Immortal Distraction

The Immortals, Book 2

Elizabeth Finn

Published 2013

ISBN: 978-1-93176-163-5

Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © Published 2013, Elizabeth Finn. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

Manufactured in the United States of America

Liquid Silver Books

http://LSbooks.com

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Blurb

Detective Brit Sutton is the epitome of difficult. As a homicide detective, she learned early on that being a woman in a man’s world required a strong backbone, a harsh tongue, and nerves of steel. But when one of her cases leads her to Angus Scott, she’s finally met her match.

Angus is the head of the council of vampires for the eastern region of the United States, and it is his responsibility to run interference with her investigation when the prime suspect in a string of murders is one of his own. But Brit is a determined woman, and as much as she’s met her match, Angus has as well.

When his toying games turn from intense attraction to all out obsession, will he be able to stay his course? And when her life becomes threatened by the very suspect Angus is trying to shelter, will he abandon his need to distract her in order to protect her?

Chapter 1

Seventeen Years Ago

“Loser, loser, loser.” They were chanting again, just like the crowds of people always did at the football games, but these chants were mean, and these chants were for her. “Brit’s a loser.” Their words were sung in a well-used tune. This wasn’t the first time they’d done this, and before she knew it, the chant had morphed again. “Brit’s a hooker. Brit’s a hooker. Brit’s a hooker.” They were still singing as she stood clutching her books to her chest in the corner of the school corridor. She was biting the inside of her lip to the point she could taste the blood filling her mouth. But it was the only way to keep herself from crying.

“Why do you smell so effing bad?” The girl was her archenemy. She was blonde and beautiful, even at fourteen. She was everything Brit wasn’t. But she was a bitch. “I mean, don’t you fucking shower? Even hookers shower—didn’t your whore mother teach you anything?” The blood was now filling up the space between her teeth and lips, and she focused on the taste. It wasn’t the first time she’d bitten the inside of her mouth to keep herself from sobbing in front of them.

And then another one of the pretty girls chimed in. “No, Char. Her mother didn’t teach her anything, remember? She had to repeat the seventh grade because she’s so effing stupid. She’s stupid; she smells…” She was ticking off Brit’s best traits on her hand as though she was tallying them up for the group of kids that had her cornered in the deserted hallway. “And she’s disgusting…”

“And she’s ugly as a dead dog on the side of the street that’s been run over like a hundred times.” The boy was Gavin, and he was laughing and elbowing his buddies as he spoke. They all snorted out their laughter as though they were the funniest group of pricks in the world. Gavin was the male version of Char. They were the popular ones. Brit was definitely not.

Brit thought junior high had been bad; being held back was supposed to be the biggest hurdle she’d face. That’s what the counselor had said. But then she got to high school. What a friggin’ nightmare. She’d actually been dumb enough to look forward to it. She’d thought her past wouldn’t follow her. Most of the kids were from different junior highs, and she was hoping the school would be big enough that those who were once her classmates and who moved on without her wouldn’t even realize she was around. She was wrong.

“What’s it like being the daughter of a hooker? I mean, do you watch? You do don’t you, you dirty bird” This was uttered by Chelsea. She had a deceptively sweet face and voice that had fooled Brit into thinking she might actually be nice once upon a time. Chelsea was not nice, and falling into that trap once was all it took for Brit to know it was better to steer clear. “Are you going to be a hooker too, Brit? You’re too ugly to be one, but I suppose dirty old men don’t really care do they? So, fucking nasty…” And then the tears came. It didn’t matter that her mouth was damn near full to the rim with blood or that Brit still had her teeth sunk into the inside of her lower lip. The tears were pricking, and soon, they’d be falling.

She sunk to the floor with her back to the corner where the bank of lockers met the old painted cinder-block walls. The group was in front of her, and she could go nowhere. She couldn’t stop the tears that were welling up, and her throat was tight in her effort to stop from crying. When her butt hit the concrete floor, she tucked her head down to hide her face between her chest and the books she still held clutched in her arms, and she cried. She tried to be quiet, but the sobs took her over, and they ratcheted through her body one after another as the group laughed and kept taunting.

When the singsong chanting returned, she was almost relieved. It was easier to tolerate than the individual attacks for some reason, and she silently prayed the warning bell would ring soon. She’d have to wait for every last one of her hecklers to leave for class before she could escape to the bathroom and fix her face. She knew she’d likely end up with detention again for being late. But what was one more detention? Sometimes the counselor took her out of detention and let her serve her time in her office. She liked Brit for some odd reason, perhaps the only person in the world who did. She would likely spend the hour talking to Brit about her future, where she wanted her life to go; she’d hand her pamphlets and college booklets. She’d bore Brit to tears, but she’d be nice to her. She was at least nice.

When the bell finally rang, sounding the two-minute warning, Brit let out a deep, steadying sigh as she listened to the crowd break up and disperse. But just as Brit started straightening, she was shocked to the point of letting out an inadvertent yelp when her books were torn from her arms and thrown down the hallway. Papers flew from her folders, and her books skidded across the dirty concrete. She tucked her head down to her knees again. Looking up would only make it worse.

When it was finally quiet and safe, she climbed back up to her feet and peered out the small side corridor she was in to the large main hallway. After collecting her papers and books, she crept down the hallway to the bathroom. The bell rang, and she hung her head. It would definitely be another detention for being late to class, but as she reached the bathroom door, she was stopped in her tracks.

“Brit. Brit!” It was the counselor, and as Brit turned to her, she sucked in a quick breath. Beside her was a police officer. He was tall, but he had gentle eyes and a kind but serious expression. Cops were always nice to her. “Brit … it’s your mom.” Brit took a deep breath. She’d been at this place before, and there was nothing for her to do but wait for the words. “She’s in jail … again.” Brit clenched her jaw, and her gaze flitted between them. “I’m so sorry, Brit.”

“What for? You’re not the whore; she is.” There were no tears to cry for her mother. She’d wasted them all on herself and the crowd of hecklers. The mascara that no doubt streaked down her cheeks was all the evidence needed. She shouldn’t even bother wearing the shit anymore; it’s not like it made her any prettier, and more often than not, it ended up on her cheeks.

Just another day in paradise.

Chapter 2

Today

The morning was cold, and Brit was likewise. Humphreys was beside her in the car, and they were ignoring one another as usual. They rarely spoke, and fortunately, they were effective enough at doing their job that no one pushed back too much on their unwillingness to work with one another more than minimally necessary. He was a fat, ugly, old man with a bad attitude and bad breath to match. She didn’t actually dislike the man; in fact, his attitude reminded her very much of her own. Sour, dour, and just plain frustrated the better portion of the time.

When Humphreys pulled to the curb, he left her to wade through a rather deep drift of snow. Stupid fuck. And it didn’t help she was wearing heels. She should just give it up and dress like a man. It could only help her. When she managed to get past the mound of snow with only a small amount of snow in her shoes, she was met with her greatest pet peeve in the flesh. “Miss. This way.” Nobody called Brit “Miss.” What the fuck gave the young, stupid-looking officer standing in front of her the right to call her anything but detective? He should know better. Brit made sure the men, even the other detectives, called her detective. But this fuck just didn’t seem to know who the hell he was talking to.

“Detective.” She sneered at the man as she muttered the word. He froze midstride and only barely managed to look at her. Humphreys glared at them both. He didn’t give a shit what they called her.

“Sorry, Detective.” He led her and Humphreys to the spot behind the Dumpster where the body lay nearly frozen. She let her focus travel up the body from the feet to the head. It was how she approached every dead body she encountered. Frost covered the visible surface of the body, and the red of the torn flesh glistened frozen in place. There was a lot of red. It wouldn’t be pretty when it thawed out, that was for sure.

Brit was exhausted. She’d only gotten three hours of sleep before dispatch had called her to the crime scene. She was getting sick and tired of the bloody-ass dead bodies that looked like they’d been shredded to pieces. It was looking like a serial, and she really didn’t want to commit to a serial, regardless of how glamorous Hollywood made them sound. It was like committing to a long-running TV drama. It took time, care, stress, worry, and in the end, she was likely to be disappointed with how the whole thing wrapped up. She wanted to nail the fucker before it could turn into a Dallas or M*A*S*H marathon. She was going for something to the tune of the short-lived Heroes series. That was more her speed.

This was the fourth body found in this state in the past three months. Shredded. Given the victims’ lifestyles, drugs were a factor, but that knowledge wasn’t proving helpful in solving the damn case. The alley was cordoned off, so she and Humphreys had the run of the space, and as they walked carefully through the scene, they studied every last inch of ground. It had snowed overnight, and any footprints were long gone, aside from those left by the street kid who’d found the body. There was no evidence of how the vic had met his death in the alley or even if he’d died there at all or been dumped thereafter. There was no visible blood spatter to support his dying where his body lay, and aside from a small amount of blood that pooled beneath the body, she was guessing the vast majority of blood was just plain missing—much like the others. The skin was a grayish blue and had the sickening look of death to it.

They didn’t stay in the alley long. The crime-scene techs arrived, and there was little else they could do at the scene. She already had a lead she was running down, but the damn thing was, the lead was a fucking ghost. He’d shown up on video surveillance with two of the previous victims, and he’d been ID’d by someone in the area. Brit was certain he was involved in some way. The man was Driscoll DeMarco, but while she had a name, she didn’t have a location, and she couldn’t get her damn hands on the man. She’d tracked him as far as the building where he supposedly lived, though no one was willing to corroborate that information, but she dead-ended there. She’d been allowed to enter the building; that was as much as she could say for it. She’d been met by an uncooperative man by the name of Gregory Langford that seemed intent on giving her grief more than any positive help. Come to find out, DeMarco was somehow related to the vast majority of the residents—explained their tight lips apparently. DeMarco had no criminal past, little past of any sort that Brit could find, and now she had another dead body and a suspect who was a ghost.

The next uniform that approached didn’t call her “Miss,” but Brit’s hackles were up regardless and left her fighting to maintain her dominance. She knew it likely wasn’t warranted, but she didn’t care. It was the attitude she liked to maintain. When she responded, she sounded stern… She was always stern. It was the very best way for her stay in control, in charge of the situation.

God hadn’t blessed Brit with a masculine voice or a masculine build, and more often than not, she found she had to force her voice to lower and speak louder than what was natural for her. She made her steps strut and stalk to hide the lithe graceful steps that came more naturally to her. She was a woman in a man’s world; it was just her plight.

When she snapped at the officer for no reason whatsoever, the poor man’s mouth practically hit the pavement. He didn’t deserve it, she didn’t care, and she almost laughed at how effective her voice was. Inappropriate of course, but she was in no mood for the bullshit male ego she had to deal with all the time. Brit didn’t let things slide. She didn’t let herself get sidetracked by life. She didn’t give any one of the many male uniforms an excuse to try to push her out of her job as homicide detective.

When her cell phone rang while she was interviewing people in the area, she saw it was the precinct. She ignored it, knowing they’d call Humphreys if they couldn’t reach her. She didn’t care if Humphreys had to field the call. He was likely hiding out somewhere chain-smoking instead of doing his job, and it served him right in her opinion. But when she finally got around to listening to the message, her heart started to flutter, and she was damn glad they’d left her a message rather than calling Humphreys. A lead.

She was tired. She was more than tired. But this was Brit’s life. She didn’t know how to stop moving forward, to stop striving, to stop fighting to be the best at what she did. She caught the bad people, specifically the ones who took it upon themselves to determine the end of another person’s life. And she now had a lead. Exhaustion be damned; she’d sleep when she was dead.

Chapter 3

She waved the valet off when she pulled up behind an Infiniti SUV idling at the curb in front of the impressive old building in the heart of Boston’s Beacon Hill neighborhood. Her Crown Vic was no Infiniti, but she had no intention of letting the man move her car, and if he didn’t like it parked right in front of the building, she really didn’t give a shit. As she made her way through the rotating door to the interior, she was met with warmth. It was cold out and starting to snow again. Her exhaustion was only made worse by the chill in the air, and the moment she was inside, her body breathed a relaxing sigh. Cold made her muscles tense, and when she couldn’t seem to get caught up on sleep, the tension made her feel all the more worn down.

At the very moment she approached the two elevators, one opened, and a man and women exited. They walked hand in hand and eyed her curiously as they passed. The woman, younger than the man and beautiful in a completely authentic sort of way, smiled warmly at her. They were both pale, but then, so was she. Brit always had been, especially in winter when the sun seemed to disappear for weeks on end. They looked oddly perfect together, and their regard for one another was quite intense and gave Brit an unusual moment of jealousy … but only a moment. The man seemed to care little for anything but the woman at his side, and as his glance moved quickly past Brit to peer down at the woman, he smirked gently and winked at her. She smiled in return. It was intimate and damn unfair.

As they approached the desk where the valet was now sitting, he smiled warmly at the woman and nodded to the gentleman. “Mr. and Mrs. Solomon, it’s good to see you. I wasn’t aware you were in town until just shortly ago. Congratulations on the recent marriage. Your car is at the curb.

“Thanks so much, Jonathan. It’s good to see you as well, and thank you for the well wishes.” The woman spoke while the man remained silent at her side, never removing his touch from her, and as they turned to exit the building, the woman looked back at Brit over her shoulder. “Good evening, Detective.” And then they were gone. Brit stepped in the elevator, shaking her head as she walked. Her badge was concealed at her waist under the bottom of her shirt, and while her revolver was at her back hip, she hadn’t shown the couple her back.

As the elevator ascended, her nerves started fluttering about in her stomach, leaving her nauseous and her hands clammy. Brit always felt this way when she was on the verge. It was the verge she sought constantly. The verge that led slowly to the unraveling of the story. Sometimes she knew well and without question why she was on the verge. Other times she had no idea where the instinctual understanding that she was close to something important came from. This was one such time.

The man’s assistant had called her, after all, offering the man’s help. He was “close” to her suspect, or so she’d been told, and while she had no real reason to believe he might actually have useful information to give her, she was still certain she was on the verge, and it left her stomach knotting, churning, burning, and bile rising in her throat as she inhaled through her nose to stifle the nerves. It would pass.

The elevator lurched to a gentle stop and the doors parted. A man stood before her. Her instinct, the very one that told her she was close to something important, told her this was not her destination; this was not … Angus.

“Good evening. You must be Brit Sutton. Please…”

She cut him off quickly. “Detective.”

“Of course. My apologies, Detective. Please follow me. Angus is waiting.” Damn formal type. Just as well. Brit had no real understanding of the upper crust. Had never had much experience with these type of people, but they seemed to have the odd effect of raising her guard just enough that her composure snapped to attention, and what was normally shown as a cold, determined demeanor became all the more confident. A defense mechanism to protect herself from people she didn’t understand but an effective one in her line of work.

Her heels clicked on the dark marble floor as she followed the man. He appeared fairly young with a full head of sandy-blond hair. He was handsome, but he was certainly not in charge in this place. The sconces that lined the walls emitted a warm light, not the least bit bright, but their reflection could be easily seen in the sheen of the well-polished stone floor. When he stopped outside a door at the end of the hallway, he nodded curtly before moving away from her and returning from the direction they’d come.

What the hell? Brit had no idea what type of building this actually was. Were they apartments, businesses? It looked more like very expensive condos, but not a one of the doors had a number or letter on it, so it was indiscernible and left Brit only guessing as to whether she ought to knock or simply enter. Well if she could leave her unwelcome Crown Vic at the curb, she could sure as hell turn the doorknob with her unwelcome hand. She didn’t give a fuck what reception lay beyond the door, so long as she passed beyond the verge.

When the door opened as she was just reaching for the knob with only a fraction of an inch to go, she nearly stumbled forward. The man suddenly standing in front of her watched her carefully. His focus shifted to her hand, which still hung poised for the knob that was no longer within reach, and his gaze moved back up to her eyes, refusing to look away and without so much as a hint of intimidation. But then, why should he be? She was standing like a moron in front of him, her cool, controlled demeanor anything but at the moment. When his lips pulled up in a rather seductive smirk, she faltered even further as she sucked in a quick and loud breath. Well this wasn’t at all how she’d intended to start the meeting. Or was he starting the meeting?

“And here I thought you’d be some stuffy old bull dyke of a pseudo man. Can’t say I expected you to be so stunning. I’m Angus Scott. Please come in.” He backed away from the door, inviting her in as she stared into his face. She was trying to glare, but the feel of her facial muscles said it was more a look of shock on her face.

He was stunning. His eyes were the most crystal-blue color she’d ever seen. His hair was dark brown, nearly black, and his skin as pale as the beautiful couple in the lobby. Talk about a cool and calm demeanor. Frankly, he was kicking her demeanor’s ass with his composure.

Brit cleared her throat, tightened her jaw, straightened her back, and took the first step forward as he watched. “I’m Detective Brit Sutton, and I can’t see how my appearance has anything at all to do with why I’m here.” He chuckled, said nothing, but extended his arm in invitation to enter. She brushed past him, trying her hardest to rein in her nerves. It would pass. The nerves always passed. But as she stepped past him and waited for him to lead her farther, she felt his hand at the small of her back as he gently pushed her forward. The fluttering in her stomach turned to an all-out crashing wave of warmth that rushed through her body, and she had to admit, perhaps these nerves were here to stay … and perhaps she might actually enjoy them, inappropriate as they were.

After a long, exhausting day that woke her far sooner than her body was ready to rise and left her to stare at yet another mutilated body, she wasn’t at all sure she didn’t want to hang onto the pleasant pulse working its way through her body. It was about as familiar to Brit as arousal of any sort was.

His home was amazing. The marble floors continued into his residence, and as she passed within, she couldn’t help but take in the high ceilings above her—at least two stories. The interior was open, and a kitchen sat along one wall with a large island and bar, the living room was situated in the center of the room, and then a large desk sat in front of tall French doors that led to a balcony beyond. While the building had been renovated to a cold, contemporary state, his furnishings were nothing like it. It was a beautiful blend of contemporary surroundings with furniture that nearly looked antique—simple straight lines, but still very old and comfortable.

As he ushered her to the nearby sofa, never removing his hand from her back, she turned toward him to step out of his reach. His hand brushed over the revolver that sat on the back of her hip as it went, and she stepped farther from his reach. His brow arched as he regarded her curiously, and he watched her with his incredible blue eyes.

Her heart was racing, and she was panicking to find a way to stay in control of this meeting with a man who most definitely was very used to being in control of his world. “Please have a seat, Brit.”

“Detective.” She was trying for strength and confidence, but it was more a struggle than it ought to be. His only response was a subtle smile, and a quiet hum emitted from his lips as though he was amused by her.

She sat as if on command, regretting that she’d not stayed on her feet for longer or refused the gesture, but the moment her butt hit the soft leather of the sofa, her tired muscles thanked her brain for not being too stubborn. He sat kitty-corner from her on a chair. When Brit pulled her small digital recorder from her pocket, he stilled her with a cool hand on her own. She should have pulled away, but instead, she watched him. “That won’t be necessary.”

“I’m sorry. I thought you had pertinent information on a case I’m working on. It is why I took this meeting after all.” He smiled at her words but gave her no other reaction.

It was only after many long, uncomfortable moments of silence that he finally responded. “You’re here because I offered my services.” She started to scoff before he cut her off. “I’ve been told you’re looking for Driscoll DeMarco to question him about possible information regarding an unsolved murder in Four Corners…”

It was her turn to cut him off and proverbially pound her chest like Tarzan. “Try four murders. Two in Four Corners, one in Codman Square, and one just this morning in Mattapan.” And as he regarded her impassively, processing her sudden surge of confidence, she continued, “And I don’t want to question him about possible information; I want to question him about possible involvement. Frankly, I don’t need your permission to do either. I’m here as a courtesy. Your assistant contacted us, might I remind you. I’m simply following up.”

“Ah, yes. I see. So, tell me, do you actually know where Mr. DeMarco is?” His brow arched as he held her gaze firmly with his own. She didn’t have a fucking clue where the man was, and he damn well knew it. And yes, that was why she was truly there. “That’s what I thought.” And then, leaning toward her with a harsh glint in his eyes, he spoke again, losing every last shred of his calm seductive demeanor. “I’m well aware you can’t find DeMarco. If you could, you wouldn’t be here. So, if you want my help, I suggest you drop the attitude, sweetness. You’ve told me nothing I don’t already know, so it would seem you need my help far more than I have any interest or need for you. You’d do well to remember that.”

“I don’t need…”

“The fuck you don’t.” He had righted his posture and was regarding her coolly, harshly. “Would you prefer to scamper around the seedier parts of Boston for the next two months as you have for the last?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time. Do you know where he is?” She was trying desperately to regain control of this conversation.

Brit was always in control. She ran the interview, but even as she told herself that, trying to convince herself, her confidence wavered. How had this man managed with but a few sentences and a cool blue gaze to take the reins so easily? She was skilled at directing the show, always had been. It was half the reason she’d risen through the ranks where other women had failed. She could hold her own. It was contrived of course. She was always trembling like a leaf on the inside, but she was damn good at maintaining control on the outside. Brit didn’t relinquish control of a conversation, no matter how big or small, important or nonessential, to a man. It was the only way to stay in front of the pack, and that was the only place for a woman in her position to be.

“I don’t. But I know his family well, and I thought, perhaps, I could help get him in touch with you. His family will be no help to you; of this, I can assure you. They guard their privacy jealously, but I don’t relish the idea of having bad blood between the family and the police.”

“You make them sound like the mafia. I have no information that DeMarco is involved in organized crime. Do I need to be concerned of this?” Would she actually believe the answer he gave her? Why had she even asked for that matter? This man wasn’t her ally. She had no reason to trust his actions in any way. But … he’d nailed the nail on the head—she didn’t have a fucking clue where DeMarco was, and absent a big neon sign pointing at his head, she needed the help. Her verge was disappearing under her feet with every passing minute, but she wasn’t willing to accept that it might be out of her grasp.

“Then I misspoke. They have no interest in organized crime as a family. They are, however, very protective of their kind … their own that is. I’ll do what I can … but it comes with a price.”

She snorted. “The police don’t bargain for information.” That was a lie, and she damn well knew it.

“Well this price has far more to do with you than the police.” His tone had returned to seductive, and as it did the waves of warmth returned to her body, and her heartbeat sped. She watched him steadily, but she was panicking inside. He smirked. “Tell me, how long has it been since you’ve been fucked.” If she’d had food in her mouth, she’d have choked. If she’d been speaking, her tongue would have fallen onto the floor between them. She stared, openmouthed horror no doubt etched on her expression as the muscles within her groin contracted and quivered involuntarily at his words.

Two long and lonely years… “That’s absolutely none of your business and certainly doesn’t relate to this…” She was going for strength and composure before he cut her off.

“It’s my business if I make it my business. You want information; so do I. Answer the question and stop trying to handle me. You’re trying to work me over, and it won’t work. I assure you, you’re far better off giving in and letting me show you my appreciation.”

She had no idea what he could possibly mean, but the warmth was still radiating through her body, and she was still melting into the feeling of it. “Why do you want to know?” She wanted to smack herself for even entertaining the question. She should punch him, not humor him.

“You seem … deprived of something. Perhaps a good fuck, attention, who the hell knows … sleep? I want to know, and I don’t like not getting my way.”

“You can eat shit.” She glared at his cool eyes as her loins continued to quiver and quake.

“Well yes I could, but why on earth would I?” He was mocking her, and he was good at it. More than that, he seemed to enjoy her discomfort, her irritation. He was toying with her, and that was her job. “I’m only guessing of course, but I’d say, given your rather harsh attitude, it’s been entirely too long.” His seductive lips curled up. “Would you like to fuck me?” His tone was relaxed and controlled.

“No.” Yes. She’d been imagining it, quite frankly, since walking through his door. It’s why her body was warm and wet just at the sound of his voice. He was being inappropriate, and it was turning her on. Most people didn’t have the nerve to speak to her in such a way. Of course, it was only because they couldn’t see just how terrified and insecure she was on the inside.

His lips curled up farther, and her heart pounded harder. She didn’t have any idea why this man was toying with her, and more than that, she had no idea why it was so damn effective. The warmth turned to liquid fire coursing through her veins, and she fought to maintain her composure. Wetness flooded her core. The kind of wetness only brought about by her most secret, intimate thoughts that truly had nothing to do with the reality of her life.

As his jaw tensed and nostrils flared, his head tilted up slightly. “Well when you’re ready to get back on the horse.” Brilliantly executed smirk. “You make sure to let me know. I’ll make it worth your time.” His eyes smoldered in a cool blue haze as they held hers for a moment longer. Brit wasn’t breathing. She knew she should before her face turned blue, but she knew if she did, she wouldn’t be able to hide the impact his overt and completely inappropriate words had on her.

When he abruptly stood, he turned from her, sauntered to the door, and stood patiently waiting for her to get the hint. She did, fumbling to get her small digital recorder back in her pocket as her fingers turned to useless attachments. When she reached him, intent on ignoring him, he grabbed her elbow as she started to move past him. His mouth moved to her ear as she stared straight ahead. His nose touched her earlobe, sending another shudder of warmth and wetness shooting through her body. And after a quick inhale of breath and purring moan in her ear, he spoke. “Very nice. You’ll let me know when you’re ready for my help.”

Her imbalance, her absolute lack of control over the situation seemed to hit its limit, and turning toward him, she found her stride, her voice, her strength once more. And on a quiet, well-controlled voice, she spoke, seething at him. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but you’ve wasted my time, and I have better things to do than spend them with bored over coddled society types intent on playing games. However long it’s been since I’ve gotten laid is none of your damn business, but I will tell you this. If you ever lay a hand on me again or interfere in my investigation, I’ll slap you with an obstruction charge.” And then smiling at him sweetly. “It’s been a lovely waste of my time meeting you, Mr. Scott. You make sure not to waste the taxpayers dollars again, won’t you?”

As she stepped into the hallway, she instantly inhaled and exhaled a deep breath, hoping he’d not caught the pronounced rise and fall of her diaphragm from his place behind her. She focused on the click of her heels as she moved toward the elevators, and she fought to control her breathing. She’d not heard the door close and knew without looking he was still watching her. When she pressed the Call button for the elevator, she risked a look back up the hallway to his door. He stood with his arms folded across his chest, leaning casually against the door frame. He was smiling his damn unnerving seductive smile at her, and she turned back to stare at the elevator, determined to ignore him. But her body couldn’t ignore it. Her cheeks were burning, her heart was pounding, her hands were clammy and shaking, and she was desperate to flee.

She’d lost control of this one, but her instincts were nearly always on the money. This man knew something, but he was more intent on toying with her than anything else, and he’d quite effectively stolen her verge. But Brit had no intention of letting him keep the reins. She didn’t know how to back down from anything, including the good Angus Scott.

* * * *

He wasn’t lying when he’d told her he wasn’t expecting her to be so stunning. She was incredible. She kept her warm, auburn hair in a shoulder length bob. Her eyes were a light golden brown, and though she looked exhausted, they twinkled with life and strength. Her body looked fit and trim, and her slacks and sweater were professional but quite feminine in comparison to her bold attitude.

Angus was left wanting to help her, knowing he wouldn’t and frankly couldn’t. She was looking for someone he couldn’t allow her to find. Driscoll was a pathetic excuse for a vampire, and it was his sloppiness alone that had attracted her attention, but he had no choice except to protect the man. He would kill Driscoll, and her for that matter, before he allowed their kind to be discovered. Driscoll had jeopardized their anonymity, and it was Angus’ responsibility to see that their race was protected.

“Why so serious, boss? What’s with the police officer?” It was Clint, his assistant. It was Clint’s job to do as Angus told him … and to question incessantly on occasion too. He was the eldest of the vampires Angus had sired long ago before it was outlawed, and it made him Angus’ right-hand man.

“Detective.”

“Regardless, she’s a little too cute to be a cop, isn’t she?” He was smirking, and Angus’ chest tightened at Clint’s obvious interest in her.

“She’s not as sweet as she looks.” He was staring at the door as he lounged on the couch. Hadn’t been able to look away from it since she’d left. He’d pushed her buttons but just barely. She was definitely going to be a threat to them. She didn’t know how to take no for an answer, and he was guessing it wouldn’t be the last he’d see of her. He was also quite certain he didn’t want it to be the last he saw of her. “Clint, I want you to find out everything you can about her. I want to know where she lives, where she comes from, what her hobbies are. If she has something going on, I want to know about it before it happens. Got it?”

“Yeah, boss. Is this about Driscoll?” Angus nodded but said nothing. “So, why didn’t you wipe her mind?” He was referring, of course, to a vampire’s ability to hide memories of themselves inside a person’s mind to protect their privacy and anonymity. It didn’t apply here.

“There would be no point. I gave her no information, and you know I can only wipe myself from her mind. As much as I’d love to wipe Driscoll from her mind or the face of the planet for that matter,” he muttered in anger, “it’s not within my power.” Frankly, he had no interest in wiping himself from her mind.

With Clint finally gone, he returned to staring at the door. She’d gotten to him. He thought he could handle one obnoxious female cop. He never imagined it would turn into such a struggle to stay on top. Every time she lashed out to show her backbone, he was left wanting to throw her on the floor and fuck her brains out. He also wasn’t lying when he’d said she looked like she needed it. She most definitely needed him. The scent of her arousal said it clear enough, but arousal or not, she wouldn’t fall to his advances so easily as most would. And he might just want her a little more for it.

But it changed nothing. He had to distract her. He had to ensure she didn’t get close to the truth, and so long as he had to interfere with her, he intended to enjoy it.

Chapter 4

“It’s good to see you again, Brit. You look lovely.” She looked more than lovely. She was stunning. Her satin gown was a deep, shimmering mocha brown, and her short hair showed the contour of her graceful neck beautifully. His groin was tight just eyeing her from across the room. On their first meeting, she’d worn gray-tweed slacks, a black, snug cowl-neck sweater, and pointy-toe black heels. He’d wanted her then, but now… The event was black tie, and he’d been looking forward to seeing her in evening attire; what he’d not expected was for her to look so damn incredible.

The dress fit perfectly and hugged her lithe and slim curves like a glove. Her short hair looked exactly as it had a week and a half prior at their first meeting, but her makeup was done in warm evening tones, and her jewelry was understated but elegant. Her body was tight, and she looked fit but so very feminine.

Getting an invitation to the fundraiser that was cohosted by the city and Harvard University was no problem. Angus was the head of the vampire council for the eastern region of the United States, and his fellow councilman, Truman, was on the adjunct faculty at Harvard. He and his wife, Ember, moved around the dance floor together, and Angus watched as the man smiled warmly at her. Truman was an unusual creature, even by vampire standards. Refusing his familial obligation to the council, he’d only submitted when his wife’s life hung in the balance. He was obsessed with his wife. Actually, that was an understatement, but it was easy to see why. She was captivating, and the newest vampire in existence in over one hundred years. He’d fallen in love with her as a human, and it was only after she’d been nearly killed by another vampire intent on destroying Truman that he’d been given the chance of eternity with her. Odd behavior indeed for a vampire, but Angus respected the man more than any other, and they were as close to friends as any person in his life had been. Angus was nothing at all like the man, but he appreciated him nonetheless.

Brit was gaping at him as he greeted her; no doubt she was shocked to see him there, though it was certainly no coincidence.

“I said it’s good to see you again, and you were just getting ready to try your hand at being polite.” He smirked. She was certainly not going to be polite. He knew it without any question; it simply wasn’t her thing.

“You as well.” She barely managed to get the words out, and her jaw was tight as she spoke. He could see clearly she was trying for control just as she had in his residence, but she was failing. Her voice was just a bit too quiet, her tone marginally too raspy and weak, and the incredible, subtle scent her body emitted at nothing more than the sound of his voice left his teeth aching in his jaw to protract and bite her. “I’m sorry, what are you doing here?” She was suspicious.

“Supporting urban development of course. Isn’t that why you’re here?” She blushed furiously, but he refused to look away from her. He didn’t give a shit about urban development.

“If you’ll excuse me.” She seemed intent on ignoring him, but Angus had no intention of allowing that to happen. When he caught her arm as she tried to turn from him, she turned slowly back, taking a steadying breath as she moved. “I really do have to…” But as she looked up to his eyes, her voice lurched again.

“Dance with me.” Her chest was heaving at his words, and though she hid well, her quick heart rate said she was nervous. He tightened his hand on her elbow, savoring the way her body responded. The scent of her arousal hit his senses, and he wanted to take her right there on the floor of the museum.

Her dress showed him what her business-professional clothes on their first meeting didn’t. The cut was low and gave him the most incredible view of her cleavage. Her breasts were proportioned to her graceful lines if not slightly full for her small frame. The roundness of them had his cock straining against his pants. He made no move to look away from her tits, and he listened to her heart pound in response to his invasive stare.

When he finally managed to meet her eyes again, her lips were slightly parted, her brow was wrinkled in what looked like confusion, and she was panting. But it took her only a moment to regain her composure. Jerking her elbow from his grasp, she glared.

“So I guess that means no dance?” He chuckled as he said the words, and she pushed past him. But he didn’t lose sight of her.

*

She wandered, she hid, she tried to stay away from him. What the hell was he doing here? She sure as hell didn’t want to be there. She couldn’t seem to keep her bearings when he was around. She wanted to sink into his body when he touched her. His hand was cool and strong against her skin, and she felt anything but strong with him. Brit couldn’t stand to be out of control, and yet his touch made her want to give into his control. It made no sense, but her body wanted, craved to submit to his will.

She took her time looking at the art exhibits. She cared little for it, but it gave her an excuse to avoid the crowds of people in the main ballroom. In truth, it was just him. She was avoiding him. She wasn’t alone by any means in the small side gallery, but it was at least quieter without the throngs of dancing couples.

Brit was already in a bad mood thanks to an unwelcome call from her mother begging for money she claimed was for groceries. Fat chance. More than likely, money for drugs. Must be a slow month selling her body for money. How a fifty-year-old woman still hadn’t figured out turning tricks for a living wasn’t the best way to spend your life was beyond Brit’s comprehension. But then she also couldn’t understand how her father hadn’t figured out until after he’d been arrested for dealing drugs that, perhaps, he’d taken the wrong path in life too. Thirty years in state penitentiary for that one, and he still blamed the cops as though they’d forced him to sell crack to teenagers on the street. Was Brit maybe a bit bitter? Maybe, just maybe.

Every time she picked up the phone and heard her mother’s drugged and lazy voice, she cringed. It’s not that she didn’t feel bad for them. How could she not? But her life had suffered for it, and she resented them. Being the poor girl who fought to make it to school most days growing up was hard. Being the one who was held back in junior high because of it was humiliating. And when the kids started taunting and bullying her after finding out her mother hooked for a living, she was ready to throw in the towel. But throwing in the towel was what her parents did, not Brit. So she fought. But fighting aside, they still had the ability to ruin her day.

So, her afternoon was spent running money to her mother, also known as enabling, in Franklin Park rather than getting ready for the damn fundraiser, which naturally meant she looked atrocious. She really didn’t give a shit … until he showed up.

Brit paused at one particular piece of art that depicted a warm spring landscape with muted flowers. She stared and let her mind float away to the warmth. She could nearly feel the heat of the sun on her skin, smell the flowers as they gently blew in the wind. She wanted to be there. Not Boston on a cold winter night. She was as tired as ever, no closer to finding her verge on the DeMarco case, and the very reminder of just how far off the mark she was on this damn case was sauntering about taunting her in the next room. As she felt a soft touch caress the back of her arm, she nearly melted into it, craving the touch. The taunt was definitely not in the next room. Snapping to attention in just the nick of time, she pulled her body forward.

“I should arrest you,” she muttered as she turned to him.

“For what, dear Brit? Hitting on you? Can’t possibly be a crime yet.” His words were as warm and seductive as they had been in her previous encounters with him, and as she listened, she could see herself submitting to him in her mind and hear herself moaning in ecstasy because of it. He was right; she did need it. Two years was entirely too long.

“What is it you do for a living, Mr. Scott, that you have so much time on your hands to fuck with the likes of me just for fun?”

He smiled at her, but it was an amused smile. “I’m an investor.”

“I see. So you have money and you throw it around for fun. Is that about it? No brains, really, but at least you’ve got your money to waste. I can see why you’re so damn bored.” She could tell by the sudden tightness in his jaw that she’d hit a nerve of some sort, and it was exceptionally satisfying. But as quickly as she’d turned the tables, he turned them right back.

“On the contrary, I’m quite intelligent, and I invest likewise. It’s why I have money to throw around. But thank you so much for reducing my life to something so very abhorrent as being wealthy. I came from money, Brit, and I walked away from every last penny of it. Now, how about you stick to hating me for the right reasons.”

“I don’t hate you. I’m just not interested in you. It’s never going to happen, so you should really just give it up.” She turned her back on him and returned to staring at the picture.

He hummed seductively before speaking. “Never suggests forever.” His breath touched her earlobe as he leaned to her body without touching her from behind. The breath that touched her skin left radiating electricity pulsing through her body. She held her arms tensely folded across her chest, but she could feel her nipples hardening under the tight hold she had on herself. When his breath moved to the nape of her neck, he continued his statement. “And forever is a long time.” He nipped a quick kiss at the base of her neck before she could stop him, and she turned her head to her opposite shoulder to glare. When he moved to meet her ear that she’d conveniently turned to him, he finished his riddling comment. “Far too long to suggest never.”

His nose brushed her cheek as she froze in place. She swallowed hard over the lump in her throat, and when she did, his mouth moved closer to her ear, and he caressed along the outside rim with his lips. The touch was so feather light, and coupled with his breath against her skin, she shivered and trembled where she stood. She needed to move away from him, but she didn’t. Instead, she froze in place waiting for his next touch, wanting his next touch, craving it so much she could hear herself begging for it in her mind.

When she felt his hand grip the side of her waist and his body close in behind her, her mouth dropped open. When she felt his large, turgid arousal pressed against her lower back, she gasped. Wetness flooded her center, and he inhaled deeply from behind her. She couldn’t allow this to happen, regardless of how much she may want it to. And stepping forward and rounding toward him, Brit threw her elbow into his jaw with the crack of her bone sounding loudly against his. His body remained oddly still given the force she’d thrown into the move, and as she took another defensive step back from him, she watched, ready to defend herself. But he didn’t fight back. Instead, he rubbed his jaw with the same seductive smirk pulling his lips while he clicked his tongue and slowly shook his head from side to side.

“Impressive.” He dropped his hand from his jaw. “We’re two peas in a pod, you and I. I wonder which of us will give in first. I want to fuck you, Brit, and I damn well know you want to fuck me too.”

When he turned and started moving casually away from her, she stopped him. “You’re fucking with me to interfere with my case. I want to know why?” She waited, fighting hard to maintain a controlled expression.

“Wouldn’t you prefer to just fuck and stop worrying about the why? I sure as hell would.” And then he winked before he sauntered away from her. He was in no hurry, and she watched as he retreated from the room never once looking back at her. But she followed—the whole while she was devising her speech. The speech that would put him in his place. One moment the words were there; they were strong, powerful, but then the next minute, they slipped away, and she grasped at some way to verbally kick his ass.

She hung back and trailed him, watching as he spoke to the couple from the lobby of his building. The woman smirked and gave him a good-natured, exasperated look as he spoke. They appeared to be good friends and for some reason it struck her as odd. He seemed … normal. The man who was so effective at toying with her and pushing her every last button in a way no other could was … normal. Angus quickly pecked the woman on the cheek, clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder, and then moved away.

When Brit caught up to him again, she was approaching from behind. She could have sworn he hadn’t seen her, but the moment she was in arms length of his body, he rounded on her. “Why are you following me?” He startled her as he spoke loudly, feigning exasperation with her. But he was chuckling the moment he finished speaking.

Brit was convinced he knew more than he had thus far been willing to share, and she was fuming that he was dangling it like a carrot in front of her nose. She couldn’t force him to tell her anything he wasn’t willing to share, but she wasn’t going to let up so easy either. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to let him run her off and hide from his inappropriate behavior toward her. She had no hope of finding out anything from this man if she wasn’t willing to tolerate his antics.

“I’ll take that dance now.” Her voice was strong as she spoke the words, but she felt anything but on the inside. She was trying to keep the expression from her face. He smirked before reaching for her hand and pulling her after him. She allowed it, still trying to decide what she was going to say—just how she was going to regain control of this man.

When they were amidst the slow-moving group of well-dressed Bostonians, he gripped her waist with his large masculine hand. He pushed her body around the floor as the slow orchestral piece moved the couples along. His gaze held hers, and she got lost in it. The blue of his eyes was so incredibly bright and clear, and against his pale skin and dark hair, the contrast left him looking unearthly. She licked her lips before speaking and he glanced to her tongue as it passed over her lips. “I’m going to find Driscoll with or without your help. I can’t understand why you would try to stand in my way, but I assure you, you won’t stop me.” She thanked God her voice sounded strong and clear.

“Well I intend to try.” She was shocked at his words for a moment, but then … should she be? He’d been trying to interfere and distract her from the moment she’d met him. Why should his overt admission that he intended to try to stop her from finding her suspect surprise her?

“Why?”

“I have my reasons. I’m sorry.” And he looked it. His smirk was gone, and his expression was serious and solemn. “I wish we could be on the same team. I really do. But we’re not.”

“Do you know where he is?” There was no doubt in her mind he wouldn’t tell her, but if he admitted he did know where the man was and then refused to tell her, she could pull him in for questioning with little more justification than that.

But he wasn’t taking the bait. “Hmmm. Where are you hiding the cuffs, Brit?”

She cut him off quickly. “It’s Detective.”

“Yes, Brit, I know you’re a detective. So, what’s the answer that will keep those cuffs off me? Let’s see… No. I have no idea where he is.” He nodded rather than shook his head as he spoke, and his smirk had returned. When he suddenly pulled Brit’s body snug to his, she gripped his biceps through his tux jacket to keep her balance and to keep herself from melting into his body. His muscles rippled beneath the fabric.

His rather generously proportioned cock was still hard and straining against the front of his pants, and given the smoldering look in his eyes, he was intent on making sure she felt it. There was no missing it of course, and as her body betrayed her once again and flushed with need and desire for the man who had effectively made himself her enemy, she cursed herself. But she didn’t pull away. His jaw clenched, his nostrils flared, and he inhaled deeply as he held their bodies snug to one another. It escaped her attention completely for some time that they had stopped moving and were standing still in the crowd of bodies that continued their slow waltz around the dance floor.

His gaze remained on her, and they simply stared at one another. His smirk was once again gone. He was quite effective at being intimidating when he wanted to be. In fact, he had the composure Brit wished she had. But his focus eventually drifted down to her breasts, which were held snug between them, and she could feel his erection flex and twitch as he blatantly studied her body. When his gaze moved back up, they stalled at her lips, and he spoke. His composure was lost for a moment as his voice came out in a rasp that set her skin on fire. “God, I want to taste your lips.” And then he licked his lips as if trying to imagine it.

She stared for a moment longer before finding her strength once more and turning from him as she walked away. Her body missed the touch instantly. His touch had been cool, and yet, her body was warm against his, and she felt cold the moment she moved away from him. When she glanced back once, he was watching her. Unfortunately, she was not watching where she was going, and the moment she turned back around, she careened into a pompous-looking old man holding two glasses of champagne in his hands. The wine spilled down both their fronts, soaking the satin fabric that covered her breast. “I’m sorry.” She was trying to sound apologetic, but she was embarrassed and that tended to make her sound angry in defense.

He showed his pomposity by loudly sharing his disdain with anyone within earshot to hear. “Watch where you’re going, girl! If you’d been paying attention, maybe…”

Brit opened her mouth to snap back at the man, but before the words came out, he was there. “She said she was sorry. Now how about you accept her nice apology and move along?” He was standing just behind her body to the left of her shoulder, and his hand was on the small of her back. Enemy or no, she felt suddenly secure and strong again. She also wanted to pummel him for his chivalry. It had no place in Brit’s life … even if it left a flush on her skin.

When he linked her elbow with his and started walking, she didn’t pull away. Her brain was screaming at her to escape his touch, but she held her stride, which happened to be keeping pace with his. They exited to one of the many old stone walkways of the historic building, and he pushed her to the wall, closing the space between their bodies in an instant. His arousal was hard and grinding against her pelvis as she gaped up to his beautiful face. Her warmth was burning through her body, and though she had no business allowing his touch, she wanted more; she wanted all of him.

His eyes looked as desperate as she felt, and he kept her pinned to the wall with one strong hand to her hip as his other forearm pinned her chest in place. His hand dipped down and his fingers roughly pushed past the wet fabric of her dress that covered and clung sticky to her breast with the spilled champagne. His cool fingers passed over her already hard and erect nipple, pulling up to free her breast from her dress.

When he dropped his forearm from her chest, he moved his hand down to grip her arm, pinning it to the wall as his mouth sank to her breast. He pulled her nipple harshly into his mouth as she cried out, clapping her free hand over her mouth. Her eyes were darting around in a near panic, but they were alone in the dim corridor, and though she could easily put a knee in his groin from her position, she was failing to do anything but focus on the sensations shooting through her body. He was sucking, licking, laving the champagne from her skin. His mouth worked on her skin as wetness seeped from between her legs. She felt weak as though her knees might give out as any moment, but she held still, gasping for breath and wondering if perhaps she may end up coming with nothing more than his tongue on her breast.

When a drunk young woman suddenly staggered into the corridor, she caught sight of them and started giggling. Angus stopped tormenting her body and moved to her side to shield her body from the woman who slunk away quickly. Brit was left staring at his neck, unable to look at his eyes while he stared down at her. His fingers moved to gently pull the fabric of her dress up and over her breast again, and the moment his fingers pulled away, the disappointment hit, and so did the shock. What the hell was she doing?

She stepped cautiously back from his body, finally meeting his gaze that watched her with their intense crystalline power. She exhaled a deep shaky breath as her eyes flitted from his. She could feel her brow flinching and wrinkling as the confusion of what she’d allowed to happen coursed through her mind, and with a final shake of her head, she moved past him. He watched, saying nothing, doing nothing, just watching.

Chapter 5

“So, you were getting ready to tell us where it was you disappeared to tonight?” Ember was speaking. She was a question asker, and nothing stopped her when she was on a mission for information. It was usually endearing … usually.

“I wasn’t actually.” Angus spoke from the back seat of Truman and Ember’s SUV as they wound through the traffic toward the council’s building.

“And why the hell do you smell like champagne?” She lifted her nose to the air and inhaled deeply. “I thought we couldn’t eat or drink. If I’d known I could taste wine again…” Truman glanced to her with a smile while reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze.

“Sorry, dear. No tastes. And if Angus was stupid enough to take a sip, he’ll be paying for it later. Imagine stomach flu vampire-style.”

“Relax. It wasn’t even a sip. A taste yes…” His lips curled up as he looked out the window. Ember was eyeing him curiously in the visor mirror.

“Does this have something to do with the detective? She’s very pretty Angus, and if I didn’t know you better, I’d almost say you had a bit of a crush on her.” He smirked but said nothing. But Ember didn’t need a reason to ask a question. She asked regardless. “What’s she like, the detective? She seems interesting.”

“She’s human, Em. Not quite girlfriend material if you know what I mean.”

“I was human until a few months ago. What’s your point?”

“I’m not Truman. I’m not a sappy romantic prepared to torment myself with a mortal.” Truman chuckled as he continued to hold Ember’s hand.

“Then who is girlfriend material? I mean if not her, who?”

Letting out an exasperated sigh but enjoying the conversation regardless, he responded, “Most of our kind, barring a few exceptions, and yes, I’m referring to you two, avoid the attachment of long-term relationships. What’s the point? If you fall in love with a mortal, they’ll eventually die. If you fall in love with an immortal, what are the chances you won’t get bored with them after a century or two?”

“You think we’ll get bored with one another?” She was incessant, but the look in her eyes as she studied Angus made it clear she needed an answer, and Angus had enough respect for her to give her one. Truman’s hand remained on hers, and he glanced at her. Ember was new, more than new to being a vampire, and she had no concept of immortality yet. But as they pulled to a stop at a stoplight, and Truman reached up and stroked her cheek with his hand as she leaned into the comfort of his touch, Angus was stabbed with guilt. Even if Ember was new to this, Truman wasn’t. He understood exactly what he was doing when he’d fallen in love with Ember; he knew what he was in for when he’d asked her to marry him. And Angus trusted Ember’s love for Truman completely as well. There was no doubt in Angus’ mind that Truman and Ember would be the forever couple, and frankly, he was jealous.

“No, Ember, I don’t think you’ll ever tire of one another. I know you both well enough to believe that wholeheartedly.” And as he shifted his focus out the window again, he thought out loud. “But I’m not sure I could ever be so lucky.”

“There has to come a time when meaningless sex gets old, doesn’t there?” It was Truman now who was grilling him.

“Trust me. I’m there already. But we can’t all be happily hitched to our soul mate for eternity.”

“We earned our happily ever after as you well know.” Truman’s gaze flitted to his in the rearview mirror.

“Yes you did, old friend.” There was no denying that fact.

“Better find your mate now, Angus. Before long, you’ll be too old to get it up anymore. You are old as hell after all. What is it, 500 or so odd years at this point?” Ember was chiding him. And she had them all laughing. She often did. Ember was like the kid sister he’d never had and never realized he wanted. She was charming, intelligent, and insanely in love with Truman. Her and Truman’s history together before Ember’s transition had been long and complicated, and it had nearly been destroyed, but here they were. The exception to the rule. They made forever seem possible, desirable even.

“I have a feeling I don’t really have to worry about that too much.” He was chuckling as they pulled to the curb outside the council’s building. But they didn’t enter with him. They were headed back to Gloucester where their home was, and he was retiring alone.

As he entered his residence, he felt alone. He wanted Brit. She was feisty, she was strong, and she was determined. But, and this was the part that made him putty in her hands, she was vulnerable. He could smell her fear, hear her heart race, and see the struggle it was for her to stay in control of her world. She left him wanting to defend her, help her, lead her. He liked her strength, but he relished her very human weakness as well.

* * * *

Brit didn’t even make it past her living room before stripping out of her dress. The spot where the champagne had spilled was sticking to her skin, and the wetness was now cold and chilling her. She walked naked to the kitchen and uncorked a bottle of wine. As she poured a small glass, she rubbed and massaged the cold skin of her breast. His mouth had touched every last inch of her breast that she now touched. She’d fallen apart the second he’d touched her, and she couldn’t get the image of him out of her mind. This wasn’t Brit. The elbow to the jaw was Brit, not the acceptance of a stranger’s mouth on her body.

She walked to her bedroom with her wine in hand and retreated to the bath. She soaked the stickiness away as she sipped her wine until she was pleasantly buzzed and her body was tingling. When she was finished bathing, she cranked the heat up a few notches before collapsing naked on her bed. Her cell phone rang, and she groaned. If it was dispatch, she was going to scream. She wasn’t on call for the night, but if there were any new developments or homicides that matched her suspects MO, she’d get the call.

“This is Detective Sutton.”

“Hi.” It was him.

“How’d you get this number?”

“It wasn’t that hard.”

“That’s not an answer, and you have no business calling me…”

“You still haven’t told me how long it’s been since you’ve been fucked.”

“And I have no intention…”

“Are you naked?”

“That’s none of your damn business.” She spoke the words as she looked down at her naked body sprawled out on her bed. The wine she was drinking was seeping slowly through her veins and leaving a warmth in her stomach.

“You know, you could touch yourself while I talk to you, and I’d never even know.”

“Why are you…?”

“You know why, Brit. I want to interfere with you. Toy with you. Toying can be enjoyable you know. Just like my mouth on your breast. You liked that didn’t you?” His voice was seductive, and she didn’t need to see his face for her body to respond. He was good at this.

“Stop.” But she didn’t really want him to.

“You can hang up anytime you want. But I’m not going to stop talking until you disconnect. So, how about you sit back and enjoy it. I promise I won’t tell anyone. Are you touching yourself yet? How about you pinch that nice little nipple I had so much fun sucking on?” Brit’s hand moved mindlessly to her breast, but she didn’t pinch. She rubbed, as if rubbing was somehow refusing his demand. When she realized what she was doing, she pulled her hand away … but not for long. Her nipple was already hard, and she fought to keep her breathing quiet as she eventually gave in and pinched down on the tight erect bud. “Are you touching it?”

“No.” But her voice wasn’t very convincing. And the fact she hadn’t hung up on him yet was damning to the defiance she was trying to exude.

“Oh, yes you are. You really do have impressive tits. Perfectly round, and your nipple was delicious between my lips. But your tits are the least of what I want from you. Can you imagine how my mouth on your pussy would feel? My tongue exploring the sweet wet folds of your sex? The very idea of tasting you makes my cock hard in the very way it makes your pussy wet. Just like it is now.”

“You know I could be recording you for harassment charges.” She could barely keep the lurching breath from escaping her lips as she spoke. She pinched down again.

He chuckled before responding. “I do like your feisty spirit, Brit. But we both know no DA in their right mind would listen to this and think you were anything but a willing participant. You can’t hide the arousal in your voice. Speaking of arousal, are you wet yet?” She was, but she sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him. “Come on, Brit, tell me how wet you are for me.” His voice was so very controlled and calm, and it left her shuddering in desire to submit to his wants.

Her response was a quiet whimper as the walls of her vagina clenched down on the void that begged for his body within her own. He chuckled in response. “That’s what I thought. Now spread your legs open.”

“Fuck you.”

“You need only ask, sweetness. You can’t imagine how hard I am for you. I could barely handle being around you tonight, and I haven’t been able to stop touching my dick since I got home. Now touch your pussy for me. I know you’re wet, so I won’t even ask. You won’t answer me honestly anyway.” She was wet. Her body was responding to his voice, his words. She would give him no response, but she’d be damned if she was going to stop. She needed this.

“Now listen carefully…” His voice was quiet and calm as he continued, “I don’t want you to say a word. I know you’re fighting not to respond to me, and I know if we keep going, you’ll respond whether you want to or not, and you’ll regret it later. So mute your phone if you must, but don’t hang up. Just listen and let your hands do the rest.” She very nearly got her finger to the press the Disconnect button. Nearly.

When Brit hit the Mute button, she also hit the Speaker button and set the phone on the pillow by her head. Her heart was racing, her skin was prickling, and warmth was settling between her legs. The heat was reminiscent of the way good wine left her limbs weak and feeling as though they were filled with oozing hot liquid.

“Every time I stroke my cock, I imagine it’s your hand, your mouth, your warm pussy clenching down around me. Remember the feel of my mouth on your breast. Now imagine it between your legs? Lapping at you, licking you, nibbling along the sensitive skin. I want to suck your clit between my lips and lash it with my tongue until you’re going insane with pleasure.” She ran her fingers over her wetness, plunging into her body and then back out to rub her wetness over her clit. Her stomach muscles were clenching every time her fingers passed over her tight and aroused nub of nerves, and it was his mouth that she craved. She craved it in just the way he spoke of it.

His breath came as a gasp that cut through the silence before he started talking again. “Fuck, I want you. I want you to see how hard my cock is right now, and I would do anything to get inside your body.”

She was fighting to stifle the moans of pleasure, and even though she knew he couldn’t hear her, she had this irrational fear that he could as though he was in the room with her. But as she plunged her fingers into her body and pulled back out, wet and glistening in her cum, she lost control of her mouth, and her moans filled the room along with his voice.

“I want you to imagine fucking me, Brit. Play it out in your mind. I like it rough, but I swear, I’ll give it to you however you want it. Just let me get my hands on you. Fuck.” He sounded like he was losing control, and she was panting and so close to her own release she could barely take it. But she wanted this to go on forever. Brit was so over-deprived of intimacy that her body was crying out for more even before she’d claimed her release. Her heels were dug into the sheet of her bed, she was writhing, and there wasn’t even a moment of hesitation as her moans became loud and vulgar.

She could hear his deep, guttural groans as he pleasured himself, and when he spoke again, he was just as far beyond control as she was. “I want to pound into her pussy. Over and over again. God I want you to feel every inch of me inside your body. Oh fuck. I can’t wait any longer. You better be coming now, baby, ’cause I can’t take any more.”

She was whimpering and grasping and pulling at the sheets by her hip as her other hand continued to plunge and pull. She was seeping wetness, and when her orgasm finally slammed into her, she rolled to her side with her fingers still buried in her body as she listened to him come. His deep, guttural, and powerful groan was as much a turn-on as his words, and as her release subsided, she listened to his moans slowly taper off.

She lay watching the phone, expecting or waiting for him to say something. She should hang up. With any luck, he’d think she hung up without having given into his little game, but in truth, she didn’t want him to think that at all. She wanted him to know she was there and willing. It was inappropriate, but she did.

“Good night, Brit.” Then there was silence, but he was still there. She thought for a moment she should disconnect, but she waited. “I’m sorry. But I like interfering with you entirely too much to stop.” And then he was gone, and she finally disconnected. Staring at the ceiling above her bed did nothing to help her figure out what the hell had just happened. Her body was relaxed, and her wetness still lingered between her thighs, but her mind was spinning, racing through her thoughts. It didn’t make sense. Was she so deprived of a man that she’d commit the cardinal sin? He might not be a suspect, but he sure wasn’t on her side. Cops didn’t get involved with witnesses, though he could hardly be called that either. Person of interest, perhaps? An appropriate moniker for sure.

When she sank into sleep shortly thereafter, she crashed hard. Her body was so damn tired, and he’d put her through more paces than any man ever had with nothing more than his voice. She dreamed of him. His amazing blue eyes, his dark hair, his strong and powerful body. She had no idea what he looked like without clothes, but he was doubtless stunning.

When Brit woke the next morning, she started coffee before retreating to her bathroom. She stared at herself in the mirror, wondering who the hell she was looking at. Her hair was effortless, thank God for small favors, but her eyes had dark circles under them and were going to need some work to look awake. Brit was thirty-two, and her skin still looked youthful, but her paleness and darkened eyes left her looking ghostly.

When Brit caught the large bruise on her elbow, she laughed an odd and deranged-sounding laugh. She was blushing with nothing more than the memory of his words, his touch, his mouth. She shouldn’t have elbowed him in the jaw. It was excessive force to be sure, but she was laughing and flushing in an odd, embarrassed way regardless.

Brit quickly brushed some lip gloss over her lips, some blush on her cheeks that she hoped would make her look alive, and she filled her coffee mug for the road. It would be another long day of running down leads, getting nowhere fast, and if she was lucky, she’d get through the day without meeting a new dead body.

Chapter 6

He wanted to see her… Desperately. What he did not want was for her to send some pathetic uniform cop who could barely figure out how to tuck his shirt in to bring him in for questioning a few days later. She was going to annoy him. He was well aware of that fact, but he just didn’t give a shit. He still wanted to see her. The phone-sex fiasco left him craving their next meeting far more than he’d expected.

Angus had wondered if perhaps his desire would cool after getting his rocks off with her … even if only by phone. But quite the opposite, he’d been left imagining her eyes. Seeing them again. Hearing her excited and nervous heartbeat. Her smell. Inhaling the scent of her arousal. He’d have welcomed her handcuffs on his wrists if she’d of had the decency to bring them herself. Instead, it was Officer Brandt standing in front of him, requesting oh so nicely that he come to the precinct for questioning. Nothing formal, just a nice request from Boston PD.

No handcuffs were required, thank God, and walking into the District E13 station in Jamaica Plain, he was damn near nervous. Angus wasn’t prone to nerves, and while he knew well enough he was treading, quite literally, into dangerous territory, it wasn’t what had him so on edge. It was her. She was as much a distraction to him as he was trying to be to her, and he had the unnerving feeling he wouldn’t be walking away from this distraction regardless of the risk she posed to him. He felt oddly out of control with her. And it was the most enjoyable sensation he’d experienced in longer than he could recall.

Angus was a calm man. Had been even before his transition over five hundred years in the past. It was why he was so effective at toying with the high-strung detective. But she had him rattled. He may not show it outwardly, but he didn’t like that he craved her so intensely. She was human, and he wasn’t lying when he’d said he wasn’t Truman. Truman was more than prepared to love a mortal before Ember had transitioned. Angus had no interest in falling for a mortal woman. As a vampire, he’d never even fucked a mortal, just wasn’t willing to cross that line. But what started out as a means to interfere in her investigation was turning into a bit of an infatuation. And he didn’t like it … and yet he wanted it regardless.

When she rounded the corner from a hallway carrying a file folder in her hand, she stopped the moment she saw him. They were standing ten feet apart, and she just stared. And that’s what he had been craving. That first look. The first look after having shared something forbidden and hot. His heart was pounding just at the sight of her beautiful golden-brown eyes and slightly parted lips. Her cheeks were flushing scarlet against her pale and pristine skin. And in that moment, he felt just as human as she. His heart was lurching, his groin was aching, and his jaw was ready to let loose his fangs. This is what he’d been wanting so very much since three nights previous when he’d made himself come with images of her dancing through his mind.

She took a steadying breath; he kept his focus trained on her. The world seemed to stand still for a moment as they stared at one another, and in that moment, he knew without a shadow of a doubt, he was going to keep risking himself with her. There was no stopping it. He had to keep her away from their secret, but he certainly wouldn’t be keeping away from her.

“Detective Sutton. Where you want him?” The officer with his sloppy uniform and cheesy smile.

“Uh… How ’bout interview room two? See it’s open and then put him in there. I’ll … uh … be in in a minute.” This last seemed to be spoken to him, and he nodded in response as she turned and walked away.

The room was sparse and sterile with painted cinder-block walls that were the most bland shade of off-white. He sat and waited. The officer left him, and it was only minutes later that she entered alone. Of course, given the two-way mirrored window, “alone” was a fairly subjective term.

“It’s nice to see you again, Brit.” He didn’t wait for her to speak.

“Detective.” She said nothing else as she approached the table and sat down. She still carried the file folder, and as she opened it, she pulled out a large color photo marred in red. It was streaked, and slashes of red cut across the page in angry and ugly lines. It was interrupted only with the deadpan stare of open and unreactive eyes that registered nothing at all.

“Well isn’t he or she quite the mess. Care to tell me why you’re showing me this?” The body on the page had been obliterated, and while Angus himself took life to sustain his own, this was not what death looked like to him. He, like all of his kind, were prohibited from killing innocents, and like Truman, he chose to go after the worst of the worst. He preferred serial killers and serial rapists—those with an undeterrable drive to kill and harm, but even he failed to understand the violence that was playing out in the picture on the table.

“You really want to protect the man who did this?” It was a look near disappointment that flashed across her face. She wanted him to be better than this, and he was, but there was no way to get her to see it. He had no choice but to protect Driscoll, and while he couldn’t fathom what kind of vampire saw need to use this level of violence, it changed nothing. And it left his insides aching. He was also quite livid that he was in the unenviable position of defending a man not worthy of his time from this woman who was very worthy of his time … among other things.

He stared at the picture, feeling ashamed and completely off-kilter. “No. But what I want to do and what I must do don’t always coincide.” His words were quiet, and he sounded nothing like himself as he said them. “I’m sorry, Brit.” She shook her head.

“I’m going to ask you again. Do you know where Driscoll DeMarco is?” She watched him. Her face was harsh and well controlled. This was her element, and she was powerful in her world.

“You’re not going to believe the answer I tell you regardless of what I say. My answer is no. Take it for what it’s worth.”

“I’m inclined to say it’s worth nothing.” She looked exasperated, and he resented the look of disappointment in her eyes.

“Would you feel better if I took a lie-detector test?” He smirked. He was trying to lighten her mood, though he knew it was likely impossible. The memory, feeling, and absolute arousal of three nights before was slipping away by the second, being replaced by this.

“I would actually. I’ll set it up and let you know when and where.” She said nothing more before standing to leave.

“When did you find him? The body I mean.”

“Why don’t you just ask Driscoll when he dumped it? And it’s a her by the way. A nineteen-year-old young woman, not that you’d know by looking at the body.” And then she was gone.

Chapter 7

When Brit entered her townhouse that evening she sacked out on the couch before even eating. Brit didn’t use her landline any more than any other normal person did, so she ignored it more often than not. The landline was saved for telemarketers and people she didn’t truly want to speak to. But when her mother called in a drunken stupor to sob about what a retched parent she’d been and how the world would be better off without her, Brit finally picked up after listening to the old answering machine for the better part of a minute. This conversation would definitely require a glass of wine. And as she stood in her kitchen, stripping out of the clothes she hadn’t bothered removing when she’d lain down on the couch, she poured a rather generous glass.

Brit sleepily staggered to her room and slipped into sweats and a T-shirt as her mother continued to drivel on. It was only after three glasses of wine, the longest damn conversation she’d ever had with her mother, and nearly falling asleep on her bed while her mother whined, that Brit finally found some peace and was able to end the call.

Brit knew there was nothing to be ashamed of at this point in her life in regards to her family. The logical, adult part of her brain knew that, and yet… Every time she ended a call it was the first emotion she felt. She could hear the kids taunting and hurling insult after insult at her. And she felt ashamed. Then she felt guilty. She didn’t want to be ashamed of her parents. She couldn’t stand them, but she loved them, she hurt for them, she was sad for them … but still, she was ashamed, and she resented them. Brit had mastered her emotions as well as anyone could, but when it came to them, she fell apart and suddenly felt pathetic and stupid. She felt like a child of fourteen all over again.

Brit woke the next morning with a mild hangover, but fortunately, dispatch had let her sleep all night long, and she felt as close to rested as she had in a long time. She could hear her cell phone ringing in the other room, and when she finally reached it, it was the polygrapher. Fuck. Brit was feeling just as pathetic and childish as she had the night before. It was the aftereffect of speaking with her mother and dealing with the ghosts of her past, and now this.

She would have to see Angus, talk to him about the polygrapher, and while the part of her brain she wanted to kick and tell to shut up was relishing the idea, the part that was still feeling vulnerable was terrified.

* * * *

When she came knocking a couple days after his rather coerced meeting with her at the precinct, his heart sped for a moment, his teeth protracted painfully into his mouth, and he was practically salivating as he waited for her to make her way to his residence. Thank God he and Truman had hunted the night before or she might really be in trouble. This one made him hungry. Her scent made him want her, crave her, need her, thirst for her, but he’d never hurt her. It would destroy him to hurt one so innocent, but God his body wanted to bite her, taste her.

As he pulled the door open, he watched her coolly. Her heart sped just as his did when she met his eyes, and there was a furious blush on her cheeks. But she looked away from him quickly. He had come to expect her to hold his gaze no matter what, but she was as off-kilter as he was. Every moment their eyes would meet, she would look away. He stood aside and allowed her to enter. She walked past him, and he turned to inhale her scent as she passed him.

Her jaw was usually tight, her posture controlled, but today she looked nervous, vulnerable. He liked her vulnerability plenty; hell, he just plain liked her. But he didn’t enjoy seeing her this nervous with him. This nervous left him wanting to comfort her and touch her, but he couldn’t do either—lest he invite her knee to his groin. Or maybe just another elbow to his jaw.

When she rounded to face him, she glanced past him and bit her lip. She looked incredible again, and her scent was so intoxicating that he had flashes of himself biting her—fucking her and biting her all at once. She stared at his chest and refused to meet his eyes.

“The polygraph’s been scheduled for the day after tomorrow. Four in the afternoon. Are you available?” He studied her, waiting for her to look at him. Of course he was available, but he had no intention of responding to her until she had the gall to look at him. She owed him at least that much. He didn’t need her to tell him he’d given her one hell of an orgasm the other night. Their first meeting in the precinct made it clear enough. The least she could do was look at him.

She was breathing deeply, still staring at his chest. He watched her chest rise and fall, and when she swallowed over a lump in her throat and her brow furrowed, he reached to her shoulder. He shouldn’t, but something about her demeanor was just begging for his touch. It did the trick and she looked up to him. The furrow in her brow remained, but as he watched, her features tightened, her jaw clenched, and she shook her head just slightly. “Well?”

“On one condition.” He watched her. He knew it would piss her off, but he didn’t care. It served no purpose of his at all if there wasn’t a benefit to him of some sort or another. She scowled at his comment and he smirked.

“You didn’t say anything about a condition.” The scowl remained firmly in place.

“Oh it’s not much of a condition. Dinner and conversation. That’s all. Nothing more … unless you want more and are willing to ask for it.” He was going for seductive, and while her expression gave nothing away, the subtle, delicious scent of her arousal that hit his senses told him he was right on the money.

“And that’s it? Dinner and conversation? Care to explain?”

“Well, dinner entails eating. Food for the most part. Drinks are common as well.”

“I meant conversation. What exactly do you mean by that?” She was suspicious.

“I’ll ask questions. You’ll answer them honestly, and as long as you don’t refuse to answer my questions, I’ll take your polygraph.” She was more than suspicious; she didn’t trust him, and why the hell would she? She was also off in some way. She was too shy, too nervous. “Now would you care to tell me what’s got you so out of sorts?”

“You mean aside from my hostile witness who’d rather be sexually inappropriate than do anything decent that might show some glimmer of humanity?”

“Yeah, I mean aside from all that. And I’m quite sure you enjoyed yourself the other night, so if you’re expecting some apology from me, dear, you’ll be waiting one hell of a long time. What bothers you most about me, Brit, the fact you can’t control me with that oh-so-pleasant attitude of yours, or the fact you want to fuck me so damn much?”

“Fuck you.” Her jaw was tight, and her heart was pounding as he watched her.

“I’m afraid until you’re ready to let go of that cold-ass block of bitch sitting on your shoulder there’s little chance of that happening. I want you begging me and submitting to me, and I’m guessing that’s a bit out of your comfort zone at the moment.” He was taunting her, pushing the buttons he knew would trip her up. The funny thing was, he didn’t want to. He enjoyed the scent of her arousal, the increased heart rate, every last sign she inadvertently gave him of just how much she craved him. He may enjoy seeing all of it and knowing he could incite it easily by toying with her, but he was growing weary of it. He wanted her. Pushing her buttons wouldn’t get him there with her though. It was just too damn hard being her enemy when all he wanted was her trust. But he knew well he didn’t deserve it.

There was a drive to her spirit he rarely saw in anyone. She was fighting tooth and nail to be the person she thought she needed to be, escaping some weakness, some past or bond of some sort she didn’t want to be tied to, and he intended to find out what it was. He wanted to see where it came from. He wanted to understand her, reach her, and as fun as it initially was to work her over the same way she was trying to work him over, he wanted more. He wanted all of her.

Chapter 8

“I thought you said dinner.” He had said dinner, but this was a bar. Not just some random bar either, but a quiet, intimate wine bar. Their table was closer to being its own private room than a booth, and it left them sitting close—too close.

“I changed my mind. If you’re hungry, I’ll buy you something to eat…”

“No, I’m not hungry. I’m not thirsty either. I’m only here because I have to be.”

“That’s not true, Brit, and you know it. But if it makes you feel better to convince yourself of your unwilling participation, then so be it.”

After Brit ordered a glass of Pinot Noir, Angus waved the waiter away. “Aren’t you getting anything?”

“I’m not thirsty, but I’m glad you’re having something. Perhaps it will relax you.”

“Well, I’m not crazy about drinking alone. Don’t you like wine? This is a wine bar, and it was your choice to come here.”

“I like champagne … very much.” His brows shot up teasingly and left no doubt he was referring to the fundraiser, and she was blushing before she could rein in her composure. She looked from him instantly, but it was too late. She could see his smirk from her periphery as he studied her. But he didn’t torment her for too long. “Tell me about your family.”

“No.” She was willing to talk about a great many things, but this was not one of them. He continued to study her. He watched with an impressively impassive expression. And it left her fidgeting and wanting to look away from him. But she forced herself to hold his gaze.

“Fine, then you can cancel the polygrapher.” And then pulling a fifty from his pocket, he tossed it on the table and he stood as Brit fought to maintain her composure.

“Stop! Why are you doing this?” She was seething, trying to be quiet but furious he was toying with her again.

He turned back to her, studied her for a moment before leaning to her ear. His lips touched the sensitive skin, and he spoke quietly for only her to hear. “We had a deal. You broke it. I didn’t ask for much, but it was apparently more than you were willing to give.”

And as he righted his body, she grabbed his wrist. He stopped, turned slowly toward her again and looked down to her eyes once more. His crystalline-blue eyes were searing holes into her brain as he studied her, the heat a contradiction to the cool blue. “Fine.” She relented, and as she watched him, he winked and slid back into the close crescent shaped booth.

“So you were just getting ready to tell me all about your family.” He was smirking again. But at least her wine had arrived and given her something to calm her nerves. She took a sip as the warmth spread through her stomach.

“There’s little to tell. We’re not close. I speak with them occasionally, and that’s about it.”

“Well I’m sure it’s difficult to keep in contact when you’re father’s doing thirty in Massachusetts Correctional Institution.” She almost gagged, but managed instead to focus on him. She could feel her cheeks burn, her eyes pop open wide, and she knew there was little she could do to keep the shock of his words from her expression.

“How do you know that?” Duh. Of course it was public record for anyone who would choose to go looking, but rather than ask why he was so intent on looking, she panicked. Her humiliation was creeping up on her.

“I also know you’re mother has a problem staying out of trouble as well, though for decidedly different reasons. Tell me, what was it like growing up with a mother who was a prostitute and a father who was a drug dealer?”

“Why are doing this?” She was nearly whispering as she spoke the words, and she knew there was no strength behind her voice. The humiliation continued to burn through her cheeks, and she could feel tears prick the backs of her eyes. Why could he have not at least have stayed away from the topic of her parents. They were the first, last, and every awful memory in between in her life, and she failed more often than she succeeded at stowing the pain of them.

“Because I can. I want to know you, and I don’t like that you insist on holding me at arm’s length, least of all after I’ve tasted your tits and made you come with nothing more than my words and your absolute need for it. Stop pushing me away.” His words may have been seductive, but his tone was harsh.

“You’ve made it clear you have no intention of helping me, and I absolutely believe you have information pertinent to this case. If I had enough cause to arrest you for obstruction, I would. So you’re kidding yourself if you think I owe you a damn thing.” She was almost shocked that her voice was holding its own. In truth, she was desperately trying to push him away from the topic of her mother and father, and his knowledge of her case seemed as good a reason as any.

When his lips curled up in a smile, her heart fell. She just couldn’t win with this one, and she hated it. But she still couldn’t stop wanting him either. Her skin was flushed as though his smile had reached out and caressed her skin. It was an incredible shiver that ran cool and hot all at the same time through her entire body. She wanted to give in, and though there was no real chance she could, she wanted to anyway. She couldn’t control this one, and she was tired of trying.

When he touched her knee, her head snapped up and she gasped, but she didn’t pull away. Her skin was bare above her knee high dress boots, and she was instantly pissed and glad that she’d chosen a skirt that fell just above her knee. His hand was cool, but still sent warmth pulsing through her body.

“Your parents’ choices aren’t yours, Brit. Why are you so embarrassed of them?” She was embarrassed by them. Always had been. He was far too perceptive, and it had her rattled again. He seemed to see right through her. Through her behavior to the scared and humiliated little girl she really was inside.

He worked his fingers up her thigh as he watched her face. “Don’t be embarrassed with me.” It was a commanding, quiet voice, and his intense eyes backed it up. Brit glanced away as her breath came out in a ragged and terrified sigh. She needed to push him away, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want him to stop … and he didn’t. He never once stopped studying her face as his hand pushed farther up her thigh. Their table was hidden and secluded, and they sat toward the back of the crescent-shaped booth out of anyone’s line of sight.

When his fingers reached the top of her thigh, she parted her legs before she could stop herself. He leaned to her ear. “Thank you. Now try not to be too loud when you come.” And before she had a chance to understand just what he might be implying, he brushed his fingers down under the leg of her underwear and his hand pushed to cup her sex. The moment his palm was hugging her skin, his fingers parted her lips, and he plunged his middle finger deep into her body. But she did moan. It was quiet, and as he heard her ecstasy, he moaned quietly in response to her pleasure.

He pulled his finger from her before plunging two back in swiftly. “You may be cold as hell on the outside, but you are so fucking warm on the inside.” His voice was seductive in her ear. “Now look at me. And don’t even think of taking your eyes off mine.” When he leaned back from her, he sought out her eyes, and she held his. She was panting as his fingers plunged, swirled through her wetness, and pulled back out. His eyes were intense and fiery in their smoldering heat. He plunged over and over as she swallowed harshly over the lump in her throat. She wanted to scream out the moan she was stifling in her throat, and her hands were fisted at her sides. When her body started shaking and her lips started trembling, she knew she was close to losing it.

He sank his fingers to his knuckles, turning, twisting, scissoring, and swirling through her cum as he continued to plunge. He refused to look from her, and he watched as her trembling became more pronounced and her breath started coming in gasps. His expression was impassive, but the smoldering blue heat in his eyes was not—nor was the bulge in his pants that she managed to steal a quick glimpse of. When she came, she gripped and twisted her knuckles into the fabric of his shirt while the fingernails of her other hand dug into her palm. She was fighting hard to stifle the sound from coming out of her mouth, and he watched her as her body convulsed and her stomach muscles twitched through the waves of pleasure that coursed through her body.

When her orgasm finally faded, he didn’t immediately pull his fingers from her body. Instead, he stroked a few more slow and gentle penetrations into her body as the walls of her vagina clenched down on him. And as he pulled his hand from under her skirt, she could see the glistening wetness left on his fingers. He moved his fingers instantly to his mouth, and he sucked them clean quickly. It wasn’t overt nor did it appear to have anything to do with her or the fact she was watching him.

When he reached to her cheek, he pulled her mouth to his and pulled her top lip between his lips. He tasted amazing—like nothing she’d experienced before and completely indescribable. When he claimed her bottom lip, he moaned quietly against her mouth, and then he plunged his tongue. He licked, tasted, and groaned into her mouth as he dipped his tongue into her and explored and tasted her taste. When he finally pulled back from her, he looked just as shocked and desperate as she felt.

“You have to stop hating me, because I want you too fucking much to stop.” She was still gasping and trying to catch her breath as he spoke.

She stared, unable to look away, and then, finding some semblance of control, she stood and turned back to him before she failed to fight him off again. “Tomorrow at four. Please don’t be late.” Her voice was shuddering and lurching as she spoke, but she managed to get the words out before she turned her back on him and walked away.

She wanted to look back, she wanted to go back, she wanted to give into him and be done with it, but she couldn’t. She was overstepping some major boundaries with him. Allowing a witness, unwilling or not, to put his mouth on her was most definitely not okay; letting him put his fingers in her body was so far outside the realm of okay it was laughable. This wasn’t Brit. Brit was controlled, boring, and emotionally constipated to the point of being frigid. She was not easily dissuaded from her path. But she kept crumbling with him.

He had a strength and composure she couldn’t quite wrap her head around, and she certainly couldn’t beat him at his game or hers either.

* * * *

When she picked up after the second ring, he was almost shocked. The wine bar had been incredible. When she cut him off before he was ready to see her go, he’d been disappointed. The feel of her warmth and wetness gripping his fingers as he stroked into her body was enough to leave him wanting to fuck her right there in the bar, and had she stuck around long enough, he wasn’t at all sure he wouldn’t have figured out some way to make that happen. But she’d pushed him away again.

It’s not as if he blamed her. Of course she had to push him away, but she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. Of that, he was certain. He may not have needed her to tell him about her family to know about the disastrous people her parents were—there were plenty of police reports to paint a good picture. He wanted her to talk to him about it.

“Why are you calling me? Wasn’t the wine bar enough?” She sounded exasperated with him.

“The wine bar wasn’t nearly enough. Now tell me about your parents. It couldn’t have been easy growing up in a home like that, and I want to know about it.”

“Why is this so important to you?” Her voice was a desperate whisper. He didn’t need her to tell him this was hard for her to talk about.

“Because it’s an important part of you.” He was being as honest as he ever had been. He was desperate to hear her talk—really talk. He didn’t want to hear her shtick or her attitude. He wanted the real her. And after a long pause where he could nearly hear the gears in her in brain turning, she finally gave in.

“It was humiliating and pathetic. I was never important enough for them to stop.” He stayed quiet. He didn’t want to give her any reason to stop talking. “My mother’s been an addict as long as I can remember. She didn’t start hooking until my father was busted. He’d always kept her strung out just the way she liked it, and with him gone, she became desperate. Didn’t really seem to have much effect on her though. She was high all the time anyway and didn’t much care how or what she had to do to stay that way. So, I was just alone.”

“I’m sorry, Brit. That couldn’t have been easy. How old were you?”

“Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. I did what I could to stay out of the system when she’d be arrested, but I was too young to take care of myself. I missed school all the time, ended up held back a year, and once the other kids caught on to what my mom did for a living, they tormented me.” Her voice was flat, controlled, but he could still hear the pain behind it. She tried so hard to hide it, but it was there. He guessed it drove the core of her being to some extent or another.

“You were incredibly strong to endure that and still thrive.” He wasn’t codling her, patronizing her, or even trying to work her over. It wasn’t the first time he’d glimpsed the hurt and vulnerable child that lurked inside her, and he truly was impressed that she’d managed to make so much of herself with the deck so harshly and unfairly stacked against her.

“I didn’t thrive at all. I was miserable. I struggled to keep up with schoolwork, and I nearly gave up more times than I can recall.”

“Sometimes thriving is just our ability to stay the course, no matter how difficult it is. You survived, Brit. Doesn’t that mean anything?”

“I suppose.” She didn’t seem the least bit convinced of it. “But it sure didn’t feel like surviving, least of all thriving. I felt like I was drowning most of the time, and worse than that, no one would notice or even care if I did. I was just lost. Half of my being where I am today is sheer luck. I was at the right place at the right time. I met the right people. I got the right breaks…”

“And you developed the right attitude to keep you on course.”

“If you think I owe you an apology for being a bitch, you’re going to be waiting a long damn time.”

He chuckled at her easy defense. He hated it, but he understood it. “I wasn’t suggesting anything of the sort. I can handle your attitude, Brit, though I admit I like it when you let it go for a bit. It’s not needed with me, but I’m guessing you would disagree with that.”

“You want, by your own admission, to disrupt my investigation. I’m not sure what you expect from me.” Her voice was quiet, confused even. She wasn’t being sarcastic; she was dead serious.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I wished we were on the same team. I don’t like that you don’t trust me, and I understand very well that I’ve given you every reason to distrust me. But regardless, it has nothing to do with my attraction to you. I can’t help that. It complicates things for me too.” This last came out as a mutter rather than a reassurance. “I’m not responsible for the deaths you’re investigating. I would never do that to someone. And I think you know that or at least suspect it on a gut level.” She said nothing as he spoke, but he could hear her quiet breathing on the other end. “I just want you.” And after a long pause, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” And he hung up without another word.

Chapter 9

It was nearly four and she’d been pacing around her desk for the better part of fifteen minutes. Humphreys had been eyeballing her from his own desk the entire time, but he was blessedly staying quiet like he always did and like she preferred. Humphreys and Brit seldom worked in tandem, and aside from initial homicide responses, they usually divvied up the duties of an investigation. It wasn’t protocol, but they didn’t care. It worked for them.

“What the hell, Brit.” He was one person that got away with the casual address. “You’re wearing a damn path around the desk, and frankly, you’re annoying the shit out of me.” His voice was gruff and husky after years of chain-smoking Reds. He stunk like an ashtray, and on a good day when he actually did something, that stench was coupled with body odor. Blessedly this day had been a slow one for him.

Brit kept pacing, glaring at him, and chomping her gum loudly and nervously. She said nothing in response to his words and kept walking. Walking and chomping away as the minutes slowly ticked off. If his cigarettes were sitting out on his desk, she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t imbibe just this once. But they weren’t sitting out. Humphreys took to glaring right back at her as she kept up her speed walking desk laps.

When her desk phone rang, she froze midlap and stared at it. She studied it as it rang while Humphreys glared with a look of disgust on his face. She was acting weird, and she damn well knew it.

“Yeah?” she snapped into the receiver when she finally got control of her limbs and picked it up.

“Uh… Hi, Detective Sutton. Your four o’clock is here for you, and the polygrapher’s already set up.

“Fine. I’ll be up in a minute.” She paced for another couple minutes, hating the nerves that were fluttering through her gut. After popping another stick of gum, she finally made her way to the front desk. When she rounded the corner, he was there. He looked oddly out of place. He was far too handsome, too pristine and perfect-looking for their sterile precinct.

“Hello, Brit.” His voice was purring out to her senses and left her blushing instantly as the desk clerk stared from one to the other of them.

“Detective.”

He smirked, never taking his eyes from hers. “Of course, Brit.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, wanting and trying to look away from him as he continued to study her. She failed and found her cheeks burning again. He had the uncanny ability to crawl right under her skin whenever she was in his presence. And she hated it. She hated it because she liked it.

“I’ll take you to the polygrapher. Follow me.” She turned from him and led the way down the adjoining corridor to the spare office the polygrapher used when he had business at their precinct.

Polygraph wasn’t something Brit preferred to use in an investigation. She couldn’t take it to court, and the DA would be furious if she even tried to pass it off as evidence. But Angus had offered, and she wasn’t willing to let that slide. He wasn’t her suspect, so there was little chance anything she gleaned from his polygraph would actually end up in court, but she wanted to see how he responded nonetheless.

He followed closely at her shoulder, and when they were halfway down the corridor, she felt his fingers run lightly down the back of her arm. She was wearing a gauzy, navy-blue, long-sleeve Henley with gray pinstripe slacks, and his touch was easily felt through the thin fabric of her shirt. She fought to control her reaction to his touch, and swallowing over a lump in her throat, she did her best to ignore him, but her body started trembling as she kept walking and warmth was radiating out from the place on the back of her upper arm that his fingers had just touched.

“How are you?” They weren’t alone in the corridor, but his voice was warm, seductive, and quiet as they walked.

“I’m fine.” And then she stopped and rounded toward him. “Aren’t you the least bit concerned that you’re getting ready to be polygraphed about a subject you’ve already admitted you know more about than you’ve been willing to divulge?” She was trying to throw him off his game, not exactly expecting it to work. It never worked with him, but she thought this of all things might warrant a reaction of some sort from him.

“There’s little that worries me, Brit.” And then winking at her, he continued, “Shall we?” And he strolled down the corridor away from her. She caught up to him and led the remainder of the way to the office. She’d already filled the polygrapher in on what she was trying to determine, and after introducing the two, she left them alone together in the office.

Michael Emerson was one of the best polygraphers in the city, and she trusted his abilities. It wouldn’t matter in court, but she knew whatever results he obtained would be as accurate as any. He was an older man with silver hair and a calm disposition. Brit took a seat on a bench in the hallway, intent on waiting until they finished, but after about fifteen minutes, Chief Childers found her and pulled her away for an update on the case.

There was little she could tell him, and when she mentioned she had a subject in polygraph, he appeared none too happy with her, especially given the fact she had no real evidence aside from a few random comments from Angus that he was obstructing her investigation. Her saving grace was the fact that Angus had offered to take the polygraph, and even that seemed only to calm Childers reservations slightly.

When Brit made her way back to the corridor, she found Michael strolling toward her with his equipment in tow and Angus strolling away from them both toward the front lobby. But when Brit met Mike, rather than stopping to speak with her, he waltzed right on by giving her nothing more than a casual greeting. She stalled in her confusion, turning to stare after him. “Wait, Mike…” He stopped and turned to her, smiling.

“Yes, Detective. Can I help you?” He was smiling and as friendly as always.

“Hey, Angus!” She called after him as he stopped, turned on his heel, and smirked back at her. When she looked from him to Mike in confusion, Angus waltzed casually toward them, never losing his smirk.

Brit turned back to Mike. “Well? I mean … the polygraph? Angus Scott?” She indicated Angus as he made his way toward them. Mike looked at her confused, and she matched his confusion with her own utter shock and perplexed expression.

“I’m sorry. I’m not sure what you’re referring to?”

“What! Mike… I just introduced you to Angus. You were going to polygraph him.” She was still pointing to her cool, blue-eyed tormentor.

He glanced around perplexed, caught sight of Angus, and then gave her a quirky smile that suggested he thought she was far crazier than she thought he was. “I’m sorry, Brit, but I don’t know who this is or what you’re talking about. Are you okay?” She was starting to wonder…

“Well hello, Brit. If you don’t mind, I’m in a bit of hurry, and I really do need to get going.” Angus had just reached them, and he was looking at her with his inappropriately seductive expression, ignoring Mike entirely.

“Angus! You … and you… What the hell is going on?” She looked incredulously at them, and she felt like she was losing her mind. The men regarded each other, Mike still with his quirky look of confusion, and Angus with a cool, impassive expression. When Angus’ focus returned to her, he shrugged mildly, smirked at her and then winked as she gaped at him. Mike stood by slowly shaking his head as if he couldn’t quite figure out what to make of Brit’s behavior.

“Mike, you were giving Angus a polygraph. I left to speak with the chief, and when I got back, he was leaving and you were too. Are you done already? Or…” She couldn’t stop shaking her head as her brain struggled to figure out what was happening.

“Detective, I don’t know Angus or what you think I was doing here, but…” Then he stopped cold and started looking around, and for the first time, he looked like maybe he was going crazy and he was realizing it for the first time. Brit just kept staring at the poor man, and Angus stood by casually if not amused. “What am I doing here?” Mike looked scared.

Angus reached a gentle hand to his arm and looked him dead in the eye with his cool, confident, blue gaze. “I’m sure you recall, Mike, you were going to polygraph me, but there was a problem…”

Relief washed over Mike’s face as he looked at Angus and understanding returned. “Yes. That’s right.” He was staring at the wall behind Angus, and he took his time collecting his thoughts before turning back to Brit, shaking his head and speaking again. “I’m sorry, Detective. I just … I’m not sure what happened there … uh … but yes. The equipment appears to be working correctly, but the readings didn’t make sense. No perspiration readings, heart-rate sensor was showing odd results. I can’t explain it really, but there must be something off on the calibration or … perhaps the sensors… I’m not sure, but we’ll have to reschedule.”

He quickly left them, still shaking his head. And when Mike was out of earshot, she glared at Angus. “What the hell did you do?” She was damn near yelling, and a number of bystanders stopped in their tracks and stared at her outburst.

“Why, Brit, I have no idea what you’re suggesting.” He was smiling at her, and she was suddenly gasping for breath. She didn’t understand what she’d just witnessed, but it brought her up short. She was either going crazy or … or what? What the hell had she just seen?

“You … did something to him. I know you did. What…?”

“I really do need to go. You’ll let me know when they reschedule the test?” And then he was gone. She stayed rooted to her spot on the floor watching him walk away from her down the hall. She suddenly felt as though she was seeing something impossible in front of her. The other officers and detectives that were walking down the hall somehow seemed to bend and move around him as though he was his own universe. It wasn’t really happening of course, but he was not like them. He was not like her. There was something so very inhuman about him, and there was no amount of studying or watching that would allow her to wrap her brain around what she’d seen, or what it all meant.

Her phone rang the moment she returned to her desk. The walk back from the first level was a haze. She’d stumbled through the halls, feeling so lost in thought that a time or two she had found herself in the wrong part of the building in some random corridor. She tried to figure it out, but there was no sorting through it. Mind control? Hypnosis? A damn concussion to poor Mike’s brain?

When she picked up, she was startled to hear Mike’s voice. He sounded nervous, or perhaps just confused. “Detective, I’m really sorry about what happened today, but I just can’t seem to figure it out myself. I … I…” And after a loud, steadying sigh, he continued, “I swear when we met in hall, I had no memory of that man, and then it was as if the memory was there or was back in my head again. I mean … the memory was back. I don’t… I don’t know what to say or how to explain it, but…” And then he trailed off.

“Mike, it’s okay. I’m sure it was nothing.” She wasn’t convinced of that at all, but what the hell was a person supposed to say when someone admitted something impossible happened to them. Truth was, she believed him. And it had something to do with Angus. She believed that as well.

“Well, beyond that, I analyzed my equipment when I returned to my office, and Brit … there’s nothing wrong with my polygraph. I mean, I got readings from him, but they don’t make any damn sense, and not because the polygraph was functioning improperly … because he was functioning improperly.”

“What are you saying?” Her heart was pounding, her palms were suddenly clammy, Humphreys was staring at her in annoyance, and she was on the verge of panicking.

“There’s something wrong with him. No perspiration reading, and I mean nothing.”

She was grasping at straws. “Well maybe he just doesn’t sweat much…”

“No, Detective, I mean not even trace levels that are inherently there if you’re human. And his pulse… He had a pulse, but it wasn’t normal, not human normal, not any sort of normal at all. It was unsteady to say the least. And I’m talking … really unsteady. Maybe you’d hear a beat like that if a hundred-year-old man was getting ready to infarct. Too slow, too uneven. Nothing normal … or viable about it. And I don’t care what species you are. You can’t survive that sort of random, chaotic beat.”

Brit was silent. She had no idea what to say, no idea what to think. Every last part of the past hour of her life was impossible, and yet, she was awake, she was certain she was sane. She was also certain Mike wasn’t crazy either. There was something oh so very wrong with Mr. Angus Scott.

* * * *

She looked hysterical as she stood in his doorway. “I want to know what you did to him!” She was practically shrieking. Clint was standing behind her waiting for word he should escort her from the building. Of course that wasn’t going to happen.

“Clint, you may go. Brit, perhaps you should come in and sit down before you have a stroke. I don’t relish the thought of you dying in my hallway from utter fury.”

When she brushed past him, it was with a sidewise glance that left him convinced she thought he was a monster. Wasn’t he? She refused to look away from him, but it wasn’t nearly the expression he’d prefer to see from her. She was leery, nervous; distrustful was an understatement.

“What are you?”

“A man.” He smirked slightly, but he knew better than to push his luck. She wasn’t up for his torment.

“Bullshit! You’re … you’re something … there’s something different about you!” She looked like she might unhinge at any moment and slug him.

“Is that so? And what is so different. Does my body not work like a man?” He cocked his head to the side as she stared at him. “You know full well it does.” He continued to study her, but he didn’t push her. He stowed the smirk he would normally be giving her, and he watched her without a shred of challenge.

He wasn’t expecting the blatant show of his powers at the precinct to go unnoticed, least of all by her. It wasn’t for Michael Emerson’s benefit. He’d only met the man once, and he knew from plenty of past experience that the man would eventually chalk it up to nothing more than a fluke, an off day. But he’d let Brit see him. And Brit knew him well enough, whether she wanted to admit it or not, to not fall into that trap easily.

He had no business doing it, and he knew the only way to erase it was to erase every last memory of himself from her mind. Their lives were entangled, and even without the search for Driscoll pushing them along together, there was no denying their connection. And it was too painful to even consider removing himself from her mind. He didn’t want to start over with her, and yet … he knew he couldn’t stay away from her. He was starting to feel more like Truman by the minute, and it was intoxicating and infuriating all at the same time. He didn’t want to fight his way back to this place with her, and frankly, this place was a far distance from where he’d like to be with her. She was, after all, still holding him at arm’s length, and every encounter was a fight, and he damn well knew it. But he wanted her to see him, and part of him didn’t care how reckless it was. He’d always intended to wipe Michael’s mind from the get-go, but he hadn’t intended to flaunt it in front of Brit.

“I don’t know what you are … but you’re not … normal. Not human.” She was accusing him as though what she was saying could somehow offend him. In a way, it did.

“Then what, pray tell, am I?” He continued to study her reaction calmly and coolly. He watched as her eyelids fluttered. It was a mentally exhausted reaction. She didn’t know what to think, and he understood that. She was rigid in her fury, in her absolute confusion. This woman couldn’t stand not being in control, and right now, she was lost, and control was nowhere near her grasp.

When he grabbed her body and pushed her swiftly up to the wall beside her, it was with a speed that left little time for her to react; it was exactly the intention. He listened to her heart race. His hand was holding her waist in place, and his eyes were staring in smoldering need. He had to have her. She had to know him, and he couldn’t stand to be pushed away by her when she wanted him so damn much—not for even one more moment.

But he waited.

She was gasping as his mouth lowered to her neck. She was in shock, and he intended to wake her body up. If she thought her control was being challenged before, he was going to make sure she understood just how pleasurable it could be to hand over her power to him. He started just below her ear, grazing his teeth, which had already started to protract, carefully and slowly down the side of her neck. He was gentle enough not to break the skin, but the sharp points of his protracted canines were leaving red streaks of slightly raised and inflamed skin in their path as he moved. Her heartbeat instantly sped at the feel. When he hit the spot just where her neck met her clavicle, he licked. Her V-neck shirt was helpful, but not helpful enough, and as he reached to the neckline, he pulled the fabric toward her shoulder, opening up the rest of her collarbone. He licked lightly across the protruding bone, listening to her heart pound, and he waited some more.

And then it was there.

Her arousal hit his senses like an aphrodisiac he’d become addicted to, and he was done waiting any longer. He pushed his rigid length hard against her groin as she moaned, and then leaning to her ear, he spoke through gritted teeth. “If I’m not a man, what the fuck am I?” His tone was as harsh as his words, and she shivered in his arms at the intense sound of his voice. “Don’t tell me I’m not a man.” He was damn near growling at her.

She didn’t resist when he lifted her hips to straddle his and pushed his groin harshly into hers, pinning her body to the wall. She also didn’t resist when he pulled their bodies from the wall and lay her down on the cold hard marble floor of his entryway. Taking her to bed would of course be appropriate, but he was beyond being appropriate anymore. And when he pressed down on top of her body, he pushed his arousal hard into her warm, clothed pussy. He could feel the heat of her body soothing the throbbing ache in his groin, and his brain started begging him to be done with it already. He was desperate.

He grabbed her hand and forcefully thrust it between their bodies to his groin. And the moment her rigid and shocked palm was against the strained bulge in his pants, he sighed and dropped his head to her shoulder. “Goddamn it, Brit! I can’t stand it anymore, and I know you can’t either. Stop fighting me.” And her palm relaxed just marginally.

He could hear her tight throat as it swallowed harshly in her nervousness. But when her palm relaxed further and gently glided a trembling path over the front of his pants, he moaned, and every last tormenting moment with her became worth it. The pressure was a tease to his pulsing and flexing erection. He wanted inside her body so much his cool blood felt as though it was on fire.

When she undid his button and lowered the zipper as he hovered over her body, still snug between her legs, her fingers still trembled, but there was such haste and abandon that he knew there was no stopping her now. She pushed her hand down beneath the waistband of his underwear, and as her fingers made first contact with the hard shaft of his cock, he groaned so loud he thought he might scare her. She wrapped her fingers around his length and slid down the shaft toward his testicles. There was little room for her hand with his body pressed so hard against hers, and leaning his weight on an elbow, he quickly undid the waist of her slacks, lowered the zipper, and then started yanking them roughly down her hips as her hand slipped from his pants.

He leaned back from her body as he finished pulling her pants and underwear completely from her legs, and when he came down onto her body again, he pushed between her legs. She was grasping and clutching at the waist of his pants as she shoved them down his hips hastily to expose his cock further. Her lips were trembling as he moved into position, and then he pushed, and she cried out. The engorged head of his penis pushed past her lips and into her body before she even had the chance to object. It was a scorching hot heat he’d not felt for more centuries than he could recall. Her tight, wet, warmth parted around his impaling cock, and as he pushed deeper, she cried out a strangled gasping cry as her stomach muscles twitched and the breath left her lungs.

Her cunt was unbelievably tight as he pushed past the clenching muscles that gripped desperately around him, and the tight warmth kept relenting and giving way as his force moved him deeper and deeper. Her groan was guttural and sounded as though the breath had been knocked from her gut, but he pushed until he was buried deep to his hilt.

He paused for only a second, taking in her shocked and wide eyes. They glistened in their golden-brown color as they watched him. He could see the surprise, the panic at what she was allowing, and before she had a chance to regain her composure and control, he pulled swiftly from her body and thrust back into her tight sheath hard to her depths as she cried out again. His knees were braced on the hard, cold floor, and his bones ground into the unyielding surface painfully, but he ignored it.

When he started pushing and pulling, the pistoning movement gaining speed and power as he pumped into her body, she clutched at his waist. He had only managed to get his pants slightly past his buttocks, and they’d been abandoned the moment his cock finally entered her body, but as he moved against her body, she pushed them down farther along his thighs, and then moved her hands to grip the cheeks of his bottom as she pulled him against her body.

He knew he was being rough; he was pounding against her, bracing a hand on the wall behind her head while the other held her knee pushed out to her side. But she was writhing under his body, and the heady scent of her arousal was coupled with only the slightest tinge of blood. She was moaning, clutching and gripping at him as he sank deep over and over again. He didn’t want to be the overzealous man who couldn’t control his cock, but frankly, he couldn’t control his cock at the moment. He’d stifled his desire for her for too long, and it was pouring out of him in a harsh, pounding fuck.

When her nails dug into his lower back as her orgasm overcame her body, it sent splinters of pain radiating up his spine. Her nails were digging in deep and desperate as she came, and her tight sheath was clenching around him as he pumped hard into her body. When she cried out his name, it was all over for him, and he let loose a deep growl as he released himself in surges inside her body. She was gasping and clawing into his back as her orgasm faded, and he watched her face as his own release worked through his body in shuddering waves of ecstasy. When his body finally stilled, he trained his focus on her, but her gaze shifted to a place over his shoulder. She tried to look back at him, but her eyes shifted again. She was nervous.

They were still partially clothed, and he watched the small indentation at the base of her neck perfectly framed by the V of her shirt. He could hear the blood whooshing through her veins as her heart rate slowed, and the scent of her fear filled the space between them as much as her lingering arousal did.

When he leaned to her chest, pulled her shirt down to expose her breast, and latched on to the tight pink nipple, she sucked in a gasping breath. Her back was arched to his mouth as his cock stayed buried in her body still hard and rigid. But within moments, she was pulling away, twisting away from his mouth and trying to sit up. When he slipped from her body as she pulled herself up, she groaned quietly before pushing away from him and standing.

She was hastily grabbing at her clothes as he watched her. He pulled his shirt off and finished stripping out of his pants while she tried to dress. She was fumbling and nearly tripped when she tried to step into her slacks. He stood naked in front of her as she fumbled with her clothes. She was trying not look at his body, but his arousal was still hard and rigid in long-overdue need. “Where are you going?”

“I have to … I have to go.”

“Not yet. I want more.” He was eyeing her, stroking his glistening cock still covered in her cum, and she was trembling in nervousness. She was not being very Brit at all, and he almost wanted to give her the strength she needed to be the bitch that made her feel safe and secure in the world.

When he reached out and undid the button of the pants she’d only just managed to get refastened, she pulled away for a moment, but then her fists clenched at her side, and she exhaled a deep sigh. He was winning. “I really have to go. This was a mistake.” He pushed his hand down under the waist of her pants and underwear without lowering the zipper as he pushed her up against the wall again. The pants were tight against his hand, but he managed to get his fingers between her pussy lips and deep into her body without her pulling away.

He thought for a moment she might push him away, but she never ceased to surprise him. Her hands moved to his biceps, and her head dropped to his chest as she whimpered and gave up. He leaned down to her neck and spoke quietly against her ear. “I promise, I’ll be gentler this time.” His heart was lurching and racing as much at her softening demeanor and intimate touch as his reinvigorated want. He used his free hand to lower the zipper and give his hand more room to maneuver, and then he pushed his hand up under her shirt to her breast. He groped and kneaded the perky roundness of her breast as he kept plunging his other fingers into her pussy.

He had two fingers buried deep inside her body and he worked them slowly in and out. His thrusts slid perfectly into her tightness through the lubrication of his semen, and as he plunged and pulled, she gasped. “We didn’t use protection.” Her voice was quiet.

“Yes, I know. And I’m enjoying the feel of my cum in your sweet, tight pussy immensely.”

“I’m not on birth control, and who knows what you…”

“Relax, sweetness. You needn’t worry about pregnancy or health concerns. I’m not nearly human enough to be a threat to you in either regard.”

When she suddenly pulled away from his body, and his fingers slipped from her pussy, he let out a long and defeated sigh. He was going to have to work for every last touch and taste he could get from her.

“What are you saying?” She looked confused, and more than that, suspicious.

“You’re the one who thinks I’m less a man than I ought to be. How about you answer that question.” He was smirking. He was hoping it would lighten her mood, but he knew well enough at this point that was a pipe dream.

“I didn’t say less than human. I said inhuman. There’s a difference.”

“Then what am I, Brit? Tell me what you think you know.” He stood by naked with his arms crossed on his chest as he studied her.

This was how his kind dodged these questions when erasing a mind wasn’t possible … or desirable. Challenging a person’s suspicions until they couldn’t quite wrap their head around it was a very effective way of misleading humans. He knew regardless of how strong-minded Brit was she’d eventually give up trying to reconcile the impossible with the possible. The drawback: she’d end up thinking she was the crazy one and not him.

“I have to go. I can’t do this.” Her head dropped, and he watched as the fire went out in her eyes. She may well want him, but she wasn’t willing to go any further with him on this night. He stood back and watched, and as she fixed her clothing, he said nothing. He had no intention of arguing with her at this point. It would serve no purpose, and while he may want to beg her to stay and give into him again, he had enough pride to keep himself from doing it.

Chapter 10

Brit arrived home to the light blinking on her answering machine. No one had tried her cell, so she knew it couldn’t be too important, and at the moment, she was entirely too busy going insane to listen to messages. What the fuck had just happened? Brit paced, sipped wine, stopped the moment a trill of ecstasy ran through her body, and then started pacing again. Of course, her absolute repletion wasn’t the only thing on her mind, though it seemed to dwarf everything else. She couldn’t shake the thought that Angus was just not quite as human as he ought to be, and there was no ignoring that fact … even if she couldn’t stop the warm pulse of need running through her body straight to her groin every time she imagined his face, his sound, his touch. But what the hell was he? In one moment she thought she might be onto something profound, and then she started pacing again when she realized her epiphany also meant she was a lunatic.

He was human. Of course he was human. What the hell else would he be? There was nothing else. There was only human; nothing else existed beyond that. Brit didn’t believe in make believe. She didn’t even believe in ghosts, though every other show on cable tried to convince her she ought to hire a medium, speak to her dead grandfather, and explore old ramshackle prisons in the middle of the night just for the hell of it while videotaping herself trying to start a fight with phantom spirits. Still, Brit didn’t believe. She didn’t believe in psychics, she didn’t believe in ghosts, she didn’t believe in mind control, and she sure as hell didn’t think she was a lunatic.

But she’d seen it. She’d watched him do … do … something she couldn’t explain. And she wasn’t even sure what that something was. It was as if he’d controlled Michael’s mind, and just like that, given it right back to him. There was no doubt in Brit’s mind that Michael was sane—as sane as she was in fact. There was also no doubt in her mind Angus had been responsible for whatever it was that had happened to Michael.

And then she had sex with him. What the fuck … and another pulse of electric arousal coursed through her veins at nothing more than the thought.

Was that mind control too? No, if it was it wouldn’t explain her desire to sleep with him from the moment she first met him. Would it? This was just the culmination of wanting him for too long. Wasn’t it? So, why did she do it? Being attracted to him wasn’t enough to get her in bed with the man. She was stronger than that, more controlled than that for sure. But she’d crumbled.

The moment she felt the power behind his body as he pushed her against the wall, the turgid length of his arousal pressed harshly against her body, and the desperate need in his movements that matched her own desire, she wanted to give in, and she finally did. Brit didn’t ever want to give in. But when she was with him, it was all she ever wanted to do. She wanted to melt into his strength and turn off her hypervigilant brain. There was a safety to him that made no sense whatsoever given what she’d just witnessed.

If he wasn’t a man, she wasn’t sure she cared.

* * * *

Brit’s phone rang at one in the morning. This was the part she hated the most about her job. She could never get used to being woken from a dead sleep in the middle of the night much like the mother of a newborn. Only she woke to dead bodies and not sweet crying babies. When she answered, it was dispatch. When they said teenager, Brit’s heart sank. She wasn’t immune to devastation, and children did it every time. It had destroyed her emotionally on more than one occasion for months, and she dreaded every mile that took her to the waiting crime scene in Jamaica Plain.

The night was as cold as any, and her breath fogged and hung like a cold crystal cloud in front of her mouth as she exhaled, waiting for Humphreys to arrive. Every inhalation felt as though her nostrils might freeze shut, and the best thing she could say about a winter crime scene was there was rarely a smell associated with it. Preservation was made far easier of course, but with that came an almost indeterminable time of death unless someone happened upon the body immediately after it was dumped. But she could at least rest easy, knowing she didn’t have to smell death even if she had to look at it.

When Humphreys finally arrived he looked the way she felt—tired, ugly, and crabby as hell. He grumbled his greeting to her, and said nothing else as they made their way down to Jamaica Pond on the well-trodden walkways. It was too cold for anyone to be out for a stroll at this time of night in the dead of winter, and yet, there was a witness.

The man sat on a bench with an officer beside him. He looked rough. He was obviously a street punk, dope dealer, who knew. But this was his element. His eyes shifted constantly and held no one’s focus for longer than half a second. He was likely high as a kite, but he’d stuck around. She had to give him credit for that much at least.

Crime-scene techs were already on site down by the water’s edge in the outcrop of trees that the body lay in. They made way for her and Humphreys, and the moment she was within a couple feet of the body, she was hit with it. This was a fresh kill. It didn’t reek of rotting flesh, but it had the strong, hot smell of iron. The blood had already soaked out to the surrounding snow, and it was exactly what she’d feared. Shredded.

This body was small and young. The estimate of a teenager was likely dead-on. The clothes, what she could see of them that weren’t torn to shreds or saturated in blood were rough, old, dirty, and grimy and likely secondhand. A street kid like the others—albeit younger than the last. She didn’t linger long at the scene. Her heart was groaning and begging her to have a meltdown and get it over with. There would be parents to notify, parents to watch languish over their loss. Even street kids belonged to someone.

When she made it back up to the officer and witness, she wasted no time introducing herself. “What did you see?” She didn’t want to sound too harsh, but she also didn’t want him getting nervous and clamming up on her.

“Blood. On his face… I don’t … I don’t… He wasn’t human, man. I don’t know what he was, but he wasn’t… No…” Now he had her interest. Hell, hadn’t she just accused a man of being inhuman already today? The witness was shaking his head. He was incredulous, dumfounded. She understood that feeling well.

“I’m going to need you to come to the precinct and give a statement.”

“Oh man… I have to come in? Can I just…”

“No. You witnessed a murder. We need a statement, and we need one now. Don’t worry. No one here gives a shit what you were doing wandering around in the middle of the night in a deserted park.”

When she finally managed to get the witness into an interview room, he was shaking, pacing, and he looked like a startled rabbit that might stroke out at any moment. Yeah, he was an addict, and right now, he’d do just about anything to get a fix. Poor man witnessed a murder most likely while he was out drug seeking. That’ll sure put a wrench in his drug habit.

“So tell me more about the person you saw.” She sat back and settled into listen. She wanted to hear every last detail he could remember. This was as close as any living subject had gotten to her suspect, and she was practically drooling in anticipation.

“He was biting her. She was screaming at first and then … nothin’. She was just a kid … just a kid. I mean … like … she wasn’t a kid kid like a little one or nothin’, but she was young, and he just … he just…” He was raking his hands through his hair as he paced. Brit stayed seated in the chair, trying to appear as calm as possible. He didn’t need to see her anxiety, her excitement. He had plenty of adrenaline pumping through his veins already. Humphreys was in the next room watching. He was shockingly good at sitting back and observing the nuances and body language when Brit interrogated a subject, and he nearly always shed light on the easy to miss cues that she’d overlooked during the interview.

“He just what?”

“It was like watchin’ some damn public television show where the lion is tearing the throat out of some poor animal. You know thems gazelles that’r always gettin’ themselves killed off? She didn’t have a chance, that poor one. No chance…” His head dropped, and he was shaking his head back and forth.

The man looked as stunned as any witness she’d ever spoken to. His words were rambling and disjointed, but she listened. She could ask questions later. Right now, she wanted his mouth to have full run of the room. “She was choking, likes she was choking on water… Probably just her blood, and then he saw me. I’d come up on the path behinds him. I heard her screaming for a ways off, and I was just checking it out’s all. But he saws me, and that’s when I gots scared, man. He had teeth on him like nothin’ I ever seen before. Brightest moon I seen in a long time, and I tell you those teeth was white and damn near glowing out there.” More head shaking as he collapsed into the chair. “They wasn’t teeth though. Not real ones. They was fangs. Looked like some movie actor from a horror film. His face was covered in blood, dripping from his chin. He was eating that poor thing alive. I ain’t no perfect man, but I just … I just can’t imagine anybody doing that to a kid.”

“After he saw you, what happened? Did he threaten you? Did he say anything to you at all?”

“Nah, man. Would have though. I think he would have killed me for sure. There was a group of kids suddenly shouting and carrying on by the street. They wasn’t close, but it startled him and he ran. Didn’t say nothin’, just run off. And he run fast too, man. Like way faster as I can run. Just gone. I tried to help the girl, man, but she was gone. Like eyes open dead gone. Couldn’t do nothin’ for it. Ain’t never gonna forget those eyes, man. Just open wide and dead.” He was back to shaking his head. He was staring at his lap and just shaking his head back and forth over and over again.

“Could you pick him out of a photo lineup?” She wanted to cross her fingers, say a prayer, hold her breath, and anything else that might make this desperate wish of hers come true, but she sat stoically calm as she waited for his answer.

“Yeah. Shit yeah. I ain’t gonna forget that face.” Hallelujah!

Kissing the witness would be inappropriate, so instead she offered him a pop and excused herself from the room. Humphreys had a smug smirk on his fat, pudgy face; it was as close to a smile as the man owned, and it had her grinning from ear to ear.

“Well we may not be able to find our perp, but I’m guessing after tonight, we’ll at least have a solid witness on record that can finger him for it. It’s as close to victory as we’re going to get right now.” She couldn’t get the grin off her face.

“Got that right, Sutton. I’ll get the photos lined up. You owe that man a pop.” Hell, she’d pack his crack pipe for him if she could.

Brit didn’t get to sleep that night, and by morning, they had a positive ID on their suspect—one Driscoll DeMarco was seen devouring the neck of a fifteen-year-old runaway by the name of Ruby Pierson. She had no business being in that park at that hour. She had no business running away from home two months prior. And she sure as hell had no business dying a brutal death before she ever had the chance to get clean and live a life.

Brit was exhausted. And while she’d not forgotten that her suspect had cannibalized the victim or the wild tales of long-fanged canine teeth or even the swift moving phantom in the middle of the night, those details had taken a back seat to the fact that she had a witness that could place her suspect at the scene with the victim. It wasn’t until Brit finally got home late morning and sacked out on her couch that those revelations, those likely drug-starved paranoid ramblings, caught up to her once again. And Angus came to mind.

She drifted off to sleep, still wearing her jeans and shirt. It would only be a short nap, but she needed some sleep if she was going to be worth anything at all later on when she and Humphreys were to meet at the precinct. She drifted off to the tick of her wall clock and the occasional sound of tires crushing through snow outside on the street.

When a hand touched the top of her thigh, she moaned and warmth was flowing through her body. She heard his purring voice as his body moved up along hers, but she was too comfortable enjoying the touch to open her eyes. She wanted to feel him. His voice was warm and deep as he spoke in her ear, but she couldn’t hear his words. She was entirely too focused on his hands that were gently pushing up under her shirt.

When he latched his mouth to her nipple and pulled it into his mouth, she moaned and arched her back. Then his hand pushed roughly past the waist of her pants, and they were off. Mere seconds had her naked under his body. She could feel his muscular build bearing down on her, and his cock was twitching and moving against her stomach. He pulled at her nipple, roughly sucking and lashing his tongue across the hard peak. And as he pushed her legs out wide, one hanging off the couch and the other pushed hard against the back, she could feel the length of him snug against the slit of her sex.

She was warm and wet against his hard arousal, but she still refused to open her eyes. She craved the touch, but she wasn’t ready to deal with the reality of him again. He nudged against her entry, pushing slightly past her lips to tease and flirt with her body. She flooded with wetness as he nudged and retreated over and over. His voice was far off, and she couldn’t focus on what he was trying to say to her, but as she listened and reveled in the pulsing push of his cock at her entry, his voice neared closer and closer as though moving from a distance to envelope the space around her body.

“Brit!” The sound came from every plane and every direction, spoken with the harsh demand only he could get away with. Her eyes flew open to meet his, and a deep trembling started coursing through her body as his lips parted and she took in his teeth. Fangs. His lips were pulled up in a seductive sneer ready to attack, and she gaped at his open mouth and the threat that it held.

He pushed.

Her body accepted the insistent drive of his cock. It wasn’t slow, and it wasn’t fast. He pushed as though driving steadily to her depths, and he studied her as she stared with shock at the animalistic glint in his eyes. When he was fully imbedded in her body, he paused. His tongue reached out and trailed lightly over the tip of one of his fangs, and he smirked at her watchful and likely terrified expression.

“Submit.” His voice filled the space between their bodies, and she tried to shake her head, but she didn’t really want to, and it fell flat. When the snarl broke from his mouth, it was at a speed unfathomable to her understanding. His lips pulled back barring his fangs before his mouth lunged at her neck, and she felt the teeth sink into her flesh with a crunching sound that mixed with the cry that unleashed itself from her throat. He started pounding and thrusting into her pussy as his mouth pulled at her neck.

Warmth was replaced with a draining coolness that coursed through her body as his penetrations continued ceaselessly. He was rough, forcing her body to comply with his pace and power, but the ache was dull and distant as her body was drained. The cold was creeping into her body as the warmth emptied from her neck. Her hands were on his biceps, but the push she was trying to inflict was weak and losing power by the second. When she felt her life slowly slipping away, she wasn’t sure she cared. Her body felt blissfully secure and controlled. And when his teeth pulled from her neck, it was only to let loose a loud and powerful orgasm as he thrust deep and hard one last time into her body.

“Mine.” She barely heard the utterance as he spoke in her ear. She was dying and there wasn’t enough strength left in her body to focus let alone fight back, and she didn’t want to fight back. She wanted him to own her.

And then her cell phone rang … and she woke up with a start that sent her falling from her couch to the floor, cracking her forehead on the side of her coffee table. She was clothed, she was alive, and aside from now having a knot on her forehead that would without doubt leave a bruise, her body was intact. Wetness had pooled between the lips of her vagina, but she was otherwise exactly as she had been when she laid down.

“Jesus, Sutton. Where the fuck are you. You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago.” Fuck!

“Sorry … sorry. I’m on my way.”

Chapter 11

“I want to know where the man is.” The councilmen watched him, but he was only looking at Langford. Driscoll was part of his family, and it was Langford’s responsibility to keep the man in line. A responsibility he’d thus far failed to uphold. “There’s been another killing, and this time a child. Fifteen. I don’t give a shit what she’s done, we don’t kill children.”

“He’s a predator, Angus, just like you. He goes after drug dealers. That’s his prey of choice. Try to see the bigger picture.” It was Langford, and he was being stupid enough to try to convince Angus that Driscoll was doing nothing wrong. Angus was already not thrilled by Driscoll’s habit of so violently killing his prey, but to kill one so young was unacceptable. He didn’t give a shit if she’d been dealing drugs or not. He didn’t want to protect a monster who was capable of the things Driscoll was capable of, and at the moment, he was blaming Langford.

“I want to know where the man is. I’m not going to ask again.” His focus remained on Langford. Truman was by his side, and even Ember had come to the council meeting today. As a new vampire, she was passionate about the respect of humans, and as a child-welfare advocate for the city, she was jealously protective of children. She had never even hunted and refused to do so. She took blood from her husband, and while she rarely sat in on council affairs with Truman, she had her own concerns on this matter. Dr. Quentin Bremmer, the newest council member, was there as well. He was hardly new to council affairs, but his interest had always been on research and medicine in the past. With the death of his former clan head, he’d been put in the position of filling his family’s role. However, he was given all the freedom he needed for his own pursuits, and he was indispensible to their race in Angus’ opinion. Blakely was present too. He was a quiet and contemplative vampire who was older even than Angus. The majority of his family resided further south, and while Blakely was present when he needed to be, he spent a good deal of time in Charlotte where his larger family home was located.

Langford shook his head as he looked away from Angus. He wanted to punch the man. He’d never liked him. Found him to be a simpering, spineless man, not the least capable of leading his family. They were only a group of ten in Boston with a few smaller clans spread out among the eastern region. But the man was as incapable as any he’d met. When their former council leader, Sylvan, had been in control of the council, Langford’s weakness had mattered little, but now, Angus expected the councilmen to do their jobs effectively, and he was responsible for making sure they did.

“I don’t know where he is.” His eyes said he was lying, or if not lying, at least not being completely honest. Angus wasn’t surprised. If he could get his hands on Driscoll, he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t end the vampire and be done with it. It’s what Sylvan would have done, but then … Sylvan would have killed Brit too just to be sure.

“Well I suggest you find him and fast.” He was bellowing, and Ember was watching him silently with wide eyes. He was angry. He didn’t want this responsibility. This man didn’t deserve his protection, and it wasn’t going to help things with Brit either. His relationship with Brit, if it could be called that, wasn’t a legitimate excuse for wanting to be done with Driscoll, but it was his reason. He was sick and damn tired of Driscoll being a part of their every interaction. “I want to speak to him, and if I find out you’re lying about where he is, you’ll suffer along with him for it. This behavior won’t be tolerated. And if I have to take your man out to protect our privacy and the safety of more inappropriate victims, I will.”

Langford avoided his eyes and said nothing. When Blakely and Langford left, Bremmer, Truman, and Ember stuck around.

“I think we need to consider Driscoll could be an addict.” It was Bremmer speaking. “If he’s using blood to get high, it would explain the overzealous kills.”

“He’s targeting dealers, not addicts. Dealers may not be clean, but they’re not strung out either. If he was an addict, he’d be going after other addicts, not the dealers.” What Bremmer was saying was valid, but it didn’t add up to what he’d been told of Driscoll’s hunting habits. Then again, he’d been told by Langford, and how much did he trust that man?

Ember must have read his mind. “Do you know that for certain? I mean, fifteen…” She was shaking her head. “That’s not really drug-dealer material. I’ve seen plenty of teenagers messed up in drugs, but not dealing, at least not on any level that would warrant being a threat or a pariah. It takes organization, maturity even to some extent.” He was nodding his agreement.

“I think you need to look at who these victims were a bit closer. She’s a good detective, Angus. Let her do her job. We can always step in and terminate him later, once you’ve given her a chance to find him for us.” Truman finished the thought that was already circulating in his mind.

“And besides, you’ll likely get a lot further with her if you’re working together rather than constantly trying to stand in her way. I’m guessing that’s what you want, considering you’re in love with her…” Ember, and she was smirking at him.

“I’m not in love with anyone, Em. Stop being a sappy romantic. Love is for you and Truman, not a logical vamp like me.” But even as he said it, a trill of longing ran through his body. He wanted to see her. It had only been twenty-four hours since she’d left him, but she’d left him long before he was ready to see her go. And a plan hatched in his mind. He may not be able to get Langford on his side, but being the chairman of the council did grant him a few rights over the different families, and he intended to execute those powers now.

* * * *

When she and her partner met him in the lobby of her precinct, the desire came back in full force. She looked tired, but incredible—aside from a small knot of bruised skin on her forehead. When she saw him looking, the blush already creeping into her cheeks turned scarlet and she touched the knot. She couldn’t hold his gaze, and as she walked toward him, she took a deep and steadying breath as she studied the floor. The moment she was close enough to him, he inhaled. She smelled of the subtle scent of her cum, and the only thing missing was his own mixed with it. Wonder what she’d done to get so turned-on… Her blush wasn’t fading quickly, and he was guessing he most definitely had something to do with this arousal, even if he hadn’t actually been a part of it. Perhaps the knot on the head too…

Her partner, on the other hand, reeked. Angus stayed close to her body as they moved down the hall to an interview room. He inhaled her delicious scent, trying his utmost to escape her partner’s stench. When her partner stopped to speak to a uniformed officer, he leaned quickly to her ear and spoke quietly for only her to hear. “What’s got you so flushed and turned-on, Brit?”

She turned slightly to him, shaking her head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He chuckled quietly as they continued to the room, but not before whispering quickly into her ear, “You smell delicious.”

“If you waste my time, you’ll regret it.” The partner, Humphreys, had caught back up to them and was trying to intimidate him.

“I’m sorry, and who are you?” Angus was smiling at the fat, smelly man, who glared back.

“This is my partner, Detective Humphreys. And we really are busy, so if you have something to say, get on with it.” She was trying for control, just as always, but she couldn’t hide her want from him.

“I can get you access to his residence.”

“What makes you think we can’t do that on our own?” Brit was challenging him. What else was new? But the moment he shifted his focus from her partner to her, the blush reinvigorated and she looked away. Well he had definitely left his mark on her. His cock was pulsing just seeing her so flushed and embarrassed in front of him.

“Because you’d have done it already. You can’t access his family’s building without cause, and since you can’t verify that he actually lives there, I’m guessing you’re at a dead end in that regard. I’ll get you whatever verification you need, so you can execute an arrest warrant. I doubt you’ll find him there, but it will get you into his apartment. I’m guessing all you really need is a statement from someone like me indicating he resides there. That along with your witness statement from last night…”

“How do you know about that?” She eyed him suspiciously.

“I have my ways. As I was saying, along with the witness statement, you should have no problem getting the arrest warrant you need to enter his residence, and I’m happy to tell you where he resides.”

“Well that’s a change,” she muttered.

He was watching Brit, ignoring the man. Her eyes flashed with a look of excitement that she couldn’t stifle. Driscoll had no known address that she’d been able to prove. But Angus knew full well he had a residence in his family’s building. Because Brit couldn’t prove it, she would never be able to execute an arrest warrant to enter his residence on her own. She needed only a statement from him to see it done. And he was prepared to help her … for once.

She and Humphreys exchanged a look, but she glanced back at him quickly. Her skin was still flushed, and she was so incredibly cute wearing her well-worn boot-cut jeans and perfectly fitted, gray, long-sleeve, jersey-knit shirt with a bold Kelly green three-quarter-length sleeve cardigan. Her gray shirt showed past the shorter cuff of her green cardigan, and she paired the outfit with a pair of black patent-leather Mary Jane clogs with gray-and-black striped socks. She looked stunning. She couldn’t hide how very feminine and stylish she was. It was a subtle and easy style, but she was so very womanly and lovely in this world of masculine dominance and stark, boring surroundings. She stuck out like a sore thumb in this place, and he could understand easily why she’d adopted such an intense attitude. Of course, her past didn’t help any on that account either.

He watched her and continued to ignore Humphreys. He had a feeling Humphreys was not going to be his favorite person in the world, and he was far more interested in looking at Brit. Her blush appeared to be permanently affixed to her cheeks, and he reveled in her scent and what must lie behind it. He’d not stopped thinking about her since he’d finally fucked her, and he had no idea when he’d be able to make that happen again, but the thought had started to take over and consume his mind.

She watched as he handwrote a witness statement, stating that Driscoll DeMarco did indeed live in the building owned by his family. He was stabbing Langford in the back and enjoying every moment of it. Brit eyed him suspiciously as he wrote. She, without doubt, had her reservations as to why he was suddenly intent on helping her. He’d entered her life as a witness, and one that taught her quickly he was not to be trusted. Since that time, he’d given her every reason to earn that distrust. Undoing that damage was going to be difficult, but his conscience was finally breathing a sigh of relief at being on her side. He didn’t know for certain he had just reason to end Driscoll, but he was holding out little hope the man was a virtuous vampire or operating within their boundaries, and he was hoping Brit could help him figure that out.

When he set the pen down, she glanced at him and mumbled a quiet thanks. Humphreys pushed the form to Brit as he started to heave his oversize body from the too-small chair he’d been sitting on. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m calling it a day. I didn’t get to sleep all afternoon and forget to come back to work like you.” He glared accusingly at Brit. Hmm. And he thought perhaps he finally understood the incredible scent on her body. They walked with Humphreys to the corridor, and he watched the blush of Brit’s cheeks reinvigorate at Humphreys’ accusation.

When Humphreys was out of earshot, he reached to lightly caress the back of her arm while leaning down to her ear. “Were you dreaming of me, Brit? Is that why you looked like I’d just fucked your brains out when I arrived earlier?” That earned him a swift but controlled elbow to the gut, before she rounded on him.

“I don’t know why you’re so intent on suddenly helping me…”

“Detective Sutton!” The voice was far off but getting closer.

“But I don’t believe for even one second…” Now Humphreys had stopped and was eyeing them wearily.

“Detective Sutton!” Closer still, and a secretary by the look of it.

“Not now!” She shouted at the nearing woman as she shuffled up the hallway toward them. And her focus returned quickly to his. “That you have any intention of actually being generous with what you know!” And she was glaring, near fury as she stared at him.

“Detective, please!”

“What!” Brit shouted at the poor woman, transferring her fury to the secretary that had finally approached them.

She was huffing and puffing as she came to a stop and swallowed hard before she finally managed to open her mouth to speak. “It’s … it’s your mother…”

“Let me guess, arrested again. Tell her to call someone else for bail money this time!” Her voice was only marginally quieter, and she turned her glare back to Angus while he watched her calmly.

“She’s in the hospital, Detective. Overdose.” Brit’s breath left her in a rush that came out as a loud sigh. She reached for the wall to her side, and her gaze finally dropped from his. The flush was suddenly gone from her cheeks, and she looked pale and shocked. “The hospital called here. Said they’d left a few messages on your home phone. She’s been at Massachusetts General for a few days now. I’m sorry…”

The woman made her way hastily back up the corridor as Brit kept her hold on the wall. Her face was slack and emotionless, but it was hiding pain—deep and shattering pain. He wanted to touch her. He wanted to reach out to her and comfort her. It felt oddly like he was sharing her pain. He had no right or ownership of it as she did, but he hurt for her. His heart was lurching at the sight of her pain, and it felt like a physical hurt in his gut.

“Uh … I’ll take the statement. I’ll call you when we have an arrest warrant.” Humphreys was eyeing her with an expression that looked almost sympathetic, but Brit was staring beyond them both. He glanced to her hands and saw her fingers trembling. Humphreys left after one final look to Brit, and she pushed herself from the wall.

“Brit…” She held up her finger in front of his face to silence him as she pushed past him and walked down the hall. She looked more angry than distressed, but he knew it was just her reaction. She was scared. He followed her. He gave her the distance she needed, wanted, but he stayed close. She exited the building, but he caught up to her before she reached her car. “I’ll drive you.” He didn’t expect her to agree outright, and as she shook her head, he grabbed the back of her arm and stopped her firmly.

She paused in place, but refused to turn and look at him. He leaned to her ear from behind her body. “I said I’ll drive you. You’re in no shape to drive, and I’m not going to let you take off in your car when you’re this upset.”

“Fuck you. I’m not upset, and I sure as hell don’t need your help.” Her head was turned toward him slightly as she muttered, and she still refused to face him. But he held his grip on her arm.

“There’s nothing wrong with needing help, Brit.” She pulled, but he pulled back. He pulled her body back tight to his, and clasped his free hand on her hip, feeling the protrusion of her hip bone against his fingers. She whimpered, but she didn’t fight it. When he leaned to her ear again, he spoke quiet, soothing words in her ear. “Let me help you, Brit.” And as he spoke the words, her head tilted toward him. She sank against his body as he moved his hand from her hip to the front of her abdomen. He splayed his fingers out on her stomach, claiming his place on her body. He released his hold on her arm and moved his other hand to her neck, running down the side of her neck to her shoulder to hold her firmly.

When he brushed a gentle kiss on the side of her temple where the knot was bruising more by the second, she didn’t pull away. She was melting into his body just as he wanted her too. He enjoyed her fleeting softness more than he cared to admit. He thrilled at being the one to support her when her strength failed. She was so exceptionally strong and controlled, but she wasn’t infallible, and he yearned to be the one she could submit to when she needed it.

He led her by the arm to his SUV and helped her climb into the passenger seat. When he started the car and pulled out into traffic, he reached for her hand. She froze in place and glanced at him. She looked startled, but after a moment, she pushed past it and relaxed. He held her hand clasped strongly in his the entire ride to the hospital. Her thoughts were off in some distant place. She was lost in her mind, feeling pain he couldn’t possibly understand, and he felt more helpless than he’d felt in more centuries than he could recall. Was this what it felt like to give a shit? If it was, he couldn’t say he was fan. But he also couldn’t say it wasn’t worth it.

When they arrived, he walked behind her shoulder without touching her. She said nothing to him, and he didn’t want to intrude on this part of her life. He wanted to see it, but he felt out of his depth. Angus’ own family was something he lost the moment he transitioned. He had come from a wealthy Irish family, one of a handful of leading aristocratic families during that period five centuries before, and he’d had no place with them once he became immortal. He left everyone of them behind to age and die without ever looking back. His family had been distant and cold to him even when he was living, a byproduct of being consumed with wealth and power. It had been an easy tie to sever. But he was always intrigued by the strong bond of family that he’d never experienced, even those fraught with pain and sadness such as Brit’s.

She stopped and spoke with an intake nurse who pointed her in the right direction, and as they rode up in an elevator to the floor her mother had been moved to after spending time in the ER, she said nothing. She stared at the floor, and he watched her. She was more than unreadable at the moment, so he just studied her, trying to get a handle on what she was experiencing.

As they exited the elevator, she stopped and spoke to him. “You don’t have to stay.” She still wasn’t looking at him.

“I drove you. I’ll wait for you.” She looked at him quickly before she turned and walked down the hall toward her mother’s room. He caught sight of the woman in the hospital bed as Brit entered her room, but he stayed out in the hall, taking a place on the bank of chairs just outside.

He’d only caught a quick glimpse of the woman, but it was enough to imprint the image in his mind. Brit looked like her mother, but where her mother looked aged and hardened, Brit was still youthful and healthy. Her mother’s skin looked dusky and as though it’d had the subcutaneous fat sucked out of it, leaving only a wrinkly, shriveled-up husk of a body. And it wasn’t aging either. There was a difference between healthy aging wrinkles, and the sickly pallor of someone who’d treated their body as though it was a punching bag. Her mother couldn’t be more than fifty or so, but she looked far older. Her hair was limp and frizzy, and her eyes sunken into her skull. It was a disturbing thing to see someone who looked so much like Brit but so destroyed and sick. It made it quite easy, in fact, to imagine Brit aging and sickening over time, and it struck his gut like a fist to consider it.

How could any of his kind ever consider following a human through life to their death? Truman would have easily done so for Ember, but it was a maddening thought. Brit was too stunning and vibrant to watch this happen to. When Brit suddenly emerged, he stood quickly. She’d only been with her mother for five or ten minutes at most, and now she stood ready to leave. Her face was emotionless and slack, completely unreadable.

He followed her again as they left and back out to his car. And when he pulled into traffic, she got lost in her mind as she stared out the window again. He knew where she lived, but he let her give him directions in a flat, monotonous tone, and after he pulled up to her townhouse, he put the car in park. She didn’t immediately move but stared out the front window for a moment. When she turned to him, she met his eyes for the first time in longer than he could recall. But it was he who looked away. All he could see was her mother looking back; Brit’s own mortality was staring him in the face, and he despised it. She mumbled her thanks before opening the door and stepping from the car.

He watched her walk to her door, desiring her beauty, but hating how fragile she was. He knew he was on a precipice and he didn’t like it. This was Truman’s type of battle, not his. Caring wasn’t an option. Going after her meant entirely more than he was ready to deal with. It meant he gave a shit and was willing to set himself up for losing her. Why the hell would anyone do that to themselves? He shook his head, muttered to himself, and tightened his grip on the steering wheel as he watched her mount her steps to the door. His jaw was tight and painfully clenched. Why couldn’t he just fuck her and call it a day? Why couldn’t it be enough? He didn’t want to care that she was human and delicate. He didn’t want to care at all. And muttering a final fuck! to the empty space around him, he threw his car into gear and drove away. He was no Truman.

Chapter 12

When the warmth of her townhouse enveloped her body, she suddenly felt exhausted and ready to escape into a deep sleep. It wasn’t the first time her mother had OD’d, but it was the first time she’d fallen into a coma for two days as a result. Watching someone die in front of you at their own choosing was maddening. She wanted to slap the woman, yell at her, but she knew it would do no good. She’d yelled plenty at the woman in her life; it never did any good. Brit had just never been important enough for her to change. She knew that wasn’t really true. She knew addiction had a hold on her that took that decision out of her mother’s hands, but it didn’t matter. It had always hurt, regardless of the battle her mother fought.

She wasn’t happy to see Angus go. She wasn’t sure why, especially after the dream she’d had of him and their time at the precinct after. But he’d given her something she’d needed, something no one had given her before. Strength. Brit always found her own. It was usually contrived to some degree, but she forced her body forward when terror gripped her heart, but not on this day. This day he’d given her the support she’d needed. It was silent, unasked for, but powerful. And the key behind it was that she’d let him. Why had she let him?

She poured herself a glass of wine before tackling the answering machine. Oddly, she was actually afraid to listen to the messages. She knew what was on there, but … it was like facing a monster, standing at the stupid old box that she’d failed to replace with voice mail. She found it far too easy to ignore the damn thing, and when she pushed the Play button, she gulped down a big swig of wine.

“This message is for Brit Sutton. Please call Massachusetts General. It is regarding a patient Jackie Sutton.” Beep.

“This is Massachusetts General again, Ms. Sutton. Please return out call as soon as possible.” Beep.

“Ms. Sutton, it is very important that you call us regarding your mother.” She advanced through that one on her own. Beep.

“Brit … Brit … if you’re there will you please pick up. I’m in the hospital. I … uh … guess I’ll try you later…” Her mother’s voice, weak after two days in a coma. Beep.

Brit sank to the floor and cried. She held her glass in her hand, sitting on the kitchen floor like a kid ready to the throw a temper tantrum. She was being pathetic, but she didn’t care. She was a lousy daughter. She was a lousy daughter, and her mother was a lousy mother. She took another big swig of wine as she sniffled and felt sorry for herself. Who the hell was she to think she could handle this life. Maybe she just wasn’t strong enough to deal with it all. She felt weak; she felt like an imposter; she felt as though she was pretending to be an adult in a job that required responsibility and control, but she had none of it. She was a fraud.

When there was a knock on her door, she ignored it for a moment. But then thinking of her answering machine and just what can happen when she ignored the world around her, she climbed from the floor and stumbled to the door. She pulled it open to the cold winter night outside and gasped. He was there in front of her.

Her face was streaked with dry tears that left her cheeks feeling as though they were cracking when her face scrunched up and her forehead wrinkled. He swiftly pulled her into his arms and back into her home, closing the door behind him. He shushed her as she cried into his neck, and he carried her to her bedroom, sitting with her in his lap as he pulled the bedding back. He held her and let her cry against him, stroking the skin on the back of her neck, and she allowed it. She allowed all of it. She allowed her tears to fall in front of a man. She allowed him to hear her quiet sobs, and she allowed him to see just how vulnerable she really was.

When her tears stopped and her cheeks had dried again, he laid her gently on the soft bedding. He sat on the side of her bed looking down at her. His eyes were their bright blue and his expression serious and concerned. He stroked her cheek, leaning to her mouth and kissing her. He wasn’t the monster she’d dreamed of at all.

He pulled her to sit up and peeled the cardigan down her arms and off her body. He then lifted her shirt over her head and reached to unhook her bra, sliding it down and off her arms. His eyes zoned in on her nipples that were hardening by the millisecond. His jaw clenched and his nostrils flared as he looked at her body. “Lie back.” His voice sounded husky as he spoke, and when she was lying against the pillows behind her again, he reached for the button of her jeans. Once the button was undone and the zipper lowered, he hooked his fingers under the waist of her pants and underwear, and worked both down her hips.

He dropped his mouth to her stomach as he pulled her pants down, and he kissed trails of gentle kisses across her lower belly. He pulled back from her body as he pulled the pants from her legs and peeled her socks from her feet, tossing her clothes to the floor. When he stood, he started undressing himself as she watched. She watched as every last button of his perfectly tailored shirt was undone. And as he undid the buttons at the wrist, she stared at his muscular stomach that was tight and hard. His physique was impressive, and she could feel wetness spreading between her legs at the sight of him.

When he shrugged out of his shirt, he let it fall to the floor, and his hands moved to the waist of his straight front slacks that were just as impeccably tailored as his shirt. Every movement he made was controlled and confident, and as his pants and underwear were dropped to the floor, she gasped. He was incredible. She’d thought so the first time she’d seen him naked in front of her, but it still took her breath away. He was larger than any man she’d been with by a long shot, though there were admittedly few to compare him to. His breadth was intimidating, and she’d felt the soreness his size had left after their first time together.

Soreness or not, she was ready for him. He sat casually at her hip, ignoring the jutting length of his cock that she couldn’t seem to look away from. He watched her impassively as he trailed his fingers from her chin down to her chest. He let the tips of his fingers lightly run over her skin to one of her nipples. He rounded the hardened peak before clamping it between two fingers. The pressure was light, but as he held it, he pulled her nipple from her body and clamped down hard before quickly releasing the intense pressure he’d inflicted. He dropped his mouth to her sensitive nipple, pulling it gently with his lips as he soothed the slight soreness with his tongue.

He pulled back from her body and let his fingers wander lower on her body. She watched, mesmerized at just how good he was at this. Sex had always been a fairly anticlimactic experience that always left her disappointed. But every touch from the first time his mouth claimed her breast at the fundraiser to the first time he’d fucked her, she’d been impressed—definitely nothing anticlimactic about it.

Brit kept herself clean-shaven. She hated having unruly pubic hair, and she didn’t have the patience for shaving pubic hair patches that ended looking more like pubic topiaries than anything sexy in her opinion, so she kept it shaved down to nothing, and she was glad at least that she’d kept up on the lawn care lately. She only just shaved after arriving home from his place the night before, and as he glided his hand over the silken smooth skin of her mound, she inhaled a deep and steadying breath.

Every stress, worry, disappointment of the day was fading away, being brushed from her mind by his wandering fingers. He was still sitting at her side, watching the movement of his fingers as they explored her body. His eyes were seductive and calm, but as he slipped a finger down the wet slit of her sex, he hissed a quick breath and his cock flexed. He moved his other hand to his rigid shaft and stroked up the length of his arousal. His nostrils were flaring again, and he stroked through her wetness.

Her legs were closed, so his finger didn’t make it far, but he lifted the wetness to his lips and sucked it quickly from his skin. “God, I’m going to enjoy this.” His voice was quiet and husky as he spoke, and when his gaze flashed to hers, his eyes were smoldering in their cool heat. “Open your legs.” It was an intense order that would normally leave her refusing just on principle, but not with him—not right now. She parted her legs wide, and he grabbed her by the inside of the closest thigh to his body and pulled her leg even wider. He was sitting at her waist, and her thigh was snug against his bottom as he faced her.

He reached for her sex again. Her lips were open to his wandering fingers that stroked over the smooth sensitive skin of the inside of her lips. He slowly pressed one finger into her entry. He watched as his finger slowly sank to his knuckle, and then he equally slowly pulled it back out from her body. When he pressed back in with two fingers, his focus returned to her eyes. She was trembling and she fought to look at him as she felt the invasion of his two masculine, long fingers. When his fingers were once again imbedded fully in her body, he reached with his free hand to her hand that was closest to his body, guiding it down to his cock. She slowly stroked up his length, and his hand covered hers and squeezed her hand tight to his shaft as she rubbed.

He groaned as her hand moved against his rigid cock, and he used it to stroke up and down his length, keeping his hand clamped down to cover hers. His other hand had stilled with his fingers still buried to their knuckles in her pussy. But as he released his grip on her hand, his other started stroking in and out of her body. The sound of wet on wet took over the room interrupted only with their occasional moans or gasps when a particularly nice stroke wrenched it from their throats.

As a dribble of precum escaped the slit in his cockhead, he reached to wipe it away before pushing his glistening finger into her mouth. He tasted of iron and salt, and as she sucked his taste from his finger, his thrusting fingers that still worked her tight sheath slowly stopped, leaving her just on the cusp of orgasm. She sighed as he pulled his finger from her mouth, and he smirked at the disappointed look on her face.

He pulled her hand from its grasp on his penis before he moved to hover over her body. He leaned to her mouth, sliding his tongue between her lips and covering her lips with his. He touched the smooth surface of the inside of her mouth as he explored. And when he broke from her lips after only a minute, he moved down her body, kneeling between her legs and pushing her legs out as wide as they’d go. He pushed his groin to hers, and moving his hand to his cock, he used the head to rub and excite the tight nub of her clitoris. It caused a deep groan to emanate from her gut as he stroked her clit over and over and over again, but when he pulled back from her body and lowered his body to lie between her legs, her core clenched in waiting anticipation of his mouth. He’d mentioned it before, and she’d thought of it endlessly since.

He used his thumbs to part the length of her lips, revealing her entire sex to him and pulling the hood of her clit back to expose it further. He leaned slowly down and flicked her clitoris with his tongue before pulling it into his mouth and releasing it. He did this over and over as though kissing and releasing, but as her panting increased, his kiss lengthened and soon he was holding her clit between his lips, licking and flicking it with his tongue as his mouth sucked. He studied her eyes as his mouth worked, and she watched with clenching stomach muscles as his cheeks hollowed at the suction before releasing again.

She cried out loudly when he finally released the building tension in her groin with one final strong sucking kiss to her swollen nub. She twisted the sheets in her hand as he held the suction and her body trembled through her orgasm. When the tremble turned to shuttering spasms, he released his hold on her clit and pulled back to watch her body twitch and clench as the pulsing pleasure worked through her.

He climbed up her body, letting his cock nestle between the lips of her vagina. He was watching her eyes, waiting patiently for her to make the next move. She drew a deep breath. “We don’t need to use any protection, do we?” It came out more as an accusation than a question, but she was looking for some sort of confirmation of what she felt in her gut but failed to explain in rational terms. He shook his head slowly, studying her eyes. He looked serious as though he didn’t trust that she wouldn’t push him away with this admission. She wasn’t entirely sure what this admission actually meant, except that he wasn’t normal, not in the human sense of the word. But she wasn’t willing to think of that further at the moment. He was pushing her pain away, and she was going to let him. If it meant she was a lunatic, she’d deal with that later.

She reached for his lips to push them up and see just how true her dream might have been. She wasn’t sure she wanted to see or that she’d even believe if she did see … but she didn’t get the chance. He pulled back from her reach and shook his head tersely. He glared at her, waiting for her to react. He gave up at her startled and wide eyes, and he whispered on a husky voice as he leaned to her ear. “I’m just a man, Brit.”

“You’re something far more than that.”

He smirked slightly, and when he responded, his diction was soft enough that it kept his lips from showing her what she was terrified to see. “Thank you for not saying less. Now I promised gentle, so relax.” Then leaning to her ear, he spoke quietly as he pushed his penis past her lips into the warm and wet passage that clenched around his stretching and invasive penetration. “You tasted so fucking delicious, Brit. I’ve wanted that since the first time I met you.” His cock moved deeper and deeper as his words were spoken, and she could feel her muscles tightening around him. He groaned every time her muscles spasmed until he was fully within her body. When he pulled from her body, he knelt up between her legs, wedging his knees under her thighs. He stayed upright as he guided himself back into her body, and then pinning her thighs in place with a hand to the inside of each, he started thrusting.

His pace was slow, and he watched every penetration as he knelt between her legs. All the power and vigor were reined in, and he kept his movements controlled and steady as he pushed and pulled. His eyes were glued to the joining of their bodies as he rolled his hips seductively into hers, and with every push, she tightened her muscles down around him. That move was met with a groan each and every time, and she watched as his stomach muscles tightened in response to her clenching sheath.

When he leaned back over her body with a deep, painful thrust, he grunted in her ear. “God woman, you’re going to kill me.” But his chuckle was all pleasure. He stilled deep inside her body and held her eyes. “Tighten on my cock. You have incredible muscles, and I want to feel them on me.” She stared at him, afraid to even move. She was almost embarrassed to breathe at his words, but he coaxed her further. “Now, Brit. I’m not going to move until you give me what I want. I know you know how.”

She tightened her muscles, clenching as hard as she could. His eyes bulged for a moment as he let out a groan of pleasure. “Oh fuck, that’s good. Again.” She bore down hard on his length that throbbed inside her pussy, and another moan took over his throat. “Again.” His voice was husky with need, and the moment she clenched he was in heaven once more. He kept repeating again every time he was ready for more and before long his stomach muscles were rippling against hers.

“I want to fuck you hard. I know I said gentle, but I want more. Let me.” She nodded once as he pulled from her body, and when he slammed back into her, it was her turn to unleash a loud guttural groan, and he set a new pace. He reached to the headboard of her bed and he jolted their bodies forward with each deep thrust that left her insides aching. His movements were so completely harsh, but still controlled perfectly. He wouldn’t hurt her. He’d push her to her limit, but she didn’t worry for a moment that it would be too much. There was a bizarre and unexplained trust to it that left her confused but too intoxicated by his movements to care.

When she came again, he let his own orgasm release the tension that had been building from their first touch. He released his cum within her body, and as he slowly pulled from her, he used his hand to stroke and milk every last bit of it from his body and into hers before finally collapsing at her side and pulling her into his arms.

When Brit spoke, she was almost shocked to hear her voice. “Why won’t you let me see your teeth?” Did she really want to start an argument right now? But he chuckled.

“I have no problem letting you see my teeth … now…”

“Now?” But she took the opportunity. She pulled herself up to her elbow to look down at him, and he watched her steadily. She reached to his lip, expecting him to stop her, but he didn’t. She lifted the side of his lip and saw teeth, just teeth—perfectly white and straight. Enviable by any account, but teeth nevertheless. When she touched the cuspid tooth that had only the slightest point that could have easily been anyone’s tooth, he watched her.

She gave up and snuggled down against his side, and he held her tight to his body. “Angus is a strange name for an American.” She let her thought drift out of her mouth.

“I was born and raised in Ireland.”

“But you don’t have an accent.”

“I lost it long ago.” His words were quiet. He knew she was delving for information, and she couldn’t tell if it upset him or not, but it wasn’t Brit’s habit to worry about such things, and that was a habit not easily broken—even by him.

“How long ago?”

He sighed. He was definitely on to her. “Stop, Brit.” She wasn’t sure why she actually listened to him, she rarely listened to anyone when they told her what to do, but she listened to him, and she let it go. For the time being.

It was late, she was exhausted, and the moment she closed her eyes, she drifted away.

*

He gave her little rest before he woke her. She was lying on her stomach, and he hovered over her with a knee at each hip. He started with his lips slowly brushing over the soft skin of her shoulder. She didn’t let him get far. “I need to shower first. I’m gross…” Her voice was sleepy.

“No. You smell like my cum. You smell like your cum. And personally, I think it smells incredible.” He returned to her shoulder, moving slowly down her back. Her bottom was beautiful and pale; the cheeks were round and firm. He sucked powerful kisses over her pale skin that left pink circles as he moved. They faded as he moved from one spot to the next, and when he was finished with her bottom, he pushed his knees between her knees, forcing her to open her thighs. He could see her beautiful pink lips at the junction of her thighs, and her lips were parted slightly.

He leaned back up over her body bracing himself on one elbow as he moved his mouth to her ear. And as he gently entered her pussy with two fingers, he spoke. “Is this what you thought was so gross? ” He was pushing and swirling his fingers through the wetness, and she gasped at his words. When he knelt back between her knees, he continued to work his fingers in and out as his cock flexed and danced between his legs. The last time he pulled his fingers from her body, he ran the wetness over his hard length, leaving it glistening and slippery.

After he pulled her up to her knees, he slid his knees between hers and then spread them out to lower her sex until it was hovering just above the bed. He intended to be gentle this time, but then, he’d intended to be gentle last time too. He pushed the head of his cock into her entry, watching his dick glide through the wetness, and he penetrated slowly as he enjoyed the sight of every last inch of his length disappearing into her body. When he reached her depths, she groaned and pulled forward slightly.

He started pushing and pulling, fighting his body to be slow and easy on her, but she started forcing her bottom toward him, meeting his gentle thrusts. He could see her tightly puckered anus, and he stroked slowly over it with a finger still wet from her body. She paused for only a moment before she relaxed to the touch. He entered her bottom with the tip of his middle finger, watching her bury her head in the sheets of her bed. He kept stroking his cock into her body, and she kept pushing back to him even though it sank his finger marginally deeper into her bottom. When he clutched her waist and stilled her body, he thrust deep into her vagina and held his depth there as well. She was panting, and when she felt his finger sink further and further into the hot, tight passage of her rectum, she cried out loudly, and clenched down tight. The muscles clamped down tight on his cock as well as his finger, and he let go of her waist to rub her lower back.

“Relax, sweetie.” He was waiting to feel the muscles relax around him before he moved, and as he rubbed the tension in her lower back, she did. He pushed deeper into her bottom before pulling out again. “More?” He watched her head that was still buried in her sheets. He could see the glistening puckered hole and his finger was itching to enter her again, but he was waiting. She nodded into the bedding. “Say it.”

“Yes.” He could barely hear the words spoken into the sheets over the furious pounding of her heart, but she’d said it.

He thrust a shallow penetration, feeling his finger move against the top of his cock through the thin skin that separated her channels. He eased in further and further, and this time, she stayed relaxed against the invasion. When he started thrusting in and out, she started moaning. He was still unmoving inside her vagina, and after tormenting her bottom for a while, he started alternating the thrust of his finger with the thrust of his cock. Her moans intensified. She was getting close, and so was he. He pulled his finger from her anus before leaning over her body to cover it with his. He laced his fingers with hers and he rolled his hips against her bottom. Her vagina was clenching around him harshly as her panting and moaning increased.

His mouth was at her neck, and his teeth were fully and painfully protracted into his mouth, begging to bite. He wouldn’t, but it didn’t mean his body wouldn’t want to. Instead, he nuzzled against her neck as he pushed into her pussy. They came together, and he gripped down hard on her hands as he pushed to her depths one final time, spilling his cum into her body again. She was left panting and gasping as she cried out through her release. Fuck he liked her just a bit too much.

When he withdrew from her body, she hissed, and rolled to her back. He stood and held his hand out for her. She took it, and he led her to the bathroom where he started a bath and gave her privacy to use the toilet before joining her in the warmth of the water. He held her body as they soaked away the cum and heated scent of their coupling. He was far too content and comfortable with her in his arms.

Angus was the fuck-and-forget kind. He’d not bothered to bed a human woman since his transition because he didn’t want to run the risk of becoming entangled with a human. And he’d held every female of his kind at arm’s length, moving on quickly after a time or two. He’d never had interest in a partner, not that he had any disdain for relationships. But eternity was a long time to be with one woman. Then again, eternity was a damn long time to be without this one.

He left her sleeping, clean and smelling of the subtle body wash he associated with her scent. She looked peaceful and content when she slept. She looked far younger in this peace than she looked when she was awake with the weight of the world on her shoulders. The moment he stepped from her house into the cold of the early morning, he missed the feel of her warmth. A slow working panic was setting into his soul. She was going to be difficult to let go.

Chapter 13

“I’m Detective Sutton; this is Detective Humphreys. We have an arrest warrant for Driscoll DeMarco in unit 2A of this building. Please stand aside.”

The man glared at her, but stayed silent. He was one of them. Whatever that meant. He was like Angus and the beautiful couple from his building—pale and pristine, but she didn’t like this one, not like she was drawn to Angus. He stared at her hungrily or was it angrily. He looked as though he wanted her dead, and she returned his cold, dead stare with an impassive one.

“I’m Langford, and I own this building. What is this about?”

“Please stand aside, Mr. Langford. We have an arrest warrant to exercise, and we’ll try not to take up too much of your time.”

“Well he’s not here. He doesn’t live here. I’ve already told you that. And don’t you need a search warrant to enter?

“Not when I have an arrest warrant. Mr. DeMarco is wanted in connection to a crime, and we have a witness statement indicating he resides in this building. Now I’m not to ask you again. Step aside, Mr. Langford.”

His jaw clenched as he stepped out of her way, and she and Humphreys passed into the building. It was another stunning old building, much like the one Angus lived in, but not quite of the same caliber. They had to break the door to enter after knocking incessantly for a few minutes. She didn’t expect to find him there—that would be entirely too easy. But the arrest warrant allowed them to get in, and if there was any visible evidence of a crime, they’d be able to collect it and get a search warrant to further search his residence.

When they entered the residence, it was nice—incredibly nice, but it was trashed. They had a team with them to clear the apartment, but it became evident quickly that it was deserted.

When it was all said and done, they found bloody clothing they were able to bag as evidence and that would pave the way to a search warrant. The kitchen was oddly empty, aside from being as filthy as the rest of the residence. Brit was happy with the bloody clothing. There were multiple pieces of clothing, and she hoped she’d get multiple DNA hits from the six victims to link them all back to DeMarco. But that would take time. The crime lab was backlogged, and there was nothing to be done but wait.

On the quiet ride back to the precinct with Humphreys, she stared out the window. It had been three days since she had seen her mother in the hospital or spoken to Angus. Her mother was being released today, and Brit had offered to pick up some groceries and drive her home. She was dreading it. She was busy on the case, and she didn’t have time for it, but she was fighting the guilt after managing to miss the fact that her mother was in the hospital for two days.

As the buildings passed, she zoned out on the case. Six victims meant a serial, but it didn’t feel like a serial, and whatever kind of monster he was didn’t lend to it either. There was little real consistency in the victims aside from their lifestyle. He might kill in the same manner; the ME’s report said as much, but there was nothing ritualistic about it. He was hunting. That made sense to her rationale, though there was no way to discuss that with the man sitting beside her. But, it could throw the entire investigation off if they were searching for a serial. The only common thread between the victims was their involvement in drugs and street life. But aside from that, what did they have to go on?

She left early in the afternoon as Humphreys glared at her. She wanted to get the groceries before picking her mother up at the hospital, and when she finally managed to get the woman home, her mother sacked out on her coach, nearly falling asleep with a cigarette in her mouth. When she stubbed the cigarette out in the nearby ashtray, she caught sight of the crack rock sitting on the table. The pipe caught her attention next, nearly hidden under the coffee table, and as she flushed the rocks down the toilet, she cried. It would be the death of her. There was no doubt. And every favor, every nice word Brit tried to give the woman would eventually be flushed down the toilet just like the drugs. There was no purpose to even flushing it. She’d find more. She always found more, and eventually, she’d find the rock that would be her last or the john that would be her last. And Brit would be the one hurt again.

When she left, her mother’s kitchen was clean again, her refrigerator was full, her mother was sleeping soundly without a cigarette in her mouth, and Brit had found what she hoped was the majority of the drugs and flushed them all before crushing three glass pipes and dumping them in the garbage. Not bad for a day’s work. But she was tired, she was lonely, and she was ready to call it a night.

When she pulled up in front of her townhouse, she hopped out quickly, shivering head to toe. It was late, and she was counting the steps to a hot bath and a good glass of wine. But the moment she slammed the car door closed, she was yanked back away from the car and was flying. She could see the hood of her car as her body sailed over it toward her lawn. She registered instantly the impossibility of it. She had been lifted and tossed like she weighed nothing at all over her own car, and as she watched the ground approach, she tucked her head down and rolled into it. It wasn’t enough to completely soften the blow and the deep ache in her left shoulder told her that it was either dislocated or had popped out and back in. It was an old injury from field training and didn’t take much.

Brit was well trained for combat, and the moment she rolled out of the fall, she rolled to her back, pulling her handgun from its holster at her hip as she rolled. But she wasn’t quick enough, and the moment she lifted it to aim, it was knocked from her hands and sent sailing nearly as far as her body had been thrown. Now she was panicking. It was Driscoll. She recognized him from the surveillance images, and he was dressed in dark clothing. His skin was pale white, and his teeth were barred as she stared up at him. He was straddling her hips, and she was pinned to the ground with snow quickly filling the back of her shirt and working its way down the back of her pants, but she paid it no attention.

“No, no, no!” She could hear her screams even though she didn’t recall intentionally making them, and when she put a fist in his gut, he retaliated by backhanding her hard across the cheek, so hard, in fact, she thought she might lose consciousness. She could hear a car approaching, but with the bank of shrubbery at her curb and the high snowdrifts beyond, there was little chance a passerby would see her unless they were intently looking.

When Brit’s flailing arms hit on her gardening bucket that had been set by the steps of her townhouse, she grasped. Her fingers felt like icicles and trying to latch to any one of the tools the bucket held was nearly impossible. Once she finally fumbled around and caught one by the handle, she nearly dropped it when the ice-cold metal handle burned into her already frozen skin.

She poised it ready to stab, and when she caught the man’s face again, he was smirking. “What are you gonna do with that, huh? Stupid bitch cop!” And he backhanded her again as blood spilled from the corner of her mouth. She thrust the spade toward his gut, but his hand moved quicker than her eyes could focus, and she was left staring at the spade in his hand and the smirk again. His teeth were barred once more, and she focused on the canines—fangs. They shined in the moonlight and the reflection off the snow, and she was quite certain in that moment she was going to die.

She heard the sound of snow crunching under feet at an impossibly fast pace before she heard his voice, and when she did, her heart let go of its absolute certainty that this was her end. “Get the fuck off her!” And then Driscoll’s body was torn away from hers. She sat quickly, scampering back to the steps behind her, and she tried to watch. There was no keeping up with the movements of their bodies, and watching made her pounding head throb all the more.

When one of the figures yelped and then darted down the street in a streak of pale skin, her eyes darted after him, but when she looked back to the figure crouched on the ground ten feet away from her, it was now Angus who was there. He was on one knee with a hand on the ground. As she glanced to his twinkling crystalline blue eyes, he looked just as predatory as Driscoll had, and when her attention dropped to his open mouth, she gasped … and she panicked. Fangs. Long, glinting, white canines just as she’d seen in Driscoll’s mouth, and he was snarling with his lips pulled as though ready to attack.

“Oh God!” she yelped as she tried to retreat further. But she was already back against the side of her steps, and there was no escape from him.

“Brit.” His voice was raw and ragged. “Brit, stop. It’s just me.” He stood slowly with his hands out in front of him. She watched as his teeth retracted and returned to normal, and his face relaxed as he took a step forward. Her panic was fading. When a quiet moan escaped his lips, she looked down and caught the handle of the spade that Driscoll had taken from her sticking out of the side of Angus’ abdomen.

She staggered to her feet and ran to him as he pulled the handle from his stomach and groaned loudly at the pain. It had been imbedded fully, and when he dropped it to the ground, she was almost shocked that he was still standing upright. But then, she remembered who he was, and what he was. But he was in pain. His hand clasped his side where he’d pulled the blade of the spade from his gut, and she reached to his body, searching his eyes.

“We need to leave, Brit.”

“We have to get you to a doc…” She was trying to sound commanding as always, but she was failing in his presence as always too.

He chuckled, but it was pained. “Driscoll knows who you are, and he knows where you live. It’s not safe here, and I assure you … I’ll be fine. It takes more than a gardening tool to kill a vampire.” And then he held her gaze steadily, waiting for her response.

She exhaled a deep breath and nodded slightly. “Vampire…”

“Yeah … but I’m a good one.” He gave a subtle smirk, and she could still see the pain he was feeling in the way he held his body. Vampire or not, he was hurt.

“Please let me help you.”

“If you want to help me, you’ll come with me, so I can get you out of here.” She nodded and put her arm around his waist. He didn’t really need her help she was certain, but it made her feel less a heel, and the tight hold he had on her shoulder was reassuring. She was trembling against his body as they walked.

His Range Rover was parked behind her pathetic, police-issued Crown Vic, and he still helped her into the front seat before rounding the car to the driver’s side. He drove fast, never taking his hand from hers, and when they arrived at his building, he pulled up in front, and the same valet she’d rudely dismissed on her first night at this building approached.

When he stepped from the car, he rounded to her side and helped her before the valet pulled from the curb. They entered together, and he pulled his cell phone from his pocket. “Can you come to my residence?”

And when they were in the elevator, he faced her and took her face in his two hands. He was studying the blood on the side of her lip. Every time she moved her mouth, it tore open again and started seeping blood, and after his tongue passed over his bottom lip, he leaned to her mouth and kissed the corner gently as she gasped. Then his tongued caressed the tear and licked away the blood as she stood frozen in place. When he pulled back, his nostrils were flaring, and she could see the tips of his teeth just past his lips. “Delicious.” She shuddered at his words, but remained silent.

“Did he bite you anywhere?” He was now studying her seriously. She shook her head. “Are you sure?” She nodded but still stayed quiet. She had no idea what to say. It wasn’t everyday you were forced to acknowledge a truth such as this. She’d been denying it, pushing the possibility out of her mind for days now, but seeing it in the flesh in front of her, she couldn’t deny it any longer.

He was a vampire.

*

She hadn’t stopped trembling. Hell, he hadn’t stopped replaying the events of the night himself. It was only mere coincidence that brought him to her place when he showed up. And had he not arrived when he did, she would be dead. It left his guts clenching, his hands fisting at his side, and his heart lurching and racing in near panic.

Langford had called him, livid about the arrest warrant, and Angus had used it as an excuse to see her. It had been three days, and he’d been testing himself. He wanted to see just how difficult it was to stay away from her. It had been bloody hell, and the moment he hung up with Langford, he was out the door, speeding most of the way.

Seeing Driscoll on top of her, he thought he might die. Driscoll proved to be a far better fighter than he’d expected, but when he’d sunk his teeth into the man’s throat, prepared to tear his carotid from his neck, he’d been stabbed with the fucking gardening spade. He inadvertently loosened his jaw at the pain, and the coward scampered off like a dog. And now here they were; Brit was known to a vampire who would have no problem killing her to protect his own ass and would without doubt try again, and he was panicking about this fact, knowing full well what that meant. He cared… He more than cared. Oh yeah, and she knew he was a vampire, so he had that going for him as well. Life was grand at the moment.

But she was safe.

She was sitting on his couch, staring at the coffee table in front of her. She looked like she was in shock, and as much as he wanted to hear her say something, he wasn’t at all sure what she was thinking. When Bremmer entered, she finally glanced at him before looking at Bremmer.

“You must be Brit. I’m Quentin Bremmer. It’s good to meet you. I’m a doctor, and I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“I’m fine, but Angus was stabbed. You need to look at him.” Bremmer’s focus turned to Angus, but the slight shake of Angus’ head had Bremmer’s attention back on her.

“Let’s worry about you first. Angus will be fine.” He sat in front of her on the coffee table as Brit’s expression remained distant and confused. “Were you bitten anywhere?” She shook her head. “You’re in pain. I can smell it in your chemistry. Where are you hurt?” She looked at him stunned before glancing to Angus who was standing by studying her. He couldn’t stop looking at her. She looked like she was two seconds from coming unglued, and it chilled him to see.

“How…?”

“Brit, answer the man’s question.” She glared at him for a moment before letting it go and returning her attention to the patient doctor sitting in front of her.

“My shoulder, but it’s fine. I dislocated it years ago, and it pops out easily, but it’s back in place. Barely sore at all now.”

“And you’re sure you weren’t bitten?”

“Yes. Why? Would I be a dog now too?” The tone of the word dog was unmistakable. Her attention snapped back to Angus, and her expression was loaded with disdain. He kept his attention trained on her with a steady and controlled expression. He wasn’t going to give her the reaction she was looking for. She was nervous, she was shocked, and her hell-bent-to-be-a-bitch attitude wanted to fight it out. It was how she maintained a sense of control in life when there was no control to be found.

But Bremmer was one of the more patient men Angus had met in the world, and he smiled calmly at her, ignoring the insult behind the word. “Dog, huh?” He chuckled. “Do you mind if I look at your shoulder? I’ll need you to take your arm out of your shirt.”

She nodded as she pulled the sleeve off her arm and exposed half her torso to him. She wore a simple cotton bra that barely contained her perfectly round breasts, and Angus’ cock suddenly fought against the fly of his pants to break free. Bremmer on the other hand simply focused on her shoulder with all the professionalism in the world. Of course, he’d not had the pleasure of making love to her to complicate things. And of course, he was simply more mature and controlled in such matters than Angus ever had been.

He prodded and manipulated her shoulder, and she winced once or twice but only on the most strenuous of manipulations. When he was finished, she dressed quickly. “It should be fine. It definitely feels loose, but I’m guessing it always does to some extent. Be careful and avoid using it more than necessary if possible. If the pain persists longer than a week, see your regular doctor.”

“And tell them what? That a man-sized dog threw me over the hood of my car?” She was still fighting.

“If you’d like, though I wouldn’t recommend it, unless of course you want a mandatory referral to a psychiatrist.” He smirked subtly at her, but it was still warm and caring. “And it’s vampire, Brit, but I think you know that.” And then he stood and walked toward Angus, leaving her starring after him.

“Now, where were you hurt?”

Angus lifted his shirt and Bremmer studied the wound. Angus could feel the skin knitting together and starting to heal, but he could also tell it wasn’t fully healed. Brit was craning her neck to see and nearly fell off the couch as she leaned to see around Bremmer’s frame. Her eyes bugged out of her head as she caught sight of the healing wound. She stood and approached him as he watched her.

“That’s impossible,” she muttered as she stood next to Bremmer with her mouth hanging open.

“Much like dog men, right, Brit?” He challenged her, but she didn’t look away from his stomach, and Bremmer smirked.

“You need to hunt. You’d be healing faster if you weren’t hungry.”

“I’ve been busy.”

Bremmer glanced to Brit but returned his attention to Angus quickly as he dropped his shirt back into place. “Regardless, see to it.”

“Truman and I will be going soon.”

Brit was watching their interaction with interest. The shock was still firmly planted on her face, but she was studying them. Bremmer was one of the few vampires who could hold his own with Angus. Not that Angus was a tyrant by any stretch, but he and Bremmer had always been equals, and there was no hierarchy between them. The same could be said of his friendship with Truman, though in his case it was simply Angus’ respect for the man that put them on the level. Truman was a couple hundred years younger than he, and while the leader of his clan, he’d been a solitary rogue for long enough to damage his place in any hierarchy. But throwing himself on the mercy of the council, and then destroying their previous tyrannical leader to protect the woman he loved had earned him a place on the ladder once more in Angus’ opinion.

Vampire clans were old fashioned in many respects. Females were seldom seen as part of any hierarchical family structure, least of all councils, and age had far more to do with status than anything else. Angus was head of not only his family, but of the council that oversaw the eastern region of the US. There were only five family lines left in their region. Each had a family home in Boston with ten to fifteen members and smaller clans spread out in the region. Clint oversaw Angus’ familial leadership role while Angus was preoccupied with council matters, and while Clint was too young to be in the role at little more than 250 years old, he was still the eldest of the vampires Angus had sired before it was outlawed.

The fact Brit was sitting in a room with two of the highest-ranking vampires in their region and knew exactly what they were was odd to say the least. When Truman and Ember walked in, it became even odder, and she appeared to struggle with her shock just a bit more.

“Hi, Brit. It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Ember.” Ember approached her carefully as though she might break, and Angus cringed, knowing Brit would lash out before she broke. But she surprised him.

“Hi. It’s nice to meet you too.” She was polite, civil; she even managed a small smile.

“This is my husband, Truman.” Truman offered her his hand to shake, and she did so. “Are you okay? We heard you were attacked, and just wanted to make sure you were all right.” Brit nodded, but said nothing. “Well, I brought you some clothes to change into if you need.” And it was the first time he realized she was shivering, her hair was wet with melted snow and the backside of her clothing was as wet as her hair. He’d been so preoccupied he’d managed to miss it.

“Thank you.” Brit took the clothing but said nothing else. Ember gave her one more gentle smile before pecking Angus on the cheek and turning to leave.

“We’ll talk about this later?” It was Truman who asked him the question, and Angus’ slight nod confirmed they had plenty to talk about indeed—Brit’s safety and how they were going to see to it for starters.

Chapter 14

Bremmer left with Truman and Ember, and he was suddenly alone with her. She watched him wearily. He could see the distrust swimming in her eyes, but she was also curious. How could she not be? It’s not every day you get attacked and then saved by a dog man—a laughable moniker to be sure. Such things tended to rattle people. Even people like Brit who already had her suspicions that there was something very unnatural about the man she was fucking. She’d been able to overlook it, ignore it, push it away when she needed to up to this point. But it was hard to ignore it when it was staring you, fang-toothed, in the face.

When she approached him, she met his gaze before reaching for the bottom of his shirt. She slowly lifted the tattered fabric that was saturated in his blood. She pushed it up high enough to see the healing wound left by the spade, and when she did, her head slowly shook from side to side. “How is this possible?” She was whispering.

“I heal quickly.” His voice was just as quiet. “Come with me.” He took her hand pulling her toward his bedroom, grabbing the clothes Ember had left for her. When he started the shower in his master bathroom, she watched him. When he started peeling off his dirty and wet clothes, she froze in place.

“I can shower myself.”

“Of course you can.” But he kept taking his clothes off, and when he was naked in front of her, he reached for her body to do the same. She pulled away from his reach, but he stepped toward her as she retreated until her back was to the wall, and he proceeded to reach for the bottom of her shirt again. She stilled his hand with her own, but he pulled it away and lifted. She was trembling, and the goose bumps covering her creamy skin showed of her cold and her nerves. He wanted to soothe her; he wanted her to soothe him, but she was struggling.

“I’m just a man. You know that.” He was whispering in her ear as he pulled her arm from her shirt.

“You are not.” Her voice was trembling, but she wasn’t fighting him as he pulled her other arm from her shirt and then lifted it over her head. She looked so completely vulnerable standing shivering in front of him with her soft skin bristling in goose bumps. He unhooked her bra and slipped it from her arms, before sinking to his knees and lowering her pants and underwear down her legs. He slipped the shoes and socks from her feet and pulled her clothing from her legs as she balanced with a hand to his shoulder.

He was already hard and ready to devour her pussy, but her legs were shaking and he could hear her heart pounding furiously. When he stood, he reached for her hand and pulled it to his cock as he used her palm to caress the shaft and closed her hand around him. “Yes I am.” She didn’t argue this time, and as he took her hand and led her to the walk in shower and warmth of the hot water, she followed compliantly as she inhaled and exhaled a deep breath.

He held her in his arms under the hot jets of the shower, and her head sank to his chest as he closed his arms around her. His erection was high between their bodies and pulsing in need. When she pulled back after a few minutes, it was to study him. She reached for his lips, and pushed his top lip up tentatively. Her brow wrinkled as she studied, but his teeth were retracted and there was nothing of interest to see. “I know what I saw.” Her gaze met his again.

“Touch my cock. Stroke me.” Her eyes narrowed. “You want to see what the hunt does to me? It’s the same thing as your touch does to me. Now wrap your hand around my cock before I find another way to get aroused.” She swallowed over the lump in her throat as she stared, and she reached down.

The moment he felt her touch, his jaw ached, and he dropped his head back as the water beat down on his chest. He could feel his teeth pushing and protracting into his mouth, and his lurching gasps gave away just how quickly she could affect him. His stomach muscles were clenching and twitching as she stroked up and down on his length. The wound in his side stabbed pain through his gut every time his muscles clenched, but he pushed it away, focusing instead on her hand. When he looked back at her again, her eyes were already bulging and her mouth was dropped open at the sight of his teeth. But it didn’t stop her from stroking his erection.

His lips were parted slightly, and he knew that only the tips would be easily seen, and when she lifted her free hand to his mouth, he let her push his lip up exposing the length of his sharp canines. She gasped and blinked her eyes furiously. She paused her hand on his cock, and as she stared, mesmerized or perhaps just shocked, her grip tightened around him to the point of pain. “Brit … fuck, Brit. You’ve got to ease up, love.” She let go of him instantly, and her eyes flashed to his. Shock was definitely it.

She lifted her now unoccupied hand to his mouth and touched the tooth. She was treading into dangerous territory. He pulled her hands from his mouth, holding them in his. “Careful. They’re venomous.” He was trying to keep her calm, not knowing just how well she was handling it. “Come to bed with me.” But she stood rooted where she was without moving. “Very well. We’ll make love here.”

When he pushed her up against the wall, she didn’t stop him. His hand moved to her sex and he pried and delved until she was moaning and panting. “Put your hands above your head.” He continued to tickle and toy with her sensitive skin, but she didn’t comply. When he found her eyes and cocked his head to the side, she shook her head. His lips found her ear. “Submit to me.” It was a seductive whisper that sent a very visible shiver through her body.

“No.” He could barely hear the rejection over the shower as she whispered on a terrified breath. He knew she was frightened. “I’m not into that … stuff. I’m not interested in BDSM or … or…” Her voice was trembling, and he pulled back to take in her expression. Still fear.

He watched her eyes as she spoke quietly, plucking gently at her sex with every word he spoke. “Nor am I. Entirely too theatrical for my taste. And I’d never want to touch that assertive fire of yours. I enjoy it far too much, and you’ve worked entirely too hard for it. But I am a man, and I want you to let me be a man. I’ll give you all the control you need in life, but not of me. When it’s just the two of us, you let me lead. You won’t regret it; I think you know that at this point. And you should know by now I won’t hurt you, regardless of the monster you may think I am.” He grazed lightly over the lips of her sex as she trembled. He kissed the corner of her mouth where the tissue tear still smelled of fresh blood. He dipped his tongue between her lips, tasting her, and then he trailed his lips lightly back to her ear again. “Now put your hands above your head.”

It was slow, hesitant, but she eventually complied, and once her hands were up, he held them gently against the wall with one hand. “Thank you, Brit. Is your shoulder comfortable?” She nodded, and he continued. He used his free hand to trail lightly across her skin from her neck to her nipple. He licked and laved the hardened peak with his tongue while he caressed farther down her body. He parted the lips of her vagina as he watched her face. There was no hiding her arousal from him, but he was more concerned about the fear she might be hiding in her mind.

He lifted her leg and planted her foot on the corner bench built into the large custom tile shower. Her spread legs opened up the lips of her cunt to his prying fingers, and he slid his middle finger into her body as she groaned. He thrust as she panted. “More?” She whispered her response against his neck as he pushed a second finger into her hot passage. Her muscles were gripping his fingers as he pushed and pulled them from her body. “More?” He held his fingers buried inside her as her muscles clenched tight around him.

She whimpered, but didn’t answer. Angus pulled back to find her eyes. And when he found her staring startled at him, he nodded slowly and she did too. Her body was wet and aroused, and when he pulled his two fingers from her, they were slippery with her cum. He worked three fingers of his hand in slowly, folding them together. He held her hands firmly in place above her head, and when the fingertips pushed deeper and his fingers widened, she cried out, and he watched her face. He was stretching her tightness, but the moment he stilled his fingers, she pushed down against him, sinking further over his fingers. She took him nearly to his knuckles, and she started groaning and rolling her hips against his fingers. He pulled and pushed into her as she pushed down to meet his movements, and soon her entire body was trembling, her stomach was clenching tight, and her pussy muscles were gripping him as he thrust.

As her knees gave way when her orgasm swept through her, he pulled his fingers from her body and pushed his body up against hers to pin her securely to the wall. She buried her head to his chest, panting. “Too much?”

She shook her head still panting, and he chuckled. She was so fucking cute when she wasn’t arguing or trying to handle him. Hell, she was cute even when she was trying to call the shots. He pulled back from her body, leaning down and kissing her before speaking again. “On your knees, love.” She took a deep breath, and he loosened his hold on her hands as she slid down the wall and knelt in front of him. He moved her hands to his chest, pinning them to his pecs with his hands.

She took no coaxing to lean to his hard cock and slide her lips over the head. It was the first time she’d taken him in her mouth, and it was more ecstasy than he thought he could handle. He watched her lips distend as she sank over his length and pulled back out. Her hands jerked against his chest in her desire to touch him, but he held her hands clasped to his chest, forcing her to use just her mouth. When she pulled her mouth from his cock, she reached her tongue to stroke up the underside of his penis, tracing the peak of skin that led to his slit and the precum that was dribbling from him.

She licked it away before pushing her mouth back over the head. But she went no further than that. She circled the head with her tongue as she sucked, and he groaned loud at the torment. When he started pushing his hips into her mouth, she held still, opened up, and let him fuck her face. Her hands still twitched against his chest occasionally when she wanted to break free and touch, but he gently thrust and she sucked until he was groaning and ready to lose his mind.

At the last moment, he released her hands and she touched. She cupped his tight testicles in one hand as her other wrapped around the base of his shaft. It sent him into an incredible orgasm that unleashed in pulsing spasms. He cried out her name, unable to stifle it as she stroked and sucked him through the waves of pleasure that pulsed and poured out of him into her mouth.

When she stood, he lunged for her lips, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and tasting himself. His teeth were still protracted, but so long as it was his tongue in her mouth and not the other way around, they were safe, and he dipped and delved into her silken warmth. Then finally, he released her mouth, stood back, and allowed her to bathe. He watched as she shampooed her hair, and as she ran the bar of soap he handed her over her skin, lathering her hands and used the soapy palms of her hands to wash her skin. He studied her every move, enjoying the way she touched her body.

When she reached for his body, he pushed off the wall. She soaped up his chest and ran her sudsy fingers over every inch of his front side. He was hard again by the time she reached his dick, and she washed it, gently running her fingers over his skin there as well. When she soaped up his hands and arms, she spoke. “My back?” He nodded slightly as he wrapped his arms around her and started rubbing and massaging the back of her shoulders. She mimicked his movements with her own hands, reaching to his back. When he moved down, she did too. When he reached her lower back and ran his hands in large circles that dipped down over the tops of her round bottom cheeks, her hands did the same. She bit her lower lip as he smirked at her. Apparently nearly dying made the girl playful.

He moved lower, knowing she’d follow with her own hands. He groped and squeezed the tight muscles of her buttocks and he hummed as he watched her eyes. The soap was now washed away from their hands by the shower, but this had ceased to have anything to do with getting clean. When he slipped his fingers between the cheeks of her ass, he knew exactly what he was getting into. She followed his lead, caressing between his cheeks, and when he lightly rubbed over the puckered skin of her anus, she became the first women ever to touch him in such a way. And he fell apart.

He groaned at the intimacy of her finger running gently over his anus, and she did too. He paused, waiting, contemplating exactly what he was considering doing. He met her challenging smirk again. She was daring him with her eyes, and as he shook his head slightly, she spoke. “You sure you want to go there?”

He studied her for a moment longer before he responded. “Oh, yeah.” And then he pushed … and she did too.

Chapter 15

When Brit woke the next morning, she was alone. She stared at the high ceiling above her. It helped little in terms of sorting her brain out, but it was peaceful and warm in bed, and her memories of the night before were too intoxicating not to give second thought to.

He had groaned loudly, and she’d felt his cock twitching against her stomach as she thrust gently into his bottom. She couldn’t stifle her own moans of pleasure as he worked his finger in and out of her anus. Every time he pushed, she did as well, and every time he pulled, she did too. It went on endlessly and she eventually dropped her head to his chest, and he nuzzled into her neck.

When he finally pulled his finger from her body, she followed. After they’d finished bathing, he’d lifted her to straddle his hips and carried her to bed. He grabbed a towel on his way, and muttered in her ear, “If you think I’m going to be gentle after that, it’s not going to happen.” And it didn’t—he wasn’t. But even in his pounding force, he was careful and controlled. His gaze never left hers if he could help it, and he watched, so intent on seeing her every reaction to him. She loved his strength; his confidence picked up where hers failed her, and it left her feeling his strength.

There was a softness to him, and a care and compassion she didn’t expect. It was new to Brit. She wasn’t stupid enough to think her life hadn’t lacked it. She knew how pathetic her existence had been up to this point.

And more than anything, it left her confused. And content.

He wasn’t human, at least not entirely so. There was no escaping the fact. But fact or no, it wasn’t a fact that could be known without jeopardizing him. Hell, it wasn’t a fact that could be known without jeopardizing her as well. Brit didn’t relish the thought of living the remainder of her life in the loony bin. It was where her mother deserved to be, not Brit. Or did she? Was she really okay thinking … knowing that such beings as he existed in the world?

He killed people to survive. He must, and though the topic hadn’t been discussed, it couldn’t be ignored. Brit’s life was devoted to capturing murderers, not fucking them. But who did he kill? Not innocent victims as Driscoll did. But if not, then who? And frankly, did it matter who? Murder was murder … wasn’t it?

Brit was far too calm under the circumstances, giddy even. At least for Brit who normally didn’t feel anything even close to arousal, joy, excitement. But she felt all of those things, even with a madman vampire wanting her dead. It was him. It was Angus. He was freeing her from some tight restraint she held over herself. He was helping her let go of herself, and he was picking up that burden for her. She didn’t need a shrink to explain it to her. She’d analyzed herself endlessly over the years. She’d dreamed of this release time and again over her life—in some fashion or another. She’d simply never lived it out. The daydreams, fantasies more like, were always about submission. Not the “theatrical” type Angus had scoffed at. The emotional type. The kind where she stopped being the center of her universe and started letting someone else be her gravity.

She trusted him even though she had no excuse to. It could hurt her in the end. It was why she rarely gave up control to anyone. But where she held tight to her control with others, she was too drawn to him not to accept his control. She wouldn’t give up the trust she placed in him because she needed it. She needed him.

When she rolled from the bed and stretched, she found the clothes Ember had given her folded neatly on a chair by the bed. She’d left yoga pants, a T-shirt, and zip-up hoodie. All fit well, and she was comfortable when she left his bedroom in search of him. She didn’t expect to walk into the great room of his residence to all three men sitting in his living-room area. Angus was sitting in an armchair as was Dr. Bremmer and Truman was on the couch. Angus caught sight of her first and winked quickly as she walked toward them.

When he stood and met her halfway it was to lean to her mouth. He kissed her gently—sweetly. It wasn’t overt. It was quick, and as he pulled from her, he ran the palm of his hand gently down the side of her head, smoothing her hair and sending a tingle through her body. “Please join us. Are you hungry? I can send out for food if you’d like.” She shook her head. In truth, she was starving, but she didn’t want to eat in front of these men. He walked with her, and she sat next to Truman on the couch.

“Can we assume you’ll keep the information we discuss private?” Truman spoke to her as he studied her face. He was an exceptionally handsome man with incredible hazel eyes, but he was hard to read. But she’d also witnessed his interaction with his wife, and there was no denying that he was capable of compassion and care.

“Can I assume you’ll give me no reason to arrest any one of you for the information we discuss?” she retorted. She wasn’t trying to be cheeky.

“You wouldn’t make it out of the building with any one of us, love.” Angus glanced from her quickly as he spoke. He was no happier to test her position of authority than she was. He couldn’t make this guarantee at all, and she knew it. She didn’t want to be in this position. Not with him. But this was her investigation, and she needed to be a part of this conversation whether she wanted to have it or not.

“I’m sorry, Brit, but there’s no hiding who we are in jail. The drapes are closed for a reason right now. The sun won’t kill us, but we are allergic to it, and given enough time, if forced to endure it over time, it would become obvious. Never mind what would happen when we needed to feed. I promise you, you don’t want us imprisoned anymore than we do.” Angus was watching her steadily, studying her reaction to his words. She gave him nothing.

“Why are you suddenly helping me? I want to know the truth. It certainly wasn’t your intention to begin with.” He focused on her as he contemplated.

After a deep sigh and nod from Truman, he spoke. “We can’t be exposed, Brit. It’s one thing to run into a random polygrapher or be brought in for questioning. We can … bury certain memories when we need to, but imprisoning one of our kind would be disastrous—to us as a species and anyone who comes into contact with us.”

“You ‘buried’ memories with Michael, didn’t you?” He nodded but said nothing. “Tell me about that. I want to know what you mean when you say bury.”

She could tell he was uncomfortable. She was guessing it wasn’t every day the man … vampire was expected to explain the inner workings of their kind to a human. But after studying her, he looked at Truman. “Care to do the honors? You most definitely have the most experience in such things.” He chuckled slightly as Truman smirked.

“Before Ember was turned, I used my ability to bury her memories to come in and out of her life. It was to protect her, but it was also completely selfish on my part. I couldn’t stay away from her, and so I used it as a way to be known to her and then disappear from her life. But it backfired… A vampire can only bury memories of themselves, and they are the only one who can unbury those memories. And it’s all or nothing. You can’t selectively remove certain memories. Our ability to bury memories does no good in a situation like this because it’s too … deep.” She looked at him puzzled.

“Take us for instance.” She shifted her attention to Angus. “I could remove every last shred of myself from your mind, but we’ve spent too much time together for you not to miss those memories. There would be too many holes. There are reports with my name on it, statements that I’ve signed, hours of time that we’ve been together. I’ve met people at your precinct. There’s simply too much to remove outside of your mind. It’s the same with Driscoll. Trust me.” He smirked. “I’d love to simply wipe him out of your records and handle this problem myself. But I can’t do that.”

“You know, Brit, I nearly lost Ember forever because I removed memories that I lost the ability to give back to her. It left holes of time in her memory that I was responsible for. We’re not considering it for any reason at this point. We don’t want to do that to you or anyone else with any real involvement.” Truman’s eyes were serious as he spoke.

When she turned to Angus again, she tried to keep the worry from her expression. “Have you ever buried my memories?”

He shook his head. “No. It’s the last thing I want to do. And I wouldn’t consider it unless it was to protect you and I had no other alternative. You have to understand, it was necessary for Truman because his family as well as our council were led by different men than now. Tyrants for all intents and purposes. Ember’s life would have been ended for her relationship with Truman then. It’s also simply not wise for us to allow ourselves to be known by humans. In your case, though, too much has happened with your case and between us, and it’s just not possible at this point without messing up the situation even more.”

“And since you’re bedding the new chairman of our council, I’m guessing Angus has his own reasons for wanting to keep your mind intact.” It was Dr. Bremmer, and he smirked when she met his gaze. Brit blushed. Angus glared, and Dr. Bremmer shrugged his shoulders tauntingly when he caught Angus’ glare.

“So where does that leave us with Driscoll? You’re not helping me for no reason, and you’ve made it clear you don’t want him being arrested, so I find it hard to understand the connection.” And as she spoke, she put it together as the three men watched her. “I see. You don’t have any idea where he is, and you want me to find him for you.” She was nodding, accusing them with her eyes. “And when I find him … what then?”

“We’ll handle him.” Angus’ voice was flat, quiet. She shook her head. She couldn’t be a part of this. Catching the bad guys was her job, not finding them and turning them over to men that would kill him. “He’s not human, Brit. He’s not your problem to handle. He’s ours.” She was still shaking her head, trying to reconcile what he was asking her to do … or not do.

“He’s a murderer. The families of his victims deserve better than that.”

“Yes, he’s a murderer. And the world deserves safety from him. You can’t provide that with him alive.” Angus’ voice was harsh, and he was glaring at her. She glared back.

“Well in that case, what makes you any better?” Her voice was as harsh as his when she bit back.

Truman answered to diffuse the tension between them. “Brit, we are only allowed to kill certain … types of people. And I assure you, we’re protecting humans by ending the lives we end.”

“But you bring up a good point, Brit, and a question we need answered in order to understand why Driscoll is doing this.” It was Dr. Bremmer. “What can you tell us about the victims? What do they have in common?”

She was still glaring at Angus who was consequently still glaring right back at her. When she finally pulled her attention from him and looked at Dr. Bremmer, he was watching her patiently. “I’m not sure I’m inclined to give you that information.”

“Let it go, Bremmer. They were drug dealers, and frankly, they got what they deserved.” Angus had spoken, and his words had Brit’s blood boiling.

Her mouth opened before she could stop it. “Drug addicts! Not dealers! These people are sick, not criminals!” God knew she was sensitive about the issue given exactly who her parents were, but she was yelling at him.

“Thank you, Brit. That’s what we needed to know.” His expression was flat. He’d tricked her into answering, and though she was shaking in fury, she didn’t miss the expressionless and flat look on his face. He wasn’t happy he’d had to manipulate her. But that understanding didn’t quiet her fury one bit. She’d played right into his game, and she wanted to slap him for it. She wanted to yell, but her anger had already tripped her up once, and she wasn’t going to give it a chance to happen again.

Then her phone rang.

She stalked away from them as she answered. “What!” The men watched her curiously.

“We’ve got the ME’s report back on the last two victims. Get your ass to the precinct.” Humphreys disconnected without another word.

She turned to the men. “I have to go.”

Angus stood. “Please excuse us. I’ll catch up to you shortly.” He tossed the words over his shoulder as he walked toward her. Bremmer and Truman stood to leave. And once the door was closed behind them, he spoke. “I don’t want this to be a fight.”

“I don’t see how it can’t be.” It was a depressing fact. They weren’t on the same team. She couldn’t accept what he wanted to do, and he couldn’t accept what she was required to do.

She turned from him to find her purse. “I’ll drive you to the precinct.”

“Thought you couldn’t be out in sunlight.” She was almost taunting him.

“It’s not long enough to do any real damage.”

The drive was silent until they were close. “He won’t be very active during the day, so you’re safest during daylight hours, but once the sun’s down, you’ll be vulnerable.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She was upset, and she wasn’t handling it well.

“I want you to stay in my building until this is resolved.”

“No! I have no intention…”

“Yes! I won’t have you out there risking your ass with a man you have no chance against.”

“Fuck you. I can take care…”

“If you want space, I’ll give it to you, but you’re not going back to your home…”

“Watch me!”

“I’ll drag you kicking and screaming back to my building if I have…”

“And I’ll arrest your ass for kidnapping.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

They were yelling at one another when he pulled up to the front of the building, but the people passing by didn’t stop her from firing back one more time. “Fuck you!”

Or stop him from responding. “Damn it, woman! All I want is you safe. Can’t you give me at least that much?”

Their eyes were furiously locked to one another. She had bigger battles to wage than where she was going to sleep, and she was being petulant and stupid, but she was so damn angry. After huffing deep, calming breaths, she finally relented. “Fine.” And as she opened the door and hopped out, she tossed back over her shoulder. “But I’m not fucking you anymore!”

As she slammed the door, he managed to get his words out before the door shut. “We’ll see about that.”

Chapter 16

She wasn’t kidding. Damn painful going from unexpectedly incredible sex to nothing in a matter of minutes. She was setting the pace, and glad as he was that she’d given up the fight on staying with him, she was as cold as the first day he’d met her. He understood it. Who the hell reacted well to finding out vampires existed, they’re fucking one, and oh yeah, his life principle happened to conflict with theirs on a core level that was impossible to get around.

She’d pulled up in her police-issue car that evening. It was dark, and Jonathan the valet had called as soon as she’d arrived. It was dark early in Boston during the middle of winter, and he was glad to see her only minutes after the last of the sun disappeared from the horizon. He had to hunt with Truman, and he needed all the time he could get, but he knew he wouldn’t leave until she was there safe. He was petrified for her safety.

Petrified. Since when did Angus get petrified? He wasn’t himself with her. Another pathetic byproduct of caring. Too damn bad she hated him now. But she didn’t really. He could see the pain in her eyes when she entered his residence. It was obvious in the awkward way she glanced at him, looked away, and blew a steadying breath of air from her pursed lips that held a load of heavy emotion.

“I’m sorry about this morning.” She was quiet when she spoke, looking at his chest, and in one moment, relief flooded his soul … but then she spoke again and destroyed that relief. “But I can’t … I can’t deal with … this.” Her expression held none of her harsh attitude. And he could see what a struggle it was for her to look at him.

“You mean me?” He was watching her closely. He wasn’t upset with her. He knew what he was. He knew what she was. And she was right. But it hurt. And that was not something Angus was used to.

She nodded, refusing to look at him. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. She was not at all the Brit he’d met weeks before, and he loved her soft vulnerability, but he hated her words right now.

“It’s okay, Brit. I understand.” His hands were itching to reach for her, pull her into his arms, but he clenched his jaw instead. “There’s nowhere for this to go. You’re too mortal for me, and I’m entirely too immortal for you.” He hated his own words even as he uttered them. “But I need you to understand your safety is my main concern now. And until I know you’re safe, you’re just going to have to deal with me.”

“I can’t agree with what you want to do, or help you in any way. I don’t kill murder suspects. I arrest them.”

“I know. And I won’t ask you to tell me anything more about your investigation.”

“But you’re not going to stop trying to find him … kill him.”

“It won’t be your problem.”

“If you kill him and become a murder suspect yourself, it’ll be my problem.”

“Don’t do this, Brit. I know it’s hard for you, but I need you here. I need to know you’re safe. And there’s no point fighting when it’s your safety that’s at the heart of it.” Jesus, he sounded like Truman. He envied Truman’s heart. Always had. But fuck, the emotion behind it was painful. He wanted the woman standing in front of him so much more than he knew he could want.

She studied him for a moment before responding. “I’ll stay tonight.”

It wasn’t the answer he wanted, but he was willing to accept it for the time being. “I have to go out tonight. Do you need dinner before I leave?”

She shook her head and then froze in her place. “Wait. Go out where?”

He stared at her without a shred of expression on his face. “We’re not fucking anymore, remember? You don’t get to ask me those questions.” He wasn’t taunting her. His voice was calm, depressed even. He hated this, and it showed in his voice.

But her eyes widened as she watched him. “You’re hunting.”

“Let it go.” He cocked his head, warning her, not that she’d listen unless she had a mind to.

She turned from him and stalked away to his bedroom, closing the door. He heard the shower running within minutes and smelled the subtle scent of his soap as it made its way to him. He took that as his cue to leave and met Truman in the lobby. When they pulled from the curb, it was toward New York. It was a four-hour drive, and they wouldn’t return until early morning.

“How’s Brit doing? She seemed rattled this morning.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“And a fairly understandable response.”

“She can’t cope with who we are—what we do. She’s made that quite clear to me.”

Truman chuckled, but it was a far-off laugh that held no humor. “Hell, I can’t cope with who I am at times. Give her time.”

“Why? There’s no real point.” Fuck he sounded depressed.

Truman was silent for a long time before speaking again. “Do you love her?” Only Truman could get away with asking a question such as that.

He sighed, rubbed his forehead, contemplated telling him to fuck off, but he eventually answered. “Again, I fail to see how it could possibly matter.”

“Well you asked what the point was … and frankly, love is kind of its own point, isn’t it.” It wasn’t a question.

“You’re a dick, Tru.”

He chuckled but said nothing. Truman wasn’t a dick at all. He was ten times the man Angus had ever been. He was far more moral, far more in touch with himself, and far more open to the investment of himself in another person. It was easy for him to simplify the whole thing. Truman had his partner, and she was immortal just like him. Ember wasn’t tied to a deep, driving force she’d built her life around like Brit, and that conflicted so completely with everything Angus was. There was no question in Angus’ mind that Brit would never be able to accept who he was. And it was one hell of a hopeless feeling.

He couldn’t love her. Even if he might want to.

* * * *

She woke when she felt the bed move. She’d fallen asleep feeling empty. Something was missing. It was like one of those many times in life when restlessness caught up to her, when she needed something, wanted something, craved something just out of her grasp, and yet, she couldn’t put her finger on it. She was usually craving a good glass of wine, sugar, hell a good, old-fashioned regular soda. In this case though, it was him. She needed him. And now he was there. He was sitting on the side of the bed at her hip. He looked just as he did when he’d left.

But he was different. He’d killed someone, and she knew it, and as she watched him, her breath caught in her throat and she choked on a painful, agonized groan that she only barely stifled. She felt as though she was close to panic looking in his eyes. She hated that he could do it. She hated it more because she cared about him. It was oddly like the hurt she felt every time her mother chose drugs over her. He couldn’t give it up and survive, and for some damn strange reason it hurt.

It hurt because she wanted him, she loved him in some strange way and for some strange reason, and it meant there was no hope of that love not hurting her. Just like her love for her mother hurt. She felt the tears prick her eyes as he watched her. It was a physical struggle to stay in control of her body and fight the urge to break down, but she was Brit, and she couldn’t give him that emotion any more—not now that the decision had been made to end her affair with him. She swallowed and it hurt. Her eyes burned from the strain of not crying in front of him, and her chest was tight as though her ribs would break if she tried to breathe. Her world and the loss of him was closing in around her and suffocating her.

But she didn’t give him any of that emotion—those damn painful feelings. Instead, she stared at him as he stared right back. He looked beautiful, and she wanted to reach out and touch him. He licked his lips as she watched him, and she imagined what his mouth had done, what his lips had touched, and what his teeth had destroyed. The person likely never saw it coming and never imagined an end such as that. And the man she was looking at, and whose comfort she was craving like a drug she could barely resist, was responsible for it.

“Your heart’s pounding. Your adrenaline’s spiking.” He paused before he spoke again. “And there isn’t a trace of that arousal I enjoy so much.” She blushed at her transparency to him. When he opened his mouth to speak next, he closed it, contemplating for a moment. He looked embarrassed, ashamed even. “Your morality is not a luxury I have, Brit. But I do envy it—shocks the hell out of me quite frankly.” And then he stood and turned to walk away, turning back to her once as he reached the door. “You’re really quite incredible.” His jaw clenched as he watched her a moment longer, and then he turned and left.

She felt heartbroken when she crawled from his large, empty bed, but he was right. She couldn’t accept what he was, and she sure as hell couldn’t condone what he did. Why couldn’t he have been a fucking doctor or teacher… Hell she’d have taken a lawyer or … or anything but a damn bloodsucking vampire. Brit just had all the luck.

It wasn’t long before Brit was dressed and ready to leave. As she left his bedroom, she found him at his desk working on his laptop. He glanced up at her, but his expression was serious. Far different than when they’d first met and all he would do was torment the hell out of her in the most ridiculously arousing way. He’d been boyish almost, or maybe not boyish but carefree, in his playful and inappropriate antics.

“I’m not going to stay here.” She spoke the words, knowing there’d be an argument. He simply studied her. She took a deep breath, straightened her back, and pushed the confidence from her body unwillingly. “It’s not going to be easy on either of us with my being here. And…”

“No, Brit.” He found it far easier than anyone she’d ever met to disagree with her outright. And she loved it in a way. But not right now. “It isn’t about what’s easy. It’s what’s safe for you.”

“We have no way to know how long this might last, and I can’t…”

“You will. It’s not a choice. If you refuse, then you’ll find me living in your home. Trust me, my home is larger than yours. You’ll find it far easier to avoid and ignore me here.”

“I can take care of myself.” That remark earned a humorless smirk.

“There is no taking care of yourself when it comes to Driscoll. You’re human, Brit. You wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Then tell me how to kill him. I may not agree with taking his life, but I do agree with protecting myself if the need arises.”

He cocked his head and studied her intently. “So long as you don’t think this changes anything. You’re staying here, and if you’ll agree to stop fighting me on that, then I’ll tell you everything you need to know. There’s little hope it will actually save your life if you were up against one of us, but I would feel better if you at least had some idea of how we work.”

She thought for a moment about what he was asking. She had no doubt he’d give her no rest until he got his way, so there was really little reason to argue. “All right. I’ll stay.”

“Well then pull up a seat, dear.” His endearment was flat and more sarcastic than sweet. He watched her as he picked up the phone and dialed. “Can you come to my residence? Thanks.” And as they waited, he explained. “Dr. Bremmer studies our species as well as humans. He’s extremely interested in the pathology of vampirism as well as human diseases. He’s likely the most studied doctor in the world, thanks to centuries of medical school. I can’t even tell you how many times he’s gone into a different specialty just to learn something new. So when I say he’s smart as hell and the only person you’ll need to talk to about what we are, I mean it. He can answer any question you have and then some.”

Dr. Bremmer entered, and Angus indicated the chair beside her. “Brit would like to know how to kill a vampire. I told her you were her man. And I have no problem with you telling her exactly what she needs to know. In fact, I encourage it.”

Dr. Bremmer studied Angus for a moment before nodding his head and turning to her. Brit liked Dr. Bremmer, and as he looked to her, he commented, “So long as you don’t use this power against us.” And he winked. “There are two primary means of killing a vampire. Removing or destroying the heart or destroying and severing the brain stem. We’re not nearly as different from humans as you may think. We have blood, and the circulation throughout our body is what keeps us alive. The difference is your blood circulates to move oxygen throughout your body, and ours circulates to move the toxin that keeps us alive throughout our bodies. The toxin, in some sense, does what oxygen does for your body—though by a decidedly different mechanism. It keeps our tissues in a state of stasis—hence why we don’t age, and it keeps our bodies functioning. Your body takes in oxygen through your lungs to oxygenate your blood, and this oxygenated blood is then pumped by your heart through your body to your tissues and organs to keep them alive. Our bodies take in blood through our GI tract and process that blood to feed and replenish the toxin that keeps us alive. Then, much like humans, our heart pumps the blood throughout our bodies. Our toxin is similar to the oxygen you need in that it breaks down quickly and constantly has to be replenished. When our bodies process blood, it provides what the toxin needs to replicate and replenish itself. With me so far?”

Dr. Bremmer was watching her, and she was staring in fascination as she listened. She wanted to tell him he was full of shit, but she knew damn well everything he told her was true. Angus was watching her as he leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head. The most Brit could manage was to nod her head.

“So, if you remove the heart or destroy it to the point it can’t heal itself quickly enough to keep pumping blood through our body, then you’ve killed us. The brain stem is our other weakness. Not the brain, but the brain stem itself. You have to keep in mind that we heal very fast. If you damage the brain, we’ll heal, if you damage the spinal column, we’ll heal. But our brain stem functions just as yours does, so if you cut off our most basic functions, such as the synapse that regulates our heart rate, we’re dead. Our heart actually isn’t as hearty as yours—no pun intended. Your heart will continue to beat at a particular rate even if the synapse is cut off from the brain. Our heart becomes weakened by the toxin when we transition, and becomes largely dependent on the brain stem for its stimulus—far more so than humans in fact.

“Our bodies can’t go long without a beating heart, and though we heal fast, it’s not fast enough for the brain stem to recover and heal or for the heart itself to recover and heal. That’s why those two areas are so critical to our survival. It’s all about keeping our blood flowing.”

“So why is your skin cooler than mine? I mean, if you have blood flow, wouldn’t it be warmer?”

“Temperature is far more about burning energy and having a metabolism than blood flow. We don’t have a metabolism like humans. Our GI tract is solely used for processing and absorbing blood products to support our circulatory system. There is no other GI function happening in our body except that which occurs and ends in our stomach.”

“Makes what we did in the shower the other night far more untowardly on my account than yours, doesn’t it?” Brit could feel the flames of humiliation rising up to her cheeks as Angus smirked at her. But it was still a rather bitter smirk.

Dr. Bremmer chuckled and shook his head before he spoke again. “The only other real deal breaker for us is living or preserved blood entering our circulatory system. We may ingest blood, but that blood is processed and absorbed into our circulatory system from our digestive system. Our circulatory system is really quite volatile. Once the toxin takes over a person’s blood supply during transition, it jealously protects itself from outside elements. If you introduce living or preserved blood directly into our blood stream without processing it through our GI tract, it can easily kill us. Living blood is blood straight from a living human or blood that has been preserved chemically in blood banks for transfusions and the like. It’s similar to a cataclysmic immune response in that the toxin rejects the human blood and starts destroying the body from the inside out. It’s similar in fact to being given the wrong blood type in a transfusion, though the outcome is actually quite different. In a human the blood would coagulate within the veins, in a vampire the opposite occurs in that we would bleed out and our internal organs would liquefy and break down. Call it a chink in our armor, a malfunction of sorts similar to any one of hundreds of autoimmune diseases in humans.”

She was nodding and feeling a bit stupid all at the same time. She understood plenty of what he was saying, but it was so incredibly difficult to believe, and yet at the same time, it made more sense than she cared to admit. Angus was still watching her carefully.

“When it comes to a human killing a vampire, it’s not impossible, but it’s not likely either.” Dr. Bremmer had started to speak again, and now she was all ears. “We’re, at a minimum, ten times stronger than humans. It’s just part of what the toxin does to our tissues. Even those few vampires that don’t hunt and take only second blood, like Ember for instance, are far stronger than the average human. Every sense is heightened. We can smell you coming; we can hear you coming. There is no sneaking up on a vampire, so you have no element of surprise. The best you could hope for would be to incapacitate a vampire until you could sever its neck or remove its heart. And the best advice I can give you, try to put a few bullets in the brain stem if you can. If you’re shooting from the front, you’ll need to angle up along the jawline in order to be effective. It’s the best shot you have. And there’s a good chance even that wouldn’t work unless your shot is perfect or you can get off enough shots to sever it completely.”

She was starting to understand exactly why Angus was so adamant on having her stay there now that DeMarco knew who she was and where she lived. She didn’t care to admit it, but she understood it. When she met Angus’ gaze, he studied her for a moment before speaking. “When I say you don’t stand a chance against him, I’m not trying to sound like a chauvinistic asshole. We’re just not human. Not in the way you are. We have plenty of weakness, but we have far more strengths.”

Dr. Bremmer left a few minutes later and so did Brit. She felt more fear than she cared to admit. Brit wasn’t stupid enough to think she was invincible in this world. She’d seen far too much senseless killing and crime to believe anyone was, but as she stepped from his building to her waiting car at the curb, she shivered at just how weak and vulnerable she was. Brit had always known her job came with risk, but it was risk she could keep in perspective. She could marginalize it by being well trained, smart, on top of her game. But she had no control of this. And she felt like a sitting duck.

Chapter 17

Over the next week, they continued to ignore one another. Their contact was as limited as possible, and since Brit slept at night and he didn’t, their interaction was easy to avoid. It didn’t mean she didn’t see him at all. In fact, every day she passed him on her way to work in the morning, or on her way in at night. He was blessedly gone a good deal of the time in the evening, and she refused to let her mind consider that at least once this likely meant he was hunting.

Brit spent their week of silence pounding her head against a wall at the precinct. No new bodies had shown, and as relieved as she was, it left her with no new clues to go on. She needed a break on this one desperately. The search warrant had given them nothing of use other than the evidence they’d initially collected, which was now sitting stagnant at the lab until someone had time to process it. Unless she could get her hands on the man, and do it without getting herself killed, she was as hopeless as ever that the end was in sight.

The ME’s report on the newest two victims showed nothing new either. The victims all had cells of unknown origin in their wounds, and while Brit knew full well the cause of that, it really changed nothing. It certainly didn’t help find the man they knew was responsible for killing their victims, and aside from staking out his family’s building, there was little to do but put out an APB and cross their fingers. She wasn’t optimistic.

In truth, Brit knew she was likely the best shot they had at finding the man. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say for him to find her. It was as close to contact as anyone had come, and while she was withholding a good portion of the details, she had reported that she had been attacked outside her home by a man she knew to be Driscoll. Add a few more charges to his file, but it just didn’t matter. He was nowhere to be found.

Brit spent the better part of her days talking to addicts in the seedier parts of Boston, passing out blown up surveillance photos with her business card. In return, she got a lot of hollow eyes, shaking fingers, slurred words, and one man nearly vomited on her; thank God she could move quick.

Every night Brit was home by nightfall, and she was being far more cautious about her safety than she typically was. Angus never left until she was there. Fortunately, Brit had found the pool on the rooftop and spent a few evenings there swimming laps. She had no time during the daylight hours to get to the gym, jogging was out of the question, and she needed an outlet.

One evening, she ran into Truman’s wife Ember while she was there. The woman watched her carefully as she shirked out of her robe and stepped into the water. Brit was rarely good at making nice the way other people seemed to be so easy with it, but the moment Ember opened her mouth, she had Brit at ease—at least by Brit standards.

“It’s been nice to have another woman around this place. I know we rarely see one another, but when I lived here, it was all men all the time. You can’t believe how much time I would spend in this pool just escaping.”

“Why so many men?” It wasn’t like it’d gone unnoticed.

“Many reasons. The former head of the council was … a nightmare … on more than one front. He didn’t hold much respect for women if I were guessing. But vampires are old fashioned too. I mean, they’re like hundreds of years old, so, kinda goes with the territory.” She was smirking at Brit, and Brit could feel the corners of her mouth pulling up. And then holding her hand to her mouth as though sharing a secret, she continued, “Kind of a promiscuous lot. But still, vampires are often commitment phobic in my opinion and impression of those I’ve met. When you live forever, do you really want a wife?” Another smirk.

“Like Angus for instance.” She regretted the words the moment she spoke them.

The sweet young vampire smiled a quizzical smile at her. “Oh I don’t know. He seems pretty taken by you, and he’s certainly not being promiscuous at the moment. Not for a single moment in fact since you came into the picture.” She watched Brit with interest.

Brit decided a change of subject was in order. She’d stopped swimming and was lounging against the side of the pool. The pool was heated and more than comfortable for the time of year. She was relaxed for the first time in days talking to Ember. “Why do you not hunt?”

She shrugged mildly and considered her response. “I’ve never had any interest in it. And I enjoy my husband’s and my … arrangement very much. I have no reason to want anything different.”

“So, it’s not that you have a moral objection to it?”

She regarded Brit with an appraising expression. “Truman found me chained to a wall in a basement when I was ten. I’d been abducted, and the man who’d taken me intended to rape and murder me just as he had two other children previously. He saved my life. Those are the people Truman hunts. The lives that are saved because of the people he kills are countless.” And studying her for a moment longer, she continued, “And the same goes for Angus too by the way.”

“He’s not said anything at all about who he hunts to me.”

“Well, I’m guessing he doesn’t think it’s a topic you want to discuss. And it’s not really an appropriate topic for him to discuss with a cop regardless of how much he may like you.” She offered another small smirk. “I like you, Brit. You’re strong, driven, and moral … but you’re damaged. Don’t worry, I am too.” Her face was angelic as she spoke. She was calm as though discussing such emotionally charged topics was nothing new to her. “We all are to some extent. Truman lost his sister to rape and murder hundreds of years ago and has been trying to destroy every last monster since that day. Angus walked away from the only family he had when he transitioned, and it was so uneventful to his family that they never even looked for him. Didn’t really care he was gone at all. And I spent the better portion of my life fearing men … fearing life in general for that matter … until Truman came into my life again. You don’t have to tell me where your damage comes from. But try to understand we’re all human, in some form or another, and we move through this life carrying the baggage of our past. Every ideal we hold has roots somewhere along that path. Just because we see things differently than you doesn’t make us evil. Angus is one of the most moral men I’ve met, though he likely doesn’t see himself that way. But then, that’s what happens when you come from a family who doesn’t care if you live or breathe.”

And then she was swimming toward the stairs. “You sound like a shrink.” Brit tossed out toward the girl. She was smiling when she said it, odd.

“And in fact I am. I work for child-protective services. I work with children who have been the victims of crime.” She smiled warmly as she wrapped her robe around her and turned to leave. Pausing at the door, she turned. “I really am glad you’re here, Brit.”

And she was gone, leaving Brit with more provocative words to process than she knew what to do with.

When Brit pulled herself from the warmth of the pool water it was because her phone was ringing.

“Brit … Brit … Oh fuck … uh Brit?”

“What, Mom.” She sounded higher than a kite. Nothing new there.

“Have to come get me. I’m in Chinatown.” Her voice was slurred and lazy.

“What? What the hell are you doing there, Mom?”

“You don’t know nothin’ ’bout me an what I do. Jus come get me, damn it.” She was obviously in a great mood, but since Brit was livid, it seemed appropriate. After her mother gave her something closely resembling an address, she hung up on Brit, leaving Brit talking to herself for a moment, before cursing loudly at the empty poolroom. “Fuck!”

When she returned to Angus’ residence, he wasn’t there, and she breathed a sigh of relief that she’d at least not have to deal with him. Brit had been on her own for as long as she could recall, and suddenly having someone oversee her every move was a bit out of Brit’s comfort zone, even if she understood the concern.

She jumped in her freezing-cold car that Jonathan had just brought around and cursed her mother again that she’d have to be out in the cold. She was tired, more than ready for Angus’ large, albeit lonely, bed and now this. It was an argument waiting to happen. She could sense it coming with every mile that passed.

When she pulled to the curb, she found herself wandering around aimlessly until she finally located her mother standing in an alley with a man. The streets were abandoned at this time of night and with the temps hovering near zero. They were bundled in warm parkas, and she could see little of the man except he was standing by her mom with his arm around her. If this was a john, she had half a mind to arrest the man. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d come across one of her mother’s men.

And then he turned toward her. Brit froze in place for half a second, pulled her gun from its holster in one smooth, effortless move, and trained it at the small sliver of the man’s visible neck. She needed a better shot, but he held her mother partially in front of him, and she was helpless. “Hi, Brit. Good to see you again.” And then she slowly lowered the gun to her side as she blinked, and she became confused at why it was in her hand and why she’d been aiming it at the man in front of her.

* * * *

He was nearing his panic threshold as Truman tried to trail her car. She drove fast, and with no warning, they’d been left playing catch up. Fortunately, she’d at least mentioned to Jonathan where she was headed, and they had a direction and a most probable route. They’d caught sight of her on more than one occasion, but with her ridiculously fast speed, they’d struggled not to lose her in the traffic. What the fuck was she thinking?

They lost her as they neared Chinatown, and not having an exact location of any sort, they’d been forced to drive aimlessly, searching desperately for her car. It was likely nothing, but he wasn’t willing to take chances with her. When they’d spotted her car, she was nowhere in sight. Truman had dropped him at her car while he circled the block, looking for her while Angus searched on foot, and when he stopped cold at a nearby noise it was to study it. It was voices and one was Brit’s. The other was a woman’s slurred speech. No doubt her mother from what Jonathan had told her. But then the scent of him hit his nose. He’d only caught the scent once at Brit’s home, but he’d committed it to memory. And as he registered what was happening, he took off in a dead sprint toward the voices.

He rounded the corner of the alley toward them, his heart pounding loudly in his ears in terror, and he skidded to a stop, frozen in fear.

“Mom, we’re leaving. I don’t care about your new friend, no offense, but this is ridiculous!” She was pissed, furious, but worse than that, she was oblivious. He’d wiped her fucking mind.

“Brit!” he yelled, his voice sounding harsh and only barely controlled. All eyes snapped to his, and Brit’s face showed fury.

As she stalked toward him, she started yelling at him. “This is none of your damn business. So what, you’re following me now!”

“Brit!” He grabbed her arm, yanking her harshly to his side from her place in front of him as she stared stunned at his face.

“What the…?”

“Quiet!” He knew she was furious at him, but he didn’t give a shit. And then turning his attention to Driscoll, he spoke on a low voice that bordered a growl. “If you so much as hurt either one of them, I will end you.” Brit was now stunned into silence as her focus shifted back to Driscoll.

He blew off Angus’ comment, meeting her confused eyes. “Well, Brit. Like I said, it’s good to see you again” Driscoll’s words were hissed on an evil breath. Her brows shot up for half a moment in shock and recognition before her hand moved to her holster, grabbed her handgun, and pulled it in an arch to aim.

“Let her go!” she screamed at them as her mother’s drugged body was supported by Driscoll—held captive by him. Her eyes were barely open, and she had a lazy smile on her face. And while Brit aimed, Driscoll clicked his tongue.

“What are you going to do Brit, shoot me? I’d have thought Angus would have told you enough to know it won’t do you any good.” He was nuzzling her mother’s neck as he spoke, licking at her skin as he went. His teeth were barred and he was threatening.

“Let her go, you fucking coward, and face me.” Angus could barely contain his fury. In truth, he felt helpless. He couldn’t do a damn thing with Brit’s mother in such a precarious position. When he grazed his teeth slowly and tauntingly down the side of her neck, Brit whimpered and Angus leaned to her ear. “Put that gun down now.” And she lowered it with shock and pain showing on her face, he stepped slowly in front of her. As much as he wanted to pounce and attack, he couldn’t risk it, and it had his blood boiling. Any sudden movement at all could send his canines through her skin before anyone could react. Driscoll knew it, and Angus damn well did too.

“Please just let her go. Please. You don’t have to do this.” Brit’s words were desperate and Angus focused on the man. He was waiting, waiting for any opportunity he could take, itching to make his move.

“You have no control here, Brit.” He was still nuzzling against her neck, opening his mouth occasionally and grazing across her neck. There were red lines streaking across the skin of her neck where his teeth had scratched the surface ever so slightly. “You couldn’t even stop me from making you forget me. The only reason you remember me now is because I released your memory. What makes you think you can save your dear mother. Why do you even want to save her? She’s nothing more than a fucking dirty whore, just like you!” He seethed the words at her like some slithering reptile before kissing her mother’s neck and smirking his evil smile.

When Truman yelled out to them from far off, Driscoll shifted his focus out the alleyway. In a flash he thought incapable a human, Brit’s hand flew back up with trained precision, and she discharged two rounds. She’d hit him square in the neck with the aim of a sniper and the speed of an immortal. Her mother was thrown into the wall beside her as Driscoll shrieked and bound over the tops of their heads. When Angus turned and started to pursue, he heard Brit shrieking for her mother. He stopped and turned back once and had to fight the urge to stay with her. Truman appeared at the mouth of the alley as Angus darted past him.

“Stay with Brit.” He yelled as he darted off down the street. Angus wanted to destroy the man, and though it was a fight to keep his run aimed toward Driscoll’s direction and not turn back to her cries, he did, knowing the chance was too good to pass up. He darted down side streets, one after another, following the scent of the vampire’s blood, but as he continued, the scent grew more faint. He was healing already, and his lead was too great for Angus to track without a blood trail. When it disappeared entirely, he stopped, slamming his fist into a nearby brick wall and sending splintering cracks out from where his fist landed. He’d failed. He’d paused when he needed to chase. He couldn’t stop himself when he heard her cries, and he was standing alone in a deserted street far from them now as a result.

When he reached the alley again, Brit was sniffling back the last of her terrified tears. She was kneeling beside her mother, cradling the frail, waspish woman in her arms. Truman was crouched beside Brit with a hand on her shoulder. When Angus approached, Truman stood and retreated to the mouth of the alley to stand guard, and Angus knelt beside her. The sound of the woman’s heart was oddly strong for someone who’d so abused her body. After moving her head from side to side as he studied her neck, he found it intact. She was passed out, and she had a gash on her forehead from where she’d hit the brick wall, but aside from that, she was fine.

“She’s okay, Brit. Her heart’s beating strong. She’s just unconscious. It’s pretty quiet around here right now, but we’ve got to go. Someone could have heard the gunshots.” She looked up with tears sitting on the lower rims of her eyes, and his insides clenched in need to comfort her. She nodded her head tersely before moving to her knees and helping her mother to slump against the wall. Her mother was barely conscious and instantly slumped to the ground in her stupor.

Brit’s gears kicked in, and Angus stood back and watched her. She started looking around the littered ground. Brit picked up a discarded can of spray paint and started scrawling on the wall near her mother as Truman crossed his arms and appraised her actions. He looked nearly amused were it not for the situation. He cocked his head as he met Angus’ quizzical expression.

Her graffiti art was lacking for sure, and once she’d emptied the can, she wiped it clean on her pants before placing it in her mother’s hand. “Wow, Brit. I had no idea you were into petty crime.” Truman was being sarcastic, and Angus wanted to join him, but he was wired to the point of feeling like he was coming undone at the seams. He wanted her away from here, safe and secure. When she left the alley, he followed closely behind. She approached a nearby payphone. She slipped a glove on her hand, picked up the receiver, and dialed 911.

“Yeah I’d like to report a disturbance. There’s a woman. She looks drunk or high, and she’s spray painting on the side of a building in Chinatown.” After giving the operator their location, she hung up on them before they could ask her any further questions.

When she turned back to them, she inhaled deeply and her gaze met his. “She’ll be safer in jail. If I take her somewhere, she’ll leave the second she needs a fix. Trust me. It’s happened before.” Her face was slack and tired, distraught to the point of shock. But when he tried to get her to leave, she just stood looking around for a moment. “I have to stay. I’m going to wait in my car until the uniforms get here. Make sure she’s safe.”

There was no arguing with her, so he didn’t even try, but there was an alternative. “I’ll stay. You and Truman go back to the building.” She looked at him, but said nothing.

“No, Angus. You need to be with Brit. The two of you can take her car back to the building. I’ll park my car down the block and wait until the police get here.” He clapped a hand on Angus’ shoulder and approached Brit. Taking her hands in his, he studied her until she looked at him. “I won’t leave until I know she’s safe. I promise. Please. You need to go with Angus. She’s going to be fine.” She nodded.

When Angus clamped his hand down on Brit’s as he took it, his body relaxed for the first time since finding out she had left the building. He wanted to drive, but it wasn’t an option in her police issued car, but as he slid in next to her, he couldn’t help commenting. “Bench seat in the front and all. It’s lovely.” She looked at him hesitantly at first, but then a small smile pulled her lips up. He reached for hand again, then changed his mind, and reached for her cheek instead, pulling her face to look at him. He swallowed over the words his heart wanted him to say and instead leaned to her mouth. It was a gentle kiss, but it lit a fire in his soul after a week of no kisses, no touches, no tastes, no everything from her.

She drove in silence, and he watched her. He wanted her home with him, and he wasn’t willing to let go of his worry until they were together in his residence.

When they entered the building Ember was waiting for them. “Truman just called. The police left with your mother, and he’s on his way back here. I’m so sorry, Brit. Tru and I will be staying for the next few days, so if you need anything, please just let me know.” She kissed Angus’ cheek quickly before they entered the waiting elevator.

Chapter 18

She’d been shivering and shaking since they’d returned. She was trying to stay away from Angus, but after the night they’d had, all she wanted was to be near him. When he finally entered the bedroom to find her, she was sitting on the side of his bed staring into space. She’d just gotten out of the shower and was wearing only a robe. Her brain was exhausted and ready to shut down, but her heart still sped as he walked toward her, kneeling at her feet on the floor. They just stared at one another.

When he reached for her ankle, she didn’t stop him, but she took a deep and steadying breath. His touch was cool but sent a warm wave through her body. And as he worked his fingers up her calf under her robe, she started to shake. She could feel the wet warmth starting to build between her legs, and she knew he could sense it. It left her cheeks warm and flushed, knowing she couldn’t hide it from him.

She’d made it clear they had no business being together, and it was as true on this day as the day she’d said it over a week ago, but she needed this touch more now than ever, and she was too weak not to accept it. When his hand reached her knees, he worked it between her tightly set legs and pulled her legs open. She swallowed hard as her mind started imagining what he would feel like again after so many days apart.

“What are you doing?” Her voice was quiet, even in the silence of his room as she spoke.

“Fucking you. I know how much you like it after nearly dying.” Slight smirk. “And I need it right now too. Call it life affirming. I just have to have you.” And then his hands were creeping up the inside of her thighs. She parted them, knowing the invitation would make it all the more difficult to put a stop to this. But she had no intention of stopping him. He was right. She needed it. But it wasn’t because she’d nearly died … again. It was just him.

She reached for the sash of her robe, pulling it as he watched. Then she shrugged it off her shoulders, letting it pool at her waist. It still covered her groin and where his hand was roaming up her thigh, but her breasts were exposed, and his focus stopped there. He was studying her nipples, and they were hardening by the second.

“Touch your breasts.” His eyes found hers again, and he didn’t look back to her nipples until her hands moved to cover and caress the swell of her breasts. She squeezed as he watched her hands move over her skin. She could feel the rock-hard peaks of her nipples as her palms grazed over them and the wetness was pooling between her legs now.

He pulled the robe open, letting it fall away from her thighs. “Scoot to the edge and spread your legs.” She complied, and as she held her legs in place and braced her feet on her tiptoes, he sighed and licked his lips. “Did you touch yourself that night on the phone?” His gaze had moved to hers. She nodded but said nothing. “Did you come?” She nodded again but bit her lip as she started to shake at where this might be going. “How?”

She was almost mumbling as she responded. “Touching myself.”

He was not mumbling when he very clearly responded. “Tell me how you touched yourself.” She stared at him. She knew it was shock on her face, but she couldn’t stow it. “Come on, sweetie. Did you touch your clit?” She nodded. “Did you put your finger in your pussy?” She nodded. “Then say it. I want to hear you say the words.” She shook her head. She was trembling like a leaf at this point, but she was flushing with excitement and need at the same time.

He knelt between her legs, pushing them even wider than they already were. He pulled her hands from her breasts and caressed the roundness of them with the palms of his hands. He pinched the nipples between his fingers as she cried out, and then he released them and held his cool palms to soothe the skin. When his lips touched her earlobe, she shuddered. “Say it.”

She cleared her throat, and she could feel his smile against her cheek where his lips caressed just in front of her ear. “I…” She cleared her throat again. “I rubbed my clit, and I … put my finger inside of me.” She let out a shaky breath.

“Say pussy, love.” His voice was seductive and warm as he spoke against her cheek.

Her voice was barely above a whisper when she responded. “Pussy.”

“Thank you. You have a beautiful pussy, Brit. Now how about you show me how pretty it is when you slide your finger in.” He pulled back from her cheek, leaving her cheeks flushed and her heart racing. His nostrils were flaring and his jaw clenching as he watched her. He sat back on his heels as he waited.

Her hand trembled as she reached between her legs. His focus was glued to the junction of her thighs, waiting. And when her fingers delved between her lips, they were soaked with her silky liquid in an instant. And when she pushed her middle finger into her entry, the wetness made an audible sweet, smacking sound that sent a shiver of fire running through her body. He groaned at the sight or perhaps the sound and reached for the waist of his pants, sliding the zipper down and undoing the button. He pulled his hard length from his trousers and stroked as he studied her hand. She pushed and pulled, and she stared at his erection that he held in his hand. She wanted to touch him, taste him again, and just the sight of his large masculine hand wrapped around the impressive breadth of his cock had her wetness building and seeping around her finger.

When he leaned toward her, he reached for her pussy, and she stilled her hand, waiting for his touch. “Don’t stop. Push your finger in.” She slid her middle finger in as deep as she could, and he touched the lips of her sex. He parted the lips, letting his fingers graze down the inside of each. He pinched the tight nub of her clit gently, and she groaned, and he then started slowly working his middle finger into her pussy as well. She could feel his finger alongside hers as it pushed slowly inside. Her wetness was coating them both, and she could feel it moving around their fingers as he pushed through it to her depths. When his finger was deep and snug to hers, he moved to sit beside her on the bed, wrapping his thumb up and over the palm of her hand. His angle was the same as her own, and he started pulling both their fingers out of her tight and quivering channel as he nuzzled against her neck.

He thrust and used their fingers to fuck her body over and over, his larger finger alongside her smaller one. Her wetness was sucking and smacking as he pushed and pulled, and Brit was panting. She reached for his rigid arousal beside her and stroked as he started to hum out his satisfaction. Her muscles were clenching around their fingers, and just when she reached her threshold, he stopped the thrust and started pulling their fingers from her body. She pushed, trying to keep going, but he was stronger, and as she met his gaze, he shook his head.

“Lie down.” His voice was warm and purring out his seduction. She moved to the head of his bed and laid back against the pillows as he slowly worked his way up her body. His cock hung hard and ready against her stomach, teasing and taunting her flesh, and when he used his knees to part hers, she pulled her knees up; she was ready too. He leaned to her mouth, dipping his tongue between her lips. “Hands above your head please.” She raised her arms, and he trailed his fingers up the underneath side, tickling across her skin until he reached her hands and laced her fingers with his, pinning her to the bed.

He lowered his body, and he ground his pelvis into hers. His cock slipped between the lips of her vagina without entering her body, and he slid through her wetness, driving her clit insane with need with every pass over the tight nub. She pushed her hips up to meet his body as he thrust between her lips, trying to get him inside her, but he pulled back until she dropped her hips back down to the bed. And when he smirked, she knew he wasn’t going to be giving in until he was ready to.

He set a slow and hypnotic pace as he glided his shaft between the slick lips of her sex. She was near orgasm and ready to come every time he grazed over her clit, and when he pushed through his stroke, his testicles hit gently against her bottom, teasing her even more.

“Now, Brit, I’m not sure I want to take your body tonight if you’re simply going to withhold it again tomorrow.” His voice was taunting, and as he spoke, he thrust one long, slow movement against her groin. “I understand very well that we have no business fucking one another.” His eyes were searing into hers as he spoke, toying with her. “But, I won’t have you pushing me away and then accepting me when it suits you.” He pulled back from her body as he watched her face. “You’ve tortured us both this past week when we could have been enjoying one another immensely.” Her mouth was open, and with every move of his body, she gasped and sighed at just how close and yet faraway she was from her release. “Do I need to worry about you pushing me away again?” And he leaned back to her mouth, stopping short of kissing her but grazing across her lips with his. When he pulled back to look at her again and pushed one long slide of his cock against her slit, she cried out in frustration. She shook her head. She was desperate, and in this moment, she couldn’t imagine pushing him away ever. “Say it.”

“No.” She choked on the word as her throat constricted further, and the moment she managed to get the word out, his lips pulled up slightly, showing just the tips of his pointed fangs past his lips.

“Good girl.” And then he thrust. But this time, he was lined up perfect with her entry, and he sank to his hilt inside her quivering channel as she cried out loudly at the sudden fullness. He started thrusting, pounding, and fucking her as she mewled like a ravenous animal beneath his body, but before her body fell apart completely, he rolled their bodies to leave her sitting on top of him.

He was watching her, smiling again, and his hands moved to her hips, gripping them hard and lifting her. She braced her knees on the bed and rose as he lifted before sinking back down over his erection. The depth was painful and brutally intense, but her body was so overready for its release she ignored the pain and plunged down hard over and over on his thick erection until the spasms of her orgasm made it impossible to move, and she crumbled down to his chest.

He chuckled as her muscles twitched and she groaned. When she lifted her head and planted a hand on either side of his neck, gasping to catch her breath as she looked at him, he winked. “Hold on tight, love.” And then he gripped her hips, holding her firmly in place as he pistoned into her body. She was jolted forward by the force and braced herself with a hand to the headboard as he continued to pound and thrust hard until his own orgasm was released in spasms within her. She watched his stomach muscles clench and tighten. It was intimidating to see the strength in his body, but it was also intensely arousing. His growling groan parted his lips as his head fell back, and she stared, entranced at the dangerous pointed fangs.

When he’d recovered enough to function, he pulled her mouth to his and kissed. She saw his fangs retracting even as she was nearing his mouth, and when she pushed her tongue past his lips, tasting the delicious, soft surface of him, he didn’t stop her. His arms encircled her, and she snuggled into his chest as their lips parted. She was sore, but she was alive, so incredibly alive with him. The threat of Driscoll couldn’t touch her when she was with him, and it was only with him that she managed to set aside any measure of the worry, doubt, stress, and anxiety that followed her through life. He was her Prozac; he was her Vicodin. He had the odd ability to give her happiness and security when life tried to keep those things from her.

He shifted their bodies so she was lying facing him and kissed gentle caressing kisses across her forehead as she slowly started to drift to sleep. When she heard his warm voice again, she was only barely conscious. “I was terrified tonight.” His words sounded worried and honest, but it was the unexpected vulnerability in his voice that left warmth pulsing through her body.

“I’m sorry.” She heard her words mumbled from her mouth more than she was conscious of saying them, and they were met with silence … but also more gentle, caressing kisses. It might have been the first time in her life she apologized to a man, to anyone for that matter. How had she become such a softy?

Chapter 19

When he showed up unannounced at her precinct the next day, it was for no other reason than he couldn’t stop worrying about her. After watching her wake up that morning, he ducked out to a nearby coffee shop, buying three different things to choose from. He knew she drank coffee, but he knew nothing about the stuff himself, and he intentionally hung back watching other people order for a while. When he heard a young woman who clearly couldn’t be old enough to drink coffee order a grande, iced, half-caf, triple-mocha latte macchiato, he panicked, but he was committed. It was all very confusing, and by the time he was at the counter, he was ready to give up and buy her a coffeemaker.

He settled on three different things. And by the time he exited the store, he had random coffee terms floating through his mind that meant nothing at all to him and which he vowed to expel from his head forever.

He found her naked in the bathroom, standing at the sink brushing her teeth. He nearly spilled the coffee on himself as he paused in a sudden need to stare. He was approaching from her side, and he loved this profile. She had an incredible slim waist, and her bottom was round. Her legs were lean and strong but still perfectly feminine. She stood up on her tiptoes as she leaned over the sink and spit a mouthful of toothpaste, and he smiled at the way it elongated her legs and tightened the muscles. When she finally caught him staring, she shrieked in surprise, spraying toothpaste at him. He chuckled; she blushed.

“What is that?” She was eying the three cups he set on the counter.

“I don’t know.”

She cocked her head to the side. “Is it…?”

“No, really, I have no idea.” Her unexpected smile had his heart lurching in need.

When he pushed her up to the counter from behind her, he leaned to her ear. He was hard and his erection was pushing into her back. She watched him in the mirror as her lips parted. He nuzzled her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her skin. And as his lips grazed delicately over her earlobe, her heart pounded, her wetness flooded, and a shudder ran through her body that radiated out to his. “I wish you didn’t have to work. We could be doing so much more pleasurable things that won’t get you killed here.”

She watched him with a subtle smile on her lips. “Someone has to catch the bad guys.”

“I prefer to just eat them.” He shouldn’t have said it, and as her lips parted and she studied him, he regretted it. Her face had dropped, and if he could have kicked his own ass for being stupid, he’d have gladly done so. He leaned back to her neck, kissed gently, and then spoke again. “Let’s just bookmark this argument and save it for later, shall we?”

She nodded, but her eyes remained serious. He’d effectively killed that delicious mood with one fell swoop. Perhaps if he could keep his mouth shut she might actually like him someday. But keeping his mouth shut wasn’t really his strong suit. He stepped back from her body, and she moved to the coffee. He watched as she smelled each one, and then chose, sipped, and hummed her approval. Apparently, she’d forgiven him. As she walked from the bathroom with her choice gripped between her two hands, he dumped the other two and followed her, climbing to his bed and lounging while he watched her dress.

She hadn’t bothered to unpack the clothing she’d brought over, and it sent a most unwelcome stab of hurt through him. Why? Most every reaction he had to her was odd and surprised him. Why, for instance, did he feel like dying every time he imagined her being hurt, worse yet killed? He couldn’t stand her mortality; it was like some grotesque ticking time bomb that he was forced to watch and wait until it finally decided to go off. Every part of her life was somehow unsafe to her well being, and for a man who never, literally never, thought about safety for the sheer fact that there was little reason, it was unnerving, unbearable really. She was just too damn vulnerable. Vulnerable and fierce all at the same time.

His heart lurched as he watched her pull clothing from her bag and dress. The underwear she chose were boy cut and looked incredible on her ass. She chose a pair of jeans on this day, and paired it with a navy Henley, and brown heels. Slightly casual, but perfect on her.

When she clipped her gun holster to her hip, he smiled. He’d enjoyed, even through his terror, watching her put two bullets in Driscoll’s throat. She was a hell of a shot, and had her life not been so endangered at that moment, he’d have likely had a hard-on just watching. She caught him watching her and bit her lip. She was a far different Brit on this day than the day he met her. He’d been attracted to her instantly, and he was undoubtedly drawn to her fiery, fierce attitude, but now he could see the real her hiding behind the attitude, and he liked her even more because of it.

After they’d made love the night before, he’d pried. He already knew that her childhood had been difficult, but when she opened up and talked about being tormented in school by her classmates, it broke his heart—just another odd-ass emotional response she incited. She’d been humiliated endlessly, bullied incessantly, and terrorized without reprieve. The reasons were clear enough, and yet, she fought with every ounce of herself just hours earlier to protect and save one half of the catalyst for all her past tortures.

Her parents’ addictions and choices gave Brit the worst start to life imaginable, but she loved them still. He didn’t understand that … but he loved it about her. It showed a strength he certainly hadn’t had. He’d fled his family when he transitioned. He knew there was no accepting what he’d become, and he knew he’d find no support from his kin. But he didn’t have the emotional attachment to them that she obviously had to her own. It was a strength he envied. They hadn’t given her a reason to love them, but she did it anyway. He hadn’t had her strength at that point in his life, and when he contemplated the pain she endured time and again, it filled him with something that felt oddly like pride for her. She impressed the hell out of him.

She stopped at the doorway and turned to look at him. His insides clenched and a wave of panic hit full force as he held her gaze. She was too fucking human. Too weak. Too mortal. He was watching her leave to a world that held far too much threat and daylight was the only thing protecting her at the moment, and it was a pathetic deterrent at that. The sun didn’t even stop Angus from moving about during the day when he needed to. He could handle the discomfort, the weighing fatigue and weakness, even the slight burn that ran over his skin. What made him think it would truly keep Driscoll away from her?

“I’ll see you tonight.” And then she turned and left.

* * * *

Her mother had called from jail that morning, and after refusing to post bail, Brit tried to focus on her work. Her mother had been arrested enough there would be little lenience, and while vandalism, public intoxication, and public nuisance were the least of her mother’s criminal past, it would be enough to keep her off the streets for a while. She wanted her mother in jail, or better yet mandatory rehab followed by jail if she refused the treatment. While it was hard to imagine her mother getting clean after so many failed attempts, it was also hard not to imagine it. She was due in court the day after next for her arraignment, and Brit had every intention of keeping her in jail until that time.

When her phone rang, she jumped. Guess she wasn’t focusing that well on work after all. She was being called to the intake desk for a visitor, and when she rounded the corner, her heart fluttered for a moment.

“Have you had lunch?” His blue eyes met hers, and he smiled.

“No.”

“Then I’ll take you.” The woman at the front desk was eyeing him as though she’d never seen a gorgeous vampire before.

“I can’t imagine that would be very enjoyable for you given the fact you don’t eat.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I find watching you quite enjoyable, especially while you’re eating.” And then leaning to her ear so the nosy clerk couldn’t hear, he continued, “If you’d prefer, we can stay here and fuck in the supply closet, forego food altogether.”

“That won’t be happening.”

“Fine. Lunch first, and then we’ll find someplace quiet and private to make love before you have to return. That better?”

She said nothing in response. She was actually quite okay with that suggestion. He led her to his SUV and opened her door for her. And as he climbed into the driver’s seat, she spoke, “So, why the lunch invitation? When you can’t eat, it really does seem a bit pointless.”

He looked at her quickly. His expression was serious as he put the car into drive and pulled out into traffic. “You could have died last night … again. I spent two hours staring at the fucking ceiling in my bedroom after you left this morning, and I couldn’t stop imagining it.” His voice was distant. His cool and calm demeanor was tight and restrained at the moment.

“I didn’t die. I’m fine.” But she understood his fear quite well. She was walking around feeling the eyes of the world on her. She had been since her first run in with the man. She was no match for Driscoll. She didn’t want to admit it or accept it, but it was true. Two bullets to the throat would put a normal man on the ground and leave little chance he’d be rising again. But to put two into Driscoll, she’d have thought she merely kicked him in the shin.

He ignored her comment. “Where would you like to eat?” The expression in his eyes as he glanced to her said what his words didn’t; he hadn’t let it go any more than she had. He simply didn’t want to dwell on it.

“Second thought, I’m not very hungry. How about some place quiet and private?”

He chuckled and finally released a marginal amount of tension. “Let’s go home.” Her heart fluttered again. This time at his use of the word home. Or not that word specifically, but the word that didn’t precede it. The “my” was missing, and it sounded remarkably good without it. It sent a warm, inappropriate tingle through her body, and as her body reacted without her permission, he glanced to her, cocked his head to the side, and his eyes narrowed slightly. He hadn’t missed the effect his words had on her, and she could feel the heat creeping into her cheeks before she quickly glanced out the window. But not before she saw a small, gentle smile tug the corners of his mouth.

He caressed her hand as they made their way to his residence, and her body warmed and readied for him. She was already anticipating it. She’d agreed not to push him away, and though she knew she ought to and he did too, she was glad she had an excuse not to.

They didn’t make it past the elevator, or more accurately the elevator somewhere between the third and fourth floors. He hit the button that stopped it mid-ascension as he eyed her, and before she knew it, he was behind her body as she watched him in the mirrored wall of the small compartment. He reached around her and undid her jeans, pushing them down to her ankles. As he crouched behind her body, he slowly peeled her underwear down her legs, grazing his lips across the trembling skin of her legs as he worked his way back up. He kneaded and groped her buttocks and kissed passionate trails across the smooth skin. She really couldn’t see him with his body behind hers, and she couldn’t help but look at herself.

Her cheeks were flushed, and she couldn’t seem to keep her mouth closed as he gently aroused her body with his mouth. She felt out of breath, though she’d had little exertion yet. She didn’t look at all herself. Her normally pinched and harsh expression was gone, and it almost scared her. She didn’t know how to function without it, and yet she enjoyed letting it go so very much with him. When he stood behind her as his hands continued to knead and massage the round cheeks of her bottom, he caught her looking at herself.

“You don’t have any idea how beautiful you are, do you?” She watched him but said nothing. Her admission the night before of just how awful her tormentors had made her feel as a young teenager was still fresh in her mind and quite obviously, his too. As a child, the rare time or two she’d looked in the mirror and not felt complete disgust at what she saw looking back at her were short lived. It took no time at all for her classmates to steal even the slightest amount of confidence and dignity, and she struggled to feel anything good about herself even today—still hearing the insults and ugly words they had thrown at her. She hid that self-pity and self-loathing well, masked it behind a facade of attitude, but she couldn’t hide from him. He’d toppled that wall with nothing more than a subtle blow of his seductive breath to her brick and mortar exterior.

He kissed her neck gently, watching her with his seductive eyes. He was waiting for the answer that she wasn’t willing to speak. When his hands that were still gently rubbing the cheeks of her bottom moved around her hips to her sex, he gently pried her lips apart as she gasped and stroked a finger over her clitoris. Her breath came out as a hiss, and he groaned quietly against her neck. And when he whispered, “Bend over,” in her ear, she didn’t pause for even a moment.

Her legs were set tight by the constraint of her pants at her ankles, and she wasn’t entirely sure how this was going to work. She listened as his zipper lowered, and she closed her eyes, resting her forehead on the railing that encircled the interior of the elevator. She was waiting for the touch. First, it was just a slight nudge to the closed lips of her vagina with the head of his cock. Then it was his fingers caressing and tickling along the outside of her lips. When he ran a finger down her slit and slipped it between her lips, she could feel the wetness give way as he slid gently through, and when the head of his cock nudged again, he pushed against the wet slit as his fingers gently parted her lips.

His cockhead pushed beyond her tight lips and snugly into her channel as he groaned in pleasure and she gasped at the pressure. It was always tight and bordered on painful with him, but this was intense. The tight passage was restricted and narrowed by the set of her thighs, and she could feel him sliding along the sensitive skin of her lips as he pressed firmly and forcefully into her body.

He was watching her with a challenging expression on his face. He knew exactly what he was doing to her, and he knew the effect he was having on her body. When he pulled out, it was entirely out, and then slowly past the tight lips of her vagina again. Over and over, he left her body before forcing past her tight lips into her equally tight sheath. Soon the friction built to a warm pulsing vibration quivering through her groin, and she was moaning quietly as he watched her.

He caressed her bottom as he kept pushing and thrusting into her. He dipped his finger between her buttocks, pausing over the tight puckered hole of her anus. She clenched her muscles inadvertently, and it tightened her entire groin around his thrust, expelling a deep and guttural groan from him. But he didn’t pull his lingering finger from her bottom. Instead, he leaned over her body, driving his erection painfully deep to her core.

“I want you to give me this…” He was stroking lightly and softly over her anus, a complete contradiction to the deep ache his cock was inflicting on her pussy. His lips tickled her ear as he spoke, and he remained deep inside her. He wrapped his free hand around her waist and rested it on her lower stomach. She wasn’t entirely sure he couldn’t feel his thick length through her belly. He caressed her, releasing some of the tension and allowing her body to relax enough to accept his deep penetration. “But not today.” She relaxed further at his words. She wasn’t ready for that, and frankly, it frightened her to consider. “I need far more time with you than what I can take in an elevator to get you ready for me here.” He kept stroking his finger over the tight entry of her bottom, and she loved the intimacy of it, even if what he was proposing was terrifying.

He was too large. He had to be, but his confident and calm voice made it clear he wasn’t just toying with her. “Why?” Did she really need to hear this answer? It wasn’t as if she was unaware that men enjoyed putting women in such positions, but it wasn’t a position she’d been in before, and she didn’t know if she could hack it. At the very least, she deserved to hear why it was important to him.

“I like you submitting to me, and I can think of no submission more intimate and personal.” He was still at her ear, grinding into her body as his finger stroked.

“I don’t submit to you.” She didn’t sound very convincing as he thrust into her as she tried to get the words out.

He chuckled, but it was interrupted by his deep groan as she clamped down hard on his rigid penetration. “Oh God, Brit.” And more chuckling as he pulled slowly from her body and pounded back in. “Don’t kid yourself, love. You’re one of the most difficult people I’ve met…” Another deep thrust. “…and the fact you let me control your body in exactly the way I want…” Slow withdrawal. “…shows clearly your submission to me.” She scowled at him and pulled forward as he tried to enter her again, but a swift clutch of his hand to her stomach again, and he was right back where he started, pushing inside her body. “Relax. No one needs to know just how pliant and agreeable you can be except me.”

“I thought you weren’t one of those men. Too theatrical, remember?” She grunted midsentence as he hit her depths again.

He pounded into her body then, swiftly pushing deep and pulling fast. She was groaning even though she wanted to fight it. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction after he’d challenged her. And at the same time, she wanted to come unhinged by him. Her orgasm won in the end, and when she dropped her forehead to the mirrored wall in front of her, it was to catch her breath as he came too and emptied himself in her.

“Now listen to me, Brit, because this is important.” She lifted her head to see his serious expression in the mirror over her shoulder. His voice was as serious as the look in his eyes and as he started to speak, her mouth dropped open and she listened intently. “I will never do anything to your body that’s not meant to completely pleasure you, and I abhor even the idea of your pain. If I ever choose to tie you up, it will only be to make the experience more pleasurable as I make you come over and over and over. And there will never be a time when I want you to feel like you are less than me or owe me some subservience. Not ever. Your submission to my desires is your trust in my intentions with you.” And then leaning to her ear, his face softened, and he spoke on a quiet breath. “And I need that. I need your trust.” There was a vulnerability to his eyes that she hadn’t seen in him before. His body was still snug and tight to hers, and she was overcome with the need to kiss him suddenly.

When she stood up, he pulled his cock from her body, and she turned to him, taking a deep breath. She reached for his face and pulled his mouth to hers. She kissed him gently, wanting to give him everything he needed but clueless as to what that really entailed. When she pulled her lips from his, his jaw clenched. “I meant it when I said you could have all the control you need in life, but that fight has no place between us.” She nodded, and he leaned to her mouth again. It was far too easy to give into him. There was no fight at all with him. What resistance she gave him was nothing more than a fleeting shadow of her former attitude. It was a dying fish flopping around, waiting for its end. She just couldn’t maintain her old self with him.

Her old self didn’t get involved with men, didn’t take time for personal relationships like this. She didn’t let her guard down for a moment with anyone, and she fought hard to protect herself from pain and hurt. She made herself invincible by shutting out the world, and she sure as hell didn’t believe in vampires, much less fuck them. But that was a dying ideology that barely existed anymore, at least not with him. She was a little bit screwed if she couldn’t get this under control, because this was not a man she had a future with.

Chapter 20

“What does it mean when you feel like you’re going to die when you imagine a particular person being hurt?” His gaze was far away as he spoke, staring out his living room window. The sun was disappearing fast, and she wasn’t home yet.

“That you’re fucked.” Truman chuckled as he lounged on Angus’ couch.

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

“Are you going to tell her how you feel?”

“Tell her what?”

“That you love her.”

“I don’t love her. What the hell would be the point of that?”

“I thought I explained this before. It’s its own point, idiot.” He was still chuckling and watching Angus with a most amused grin.

“I’m not you, Tru. And I’m not willing to attach myself to something I have to give up.”

Truman shook his head. “I can’t tell you how to feel about her mortality. I was always prepared to deal with Ember’s before she turned, but God, I can’t imagine not having her immortal now that she is. I can’t imagine being forced to let her go. That’s tough.”

“It’s not tough because I’m not going to fall for her and let it matter. I don’t fall in love.”

“You think it’s your choice. How cute.” Truman was mocking him.

Angus didn’t respond but turned and looked at his friend. His inability to stop thinking about her, worrying about her, fucking her all meant something more than he was willing to accept. And frankly, it didn’t really matter if he was willing to accept it or not. She was still going to destroy him in the end regardless of whether he was willing to accept how he felt. He’d go insane if he lost her, and yet, he was going to lose her. It really didn’t matter if it was after Driscoll was taken out or at the end of her life, he’d have to give her up. Could he stop himself from caring about her just to save his own heart, his own sanity? He couldn’t stop himself from doing anything with her, let alone caring about her.

“She’s good for you.”

“Huh?” He was so far away in his own mind he’d missed the comment the first time.

“She’s good for you. Ember thinks so too.”

“Hmm. And what does your good wife have to say about her?”

“It’s as much to do with you as Brit. She thinks you complement one another. She thinks all the greatest lovers in the world do. You give her what she needs and she does the same for you.”

“She thinks my life is lacking in some way and Brit fills that void?”

“Do you really want to have this conversation?” He nodded. “Fine. Yes, that’s exactly what she thinks.”

“Go on.”

“You both had lousy upbringings—for extremely different reasons, but still. You both came from homes where you were neglected, and your personalities were very much affected by that neglect. Brit shut out the world. She put up a wall, a very harsh and sturdy one.” And then he looked at Angus with a degree of hesitation and a sigh. “And you shut out the world too.” Angus scoffed for a moment, but eventually let it go and listened. “Your wall was decidedly different than Brit’s, but a wall nevertheless. You lived half a millennia not developing any real emotional attachment to another. Not even allowing yourself the option of it. Hell you’re still fighting it tooth and nail. You treated relationships as casual, insignificant things, a game even. And from what Ember says, that’s as much a wall as anything. Keeps you safely unattached.”

He was intrigued, even if he didn’t want to admit it. “So, that doesn’t really explain what it is you … I’m sorry, you’re shrink wife thinks we bring to one another.”

“Brit challenged you. She made it impossible for you to ignore her or trivialize her, and she gave you an aim. You’ve always been moral, but she gave your life purpose and importance that you never had growing up. No one ever treated you like your life meant something, and she filled that need in you.” Angus’ gaze dropped to the floor. Damn Ember and her bloody insight.

“So, what is it that I bring to her?”

“Strength. Security. Stability. All the best ‘s’ words.” Truman smirked and so did Angus. “From what you’ve told us, Brit had a shit childhood. The problem is she built this wall to protect herself, and well, she built it damn good. But you were the key to knocking it down. Stubborn and incessant, you didn’t let her push you away, and she eventually gave in. She needed someone with your strength and stamina who wouldn’t give up on her and who wouldn’t tolerate her bullshit.”

Well they had most definitely deconstructed Brit to a T. And perhaps him as well.

When Brit walked through his door moments later, he relaxed. He watched her coolly. His insides were fluttering and pulsing with warmth that couldn’t possibly come from himself, but he gave nothing away as she crossed the room to his place still at the living room window. Truman was smirking at him, shaking his head subtly. Angus was incapable of hiding his internal response to Brit from Truman anymore than she could hide her reaction to him. And Truman was enjoying this fact at his expense. Truman excused himself with one final smirk, and he was finally alone with her.

After he’d finished making love to her in the elevator earlier in the day, they didn’t even bother going upstairs. She’d needed to be back at the precinct, and he enjoyed the blush of her cheeks the entire ride back. His hand stayed on her thigh as he drove, and he inhaled the delicious scent of their mixture that he knew would stay with her until she washed it away.

And as she approached him now, he leaned to her. “Well, don’t you smell delectable?” She blushed furiously as he pecked her on the cheek.

“You’re disgusting.”

He smirked. “No I’m infatuated with the smell of our cum. I’m especially fond of it when it’s inside you.” He was toying with her, and it was working. Her heart was fluttering already, and so was his. He wasn’t lying in the least when he’d said he wanted to fuck her sweet little bottom. Of course he did. He also wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to take his time. He wanted her begging him for it, and her trust was at the heart of it for him. But it meant more than that, and he knew it. It wasn’t trust alone. He wanted her completely, and if she was willing to take him in that way, then what did that say for how she felt about him? He couldn’t help wanting to know the answer to that question.

But not yet. She wasn’t ready… And he sure as hell wasn’t either. At least not entirely. For her bottom, sure, of course he was ready. To deal with what it all meant, hell no. For a man who didn’t love her, he was doing a damn fine job craving her love and trust.

It was a bizarre evening, at least for him, that ended up with Ember and Truman joining them for a few hours of card games. They sat around the table and talked and acted as though they were the most human humans on the planet. When they settled on spades, he partnered with Brit, and they spent the next couple hours bidding and betting without speaking to one another. She eyed him as she tried to figure out what he was thinking, and every second her attention was on him, his heart was fluttering, and Truman and Ember were smirking at his very human response to her.

Brit was on call, but her phone stayed silent. They didn’t talk about the Driscoll case anymore, but he also knew no new bodies had shown up. He was glad for it, but it left him little more to go on. He’d contacted one of Langford’s family members that led a solitary life in New Orleans, and the man, Aaron Spencer, had agreed to meet with him. He was expected the following evening. He’d not even mentioned it to Truman or Bremmer yet, and it was a conversation he knew would have to come soon.

He was done with Langford and was ready to take the man out with Driscoll. He’d failed his responsibilities disastrously, and if things went well with Aaron, he intended to replace the man very soon. He’d met Aaron a time or two over the centuries. He reminded him very much of Truman in some ways. He was a bit of a loner, never interested in the council’s affairs and more than content to maintain his own quiet existence outside of their world. Angus wanted to change that, and he wasn’t sure how well it would go over.

Brit was studying him as he spaced out, and when he glanced at her, he gave her a small smile. He’d gotten distracted by his thoughts, and Brit could see it. Her head cocked to the side, and he shook his in response. She let it go.

“So, Brit, are you planning on going to your mother’s arraignment tomorrow?” It was Ember.

“Yeah. I usually do. I found a treatment facility that has a bed for her if they’ll release her for treatment, and I want to make sure her lawyer has the information.”

“I’d like to come tomorrow if you’re okay with it.”

Brit nodded. She actually really did seem okay with the offer given the small smile on her lips. He intended to go as well, though he’d not yet mentioned it to her. He wanted to be with her, but even more than that, he wanted to make sure Driscoll didn’t show up. He didn’t really expect the man to be that stupid, but he was also a blood addict who was unstable, so whatever expectations he might normally ascribe to a logical vampire didn’t really exist with him.

Truman and Ember excused themselves for the evening and left him and Brit staring at one another across the table. “Come here.” His voice was warm and seductive and her body responded to it perfectly. She approached, and he guided her to straddle his legs and sit facing him. He kissed her, and his cock instantly started trying to push its way out of his pants and into her body.

“I’d like to go tomorrow too. Would you have a problem with that?” She shook her head but it was hesitant. He cocked his head in question, and she got the hint.

“This part of my life is something I’ve always had to deal with. And … it’s pretty pathetic.” She was blushing. She looked embarrassed or maybe just uncertain.

He took her face in his hands and kissed her gently again. “You love your mother. There’s nothing pathetic about that. She doesn’t need to deserve your love to get it. I envy that in you.” Her heart raced for a moment as he spoke. She liked those words, and he didn’t want to lose that connection with her. “My family never cared about me.” His own heart started racing as he started confessing that his own life was just as pathetic as hers, but he wanted her to understand. Her eyes watched his closely. He definitely had her attention. “They were wealthy, powerful, and … far too busy worrying about everything else in the world to give a shit about me.” She looked wounded as though she was hurting for him. “And … I didn’t love them.” He swallowed over a lump in his throat at that confession. “Or, I learned not to. There’s no shame in caring, Brit. Not caring was the chicken shit way out for me.” And she leaned to his mouth, kissing him this time.

She scooted closer to his groin, feeling his arousal, and he pulled her hips snug to him. But she stopped just as quickly as she started. “I’m not sure I can do what you want to do.”

He chuckled before responding. “Why don’t you say it, Brit?”

She looked at him as her cheeks burned. “Anal sex.”

He kissed her gently again, running his hands over her bottom. “You like my finger there.” It wasn’t a question, but she nodded slightly. “And you must understand that I would never do anything to you that I didn’t think you would enjoy.” She bit her lip as she studied him. It was a long moment later that she finally slowly nodded her head again. “Then don’t tell me you can’t do it. Let me convince you that you want to. Nothing will happen until you ask for it, and if I can get you to do that, then there will be little argument on the matter.” She took a deep breath. “Not yet, love. So stop worrying.” He kissed her before she could speak again and carried her off to bed before she could object.

She took his finger that night, and he held it steady and deep in her bottom as she rode his body. And when they were in the shower after, she approached him from behind, caressing over his back with her delicate, small hands before she slipped one between the cheeks of his bottom. She stroked and rubbed over his entry as he let his forehead drop to the wall, and when she pushed past his tight muscles into his body, he groaned. He loved this touch because it belonged solely to her. When her free hand wrapped around the rigid length of his cock and stroked as her finger plunged gently, his groan became a panting, spasming race to his next release, which she gave him quickly as he came on the wall of the shower. Her hand slowly pulled and stroked every last drip from his cock as her finger gently left his bottom.

He held her under the hot jets of the shower for many long minutes before they finally went to bed. He was far too nocturnal to sleep, so he read while she slept. He stayed in bed with her all night and made love to her one more time before she got up. He’d still not mastered the art of taking her gently, but she never seemed to care, and while he was intent on trying to be civilized with her at least once, he couldn’t imagine it. His body and control fell apart the moment he felt her skin against his, and it left him fighting his cock for control of his movements.

When she was in the bathroom getting ready for the day, he ran to the nearby drugstore, bought her a small coffeepot, coffee grounds, and a travel cup. He would not be humiliating himself with the fucking barista again.

She smiled when she saw him pulling it out of the box in his utterly empty kitchen, and he watched her make coffee while he sat on the kitchen counter. It all seemed so very human, at least what he assumed was human, and he loved it. He loved it because she was part of it. He liked sharing her life. He’d never wanted that before with anyone. But as he watched her moving about quietly, still yawning away her sleepiness and stretching her tired muscles, he reveled in it. A lifetime wasn’t nearly long enough with her, and it sent a pang of panic through him to consider. And the notion of a forever love suddenly made all the sense in the world to him. He understood Truman finally.

But it just wasn’t possible.

She approached him as he hopped down from the counter and leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss him. “Thank you for the coffeemaker.”

He stowed his internal struggle and smiled. “I know it’s not a very good one, but I suppose if it does the trick…”

“I would eat the coffee grounds out of the bag if I had too, so … it’s perfect.” Her eyebrows shot up as she spoke.

He chuckled. “Well I’ve never in all my existence had coffee, and given the taste on your lips, I’m not sure I see what all the fuss is about, but it appears to make you very happy.” And after one more kiss, she was gone.

* * * *

“Will the court come to order, please.” She’d been here too many times. Her mother was one of over thirty or so misdemeanor cases being pleaded today, but thankfully the wait wasn’t long. Her mother ended up being second in line. Truman, Ember, and Angus had shown up and sat directly behind her. Brit didn’t know if there would be anyone there that knew her, and she was glad they had the forethought to be discreet, but God she wouldn’t mind feeling Angus’ strong shoulder and strength next to her.

She’d become somewhat attached to the strength and calm he exuded, and sitting alone with an old woman knitting on one side of her and a smelly, skinny man who looked just as much an addict as her mother on the other side, she was ready to leap over the bench to his aisle and crawl into his lap like some pathetic woman she used to have nothing in common with.

When her mother was up, Brit quickly stood and spoke with the public defender, handing him a small piece of paper that he pocketed after quickly scanning it. Her mother looked bad. More than bad. She was shaking and looked half-asleep, and it was only just that morning that Brit had found out she’d spent a good deal of her time in the hospital after her withdrawal symptoms became so bad the infirmary at the jail requested she be moved.

Her lawyer, a man who looked entirely too young to even know about people such as her mother, let alone be responsible for representing them, leaned to her mother and spoke quietly. Her mother looked around in a haze and caught Brit’s eye. She didn’t smile, she didn’t frown, she just stared for a moment before turning back around.

“Your honor, my client is prepared to plead guilty to the charges, but we request she be immediately moved to a residential drug and alcohol treatment facility in exchange for jail time. There is already a spot being held for her, and it is my urging that the court consider this option. Mrs. Sutton has spent the last twenty-four hours in the hospital for medical treatment associated with drug withdrawals, and it will serve little benefit in my opinion to put her in jail at this point.”

The judge responded. Brit recognized him, and by the look of it, he recognized her mother. “Do you plead guilty, Mrs. Sutton?”

She mumbled her response before the judge spoke again. “Mrs. Sutton, you are not new to my court, and I’m not thrilled to see you back, but I’m inclined to agree that you need treatment far more than you need incarceration. The treatment will be a mandatory sixty days, and if you fail to complete it, the court will consider you to have violated your terms of probation…” She stopped listening after that. She’d heard all she needed to hear, and she let go of her stress and worry in a deep sigh.

Her mother was having a hard time standing up without tipping over, but she managed to agree.

“Bailiff, Mrs. Sutton can be prepared for discharge to the treatment facility that will be accepting her.” And her mother was led stumbling away. She looked back at Brit once, and Brit lifted a quick hand to her as her eyes teared. She never got over seeing her mother this way. Not in all her life had she become accustomed it. Her mother gave her a weak but remarkably sober smile. She might be in pain, but she was sober at the moment—a rare but bittersweet moment for Brit. It was fleeting. It was always fleeting. And it destroyed Brit every time.

She felt Angus’ knuckles graze down the back of her neck as he stood with Truman and Ember to leave. But the moment she turned, he was moving away from her. She left the courtroom as well, and when she exited the room, she saw Truman and Ember walking away down the corridor and Angus standing against the wall in front of her. He cocked his head in the opposite direction and headed down the corridor away from the exit and the groups of people.

She followed at a distance, watching his casual and calm movements. He was wearing a modern slim-cut, charcoal-gray three-piece suit that was tailored perfectly to his body and almost took her breath away. He rounded a corner down a deserted hallway, and as she rounded the same corner moments later, she found him standing with his arms crossed, leaning casually against the wall by a door. It was a small library room full of bookcases and as deserted as the hallway. When he held the door open for her, she passed through, and he locked the door behind them. She walked to the nearby window ledge, placing her palms on the cool marble sill and looking out to the city beyond.

His hands met hers on the sill as he stepped up to hug her body from behind, and he nuzzled her neck. “She’s going to be okay, Brit.” She nodded as he spoke. He was saying what he had to say, what was appropriate to say, but she knew better. Her mother was likely not going to be okay at all.

“It’s going to kill her. There’s no doubt in my mind.” He said nothing but kissed her neck gently. When she turned to face him, she reached for the waist of his trousers, but he stopped her with a furrowed brow. “What?” She snapped before she could pull her reaction back. Rejection bit at her senses in an instant. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” She sounded bitter and accusatory. She knew she was just primed for pain, and she was doing it to herself. She sounded all the Brit she’d always been, and she shuddered at the sound of it now. She hadn’t been that woman for a while now, at least not with him, and she didn’t like the sound of that Brit anymore. But in her current emotional state, she was slipping back into the comfort of it.

She needed him, and she was pushing him away. She could hear her voice doing it, and yet, she couldn’t stop herself. She was punishing herself by being cruel to him. But he didn’t let her get away with it on this day anymore than any other.

“That’s not why I’m here at all, Brit, and I don’t appreciate the suggestion.” He looked at her in exasperation. She didn’t react at all but to stare at his chest. She couldn’t understand her reaction to him. Her heart was crying out for his comfort and strength, but her body and mind were refusing to show it. It was as if she were frozen in place unable to move past herself. He continued to watch her, wait for her to crumble, but she just stared at his chest, breathing shallow, tortured breaths. It was as if she could see what she needed standing right in front of her, but she couldn’t figure out how to ask for it, couldn’t figure how to move her body and take what she needed. And so she stood like a statue, feeling the torture of her own behavior.

He eventually gave up waiting for her to let go of the Brit they both hated, and he sighed. “I’ll see you this evening.” It was an exasperated sigh, and he paused as he reached the door and unlocked it. “I’m sorry about your mother, Brit. I know it’s hard for you.” And as he moved through the door letting it close behind him, she clutched the windowsill and let her tears fall silently. She hated herself. She hated that she was responsible for pushing away what she needed when he was so willing to give it to her. What the fuck was wrong with her?

* * * *

He could smell the wine emanating from her skin the moment she walked through his door. It was nearly eight o’clock, and she was nearly three hours overdue. She knew he was pissed given the way she looked quickly at him and then walked straight to his bedroom as his gaze followed her, glaring. She glanced at him once along the way, and the searing expression of his fury must have brought her up short because her heart started racing. Her face didn’t betray her though, and she showed him only a cool, harsh expression.

He followed her, and the moment he was within the room, he gave up holding his tongue. “What the fuck were you thinking going out to get drunk? As though staying out past dark and putting yourself in danger wasn’t enough, you decided impairing yourself with alcohol would be a good idea? Is that about right?” He was yelling, and he hated the sound of his voice. Angus didn’t yell. He was cool, calm, infuriatingly so by many accounts, but he didn’t lose his composure, not ever. He let men with lesser control than he do such things.

“I don’t owe you any explanation about where I was.” And she didn’t. Why would she? But he didn’t really care what she did or did not owe him. He’d been terrified. Terrified for three bloody hours waiting for her, and he was going to make sure she felt his fury.

“When this is all over, you can go right back to hating me and destroying your life with your self-loathing bullshit, but right now, there is a monster on the loose that wants you dead, and I’m your very best chance at survival, doll. You might want to consider that before you decide to so recklessly put yourself in danger again. I thought you were smarter than this, Brit.” He stormed out before she even had a chance to respond.

She stayed in the bedroom for the remainder of the night, and he tried to distract himself until he needed to leave to meet Aaron. He wanted to yell at her more; he was itching, in fact, to unload his anger. He’d held back from her for some odd reason, and he was desperate to release it. He’d been worried the moment the sun went down. He knew she was upset, and after thirty minutes of waiting, he had called Ember. She’d found her in a bar near her precinct, blessedly alone. Ember hung back watching her and reporting to Angus. She’d been hit on three times, and after yelling at the last suitor to fuck off, she stormed from the bar, taking a cab home.

He understood she was upset. But he wasn’t willing to accept the childish bullshit she was putting him through. He listened as the shower was turned on at ten, and he heard her turn the lights out shortly after. He was meeting Aaron at midnight, and he left after peeking into see her sleeping soundly in his bed. She was at least safe.

Aaron was a relatively young vampire by most standards. He’d transitioned young and while he was technically the next in line in his family, he had transitioned only a few decades before turning people was outlawed. He met him in a quiet all-night coffee shop. They ordered tea, which they left sitting on the table in front of them as they spoke. The expression on Aaron’s face as he related the events of late was all the confirmation Angus needed to appreciate the man understood vampire ethics as well as any. He was outraged that so many innocents had already been killed by Driscoll, and Langford had done little to stop it. It was also quite obvious he had a load of disdain toward Langford outside of even this.

“I’ve never liked the man, Angus. He’s far too interested in maintaining the easy life he wants than doing what’s right. If you decide to take him out, you’ll absolutely have my support. There’s little choice really. Too many are dying, and if something’s not done, it could expose us all.”

“Driscoll’s a no-brainer, but with Langford … you realize that leaves you next in line to head your family.” The man started shaking his head the moment the words were out of Angus’ mouth.

“This isn’t the life I want. I’m sorry, but … don’t ask me to give up my freedom for my family line.”

“I’m asking. And I wouldn’t if I didn’t have to.” The man regarded him with frustration. He wasn’t upset. He knew where Angus was coming from, but it didn’t mean he wanted the role. “It’s not the saddle you think it is. Truman heads his family but maintains his own private residence. It’s not what it used to be under Sylvan’s rule. You’ll have all the freedom you could need, but yes, you would be responsible for the members of your family.”

When it was all said and done, Aaron had not agreed to Angus’ request … but he hadn’t refused either. He wanted time to consider the proposal, and that was something at least.

When he returned home, he settled at his desk, and it wasn’t long until his bedroom door opened. It was three in the morning, and she looked tired, depressed. He was angry at her for resorting back to the woman he’d met over a month ago. And even though he understood it was her pain, a deep and long-rooted pain, that drove her attitude, he was still upset. She had a hold on him that he didn’t understand, and his anger was as much because she’d hurt him as anything else.

She was wearing a T-shirt that fit snug and fell to her waist and underwear and nothing else. He watched her strong and lean legs move gracefully toward him, and his jaw clenched hard. She’d been the catalyst of the sour mood, and he didn’t want to be the reason it was perpetuated any longer. But it was hard.

She stood rooted to her spot beside his chair, and he watched her carefully, trying hard to rein in his anger. “Care to trivialize my humanity again, sweetheart?” He wasn’t doing a good job.

She pursed her lips and swallowed hard over the lump in her throat. He was making her nervous, and even though her appearance didn’t suggest it, he could hear her nervous pulse. Half his heart wanted to touch her, forgive her; the other wanted to hurt her the way she’d hurt him. “I’m sorry.” He stared at her as she spoke the words and then exhaled a deep breath, and he crumbled inside though he showed her none of it. She wasn’t the woman he’d met at all a month ago. And he was insane to think she could be at this point. They were beyond that. He’d thought it before, and he knew it now, even if he might have questioned it.

She stepped in front of him, and without a word, she sat down on his lap and curled up against him. He could hear her heart racing, but the moment he wrapped his arms around her body, the rapid flutter relaxed. She pulled her legs up, and she snuggled against his neck. “I’m sorry too.” And then he let go of a long-overdue sigh, and he let go of the anger. “Making love this morning would have been a completely appropriate way to deal with how you were feeling. And I wanted to. I just didn’t want you to think it was why I was there. But I guess you did think that. And I obviously didn’t handle it well.”

She pulled from his shoulder, shaking her head with her eyes glistening with well-restrained tears. “No, I overreacted. What I said at the courthouse was wrong and mean. I accused you of caring for nothing but sleeping with me, and I don’t think that.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear it. And it’s not all I care about by a long shot.” He kissed her gently, trying hard to hide just how intensely he cared for her. It was surely more than she realized, and it was definitely more than he wanted to admit. And while he wanted her to understand he wasn’t just some man that valued her for what she could give him in the bedroom, he wasn’t ready for her to understand just how much he valued every part of her. He wasn’t ready to deal with any of that himself.

“Well aren’t we just being all adult about things.” She was kidding, and it left him chuckling as she snuggled back into his neck. He could feel her breath on the side of his neck. It was warm and his groin was tightening with nothing more than that touch alone. When she sat up again, she stared at him, contemplating. “So, just because we know sex isn’t the only thing we care about, does that mean we can’t do it?” A slight smirk crossed her lips as she spoke.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It means nothing of the sort.” He smirked in return and she smiled. The first time he met this woman, he thought certain he’d never see her smile—thought certain in fact, she didn’t even own a smile. But she was stunning with her small white teeth showing. It added to her youthful appearance. She was thirty-two, and he noticed when she was relaxed and content she looked far younger than even that, but when the weight of the world was pressing in around her, it aged her. She was stunning regardless. “Now stand up, turn around and let me see that cute little tush of yours I like so much.”

She crawled from his lap, and he listened to her heart rate speed and her arousal flood his senses. When she was standing in front of him with her back to him, he reached for the back of her underwear and pulled them down her bottom, letting them to fall to the floor. Her cheeks were pale, and his jaw suddenly throbbed in desire to bite. He could imagine sinking his teeth deep into her soft, supple flesh. Instead, he spoke in a husky and barely restrained voice. “Bend over.” He took his time kneading the round cheeks as her body continued to respond. He pushed her thighs apart, studying the lips of her pussy at the juncture of her thighs.

He ran a light touch over the lips of her vagina with the back of his knuckles, and she shivered, but he didn’t delve, he didn’t stroke; he waited for her arousal to build more. When his lips brushed soft kisses over her bottom, she groaned. And when he grazed his fingertips up the inside of her thighs, she instantly parted her legs further. But again, he stopped short of reaching for her sex. He could see the silky, creamy cum building between her lips, and he wanted to taste it.

When he sat back in his chair, it was to release his cock from his pants. His hand moved up, stroking his length as he stared at her small but plump pussy lips. He caressed his length as it twitched and jerked in his hand.

“Reach between your legs and spread you lips open, so I can see you.” He listened to the sudden flutter of her heart, but she pushed her hand between her body and the desk she was laying over and gently pried her lips apart. She was bright pink in flushed need, and her cum was glistening on the slick folds of silky tissue. “Now slide your finger inside.” She used her middle finger to push a stroke into her pussy, and when she slowly pulled it from her body, it was wet. His cock was dancing in his hand as he continued to stroke his aroused length. “Use your cum to wet your anus and slide your finger in there.” This stopped her cold, and her hand went rigid between her legs.

He paused a moment to see if she would comply, but she was terrified. He leaned up, ran a quick finger between the wet lips of her vagina as she shivered and trailed his finger up to the tight entry of her bottom. She jumped at his touch, and he coated her rim with her wetness. He pushed the tip of his middle finger in, and she groaned.

“Now, Brit. I want to see you finger your ass.” Her hand clenched in a tight fist for a moment before releasing the tension and pulling from beneath her body. She reached back over her hip and approached her anus from the top. Her hand was trembling as she moved, and when she grazed over the gathered skin, she let out a shocked gasp of breath. “Come on, love. Let me see it.”

Her middle finger delved a shallow penetration through her wet entry, and he groaned very quietly. He was so hard and engorged that his cock was red and inflamed in desperate need, but he was also so incredibly intoxicated with this sight of her that he wasn’t ready to give into what his cock wanted yet. She pushed a slow and steady stroke into her bottom as he gasped. He was frankly a little worried he might come if he didn’t stop touching himself, and so, he gripped the arms of his chair and stared.

Her finger pulled back out, and she thrust in once more. She pushed and pulled, fucking her ass with her middle finger as he watched. Her back curved forward and she lifted to her tiptoes as the muscles in her legs clenched. She was writhing with every penetration, and as he watched, the arousal built in her pussy and a dribble of cum slowly trickled down her lips. He was gripping the arms of his chair so hard he was quite certain it would break soon if he didn’t give his cock the relief it needed, and the moment a drop of her cum dripped to the floor between his feet, he was off his butt and pushing one swift, deep penetration into her pussy.

She cried out at the unexpected harsh invasion, and when she started pulling her finger from her bottom, he clamped her hand in place. “Don’t even think about it. Now use that finger and let me see it.” She started thrusting again, and he did to. He was pounding within moments and trying hard to rein in his movements. He was standing and she was bent fully to the top of his desk, and he craved all of her flesh against his. When he pulled her hand from her bottom, it was to wrap his arm around her waist and stand her. His other hand moved swiftly under her arm and up to her neck, gripping her throat gently and feeling the pulse of her life under his thumb.

She rose to her tiptoes again, spread her legs, and bent her knees to give him the room he needed to thrust up and into her channel from underneath. He drove one pounding thrust after another, and she reached back to steady herself with an arm to his lower back as she was overcome by an orgasm that left her groaning and her stomach muscles clenching under his palm. It was only moments after that he found his own long-overdue release and growled out his orgasm against the nape of her neck.

He collapsed back into the chair behind him, pulling her body with him. She curled up on his lap again as their cum dripped from her pussy to his legs. And he gently stroked her nipple and waited for his body to calm and relax again, and when it did, he spoke against her ear, “You are absolutely incredible.”

He took her to bed after that, and she fell back to sleep quickly as he watched her chest slowly rise and fall. As he watched her, he felt her pains and her sorrows. He understood her and who she was. And he loved her despite all of it and perhaps a bit more because of it. He was in love with her. And Truman was right; he was fucked.

Chapter 21

When she woke to her cell phone ringing two nights later, he reached over and stroked her arm as she roused. She snatched up the phone from the nightstand and answered on the fourth ring. He was beside her with his laptop on his lap, and as dispatch gave her an address, her heart sank. Another victim. She’d gotten a bit of a reprieve lately, and now, that was over. She and Humphreys were being called to nearly the same intersection in Chinatown where she’d found her mother the week before, and as she jotted down the details, Angus watched her.

He regarded her seriously, and his jaw was clenched. She knew it was just as likely he was nervous for her to go at night as anything, but she also knew he could hear every word being spoken from dispatch. Uniforms had only just arrived after a tip being called in from a nearby payphone, and nothing was yet known except the victim had been torn to shreds again.

“Chinatown, huh?”

She nodded as she stood naked, searching for the jeans and sweater he’d stripped from her body hours earlier. He watched her move around the room, and before she was out the door, he pulled her down beside him, kissed her quickly, and then gently asked that she be careful as his lips brushed the lobe of her ear. As she was leaving, she heard him call the front desk and ask that her car be brought around, and she smiled to herself. He could be demanding, cool, and controlled to the point of infuriating her, but he was thoughtful, and it was an easy thoughtfulness that left her feeling it was simply an extension of his feelings for her and nothing more—whatever those feelings might be. But his kindness to her was certainly not something contrived.

She climbed into her still-cold car, and spent the drive zoning out. She wasn’t ready for this. It was bursting the fairly romantic and sweet reprieve she’d been given lately, and she wasn’t ready to see that tainted yet. And so she refused to go to that emotional plane just yet—that emotional plane that was riddled with dead bodies and dead-end leads. She thought about him instead and just how curious her life had become with him in it. She barely recognized herself anymore.

Brit had tried to see her mother the day before but was told she couldn’t have visitors for the first two weeks. She’d left the facility furious, and as she sat in her car in the parking lot, she started to cry. Brit had never cried so much in her entire life as she had over the past month. She was suddenly far more emotional than she’d allowed herself to be for longer than she could recall, and she suspected a certain immortal vampire might have something to do with it.

Crying no longer made her shudder in humiliation and vulnerability. He’d seen her tears, and he hadn’t pushed her away for it. In fact, he’d made her feel okay about all of it. Strange someone so nonhuman could make her feel so very human and content about it as well. Everything about him was so different, and yet, so perfect for her.

The streets ticked by as she drove, and she still refused to consider what she was about to see. She wanted to be back in bed with him. She missed the warmth of being near him. His skin may be cool, but he radiated a warmth that her life lacked. She certainly wouldn’t be getting any of it from Humphreys once she was on scene, and so she craved it now.

She pulled up to the curb on the same street she’d been on the week prior and saw the very alley she’d left her mother in was cordoned off. For a moment it seemed a bit too coincidental, but then she dismissed it. It was Chinatown after all, and there weren’t many blocks that didn’t see their fair share of crime. Humphreys was just pulling up behind her, and as they stepped out of their cars together, he harrumphed at her. It was his way of saying hi and fuck you all at the same time.

She almost smiled at his sour mood, but as she took a step and slipped on a piece of ice, he grabbed her arm quickly and pulled her upright. He loved her on some ninety degrees from normal plane that he functioned on, and as he let go of her arm as she found her feet, she chuckled. He harrumphed again. “What the fuck’s got into you?” His voice was gruff, and she laughed quietly as they began the short trek to the alley.

The marked cars had created a sort of perimeter at the entrance to the alley, but it hadn’t stopped a few gawkers from converging on the space just beyond the police cars. Fortunately there weren’t many. Too cold and too late … or was it too early? “Miss … miss, this way please.” The uniform man was ushering to her.

When she reached him, she stopped cold in her tracks. She turned to him, ready to lash out, but then she lost her edge. It just dissipated. Instead she shook her head, and Humphreys glared at her impatiently, waiting for her to either have a Brit moment or get on with it.

When she kept walking, Humphreys stared at her with a stunned expression, and as he lifted the crime scene tape and handed her a pair of gloves, he commented, “That was weird.” They started making their way back to the spot behind the Dumpster where the body lay.

Just another day in paradise.

* * * *

Five minutes after she left, his cell phone rang. It was Ember. “What’s up, buttercup? Did you call to hit on me, ’cause I have a girlfriend, and she could kick your ass?”

She chuckled in response. “Very funny. You’re such a dirty old vampire.” Now he chuckled. “Speaking of Brit, is she with you?”

“No, why?”

“It’s her mother. She’s missing from the treatment facility. I know one of the counselors there, and when I called to check on her, they said she was gone. She was there at lights out three hours ago, and now her bed’s empty.” Angus’ blood suddenly ran frigid cold, and his heart jumped into his throat, choking him for a moment. It could be nothing.

But it could be something.

“Em, I gotta let you go.” He hung up, dialing Jonathan as he rose. “Bring my car around as quick as possible.”

When he made it downstairs less than a minute later, Jonathan was just walking inside. “How long ago did Brit leave?”

“Not long. Few minutes before you called me.”

He hopped in his car, speeding away from the curb the moment his door closed. He wove in and out of traffic, knowing damn well he was running the risk of getting pulled over. But Brit had a lead foot, and if he had any of hope of gaining on her, it wasn’t a choice. His heart was pounding loudly, and he could feel the erratic beat pulsing in his ears. He was near panic, and his body might explode from the tension before he made it to her.

Chinatown. Chinatown was just too coincidental.

The same damn block they’d been on the week before. It was a random coincidence when he’d heard the dispatcher on the phone relay the address to Brit in their bedroom. Now, it was far more than just random coincidence.

But he could still be wrong. He had to be wrong.

He blew through a stoplight as cars careened through the intersection a mere fraction of a second after he sped past. Their horns blared after him, but he didn’t pay them any attention. He just had to get to her. He had to be there. He couldn’t let her endure this alone if he was right—if it was more than coincidence.

When he slammed on his breaks rather than plowing through a beat up old minivan as he neared Chinatown, he cursed loudly to no one, except perhaps the driver of the minivan that glared at him as he passed. The moment he’d passed, Angus put his foot to the floor and screeched down the street. He was close, so close to her now, and he was afraid. He was afraid for her, and he was dreading the scene. He was dreading what it would do to her.

It had to be nothing. It had to be coincidence.

When he turned down the street, he saw the cars, so many of them pulled to close off the alley. Brit’s car was parked across the street and a few hundred feet down the block. But the street was deserted. A small crowd had gathered behind the police cars. There were hands covering mouths to stifle their fear, there were excited, wide eyes from many who just couldn’t bring themselves to look away, and more than a few simply stood in a stupor, not sure what to make of any of it.

He was prickling with terror as he slammed his car into park and yanked his keys from the ignition.

It had to be nothing.

He silently prayed the world wouldn’t do this to the woman he loved as he reached for the handle.

That hope was dashed the moment he opened the door and heard her cries.

* * * *

She rounded the end of the Dumpster as she pulled her gloves on. She held her breath. She always held her breath when she viewed a victim for the first time. She never knew what she’d be confronted with or how much restraint it would take to maintain control, so she went into it this way every time.

Her focus lit on the feet first. They were unshod and looked dirty but delicate and female. Blood had soaked the jeans, and the saturation became heavier the further up the body her focus moved. And then the blood took over the scene, soaking every patch of fabric visible. The kill was fresh; there was little doubt. The blood was still wet and smelled of metal, as though she had the taste of a penny stuck in her nose, and when her eyes lit on the neck, it was gaping wide and destroyed. Frizzy, unkempt hair was stuck and matted into the torn flesh. Brit clenched her jaw tight as she moved finally up to the face.

And then her world stopped, and she crumbled to the ground on her hands and knees.

She heard a wail unlike anything she’d heard before, and it took a few moments to realize it was coming from her. She was staring at a face she knew so well. The eyes were open and startled, still glistening in their moisture. Tears were streaked down the cheeks and the mouth hung open.

Brit was sobbing, and though she knew it was her voice, she didn’t recognize it. Her hands were clutching at the snow under her palms, and the moment she moved toward her mother’s dead body, scampering in panic to reach her, a heavy, broad arm captured her around the waste, pulling her back.

“Move that perimeter back now! And get those fucking people out of here!” Humphreys bellowed out as he dragged her back away from her mother. She fought, kicking to get away from him, and he lifted her easily from the ground. His arms were wrapped tight around her body. “She’s gone, Brit. She’s gone.”

*

He didn’t even bother closing his car door when he heard Brit’s horrible cries. The sound was grotesque and tortured, but he knew the voice, and it destroyed him to hear the agony in her sound. He ran in a streak, closing the space in a fraction of a second, and when he pushed past an officer before he could even register Angus’ movement, he saw her.

She was on her knees in the snow. One hand braced against the brick wall in front of her and the other clasped to her forehead as though her brain needed to be held in place. She was groaning and wailing, her mouth pulled back in a pained, agonized expression. “No … no … no … no … that’s not … no… It’s not her.” She started shaking her head as though she could argue with death if she refused to accept it. Angus could barely swallow at the sight of her, and his throat burned in his need to fall apart.

“Somebody get her out of here!” Her partner turned on his heel from his place by the body. He looked livid, but as his gaze caught on Brit’s crumpled form, his lips pulled up in grimace of pain. When his eyes lit on Angus, he stared, saying nothing. He was wrecked and in shock.

Angus moved fast to her body, scooping her up in his arms. She flailed and screamed at him, but he held tight to her body, shushing her. “I’ve got you.” He was murmuring against her cheek the same words over and over, and she stopped fighting and went slack. He wasn’t entirely sure she was even conscious as he carried her to his car. Her pain felt like it belonged to him. There was no distinguishing the difference. He’d failed her.

Chapter 22

She woke from the most terrible nightmare, crying out before she could restrain the guttural sound from escaping her throat. Her gaze found him. He was there. He was sitting cross-legged on his bed watching her as she lay curled up in the warmth of his bedding. She started to smile for a moment, glad the terror of her dream had passed, and then she remembered. It was no dream at all. The serious and concerned expression on his face was all the confirmation she needed.

The tears hit hard. She curled away from him as wave after wave hit like a tsunami of pain pummeling her over and over and over again. His hand touched her hip, and he pulled the blankets away from her back as he slid in beside her. His arms were strong as they enveloped her body and she cried. His door was open and she could hear Ember, Truman, and Dr. Bremmer talking quietly to one another, though she couldn’t understand and didn’t want to understand what they were saying.

She closed her eyes to the dim light of the lamp that barely lit the bedroom. “Tell me what I can do?” His voice was soothing and calm.

His body felt strong against her soft, weak form, and she didn’t want to hurt him, but as she opened her mouth, she knew she was going to try. “Just leave me alone. I want to be alone.” Her voice was steely cool though she felt like she was dying inside. This was more pain than she thought she could handle. This was going to kill her. And she wasn’t sure she cared.

She pulled from his body and sat on the side of the bed. “Brit.” His voice followed her as she stood and walked toward the bathroom. “Brit. Talk to me.”

She rounded on him, pinning him to the bed with her cold, vicious glare. She was hurting, and she didn’t care that she was throwing it in his face. She needed to release her hurt and he was there. “Why? So you can comfort me, fuck me, pity the poor pathetic human. One of the most important people in my life is dead. You can’t do anything.” She was seething; her face pinched painfully in her state.

“I understand.” His voice was calm and warm, and for just a moment, she contemplated falling apart and letting him pick up the pieces. She wanted his support, needed it desperately.

But she also wanted to feel this pain. “How could you understand? You’ve never loved anyone.” His eyes showed his hurt even though his body and face remained motionless and calm. She was giving herself all the pain she could handle by torturing him.

When she turned from him before she could be more destructive to them both, he spoke quietly. “That’s not true.” She paused for half a second without looking back at him, and then letting her pain drive her further into her despair, she walked away into the bathroom without so much as a glance back at him let alone an acknowledgement that he’d spoken. What he’d said was somehow important, but she couldn’t grasp it in the single-lane highway to hell that her thoughts were running on.

When she’d safely enclosed herself in the bathroom and was away from the people who wanted her to feel better before she was ready, she sank to the soft, plush rug that lay in front of the overlarge tiled soaker tub. She curled up facing the tile front of the bathtub and stared. Her gaze followed the striations of the travertine, studying every ridge and indentation as they moved. The fibers in the rug were a fuzzy unfocused landscape in the forefront of her vision, soft against her cheek as she lay motionless on the floor.

She wanted to close her eyes and go back to sleep, but sleep was gone now. Her tears that had fallen so easily earlier were dried up and crusted to her cheeks, and the moment the thought entered her mind, so did the image of her mother’s tear-crusted cheeks and dead eyes. She’d seen so many dead eyes in her life, but her mother’s would be burned into her mind forever. She swallowed as distant pain worked into her mind. The misery was powerful, but her body couldn’t seem to react to it anymore.

She clenched her eyes tight shut, listening to the hum of the building through the rug and floor beneath. Heated air being pushed through ducts, electricity buzzing through circuits, water slowly circulating through pipes. The building hummed and whirred as if a living thing around her, and soon, she didn’t have to clench her eyes to hold them closed. She drifted away to some half sleep that felt awake but left her mind whirling in thoughts that made no sense to a conscious mind.

She could still hear muffled voices through the floor, and she imagined them sitting in Angus’ living room. She envied them more than anything in that moment. She could see herself walking into the room as though it were any other day. Ember would smile warmly, Truman would watch her in interest, and Angus would study her with his seductive eyes. She wanted to be sitting with them as though all was right with the world and her place was with the rational and emotionally unaffected, but it was a distant far off world that she couldn’t reach and certainly couldn’t be a part of.

Her tears came again and moments later they disappeared. She felt a bit crazy and wondered what would happen if she just stayed in crazy town. Could enduring this pain make a person mad? Could she slip away to madness never to return again? She didn’t want to get stuck in this place. Nothing felt normal or safe in her mind at the moment like some disjointed horror flick.

The door opened quietly, and she fought to bring her thoughts back to the real world. She was wallowing in her grief. She knew it, understood it very well, but she couldn’t escape it. She listened to his footfalls on the floor as they approached her, and when he sat on the side of the tub at her head, he leaned to the faucet and turned it on, leaving the sound of a roaring waterfall to reverberate up through the floor to her ear. She listened as the tub filled, and he sat motionless on the side of it.

After a few minutes the din of the water turned quieter as the water level rose, and he stood, rounding her body. He touched her cheek, brushing her short hair back from her cheek as his knuckles ran down the skin. He sat behind her, pulling her up to sit in front of him, and he pulled her shirt up over her head. She vaguely remembered him removing these clothes from her body earlier in the day, but it seemed a lifetime ago.

He’d made love to her as he always did, intensely, passionately, roughly, and soundly. Now, he touched with an exceptionally soft hand. He pulled her back to rest against his chest as he reached for the waist of her pants, saying nothing at all. When she was naked, he helped her in and climbed in after her. She collapsed to his chest, listening to the odd sound of his inhuman heart strongly beating its unique contractions.

“Are you here to fuck me?” She could hear the words in her mind before she spoke them, and she knew they were wrong, cruel, but she didn’t even attempt to stop them. Being cruel was as life affirming as fucking. At least this way, if he didn’t want to fuck, she’d at least have her cruelty to fall back on.

“Stop it, Brit.” His voice was powerful and controlled. His heartbeat stayed steady and slow. “I don’t want to get angry with you right now, but if you keep pushing it, there’s little chance I won’t.” She pulled from his chest, and he held her gaze with his serious and calm one. When he leaned to her mouth, he kissed her gently, and when he pulled her back to his body, he spoke quietly against her ear. “You’re going to get through this, love. I promise. But you’ve got to cut yourself some slack right now. Hurting me may be a very effective way to torture yourself, but it won’t get you through this. Let me help you.” She nodded against his skin and he kissed the top of her head.

There was a knock on the door shortly thereafter, and his arms tightened and shielded her body from view as the door was cracked open slightly. It was Ember. “Tru and I are going upstairs and Quentin left a sedative on Brit’s nightstand if she needs it. Call us if you need anything. And Brit.”

Brit raised her head to peer at the slight opening in the door. “Hmm?” It’s all she could manage.

“We’re so sorry. I’m thinking of you. Please let me know if you need to talk.” Brit nodded before sinking back into the warmth of the water and Angus’ body. He gently caressed her back, and her mind wandered to hell again for a while. But he was there now to pull her back, and when he pulled the drain and kissed her temple, it was to rouse her before he carried her to bed.

* * * *

He had never felt more helpless in his entire life. Hell, he’d never been more helpless. There was nothing he could do to fix this for her, and for a man who controlled his world and his reaction to everything, that was by far one of the more infuriating things he’d ever endured. He stared at her while she slept. She was murmuring and whimpering as she tossed and turned, and he didn’t need to be in her head to know it was an ugly place to be at the moment.

He eventually turned out the lights to keep himself from staring at her any longer. It was crushing his heart to see the twitching muscles, the erratic movements of her body, and the damned pain on her face as it contorted. It was bad enough he could hear her agony in the quiet moans and cries. She’d refused to take the sedative, and she was suffering because of it.

When he pulled her into his arms in the pitch-black of his bedroom, it was nearly dawn, but his room would remain as lightless as a black void … and he would stay with her every step of the way. He’d fallen in love with her. There was no sense pretending or denying he hadn’t. He was in hell just imagining her sadness, and he wanted to kill Driscoll for her sake alone. He wanted to take her pain and suffer it for her, and he’d never wanted to hurt himself to save another so much his entire life. In fact, never in his life had he been so willing to set himself aside.

Love sucked.

He allowed his mind to wander to images of her smiling. Her smile was a rare thing, though she had shared far more with him in recent weeks than when he’d first met her. She had a sweet smile that was also seductive and pouty. Few ever got to experience it, and he loved that he was one of the precious few who had. Her smile wasn’t at all contrived though; she just had angelic features, which were often scrunched and hardened in stress, worry, and just her damn frigid attitude.

It wasn’t hard to remember her smile, but it was hard to imagine it coming back anytime soon. This was a devastating loss for her, and it was the first time he’d ever really understood what it meant to lose someone. He’d given up caring about his family when he left their lives. It wasn’t even until a century later that he’d researched their demise, and it was with nothing more than the slightest interest. But he’d gotten to know and understand Brit’s relationship, tenuous as it was with her mother. She’d shared her life with him, the agony of growing up with her mother, the humiliation and pain. But he’d also seen the sheer panic and worry that loving her mother came with.

The dichotomy was astounding to him, but he saw it so clearly in her, and he understood—not because it was his life or experience, but because it was hers, and he was now so very interconnected to her. When he knocked down her wall, when she allowed it crumble, she’d given him herself to some degree, and he was better for it. He understood the world in a way he hadn’t allowed himself to in the past. He owed her a debt he could never repay for that. Caring was painful … but so fucking incredible even in its darkest moment.

She rolled toward him, wrapping her arms around him, and when she kissed him, it was bittersweet. It felt like her lips, and it reminded him just how happy and content they could be together, but in the same breath, it reminded him just how far away that was at the moment.

She reached for his body, working her hand down to stroke his cock. The gentle touch aroused him until, sadness aside, he was ready for her. When she climbed to straddle his hips, she raised her body up on her knees, grasping the shaft of his cock and slowly lowering her pussy to him. She didn’t feel wet enough as she pushed down against the head of his cock. The head was pushing and nudging against her entry, but she wasn’t aroused, and her tight passage stopped him from passing beyond her lips. But even before he could reach to touch and arouse her body, she pushed down hard, breaking through her sheath as a strangled cry escaped her lips.

“Brit! Oh God, Brit.” His own voice was uncontrolled as he felt her body force itself down onto him. The friction was intense, and he knew she was in pain, but she wouldn’t stop as she sank onto him to her depths. “Jesus, Brit. You’re going to hurt yourself.” She lifted herself from his body, and before she could plunge down over his erection again. He stilled her hips and spoke harshly. “Don’t! You’re not ready.”

“Please.” Her plead was croaked out on a whimper. He used his spit, rubbing his shaft and stroking the wetness into her sex. He was still partially buried within her body, and as he pulled his hand away, she pushed down again. She slid tightly but easily down his length, and when she pulled up again, he didn’t stop her from plunging hard back to his groin. She lifted and dropped, letting out a gut-wrenching cry as she sank to his lap painfully over and over again. And after he let it go on longer than he ought to have, he reached for the back of her thighs and pulled her legs around to his back as he sat to face her.

She seemed startled for a moment given the sudden pause of her movements, almost disappointed that he’d slowed her and made it difficult for her to be so rough with her body. He struggled constantly not to overpower her or be too rough with her, but on this night, she was fueled with tormenting pain, and her punishing movements nearly convinced him she was trying to hurt herself very intentionally. And he wanted no part of that.

He held her tight to his body, refusing to let her go. She struggled and squirmed to break free, but he pinned her chest to his, speaking quietly in her ear. “There are a great many things I’m willing to give you, but my body so you can hurt yourself with it is not one of them. Now stop fighting me.” She relaxed in his arms, and her head sank to his shoulder. He was deep inside her body, but she’d given up her punishing strokes.

When he rolled over and pressed her into the bed gently, he kissed the indentation at the base of her neck and pushed a gentle, deep penetration into her vagina. He pulled from her tightness just to sink slowly back in. She moaned and thrust her hips up to meet his slow stroke, but the moment she did, he pulled from her completely. “Lie still.” Her hips dropped back to the mattress, and he nudged, pushing past her lips, which were now slick with need. He slipped into her wet passage, driving slowly to her core. He made love to her as she lay still and calm beneath him.

He’d never been so gentle with her, and having gotten into the habit of falling apart at her first touch every time he’d fucked her, he’d started to think it would be impossible to ever go slow. But every deliberate, inching movement sent a trill of orgasmic need radiating out through his body. That tingle faded as he pulled from her pussy, but only for a moment until he was rolling his hips gently into hers again. She started panting as he rocked their bodies back and forth, and she whined quietly as she came close to coming.

She gripped his back with an arm under each of his as she clenched and pulled forward when her release finally overtook her. She nuzzled into his neck as he groaned and came inside her, and when the gentle and sensuous release passed, he nuzzled into her neck too, listening to the quiet whooshing life pulse evenly through her carotid.

She curled into him when he rolled their bodies to face one another, and shortly after, he heard her sniffles, smelled the saltiness of her tears, and felt them fall to his chest. He pulled her tight to him, kissing her forehead, and he held her as her body shook and trembled as she silently cried herself to sleep.

He was far too wired and miserable to sleep that day, and he stared into the blank darkness in front of his eyes, listening to her soft breathing beside him. He rose in the late afternoon as the sun started to set, and spent the next couple hours trying to read. He caught himself staring at his walls, floors, and just about anything else aside from the book on his lap, and when Dr. Bremmer arrived to check on Brit, he almost hugged the man for distracting him in some small way.

Ember and Truman arrived midevening and they settled into his living room, saying nothing. They were worried about him, worried about Brit, and the heaviness of the problem they faced with Driscoll seemed to hang in the air like a fog that smothered them all.

“I could kill the man myself for what he’s done to Brit. No one needs pain, but she needs it least of all.” Ember’s voice was bitter and seething with hatred as she spoke. Ember wasn’t prone to anger or violence, and as Truman reached to her leg, resting his hand on her thigh and stroking evenly over the inside of her leg, she reached for his hand as it caressed and she squeezed it.

He wanted what they had. It was an easy relationship … once Ember remembered who he was and that she was madly in love with him. They’d always been that way from the moment they first met. Trust just fit them so well and there was never much question of it. He and Brit had a decidedly different start, but they had their own brand of easy intimacy and trust too, regardless of how much she fought him, and he denied his attachment to her in the beginning. He’d gotten under her skin so easily when all others had failed. And she had reached him too after a lifetime of emotional solitude.

When she came out of the bedroom, all eyes turned to her. She froze midstep and looked sheepishly around at them. She seemed nervous, and he stood to approach her. He wrapped his arms around her, and the others stood to leave. Ember gave her a hug and the men both kissed her cheek as they left. Once they were alone, she settled into the couch next to him with her head on his lap. He stroked her hair as she stared at the coffee table.

“I need to go see my father. I should be the one to tell him.”

He was silent for a moment as he contemplated, and she sat up to look at him. “We’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning.” She nodded and curled up next to him for the rest of the evening. Her unseeing stare never left his coffee table, and he sat patiently with her head in his lap. He read for most of the evening, and when it was late, she rolled to her back, looking up at him. He set his book on the arm of the sofa and stroked the smooth unblemished skin of her cheek.

“You need to rest. I think you should try to get some sleep.”

“Will you come to bed with me?” Her voice was quiet, pleading in an incredibly vulnerable way.

“Of course.” He stroked the hair out of her eyes, and she smiled. It was small, hesitant, but it was a smile.

Chapter 23

The sun was already showing when they left in Angus’ SUV toward Massachusetts Correctional Institution. The trip took an hour, and by the time they were there, the sun was high in the late-morning sky. When Angus said he’d wait in the car for her, she looked to him. He looked fine, but it wasn’t an overcast day, and she knew he couldn’t be comfortable, but he kissed her gently and told her to go.

It wasn’t visiting day, but under the circumstances and given her profession, she was allowed to see her father. He cried. He apologized. He begged her forgiveness. He was a sad old man now that she barely recognized anymore, and she felt sorry for him. She’d hated him for abandoning them when he was arrested, but she pitied him more than anything now.

“You get the son of a bitch that done this to your momma, Brit. Hear me?” His voice was gravely as he spoke, his light brown eyes, which matched hers so perfectly, glistened in tears. He was a train wreck of a person, but he’d always loved her mother in his own way.

She nodded but said nothing. There was nothing she wanted more in her life at the moment. But her intentions looked far different now than they did only a few weeks ago. She wanted him dead. And not in the overused, off-the-cuff statement sort of way. She wanted him truly and wholly dead and in the ground. He had no place among the living, and she didn’t much give a shit if it went against what her life had stood for all these years. Catching the bad guy didn’t sound nearly as much fun as destroying the bad guy did at the moment.

She said her good-bye quickly as she shook off her sudden need to cry, and when her father hugged her hard to his body, he spoke in her ear one more time. “You go on and get that son a bitch, girl.” She sniffed her nose as she walked out the door and dashed a lone tear from her cheek before the guard caught it.

Angus was in the car waiting for her, and she noticed immediately that he looked exhausted, and his pale skin looked mildly flushed as if fevered. For a man who looked as timeless as he truly was, it startled her. He caught the expression of concern and quickly kissed her. “I’m fine, love. I’ll be right as rain by nightfall.”

She watched him during the trip back to the city. She could tell he was uncomfortable by the set of his body. He stretched his neck unconsciously and shifted in his seat as though there was no finding comfort, and when he didn’t realize she was looking, she caught his lips pulling back in a pained grimace.

Once they were finally inside, he excused himself to the bathroom, and she heard the shower running. When she peaked in on him, feeling a bit nosy but wanting to see that he was okay, she caught the burns across his skin. His back, his chest, were marred by large patches that looked like carpet burns as though the top layers had been worn through. He caught her, and she tried for a small smile.

“Can I join you?” He’d hurt himself for her sake, and guilt was the least of what she was feeling. She was more depressed and sad than she could recall ever being and seeing him in pain on her account wasn’t helping any.

But he shook his head. “As much as I’d love that, the water’s too cool. I’ll be out in a moment.” And then seeing the concern she was trying hard but failing to hide, he continued, “I’m fine, Brit. It’ll heal.”

She waited for him, sitting cross-legged on the bathroom counter, and when he emerged, he smiled gently at her. The large patches of raw skin were already shrinking, and the furious red of the inflamed tissue was fading to pink. “What can I do? Do you need blood to heal?”

He smirked as he approached her. “Yes, dear, I do. But I won’t be taking yours. The last thing I need is you becoming a bloodsucking monster like your boyfriend and hating yourself for the rest of eternity on my account.”

There was a smack of rejection to his words that didn’t quite make sense to her, and she glanced away from him quickly. He didn’t have to worry about death, aging, threat, and the sadness she was trying so desperately to cope with. But he also didn’t have to deal with her for eternity, and perhaps he liked it that way. Her heart hurt to think that his life would be shared with people, women, someday that didn’t even exist in the world right now. He was eternal, and she was nothing more than a passing whim. He wasn’t trying to hurt her or reject her, but oddly, it felt that way.

He was studying her face. She could feel the slack muscles of her cheeks as her brain tortured her, and he was seeing it visibly play out on her features. “What’s wrong?” He reached for her cheek, trying hard to get her to look at him. But she only shook her head. Why was she doing this to herself now? Wasn’t it enough to feel the torture of losing her mother? Did she have to torture herself with the idea of losing him as well? Of course she did.

When he lay down on his bed and closed his eyes she crawled onto the bed with him. She’d never actually seen him sleep, but he looked very human at the moment, and before long, he was asleep. She studied his features, trying to let go of her very pathetic and vulnerable feelings for him. She wanted something. She wanted something that she couldn’t ask for, and the fact she felt so disposable at the moment didn’t help. She didn’t actually believe she was disposable to him. She’d given up thinking he just valued her on a purely physical level a while ago, but the fact she was mortal meant she was disposable, and it conflicted with what she wanted. What she needed now. Whether she was a passing whim to him or not made no difference. Her mind was made up, and as she watched him sleep, she contemplated many things.

* * * *

Waking up from his half sleep to her hand on his thigh was absolute heaven. She was caressing and gentle. His pain was gone, and his wounds held only the slightest of sensation signaling they were nearly healed. She moved her fingers up to his groin, encircling the shaft of his penis and squeezing. When he opened his eyes, he smiled at her.

Fuck; he was definitely still in love with her.

She watched him nervously, and he wondered where the nerves were coming from. She looked hesitant, and for a woman who’d touched and experienced every last ounce of his body, it seemed odd she should be so nervous.

She forced a smile to her mouth. “Brit, what’s wrong?” She shook her head and shrugged mildly, but there wasn’t a shred of truth to her response. She stopped him quick when she leaned to his mouth and kissed him. She trailed her mouth down along his chest, and then to his waist, and when her lips passed over his now engorged and large erection, he groaned loudly. She sank as far along his length as she could bear before pulling slowly back up.

When she stood, it was to take her clothes off, and he watched her body as it was revealed to him. His cock wouldn’t stop dancing on his stomach as he watched her. She stripped off her shirt quickly, unhooking her bra and letting it fall to the floor. She had generous breasts for her small frame and they were tight and perky at her young age. Her nipples were small and deliciously pink, and as he studied them, he reached for his erection and stroked.

When she pulled her pants and underwear down, stepping out of them quickly, his penis jumped off his stomach. Could his cock make his body move, he’d have tackled her to the floor and impaled her in a microsecond at this sight. She was stunning. She was hairless, and while he’d experienced every fashion of pubic regions over the centuries, he’d developed a new taste for this style since meeting her. Shaved had never been his thing until he met her. But she was his favorite, and he’d have had her no other way than this.

He loved seeing every last bit of her lips and mound. He loved running his hand over the smooth, soft skin, knowing her silken creamy wetness was only one stroke between her lips. He got lost in the view of her on more than one occasion and this day was no different. She climbed on the bed at his side, moving to straddle his hips. She rolled her hips into his as his cock slipped between the length of her slit, coating itself on her moisture, and when she grasped the shaft, rose to her knees, and gently pushed down over him as his cockhead pushed through to her sheath, she groaned, and he did too.

She rocked her hips, and his hands went mindlessly to clutch her hips as she moved. Her breasts bounced slightly as she humped his body, and he wanted to lean up to them, but before he could, she leaned over his body, letting her breasts nestle against his chest. She pushed back down over his length, taking him to her core, and as he groaned and his mouth fell open, her attention moved to his teeth. She’d seen them plenty, but she studied them as she moved.

She gently cupped his cheeks, and she kissed him sweetly. She pushed down hard to him and squeezed her sheath around him. It incited another guttural, responsive groan, and she traced his lips with her thumbs as he let go of his moan.

She leaned to his mouth again, still cupping his cheeks and caressing his lips with her thumbs, and on a haunting voice that would stay with him for eternity, she spoke quietly, “Sorry.”

He was confused by her apology for half a second, until he felt the subtle pop of tissue over his top fangs, tasted her blood in his mouth, and heard her pained cry erupt from her mouth. At that moment, confusion turned to all out shock. He was frozen and stunned as he realized what she’d done, and without consciously realizing what he was doing, he shoved her body harshly off his. She watched him with a stunned look on her face. She’d done it on purpose; there was no doubt about it, but she looked as shocked as he felt regardless.

“Oh, fuck, what have you done?” He was almost yelling as he turned on her pinning her to the mattress. Her thumbs were bleeding, and as he pulled them to him, he could easily see the puncture wounds in the pad of each one. She was trembling, near tears and looked terrified. He pulled both of her thumbs between his lips, sucking hard, knowing it would do little good. Their toxin was a microorganism just as small as any other and more than small enough to infiltrate her blood stream quickly and effectively. After only a moment of sucking her blood into his mouth, he abandoned it and grabbed his cell phone, calling Bremmer.

After asking him to come to his residence and disconnecting before he could even ask why, he rounded on her again. She’d sat to the side of the bed and had her back to him. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” He was still yelling. She ignored him, and he glared at her back, watching her tremble. He was livid, he was confused, and he was scared as hell.

Bremmer arrived moments later—just as Angus stood and started pacing. Bremmer stopped abruptly as he entered. “Is there a reason I’m walking into a room with you two naked for some particular reason? You’re lovely, Brit, but it’s not really my thing.”

Angus glared at Brit in response, before snarling, “Why don’t you ask Brit what she did?” He snatched up a pair of pants he’d discarded on the chair as Brit finally turned toward them, pulling the sheets up around her body. She had tears streaked down her cheeks, and she looked so helpless and upset that he nearly crumbled. But then he got hold of himself once again. She’d tricked him. She’d used him. And for the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why. She hated what they did. She hated what they depended on to survive. And yet, she’d walked headlong into turning herself into a monster she could never tolerate being.

Angus finally gave up waiting for Brit to say something. “She infected herself on my fangs. And she did it intentionally.” He was still glaring at her, and she was still crying, but now Bremmer’s mouth had dropped open. He was starring between the two of them back and forth, and her eyes were down.

“Angus, get out.”

“What? The fuck I will…” He couldn’t seem to stop yelling.

“Now. I need to see to Brit, and you need to cool down.” Bremmer held his glare, refusing to give, and after staring back for many long seconds, he gave up and stormed from the room.

The moment he slammed the bedroom door behind him, he grabbed his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Truman. “Brit’s lost her fucking mind!” And then he hung up on the man. He paced the floor around and around. What the hell was she thinking? She wasn’t ready for this! She hated what he was, even if she couldn’t stay away from him. She was too … too self-fucking righteous for this.

He stormed around his desk, throwing the French doors to his balcony open wide before stepping into the frigid, dark evening air. It was starting to snow, and it chilled his body through to stand at the railing. He looked out at the city but saw Brit’s face instead. Why did she do this to herself? She didn’t want this. It made no sense. Brit wasn’t one to fear death to the point of thinking this was the solution. She was a fighter. And this wasn’t her.

It wasn’t the first time he’d considered turning her to keep her safer, but that was his need, not her own. He didn’t want her to be miserable in his world because she couldn’t get past the monster she was going to become. She couldn’t possibly want this.

She’d tricked him. She’d used his desire to do something to herself she would without doubt regret. And now he was responsible for her—a woman who would learn to hate herself for what she’d become. He couldn’t make her okay with being a vampire. And he knew her too well to think this wouldn’t be a struggle for her.

Truman and Ember entered together as he was coming back in from the balcony, and Ember’s brow furrowed the moment she caught sight of him. “She infected herself!” He practically yelled the words at them as Ember’s mouth dropped open, and Truman stopped walking midstride.

“How?”

“She … she … used me to do it.”

Ember eyed him suspiciously before her brows rose in understanding. “You mean she seduced you and…”

“Yes!” A small smile spread across Ember’s lips before she could stifle it. “Stow it, Em or I’m kicking you out!” He was only being half-sarcastic, but it didn’t erase his utter shock and fury at what Brit had done.

“I mean … there is something of a silver lining here, Angus.” She was already being Ember. Ember was the eternal optimist, and he wasn’t ready for any of her bullshit.

“No there isn’t!”

“Would you have turned her if she asked?” She wasn’t going to let up.

“Of course not! In case you weren’t aware, it’s prohibited, and I happen to be in charge of enforcing that little mandate.”

“Well her means were perhaps unorthodox, but she sure as hell made sure no blame could fall on you.” Her hands were on her hips as she squared off with him.

“That’s hardly the point.” But she did have a point.

She cocked her head to the side, studying him. “So, you were ready to give her up? You were prepared to say good-bye to her? Are you still pretending you aren’t completely infatuated with her?” He just glared at her. He understood what she was saying. He wasn’t stupid. The part of his mind that wasn’t livid was waiting for the livid part to get over it so he could do a happy dance. The problem was it was what he wanted. He knew her too well to think she could ever want this for her own sake, and he didn’t want her miserable. Eternity was too fucking long for her to hate herself, and for him to have to watch it.

“Can’t you try to see this as a good thing?” She was incessant.

“For who, me? What about her? What about what’s best for her; what will make her happy? We’re talking about Brit … and we’re talking about eternity.” He was still fighting Ember.

“Well, you’re just going to have to trust that she knew what she was doing enough to handle this.” And she was obviously still fighting him too.

When Angus looked at Truman in complete exasperation at his wife, he shrugged his shoulders mildly. “Dude, my wife’s smart.” He was being sarcastic, and the smug smirk that crossed his face said it clear enough. He was definitely on his wife’s side of this argument.

“Dude? Really? You’re three hundred something years old. Act your age.” He was still angry, but it was ebbing finally thanks to his dear friends and their refusal to panic with him. But he wasn’t ready to give up on anger, and as he shook his head and clenched his teeth, he muttered, “She had no right to do this to me.”

“No, she didn’t. And you have every right to be upset with her about it, but this isn’t the end of the world. I don’t know why she did this. It shocks the hell out of me too, but she’s just lost her mother. She’s going through a difficult time. Go easy on her.”

“Not damn likely.” He muttered as Ember rolled her eyes in exasperation, and the moment she opened her mouth to retort again, the bedroom door opened, and Bremmer emerged. Angus’ heart lurched for a second, but Brit wasn’t with him.

“I gave her a sedative. She’s upset…”

“She’s upset?” He snapped at Bremmer.

“Yes!” Bremmer snapped back. “She seems about as shocked as you quite frankly, and I want you to stay away from her tonight. She needs her rest. The next four or five days are going to be extremely exhausting for her, and she doesn’t need you scaring the hell out of her with your damn temper. Since when do you have a temper?” He muttered the last, but his face softened, and he sighed. “Listen, I know you’re upset, and you have every right to be. I don’t know why she did this. She wouldn’t talk about it at all. But she’s my patient at the moment, and I expect you to listen to me. You can see her tomorrow morning, but I want her to rest tonight. If I have to move her to my residence, I will.” Bremmer was practically scolding him, and he relented, flopping down on the couch as the others did as well.

After what felt like an eternity of silence as they all stared into space contemplating, Truman finally spoke. “You ready for forever now, old friend?” His expression was actually quite serious.

“What choice do I have?”

“You have as much choice as you’ve ever had. How you choose to live the rest of eternity with her has yet to be decided. You’re simply responsible for her well-being, so stop being so fucking melodramatic.” His smirk was subtle. He was as serious as he was sarcastic.

Angus just shook his head in shock. He had no idea how to begin to answer that question. He loved her. But that meant nothing if she didn’t feel the same for him. And if she couldn’t accept what she’d done to herself, it would hardly help their existence together. There were far too many unanswered questions for him to have any idea how to feel. And since he was barred from seeing her, he had no choice but to wait. Patience wasn’t Angus’ strong suit. He might be controlled, though she was pushing his buttons at the moment far better than any ever had, but he was still not one for waiting. He wanted answers; he wanted to yell at her; he wanted to hear her voice and know she was okay with all of this. He just wanted to fucking see her.

It was going to be one hell of a fucking long night.

Chapter 24

When he entered the next morning, she was terrified. His expression was impassive. Cool and calm. She didn’t feel anything close to that. The sedative had kept her asleep all night, but when she woke and climbed into the shower, her muscles felt weak and her body felt fatigued. Dr. Bremmer had warned her she would feel that way until her transition was complete and she could feed to build her strength.

He’d explained a great many things to her the night before, and every last one of them terrified her. She was regretting the decision already. She was just plain scared. She’d destroyed the life she had and was left with no idea where her new life was going. And the man who was now responsible for her as her sire was waltzing across the room toward her with an unreadable expression that left her chilled.

She was curled up on the bed in only her robe. Her hair was wet, and she was shivering and felt colder than she’d ever felt before—another symptom of transition she’d been told. Being sired by Angus put her in a position she wasn’t sure she could handle. It was a bond, a responsibility he had for her, and she was expected to respect his authority. If history dictated anything, that usually ended poorly for Brit.

It wasn’t a physical bond, but it was adhered to strongly after centuries and centuries of expectation and tradition. This was going to be hard for her. She knew Angus well enough to know he was as strong willed as her; it had caused plenty of disagreement already. And as she watched him cross the room, a shudder ran through her body. What the hell had she gotten herself into?

He stopped momentarily at the thermostat, kicking it up a few degrees. “You realize you belong to me now.” His expression was cool, completely controlled, and hard to read as he approached the bed.

“I’m sorry. I know this isn’t what you wanted…” She tried to be appeasing. It’s not like she didn’t owe him an apology.

“Don’t tell me what I want.” His response stopped her cold.

“So, what does it mean then, to ‘belong’ to you?” She was almost afraid to ask. She was certainly afraid to hear the answer.

“Depends on what I want it to mean.” His words answered nothing. “How do you feel?” He was studying her impassively, looking down at her as he stood next to the bed.

“Tired.”

“Good. Then you’ll have no problem staying relaxed.” His brows shot up quickly, but his face remained an enigma.

“For what?” Did she really want to know?

“You know what.” He eyed her. It was almost seductive, but there was a hint of passive-aggressive anger lurking beneath it. She knew exactly what he was suggesting.

“So, you want to punish me with anal sex?” She was trying to sound incredulous, but her voice was as weak as her body, and even as she spoke a flush ran over her skin. She’d contemplated for some time now, and she did want it. Terrified as she was of what he wanted, she’d always wanted it to some extent with him too.

“I don’t ‘want to,’ Brit, I intend to. You owe me. If you want to call it punishment, fine, but that’s your word not mine. And the word ‘punishment’ will lose some meaning when you come with my dick in your ass. Now take that robe off and roll over.” His voice purred to her as he leaned down over her body. She was trilling with warmth that she’d given up feeling again, and she was aroused, inappropriately aroused. But she was also nervous, and when he saw it, his lips moved to her ear. “I’ve told you before, nothing I do to you will ever be meant to hurt you. Not ever. Not even now that you deserve it.” And then he stood up and his cool blue gaze held hers until she reached for the sash of the robe and pulled.

The robe dropped to her waist as his gaze traveled down her body, and when she pulled the robe open, he took a deep breath. “Can you smell the incredible scent of your body? Can you smell the scent of mine?” She could. It had come on slowly that morning after she’d awoken. First, the shower gel she was using suddenly enveloped her senses as though her head was filled with it. When she shaved her legs, she heard every last hair as it was shorn off from her skin like tiny subtle pings erupting in a cacophony as she raked the blade up her leg. When she nicked the back of her ankle, she smelled the metallic iron scent before her body even registered the pain.

She nodded to him now, and he smirked. “It’s quite an incredible scent, isn’t it? Your scent next to mine. Better than any other combination I’ve ever experienced.” His voice was slowly becoming seductive, and while his posture was still controlled and serious, his voice was warm. And she could smell him. He smelled just as amazing as he implied she did. It was a warm and enticing scent that left her body prickling for his touch.

She turned to the bed, leaving the robe where her body had been, and pushed to her hands and knees, but as he sat down beside her, he grabbed a pillow and laid it beneath her body. “Lie down.” His hand on her lower back eased her down to lay with the pillow under her groin. It propped her rear up, but kept her comfortable and relaxed. His hand slowly massaging her lower back didn’t hurt either.

He stood and undressed quickly as she watched before climbing over her body to straddle her. She could feel his cock, long and hard, against her bottom, and when he leaned over her body to speak in her ear, his arousal trailed across her skin. “You owe me an explanation.” Of course she did, but she didn’t quite know how he’d take it. Fortunately, he was more interested in kissing her shoulder and teasing her skin as he trailed his mouth slowly down her back.

He paused at the indentation of her lower back, sucking gentle kisses at the hollow of her vertebrae. “Why did you do it, Brit?” She could feel his words being spoken against her skin, and it sent a trill coursing through her body.

“I’m sorry.”

He cut her off quickly as his mouth moved against her skin. “I’m not looking for an apology. I want to know why.”

“I promise. I won’t be in your way. You don’t have to be responsible for me. We don’t have to do…”

“I like you in my way, and my responsibility for you is my choice, not yours. And we have all the time in the world to do a great many things. And we will.” His mouth returned to her skin, trailing ever lower on her back until he’d reached the top of the cleft of her butt cheeks. “You still haven’t answered my question, but unfortunately, at this point, it’s going to have to wait.” And then his fingers trailed between her buttocks until they grazed lightly over her puckered, tight anus. “Relax.”

As she loosened her muscles, she discovered she was far tenser than she realized. He was pushing her thighs out as he lay down between her legs, and he gently pulled her cheeks up and apart, exposing the most private part of her body to his eyes. She gasped and clenched, but he held tight to his grip on her bottom. “I said relax.” And she slowly did. “Now I’m going to taste you, lick you, fuck you with my tongue and anything else I want to do to your tight, little bottom.” She clenched again as she started to panic, but he again held her still. “You’re going to like it, but you’re going to have to get over your fear or you won’t enjoy it nearly as much as I want you to.” Yeah right.

When his mouth touched her exposed entry, she yelped. He licked gently over the skin as she squirmed. He never relaxed his clutch on her cheeks, holding her still and open to him as he licked, kissed, and hummed against her skin in enjoyment. He pushed his tongue past the tight opening into her bottom, and she groaned. He was right; she did like it. He thrust his tongue gently in and out as she forced her body to relax against his mouth. He laved and kissed, licked and tickled her with his tongue until her body was lulled into a most enjoyable relaxed ecstasy. She didn’t want it to ever end, but as he pulled his mouth from her, it did.

He climbed from the bed, disappearing into the bathroom before returning with a small bottle of lubricant. He sat between her legs again and when she heard the top pop off the bottle, her buttocks flinched for half a second. The liquid was cool as he parted her cheeks again and drizzled it lightly on the puckered skin of her anus. When he pushed his large masculine finger deep into her bottom, it slid gently through the lubricant, and he pushed and pulled.

He slid two fingers in as she groaned loudly, but her body was relaxed and too tired to be tense. She relaxed as his fingers plunged gently into her, and when he finally pulled his fingers out, he moved to his knees, placing them outside of her own. Her heart was pounding, and now, thanks to her hypersensitive ears, she could hear every loud, thundering beat. He hovered over her body, letting the length of his cock rest between the cheeks of her bottom, and then he leaned to her ear. “I want your bottom relaxed when I push inside you. You’ll enjoy it far more if your muscles don’t try to keep me out.”

He knelt back, and she craned her neck to watch him. Relaxing wasn’t likely to happen. He watched her as his hand gently but firmly parted her cheeks, and he nudged. She could feel his cock, slippery with the lubricant, grazing and massaging over her anus. “Say you want this, Brit. Say it, or I’ll stop.”

She did want it, but saying it was a struggle. “Please.” He cocked his head to the side, waiting for her to say what he wanted to hear. “I want this.” And then he pushed slowly past the tight ring of muscles and into her bottom. She tensed for a moment, and it radiated pain out to her body. The moment she relaxed to the steady force, he slipped through her entry and farther inside. The invasion and fullness were more intense than she imagined, and as she held his gaze over her shoulder, his jaw clenched and he let out a deep groan.

“Fuck, Brit. You feel so fucking good.”

It did feel oddly good. The pain was dwarfed by the pleasure of his full breadth. It stretched and pushed her body to some internal limit that she wasn’t even aware existed, but as her body accepted him, the pleasure pulsed straight through her groin. She wanted to come, and she was wet—unbelievably wet. His focus remained on her face, studying her expression, and the farther he pushed, the more she wanted. It sent an amazing tickle through the wall separating her vagina from her rectum and innervated every last nerve of her groin. He moved slow and steady until he was buried to his hilt inside her. There, he paused, watching her.

She pushed up to her elbows as he lowered his body to hers. She could feel his chest against her back, and his chin rested on the top of her shoulder. When his lips pulled the lobe of her ear into his mouth, she cried out. And when he released it to nuzzle his mouth against her neck, her wetness seeped and dripped to the pillow beneath her. He’d not yet moved inside her, and she was waiting for it. She was ready for it. He slipped his arms under hers, pinning her hands to the bed with his fingers laced through hers.

His hands gripping her so tightly, his mouth so close to her cheek, and his body hugging hers closely were more intimate than she imagined this ever could be. And then he moved. The first time, he pulled only slightly out before rolling his hips against her bottom. The second time, he pulled a bit farther from her body before pushing back in, and each penetration after became more pronounced. “Does it hurt?” His voice was warm against her ear as he continued to grind and hump her bottom.

It wasn’t without pain anymore than making love to him was, and it was an intensity she hadn’t imagined. But neither of those things took from the pleasure that was coursing through her. “No.” She was whispering as she turned toward him to speak, and when he pushed deep into her, he caught her lips with his. He stayed buried as he claimed her mouth, sucking her lips between his, and when he released them, he returned to pushing and grinding into her.

“Are you ready to come?” She nodded, and he released one of her hands, pushing his hand down and around her stomach to her pussy. He gripped her, parted her lips, and plunged his finger inside her clenching, tight sheath. She groaned at the added pressure it placed on her bottom, but then he started rubbing her clit with the pad of his thumb, and she started to fall apart.

Her shoulders shook before finally collapsing, and she dropped to the bed. His mouth moved to the nape of her neck and kissed while her stomach muscles started to quiver and clench. Her breath was lurching and her groans were too. His thrusting sped, and while controlled, it was forceful and swift. He was humming against her neck as he sucked kisses at the base of her neck. He let his fangs rake over her skin as he pushed and pulled. Her orgasm finally took her over, and his erotic humming sounds turned to groaning to all out growling when she reached and passed over her release. He hit his peak at nearly the same time and pulsed inside her body. His fingers that were tightened on hers, clenched down hard as he pushed his final strokes into her rectum, and the fingers of his other hand remained buried and still in her pussy.

As he pulled slowly from her body, it sent spasms through her lower back, and he whispered quietly in her ear as he eased from her. “Relax. Now’s not the time to tense up. That was amazing, love.” Yes it was.

He released her hand and his hold on her sex before quickly slipping the pillow from beneath her stomach. He pulled her into his arms as she rolled to face him. Her body was exhausting by the second, and she was more tired than she thought possible. He was relaxed and his aggression had faded. “Tell me why.”

She felt her lips tremble as she relived the emotion behind her rash decision. The tears pricked at the back of her eyes, and her throat restricted and burned. She wanted to fall apart with him and share it with him. She’d wanted to since the moment she felt his teeth impale her skin and the look of furious terror pass over his usually calm features. And on a hitching breath that was primed to break down in sobs at any second, she gave him her explanation.

“I want to kill him.” And then the sobs took her away, and she crumpled to his chest as his arms tightened around her. He soothed her with quiet shushing sounds. She was crying like a child again—a pathetic, lonely, little girl who had no one to tell her it would be okay. But he was there. And at the moment, he didn’t even really appear to hate her too much for what she’d tricked him into doing. “I needed to be stronger. I needed to be like you.” She was still talking quietly against his chest.

“Look at me.” His voice was gentle, but as she watched his brow flinch, her heart sank a notch. He was going to say something she wasn’t going to like. She could see it in his eyes. “I’m sorry, sweetie. But I can’t let you go after him. I wouldn’t have let you go up against him as a human. Why would now be any different?” His voice was calm, but his words were the last thing she wanted to hear.

“Because I was human. You wouldn’t have wanted me to risk myself because I was human.” She was gaping at him, and she could feel that her features were harsh and scrunched up. This was not happening the way she wanted.

“No, Brit, I wouldn’t have let you risk yourself because you’re you. That hasn’t changed.” The look in his eyes said he felt guilty. He knew he was breaking her heart, shutting down her entire drive, but whatever guilt she saw in his eyes, didn’t stifle her anger one ounce. Driscoll’s death was her driving force now, and he wasn’t going to stand in her way.

*

It’s not as though he didn’t understand retribution; he got it. She deserved it, and he wanted her to have it, but Driscoll’s death would have to be enough. And it was not going to be at her hands. She might be immortal, but it did not mean she was infallible. And he couldn’t lose her. Especially not now. Forever had a chance, and he wasn’t going to risk it. Unfortunately, forever was a pipe dream if she hated him.

She climbed from bed as he watched. She wasn’t happy, and he watched her walk away, wanting her to be back in his bed. What they’d done had been incredible. More than incredible. And then it fell apart.

When he entered the bathroom, she was in the separate toilet room. She was still human enough to need that, but not for long. He started the bath, and the moment she exited, he approached her. She looked leery. “I don’t want to fight. Can we just talk more about this later? After you’re through your transition?” His hands were on her shoulders as he spoke.

She nodded but stayed silent. He didn’t trust her silence. She was used to living her life as she chose, and even in her most vulnerable times with him, she carried herself with strength, ready to fight at any moment. He had no doubt she’d keep from him anything she didn’t want him to know, like just how much she wanted to murder her mother’s killer. He led her to the bath, and she climbed in and he followed. He pulled her into his arms before he soaped a washcloth and started running it over her skin.

“Your next few days are going to be exhausting for you. And at the end, you’re going to have to feed. How do you feel about that?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Can I do what Ember does?” His cock instantly pulsed and hardened. She glanced down, and he looked away shaking his head in exasperation at his own weakness for her.

No sense hiding it. “Obviously, my dick would love it if you chose to do that.” He smirked, and she offered a small smile, restrained, but there. He reached for her mouth with both hands, pushing her top lip up to see her teeth with his thumbs. “Touch your pussy.” She gasped, and he looked to her eyes. “Go on.” Her hand moved between her legs, and his cock brushed up against her hand as she stroked over her clit. “How does that feel?”

“Good,” she whispered on an aroused voice.

He smirked at her. “I mean your jaw.”

She blushed furiously, and she glanced from him in embarrassment. “Um … it aches actually. Feels like someone punched me.”

“Arousal and blood will stimulate your fangs once they’re ready. Until you learn to control it, those will be the best ways to get you ready to feed. I think arousal will work best for us.” He smirked again. He was really quite intrigued about her transition, and if he thought she’d actually let go of her completely understandable desire to kill Driscoll, he could likely enjoy this all the more.

“Can I eat? I mean, I’m hungry. Really hungry.”

“Now that you’re transitioning, it wouldn’t be a good idea. It will likely make you sick. Your intestinal tract is shutting down, and eventually, it will be empty and retired for eternity. You’re hungry because you’re already craving blood. Until your fangs are ready, you’ll just have to bear it. I promise, the moment you’re ready, I’ll feed you.” She nodded. She looked nervous.

“Will there be an actual time that I die?” She was more than nervous as she asked this question.

He held her cheeks in his hands. “Not really. Your heart will continue to beat, but the beat will change. The scales will continue to tip until the toxin takes over the oxygenated blood and your body stops trying to oxygenate the deoxygenated blood. There won’t be an actual time of human death. The transition is considered complete once your fangs are in and can protract. But you’ll continue to build strength as you feed, though not as much strength if you only feed from me.”

“Will you get in trouble for turning a human?”

“Well technically you turned yourself.” He chuckled. “I’m supposed to kill you. But seeing as those decisions are made by me, and I quite enjoy fucking you so much, I’ve decided to let it slide.” She cocked her head to the side. “Each region mandates its own. It’s a rule, but our rules are managed by us, and so long as our numbers aren’t really increasing, I can see no reason to worry too much about it.”

Her gaze flitted from his, and she said nothing for a while. He had his own questions to ask, and he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer yet, not this soon. “Can you live like this? Can you be happy?”

Her attention snapped back to him. She looked lost, confused, completely and utterly unsure. She shrugged, and he pulled her down to his chest before she broke his heart. She had to be able to handle this because he couldn’t lose her now. “Give it time.” It was all he could say, and as she nuzzled into his neck, it was enough. She was close, she was safe, she wasn’t fighting him at the moment, and could she be content with him, he’d be a happy man. A very, very happy man.

Chapter 25

The hunger was going to kill her. The fatigue and exhaustion were bearable, but the hunger? Come the first evening of her transition after her morning foray into interesting things to do with your booty, she could barely handle it. Her jaw was aching madly, and she kept feeling her teeth to see what was there. A whole lot of nothing. She wasn’t looking forward to eating, but at the same time, her body was so ravenously hungry, she couldn’t wait. She didn’t quite know what she was waiting for … just satisfaction from the unbearable need to feed.

When she crawled from bed and dragged herself from the bedroom, she found she was alone. She ended up collapsing on the sofa and waiting, staring at the ceiling high above. She wanted to be done with this already. She infected herself to strengthen herself, give herself the ability to fight back, destroy the monster who killed her mother, but she felt more human than even humans felt. It was hard to lift her arm, move her body forward, and she imagined sinking into the weightlessness of a warm bath constantly. The constant chill in her body made the exhaustion feel all the worse.

Angus walked in with Dr. Bremmer sometime later. She had no idea how long it had been since she’d stumbled from the bedroom as she’d fallen asleep yet again, but it was still dark and no doubt late into the night. She tried to sit, but it was such a struggle she slumped back down. Angus moved quickly to her side and helped her rise.

It was still odd to her at times to see him this way. It wasn’t hard to recall how they’d treated one another when they’d first met. He toyed with her incessantly, and she fought him with the same vigor. He still knew how to toy with her, and she sure as hell still knew how to fight him, but it was different. His eyes were still seductive when they watched her, but it was such a familiar and intimate seduction now. She still stood up for herself, but it didn’t always need to be spoken. He could tell by the look on her face what she was thinking, and their eyes communicated as easily as their words.

He intimidated her in a far different way now. Before, he intimidated her because she couldn’t control him. Nothing she did had any real effect on his actions. But now, he intimidated her because she was living in his world. She was a pathetic newbie, and there was no denying she needed his guidance. Brit didn’t like guidance, dependence, or attachment. But, she felt all those things for him. And it was terrifying because she wanted to feel them.

Dr. Bremmer sat on the coffee table in front of her as Angus let her rest against his body. “Angus says your jaw is hurting. That’s a good sign. But no teeth yet?” She shook her head.

“I’m really hungry too. Like I could devour a buffet line.”

“Well if you did, you’d regret it. Your GI tract is changing significantly right now. It no longer has any interest in food or anything with bulk, and your stomach has lost its ability to pass food into your intestinal tract. So, if you eat, it will not stay down.” Dr. Bremmer looked at her sympathetically as he spoke. But then turning to Angus he continued, “You can try giving her your blood. She won’t get much without teeth, but it might lessen the hunger until she’s through her transition.” Angus nodded, and Dr. Bremmer turned back to her once again. “Now back to bed. I’ll check on you again tomorrow.” She nodded as Dr. Bremmer stood.

Once Angus had helped her back to bed and bumped the thermostat up again, she listened as the warm air started pushing from the vents. He crawled in beside her, pulling her back to his front and nuzzling into her neck. She heard the soft sound of his teeth sinking into his skin, and then he was holding his thumb up to her mouth. The small spot of blood where he’d punctured the pad of his thumb was in front of her lips and she could smell the metallic scent of it. His blood smelled oddly like him as though somehow unique to him alone, and she wanted to taste it. She also wanted to be revolted by the thought of it. The problem was, she wasn’t at all revolted.

“Taste it.” His voice was warm as he encouraged her with his lips at her ear. She opened her mouth and pulled his thumb between her lips, sucking. He tasted like his scent. It was salty, metallic, and masculine, and the moment she swallowed, her body relaxed and the uncomfortable hunger subsided. It wasn’t enough by a long shot, but as she sucked and licked at the pad of his thumb, it eased her body. He was quietly humming against her ear.

His hold on her body was gentle but firm and her lazy and tired body took what it could from him as he kissed and nuzzled her neck. The occasional quiet moan and purring sound he made was relaxing and soothing. His mouth was on her neck, and his teeth were grazing over the sensitive skin of her neck. She could feel the points of his fangs raking her skin, she could hear them scraping, and she wanted to feel his teeth in her. She wanted him to bite her. What made it so erotic and desirable, she had no idea, but she wanted it.

But he didn’t break her skin. He held her, enjoying what her mouth was doing to nothing more than the pad of his thumb, and her body was lulled gently into sleep as his blood strengthened her.

* * * *

He caught her naked in the bathroom the next morning with her lip pulled up, poking at her gum. When she saw him, her hands dropped and she started nervously biting her lip. He walked, just as naked as her, to stand behind her and kissed her on the shoulder. “Whatcha lookin’ at?”

“I thought … I mean … I saw teeth. I know I did, but then they were gone. It hurt.”

He chuckled. “Hmmm. And what exactly were you thinking about to incite such a thing?” Her gaze shifted from his in embarrassment. Oh yeah. She’d been thinking about something arousing. “Well let’s just see if we can’t make them protract again, shall we?” He reached around her waist, letting his hand drop to her pussy. He slid a finger into her as she gasped, and as her mouth dropped open, he watched.

Beautiful white fangs, the perfect size for her delicate small mouth, pushed down as she groaned at the pain. “Ow.” She said the word, but it was quite obvious she was far too mesmerized with her new teeth to much care. He left his finger in her body, gently wiggling it and thrusting it to keep her aroused, and he watched over her shoulder.

“Well, don’t you look exceptionally cute with canines?” And she did. Hot was more the word he was looking for, and he was already anxiously awaiting those teeth sinking into his body. She looked nervous, and her brow furrowed as she looked at herself. She reached up, stroking the tooth, and when her tongue met the tip of one, his cock was suddenly wide awake.

“Should I feed now?” Her voice was quiet and unsure.

“I’d like that very much.” God he was ready for this. He’d never allowed a vampire to feed from him. This would be a first for him too, much like her finger up his ass was. He’d enjoyed that far too much not to want more firsts with her. “I’m sure you’re tired of being in bed at this point, but … back to bed.”

He pulled her between his legs as he lounged against the headboard. Her back was against his chest, and he held her tight in his arms for a few minutes. He could hear her heart racing. It still beat at a fairly human pace, and it was thudding away loudly. He was nervous too. He rested his chin on her shoulder as he held her, and she rested her cheek against his temple. It was so incredibly intimate, and he wondered how it was he went so many centuries without this connection to anyone. He couldn’t imagine giving it up now.

“Are you nervous?” His voice was quiet against her cheek. He already knew the answer, but she nodded. “What are you worried about?”

She turned slightly too him, brushing her cheek up against his. “I guess that I might hurt you. That … I’ll hate it. I know I’m changing, but this … well it kind of brings it home a bit.”

“I’m sure it does.” He kept his voice warm and soothing. “You won’t hurt me. And you’re programmed to love this … even if you think that’s impossible.” He kissed her sweetly on the cheek. “Now what are we going to have to do to get those fangs protracted again?” He gave her his best seductive voice, and as soon as he palmed her sex, pushing his finger to his knuckle within her tightness, she moaned quietly. He kissed her neck, running his tongue gently across her skin to the base of her neck where he kissed her again. He gently and slowly thrust his finger in and out of her body, and when she turned to look at him, he could see the tips of her canines peaking past her lip. She was ready.

When he held his free wrist in front of her, she froze. “Come on, love. You can do this.” He kept stroking slowly in and out of her body to keep her nerves from winning her teeth over. He needed them fully protracted and ready. She reached to his wrist gripping it in her hand and as she raised it to her lips, she stilled again. “Now, Brit.” It might have been an order, but his voice was soothing. He was giving her permission to bite him, take from him, cause him pain.

“Oh God.” Her words came out on a painful sigh, and he shushed her with his lips to her ear.

And then she bit. He groaned loudly. “Fuck.” He couldn’t hold the word in as her sharp teeth crunched into his skin. Pain radiated up his arm, and his groan was his fight not to pull away. She cried out when she heard the pain in his reaction, but he quickly held his place against her back, so she couldn’t pull away as he spoke through gritted teeth. “Don’t stop.” She whimpered, and he dropped his forehead to the base of her neck, willing the muscles in his arm to relax against the sharp teeth. His hand had stilled in her pussy, and he started thrusting again as his muscles slowly released their tension, and when he encouraged her to suck, she did. Once the pain of her teeth faded, the sensation of her mouth on his wrist took over, and it was incredible. It left a cool tickle running up his arm as she pulled the blood from his vein. “Good girl.” He was murmuring as he kept his forehead against her neck.

He was aroused and his cock was high between their bodies. She pulled and sucked and drank from his body until her lips loosened and she pulled her teeth gingerly from his arm. He slipped his finger from the tight sheath of her sex, sucking it clean. She turned to him immediately, licking her lips subconsciously. She was worried, and he smiled at her concern. Couldn’t help himself. Her skin was suddenly flushing and vibrant. His blood obviously agreed with her body. “I can see why Truman enjoys this so much.”

She looked incredulous for a moment. “I hurt you! You didn’t enjoy it!”

“The hell I didn’t.” He was trying for seductive, but he couldn’t wipe the shit-eating grin off his face. He chuckled. “It’s not like I haven’t been bitten before, but never quite like that. Having to get used to your teeth staying in my skin, that was a challenge, but it felt incredible once I did.” She didn’t look like she believed him. Change of subject. “How did you like it? Was the taste as awful as you thought it would be?”

She shook her head. “No.” She said nothing else, but the shy, embarrassed look on her face, gave her away. She liked it, a lot, and frankly, so did he.

“I could definitely get used to that.” He was still murmuring, feeling a slight tingle running through his body. She’d not taken enough blood to hurt him, but he could feel it in the light buzzing that was pulsing through his body. It was hypnotic and soothing. Oh yeah, he could definitely get used to that.

He lay down, pulling her down with him. “What do you mean you could get used to that? Do you expect me to feed from you?”

“I mean, if you didn’t want to hunt, I would be okay with you feeding from me instead. Ember and Truman do it. She’s never taken a life, and she won’t.”

“Truman and Ember are married.” Her voice was quiet and bordering on accusatory. Did she think marriage was some sort of prerequisite for such an arrangement? Maybe she was right to have such an expectation—to allow herself to be so dependent on another.

“I’m aware of that. Brit, I’m not going anywhere. I sired you, even if that wasn’t my choice…” He caught himself muttering.

“Yes well that’s my point. It’s like the girl who gets pregnant to keep her boyfriend around.” Her Britness was creeping into her tone, and he wasn’t happy to hear it—not right now at any rate.

“Well thank God we don’t have to worry about that.” He smirked, but she didn’t take the bait.

“I didn’t do this to keep you around.” The words would have taken his breath away if he actually needed air to live. It’s not as if he didn’t understand her reasons, but having it spelled out for him and made clear that he wasn’t even a thought in her mind when she made the decision hurt. It hurt in a very real, powerful and human way.

“I’m well aware of that. But thanks for the reminder.” He threw the covers aside, grabbed his pants from the chair, and stalked from the room. She didn’t stop him, and as he sank down in his desk chair, it became apparent she wouldn’t be following him.

*

Why had she done it? Why had she hurt him? The moment he mentioned Truman and Ember it sent a shiver through her body. Truman and Ember were real. There was nothing more real than their relationship. She should be happy the man she loved was willing to attach himself to her in such a way, but it smacked of rejection, and she didn’t understand why.

She couldn’t tell him that she’d tricked him into infecting her for him because it wasn’t true. It was about Driscoll. It was about her driving need to see this thing through with him, and that drive hadn’t lessened an ounce. The suggestion she should attach herself to Angus by becoming so dependent on him was in one breath enticing, but in the next, she saw forever with a man who didn’t do forever. He’d given her no reason to think that had changed other than the simple fact he’d sired her and had to be responsible for her. She ended up feeling hurt even as she said the words that she knew would hurt him.

What the fuck was she doing?

Her body was suddenly awake, strong and full of angst that she couldn’t stow. She’d slept nearly around the clock for over two days, waking only long enough to let Angus fuck her or cuddle her or bathe her. It had all been exceptionally comforting, but it was contrived. He had to be here for her. And she wanted him to want to be here for her.

But how long did she have with him? He may want her submission, her dependence on him, and she may want him to want more, but she couldn’t ignore that in the end, did it matter? If she was given the chance to destroy Driscoll, there was nothing that would stop her. Not even her blessed sire. And what were the chances she’d survive it? She’d be lucky if she could destroy the man before he destroyed her, but she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to try.

That came with its own heartbreak. She wasn’t ready to say good-bye to Angus. Given the choice, she never would let him go. But she had to finish it. And it likely meant her end. She might have a chance, far more of one than she did as a human, but she wasn’t invincible; Angus had said as much himself. She was surprised to feel a tear trickle down her cheek. She wasn’t even aware she could still cry, and as she sniffed her way through the heartache, she crawled from bed.

The reflection looking back at her in the bathroom mirror looked remarkably normal. Her skin was pale, but she’d always been. She finally looked awake. She certainly didn’t feel fully charged by any stretch, but she was starting to feel strong again—more than strong.

When she sought him out, he was sitting at his desk with his feet propped up on the top. He was shirtless and his hands were clasped on his stomach. He looked relaxed, but his serious expression that was staring at the ceiling told a different story. Brit’s guilt clutched her heart as she crossed the room to him, but when she reached him, he looked at her. He reached to her hand, and he pulled her down to his lap as he dropped his feet to the floor.

“We have no good excuse for being good at this, none.” His voice was soft and his expression caring and gentle. “Caring about someone other than myself…” He shook his head without finishing his statement. “And God knows you are literally the world’s biggest bitch.” He looked at her with a sweet smirk, and she couldn’t help but smile. “But we are good at this. I don’t care why.” He pulled her mouth to his as tears pricked her eyes.

He was right. There had never been two people more wrong for one another. But they just worked for some odd reason. They kept trying to screw it up every which way they could, but it was hopeless. She couldn’t stay away from him, and apparently, she had some hold over him too. Maybe he could love her someday … if she survived that long. And if he did love her, maybe she could give him forever, her submission, her dependence. It didn’t fit her—not by a long shot. But it sure seemed to fit them.

Chapter 26

“So whenerya comin’ back, kiddo?” Humphreys looked like he always did, smelled like he always did, and thanks to her very powerful nose, that smell was magnified tenfold. But his eyes had an odd kindness to them. She hadn’t ever truly believed the man hated her, but he was as big a dick as she was a bitch. It was just who they were, or at least who they’d been.

She stared into her coffee mug, kicking herself for ordering it when she should have realized what a taunt it would be to her senses. She missed coffee.

Nearly two weeks had passed since her mother died, and it had been over a week since she’d transitioned. This was the first time she’d been asked this question. Hell, the first time she’d even contemplated what her answer might be. “I don’t know.” She looked up to him, seeing his gruff expression studying her.

It was dark out and the diner where they’d met was empty. When Humphreys called, she’d cringed. She didn’t know what to say to the man. And now, sitting across from him, she was still clueless. She hadn’t told Angus she was meeting with him, and she’d intentionally chosen a time when she knew he would be out of the building. He and Truman were meeting with the man, Aaron, who Angus wanted to step in and fill Langford’s place. She knew he’d be gone for some time, and she preferred it that way. Brit wanted to share her life with Angus, but she wasn’t ready yet. Until Driscoll was gone, there would be no moving forward for them.

It had taken her days to realize it was at the core of their problems—every disagreement, every conflict seemed to circle right back around to Driscoll; at least hers did. He would never let her risk her life to bring the man down, and she could never give up that fight. And so she hid it from him, hating the lie. She wanted to be out at night alone, or at least without her entourage of fellow vampires. She wanted to be exposed and vulnerable to Driscoll. He’d singled her out when he’d killed her mother just to fuck with her, and she knew he was close. He might be a drug addict, but he was smart too. And he was vindictive as hell. Almost as much as she was.

Angus would be furious if he knew she was out alone, and there was still a chance he’d find out. The valet, Jonathan, watched her comings and goings, and she never knew when Ember might show up to say hi. It could all easily get back to her ward. Funny thing was, she loved the ward. And she’d give him all the control and dependence he needed were it not for the problem of Driscoll. She was just as anxious to be rid of the murderer for her and Angus’ sake as much as anything. She wanted more. She wanted a life with him. It was impossible to imagine any part of this new existence without him in it. Whether it was possible at all, she had no idea, but she at least wanted the chance. But there was no chance until…

She jumped in her seat as a horn blared from across the street. Humphreys watched her with his brow furrowed and he squinted. He must think she was losing it. She kind of was.

“What the hell you mean you don’t know? What kinda shit answer is that?” He wasn’t happy. And she almost smiled at just how Humphreys he was in his anger at her.

“I just don’t know yet what I want to do.” She wanted him to understand. She felt guilty. She felt guilty for every last thing that had happened in her life recently and abandoning her job was just one of many.

He sighed, blowing his stale cigarette breath in her face as she tried not to scowl at him for it. When he tossed money on the table and stood to leave, she did too. They walked silently from the dirty old diner with its linoleum tile floor and glaring fluorescent lights. It wasn’t a pleasant place, but what did Brit care? She didn’t have to worry about eating the roach-infested food that Humphreys appeared to enjoy immensely. The whole thing would be a bit heartwarming, if she still had a normally functioning heart … or enough warmth to feel.

They stopped out front of the building on the sidewalk, and he paused, turning to her. “Brit, I need ya back at work. No one cares that you’s been gone. Hell, girl, they understand it plenty. But it’s time now.” She looked away from him as tears stung her eyes. She wanted to go back too. Go back six months and rewrite it all … except maybe meeting Angus. She couldn’t give him up anymore than her mother had ever been able to give up drugs. He shook his head before turning his back on her and walking away. She stared after him and her old life as it walked away.

She’d parked a number of blocks away, and as she turned the opposite direction, the cold bit through her coat to her flesh. The chill hadn’t left her after transition, and she now only truly felt warm and content when Angus bumped the thermostat up for her and she was curled up in his arms. Exhaustion, however, was most definitely a thing of the past. Her body was practically hyperactive; her strength astounded her, even though she was only feeding from Angus. But she sure didn’t feel invincible. Quite the opposite. She knew she was a sitting duck when she was outside their building. She was counting on it, in fact.

But she was prepared. She kept a knife on her ankle and her gun at her hip. Would it be enough? If she was lucky. She didn’t want to die, though Angus likely wouldn’t see her obsession with killing Driscoll that way. She was just driven. She was just being Brit. It was what she did, and she couldn’t give up that obsessive drive. Not yet.

When she climbed into her car, the windows were frosted over. She started the car, turning the defroster up full force, trying to wait patiently for the windows to clear. But as a fist careened through the driver’s side window, and her neck was clutched by the hand, she tried to cry out. The hand squeezed tight across her throat, restricting her voice to nothing more than a choked, garbled sound before yanking her body from the car in one swift move through the now shattered window.

The shadowed figure that held her with nothing more than her tiptoes touching the pavement was grunting like an animal. Brit started fighting. Her arms were flailing toward the man, but she could only see him from her periphery, and she couldn’t reach far enough to fight back. She darted her hand to her hip to clasp the gun that was on her hip, but he was faster, stronger, and she was just too late. He yanked it from the holster, laughing a maniacal sound that made it clear this assault was just as much pleasure as it was driven by any particular need.

“Trying for this?” He dangled her handgun in front of her face as she tried desperately to pry his hands from her neck. It was no use, and as he finally set her down and released her neck, she scampered back to the side of her car. He was holding the gun trained on her, and instinctually her hands rose. When her eyes met Driscoll’s, he smirked. It was sick and demented, and she started to panic at nothing more than the crazed animal look in his eyes.

When he pulled the trigger and discharged the gun, she felt the pain of the bullet as it tore through her side, lodging in her abdomen at the same moment as she heard his laughter. And as she sank against the side of her car from the pain, she watched as he doubled over in laughter. She knew it wouldn’t kill her in her new form, but it sure as hell didn’t stop it from hurting more than any pain she’d ever felt. As his crazed giggling tapered off, he glared at her, and as his lips pulled up in another sneer, he discharged her sidearm two more times in rapid succession. One bullet tore through her arm, thunking against the car door behind her. The other, lodged in her shoulder, making her arm virtually useless, and she rolled to her side and tried to crawl away.

When his hand clutched and yanked her up from her hair, she squealed in pain. “You’re mother was so much more fun than you. I had planned to pump you full of a fucking pharmacy before draining you, but now … I see you’re a fucking vampire. Since you ruined that plan for me, I’m just going to have to torture you for a while before I tear that fucking head of yours off. At least your mother was loaded when I drained her.”

Hard to imagine fury was possible in her terror, but she was livid. She kicked, she shrieked, and she fought like hell, feeling the skin rip from her scalp as she twisted and pulled against his hand. He was dragging her, and she was seething in furious anger and pain, but he wasn’t done tormenting her. “Fucking strung-out bitch that one. The world should thank me for getting rid of another worthless whore. Well within my rights to destroy the dregs of the earth.”

“Keep telling yourself that, asshole.” Her voice was a grunting, garbled mess as he dragged her across the pavement. She could feel her pants tearing through, and the cold snow, dirt, and water from the pavement was against her skin as it burned her hip. “You’re killing sick people, you stupid fuck. You’re an addict as much as any one of them.”

That earned her a swift kick in the gut, but he let loose her hair, and after she rolled to her back, she scampered away from him. It was useless of course, and as his body came down on top of hers, she started hitting. Another fist to her cheek later, and he was back in control, pinning her hands to the ground as the slush from the road soaked into the entire backside of her clothing.

“And what’s wrong with my enjoying the hunt, huh? What right do you have, do any of them have, to judge me?”

She was fighting hard to free her hands, but it didn’t stop her mouth from fighting back too. “How about the fact”—her voice was lurching and grunting as she tried to spit the words out—“that you’re a fucking lunatic who thinks killing sick drug addicts is helping the world. Just a fucking excuse to get high from them.” She was spitting her words at him as she kept trying to fight. She could feel the bullet lodged in her side, but she couldn’t stop fighting him. It hurt every time a muscle moved, but she wouldn’t stop, couldn’t stop. Apparently, even vampires had adrenaline.

Every fist she landed was met with a far stronger one to her body, and when one landed to her gut, pushing the bullet that was lodged in her gut into countless different organs and pain centers, she groaned and tried to roll to her side. She was gasping, but while she didn’t need air, she couldn’t seem to stop trying to take more in. This monster was kicking her ass, and it was pissing her off as much as it was terrifying her.

When he grabbed the hair at the top of her head again, she managed to land a solid fist to his gut, and the moment he flinched, she used her legs and hips to throw his mass over her head. Unfortunately, though it moved his weight from her, it did not lose her hair from his twisted fist, and as he was thrown, she was pulled, painfully.

She rolled quickly to her stomach, pulling her legs and feet up under her body to crouch, ready to pounce. His hand was still twisted in her hair, and when she dropped down to the ground and swept his leg out from under him, he finally released his grip, and he went sailing backward to land with a thud on his back. Her hand instinctually went to the top of her head as the pain seared through her scalp, but just as she reached up, another hand came from nowhere to grasp her arm, bend it hard down to her upper back, snapping her shoulder out of place.

The pain was blinding, and as she dropped to her knees as the shock of the agony pulsed through her body and left her feeling like she was dying, a new voice spoke. She remembered his voice from the last time she’d met him. Langford.

“That’s enough playtime, Driscoll. Get her in the car and stop fucking about with her.” Langford’s words were short and he sounded annoyed.

When Driscoll approached her again, he was clicking his tongue and shaking his head. His grin was half-lascivious and half-vindictive. He dragged her to a car sitting close by, and as Langford slid into the backseat, Driscoll pulled a pair of cuffs from his pocket, clapping one on her wrist before yanking it behind her back to cuff to her other wrist. Her shoulder was out of socket and being anchored behind her back was more pain than she thought she could handle.

She was mewling like a dying animal, and she heard herself begging them for mercy in her head, but she stayed silent. She refused to beg, and as the anguish continued to pummel her senses, she started retching and threw up blood on the pavement before he shoved her in the backseat next to Langford.

“Why are you doing this?” Her voice was shaking and blood was dripping from her lips as she spoke to Langford. She was leaning forward with her head down. She didn’t want to move, and she wasn’t going to give the man the satisfaction of looking at him.

“Why don’t you ask your fucking boyfriend? This is his fucking fault. Should have left well enough alone and let me deal with my own fucking family. Instead, he just had to get involved. Since you came along, all he does is your bidding. He should have offed you to shut you up; instead, he started fucking you. You want to point a finger, I suggest you point it at him.” His voice was calm as he spoke, flat, and almost … professional as though he was speaking in a boardroom to his minions. But when he slammed his fist into the side of her face, sending it into the door beside her and further straining her shoulder as her neck snapped to the side, she cried out loudly, and he chuckled as he shook his hand.

“So this is how you’re going to win the support of the council? You’ve lost your fucking mind.” She was speaking to the floor with her head resting against the door. She couldn’t sit without the bullet moving or her shoulder pulling farther against the socket it wasn’t currently anchored in, and frankly, she was trying hard not to lose it.

“You think I give a fuck about the council? As though it weren’t enough to be completely fucked over for a bitch, I’m being bumped from my position … but I’m guessing you already know that.” Driscoll had pulled into traffic as they were speaking and every bump, pothole, divot left Brit thinking she was going to lose her mind from the pain. Being a vampire didn’t stop pain, it simply kept her from dying from it. Under the circumstances, she wasn’t sure that was such a good thing. She was losing this fight. However strong she had felt she was in comparison to her human form, it was nowhere near strong enough to beat two male vampires who were fully fed. She might just be fucked.

“You know you’re a dead man, Langford. You’ve pretty much guaranteed yourself that fate.” Another fist to the side of her face, and the tendons and ligaments in her shoulder strained even more as her shoulder joint was separated even further. She grunted at the pain, cursing loudly. “Fuck!” She knew she wasn’t helping herself any, but she was reasonably sure she was going to die before the end of the night, and she was equally certain there was nothing she could say or do to get out of it.

“Angus would never have let his dick do his thinking for him were it not for you, and I don’t appreciate the fact he’s made decisions based on the human world over our own. I don’t give a shit that you’re now a vampire and he’s your sire. He’d have chosen you over us regardless of the fact he sired you. That’s why this is happening. You hold no sway over us, and you shouldn’t have been allowed to survive transition. He’s breaking the rules he’s supposed to uphold. I see it as my right, hell duty, to hold his feet to the fire.” His voice never rose above a calm, conversational tone as he spoke.

Driscoll had yet to say anything, but as she sat up straight, his cold, taunting stare found her in the rearview mirror. He smirked. She wanted to reach up and tear his head off and were her hands free, she wouldn’t hesitate. They pulled up in front of Langford’s building, and she was pulled out of the backseat by Driscoll. He punched her in the gut just for fun as she dropped to her knees. “Fuck!” She was in pain. Cussing wasn’t helping, but it kept her from breaking down into sobs, which is exactly what she wanted to do. She wasn’t ready to die, and she sure as hell wasn’t ready to lose Angus. It was a depressing and dark thought lurking in the periphery of her mind. She was pushing it away with her fury and pain, but it was there—the devastation of it all.

She was dragged by her forearms, hyperextending her shoulder farther to the point she thought it might rotate completely. She started retching again as she was drug, and her arm felt as though it was being torn off. When her head started feeling faint, she started praying vampires could pass out. It would be the only reprieve aside from death that would save her from this pain, and she couldn’t tolerate it much longer. The pain left her feeling as though she was losing her mind. It was disturbing in its effect on her brain. It left her wanting to die and ready to meet her end.

As she was pulled over the threshold, she didn’t even fight. It was some imaginary line between living and dying for her, and her eyes suddenly teared at the thought. She so desperately didn’t want to lose Angus yet. This was her fault. She’d done this. Her hell-bent-on-revenge pain put her in this position, and she was going to be the cause for the end with him. It was heartbreaking. If she’d been any other woman in the world, she’d have been content to let him keep her safe. But Brit was a fighter; she’d lost her ability to go quietly into the night a long time ago when she discovered she could only tolerate her life when she had a spine made of steel. What it also meant was she was giving up the only relationship that ever truly reached her, touched her, made her want more from her existence. That thought alone had the tears flowing and the sobs breaking free from her throat.

* * * *

“Hey, Em. What’s up?”

“How about I can’t find your girlfriend? Her car’s gone, Jonathan said she left over two hours ago, and she’s not answering her phone.” His heart started pounding, and as Truman and Aaron caught the sudden ferocious thudding sound coming from his chest, their attention snapped to him. “I’m worried, Angus.”

“We’re on our way.” He disconnected, but before he’d even pocketed his phone it rang again. “What?” He was too terrified to sound decent.

“We need to talk.” It was Langford, and he was the last man Angus wanted to talk to at the moment.

“I’m busy. It’ll have to wait.” He snapped the words in annoyance.

But just as he started pulling his phone from his ear, Langford spoke again. “Busy doing what? Looking for your girlfriend?” Angus didn’t have a chance to question the man before Langford hung up on him.

The other men stared at him as shock started sinking in. “Truman, we need to go now.” He stumbled to his feet as Truman and Aaron followed. Truman had driven them to the hotel Aaron was staying at for their meeting with the man, and it was a lucky thing too. Angus wasn’t at all sure he could manage a car at the moment. His hands were trembling as he fumbled with his phone. When he tried to call Brit, it went straight to voice mail, and his trembling turned to violent shakes. She was in trouble.

Truman sped toward Langford’s building, weaving in and out of traffic. Aaron had come with them, and he almost felt bad for the man. Aaron had been reluctant at best to accept Angus’ proposition, and this couldn’t be helping the sell. But the man refused to sit idly by in the hotel when they went in search of Brit. He was liking Aaron more by the second, but as Angus stared out the window, he wasn’t in their world anymore. He was in the world he loved more than any other—the world that seemed to exist around he and Brit alone and left little attachment for anything beyond it.

“So, who is Brit?” Angus heard the question being asked by Aaron from the backseat, but he didn’t bother opening his mouth to respond.

Truman quite obviously understood his need to remain silent and took the honors. “She’s a cop … and she’s a new vampire … and she’s Angus’ girlfriend. She wears a few hats at the moment. Driscoll killed her mother two and half weeks ago…”

“Fuck.” Aaron muttered the word that summed up pretty much all of their feelings at the moment.

When they arrived at Langford’s building, they found the door unlocked. Langford’s building was smaller than the council’s building, and there was no valet, no real lobby of any sort, just a small deserted entryway with an open staircase that ascended the four floors of the building. It was an incredible quaint old building that Angus had admired on more than one occasion, but on this night, he hated it. It felt like a cold tomb that was going to be the end for him. If Brit died, it would definitely be his end.

They walked upstairs together, silently moving from one floor to the next. Langford’s residence was on the fourth floor, and he was guessing that’s where he would find the man. As his foot fell on one step after another, his mind got away from him again. All he could think about was her. He couldn’t survive losing her; of that, he was certain. He used to think an eternity with any one person would be a nightmare, more than that, impossible. It had been inconceivable to him. But the question of whether he could handle an eternity with one person was no longer a question in his mind at all. The real question now was could he survive an eternity without her, and the answer was most definitely no. It amazed him even as he ascended quickly up the stairs how his perspective had changed since meeting her.

They didn’t bother knocking when they reached the penthouse door that took up the entire fourth floor. Any vampire within would have heard them coming, but the element of surprise wasn’t what they were going for. His heart lurched as the door was pushed open. He wasn’t prepared to see her hurt or worse, and it terrified him to think they might just be too late. When the door pushed open, she was there. She was standing in front of Driscoll, and he held a knife partially impaled in the side of her neck. His guts clenched as he took in the sight of her. Langford stood casually by watching them enter.

“Let her go. Your fight isn’t with her.” His voice was demanding, but he knew there was little he could do. They had the upper hand, and they damn well knew it.

“No, you’re right about that. My fight is with you, and since apparently going through her to get to you is the most effective way to get your attention, she will be staying for this meeting. Whether she stays permanently or leaves with you, hasn’t yet been decided.” Langford’s voice was calm and passive. It made no real sense why he was aligning himself with Driscoll, but Angus didn’t much care about the why, so long as Brit was safe.

She looked bad—more than bad. She looked half-dead. Her hands were restrained behind her back, and her right shoulder joint looked unnaturally detached from her arm. He cringed just at the sight of it. Her skin was far more pale than usual, and her face and hair were streaked with blood. Her shirt was tattered and the skin beneath as bloody as her face. She watched him, but she looked practically deranged in pain as she tried to hold her head up. He could barely keep himself from lunging for her, but Truman’s hand was tightly clamped on his elbow, pulling him back firmly as his body willed him to move forward. He could feel his lips pulled back in a snarl, and were his throat not so restricted from terror, he would likely be growling.

As he watched, Driscoll pushed the knife deeper into the side of her neck as her eyes bulged and blood dripped from her neck. Her mouth opened as the pain hit, and she cried out as Angus groaned helplessly. She fell silent again, frozen in agony. “Let her go!” His voice bellowed out at Driscoll, but the man’s lips pulled up in a sadistic smile.

“All in due time, Chairman.” It was Langford speaking to him, and as his focus whipped to the man, Langford glared back. “Since you’ve decided to strip me of my position in my family and have taken it upon yourself to determine how my family should be managed, I feel like you owe me at least this little treat.” He started pacing back and forth, casually sauntering behind Brit from one side to the other. “I know you intend to replace me. I wasn’t born yesterday. Not even close. I’ve been paying attention to you, watching your movements. I know full fucking well that if you replace me, you will also try to destroy me as well. So consider this insurance.”

“You’re as crazy as Driscoll.” His voice was seething in fury as he spoke, but as the words were spoken, Driscoll pushed the knife farther, Brit cried out loudly, and he lurched forward. Truman’s hand clamped down tighter on his arm and stilled his movement.

“That may be. Now how about we discuss exactly what you’re going to do for me in order to get your girlfriend back alive, shall we?”

Angus pursed his lips to contain his fury, but he managed to get the words out. “What. Do. You. Want.” He was glaring harshly at Langford who was still pacing slowly behind Brit. When his attention caught on Brit, he gasped and had to clench his teeth tight together to keep from moaning in pain. Her body was sagging, and he could tell her knees were mere moments from giving out. Driscoll was holding her up by the hair at her scalp, and her eyelids were fluttering. She was in more agony than her body could tolerate.

“You’re assurance that you won’t come after me for one. In exchange, I’ll leave town. However, I intend to take my family’s money with me. I can’t cash out our accounts without your signature, and if you want me gone, then you’re going to do it. Seems only fair given the fact you’re forcing me to abdicate my position.”

“Fine. Now turn her loose.”

“Not so fast. You’ll give Driscoll the same protection. The man has done nothing but rid the earth from scum, and you’ve treated him as though he was a pariah.”

“He is a pariah!” Brit’s words were spit from her bloodied mouth as she sank to her knees. Her knees were splayed as she struggled to stay upright, but Langford’s bid for Driscoll’s life had gotten her attention. Driscoll was still holding her by the hair and had shifted his hand lower to hold the knife still impaled in her neck.

“Shut up, you stupid bitch!” Driscoll pulled the knife quickly from her neck and released his hold on her hair before he backhanded her with his fist and sent her body skidding across the floor. She struggled to sit and get back up to her knees, and she cried in pain as Angus tried to get to her. But Driscoll was far closer and had her pulled up to stand before Angus could close half the space. He smirked at Angus, and as Angus watched, the man held his eyes and slowly, tauntingly, he pushed the knife right back into the same open wound he’d already given her. She sobbed in pain that was hard for him to listen to and her face was equally hard to look at in her agony.

“Fine!” He screamed the words at Langford as he felt his face contorting in pain.

But as tortured as Brit was, she wasn’t willing to see her need for vengeance dashed so easily. “No! Don’t you dare! You can’t let him go. Goddamnit!” She was grunting as she was speaking, pleading with him. He understood. He didn’t agree, but he understood how she felt. He’d seen the shift in her once her mother died. She was obsessed with ending this, but Angus was fully prepared to take that away from her to save her life.

He looked directly at her as she sobbed, her body trembling from the pain she was in. “I’m sorry, Brit. I love you, and I can’t lose you.” He could feel the tears pricking his eyes, and he clenched his jaw harshly to stifle the emotion that wanted to break forth. Brit’s gaze held his, and her face softened. She was silent but her tears still fell, and as he watched, her eyes slowly closed, and her body was racked with shuddering sobs.

“How very fucking endearing.” Langford’s tone was sarcastic and mocking. “Turn her loose, Driscoll. Her owner wants her back.” Angus watched, trying to hide the tremble in his hands as he waited. He couldn’t stop his mind from whirling with every disastrous outcome he could imagine. He didn’t trust Driscoll. He wanted Driscoll’s hands off her body so much he could barely stand still. He was terrified something would go wrong, and he wasn’t willing to breathe until she was safely in his possession.

What he didn’t imagine was Brit’s next move. The second Driscoll uncuffed one hand, Angus watched in amazement as Brit’s hand moved to her ankle, grabbed a knife holstered to the inside of her leg, and she pounced from the floor like an animal. Turning midjump, she swung the knife with the same incredible precision he’d witnessed with the gun in the alley, thrusting it in the front of Driscoll’s throat just below the chin. The angle was upward into his brain stem, and the moment it was fully impaled, Driscoll’s eyes bulged, his mouth dropped open to rest on the handle of the blade, and Brit landed softly on her feet, staring at her prey.

In Angus’ shock, his brain barely kicked in in time to see Langford lunge for her. But he closed that space in an instant, catching him from behind and sinking his teeth into the man’s neck. He tore the side of the Langford’s neck clean out, releasing him as he dropped to his knees. He couldn’t survive it, but it didn’t stop Angus from grabbing his head, twisting and severing it from his body.

Brit was watching Angus, stunned as Driscoll stood frozen in front of her with the long, slender blade through his neck. Driscoll’s body was struggling to function with his brain stem impaled, and as Brit’s focus returned to Driscoll, Angus saw her lips pull back in a snarl before the heal of her palm struck like a viper to his nose, snapping his head back and severing his spinal column and brain stem from his body. Driscoll fell backward to the floor. He was dead.

Brit sank to the ground, staring at Driscoll’s lifeless body. Her shoulders started hitching as she started to cry, and Angus ran to her side, crouching beside her on the ground. He was overwhelmed with pride for his partner, but worried beyond words at her state. He could smell her adrenaline dissipating, but he could also smell her blood. Her left arm hung limply at her side, and her head was down as she wept.

When he touched her arm, she flinched, and for the first time, she turned to him and saw him there beside her. Her sobs overcame her body, and she moved toward him as he sat down beside her. She couldn’t use her left arm, and he helped her to crawl into his lap as he wrapped his arms around her. All he could do was shush her as she buried her head against his chest.

“Is he dead?” Her voice was quiet.

“Yeah, sweetie. He’s gone. You’re okay.” Her body was trembling, and as Truman and Aaron approached, she looked up to them both.

“Nice work, Detective Bad Ass.” Truman was giving her a subtle, warm smile. She sniffed and offered a weak one of her own.

“You guys can go. I’ll take care of things here.” It was Aaron, and as Brit looked up to him, he smiled at her. “Hi, Brit. It’s good to meet you. I’m Aaron. That was quite impressive.” She nodded before she dropped her cheek back to Angus’ chest.

“We need to get you to Bremmer, love.” She nodded and Angus stood with her in his arms.

The ride back to the council building was quiet. He sat in the back seat with Brit curled up against him. When she spoke, it was so soft even he couldn’t hear and had to ask her to repeat herself. And as he leaned his head down to her mouth, she did. “I love you, and I’m sorry I put myself in danger.” He pulled back, looking at her beautiful tawny-brown eyes.

“I love you too, and don’t worry. I’m already thinking about the most exquisite ways you can make it up to me.” He kissed her forehead as her eyes sank closed. His eyes teared and one tear broke free, slipping down his cheek.

Chapter 27

When she woke she was in bed. Her body felt remarkably comfortable given the excruciating pain she’d been in the last time she was conscious. Her shoulder was stabilized to anchor her arm in place with an ACE bandage across her chest, under her opposite arm, and around her back. But even that pain was dull and distant. She could tell her body was healing, and a wave of relief passed over her. The pain had far surpassed any she’d experienced before.

Angus entered with Dr. Bremmer moments later. “I thought I heard you waking up.” He climbed onto the bed beside her, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “How do you feel?”

“Better.”

“I removed the bullet while you were passed out, and you’ll feel better by tomorrow night. You need rest, and you need to feed, but you’re going to be fine.” Dr. Bremmer smiled at her warmly as he spoke, and Angus stroked her hair back from her face. She couldn’t stop looking to Angus as he stroked her skin. He loved her. It was a shocking revelation in many ways, and yet, it was everything she wanted. A peace she hadn’t thought possible settled over her as the men spoke.

When Dr. Bremmer left, it was early morning, and the dawn sun was just starting to rise. Angus pulled all the drapes before undressing as she watched. When he caught her staring, he smirked. “Not a chance, love.” And then muttering, “Not that I don’t want to. Making love is so life affirming for us after all.” He smirked again, and she smiled. Angus climbed to the bed beside her, looking down at her eyes. “Don’t suppose you could stay out of trouble for a while now, do you? I don’t think vampires can have heart attacks, but I think I just might if you pull a stunt like that again.”

“I promise.” Her comment was met with a warm smile, a kiss, and his arms wrapped snuggly around her. It was exactly what she needed.

He rose up to an elbow before leaning over her, offering her his neck. When her teeth sank in, he grunted quietly for a moment before it turned to a groan. She’d only taken his blood a few times so far, but he appeared to be enjoying it more with every bite, and as his arousal strained against her thigh, her body warmed and thrilled.

But it wasn’t to be one of those delicious nights together. Instead, it was the warm sweet kind that left her curled up in his arms, resting and healing. Every hour brought more comfort to her body and more desire to her loins. She’d thought she was going to lose him. She couldn’t stand the thought of losing him, but the moment she realized how in over her head she was, she was certain of it.

She didn’t imagine ending her day telling the man she loved that she actually loved him or hearing it in return, much less destroying the man responsible for her mother’s death. All in all, a fairly satisfying day … aside from the god-awful pain, fear, certainty of death…

When his lips brushed her temple in the late afternoon hour, it was as he rose to run her bath. She soaked off the grime of the day before, while he changed the bedding that she’d managed to pretty much destroy. And when he joined her, he pulled her into his arms to straddle his body. She fed from him once again, and as she pulled from him, she could see the exhausted signs of his own hunger. When she asked, he shook his head. “I’m fine. I’ll feed soon.”

They rested on the sofa and were joined by Ember and Truman for a while. When Dr. Bremmer stopped by, it was to check on her, and after all three eventually left, she lay her head down on his lap as he read. She enjoyed the peace and quiet with him. It was so normal and precious, and it was her life now.

When he set his book down, it was to slip his hand past the neck of her shirt. She was braless, and as he stroked her nipple, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. She was ridiculously aroused, and she knew there was no hiding it from him. He stood from her head and walked to the opposite end of the couch to settle at her feet. She put her hands behind her head and watched him as he worked his fingers up the leg of her yoga pants, starting at her ankle. He stroked the skin of her calf, and she kept her eyes trained on his.

“Touch yourself.” His voice was quiet in the silence of their residence. She slipped her hand beneath the waist of her pants, and he watched as the gentle, slow movement of her fingers could be seen under the fabric. When he reached to her hips, wriggling the pants down, she lifted her bottom. He pulled her underwear down with her pants, and watched as she slipped her fingers between the lips of her sex, massaging through the silky wetness that was already covering her fingers.

She was quiet as she massaged her sex, and as she stroked, he stood, dropped his pants to the floor, and sat back down. He leaned to her sex, pausing inches away to meet her gaze. Her fingers stilled, and when he closed the remaining space, he kissed two knuckles of her exposed wet fingers. When he ran his tongue up her middle finger, which was still nestled between the lips of her sex, she exhaled the breath she’d been holding.

He lifted her hand gently from her body, sucking her fingers into his mouth as she continued to watch while swallowing over a lump in her throat. And lacing her wet fingers between his, he held on tight to her as he kissed her pussy. He grazed his lower lip up the parted slit of her sex, letting it catch and drag slowly along her moisture. She gripped his hand tightly as his was holding hers, and when he finally latched his mouth to her sex, her nails dug into the back of his hand painfully.

His tongue tasted and teased every slick inch of her skin. When her hips started to move and writhe against his mouth, she felt his lips pull up in a smile against her skin. She was close. She gripped and released her hold on his hand over and over as she started to lose control. The tremble in her legs and her stomach was pronounced and quite visible. When her body curled toward him, and her guttural cry escaped her lips, he pulled his mouth from her body. She was whimpering, and her eyes were closed tight.

He moved to the floor, pulling her up to sit on the edge and straddle his hips, and she took no coaxing at all to use her hand to guide his cock to her entry as he pushed gently forward and into her vagina. When it was all said and done, they were both on the floor crumpled in a heap, and there was cum dripping from both their bodies.

He spoke on a husky voice that was arousing in and of itself. “I want forever with you.”

She could only nod. She couldn’t imagine anything less than forever.

“Say it.”

“Forever.”

Epilogue

The morning was cool and crisp, and the sun was only barely showing over the city. He kissed her gently as she looked out the window. He was naked and beautiful, just as he’d been when they’d gone to bed only two hours before. All she really wanted to do was jump right back in bed with him, but she couldn’t.

“Be careful.” He murmured the words against her temple as she leaned into his body.

“I will.”

He flopped down on the couch as she prepared to leave, and he smiled at her as she turned to walk from their residence.

When she ran out the building, hollering her good-bye to Jonathan who was just arriving, she was smacked with the smell of life. It was early spring, and while it was still many weeks, if not months, until warm weather would be there to stay for a while, it was something—a sign of the season to come.

She spent the ride reminiscing about her night with Angus. It tended to put her in a good mood, and it was the very best way to deal with early mornings such as this. They’d spent the evening at a play with Truman and Ember and had played cards until early morning. He’d taken her to bed the moment they were alone, and he’d spent the rest of the night enjoying and indulging in her, and letting her do the same with him. She hadn’t been ready to leave him, but days were like that for her. He’d be there when she returned, and she’d long for it the entire time she was away.

When she pulled to the curb, she wasn’t ready to let her memories go, and she sat for a moment. Her car had only just warmed up, and she knew the chill of the early morning was waiting to bite through her clothing the moment the door was open, but as a rap came to her window, she peered out. He was waiting patiently, but with an annoyed expression on his face.

“What’s new, Humphreys?” She spoke as she climbed from the warmth to the cool morning and the rising sun.

“More dead bodies. Whadya think, I gots ya outta bed early for breakfast?” He smirked at her before nudging her shoulder. They walked together to the scene.

“Miss … Miss. This way.” She started shaking her head, but she couldn’t quite get the shit-eating grin from pulling at her lips. They’d never learn.

When she approached the uniform man, she turned quickly to him, smiled a small smile, and spoke while she clapped a rather friendly hand on his chest. “It’s Detective, and yes, I’m a miss. Thank you for noticing.”

Humphreys harrumphed and chuckled beside her all at the same time. It was his new response. The one he’d developed after she agreed to go back to work. It was a decision she and Angus had made together.

It was a difficult decision for her. Angus had suggested it, but she’d had her reservations. In the end, he convinced her there was no harm in trying to function in a human world. And she was glad she’d listened to him. This was her place in the world, and Angus was the forever part of that equation that reassured her it was okay.

They continued on their way to the crime scene, pulling their gloves from their pockets as they went.

Just another day in paradise. Her paradise.

The End

Publisher’s Note

Please help this author's career by posting an honest review wherever you purchased this book.

About Elizabeth Finn

Elizabeth Finn is an Iowa native, where she lives with her husband and son. By day, Elizabeth is a Human Resources Specialist, but by night, she checks her professionalism at the door and immerses herself in the world of writing erotic romance. Look for more to come from Elizabeth Finn.

Table of Contents

Immortal Distraction

Blurb

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Epilogue

About Elizabeth Finn