria safely beneath the soil, the moon was beginning to dip in the sky. The stars above were diminishing, yet he heard the beat of Damien’s wings, strong and determined. The man was making a mad dash to greet his lifemate, a fact that brought Devin peace of mind, but not if Damien pushed too hard and was trapped by the light of day. Do not worry, brother. The time difference between us will allow me to travel for another hour before I seek my rest. I ask you to look over my mate until I arrive. Hope lingered in Damien’s voice. A hope that had been absent for many, many years. Now if only Lucius could find his other half, Devin could stop worrying. Lucius’s mischievous laugh echoed telepathically. “Worry not, big brother. I am not ready to settle down, strapped by a mate. There are too many women who require my attention for now.” He joked, but Devin knew the truth. True fulfillment could only be obtained through bonding with your soul mate. “Yeah, wait until this little one wakes and she discovers you have converted her friend into a vampire.” Again, Lucius chuckled. “You will not know a moment of silence.” And for once, Damien joined Lucius in laughter. A sound so foreign, yet so heart wrenching that Devin, too, laughed. “Your petite guerrier is tucked snuggly into bed.” Lucius had placed Charlene once again in the room she had become accustomed to. Perhaps accustomed was not the right word. Familiar was more appropriate. Millie had barred the door and a lock placed on the French doors shortly after Charlene had escaped. She will not escape me again . But somehow, Devin didn’t feel all that

confident.

Chapter Ten The pressure and weight were unbearable. It was like being held beneath water and struggling to reach the surface for that lifesaving breath of air. Charlee fought to climb out of the fog holding her down. Her mind was an intricate network of winding pathways. Yet some were more like blind alleys with no way out, others seemed to go on forever. Dammit. She only needed that one trail that would lead her out of this haze. Scents were the first things to break through her consciousness. Masculine and familiar, the scent began to chisel away at the block of resistance she stood before. She could see the mist begin to dissipate, feel freedom approaching as the veil began to lift. Next was touch. A warm hand stroked her thigh, cupped her ass, and gave a light squeeze. Moist lips nuzzled her neck, creating magnetic currents to radiate through her breasts and pucker her nipples into tight nubs. A light pressure against her lips encouraged them to open. When she did, something warm and wet slipped between them. The erotic kiss turned hungry, savoring and delighting her in return. Movement returned as she slipped her arms around her phantom lover, drawing him closer, deeper into her mouth. Tongues dueled and teeth meshed as the kiss became more than a dream. A low, virile moan awoke her hearing. The sounds of a fan whirling caressed her ears. Her eyelashes fluttered and sight brought a naked and most definitely aroused Devin to the forefront. He lay on his side beside her, hard and ready. His body a veritable feast as her gaze stroked his curves and muscles she ached to touch. His provocative smile was like silk moving across her flesh, heating her blood and causing a rush of moisture to dampen her thighs. “You’re awake.” His knuckles skimmed her jaw as he took in every feature of her face, almost as if he were cataloging them. “Beautiful.” The reverence in his voice hit a mark somewhere around her heart. His golden eyes were filled with affection. No one had ever looked at her that way. It made her feel special, like a fine piece of art to be cherished and loved. She harrumphed. The man was good. Charlee had to hand it to him. On a scale from one to ten, Devin rated a twelve in seduction. No way was she going to allow him to finagle her into his web, trapping her so that she couldn’t think or speak. Haughtily, she raised a brow. But her bravado disappeared when his fingers

parted her labia, probing gently, encouraging her legs to part on their own accord. With a simple touch, her brow melted back into place and her hips rose to meet his caress. Male satisfaction came in a low chuckle. He kissed her again, tenderly, a light touch that caused blood to rush to every part of her body, confusing her senses. As his fingers slipped in and out of her pussy, she couldn’t think or speak… He had done it to her again. He left her with nothing to do but feel his hands, his lips across her skin. “Ohhhh…” She hummed in concert with her body as she released her juices onto his palm. “You are so wet, ma petite. Wet and warm and ready.” His voice was soft, mesmerizing and hypnotic. Skillful fingers thrust firmly and then lightly traced her folds before circling her clit. Thrust, tickle and circle over and over again. The warring sensations, hard then soft, sent a tingle to her belly that tightened and convulsed. “Do you want me to fuck you, petite guerrier?” The heaviness in her breasts thickened. Her pulse soared. The damn man was stealing her breath along with her control. “Yes.” It came out more as a plea than a whisper. Again, he flashed a seductive smile. Liquid gold eyes burned into her chest and smoothed across her breasts, down her abdomen as he slipped between her thighs. He gazed up at her over her mons before dipping to taste. Strong fingers circled her ankles, drawing her legs up, splaying her wider for his quiet takeover. Velvet-soft fingers explored while his tongue did delicious things to her body. Lick. Nip. Suck. Charlee felt her insides turn to fire as he thrust his tongue deep inside, ravishing her folds, before flicking her clit several times. The results were quick jerks as flames licked her womb. Hands on her hips stilled her, held her in place, as he continued his sweet, sweet attack. He moaned, sending the most exquisite vibration through her body. Her pussy clenched. Her breaths were small pants of need. Higher and higher he sent her spiraling. Charlee trembled, caught in the build of desire she felt from her head to her curled toes. Like a pin to balloon, she splintered, shooting cold and hot sensations to every nerve—every limb. Acute sensitivity rolled in waves, raw and clinging. He continued to suck, feasting on her flesh, taking her to where heaven and hell met. Her fingers pushed against his dark bobbing head. “Stop.” Gasp. “Oh, God, stop.” A shiver shook her from somewhere deep in her core. With each swipe of his tongue, her hips rose. “I can’t take any more.” She thrashed her head side to side. “Puleeezzz.” The man between her thighs was relentless. She’d never been pushed this hard—this far. Another climax struck without mercy, throwing her into the waters of oblivion. A place where darkness dwelled and senses took over. Hearing, smell, taste and touch were intensified. Something sharp pierced her below. She screamed as the discomfort morphed into such profound pleasure that the breath she inhaled stuck in her throat. The smell of copper filled her nose, so vivid she thought she tasted

blood. Her skin felt paper-thin and delicate. Every move, every touch, heightened beyond belief. Then he released his hold and she floated down from the clouds, drifting like a feather on a gentle breeze, slowly, an unearthly calm surrounding her as she gazed down at him. Blatant hunger glowed in his eyes, so all-consuming he quivered as he crawled toward her and covered her body with his. His flesh was hot, sliding over her skin. “Mine.” The timber of his voice was coarse and absolute. His tongue swept her mouth, a declaration of pure possession. “No.” She forced the retort through lips that said something different. Her breasts tingled. The ache that had subsided below began to spread throughout again. His hard erection pressed between her thighs, parting her slit, resting in her cradle. His pulse sped through his fingertips, throbbing, beating out a rhythm as he ground his hips. “Mine.” His voice vibrated against her throat, sounding amused. “Never.” It was a useless attempt at defiance. If Devin promised to fuck her like before, she’d sell her soul to the devil. The buzz in her head and body was too much to ignore. He did things to her only a god should be able to do. He raised his hips and plunged forward, invading her body with a single thrust. The feeling was exquisite. She arched, her back coming off the bed, as a cry ripped from her lips. Lightning shot through her like a live wire had been inserted instead of his cock. Her fingers splayed wide and gripped his shoulders, desperately grasping hold of firm, taut flesh. “Say that you’re mine.” He crushed his hips to hers. Sweet punishment. One made to stimulate, but also to seek submission. And lordy, lordy, the man was succeeding. “Say you’re mine,” he demanded, doing something with his pelvis that made her bury her fingernails into his back. “Fuck me,” she breathed. Heat built in his eyes until they looked like pools of liquid gold under glass. “Are you mine?” His voice dipped dangerously low. There was something powerful in his tone, an aura of mystery and darkness. Her skin felt too tight. Commitment sucked. No way would she sign away her independence, turn herself over to his keeping. Although her body craved him, he was a stranger. Liar, rang throughout her head. Okay. There was a bond between them. A weird and wonderful bond, but there was no way she could have fallen so quickly for him. Try as she might, she was trapped in his spell. Her trembling fingers threaded through his black hair, sliding down the nape of his neck, before drawing him closer. “Yes,” she whispered as their lips touched. She was his. Devin had already taken her blood during her last climax—it lingered on his tongue, sang through his veins. All that was left was for her to receive his. He thought to coerce her with mind control as Damien and Lucius urged him to do, but he wanted, no, needed, something more from her. Why her consent meant so much to him, he didn’t know—it simply did. Gently, he broke their kiss. His cock was hard, buried deep within her warmth. He fought the will to reach fulfillment, needing to feel his orgasm flood

over him as she received his gift of immortality. Devin eased up, straightening his elbows to hover above her. “Charlene, we need to talk.” She squirmed beneath him. Her eyelids fluttered before she pulled her brows inward. “What?” Her frown revealed her confusion. Soft warm hands rested on the cheeks of his ass. “You want to talk now?” She arched into him, taking him deeper, while she applied pressure with her palms, holding him to her. A flirtatious grin curled her lips. She wiggled her hips. “How about we fuck now—talk later?” “No. There is something I need to tell you, ask you.” “Déjà vu!” She jerked her hands away, planting them squarely against his chest. “The last man who said that to me was married, which only reinforces my thinking about men who appear too good to be true—you guys usually aren’t.” Her chin rose slightly. “So, what, was I an easy fuck until the missus gets home?” She looked over his shoulders as if she half-expected someone to enter the room. “Where is she—out shopping?” “No.” He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his mouth. She shoved against his chest, showing an unexpected display of strength and anger. “Vacationing with a friend?” She shifted, trying to expel him from her. “Get off me.” The grit in her words was hard to miss. She thought he’d played her as a fool. “I’m not married.” “What?” Her struggle ceased, her hands resting lightly against his chest. “Not married.” She studied his face. “Engaged?” “Not married. Not engaged. Not human,” he added. Her body tensed. She pummeled his chest with her fists and then dropped them to her sides. “Funny. Not human. If you want me to go, just say it.” Sarcasm lowered her voice. “Get off me and I’ll leave,” she growled. From the corner of his eye, he could see her other hand balled into a fist awaiting the opportunity to swing. With lightning speed, he grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the bed. Her eyes widened. “What the fuck? You crazy son of a bitch. Let me go and I ’ll get out of here.” Then she paled. “Where’s Gloria? What have you done with Gloria?” “Gloria is safe.” “Yeah right, buddy.” She fought to gain her freedom, curling her fingernails so they bit into his hand. She locked her legs around him. Her eyes flashed an icy blue. He shook her wrists. “Charlene, listen to me.” The death grip her thighs had around him almost made him laugh, because it spread her wider, pushing him deeper inside her warm heat. Charlene’s chest rose and fell quickly with anger that now had a tinge of fear for her friend. “Charlene, the man that you seek, the one that attacked your friend, is not human.” She frowned, using sarcasm to hold on to her bravo. “No fuck, Sherlock.” “He is a vampire.” Unbelievable laughter burst from her lips. “And you are what? A werewolf?

Or a ghost? Wooo…” The puff of air she released brushed across his chest. “No. I, too, am a vampire.” Again, she shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Well, goodie-goodie.” She wiggled her hips, making his cock harden further. “Looks like I’ve just raised the dead.” Even through her courage, her emotions shone through eyes the misty blue of an ocean. Eyes to a soul that hid nothing and easily revealed her anger, fear and sadness. Sadness? He struggled to understand this new emotion. “You don’t believe in vampires?” “No,” she stated emphatically. “I don’t believe in ghosts, werewolves, or any other things that go bump in the night. These attacks are due to a deranged man—human—one that walks the earth breathing, but shouldn’t. A man— nothing more, nothing less. Now let me go.” He slipped out from between her legs, holding himself above her, resting his weight on his palms. “Stubborn woman.” Clearly, she would not believe him until he displayed his powers. He called upon his incisors, stroking his tongue over his teeth, feeling the throb, the ache as they lengthened. They dropped, pushing from between his lips. “Shit!” She said nothing more as her eyes gaped wider. For several heartbeats, she lay perfectly still. Her surprised gaze riveted on his fangs. Devin hadn’t known what to expect. Hysteria? Not from his woman. But a curse and nothing more left him speechless. What else could he do to convince her? Shape-shift? Do a tap-dance and then disappear? When she finally spoke, her voice was calm. “Okay.” She breathed deeply. “Let me see if I’ve got this right.” She held out her index finger between them and tapped it lightly with her other one. “One, vampires are real. Those pearly whites jutting from your mouth are real.” She kept her eyes glued to his incisors. She extended another finger. “Two, we have the scenario of good witch —bad witch with vampires. You—” she laid a warm palm on his chest, “—are a good witch…uh…vampire.” He nodded and an ebony curl caressed his forehead. “Damn you’re good-looking. Focus, Charlee, focus—serious business going on here.” He heard her thoughts as she continued, “Uh…yes…two—” She stopped abruptly. “Damn you,” she growled into his mind. “Get the fuck out of my head.” She took a breath. Her shoulders drew back as if to steady herself. “The one that attacked Gloria—killed Stacy Benton—is a bad vampire.” He nodded and leaned in for a kiss. An outstretched palm to his chest stopped him. “No, you are not going to seduce me.” He raised a brow, arrogantly. “Shut up,” she growled. “I didn’t say anything, ma petite,” he said innocently. “Three…” She paused. An uneasy chuckle left her mouth on an exhale. “You think I’m your lifemate.” Suddenly her eyes sprung wide. “Holy shit! If this is true I fucked the living dead.” She moved quickly, slipping from beneath him and through his arms as she slid off the bed. Within seconds, she stood before him. “No-no-no,” she said, shaking her head with determination. “Can’t be happening.” She began to pace the floor then stopped in the center of the room. A visible shiver shook her.

“Too many weird and unexplained things have happened,” she whispered to herself as if she tried to convince herself she wasn’t crazy. “I saw his teeth.” Somehow, Devin knew she didn’t mean his, but the vampire who had attacked Gloria. He reclined on his side upon the bed, in no hurry to withdraw his fangs. She had to see and accept him for what he was. His cock was hard, expressing his desire for her. Her gaze glanced from his incisors to his erection and his erection jerked in approval. She blinked hard. “Okay. Let’s say that all this is true.” She rubbed the back of her neck, then cupped her throat. Vampires drink blood—bite necks. She snapped her gaze to him. “Did you bite me?” Before he could speak she continued, her thoughts again a maze of concerns. “These fireworks between us are an illusion. The attraction I feel is an illusion?” She released a weighted breath as if relieved. “You bewitched me. You bit me.” “Yes—no.” He stumbled on his words as he slipped off the bed to his feet. Her face rushed with heat as her anger grew. “Which is it, buster?” she demanded. Hands on her hips, she dared him to lie. He took a step toward her, holding out his hand. “Ma petite, I have not bewitched you. You are my mate. Our bodies recognize that we are meant to be together.” “Harrumph.” She released her disbelief in one breath. “You did bite me?” She stumbled backwards, but he caught her by the wrists. She raised her eyes to him, fear alive in them. “Am I tainted? Oh my god, is Gloria infected?” She pressed her eyelids closed. “Man-oh-man-oh-man.” Her eyes popped open accusingly. “That’s what you were doing to Gloria. You bit her.” “Tainted? Infected? I’m a vampire not a leper.” He released her wrists and eased away from her, refusing to accept the pain her words caused. She remained standing, unmoving, as he began to pace. To know she found him nothing more than a disease twisted his gut. “But you’re not human.” He felt her words like a sledgehammer to the chest. He whipped around and pinned her with a scowl, unable to mask the disappointment in his voice. “Does avoiding daylight or feeding on blood make one soulless, evil, unworthy of compassion? We walk among humans, respect them, care and protect them.” “You feed off them like cattle. And protect?” She moved further away from him, using her arms to cover her nakedness. An act that hurt more than he would allow her to know. “Who protected Stacy Benton? Or Gloria for that matter?” Fuck, this isn’t working. He turned his back to her. The sound was soft, a slight disturbance in the air, as she drifted away. He could sense her anxiety, knew she headed toward the door. In a lightning move, he turned and dashed across the room. His fingers shackled her wrists as he pulled her to him. There was no softness or gentleness in his touch, not in his body, not in his mind. “The vampire by nature is a dark, dangerous predator. We need blood to exist, but we do not need to take life to obtain it. We only kill those that threaten our survival.” He was through giving her freedom of choice. She needed to know her fate.

She flinched and attempted to pull from his grasp. “A mate is required to balance our other half. Since there is only one true lifemate for each vampire, he can choose to meet the dawn and end his life or slip into the beast of your fairytales. That is what has become of the creature you saw at the restaurant tonight.” He waited for her to show understanding. Instead, all he saw was determination, a resolve to escape him. His grip tightened on her wrists. “Without his mate, he lives in an abyss, a void, always searching. In desperation, he attempts to convert any woman who attracts him. This is what happened to Stacy Benton and Gloria… And now he has your scent.” He felt fear shudder through her, smelled the raw scent, even tasted its bitterness. Devin continued, “You, Charlene, are my mate.” Her pupils dilated. She tensed beneath his hands and swallowed, hard. “I did not choose you. Fate has brought us together.” Yes, fate had brought them together, but she was everything Devin could have dreamt of. Strong, confident and sexy as hell. The thought made his cock grow rigid, his testicles filled with desire. “You belong to me, as I belong to you.” Nervous perspiration beaded her brow. She ran her tongue over dry lips. He could see she fought to speak, to rationalize what he was saying. “I can’t be your mate.” Her voice sounded small, lost. He saw visions of two men in her mind, felt her love for them. Anger was Devin’s first reaction until he realized they were her brothers. A picture of the sun, its rays warming her skin, then a coffin. Cold, dark fear slithered through her mind. She could smell and taste the dirt, suffocating as it folded atop her. There was a silent scream in her mind. He had been afraid her experience in the cemetery would leave negative aftereffects. But he had to make her realize he was lost without her. “Perhaps you don’t understand. I have no life without you. We belong together. Can’t you feel it?” He shook her lightly. For the first time since he met Charlene, indecision waved in her moist eyes. She looked delicate, fragile. Her chin quivered as if she fought back tears. “No, I can’t. I can’t feel anything.” The sorrow in her eyes said differently. Fury rose from deep inside him. Why couldn’t she see what the alternative was? Within a short period, he had grown to care for her, need her. Without her, he was nothing more than a blemish on mankind to leave death and destruction in his path. “You will learn to care for me.” The sadness in his voice fanned the disappointment burning his insides. She would learn to live as a vampire lived. Unexpectedly he snarled, his white teeth gleaming dangerously. She jerked against his hold. Fear flashed in her eyes. She whimpered, and began to struggle. “I can’t breathe,” she choked. “Let me go.” Her eyes went wild, her mouth gaping as she tried to suck in air too fast. He reached out to calm her with his mind and felt Damien and Lucius’s strength join his. She quieted, whimpering lightly as she softened in his embrace. With one hand, he held her to his length, the other he brought to his mouth and tore his wrist open. Rich red blood spewed, flowing over his limb and upon the wooden floor.

“Drink.” He pushed his wrist to her mouth and gave her the command to feed. “Drink and feel my hot blood flow through your veins, uniting us.” Unbelievably she fought him. But her struggles were useless against his power and that of his brothers. As her mouth closed around his wrist, something in him snapped and he jerked his hand away, quickly wiping whatever blood she had on her full lips. A swipe of his tongue working with his healing saliva closed the wound on his wrist. He watched as the scar reddened and then faded away. “Devin, there is a problem?” Damien asked, his voice breathless as if he ran from the light of day. The rush of wind and the call of an owl seeped into Devin’ s head. “I can’t force her,” he admitted without shame. “It must be her choice to convert.” “Then Lucius will perform the conversion,” Damien said matter-of-factly. Anger so hot it hurt scorched Devin’s insides at the thought of one or both of his brothers dismissing his wishes. “I will kill anyone who touches her.” He left no doubt in either brother’s mind. He drew Charlene closer into his safety. Only she could seal her fate and his. He pressed his lips to her damp forehead. Love me, ma petite. Accept me for what I am. Yet he knew she struggled with more than accepting what he was. She was more afraid of what she would become and how she could live beneath the ground. For a moment, there was silence. The wind in Devin’s mind stilled, even the bird did not venture another call. Then Damien spoke, “It will be as you say, brother. Together we will protect her and keep her safe for you.” “I will protect her with my life ,” Lucius offered his oath freely. The rustle of wings sounded as Damien’s flight began again.

Chapter Eleven A sliver of light made its way through the slight part in the heavy curtains draping the French doors. Charlee stretched, then quickly curled into a ball, arms wrapped around her as she remembered last night, Gloria’s attack, Devin’ s admission. Vampire. What the hell had happened to reality? Things like this didn’t happen. This was shit straight out of Hollywood. A story made for the movies or a nightmare. She heard a sharp clattering sound, felt pressure build in her jaws, and realized she was shivering, her teeth chattering. In fast swipes, she rubbed her arms, then pulled the comforter up over her naked body to her neck, seeking warmth. Damn, girl, what have you gotten yourself into?

“Okay, James and Blake are going to freak when they hear what trouble I’ve managed to stir up.” She lay unmoving, staring at the ceiling, thoughts and fears flowing through her mind like an avalanche out of control. Her breath caught on an inhale. “Am I—” She swallowed hard. “—a vampire, too?” The thought turned her blood to ice. She could smell the musky scent of dirt. Her eyes hurt a little when she looked at the ray of light filtering through the room. She felt thirsty, even a little hungry. Of course, she didn’t eat very well last night. Swallowing hard, she threw back the covers and inched her way out of the bed until her feet touched the cool wooden floor. She looked determinedly toward the French doors. “Sunlight kills vampires,” she whispered and took a small step. Her heart made a thudding noise. She didn’t want to die, but knew she couldn’t live beneath the soil. Trapped. A shiver raced up her spine. She didn’t want to live never seeing the sun or feeling its warm glow across her body. Could she live off another’s blood, never to taste the sweet flavor of chocolate cake on her tongue or a frozen strawberry daiquiri slide down her parched throat? And what about Devin? Her trembling hands reached for the brocade curtains, felt their softness as her fingers curled into the fabric. With a quick movement, she threw open the drapes, clenching her eyes closed as sunlight flooded the room. A light glow tickled her nakedness. She inched one eye open, keeping the other firmly shut. The radiance burned her eye, making it water, but she wasn’t on fire. There was no burst of flames turning her into a pile of ash. She ventured the other eye open and released a giggle somewhere between relief and embarrassment. “Fuck, Charlee, your dreams are becoming stranger by the minute.” She pushed a heavy sigh from her lungs and yawned deeply. “Okay, girl, what was real and what wasn’t about last night?” She wanted to believe it was all fantasy, but she knew it wasn’t. Not by the intense expression on Devin’s face last night. Hell, his fangs were enough to convince her. She tried the handle of the door and found it locked. Trapped, was her first involuntary reaction. Next, heat raced up her neck, suffusing her cheeks. “Damn Devin. He’s locked me in here again.” She didn’t even need to try the door leading out into the hall because she knew it would be locked as well. And this time she didn’t have her gun. In fact, she had no idea where her little purse was. Everything happened so fast last night—it was all a blur. “Okay, how am I going to get out of here? And where is Gloria?” Thoughts of her friend made her uneasy, but she remembered Devin’s promise that she was all right. Charlee gazed around the room. Clothes would be nice. She walked over to the dresser and opened a drawer, taking out a little lacy bra and underwear to match. She slipped them on before opening the next drawer and taking out a pair of jeans and T-shirt in her size. Dressed, she finger combed her shoulder-length blonde hair and scanned the room once more for something that would help her escape. She smiled as her eyes landed on a desk. “Yes,” she hissed, moving toward it. After picking up a pen and a stapler, she turned toward the French doors. Barefooted, she padded across the room. Placing the pen beneath the first pin

of the door hinge closest to the floor, she gave the pen a whack with the stapler. The pin sprang halfway out of its casing. Another strike of the stapler against the pen and the pin moved high enough that Charlee could grasp it and wiggle it the rest of the way out. She repeated the same process, having slightly more trouble with the second pin than the first, but finally the door was free from the wall. With a grunt and a struggle, she pried the door loose, praying it was wide enough to slip through. Freedom came on a sweet, cool breeze that whipped around her body. The fragrance of chicory coffee and beignets frying rose to caress her nose, making her mouth water. Her stomach rumbled and she placed a palm against it. “No money,” she huffed. “I’ll have to wait until I get home before finding something to eat.” Like last time, she slipped off the balcony and into the big oak tree. Since she had done this once already, doing it again was a piece of cake. Cocky, she glided down the tree and onto the ground. Again, she felt that itch, a nagging sensation beneath her skin, telling her she shouldn’t be leaving. Only this time it was worse. Vertigo hit with a vengeance that knocked her off her feet and onto her knees. She fell to her palms, ducking her head, trying to dispel the dizziness. The weight on her chest felt like her heart was being ripped out. She thought of Devin, of not leaving him. Dammit! This isn’t real. None of this is real. He’ll be okay without me. After a moment, the sensation eased and she got to her feet. Cool grass tickled her toes as she began to head toward home. There was about an hour left of daylight and if she hurried, she’d make it without incident. No money meant no taxi. Without further delay, she began a fast pace down St. Ann’s passing Charters, then Royal. By the time she got to Bourbon and St. Ann’s, the chill of the night arriving made the sidewalk cold, numbing her feet. All around her people passed by, couples holding hands, tourists with their bags of treasures scurrying for cover before night fell on New Orleans. Charlee turned on Dauphine heading for St. Philip, then to Burgundy. She caught sight of her building as thoughts of Devin filtered into her mind. She thought of his touch and she smiled. Memories of his kiss made her breasts swell with desire. “Dammit. I’ve got things to do. I need to find Gloria.” Charlee bent and raised the gargoyle next to the back door and extracted the hidden key. She climbed the steps and placed her hand on the doorknob, positioning the key when the door swung inward, plunging her through the entrance and into the hall. “Shit.” She stumbled, trying to catch herself before doing a nosedive into the floor. Instead, a large hand circled her arm, dragging her upwards and hard against an imposing chest. “Blake!” Wide-eyed Charlee stared at her eldest brother. The oh-so-not-happy expression plastered on his dark features made her wish she’d stayed put, a captive in Devin’s house. “Where the hell have you been?” He growled, pulling her into a brotherly embrace and then releasing her just as fast. She wavered slightly, her shoulder bouncing against the wall. His good looks had become an angry mesh of disapproving lines. His blue eyes were cold as an icicle as he brushed a hand

through his dark auburn hair. “Uh… I—” Her fists thumped against her hips. “Dammit, Blake, I don’t owe you an explanation.” She lifted her chin not only out of stubbornness, but because the man stood six-three and she had to look up to meet his eyes. As usual he used his height to hover over her and bully her into obeying as he closed in on her. “Maybe not, but you’ll give it to me or I’ll haul your ass back to California.” He narrowed his eyes. She cocked a brow, ready to confront him. It would be just like Blake to try it. She looked around Blake’s impressive shoulders. “Where’s the other half of the gruesome-twosome?” She heard James’ laughter even before he turned the corner and entered the hall to stand next to Blake. “You wouldn’t be referring to me, dear sister?” The two of them shoulder to shoulder took up the entire breadth of the hallway. Damn men. She wouldn’t put it past them to physically take her back to California, kicking and screaming if need be. Still, she was an adult. Charlee resisted the urge to stomp her foot. Beneath heavy dark lashes, James shot her a look of warning. In a tempered voice he said, “Where have you been, Char?” He slowly wiped his large hands on a dishtowel. The man loved to cook. You wouldn’t believe it from a guy who stood six-two, was an undercover detective and a conglomerate of muscle and steel. Last time she had seen him, he had a pierced ear, had shaved his head, and had a golden beard and goatee. Today, he looked like your typical buff businessman in a suit, but he wasn’t smiling. “Char,” he repeated like he was reprimanding a bad child. Her jaw tightened. Heat stormed across her face. “You two are the most infuriating men I know. I’m not a child anymore. I’ll do what I want to.” Blake crossed his muscular arms over his broad chest. “Jacque Montague?” Fuck. Gloria must have told them what case she was working. No, her friend wouldn’t do that. “None of your business, Blake.” She tried to move past them, but together they were an impenetrable wall of flesh and bones, holding their ground. Her fingers curled into fists. She felt her pulse leap. How am I going to do what I need to with these two breathing down my neck? I have to find Gloria. But she knew if these two got involved Devin would be dragged into the scene. And for some unknown reason, she couldn’t believe Devin was guilty of anything, other than being a very irritating man—uh…vampire. She crooked her head and stared at the two scowling men she called her brothers. “You guys have been through my files.” They were good, but not that good. Charlee could see the quick shift of their eyes before they took on that innocent “who me” look. “I ought to shoot your asses.” She swung a balled-up fist at Blake, but he caught her hand in his large palm. She swung her other hand, this time catching air as Blake positioned his other palm on her forehead, keeping her at arm’s length. She felt like a new kid at school, the larger bully winning by mere strength as she punched nothingness. “Pack your stuff, pipsqueak. You’re going home,” Blake said firmly. He abruptly released her. She plunged forward straight into James’ arms. Enough

said, at least in Blake’s mind. He pivoted sharply, heading for her small kitchen. “After we eat, we’re catching a red-eye. Both James and I have to get back to work.” She jerked herself out of James’ grasp. His gaze danced with laughter. “No, wait. You don’t understand.” Shit. She was doing it again—explaining herself. Charlee grew quiet. “Understand what?” James asked as his amber eyes interrogated her without words. “Gloria—” Charlee choked then stifled the building emotion. Damn them for making her feel like she was their baby sister. She couldn’t tell her brothers what had happened over the last couple days. Hell, she didn’t understand it herself. Knowing these two, instead of going to California, she’d find herself in a straitjacket heading to the loonies’ bin. Blake casually strolled around the corner toward her, but there was nothing casual about the cool eyes that literally felt like they pinned her to the wall. “What about Gloria?” “Nothing.” She was quick to respond as both brothers began to descend upon her, hovering like dark clouds. She backed up bumping hard into the table that held her spare keys, which fell to the floor with a clunk. “Nothing. Really.” “Charlee?” Their deep voices rumbled together as James’ hand snaked out and gripped her by the wrist halting her escape. The sudden rattle of the doorknob snapped their attention past Charlee, over her shoulder. The door opened and Devin stalked in, his movements predatory. The lines and frown on his face said the man wasn’t happy. His glare was focused on James’ hand restraining Charlee. “Release her,” Devin growled, the coarse tone like silk pulled across a cactus. No one missed the unspoken threat. “Who the fuck are you?” Blake demanded. James’ hand flexed as he pulled her closer. He slid her behind him and Blake with such ease she hadn’t known he was doing it until her vision was blocked. Two broad backs were all she could see. “Charlene.” Charlee felt the pull as Devin spoke her name. It was like the ends of two magnets drawing her toward him. She tried to wiggle past her imposing brothers, but they held her securely behind them. “Charlee, do you know this man?” Blake reached slowly for the pistol tucked in the back of his pants. James followed suit. “Stop.” She tried to grasp the guns but was too late as they whipped them out of her reach. Blake’s and James’ abrupt movement opened a gap between the men. She saw they now had the guns pointed directly at Devin’s chest. She glanced up and saw Devin’s face. He smiled, but the air thickened as his gaze stroked the guns pointed at him. Then his vision landed on her and she shivered. “Charlene?” Devin’s voice dropped to a low murmur that set something to hum inside Charlee. Uneasiness filled her with visions of a panther, crouched and ready to spring. There was something dangerous and unsettling as he set his sight back on the men before him. “My brothers,” she cried, desperately needing to diffuse the situation.

“Devin, these are my brothers from California. Blake’s the one holding the forty-five and James the Glock. Uh… Boys, meet my main squeeze.” She laughed, trying to lighten the mood, but it came out all wrong. She slipped past her siblings and stood in front of them, between their guns. “Now, if we can put the weapons and attitudes away, perhaps we could breathe a little easier.” Blake and James made no moves to comply. Devin smiled and strolled forward and took her in his arms. Warm lips pressed to her forehead as he drew her against him. It was all a farce. Tension rippled through his palms and he held her a little too tight. Shit! He was angry. Slowly her brothers lowered their guns and slipped them back in place behind their backs. “It is a pleasure to meet you.” Devin extended his hand to Blake. Blake and James locked their glares with Devin’s, ignoring his outstretched greeting. Men could be infuriating, especially older brothers. “Dammit, Blake, shake Devin’s hand.” Charlee felt small wrapped in Devin’s arm, and a little apprehensive. The chuckle that left Devin’s mouth was light and warm, but his body was a mass of tense muscles and bones as he pulled back his hand. “It appears we are of the same mind to protect Charlene. But as you can see, she is perfectly safe with me.” He drew her even closer in an almost punishing hold. He didn’t need to say it, but the man was peeved at her escaping him yet again. “I should turn you over my knee and spank you.” “As if,” Charlee blurted, receiving two strange expressions from both brothers’ taut faces. “You should do more than that,” came a deep resonant voice she remembered from last night. “Damien, Charlene is mine to deal with,” Devin responded firmly. Charlee pulled from Devin’s hold with a firm push against his chest. “Okay, boys, I’ve had enough.” “Enough of what?” James asked. His furrowed brow screamed his concern for her. “Enough of—” She paused. Mind games, she spoke to herself, but she couldn’t tell James. Instead, she waved her arms through the air. “Enough of all of this.” She added, “And you and your invisible friend.” She sent the thought to Devin behind a mental frown. “Both of you get out of my head. And where is Gloria?” Devin reached out and stroked her arm. “She is rising as we speak.” The warm sensation filtering through Charlee’s body made her lean into him. He played with a strand of her hair, nuzzling his nose into the side of her throat. His warm breath teased the main artery in her neck. It throbbed with a sweet pain that had her arching toward his mouth. His teeth scrapped her skin sending a million goose bumps across her body. Shit! The man was a vampire. But, God, she loved the way he touched her, made her feel so cherished. “And I’ve had enough of this.” Blake pivoted. “You’re in time to say good-bye to Char. We’re taking her home.” He disappeared in the kitchen. James leaned against the wall. Arms crossed over his chest, legs crossed at

the ankles. He smiled as if awaiting the fireworks he knew would come next. Instead, Devin released her and, with confidence and a little arrogance, strolled past James and directly into the kitchen where Blake was setting the small wooden table for their dinner. Charlee scrambled past James and grabbed hold of the doorframe as she watched the two men grow larger within the small confines. James came up behind her. Devin leaned against the counter. Not a wrinkle of tension on his face, but the air again felt charged with his energy. “It is not possible,” he stated emphatically. “What’s not possible?” Blake casually glanced at Devin before he laid plates on the table. “Are you staying for dinner?” “Charlene will not be returning with you. We are getting married.” The words slipped easily from Devin’s mouth. The result was a chorus of “what?” coming from Charlee and both her brothers. She felt her eyes widen. Disbelief stole her breath. Devin smiled in that charming, sexy way that usually made her melt. “Ahhh, ma petite, you have not informed your brothers.” He pushed away from the counter. The kitchen was so small all he had to do was reach and she was again within his embrace. “Shame on you, petite guerrier.” “Char?” Charlee felt Blake’s reprimand as easily as if he had grabbed her by the arms and shook. Her mouth opened, but Devin placed a finger against her lips. “Hush, ma petite. Let me tell them.” Charlee nearly swallowed her tongue. Devin situated her with her back to him, pulling her up against his body. Heat and the fact the man was aroused, his swollen cock pressed impressively against her back, made Charlee forget what they were discussing, forget that the man pressed intimately against her had told her he was a vampire. Instead, she remembered their night together. He filled her with perfection. His touch… His kiss… “Is that true?” James was now glaring down upon her. “What?” Hell, she hadn’t been listening. “What’s going on here, Char?” Blake asked. “There’s no way in hell you’re going to marry this guy, especially tonight.” “Tonight?” she squealed, cranking her head to look at Devin. He bent and placed a kiss on her nose. Then he shrugged. “I tried to get her to wait, but your sister is… How do you say it? Hmmm…impatient.” Once again Charlee’s jaw dropped. But before she could speak, he whirled her around and kissed her soundly. Masterful and consuming, he stole her objections. Just the pressure of his mouth on hers, the playful flick of his tongue as he devoured her was enough to melt every damn bone in her body. A deep throat clearing brought them apart. “Char, you have some explaining to do.” Blake placed a fourth plate on the table. “What did you say your name was?” he asked Devin. Charlee shook her head. Blake was a detail maniac. A photographic memory made him a real pain in the ass. Devin released her and moved forward with an outstretched hand. “Devin

Leduc.” “Leduc.” Blake took his hand this time and shook. Their eyes met and Charlee could imagine what was going on in her brother’s head. Marriage. That one little word had thrown them all for a loop. After a show of strength and authority through a handshake, they parted. Devin turned to greet James. James didn’t pause. He came forward and clasped Devin’s hand. Yet there was a hesitation before their handshake ended. Men. Frustrated, Charlee set her palms on their clasped hands. “Enough. Let’s eat.” Let’s eat? A vampire had just informed her brother that they were going to marry and all she could say was “let’s eat”? James was an excellent cook and the smells of spaghetti and garlic bread filled the kitchen. Garlic? Would Devin be okay? “Yes, ma petite. Thank you for your concern. Garlic is an old wives’ tale.” After the food had been set on the table and wine opened, Blake did the big brotherly thing by trying to trap her between him and James, while Devin smoothly brought her to his side and seated her between James and himself. Charlee would have laughed if it wasn’t such a serious situation. As James poured the wine, Charlee turned to Devin. “Gloria will be coming home tonight?” She phrased it as a question, but it was anything but. “Where is she, Devin?” “No, I don’t believe so. She has decided to stay at my house for a while. In fact, she is eager to attend the wedding.” The chair legs screeched across the floor as he drew her closer to him. “Wine, Leduc?” James offered. “Thank you, no.” Devin draped an arm around the back of Charlee’s chair and began to play absentmindedly with her hair. “In fact, Charlee and I should really get going. I have arranged for a minister at nine.” Both brothers plastered her with a frown. “After she eats. And of course both of you are welcome to attend.” When Charlee opened her mouth to contradict him, she found a breadstick crammed into it. She bit down hard. “She loves garlic bread,” Devin said as he held the breadstick before her for another bite. His other hand closed around the nape of her neck. She could feel his pulse speed as she chewed. “We will talk about this later, when we’re alone.” He spoke low and firmly in her mind. “But—” “Later, ma petite.” The man was infuriating. She chewed and swallowed, but the soft bread went down like a chunk of cement. “Char, you really didn’t plan on marrying this guy tonight—without us present?” The hurt in Blake’s voice touched her. Her brother was usually hard as nails, but they were family. Their mother had died from breast cancer when Charlee was two. Their father had perished a year ago from a stray bullet during a drug bust. James and Blake were her only family. And they took to heart their father’s last request: “Take care of Charlene.”

Blake looked Devin square in the eyes. “No disrespect, buddy. But Char is our sister. She is a little spontaneous.” Charlee’s eyes gaped wide. “A little too headstrong.” Devin’s chuckle jerked her glare from Blake to him. “Neither of us can allow this, not tonight,” Blake added. “Not tonight,” James agreed. “Besides I didn’t see a wedding dress in her room.” “Perhaps when you were rummaging through my things you didn’t look in the right place,” she jabbed. Shit. Where did that come from? James glanced down at Charlee’s left hand. Her knuckles were white with tension as she held onto her wine glass like a safety rope. “Or a ring for that matter.” Again, Devin chuckled, a light airy sound as if he enjoyed the interplay between siblings. “Here, petite guerrier. The jewelry store was slow in sizing your ring. I had wanted to surprise you later, but how wonderful we could share this with your brothers.” Charlee’s breath caught on an inhale at the three-carat rock he held between his fingers. He didn’t wait for her to speak. He simply raised her hand and slipped the diamond, which fit perfectly, on her finger. “Wait—” Devin covered her objections with another kiss, while he whispered in her mind, “Not now. We’ll speak later.” “Forget later.” Charlee almost said it aloud. She felt her control slipping. Her hands were shaking. Her brothers raised their brows as the gem caught the lighting above and splintered into a flash of brilliance. Their gaze snapped to hers. “Your brothers will not accept the truth. And Gloria awaits you. Do not make this worse than it has to be.” The last inference left Charlee uncertain. What could be worse? Her brothers were hurt, not only suspicious as was their nature. For God’s sake, she had inadvertently become engaged to a vampire. And Gloria’s attacker, Stacy’s murderer, still roamed the streets. “Things could be worse, ma petite.” She heard the truth in his voice. “I won’t marry you.” He drew her close beneath the shelter of his arm. “We shall see, my love.” “Devin!” There was desperation in Lucius’s voice that intruded into Charlee’ s head. “Damien’s woman is not doing well. Your assistance is needed.” “I’m coming.” Devin placed a hand on Charlee’s arm and brought her up with him. “Gloria,” she whispered. Devin nodded. “We must leave.” This time Damien spoke, “Devin, you must hurry. I feel her distress.” The beat of wings battling against the air filled Charlee’s head to the point of dizziness. She swayed but was steadied by Devin’s arms snaking around her waist. “No one’s going anywhere until we discuss this,” Blake insisted as he and James rose to their feet.

Charlee could see the concern in Devin’s eyes as he said, “Charlene.” “Blake—James, we’ll talk later.” “No—now,” Blake insisted. “Forgive me, ma petite.” Devin closed his eyes, his face a mask of stone. When Charlee again looked at her brothers, their faces were bewildered as they scanned the kitchen. “Where did they go?” Blake barked. “I don’t know.” James turned toward the family room. Devin and Charlee moved past them without notice. She glanced over her shoulder. “What did you do to them?” “Shhh… Your friend is in danger we must hurry. Now get your shoes.” Damn. He was right. She was barefoot. Quickly she ran to her bedroom, slipping her feet into a pair of tennis shoes, then grabbed her cell phone and her gun. She was ready.

Chapter Twelve Gloria in danger? As Devin entered the front room of his house, Charlee close behind him, it looked more like Lucius was in danger. Gloria had him backed against the wall. His eyes were wide as saucers as the statuesque brunette closed in on him. “Look!” She thrust her hand before his face. “Count them. Three broken nails.” She jabbed her other hand forward and wiggled her fingers. “Two on this hand.” She placed her hands on her hips and leaned forward. Lucius cringed. “Someone is going to pay.” There was a threat in her tone, but a sudden lisp took away some of the growl in her voice. She wasn’t used to her canines yet. Lucius loved women, Devin chuckled. But it seems both Damien’s and his women were a little much for their younger brother. It was curious that Gloria’s wounds had not healed completely. The tear at her throat was an angry pink scar. He wondered for a moment if she would carry the memory of the attack, as Millie had. Of course, Millie hadn’t been as close to death as Gloria had been. Only converting Charlene’s friend saved her life. She had scrapes and bruises up and down her arms that should have been healed, as well as her fingernails that she gazed at with such distraught. Perhaps she needed more time—or was it the taint of the rogue vampire’s madness that weakened the process? “Gloria,” Charlene yelled as she broke from Devin’s side and hastened toward her friend. She jerked to a stop as Gloria turned around, displaying long, white incisors that pricked her bottom lip. “Gloria?” Charlene’s voice weakened and withered away like drying leaves. “Charlee, this bastard won’t tell me where I am. Who did this to me? Look—”

she held her ragged fingernails before her as she shook her head, “—my manicure is ruined. Thirty bucks down the drain.” She glanced up at Charlene’ s pale and frozen face. “Honey, what’s wrong?” Charlene swung around to face Devin. Her blue eyes were an array of emotions. “You did this to her.” Her trembling voice and condemning gaze cut him like a knife. Devin reached for her. “Charlene.” She dodged his grasp. He felt her rejection clear down to the bone. “Oh. My. God.” Charlee placed a palm over her mouth, then pulled in a ragged breath. “It’s true. This is all true.” Devin could feel that last thread of doubt leave Charlee. It was so like a human to hang onto their beliefs even when the evidence proved differently. Gloria took a step toward Charlee. Charlee stumbled, trying to move away. “Honey, are you okay?” Gloria reached for her. Charlee’s eyes bulged, staring at Gloria’s hand. Where broken and damage fingernails existed only seconds ago, Gloria now had ten long, beautifully sculptured ones and the wound at her neck was almost healed. “Holy shit! What’s going on here?” Gloria’s tongue nervously slid across full, pouty lips, coming in contact with her fangs. She jerked her hand to her mouth and touched one tooth and then the other, pricking her finger. A bead of blood swelled on the tiny cut. The scent of blood filled the air. A wildness Devin knew all too well began to grow in Gloria’s eyes. Hunger. Raw and greedy. Lucius had fed Gloria while she slept so that she had some restraint over the beast when she rose. But a new vampire had little control. The memory wash Devin had given her had wiped the attack from her mind. Yet there was nothing to prevent the anxiety and fear a new vamp experienced once they discovered they had been converted. “Charlee?” Panic then anger filtered across Gloria’s face. “What the fuck is going on here?” Her top lip curled as she tugged at one of incisors. “Funny. Ha, ha. Who did this to me and how did you manage to fix my fingernails? And how the hell do I take these off?” She tugged at her tooth. Lucius glanced at Devin. Devin glanced at Charlee. “Bastards,” Charlene growled as she cautiously walked toward Gloria. Devin could see saliva gather in Gloria’s mouth as she tilted her head side to side, listening to the beat of Charlene’s heart. Then Gloria’s eyes focused on the pulsing vein in her friend’s throat. Her tongue caressed her canines. Her eyelids dropped as she savored how Charlene’s blood would taste on her tongue. Devin could hear her thoughts, knew what was going through the woman’s mind. Gloria’s eyes popped open. She thrust her palm out toward Charlene. “Stop. Don’t come near me.” She shook her head. “Something’s wrong with me, Charlee.” Pain and hunger warred across her pretty features as she fell to the floor on hands and knees. She bowed her head. “Don’t come any closer. Oh, God.” Her shoulders heaved as her breathing elevated. “Devin,” Damien called to him. “Help her. She’s frightened for herself, for her friend. The hunger grows. She needs to feed again. I am near, but not close

enough to address her needs myself.” Shit. Devin ran his fingers through his dark hair. Who was going to help him? His own mate thought him a monster. Feeding her friend in front of Charlene would only confirm her worst fears. Plus, he himself hadn’t fed, as when he woke Charlene was gone and surrounded by males. It didn’t matter that they were her brothers, only that they were touching her. Lucius was pale, a result of feeding Gloria thoroughly after she woke. And if Gloria didn’t feed again soon she would lose control and attack Charlene. “Lucius, take Charlene in the library.” “Fuck you. I’ll stay right here with Gloria,” Charlene snapped Gloria’s head rose from her crouched position. Looking up was a troubled and scare woman, not the suave, feisty one that stood only moments ago. “No! Charlee—go. Something isn’t right. I-I can hear your heartbeat…” she inhaled deeply, raising her shoulders and arching her back, “…the flow of blood swishing through your veins.” She slowly rose. Her movements sensual and graceful as she gained her footing. Her eyes darkened with hunger. She blinked. “I-I…” Her face softened. Instinct took over. She reached out her arms. “Charlee.” The woman’s smile was seductive, her voice soft and inviting. “Lucius!” Both Damien and Devin reached silently for their younger brother’ s assistance. Without hesitation, he embraced Gloria from behind. Her lips curled on a snarl and she hissed, baring her fangs. Charlene gasped, stumbling backward into Devin’s arms. For a moment, she didn’t realized he held her. In fact, she didn’t fight him as he pulled her from the room and out into the hallway. In disbelief Charlene murmured, “This can’t be happening.” She shook beneath his touch. He guided her around to face him, holding her at arm’s length. “There is a whole world out there that humans do not know exist. The nightmares they speak of are a reality in some dimensions. Mostly, those of us who are different wish only to coexist alongside of you.” She didn’t attempt to free herself of his grasp. He drew her closer and pressed his lips to her forehead, breathing in her scent and the fear that lingered, bitter in his nose. He stroked her back, attempting to ease her anxiety. “Like you are my mate, Gloria is Damien’s. We cannot walk this earth without you.” She jerked her head up and stared at him. “What?” He ran his cheek along hers breathing in her scent. She was so soft. “For some unknown reason, there are a few humans who can mate with vampires and the lycanthropes. You are one of them, as is Gloria.” She sighed, leaning into his touch. “But what if we—I don’t want to?” Her voice was small and innocent as her fears rose. He stilled. Stared at her a moment, before he moved to see her face. “Then my soul is lost.” She swallowed hard. “Lost?” How could he get her to understand the gravity of the situation? “I am nothing without you, petite guerrier. Please say that you will be mine.” The female growl that pushed through the thick wooden door drew their attention. “Your friend needs sustenance.” Devin threaded his fingers through

the silk of her hair. “I must oblige her or she could get nasty.” An uneasy chuckle left Charlene’s thin lips. “You have no idea how nasty Gloria can get.” A shadow passed over her eyes. “Can you change her back?” He could see the need and hope as she gazed up at him. “No, ma petite. What is done is done. My brother needs her desperately. He is…” Devin swallowed hard. “He is close to changing.” Devin sensed Millie moving down the hall toward them. “Devin.” He turned with Charlene in his arms to greet her. “It would be my pleasure to give of myself freely to you, so that you may calm the woman’s hunger.” Devin gave a deep sigh. His friend was the epitome of generosity. And her appearance at always the right time was a little uncanny. “Thank you, Millie.” Millie laid a hand on Charlee’s shoulder. “By the way, there are two rather angry men awaiting mademoiselle in the library. I believe they are her brothers and very adamant to see her—immediately.” “Crap.” A frantic expression twisted Charlene’s beautiful features. “What am I going to tell Blake and James? And what about Gloria?” Devin cupped her face and pressed his lips to hers. “We will think of something. For right now, it is necessary for me to pacify your friend. You must handle your brothers. Do you know the way to the library?” Millie grinned. “Simply follow the loud grumbling.” She pointed down the hall. “Up the stairs, third door on the left.” Charlene took off hastily down the corridor as Millie moved with Devin toward the room where Lucius and Gloria resided. Charlee couldn’t explain the wave of emotions bombarding her. Why couldn’ t she tell her brothers what was happening? Surely they would believe her after they heard the facts. But then, what would happen to Devin—to Gloria? Was Devin’s position as perilous as he expressed? Men had a way of exaggerating to get what they want. She guessed a male vampire was no different. As she hurried down the hall, she struggled with what she would say. One thing was for sure, there was something deep inside her that screamed for Devin’s touch—his kiss. Instinctively, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. He was gentle with her, almost cherishing when his fingers danced across her skin. Yet she feared the fact he was different. Different? The man was a friggin’ vampire. Her best friend was a vampire. And the murderer she hunted was a vampire. Her trembling hand reached out and closed upon the doorknob. She pulled in a breath of courage and pushed the door open. “How the hell did you slip out on us?” Blake’s heavy footsteps crossed the room. “One minute you two are playing patty-cake with each other, making goo-goo eyes, the next you’re gone.” He reached for her and Charlee dodged his grasp. “Dammit, Char. You can’t mean to go through with this. Hell, we don’t even know this guy. He could be a mass murderer. How the hell did you get past us?” James moved next to her. Blake closed in on the other side. Devin? A mass murderer? Well, she guessed he could be. He certainly had

the means to be. Charlee puckered her mouth and blew a breath to release the tension within. “Are you two madder that I’m going to get married without your permission or that we slipped your grasp? Boy, you must have some connections with the PD to get Devin’s address so fast.” “Char.” Blake said her name with such compassion she felt like a dog for jabbing them. “What he’s trying to say is we love you,” James blurted, his gaze darting to Blake and then back to her. “We don’t know this guy. Do you?” Oh, she knew this guy. He was the effigy of a sexual god. He did things to her body she had only dreamt about. Tender and sexy, he knew how to make her feel like she was the only woman alive. And he was just your everyday garden-variety vampire. Yeah. Right. That would go over like a lead balloon. Mentally she ran through the pros and cons of the man who swore she was his soul mate, and her hesitation brought frowns to both her brothers’ faces. “Yes,” she stated emphatically, looking down at the shiny diamond on her hand. She buried her fists into her hips and felt the stone dig into her skin. Tilted her head. “Yes, I know him.” Why the hell was she protecting him, not to mention playing along with this wedding farce? “Well, you could wait long enough for us to get to know him.” Blake’s growl had more than enough bitterness and resentment to light a fuse beneath her. “Blake, do either of you ever ask me for my opinion? Have either of you taken a really good look at me.” She went up on tiptoes and tried to stare him in the eyes, failing miserably. “Do you care what I want? Do you feel it necessary to introduce your girlfriends and ask me what I think?” Blake’s large hands settled on her shoulders. “Yeah, we do care what you want.” He pulled her to him and rested his chin on the top of her head. “I worry about you. I don’t want you to make a mistake.” “Char, Dad asked us to look after you.” James moved next to them. “To look after me, not to ride herd.” She chuckled, loving the warmth of her brothers’ concerns that surrounded her as she laced her arms around Blake and leaned into his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Hell, they were right. She did have the tendency to get herself in trouble. Duh! Look at the mess she was currently in. “Give us a little time to get to know this…uh…Leduc.” James reached out and gave her a knuckle bump on the head, ruffling her hair. “You mean give you a little time to investigate him.” She pulled out of Blake’ s embrace and watched both men’s faces turn to stone. “Just what I thought.” She shook her head, but couldn’t mask the smile. “What am I going to do with you two? Okay. What if I promise not to marry Devin for a while? Will you two leave here and let me get back to work?” “No,” they said in unison. “What?” Damn. She should have known she would get nowhere with these guys. Blake stood before her, concern deepening the wrinkles across his forehead. “The case you’re working on is dangerous. Char, let the police handle this.”

“What?” It was becoming her favorite word around her brothers, plus the air of disbelief that followed it. “I can’t do that. This is my job. George Benson is depending on me, and-and the police have done Jack-shit to bring Stacy’s killer to justice.” “Both of us have read the police records. There’s something a little odd about this Jacque Montague. But you’re not going to pin it on him. His alibi is ironclad.” “It wasn’t him,” she admitted freely. Why? She didn’t know. But the previous night made it clear someone else was responsible. Or did it? Man, she was confused. James and Blake stared at her. She could see their minds racing to discover why she’d changed her mind. “What more do you know about this case?” James asked. “The police need to know everything.” Charlee harrumphed. “Let ‘em do their own work.” Wrong thing to say to two detectives, but before her brothers could waylay her for interfering in a police investigation, the door opened and Devin strolled in. He came immediately to Charlee’s side and took her into his arms. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, ma petite. Are you ready to become my bride?” He looked down at her with such endearing eyes. She could almost believe that he truly wanted to marry her, even loved her. “Not tonight.” Blake blustered. “Char has agreed to wait.” “Hold on a minute. I don’t remember making that agreement,” Charlee said. Devin pulled her closer into his embrace and rained soft kisses against her face. Damn vampire was always touching her. “I only offered the suggestion to get you to out of my business.” Charlee felt Devin tense against her body. Well, that wasn’t the right thing to say in front of the man—vampire who wanted to marry her. “What I mean—” she turned in Devin’s arms, “—is that my brothers need time to get to know you. And I need time to solve this murder.” “No!” Three voices chimed together and none of them was hers. Each man shared a look of agreement. Devin looked confidently at her brothers again. “Charlene will not continue to endanger herself.” Devin griped her chin between his fingers. “Your career as a private investigator is over.” As if she’d been kicked to the curbside, she fell away from Devin. The heat of anger, red hot, flamed across her cheeks. “Who the hell do you think you are?” His eyes narrowed. “I am to be your husband. You are to do as I say.” Blake and James’ smugness filtered over their faces as they folded their arms over their broad chests, each brother giving her a look that said, “What now?” For two cents, she’d knock the shit out of all three of these arrogant men. Instead, she brushed her palms downward with an air of exasperation. “I’ve had enough of this.” She fixed her glare on Devin. “Is Gloria alright?” Devin nodded. “I sent her back to grrr—bed. She has an upset stomach,” he explained for her brothers’ sakes. “Her dinner disagreed with her.” “I bet.” Charlee glared at Devin, knowing he had been Gloria’s dinner. “I’m out of here.” As she pivoted, all three men fell in behind her. She whirled

around, stopping them dead in their tracks. “You—” she pointed to Devin, “— and you and you…” she shook her extended finger nailing Blake and James, “…stay put. If any of you come closer, I’ll shoot you on sight.” Then she slung the library door open, passing through it, before she slammed it for good measure. Her heavy footsteps beat a path straight for the front door, leading her out of Devin’s home. When she was out in the night air, she dragged in a breath. Life rose around her in the sounds of jazz, laughter and the soft serenade of crickets. As she strolled down the busy street, she pondered at how her life had changed. Actually it felt like she was perched on the head of a child’s top spinning around and around. How could she calmly accept that vampires and other nightmares existed, or the fact that she was marked as the mate to a vampire? And what would happen to Devin if she didn’t agree to become a… The word “vampire” stuck in her throat. She veered right on Bourbon Street, eager to get home and contact Jacque Montague. Even if he hadn’t committed the crime, he knew something about Stacy’s murder. The picture of Stacy’s torn neck, Gloria lying crumpled on the ground, and the glaring red eyes of the man who had attacked them flashed in Charlee’s mind. It was the last thing she thought of before a strong arm slipped around her waist, a hand suffocating the scream in her throat. Strong body odor burned her nostrils. Her eyes watered as she began to kick and struggle. A high-pitched wail came from somewhere behind her. That hyena mating call she had heard twice before—once on the telephone and again in the cemetery where she had been buried alive. Her temper detonated—exploded, but before she could deliver the beating of a lifetime, a sharp pain stabbed into her thigh, followed by the icy sting of something being shot into her leg, stopping only when she jerked out of the person’s embrace and saw the hypodermic fly through the air. Within a heartbeat, her mind began to cloud, her bones to melt, as her fight quietly ended. No control remained. Voices around her were muffled, faint and unintelligible. Just before she slipped away, Charlee realized she’d been drugged.

Chapter Thirteen The minute Devin heard Charlene’s silent scream, he froze. Instead of following her as he knew he should, he had hesitated, answering one question after the other from her brothers. The men were relentlessly drilling him as they sat in his library, sipping scotch before a small fire. No way in hell were these two men going to allow their sister to marry a

stranger. Devin could hear her struggles, her thoughts, sounds and smells. A man’s unkempt body pressed against hers, his hands cruelly touching; his grunts as she successfully nailed him with the heel of her foot above the shin. And the shrill of laughter. Charlee knew her attackers. He felt her fight dissolve. Confusion filled her head. She fought to understand why her body didn’t respond. “Charlene,” Devin whispered aloud before he realized it. “What?” James asked, setting his glass down on the coffee table before him. “Charlene is in danger. I must go to her.” Devin rose abruptly, bringing both of Charlene’s brothers to their feet. The French doors flung open on Devin’s command as he hurried through them, but not before he saw the glances exchanged between men. “Hey, wait! You can’t make a statement like that and leave. Where is she?” Blake demanded as he and James followed. “Corner of Bourbon and St. Ann.” James’ gaze drifted down the side of the building. They were on the second story. He chuckled. “What do you expect to do, fly to her?” The reminder was all Devin needed to cloak himself from their sight as he shape-shifted into a bird and shot into the night sky. As his broad wings caressed the air, he heard Blake grumble, “Where the hell did he go?” And then their heavy footsteps pounded the floor. “Charlene,” Devin called out, but there was no answer. She was eerily silent, their thought path broken. Still, he could sense her closeness as he flew over the French Quarter. From above, Devin could see two men pushing her listless body into a broken-down truck. She hadn’t gotten too far from the house before she was abducted. He dove from the sky, heading right for them. Gathering energy from the elements, he shot a ball of fire straight for the vehicle’s engine to disable, not demolish. The explosion rocked the truck, causing the two men to scatter, stumble, and fall. Before Devin could reach the ground, he felt the vampire’s presence. Evil. A dark cloud of menace and it was growing thicker the closer he got to Charlee. Devin shape-shifted back into human form as he landed. Suddenly the vampire materialized between Devin and Charlee. He hissed and Devin could see why Charlee had thought Jacque Montague had been the attacker. The man was the identical image of Montague, except for the madness that reddened his eyes, the insanity that curled his mouth as saliva dripped from his incisors. The abomination continued the release of air, ominous and slow, drawing it out as hundreds of snakes appeared from out of nowhere, curling around Devin ’s ankles, crawling up his legs. The vampire’s minions scrambled to their feet shrieking, brushing and swatting at the slimy serpents. The shorter of the two men pulled a gun from the waistband of his pants, aimed it at a snake and fired, slicing it in two with one shot. But as soon as one died several more took its place.

With a mere thought, Devin summoned lightning from the sky. The power surged through his veins, building as the heavens answered his call. The flash was blinding as it ripped through the atmosphere. Screeches, cries of pain and the smell of burning skin filled the air as many of the reptiles withered and died. Another bolt from the sky singed the remainder. Devin moved cautiously to the side of the vehicle in an attempt to draw the vampire away from Charlene’s limp body that hung half-in and half-out of the truck. “You’ll have to come up with something better than that if you want to see another night.” Devin grinned, his fingers curling in a come-and-get-me fashion. A cold gust followed by a stream of fog, twisting and turning, rose. It felt thick, heavy, like chains wrapping around Devin’s body and throat. An eerie white wall that threatened to separate him from Charlene. He tried to pull air into his lungs but failed. Taunting laughter filled his ears. “She is my mate,” the vampire said. “Interference will only bring about your death.” Dissolving into mist, Devin became part of the substance that had choked him. Despite the strong wind that developed when Devin had called down the lightning, the fog remained thick. Dark clouds loomed overhead. Through the dense cover, Devin could see both of Charlene’s brothers approaching in the distance. One thing he did not need now was more humans to protect. If he didn’t do something quick the situation would go from bad to worse. Devin sent his energy into Charlene’s body discovering the drug that rendered her unconscious. Working quickly, he diluted the substance. She needed to be alert to ward off their attackers. Within seconds, Charlene began to rouse. Her movements were groggy and slow. She moaned, drawing the rogue vampire’s attention. Devin materialized as he pushed an energy surge toward Charlene’s body, lifting and pushing her further into the truck. The door slammed shut, locking her in—the vampire out. From the earth, he called upon a large oak tree in a nearby courtyard to slow the vampire. The ground shook as the tree’s roots crawled across the surface in search of its prey. Devin watched as Charlene blinked her eyes and tried to focus on what was happening around her. The vampire screeched as he dodged branches and roots that sought to restrain him. The high-pitched sound filled the air as the tree burst into flames and the vampire disappeared. Then he reappeared before the truck, balled up a fist and struck the door’s window. Charlee scrambled back on the seat as glass shattered into an intricate cobweb. It held, but one more impact and the vampire would be through the window. Devin saw her struggle to sit up. Her body wavered. Her brothers were drawing closer. Awareness struck. Her eyes went wide. Immediately she struggled with the key to turn on the truck, but the earlier damage Devin wreaked wouldn’t allow the engine to even click over. She caught sight of her brothers and Devin could sense that something other than fear took over.

Devin moved to intercept the vampire, but was cut off by more of the vampire’s minions. A swarm of wasps attacked, swathing him in a stinging blanket. Again he turned into mist, stirring the air into a violent whirling column that surrounded the insects and carried them away. “Blake. James. Run.” She attempted to unlock the door, but the spell Devin placed on it held tight. In a fit of anger, she pummeled the fractured glass, sending shards over the infuriated vampire outside and raining glass over herself. She slammed her fist in it again, making a hole large enough for her to climb through. The woman was made of iron. Her determination to brave the vampire to save her brothers, in lieu of her own safety, set Devin in motion. “No!” He lunged forward only to slam into an invisible wall that threw him backward. “Get the fuck out of the way,” she growled before she shimmied through the window, ignoring the bits of safety glass biting into her tender hands and knees. The vampire grinned as if fascinated with her spirit or spellbound by her beauty. Either way he stepped aside. Gone were his hideous twisted features. Instead, he wore the handsome face of Jacque Montague. He held out his hand to her and smiled. “Come to me, my love.” His voice was warm and enticing. Devin could feel the spell he weaved around Charlene. Getting to her feet and brushing glass from her palms, Charlene stumbled back and suddenly stilled. An expression of confusion filtered across her face. She took one step, then another, closing the distance between her and Montague. “Charlene,” Devin whispered her name, allowing it to flow around her body, breaking the vampire’s spell on both him and Charlene. In a heartbeat, Devin materialized between her and their nemesis. He reached for the vampire, but everything became a blur as the vampire vanished. “Blake—James,” she screamed as the vampire reappeared in the path between Charlene and her siblings running side by side toward her. Their determined expressions said nothing would stop them from reaching her. The rogue vampire fed off fear, fed off emotions. With preternatural speed, he flew through the air striking both Blake and James before they could reach for their guns. The impact threw the two large men up into the air. As they landed, they skidded across the asphalt as if it were ice. Charlene screamed. Devin saw her reach for her gun from the back waistband of her jeans as she ran toward her brothers. The damn woman must have retrieved the weapon when she went for her shoes. Devin was quicker, a breeze of air, as he ran past her to come to the aid of her brothers. But it was too late. The vampire grabbed hold of James and sank his teeth deep in the man’s neck, ripping muscle and tendons as he pulled away. Blake’s recovery was swift as he lifted his gun and emptied his forty-five into the chest of the vampire. The tiny holes oozed black blood, but it did nothing to stop the demon from striking Blake with an invisible fist that made him once again soar through the air, landing hard. At the same time, Devin attacked. He body-slammed the vampire, sending

him high into the air. There was a moment of silence while the vampire hung suspended in the air and then simply disappeared. In the same instant, Damien and Lucius materialized beside Devin. The vampire must have detected his brothers’ presence, as he had. ”We missed the fight,” Lucius chuckled. But a cry from Charlene drew Devin ’s attention. Raw emotion seeped from Charlene’s eyes as she cradled James’ torn body. Surprise widened his eyes His mouth gaped, opened and closed, several times. He tried to speak, but no words came. A sharp gasp. Wheeze. Another sharp gasp and a gurgle. His eyes pools of angst. “Get an ambulance,” Blake shouted as he jumped to his feet and shot toward his siblings. He stopped short. Disbelief raced across his face as he dropped to his knees. Shaking, he pulled his brother out of Charlene’s arms and to his chest. Horror and pain registered as he inspected his brother’s torn throat. “James, hold on buddy… Hold on.” He rocked his sibling back and forth. “Get a fucking ambulance, now!” The terrified look in his eyes said he knew James’ time was short. “Hold on,” he repeated gently as if he spoke to a child. Then he whispered, “It’s not supposed to be this way.” His gaze rose to Charlene’s. He shook his head, his tortured expression reflecting the pain he felt. Devin watched the three of them cling to each other. His own brothers stood quietly beside him. He could feel the family’s anguish, as could Lucius and Damien. Each placed a knowing hand on his shoulders. Charlene scrambled to her feet. The agony in her eyes felt like tethers reaching for Devin’s heart and wrapping around it like a vise as she approached him. He wanted to take her into his arms, comfort her. She appeared fragile as she gazed up and said, “Save him.” The plea came out on a sob. A soft snort followed as she wrestled with control. Her request startled him. “What?” Her trembling fingers grasped his silk shirt and she choked back another sob as tears raced down her reddened cheeks. Eyes glistening with desperation, she cried, “Save him. Like you did Gloria.” Devin couldn’t bear to see her pain. He cupped her cheeks between his palms. “Charlene, you don’t know what you’re asking.” He knew the fear she experienced when she realized what Gloria had become still existed, but it meant nothing if his gift could save her brother. She loved James that much. A love Devin would die for. Then her features crumbled. “Dammit. Yes, I do.” Her bottom lip quivered. “I can’t live without him.” She sucked in a breath that nearly strangled her. She threw her palm over her mouth, fighting to hold on to her emotions. She dropped her hand to her side. Her voice was strained with emotion. “Devin, please. I can’t live without him.” Without a second’s delay, Devin said, “Damien—Lucius. I need your assistance.” He hastened to James’ side. “Devin, think of what you’re doing,” Damien warned. “Char. James—” Blake’s hands shook, wrapped around his sibling. “James

—” Devin knew, as well as Charlene, Blake was trying to tell her that James was dying. Charlene moved before him and took her eldest brother’s face in her palms. “Blake, I need for you to trust me. Come with me.” Blake’s gaze shot to James lying in his lap and then to her. “Char, we can’t leave him. Not now.” The look on his face, the sorrow in his eyes screamed that his place was beside James as he took his final breath. “Now!” Devin demanded of his brothers. Blake’s eyes clouded. He didn’t fight Devin as he lifted James from his arms and moved away. “What’s wrong with him?” she asked, throwing her arms around Blake. “I willed him to not interfere while Devin and I take care of your other brother,” Lucius said as he walked past her and knelt beside Devin. Together they worked to save Charlene’s sibling. Damien began to clean up the scene. With fire from his fingertips, he incinerated what evidence remained. A few snakes crawling on the ground popped and sizzled before turning black as the night. With a raise of his arms, a sturdy breeze materialized, lifting the remains into the air, a black funnel cloud that soared higher and higher until there was nothing in sight. Devin knew his brother would scatter the bits and pieces of matter throughout the city. All the while, Charlene stared in disbelief at Damien’s artful display of magic. When he brought forth the rain clouds, a shower washing away any further evidence, she gasped. The burn mark on the truck would look like lightning struck it, the broken window a result of the impact. Everything was left as if Mother Nature had raised havoc in the vicinity of Bourbon and St. Ann, instead of a vampire attack gone bad. Blake muttered, “What in the hell is going on? W-what are they doing to James?” Amazingly, he had broken through Lucius’s mind control. Without waiting for a response, he pulled from Charlene’s arms, jumped to his feet, and quickly approached the men surrounding his brother. Lucius was just finishing feeding James. Blood smeared on James’ pale lips. “What the fuck?” Angrily, Blake reached for Lucius, but not before Damien immobilized Charlee’s brother with a thought. For some unknown reason, Damien had left the man conscious to what was going on around him. Devin looked up to witness the play of emotions warring across Charlene’s brother’s face. Fear. Confusion. Sadness. But most of all skepticism. This was a man of the law, a defender of science. Everything happening around him upset the balance of reality. Devin heaved James into his arms, standing as if James was as light as a feather, instead of a bulk of muscle and steel. “We are only attempting to help.” Blake tugged at his paralyzed feet. Helplessness fed his horror. “Feeding him blood?” he roared in disbelief. “For God’s sake, he’s dying. Let him go in peace.” He struggled, but unsuccessfully. “Fuck. What’s going on?” He pinned his sister with a glare as he continued to fight his frozen body. Huffing and puffing, he worked until sweat beaded his brow. “Char, who are these men?

Don’t let them take James!” Devin adjusted James’ listless body in his arms. “Charlene, escort your brother back to the house. We will follow shortly.” “Hell, no. I want to find the bastard that did this to James. Release me!” Then all composure left Blake’s face, “I won’t let James die alone.” Damien released his hold on Blake, who stumbled forward toward Devin and James. Blake placed his hand on his brother’s heart. Damien and Lucius both took protective stances next to Devin. Together they forced their magic upon the tormented man, helping to ease his pain. “Your brother will live, but we must get him back to the house. It’s not safe here. Lucius will escort you back to the house. I will ensure Devin and your brother return safely,” Damien promised. Charlene moved next to Blake, squeezing his hand as if she sought to assure him. Even still, she reached for James, hesitating. The muscles in her throat tightened as she swallowed. Devin knew she didn’t take a breath until she caressed her brother’s cheek. Relief came in an audible gasp. “He’s alive.” Her hand trembled as she slipped her fingertips through his hair. Misty-eyed, she expressed her gratitude with a weak smile as she perched on tiptoes and kissed Devin. It was a light, chaste kiss. “I hope James doesn’t hate me when he wakes.” Insecurity lowered her voice. Devin ached to hold her. “How can he, petite guerrier? You made your decision out of love.” He reached out with his mind and closed his arms around her. She leaned forward as if seeking his warmth, his comfort. An uneasy chuckle left her thin lips as she hugged herself, realizing what she’d done. “You don’t know James. He loves the beach, the sun.” She pushed the air from her lungs in a single gush. “I made the wrong choice.” “It is as it is, ma petite. We will deal with it.” She glanced at Blake whose hand lay quietly on James’ chest as if holding on to the beat of life that pumped inside. He paid them no attention, locked deep inside himself. “But what about Blake?” she whispered. “This will kill him.” Devin wanted to hold her, feel her skin against his, to still her trembling lips with his and to vanquish her fears. “Have faith in both your brothers. They are stronger than you think.” A lot stronger than he was when it came to her. Tension that held her captive made the light blue vein in her throat jerk, catching his regard. Sharp fangs burst through gum and tissue as blood filled his mouth. How he wanted to taste her. “Devin, shut down your mental path. You’re broadcasting your hunger and I have enough to deal with,” Damien snapped. Shit. How inconsiderate could he be? He completely forgot Damien had yet to meet his own mate. His brother arrived in town just as the rogue vampire had attacked. He should have felt his brother’s tension, but unlike him, Damien had sheltered Lucius and him from his building anxiety. “Forgive me.” Devin felt thoroughly abashed as he closed the link between both his brothers. “Lucius, take Charlene and her brother to the house.” Damn. This was going to be a long night.

Chapter Fourteen “Vampires! Are you fucking out of your mind?” Blake threw back his head, tipped the drink in his hand and swallowed the contents in one gulp. Then he slammed the glass on the wine cart next to the fireplace in Devin’s library. “Drugs.” His animosity felt like a slap across the face. “These freaks have gotten you hooked on drugs. Where are the friggin’ bastards? I’ll tear them from limb to limb.” He made for the door, his footsteps pounding out his agitation. Charlee grasped his arm, attempting to pull him backward, but only succeeded in being dragged against the polished floor behind him. As they neared the door, it opened and Devin stepped inside. Thud. Blake landed a right to Devin’s jaw. The dull sound of knuckles striking flesh, the sick grind of muscle and teeth, made Charlee cringe. Devin’s shocked expression melted. He shook his head, but to his credit, he didn’t retaliate. Still, he didn’t look happy as he took his chin between his fingers doing a see-saw motion with his jaw. A brow rose as he faced Blake. “I didn’t take you as a man to deliver a sucker punch.” Blake wasn’t up to talking and he wasn’t finished. He swung again. This time Devin dodged the blow. Blake caught air, throwing him off balance. An oversight that if Blake had been his normal self would have never happened. The moment allowed Devin to put some distance between himself and Blake. They’d have an all out brawl in no time. Charlee took a step to intervene when a voice burst from behind her. “Enough of this foolishness.” Millie moved through the open door and immediately wedged herself between the two overbearing men. Her full figure was dwarfed by the men’s height. They could have easily removed her from their presence, but both men obviously respected women and somehow Millie knew that. She stood unafraid as she thumped her fist against Devin’s chest. “Is this how we treat our guests?” Devin’s sharp gaze never left Blake’s. Yet like a little boy, Devin replied, “He started it.” If it wasn’t for his low menacing tone, Charlee would have laughed. Millie turned her narrow eyes on Blake. She thumped his chest and Blake’s eyes widened. “Oui?” she clipped in her French accent. “My apologizes, ma’am.” Blake dipped his head and had the sense to appear contrite. He snarled at Devin. “However, we need to talk.” “What I saw when I arrived was not talk, monsieur.” Millie chastised Blake and then Devin with a single glance. “Now, behave.” She pressed a finger into Devin’s chest, leaned forward and whispered, “Pummeling your bride’s brother. Shame on you.”

“Millie? I—” “Enough!” She turned to Charlee and her face softened with a smile. “I have checked on your other brother. Such a handsome man.” Millie blushed prettily, showing the signs of a woman who was once young and vibrant, and very, very sexy in her time. “He is doing well.” She slipped her arms around Charlee and gave her a big hug. “Lucius and Damien assure me that he will be fine upon the next rising.” “Rising?” The insinuation made Charlee shiver. What would James do? Would he hate her for interfering? What had her selfishness and inability to let him go done? “Thank you. Can I see him?” Millie attempted to mask her concern, but it flickered in her eyes. “Tomorrow—tomorrow would be better for all.” She released Charlee, and then turned and gave each man a scornful stare before she swept from the room. “Fuck!” Blake’s outburst made both Devin and Charlee turn about. Anger flooded his taut face. “Rising? You people are completely nuts.” Heavy footsteps pounded against the floor as he made his way to the French doors and stared out into the night. “Where’s my brother?” “Blake.” Charlee spoke softly as she hurried to catch up with him. She reached out, folding her fingers around his large biceps. “Blake.” She felt her forehead furrow as she searched for the words to explain what she herself couldn’t believe. “Let me, ma petite.” Devin moved closer, but keeping his distance not to crowd Blake. “Sir, there are many things that exist that as a human you are not aware of.” Blake pushed a breath of disbelief from his lungs. He pivoted, pushing Charlene aside to face Devin. “You might be able to manipulate my sister, but not me.” Devin stood out of Blake’s reach, closed his eyes and simply disappeared. Just like that he was there and then…gone. The tendons and veins in Blake’s neck bulged. Tension drew his jaws tightly together. Almost as quickly as Devin disappeared, he reappeared, but this time he stood by the door leading out to the hall. “Holy shit!” Blake stumbled back. A resonating thud echoed as he crashed into the French doors. His hand whipped out, grasping Charlee and dragging her behind him. She managed to get free, moving next to him. Instinct took over and he began to assess the situation. With keen eyes, he scrutinized Devin and the room. Nothing was left untouched by his search. Charlee almost laughed. There weren’t any wires, any cameras. This freaky stuff was real. “Surely, you did not think you were the only superior race on Earth?” Devin cocked a brow. His show of arrogance didn’t help the situation. “Devin,” Charlee scolded as Blake again tried to drag her behind him. She attempted to free of herself, but this time he held her firmly in place next to him. “Blake, let me go.” She struggled. He refused to comply. “We’re getting out of here and taking James with us.” The tension in Blake’s tone sounded brittle, the air thick with his apprehension. “Blake—”

“Char, if you know where James is you’d better tell me now. I want to take him home for burial. And I’ll tear this place apart to find him if I have to.” Charlee folded her arms around Blake’s body, felt his muscles and tendons clench. For the first time in her life, she could sense his uncertainty, his loss of confidence, of control. His breathing was elevated. Perspiration soaked his shirt. Blake had been her rock when their father died. James, the one to lighten her day. They were arrogant, troublesome and irritating brothers, but she loved them—would have no other. “Blake.” She paused, searching for words to express what she herself questioned. But what she’d seen could not be denied. “Can you explain what happened on the street? Can you explain Devin’s disappearing and reappearing act? How do you think we ditched you and James at my house?” Blake’s nostrils flared. His breathing was deep and ragged as he fought to expel it from thin lips. “Nothing makes sense, but it’s real—not a slight of hand or illusion—real.” Blake turned in her arms, clinging to her as if she could provide the only sanity left in this world. “James?” was all he said. Devin’s movements were cautious as he took a step toward them. “He is alive. He will walk in the dark as we do. Feed as we do, but he is still your brother.” “I can’t accept this.” Blake’s troubled gaze met hers. “Are you—” “No,” Devin responded quickly. Charlee felt his visual caress as he stroked her with his intensity. “Although fate has branded her my mate, Charlene will make her own choices and choose her own path.” He moved closer, hesitant at first, and then reached for her. “I want you to join me, but I will accept your decision not to.” Both of Devin’s brothers’ voices exploded in her head with disapproval. Their tones were edgy as they argued with Devin silently. Devin didn’t shut down the link between him and Charlee and she instinctively knew he had done it on purpose. To show her that what he said was true. Instead, he reached again for her and this time Blake released her. Devin wrapped his arms around her, inhaling a deep breath and audibly releasing it as if he were content in simply holding her. The tenderness in his touch, the sadness in his eyes, stirred her. If the eyes were the windows to one’s soul, he was preparing himself for her rejection. The decision felt like a ton of bricks on her shoulders. She had to reply with what her heart held. She had this uncontrollable urge to be with Devin. The thought of becoming undead was unsettling. The thought of being buried beneath the ground was devastating. “I don’t know.” She heard Damien’s and Lucius’s moans of disappointment. She even thought she heard one of them say, “take her.” From Devin she received a wary smile and a slight nod of acceptance. “There is no hurry.” But his brothers’ reactions said differently as they began again to fill her head arguing back and forth. “Enough.” This time the link was broken. Dead silence reigned. Devin’s smile appeared forced, wary. “For her safety she will remain here, with me.” “What? Char is not staying here,” Blake insisted.

Devin pressed his nose in her hair and inhaled. “I must insist.” “But—” “Charlene’s safety is my main concern.” He kissed her forehead. “You saw what happened this evening. There is a predator loose. And he has fixed his sights on her.” His embrace tightened around her. “No harm will come to her if she is within these walls.” “But—” “I don’t want to leave, Blake. I don’t want to leave James.” And she didn’t want to leave Devin. I must be crazy. Damn, if I haven’t fallen for a vampire. Lord, was Charlene’s brother becoming a pain in the ass. When the man finally decided to accept the fact that vampires existed, his questions came like machine gun fire—one after another. Then he peppered Devin with questions about his intentions toward Charlene until the wee hours of the morning. The man wasn’t happy when Devin simply disappeared. Dawn was quickly approaching and Devin needed to check on Charlene and he couldn’t do it with the stench of battle on him. A quick shower in his above ground bedroom, then he donned a robe. In seconds he was out of his room and heading down the hall toward Charlene’s room. He placed his palm on the door for a brief moment. Would she receive him or turn him away? Damien and Lucius had thoroughly chastised him. They were right, of course. His need for Charlene was growing. The ache in his body matched the throbbing in his infernal erection. The damn thing was hard as rock. His control wavered. The last thing he wanted was to come to Charlene lustful. But there lay the fact. He did lust for his mate. He curled his fingers into a fist and rapped lightly. “Yes?” Her sweet voice was like an aphrodisiac setting his blood ablaze. His testicles drew tight against his body. He cupped himself and sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. Fuck. He wasn’t going to make it through the remainder of the night without tasting her. “May I come in?” His voice was a low, coarse growl. Silence and then the click of the lock before she cracked the door open. Devin started to chuckle—a lock has never kept me out of a room—when his nose was struck with the scent of sweet perfume mingling with female arousal. It poured from her body, seeping through her pores. All comprehension and thought disappeared as she pulled back the door and he entered. Charlene was wearing nothing but a sheer white negligee that swept the floor, and his ring. The shadow between her thighs revealed she wore no panties. “I’ve died and gone to heaven,” he said. His gaze caressed her length from her silky blonde hair to her shapely legs. She was beautiful. Small and delicate standing before him. A light-hearted huff left her full lips. “Well one out of two isn’t bad.” If she could joke about his race then perhaps she had decided to accept him for what he was. A shiver raked his spine. Profound joy, so overwhelming, filled his chest. Never had he expected to react to a woman like he did with Charlene. She was the very air he breathed, the essence of life itself. He would do anything for her; even die the death of the immortals. He reached for her and she came willingly into his arms. Soft and warm,

she leaned into him. Her taut nipples pressed against his chest. “You smell like rain on a field of wildflowers. Clean, sweet and—” he buried his nose in her thick hair and inhaled, “sensuous.” “Thank you,” she said, but there was a note in her voice that concerned him. He held her a brief distance away so that he could look at her. The intensity in her eyes encouraged him to ask, “For the compliment?” Her hand pressed against his heart as if she sought to confirm it beat. “For the compliment, yes.” She hesitated. “But—” she choked on a breath as she tried to compose herself, “—mostly for my brother’s life.” “Ma petite guerrier, I would do anything for you.” Tears swam in her eyes, making them crystal blue pools. She circled his neck with her arms and pulled him to her mouth. The kiss was wild, searching for truth, searching for courage. He could feel her waver between what she wanted and the unknown. She feared what he was, but her desire or perhaps it was her gratitude slowly melted her resistance. She broke the kiss, her lips a breath away as their eyes met. She swallowed hard. He caressed her face with his gaze. She was beautiful and strong. “If you are not ready or cannot accept—” She silenced him with another kiss, but this one was filled with heat and need. She eased forward, moving him back inch by inch until he felt the softness of the bed behind his thighs. She gave him a push and he fell back on the downy comforter, the bed giving under his weight with a squeak. For a moment, she stared down upon him and then she smiled, reaching for the sash around his robe. In an achingly slow movement, she unfastened it and pulled. The glide of the material sent chills up his spine, the action parting his robe and revealing his nudity beneath. He felt the vein along the underside of his cock throb beneath her hungry gaze. A clear bead of fluid gathered at the slit. She leaned toward him, dipping her head to trace the tip of her tongue over his shaft. He sucked in a terse breath. Through feathered lashes, she gazed up at him, wetting his length in long licks with short quick flicks across the sensitive head. His fingers wove through her blonde hair, applying pressure and encouraging her to take him deep inside her warmth. Another shiver revealed how close he was to losing control. She took him into her mouth, sliding her lips up and down his cock. Devin’s eyes widened. His lips curled as he bared his fangs and threw his head back. “Fuck.” His voice was coarse and low as he strained to hold on. They didn’t have much time before sunrise. He wanted to fuck her every way possible before retiring and he was too close to climax as it was. “Stop.” He dragged in a ragged breath. Already his balls were achingly tight. The pull of release bore down on him, making the sensation pleasure-pain. “Let me taste you.” He guided her mouth from his engorged erection. Then he yanked her forward and down, covering his body before he rolled her beneath him. Her breathing was labored, her dusky nipples rasping against the silk she wore. He rose, parting their bodies enough to draw her gown over her legs, revealing the blonde thatch at the apex of her thighs, her taut abdomen and firm breasts. He raised her arms and the material flowed over her head before

he gave it a toss to the side. He had to touch her or die. His palms gently cradled her face before he slid his hands down, stroking her throat, feeling the pulse of life that beat strong and rapidly beneath her soft skin. His sensitive fingertips dipped in the hollows of her collarbones, caressed her breasts, stopping momentarily to knead, pinch and tease before continuing down her ribcage, abdomen and hips. Placing his hands on her thighs, he slowly parted her legs and moved down between them. “Devin.” His name was a breathy plea. “Please.” “Hush, ma petite. Allow me to pleasure you.” He began to massage her outer folds with his thumbs, his other fingers pressed into her thighs. “I want to hear you scream my name as you experience la petit mort.” The little death. He let his words flow warm and seductive over her heated core. She quivered. He applied pressure on her clit and she mewled, jerking away from his touch, but quickly pushing back into it. A smile tipped the corners of his mouth as he continued to play with her. “I want to feel you writhe beneath me as your body and soul are sated.” She was responsive to his touch, including the stroke of his voice. “Devin.” She threw back her head, arched her back and unconsciously spread her legs wider. He answered with sinking a finger into her moist pussy. She was hot and wet as he pumped in and out. “Ahhhh…” Her pelvis rose, then jerked away, her hips twisting and thrusting. She almost seemed confused. “What do you want, Charlene?” He hummed, knowing she felt the quiver throughout her body as she shook with desire. She curled her fingers in his hair and pulled him closer. “You. Dammit. You.” He chuckled with male pride as she tightened her inner muscles around his finger. “What do you want me to do to your beautiful body?” Another finger joined in the play, filling her. Her hips thrust forward, then ground against his hand. “F-fuck me, Devin. Please take me.” He felt like he held the whole world in his hand. “You are magnificent in the throes of passion. Like a butterfly emerging from its cocoon.” A ragged breath pushed through her taut lips. “Shut the fuck up! No more talk. Eat me—now!” Again, he laughed. “Ma petite is impatient.” “Your petite is horny as hell. Now show me what you’ve got, big boy,” she growled. She frowned as he moved from atop her. Getting to his feet, he moved, retrieving a small tube of lubricant out of the nightstand by the bed. He stood quietly for a moment, wondering if she realized what his intent was. Fire flickered in her eyes before she grinned. “On your hands and knees.” His voice was a throaty groan. She complied without hesitation, turning over, raising her rounded ass and then glancing over her shoulder with a sensual look that made him scramble upon the bed as he unscrewed the cap on the lubricant. This woman would be the death of him. He squirted the cool gel into his hands, warming it, as he leaned forward and nipped the fullness of one ass cheek with his teeth.

A delightful squeal broke from her lips. Placing a finger at her taut entrance, he began to work the gel over the outside skin, dipping carefully inside to prepare her for his cock. She moaned, resting her head on her hands, lifting her ass higher and baring her folds with the position. She was so wet her juices were dampening her thighs. Soft muffled cries met the thrust of another finger inside her and then another. So tight. Extracting his fingers, he moved behind her. Blood shot to the head of his erection as he slicked it with gel and positioned it before her rosebud. Slowly he nudged inside. She arched against him. He pushed, working carefully past the taut ring of muscle. God, she was wet and warm and responsive, moaning as he reached around her, sinking a finger into her pussy. She drove against him, taking him deeper, then whimpered, and he knew she was close. Through the thin membrane, he felt the movement of his finger in rhythm with his cock. His erection jerked and throbbed. He wouldn’t last much longer himself. He pinched her clit and she screamed, “Devin!” Her back bowed. She bucked beneath him, his cock slipping in and out of her ass, his finger dancing around her clit. His free hand cupped one of her breasts, kneading. He found a taut nipple, hard and begging for attention. He rolled it between his fingers and squeezed. One after another, violent tremors shook her and he felt her orgasm as it rushed through her body. It was such an exquisite feeling. She was hungry for his touch. His alone. Her cry was all Devin needed to set his own orgasm into motion. White fire ripped through his groin, his seed filling her ass as his finger continued to pump in and out of her sex. She was slick as he slid faster in and out of her tightness. The sensation beyond anything he had expected. Flexing muscles milked his cock and finger as she sucked him further inside her body. She was his. At this moment, all his. His incisors lengthened and he fought the urge to bite her neck and take her sweet blood. His tongue swept over his lips. She would taste wonderful. Yet he couldn’t chance a repeat of what happened the first time he had sated his hunger. He’d almost killed her and started the conversion process. One more exchange and she would join him—become the mistress of his dreams. Desire and guilt warred inside him. No, he would not convert her without her consent. He thrust one last time and his hands stilled, smoothing over her warm flesh. She moaned, sliding so that she lay on her stomach, taking him down upon her with the movement. As the aftermath slowly waned, he slipped from her body, rolled to the side and pulled her to him. Her eyes were heavy. He had nearly forgotten the earlier ordeal and all she had dealt with tonight. He couldn’t help wanting to wake with her in his arms tomorrow night. Would she cross over? Would she become his forever? Their eyes met and he didn’t try to retract his fangs or hide his hunger. Nervously she wet her lips. “I can’t.” Blood rushed to stain her cheeks as disappointment filled his chest. His top lip slowly covered his incisors. “I understand,” he said, unable to mask the hopelessness in his tone. The morning was creeping in. His body was

becoming lethargic, the need to seek his rest almost as overpowering as his frustration. “I must go.” His arms slithered from around her as he scooted off the bed. He gathered his robe, pushed his arms through the sleeves and tightened the sash. Charlene’s eyes were filled again with unshed tears, but she didn’t speak. And that’s how he left her. Speechless and alone.

Chapter Fifteen Charlee felt bound to Devin as if their hearts were shackled together. How could she let this happen? When had she let down her guard and fallen for the man? Or was it just lust? For God’s sake, he was a vampire. She pulled the comforter up over her shoulders, seeking warmth. His departure had left her cold, empty, and alone. Never had she felt this way. She was a career-minded, independent woman who didn’t need anyone. But the night’s events had shattered everything, revealing her weaknesses. She needed her brothers, even arrogant and pushy. She needed them—couldn’t do without them. And for some irrational reason, she needed Devin. She felt the weight of the ring on her finger as a reminder. No matter how she fought the inevitable, deep inside she knew they were meant for each other. They fit one another. Before now, she had been a car without wheels, a tire without spokes. He completed her like no other man could. She lay back, facing the door, and startled when the knob rattled. She couldn’t resist the smile that tilted her lips as the door squeaked open. Soft footsteps slid across the floor. Devin had returned. “I know you do not sleep.” The deep voice was not what Charlene had expected as she sprung into a sitting position. Frantically she pulled the covers up to hide her nudity. Damien stood before her, his dark eyes pinning her as tightly to the bed as any ropes or chains could. “Je suis désolé.” His aloof expression showed no apology, neither did his cool tone. She brushed a hand through the air, pointing toward the door. “Haven’t you heard of knocking?” Damn the man. He gave her quite a start. Her pulse raced, her heart pummeled against her chest. His movements were graceful, but predatory like a cat as he crossed the room. “Again, I am sorry to have frightened you, but we must talk. I ask that you close the path between you and Devin.”

This man was dangerous and she didn’t need the goosebumps scampering across her arms to tell her that. He reeked of it as he came to sit on the side of the bed. His dark eyes burned into her. His nostrils flared and she knew he scented her and Devin’s sex in the air. By the bulge in his pants hardening before her, the way his gaze stroked her body beneath the coverings, she knew he was thinking about their fantasy sex. Well hell. What was she suppose to do now? It would be silly to think she could outrun him. For the first time since she met Damien, she saw the man’s confidence waver. The bed moaned as he shifted. “Close the path. I feel Devin stirring in his sleep.” She knew damn well what he asked. But she couldn’t help the sarcasm that followed. “And pray tell how do I close the path?” Not to mention that she would be at the man’s mercy if she couldn’t call to Devin. Why was Damien not aground? How did he face the light of day, when apparently Devin could not? His lips curled in a sibilance of a snarl. “Little one, do not test me. It is late. I am tired. Gloria awaits me.” Charlee lurched forward. The comforter slipped, revealing a breast. “You keep your hands off of Gloria.” His gaze dropped. “Cover yourself,” he snarled, showing more teeth than she cared to see. Still, she let the bedspread slip further down to her waist. Her nipples unexpectedly tightened as the cool air caressed them. “Fuck you.” Had she lost her mind? With Damien, she surely tempted the devil. Yet she found the courage to lean forward and murmur, “Stay away from Gloria.” Silently Charlee called to Devin but her thoughts were intercepted by Damien. The link between Devin and Charlee closed like the slamming of a door, knocking her back upon the bed. She tried to rise, but her body lie frozen, unable to move. Frustration, not to mention a good dose of fear icing up her spine, caused her to scream, “Let me go, bastard!” as she struggled in vain. There was male arrogance in his soft chuckle. “You are a handful indeed.” He rose from the bed, stared down upon her and extended his hand toward her. Another scream clawed its way to her throat, the sound dying a silent death as he grasped the covers and pulled them up to her neck. She almost laughed in relief. Instead, the sound came out a whimper. His touch was gentle as his knuckles stroked the line of her jaw. “You have nothing to fear from me, little one. I only seek my brother’s happiness and safety.” Charlee swallowed hard. “Safety?” Again, he sat down on the edge of bed. “Oui.” There was sadness in his tone. Life was coming back into her body as he released his mental hold on her. “From what?” she said as a brush of concern pushed her into a sitting position. “From himself.” She cocked a brow in question. The lines in his forehead hardened. “Devin refuses to convert you to our

world without your consent.” With attitude, she said, “And the problem is?” “You,” he stated bluntly. She drew back as if he hit her. “Me?” “You are his mate.” He stood abruptly. “Without you he cannot live—wouldn’ t want to. It is foolish that he has not forced the issue.” “Foolish?” The heat of anger flushed across her face. She pulled the comforter around her nakedness and slipped out of bed to stand before him. Even on tiptoes, she only came to his chest. “You damn arrogant man. No one forces me to do anything.” “Then he will die for your stubbornness to not see the truth.” He reached for her, strong fingers closed around her biceps and shook. Charlee felt the rattle clear to her teeth. “He is your lifemate. You belong beside him, not walking the light, getting yourself into trouble.” His eyes darkened. His lips parted, revealing his fangs. She gasped. “Perhaps I will convert you and save Devin the trouble.” A loud menacing roar filled Charlee’s head. Damien released her as if she were suddenly on fire and took a step backwards. Had he, too, heard Devin’s fury? When the rumble died, Devin said, “Damien.” Charlee had never heard a threat issued so unmistakably clear with one word. “Oui,” Damien said aloud as if he spoke on a different path than the three of them shared. He nodded and had the sense to look contrite, then bowed. “Je suis désolé.” Before she could respond to his apology, he disappeared. No good-bye, nothing, just vanished into thin air. In disbelief, she pressed a palm to her mouth. God, what have I got myself into? “Ma petite, you need your rest. Sleep and we will talk tonight.” Devin’s reassuring voice gently stroked her mind as he caressed her body with his thoughts. She couldn’t resist leaning into his invisible touch. Her hand fell to her side, the comforter tumbling to the floor. The coolness of the air raised the soft down across her skin. She felt the press of his lips against her throat, the swirl of his tongue, wet and warm, lavishing the vein that began to throb and ache. “Is what Damien said true?” She arched her neck. God, she needed to touch him, feel him deep inside her body. “Oui. You and I have spoken of this before. Still you deny destiny.” Moisture gathered between her thighs. The need for him grew stronger as her breasts became laden with desire. “Yes, but will you actually die?” Devin went eerily silent. When he finally spoke, she heard the truth in his dark tone. “I would not wish to live. The evil that you have seen this day would be me.” Again, he became quiet. When he said, “I will take my own life before that happens.” Charlee felt his pain deep within her heart. “Devin—” “Hush, ma petite. I am tired and do not wish to discuss this further.” She hated the resignation she heard. “I only wish to retire.”

“You’re not—” “No. I rose once I sensed our path closed.” Charlee said no more and even allowed the invisible force that nudged her back to the bed. On her own accord, she crawled beneath the sheets. The pressure on her lips was only a whisper. “Good night,” he said, leaving her alone except for her thoughts. Charle’s cell phone was going crazy. She sprung from the bed, cool air caressing her nakedness as she retrieved the small annoyance from the dresser. With a flip of a finger, she opened it and pressed it to her ear. Nothing. Another call missed. Quickly, she punched in the number to receive her messages. There were four from George Benton. The man was demanding results. In the last message, he had mentioned something about returning money and finding another PI. Dammit. That would be the end of her career. Solving a case the police were unable to would earn her notoriety. Not to mention, the money was gone. A girl had to pay her rent and eat. No way would she crawl back to her brothers and admit failure. They’d have her back in Hollywood faster then you could say, “Check please.” Somehow she’d give Mr. Benton what he had already paid her to do. It was time to locate Stacy Benton’s killer and even up some old scores. A shiver raced up her backbone as she thought of James and Gloria and the life they would now live—a life without light, blood for substance, and walking the nights alone. Dammit. This was her fault. She had to do something. Her only lead was Jacque Montague. She knew he held the key. Every nerve tingle with sensation telling her she was on the right track. Again, she keyed in a number on her cell phone, but this time she called Montague. “Not before six o’clock,” Montague’s secretary said over the telephone when Charlee asked to meet with him. “Bombay club at six o’clock tonight then,” Charlee repeated to the secretary. That would be cutting it close. She wanted to meet at five-thirty that way she could make it back to Devin’s house before dark. No way would she attempt facing the rogue vampire by herself. Besides, Devin and Blake would both have her hide if they woke and she wasn’t there. “I’ll give him the message,” the secretary snapped before she cut the connection. Charlee sighed as she jerked on a pair of jeans, a shirt, and her tennis shoes. It was five now. Hopefully Montague would get the message and be on time. No one could say Charlee hadn’t learned her lesson. It seemed like every time she left Devin’s house something happened to her. Well, not this time— even in the daylight. She whipped out her cell phone again and punched Jack Black’s number as she took the stairs one at a time, careful not to make any noise or rouse anyone in Devin’s household, including Blake, as she paused at his door. Poor baby. I bet you’re dead tired. Dead? Not a good choice of word in this company. She tiptoed onward.

She should have thought of her muscleman sooner. Surely, Jack would be back from Lafayette by now. As the sharp rings echoed in her ear, she chuckled. He wasn’t going to believe this. Vampires in New Orleans. Now that had to be a surprise. “Hmmm…” His sleepy voice came over the telephone. “Get your lazy ass out of bed. I need you,” she softly joked, looking both ways before entering the foyer. She smelled baked bread before she heard Millie humming as she moved around the kitchen. “Doll? Is that you?” Jack’s deep, slow Louisiana accent made her smile. “Yeah,” she whispered. “You’ve got ten minutes to meet me at the French Market.” “Trouble?” “A shitload.” She snapped the cell phone closed. The sun was warm against Charlee’s back as she slipped from Devin’s house, making her way to the French Market. The shrill cackle of birds fighting in the bare branches of an oak tree and the several tourists she passed on the street were white noise in her head. Life raged around her, but she was oblivious. Determination rang in her footsteps. She was focused on one thing and one thing only. No one else would get hurt from her carelessness. That feeling she got every time she left Devin’s house lay heavy in her chest. It had been amazingly easy to slip by a sleeping Blake, and Millie who’d been busy in the kitchen. But once she stepped outside, the weight of the world crashed down upon her. Even now, she could hear Blake’s tirade and Devin’s quiet reprimand. Okay, it might not be quiet once Devin discovered she intended to see Jacque Montague again. But hell, they should at least give her credit that Jack would be there with her. Charlee stubbed her toe on the cracked sidewalk and nearly lost her footing at the thought of Devin’s rage. Montague knew something. Her instinct had never failed her even though she had only been doing this for a little over a year. She was good, dammit. Of course, she had thought Montague guilty of murder prior in their previous encounter. Still, he knew something and she had every intention of finding out what. This was her job and she intended to finish it her way. And she’d have Jack by her side that should count for something. When she reached the French Market, she glanced at her wrist. Crap. Forgot the watch again. When she looked up a taxi pulled directly in front of her. One of the back passenger doors swung open and she froze in her steps. Not again. Jack’s bald head appeared. His eyes half-shuttered, dreamy, he asked, “Coming, doll?” A breath of relief rushed from her lungs. “How’d you get here so fast?” He scooted over and she crawled in beside him. “Connections, sweetheart. Now what’s this all about?” She glanced askew at the driver. “Later.” To the cab driver she said, “Drop us off at the corner of St. Philip and Burgundy.”

Jack’s dark brows rose in question when she didn’t give the driver her exact address. She shrugged. “Habit.” She didn’t trust many people, especially a strange cab driver. It didn’t take long before the taxi stopped and both Jack and Charlee climbed out of the car. Jack dug a twenty out of his pants pocket and paid the driver before they turned to leave. After only a brief walk, they rounded the corner and approached her building. With quick steps, she climbed the stairs to her apartment. She jerked to a stop. The door was ajar. Jack was a robust man, muscular and hardy. His strong fingers circled her arm, dragging her backward and behind him as he pulled his gun out from beneath the light jacket he wore. He had another at the waist of his jeans and a third stuffed in his boot like always, she was sure. Cautiously he took one stair step and then another. Keeping close to him, Charlee eased her gun from her jacket. Jack pushed the door wider. She prayed it wouldn’t squeak, announcing their presence. Whoever broke into her house was still there, which was evident by the shuffling noise coming from her bedroom. When she heard that familiar hyena laughter, she was engulfed with a fury from deep within her that she never knew existed. This was the bastard who had buried her alive. She clenched her teeth. It was all she could do to let Jack maintain control of the situation. Inching forward, Jack reached the door to her bedroom and quietly waited beside it. She stood behind him, watching his back, gun at the ready. These creeps traveled in pairs. When the tall, raggedy man appeared before the door, Jack greeted him with a right hook, landing his punch squarely in the middle of the intruder’s face. A cracking sound gave Charlee a brief feeling of satisfaction. Hyena-man flew through the air and slid across the room when he landed on the floor. Joe. She remembered him calling himself when he had called her that first night to meet him in the cemetery. The thought of that evening made her temper flare, anew. When Joe’s head rose, blood dripping from his nose like a spigot, he looked straight into the barrel of Jack’s gun. “Trouble, doll? This was a piece of cake.” Jack spoke too soon. A shot rang out from inside the bathroom connected to her bedroom. Charlee’s heart lurched as she cut her gaze from the hallway in time to see Jack’s body jerk. He turned slowly. In his carefree manner, he shrugged and gave a half-ass smile. He gasped as a small red spot appeared on his chest, growing with each ragged breath he took. Jack had been shot. She aimed her gun at the bathroom door, ready to release a myriad of firepower. Her pulse raced, her heart pounding like it would jump from her chest. A thud sounded beside her.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Jack collapse to his knees. She pinned her hot gaze back to the bathroom door. Jack was silent, so silent. She didn’t dare take her eyes off the direction the shot came from. Another thud as Jack hit the floor face first. Her stomach churned. She was going to be sick. “Lady, I wouldn’t do that,” Joe’s nasal voice warned. She didn’t need to look to know he had his gun marked on her, but she did anyway. “Now, lower da’ gun.” He glanced at his short, stodgy friend who peered behind the bathroom door. “Drug the bitch,” he snarled, wiping blood from his nose with the back of his hand. Gone. The damn woman was gone again, but this time Charlene had successfully closed down the path between them. Devin couldn’t sense her whereabouts, which was strange because he had the power to break through her attempts to deceive him. Something was wrong. Before he reached the kitchen that now smelled of crawfish cooking, he was met by Lucius and Damien. Millie stood at the stove stirring the spicy contents in a pot. Blake sat at the table, buttering a slice of cornbread. He took one look at them and the bread began to crumble in his folding hand. “Where’s Char?” When no one responded, Blake pushed to his feet. “Where’ s James?” The man began to tremble. Devin didn’t know if it was from anger or fear for his siblings. “Your brother is at rest,” Damien responded before Devin could. He placed his hand on Devin’s arm in warning. “It is best to not excite this man,” Damien shared through their mind link. “I want to see him,” Blake insisted quickly, closing the distance between them after he tossed his napkin down on the table. Like a referee, Millie situated herself between the men. “I have checked on your brother and it is as Damien says. He is resting, doing well. Another day and you should be able to see him.” Fact was that a newly converted vampire was not fit for human association, unless they wanted to be dinner. Gloria, too, was fed and put aground to keep her safe and out of harm’s way while Devin and his brothers hunted the rogue vampire. “The same would be true for your own mate, if you had converted her as is your right,” Damien chastised. Devin jerked from his brother’s grasp. “You know it is true,” Lucius added. Hell yes, Devin, knew it was true. But he couldn’t bring himself to take from Charlene what she cherished, her independence and the light of day. When she came to him, it would be her choice and no one else’s. “Where is Char?” The heat in Blake’s voice filled the kitchen. For the moment, he appeared to have accepted their recommendation regarding his brother. Before Devin could answer, Lucius said, “The damn woman has slipped out of the house once again.” Both Damien and Devin pinned Lucius with their glares. “Well, she has. The only way to keep her here is to put her under lock and chain.” “Where has she gone?” Blake demanded. His face flushed with displeasure.

“I am unable to track her,” Devin admitted. “And why the hell not? Didn’t you tell me that you two had this mind link?” “Yes, but someone is blocking our path,” he explained. Blake went sheet-white as blood drained from his face. “He has her.” Charlene’s brother did not pose his words as a question. Like Devin, he knew exactly where Charlene was. Life seemed to seep from him as he paled. “I don’t even know how to fight this bastard.” He looked pleadingly at Devin. “How do we find her?” Devin could see Blake reach deep inside for the strength he needed. “Tell me how to kill this thing,” he growled, his body rigid, his teething grinding against each other. Devin hesitated; it was not a good idea to share with any human a vampire’s weakness—his heart. Without it, life ceased. But as for a human getting close enough to cut it out—well, that was another thing. “You must have some idea where Char is.” Blake’s desperation hung heavy in the air, a desperation that Devin felt as well. The thought of what the vampire might do to Charlene made Devin’s skin crawl. “Montague,” Devin whispered more to himself. “Jacque Montague? The man Char is investigating?” Blake asked as he pulled his forty-five from its holster. His keen sight grazed over the weapon, ensuring he had a full round ready and locked. He crammed the gun back into place and pushed past Millie and the rest of them as he headed for the front door. “We need a plan,” Lucius insisted as he followed Blake’s footsteps. At first, it appeared Lucius was going to attempt to stop Charlene’s brother. He reached out, hesitating, before he pulled back his hand. Devin, as well as his brothers, realized that Blake was not a man to mess with, especially now when his control lingered by a thread. Adrenaline was an amazing substance. Although Devin and his brothers possessed supernatural strength, humans had done miraculous things when pushed to extreme limits. And the man before Devin had been pushed beyond his. “Blake, we can get to Charlene quicker using our method of transportation.” Blake hesitated at Devin’s words. Yet Devin knew his next suggestion would be like fire to a fuse. “Stay here.” Blake pivoted on the ball of his foot. Tension gathered along the man’s neck. A vein bulged in his forehead. “Fuck you, Leduc. This is my sister you’re talking about. If you think I’ll stand by idly, you’re fucking crazy.” Devin had anticipated Blake’s reaction; still he had to make the effort to keep the man safe. If anything happened to another of Charlene’s brothers, Devin couldn’t live with her pain or the guilt. He turned to his brothers and said, “Go. We will follow.” Millie gave Devin a big hug as she kissed his cheek and followed them through the house toward the library. “You will take care. Oui? And bring back our Charlene?” “Oui. I will not return without her.” He didn’t need to say more, because without Charlene he would be lost. His life would be over. His brothers and Millie knew he meant it. It was there in their saddened expressions. Without another word, Devin moved through the French doors and onto the

balcony before shift-shaping into a large, black winged bird. Bones cracked and muscles and tendon stretched as arms became wings and feathers materialized from his pores. To Blake’s credit he did not cringe, nor did he run as Devin raised his beak and released an anguished shrill that echoed through the night. Devin’s respect grew for the man who would have to accept his own brother’s transformation and, with time, perhaps even his sister’s. Devin began the mind-spell to block the flight from Blake’s mind when he said, “No. Don’t hide anything from me. You are what you are.” But Devin knew the man sought to uncover his strengths and, more importantly, his weaknesses. Blake was clever, one not to underestimate. Devin did as asked, leaving Blake conscious for the trip they would make together. With a flap of his powerful wings, he took flight, swooping low to grab Blake into his talons. The man’s pulse sped, the tension in his body tightened beneath Devin’s grip as they rose into the air. Devin cast a glamour spell, shielding them from those out this night. Clouds obscured the stars and moon, making the night pitch black. “F-fuck,” Blake muttered, gripping his hands around Devin’s legs as they took to the sky, the wind rushing by them with a whoosh. Charlene’s brother said no more as they soared through the night. He even remained silent when they landed at the front door of Jacque Montague’s mansion. It was a large, imposing estate meant to intimidate by its high walls, stately elegance, and lush acreage. Devin didn’t wait for an invitation to enter; he simply grasped the knob and opened the locked door with a push from his mind. Blake seemed to get his land legs back quickly as he pushed past Devin and bellowed, “Montague!” From what looked to be a den, Montague appeared dressed in silk black pants and red brocade smoking jacket. Damien and Lucius followed close behind him. Montague held a glass of amber liquid in his hands. From Devin’s own experience, if a vampire was drinking alcohol he did it to forget. There were deeply etched lines in the man’s forehead. Blake didn’t lose any time in pulling his gun and pointing it directly at Montague’s heart. “Where is she?” Blake’s expression had turned eerily cold. Devin could see Blake would not blink an eye killing Montague if the vampire had harmed Charlene in any way. Both Lucius and Damien stepped around Montague and took a defensive stance in front of him. Before Blake could react Damien spoke. “He is not responsible for your sister’s disappearance.” A nerve twitched in Blake’s jaw, but his hand was steady. Yes, this human was dangerous. Devin had seen the same trait in Blake’s brother, James. Love was in the tenderness of his eyes when he looked at Charlee. When James rose and found out his sister was in danger there would be no stopping him. Although on the outside Devin remained calm, his insides were a torrid mess, a whirlpool of emotions agitating wildly. He had to find Charlene. Their bond told him she was alive, but for how long? A deafening “click” broke the silence as Blake cocked his gun. “I’ll ask you once more. Where is she?” he snarled.

Beside Blake, Devin bared his fangs and hissed, feeling his control begin to shatter like the shell of an egg. He knew Montague was the only lead they had to Charlene. With one gulp, Montague finished the remaining brandy in his glass. His eyes were heavy with sorrow. “He has Miss Madison. We must move quickly.”

Chapter Sixteen Ache. Every muscle in Charlee’s body felt stretched to its limit. And fuzzy. Her vision had never been so blurred. It was like looking through a film of gauze. She wasn’t conscious enough to evoke emotions, only wonder what was going on. Mouth dry, her tongue felt like a shriveled raisin in her mouth. Lips parting, she attempted to call out, but the only sound released was a moan. “Wonderful. You are awake.” Masculine sensuality stroked her ears. She smelled the scent of male cologne next, musky, butpleasant. Then the feel of skin against skin as fingers skimmed across her cheek. “Soft and exquisite.” The voice sounded familiar. But who? Blinking once, twice, Charlee tried to focus in on the shape before her. The shadow moved away and when he returned, he pressed something cool to her lips. “Drink,” he said. She had the good sense to turn her head away, the only part of her body that didn’t feel paralyzed. Then she remembered. Jack. Was there any chance he was alive? She felt tears well in her eyes. She blinked, fighting them back. This was such a fucking mess. A deep chuckle met her defiance. “It is but water, my love. You are parched. Oui?” Again, the cool sensation was pressed to her lips. This time she drank. She drank because somehow, she was going to get out of here and when she did, they were dead, including the vampire. Ice tinkled in the glass as water touched her tongue and flowed down her tight throat. She swallowed. Remnants drooled from the corner of her lips down her chin and neck. As he tipped the cup higher, she drank hungrily. Her anger grew. “Enough. I do not wish for you to become ill.” Charlee closed her eyes, willed her sight to clear. It was then that she felt the hardness surrounding her wrists and ankles. She was shackled against a cold stone wall. Her bravado slipped. A slice of fear threatened to rip through her. Not now. Be strong. Think. She took a deep breath, drawing on the place inside her where calmness and rational thought hid. She opened her eyes and widened them. The vampire

’s face blurred, then cleared and came into focus. “Jacque Montague.” His name was only a whisper on her lips. She had been right about the son of a bitch. Angrily she pulled at her bindings. This man had to pay for what he did to Stacy, to Gloria, to James and Jack. Dramatically, he brushed a lock of dark hair from his forehead revealing an angry scar, a mark that hadn’t existed several days ago when first she met Jacque Montague. “No, my love. I am Pierre.” Everything fell into place. The witness had seen Jacque Montague with Stacy before her murder. Gloria’s attack. Charlee would have sworn her friend was ravished by Jacque Montague. Instead, his mirror image stood before her. “Twins! You two are brothers. Identical twins.” “Oui.” He smiled, revealing the same beauty his brother held. But something was missing, something that prickled her skin. This time when his fingers reached for her, touching her cheek, they felt clammy and cold, almost as if a snake slithered across her skin. Thank God she still had the clothes on she had been abducted in, the ones she had on when she left Devin’s. She couldn’t bear being naked for this man’s touch. Charlee struggled against the hard iron that held her immobile. Her head jerked away as her gaze darted around the room. Gray stone walls, axes and knives, chains and more chains were strung about. Holy shit. She was in some type of dungeon or torture chamber. Right before her eyes, his appearance lost its beauty. Dark masculine features melted to skin that looked paper-thin hanging loosely against bone. Deep blue eyes turned black, soulless. Charlee’s skin crawled. “Don’t touch me.” “My love, I plan to do more than touch you. Of course, when I had first heard your name, knew that you hunted me, I simply wished you dead. But you were rescued. Thankfully.” Instead of the warm, sexy voice he’d previously displayed, a harsh and threatening ugliness filled his tone as he leaned into her. She jerked back as far as she could restrained in chains. “You’re responsible for burying me?” “Well, I gave the order for your death. My minions chose the method.” He grinned. “Creative, weren’t they? You were becoming quite a nuisance.” “Creative? Nuisance? You son of a bitch!” She was thinking of head butting him when his sharp fangs gnashed and clicked inches away from her face, melting her anger. She had never seen anyone or anything more terrifying than the animal that stood before her. “You are my destiny.” For a moment, he looked confused. “I should have known it was you, not the redhead, not the brunette.” He shook his head and smiled. “It matters not. What does matter is that we are finally together.” Fear slammed against her chest. She could smell his fetid breath, the scent of blood and death. Fingernails digging into her palms, she willed herself to think and not react. Not show the terror she felt oozing from her pores that would excite him. “What do you want, Montague?” Her voice failed her, coming out small and frightened. His palms cupped her face. He grinned, a yellow smile that turned her

stomach. “You will be my bride, share my power and life. Together we will rule the night.” He bent closer to her throat and his breath, hot and foul, touched her skin. His tongue flicked out tasting the vein that pulsed beneath it. The sudden image of Stacy’s torn throat and the carnage made the blood in Charlee’s veins freeze. It was hard to breathe—hard to think. She was helpless. This animal could kill her now and she couldn’t lift a finger to stop him. “Why me?” she managed to ask, fighting to hold on to the last bit of courage she possessed. “You will provide me what I need to feel alive again.” He stepped away, a sad expression furrowing his brows. Eyes cast downward in thought. “Emotions.” His head rose and he smiled. “Yes, you will return to me what I have lost, make me whole again.” She forced herself to appear outwardly calm, but panic was welling, sheer terror demanding to be released. The pounding of her blood was a roar in her ears. Only the bleakness in his gaze held her together. The man before her was conflicted. She sensed his uncertainty. Knew he must be fighting the demons Devin had told her about. “Pierre, you don’t want to do this.” His eyes glowed an evil red, cold and empty. Like steam releasing, he hissed, his features turning more demented. Beautiful hands were now gnarled. This time when he grasped her chin, sharp talons bit into her skin. “But I must,” he growled pressing his body to her shackled one. He was hard, aroused. The exact opposite to how she was feeling and he must have sensed it. He cupped her face, sinking his nails into her skin, the pain sharp. His chest rose and fell rapidly. The putrid smell of his breath was nauseating as his tongue ravished the blood swelling from the wounds he made on her cheeks. “Life’s nectar. An aphrodisiac.” His voice scratched across her ears like nails across a slick surface. “Say you’ll join with me.” Charlee heard the threat in his voice, felt the edge of madness he stood on. “Devin.” Silence met her cry. “Please, Devin, come to me.” She received no answer. Charlee wet her lips nervously. Survival meant leading this monster on. She had no other choice. She had to think of a plan and quickly. Devin’s ring circling her finger gave her an idea. “Yes.” Her reply was a whisper. “I wear your ring, don’t I?” Again, his expression went blank, confused. She wiggled her finger with the ring on it, as if to say “see”. “But, I need a dress. Uh, you are asking me to marry you?” Caught in a nightmare, she watched his features soften, the glamour he previously let fade slipped back into place. Once again, the handsome image of Jacque Montague stood before her. “Of course, my love.” Pierre moved toward her, pressing his lips to hers. She fought to hold back the lump that caught in her throat. “Stretch!” he bellowed. Feet shuffled behind the heavy wood door. When it swung open the creep she had come to refer to as Joe or hyena man entered. Charlee’s first reaction was anger. This was one of the fuckers who had buried her alive. Thankfully, self-preservation kicked in and she lifted her innocent gaze to Pierre. “I don’t like that man,” she said softly. As the vampire glided above the floor to hyena man, he reached out to him and crushed his larynx with one powerful hand. Joe made no sound as he

crumbled to the floor in a heap. Calmly Pierre looked over his shoulder, smiled, and he said, “You will never have to deal with him again.” “Oh-oh-oh—” Charlee began to tremble. Without any remorse, the vampire had killed a man. Killed him. Right in front of her. The beauty of Jacque, the madness of Pierre. She gasped. “Air.” There was no air left in the room. A disturbed expression appeared on Pierre’s face as he glanced at her and then the lifeless body at his feet. “He still offends you.” Nonchalantly he strolled across the room to stand before her. Raising his hands, the manacles at her wrist and her ankles clanked open. She almost fell from the loss of support. Instead, she landed in his arms. She couldn’t help the quiver of fear that raced through her body. “My love, we shall retrieve a gown fit for a queen.” He snaked his arm around her shoulders and escorted her out of the room. As they walked through the dark, vacant mansion, Charlee wondered why he hadn’t killed her like he had Stacy. Gloria had nearly died at his hands, but Charlee was alive. Why? Perhaps it was because she had been shackled and unable to fight him. Was it their rejection that threw him over the edge? There was no need to attempt escape at the moment. The man was stronger and quicker. With a little luck, an opportunity would prevail. A sneeze teased her nose at the musty smell of age. The house was older than dirt. Flakes of paint hung from the weathered walls. Furniture was scattered about, covered in white cloth that was dusty and wearing thin with years of neglect. “Whose house is this?” she asked. “Ours, my love.” He gave her a little squeeze. “Ours.” She forced a smile. Her teeth clenched tight. As they exited the house, a limousine with darkened windows pulled up beneath the portico. Charlee tensed as the driver’s door opened and a short, stout man got out and moved quickly to let them in. She couldn’t help the sneer she presented him with. The son of a bitch was the other man who had buried her alive and shot Jack. Still, as she stepped inside the car and slid across the leather seats, she refrained from comment, remembering what Pierre had done to Joe. Pierre followed, settling his hand on her thigh. “Hemline,” Pierre said as the man slid behind the wheel. The car door closed with a thud that made Charlee jump and the dimmer light went off. The clouds had scattered. There was a full moon, so vibrant she could see Pierre present her with a comforting smile, tender and warm. It was obvious how a woman could be ensnared in this man’s charm. The lights of the car brightened a path on the road as the vehicle began to roll. Asshole glanced over his shoulder and asked, “Do you wish to go to Hemline on Royal or Chartres Street?” Pierre’s hungry gaze stroked her body. “Chartres.” His hand began to slide up her leg. “Devin. Please, Devin, hear me.” “Charlene.” The interference that had blocked Devin’s path with Charlene was gone. He turned to his brothers, knowing they too heard her plea. The expression on his face must have given him away when Blake said, “What?”

Montague looked as if he had aged ten years since the previous night. “He has contact with your sister, as I do my brother. Pierre’s guard has slipped.” Devin knew Montague was aware there was only one choice this day and that was the death of his brother. He could read the despair on his face. Devin could not believe Jacque had a twin. The details had been explained quickly to diffuse Blake. If Montague’s brother had crossed over, the man before him was not far from doing the same. Devin felt for the man’s dilemma. “Devin.” The desperation in her voice twisted his stomach. He felt the vampire’s hand moving up her leg and his anger rose. Still, he attempted to remain calm. “You must not allow the vampire to know we speak. I will find you, ma petite. Until then remain silent.” He had hoped that his words would reassure her, instead he felt her muscles clench, her body become rigid. Through her eyes, Devin saw the vampire suspiciously watching her. He hated the carnal way the man looked at Charlene, hated that he touched her so intimately. But right now he needed to calm her. He needed time and only Charlene could provide it. “You must reassure him, petite guerrier.” Devin held his breath, afraid of how she might accomplish reassuring him. “Hemline. What an exquisite choice. I’m sure to find something suitable.” She attempted a forced smile as she patted Pierre’s hand and moved it further down her leg, closer to her knee. “Good girl.” Devin took an easier breath. “You must let me handle my brother.” Montague’s voice broke Devin’s concentration. When he turned to face him, he was moved by the sorrow rimming the vampire’s eyes. “He is my responsibility.” Damien, the ever-blunt one of the brothers, said, “Then you have failed in your responsibilities.” Devin knew that Damien thought of Gloria and of Devin’s mate now in danger. Montague’s guilt resurfaced as anger. He faced Damien with fire in his eyes. The air filled with electricity that even made the hair on Devin’s arms rise. “We mustn’t fight amongst ourselves,” Devin said. Time was of the essence and he was anxious to take flight. He placed a comforting hand on Montague’s shoulder. “You know what must be done. We will assist you in seeing that your brother seeks his rest this night.” Devin glanced at Lucius and Damien, knowing none of them would hesitate to finish the job if Montague could not. “Is anyone going to tell me what the fuck is going on?” Blake barked. The man’s patience had gone south. He was chomping the bit to get going. Devin pivoted toward Blake. “It’s time to rescue your sister.” “Well, it’s about fucking time,” Blake grumbled. Damien, Lucius and Montague’s bodies shimmered then dissolved into droplets of mist while Devin took bird form. Blake’s expression could only be described as stunned. He said nothing even when Devin circled his waist with his large talons and rose into the sky. The first thing Devin heard as he touched ground and released Blake was the unearthly screams coming from Hemlines’ establishment. Several

customers trampled and pushed their way through the entrance, making it impossible to get by. Without hesitation, Devin disappeared, invisible molecules slipping easily past the excited crowd as Blake charged against them. “Leduc!” he yelled, but it was too late to worry about Blake. Charlene needed him. Damn Charlene. He should have known that his little warrior would not wait for help. Devin inhaled deeply and caught the scent of blood and of Charlene. She was close, so close he could taste her on his tongue. Hunger and fear gnawed at his innards. Strong emotions, ones he had never known, drove him forward as he weaved quickly through the crowd. He could feel her apprehension as she moved among the people, one step ahead of the angry vampire who killed everyone in his path. Screams crashed against moans and cries of help as Devin materialized back into human form. He joined his brothers and Montague as they fought their way through the masses and out the back of the store and into the dark alley. The stench of garbage and death hung heavy. Devin’s breath caught. Twenty feet away was Charlene. As she turned to flee, Pierre Montague appeared out of the mist and she ran right into his arms. Her scream echoed through the small space. Jacque moved swiftly toward the pair. Stretching his arms in front of him, he cried, “Pierre, you must not—” But it was too late. The vampire bent over Charlene and sank his teeth deep into her neck. She struggled, her arms and legs kicking. She went limp as Pierre continued to drain her blood. Devin moved but not before Jacque took to the sky like a bullet shot from a gun. In his wake was a streak of lightning as he slammed into his brother. The impact was so great that Charlene flew from Pierre’s arms, bouncing off a trash can to lie listlessly on the ground. Confusion waged within Devin. It took only a heartbeat to send him to Charlene instead of seeking his revenge. She looked fragile, pale and broken. Her arm was twisted into an unnatural position as the wound at her neck oozed the last essence of her life. He fell to his knees, ignoring the pain as he gently gathered her into his arms. She was dying and there wasn’t anything he could do, except for what she had already expressed was not her wish. She did not want to become a vampire. Behind him, the war between Montague brothers raged. He knew his own brothers guarded the area, ready to make sure no others were harmed and that the job was finished this night. Moisture beaded in Devin’s eyes as he pressed his lips to Charlene’s and held her close. Her breathing was inaudible, the lift of her chest gone. “What do you wait for?” Damien yelled as he moved with preternatural speed to his side. “Do it now. I can feel her slipping away.” “I cannot. It is not what she desires.” Devin couldn’t stand the heaviness, the emptiness that gathered in his chest. He blinked hard and felt a tear slip down his cheek. In the distance, Devin heard the inhuman shriek of one brother while the

other released an anguished cry as his hand pushed through bone, muscle and tissue. There was a sucking sound as Jacque’s fingers closed around the pulsing heart of his brother and ripped it from his sibling’s chest. “You can’t survive without her.” Lucius spoke low, impatient as he gazed down upon the dying woman. “And I can’t live with the guilt of changing her into something she abhorred.” Devin pulled her closer to him. Thankful for the short time they shared together. “Charlene!” Blake’s voice rose as he caught sight of his sister. He ran to her side, sliding to his knees. He laid a palm on her back, feeling no movement. “Is she—” “Not yet.” Devin stroked her hair, feeling the silky strands slip through his fingers. “Soon.” “Do something. Save her,” Blake pleaded. The moisture welling in the big man’s eyes looked out of place. “It would not be her wish.” “Fuck her wishes. I’m her brother. Now save her as you did James. Char will accept it. She’ll know there was no choice.” Blake voiced what Devin prayed was so. “You can’t let her die,” Damien said. “Move aside and I will do it, as you have done for me and my mate.” Devin gazed upon the saddened faces before him. He worked quickly with the healing properties in his saliva and tongue to seal the vampire’s wound at her neck, to save what blood remained. He placed his wrist to his mouth, as his teeth sank into his flesh, he prayed they were right. Blood streamed from the open wound. Quickly he pressed it to Charlene’s lips. She was too weak to drink, so he pushed her with his mind to obey. Slowly she began to feed. When the pressure of her suction increased, he pulled his wrist away. Brushing aside her hair, he pierced her neck and drank. It was like fire and ice ripping through his veins. Devin’s cock hardened and images of fucking Charlene filled his head. He knew without touching her, she was wet and ready for him. He could smell her desire as her body filled with life. Unconsciously his hips begin to thrust and move to the pictures flooding his brain. A hand on his shoulder brought him back. He swirled his tongue around the two pinpricks at her throat then pressed his wrist to her mouth once more. When she received enough of his blood for the conversion, he extracted his hand and closed the wound with one swipe of his tongue. He drew her close, held her tight and silently prayed. When his gaze rose, it was to meet the grins of his brothers, the bewildered but thankful smile of Blake, and the tortured grimace of Jacque Montague. “She will be fine. Oui?” Montague asked. The weight of his brother’s death was in the tremble of the man’s voice. Devin glanced around the alley and saw all evidence of the struggle the two brothers fought was gone. “Yes. Thank you.” Montague nodded once. One moment his form was solid, the next invisible. His body dissolved into the mist, only a faint cloud as he streaked toward the sky.

Damien, Lucius and Devin shared his pain as they watched the stream fade. If not for Damien finding Gloria, Lucius and Devin would have been placed in the same situation as Montague and his brother. Now Damien was safe. Devin was safe. Unless, of course, Charlene woke with an attitude and decided to take out her maker. The only ones left to find their mates were Lucius and James, now that Charlene’s brother had joined their race. For a moment, no one spoke and then Blake said, “Take Char home to rest, recuperate, whatever you people do. I’ll stick around with these two and clean up.” He glanced toward Lucius and Damien, raising a brow. “You two can fix this so that the next threat we face isn’t an angry mob with stakes in their hands.” He chuckled; still Devin sensed the man’s uneasiness. Without being told twice, Devin’s muscles began to pop, tendons stretching and shrinking to accommodate his change. He gently gathered Charlene to him using his talons, spread his wings wide, and took flight with his mate pressed tightly to his chest. As the wind breezed around them, Devin couldn’t help the smile that crept over his face. He would wake each night with her in his arms. Fall asleep the same way. His wings rose and fell in a smooth cadence. On an upstroke, downy feathers twisted open to allow air to pass through. Like dancing fingers, the currents caressed him. His movements were graceful, fluid as they headed home. Charlene would not wake for several days except for feedings she would not remember. When she rose, the truth would be revealed. Whether the warrior in his woman would allow him to live or die, he would know soon.

Chapter Seventeen The dream was like no other Charlee had ever had. Damn if she didn’t feel funny, not to mention hungry. Mouth parched. The erotic dream of Devin touching and caressing her, taking her blood as he made love to her, released a flood of desire from between her thighs. She stretched, feeling the coolness of the sheet against her naked body, the rasp of cotton over sensitive nipples. As her eyes opened, so did the awareness that she was in an underground cavern. There were a few candles scattered about, still it seemed strange she could see in the darkness that surrounded her. She turned over in bed to find Devin sitting in a chair, watching her. She smiled, tilting her head to listen to the sounds of running water, crickets singing a serenade. It was peaceful, serene. Not the musty suffocating smell of dirt. Ohmygod! The memory of dirt—being buried alive—stole her sense of calm. Charlee came off the bed like she was shot from a canon. Her movements were lightning

fast and when she landed in Devin’s arms she gasped, “Get me out of here.” She should have known something was amiss when the next time she opened her eyes she was in the library, wrapped in a satin black robe that matched Devin’s. Dizzy, she rubbed her forehead and tried to rationalize what just happened and where the lapse of time had gone. “Devin?” Man, she hated the panic that seeped into her voice. “Something isn’t right.” Darkness shadowed his eyes and quickly disappeared into a warm smile. He took the couple steps needed to wrap her once again in his arms. “I know,” he whispered, as if it were an apology. His pulse was the first thing she noticed. She had heard his heart beat before, but never so clearly, as if it were a drum, the blood rushing through his veins like a river. Unconsciously, she began to nuzzle his neck. His earthy scent was stronger than before, almost as if she could smell the earth, rain and wind upon his skin. Her tongue darted out and tasted him. Damn, he made her hungry. There was an ache in her gums. It sounded like bone crunching, then the taste of blood. But other things caught her attention. The buzz of electricity stung her ears as it traveled through a maze of wires crisscrossing behind the walls. She raked her teeth lightly over the vein that pulsed beneath her tongue. The night birds and squirrels in the trees outside sounded as if she stood before them, even though brick and drywall separated them. Her fingernails raked down Devin’s back, eliciting a groan from him. The man was rock hard, his erection pressed firmly against her belly as he stood before her molded tightly to her body. Her breasts were heavy with desire. Her body screamed for his. She couldn’t help herself. Nor could she stop herself from stroking her tongue across his pulse, once, twice, before sinking her teeth into his heated skin. “The feel of your silky mouth feeding is so erotic.” His tone said it all. The fucking man had turned her into a vampire. Charlee came out of Devin’s arms as if he’d burst into flames. And for two cents, she’d start the fire herself. “You did it.” Her voice was a condemning lisp. Each word held incrimination thick enough to slice the air with a knife. “Let me explain, ma petite.” He held out his arms to her. It was a struggle against mind and body. Every ounce of her wanted to go to him, except for her brain. The pull was overpowering, her need all-encompassing. She couldn’t help the way her gaze stroked him and she was surprised when he moaned and moved his hips seductively as if he actually felt her touch. “Explain? How do you explain this?” She drew her lips in a snarl and ran her tongue across fangs that lengthened in her mouth, the taste of his blood on her tongue. Goddamn fangs. “Fuck. What am I suppose to do now? How do I get rid of them?” She pushed on them but they wouldn’t retract. Frustrated, she spun around, headed for the window, and glared out into the night. “You could first thank Leduc for saving your life.” Charlee cut a glance over her shoulder toward Blake. James stood beside him. She had been so furious

she hadn’t even heard them open the door and approach, even with the keen senses she evidently had gained. “James!” She whipped around and ran into his arms. He lifted off her feet and spun her around. Laughing, she reached out and held him at arm’s length. “You’re okay. You’re really okay.” “Thanks to Leduc,” Blake added, causing her to frown and ignore his comment. “How do you feel, James?” She cupped his face in her palms. He cocked a handsome brow. “How do you feel?” “Angry,” she murmured. “Look!” She curled her lips into a snarl that faded when James said, “Lucky.” “Pipsqueak—” “Man, I wish you wouldn’t call me that, Blake.” The blue vein in his neck called to her and she shut her eyes tight to ignore it. After a moment, she reopened them. Blake started again. “Char, you made the decision to save James’ life no matter what the outcome would be.” Blake glanced at Devin, who was unnaturally quiet. “I made the same decision for you.” From the corner of her eye, she saw relief flood Devin’s face. “You were dying. Leduc made no move to save you until I forced his hand.” “Bullshit,” she huffed. “It’s true.” Charlee turned to see Gloria walk through the open door, Damien and Lucius behind her. When Damien reached for Gloria, she slapped his hand and frowned. Her annoyance disappeared into a grin as she strolled to Charlee and hugged her. She glanced at Damien and whispered, “That damn man is a pest.” She stepped away. “What Blake says is true, sweetie.” She glanced over at Devin. “He’s a keeper, honey.” Charlee cut her gaze to Devin’s and then she saw it—the truth in his eyes. And there was more she couldn’t comprehend. Did he really care enough about her that he would have let her die, as well as ended his own life? Blake was right. She made the decision for James to live. Little by little, memories of the night she had been kidnapped flashed like headlights in her head. Chained to a wall, released, the ride to Hemlines, the screams—the godawful screams—and Pierre draining the life from her. Damn. Crow didn’t taste good. Nor did a room full of people looking at her like she was the lowest dog on the planet. Then she remembered Jack and another wave of sorrow washed over her. “Enough,” Devin spoke with the authority of a general. “You will leave us now.” He turned to her. “I’m sorry, ma petite. Your friend did not recover.” There was a moment of silence. Lucius slapped James on the back. “Come on, Hollywood vampire. Let me show you the nightlife of New Orleans.” Blake’s eyes widened. “Okay, the humanoid can go with us.” Everyone burst into laughter except Charlee and Devin. Damien again reached for Gloria, receiving a sharp slap on the wrist as she skirted around him and disappeared through the door. Evidently, their courtship wasn’t going well. As soon as the room emptied and they were alone, Devin turned, his robe

parting, giving her a delicious view of what lay beneath. As he walked toward her, muscles rippled below his sleek skin. He stopped when he stood directly before her. “Charlene, I—” She pressed a finger to his lips. One thing Charlee knew, a person had to live their life as the chips fell. Fortunately, hers had fallen into this exquisite man’s hands. Yeah, she might never see the light of day, but there were so many other things she could do. Look at the cases she could solve given her new powers. She could do it for Jack, for Stacy Benton and others who had fallen. She now had powers that were stronger than any weapon she owned. Yeah, there could be some additional benefits to this situation. “Uh… No,” Devin interjected into her racing thoughts. “No more chasing bad guys.” Her backbone went ramrod straight. “Excuse me? What am I going to say to George Benton?” “We will visit him together to plant a reasonable memory of the capture and death of his sister’s murderer. We will do the same with the police. This case is over. As is what happened at Hemlines. We have amazing powers of persuasion.” Excitement bubbled up inside her. “Devin, there is so much I can do to help people.” He nibbled on her neck sending chills up her spine. “No.” She squared her shoulders, trying to ignore the heat that was building in her body. “I don’t need your permission.” He bit her neck. “Ouch!” she squealed. He followed it up with a strong suction from his lips around the area. She arched into his touch. “Maybe we could come to some type of agreement. I could take certain cases. Ones that both of us agree on.” He released her neck and held her at arm’s length. “Agreement? You are willing to compromise?” “Yes, but you have to be willing to compromise too.” “No more murder cases,” he stated with a firmness that was final. “But—” His mouth touched hers, robbing her of any further objections. Gently, lightly, he coaxed until she opened for him. He jerked her to his chest, stealing her breath, her reason and sending her whirling into a vortex of feeling. Nothing existed except for his touch, his kisses. She opened her mouth, tasting him as their tongues met. Her fingers curled in the satin material of his robe as she embraced him tightly. She wanted more—needed more, releasing a whimper while the clenching hunger thrummed through her body. He cupped the back of her head, drawing her firmly into the kiss. Breathless, she broke the kiss. “And I don’t know if I can sleep buried underground.” “I understand, ma cherie. That is why I arranged for a bed in the cavern. I will ensure that you fall asleep and wake aboveground until you are comfortable.” The man had thought of everything to comfort her. “Fuck me, Devin. Now.” “Ma petite, I will not only fuck you…” He swooped her into his arms. She

circled her arms around his neck. Then he whispered in her ear, “I’m going to love you. All. Night. Long.” His wicked promise sent stinging tingles through her nipples that shot downward and pulled at her sex. She rolled her hips, trying to assuage the ache he aroused. Charlee felt his thought probe, hesitant and light. His mind was invading hers—a warm, sweet seduction. This time she opened to him, let her defenses down, eager to feel what he had to offer. She closed her eyes, but her body was open to sensation. He stroked her mind with his scent of desire and she saw what he planned to do even before he laid her on the soft Persian rug before the fireplace in the library. The heat of the flames on her skin was delicious as he slowly disrobed her once in her mind and again when he actually performed the task. The duality of events was explosive. Her body burned for his. She arched toward his palm that lingered above her breast. “Devin, touch me.” Her words were an airy plea, so close to the warmth of his hand that continued to hover. His voice was low, a whisper of hypnotic music. “Where, ma petite, do you wish me to touch?” She trembled and then whimpered, “Everywhere.” “Here?” He ran his finger lightly over a nipple, sending quivers again to shake her from head to toe. “Yes, oh God, yes.” “Or here?” His touch was like a feather as he slid his finger along her leg, past her knee and over her thigh. “Or here?” He cupped her pussy, sliding one finger inside her moist heat. Her hips rose on contact, her legs parting. His chuckle was soft and alluring, announcing his success. Charlee’s eyelids popped open. “Quit screwing around and fuck me.” She knotted her fingers into his robe and jerked him to her, forcing another laugh from him. A dark lock of hair fell over one eye as he caressed her with his gaze. “Ma cherie, you are impatient.” “No. I’m horny. Now! Shut up and kiss me,” she growled. And he did—with all the perfection that a kiss could be. Slow. Long. Intimate. He left no place untouched as he moved from her lips, down her throat, pausing at the pulse that called to him and burned beneath his tongue. Her head lolled back as her fangs burst in her mouth, sweet pain and the taste of her own blood thick on her tongue. Expert fingers pinched and teased her nipples before sliding down her ribcage to rest on her abdomen. Watching him covertly behind her lashes, she drank in his beauty as his teeth nipped her breast, his tongue caressing her nubs. His mouth on her breasts was hot and hungry, insistent. Each strong pull bathed her in liquid. She moaned at the sensation and pressed herself against him, loving the feel of his mouth. Heat swept through her body, setting her skin afire as he moved between her thighs. He looked up through sensual lashes lowered lazily to shadow even more sensual eyes, closed them briefly, inhaled, and he smiled before leaning forward to kiss her folds.

She felt like a livewire ready to implode. While he befuddled her senses with his seduction, her body was rising to a boiling point. White-hot sensation coursed through her veins. When he dipped his head, he slid his wet tongue along her slit and she cried out. She grabbed handfuls of his hair, pressing him to her as her hips rose to meet his searching tongue. “Aaahhh…” was all she managed to say as fire licked her womb. He moaned and she felt the vibration echoing deep inside. Tongue swirling, he licked and sucked. When he nibbled on her clit, she crashed against the rocks on the crest she rode. Over and over and over he lifted her high into the sky and sent her soaring through the heavens on wings of ecstasy. With strong hands he held her hips immobile, drawing out her climax, so one after another rippled through her. Devin heard her shaky intake and felt when she relaxed as he moved atop her. Knowing he placed the blissful look on her face stirred something inside him. He wanted to make this woman happy, wanted to see that smile touch her lips again and again. He wedged between her thighs and entered her slowly, astonished at how perfect she was—tight and fiery hot, surrounding him like a glove. She looked drowsy, sexy, thoroughly loved. “Mine. All mine,” he whispered as he rocked gently. The heat and friction of their bodies joining scented the air with their loving. He inhaled and savored the fragrance. This was the woman with whom he would spend eternity. Immortality was truly a gift. As he moved he watched her, thrilled by the way her brows tugged together when his cock struck the right place. The way her mouth parted on a whimper when he drifted away from the spot. Relentlessly he teased her, working her into a wild frenzy. Her back arched and her fangs burst from her gums, sharp and white. The bead of blood that formed at the corner of her lips made his incisors appear. Devin held his breath. The moment he had dreamt of had arrived. But would she shy away from taking his blood as he released? His name was a plea as she pulled him closer, her hips rising to meet his. The way she moved and writhed, pushing into his assault, sent white lightning sizzling and shooting up his shaft. When she dragged her fingernails down his back, blood rushed to the head of his erection and he almost lost it. She nuzzled his neck. Her tongue tasted his skin, caressed his pulse. He held his breath. When she pierced his neck, the earth shook and fire tore through his body. She cried out with her own ecstasy, but the sound was muffled as she continued to suck, taking his blood and seed into her. He knew her body would feel like fire inside. There was nothing like taking blood and climaxing all at once. For a second, his vision darkened from the intensity of his climax. He gulped in a mouthful of air as her inner muscles contracted, milking him until he collapsed atop her. Her tongue swirl around the pinpricks, closing them with her saliva. A shudder shook him at the feel of her hardened nipples pressing against his chest. Her fingers laced through his hair, locking and dragging him closer. She kissed the corner of his mouth, nibbled. Her eyes held his, mesmerizing in

the firelight. He hesitated, lowering his head to lick the bluish vein that pumped excitedly at her neck. There was a moment of absolute silence, of peace. Then she tilted her head and bared her neck. Sweet Jesus. He could feel everything and yet nothing as he sank his teeth into her throat. Pure. Unadulterated. Her blood was an aphrodisiac. He drank voraciously, insatiably. As he closed the pinpricks with a swipe of his tongue, Charlee curled up against his chest. Devin’s much larger frame curved protectively around her. His arms firmly locked around her waist, holding her possessively. “Charlene, are you okay with this?” She nodded. Her eyes bright and shiny. “Yeah, but I wanted to ask you about your brothers. If the three of you were born as vampires, then what do you do for birth control?” A wave of apprehension stirred inside him. “Do you not want my children?” Her palm caressed up and down his arm. “It’s not that. My career has been my utmost concern, until you.” Her words wound around him like a summer breeze. “I really hadn’t thought of children. I’m on birth control pills, so I guess it doesn’t matter.” He grinned. There was so much he had to teach her. “You’re thinking like a human, Charlene. We decide when conception will be. Your human contraceptives mean nothing to us.” “Oh.” She paused briefly. “I’m not pregnant, am I?” “No.” He held her tighter. “Je t’ aime, ma petit.” It felt right to express his love. Tears rose, making her blue eyes look like pools of water. “Devin.” She swallowed hard. “I love you, too.” She giggled and then burst into laughter. “I do. I do love you.” The surprise in her voice rang through the room. “And someday I would love to have your baby.” He loved the sound of her laughter, savored it, drank it up. “Ah, ma petite, I longed to hear you say that.” He pressed his mouth to hers. It wasn’t just a kiss, but fierce possession. Claiming her. Branding her. Devin’s hands spanned her back, gripped her bottom, lifting as he pressed his loins against hers so that she could feel the pulse of his desire. He gently bit her lip and she moaned, “Take me again, Devin.” “Over and over.” He rolled her on her back and crawled between her thighs. Love shone on his handsome face. “Again and again,” he whispered. The head of his cock pressed firmly against her wet slit. The look of carnal hunger in his amber eyes burned hot. “Forever.” He thrust inside her core, his last word flowing like silk over her body as he took her mouth in a kiss that left no doubt he meant exactly what he said. Charlee wrapped her arms around him and returned his fiery passion. She sighed. Immortality never sounded so good.

Mackenzie McKade To learn more about Mackenzie McKade, please visit www.mackenziemckade.com. Send an email to Mackenzie at [email protected] or join her Yahoo! group to join in the fun with other readers as well as Mackenzie! http://groups.yahoo.com/group/macsdreamscape/ Read on for an excerpt

Loup Garou By Mandy M. Roth A sexy paranormal romance, available now in print and for download at Samhain Publishing, Ltd. Look for Loup Garou in your local Borders bookstores! “Hey, who wouldn’t want to see me gyrate on a pole?” I asked, sarcastically. “Doesn’t everyone sit around waiting to see me make a fool of myself?” Backing up fast, I slammed into something solid. A warmth laced with soothing power wrapped around me. My breath caught and for a moment, I could do little more than stare at Myra with wide eyes. “We never have to wait long for you to make a fool of yourself.” A slow smile spread over her cocoa-colored face. She winked and my brow furrowed. Turning slowly, I found myself staring up into the blue eyes of one of the sexiest men I’d ever seen. He had to look down at me and that alone was enough to do it for me because at five-nine, I had trouble finding a man I could wear pumps with and not be taller than them. This stud was about six-five so there was no way I’d end up taller than him. His tousled black hair hung to his strong chin, putting emphasis on the tiny dimple there. I had difficulty tearing my gaze from his thick, corded neck and found my willpower only worsened as I dropped my eyes lower, tracing his broad chest displayed nicely in a snug navy T-shirt with a faint outline of a dragon on it. The thing looked like it had been worn several hundred times but I knew it was a designer piece instantly. The inner shopper in me applauded. “Umm, sorry.” As I went to move away from him, he took hold of my arm and sent fire shooting up it. My breath hitched as my inner thighs tightened. What? I stared at him, confused, horny, mesmerized. He raked his blue gaze over me slowly, heating various portions of my already aroused body. “Lindsay?” “Do I know you?” Please say yes. Please say yes. “Linds?” I drew a blank and offered up a soft smile. “Again with the ‘do I know you’ because I really don’t think I’d forget a body…err…face like yours.”

A black brow went up as a sexy grin moved over his face. I got the feeling he was hiding something. If I wasn’t so shocked and horny from his sheer presence, I’d have thought to question him more. As it stood, I was a little more concerned with begging him to have his way with me than anything else. “I believe we have an appointment.” It took me a minute to register what he was saying. “Oh, you must be the guy from Loup Garou. Umm…?” Myra leaned into me and whispered, “Exavier Kedmen.” The way she said it made me think I was supposed to just know him by his name. As much as I wished that was the case, I didn’t. My eyes lingered on his sexy lips as I nodded. He tilted my chin upwards a bit, leaving me envisioning how it would be to kiss him. The very idea of sliding my tongue over his lush lips made my heart beat faster. “Did you catch what she said? My name is Exavier. Not Blair.” Instantly, heat flared through my cheeks. “You heard that, huh?” He nodded. “Well, in my defense, I wasn’t staring at your abs when you told me your name. I was fixated on your mouth, Xavs.” The second I realized a shortened versioned of his name had popped out of my mouth, I shook my head. “Exavier, sorry.” There was something so familiar about him. I kept staring, studying him for anything that would trigger a memory. Nothing came to me. His lush lips curved upwards. I bit back a sigh. He smiled. “I know I’m early but I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop in. I brought coffee.” I perked up. “Coffee?” Turning, he glanced towards one of the two circular tables in the lobby. A travel carrier full of large cups of what I prayed was French vanilla flavored coffee sat there. I bit my lower lip and whimpered. The man was a dream come true. Sexy and bearing caffeine. “Lindsay?” Myra nudged me. “I think I smell vanilla.” “Vanilla?” It took all I had not to moan. Exavier nodded. I stared up at him and did the only thing I could think of doing to a man who brought me coffee, I threw my arms around his neck and hugged him tight. Lifting me up and off the ground, he took me by surprise. I expected him to act stunned, not to play along. Never one to want to lose the edge, I wrapped my legs around his waist and planted a kiss on his forehead. “Trust me when I say I won’t be calling you Blair any time soon.” “Lindsay Marie Willows, what are you doing?” Myra asked, an edge to her voice said she was doing her best not to laugh even though she didn’t agree with my choice for displaying gratitude. “Thanking the nice man for bringing me coffee.” I wagged my brows. “You know, I was just thinking about how coffee was right up there next to sex with things I’d rather be doing.” Myra smiled. “You certainly are well on your way to fulfilling both things then, aren’t you?”

I glanced back at the coffee and then down at the man who held me as if I weighed nothing. Visions of licking coffee off his smooth, tawny skin came to mind. I sighed. Myra laughed. “Oh, sweetie, I can see it in your eyes. No. It will burn him. That would be bad. Now, get down off the nice man before he presses charges.” “Hey, I hugged him. He’s the one who picked me up.” I tapped his shoulder. “He’s also the one who is putting me down now.” Exavier set me down but kept his hands on my hips. I did my best to appear anything but happy. I think I failed. “Okay, where was I before he went and distracted me with his lips, dimpled chin, blue eyes, broad shoulders…” Snorting, Myra shook her head. “Gee, anything else?” “Yes, coffee.” I gave her the evil eye. “That was just low. I think you tipped him off I’d be less than receptive about meeting with him. You told him to come bearing something I can’t turn down.” “What’s that? A great chin? Ask to see his obliques. I’m guessing they’re as perfect as the rest of him.” She winked at me and wiggled her hips in a sassy motion. “Bite me,” I said, blowing kisses at her. Snarling, Myra made fake scratching motions at me.

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