Bound to Shadows

Chapter Eleven

"Well, that sure puts a spanner in the works," I grumbled, once we were clear of Vinny's building. "He could be anyone and we'd never know it."

"I think you would," Quinn said. "You've crossed paths with him several times now, so even if he assumes another form, you'd probably pick up his scent."

Maybe, and maybe not. There were ways and means of covering a base scent, and if he were an old vampire—or wraith—then he could probably also tone done his energy 'vibe' or whatever the hell it was. "At least it explains how he managed to use Martez's identity for so long without anyone picking it up."

"The obvious place to look is Dante's. That's where the murders happened."

"And that's where Martez went when I was following him last night." I raised my face to the morning sunshine, letting it warm my skin. "He could even be Dante himself."

But could an emo vamp who was also a mirror wraith constantly exude the sort of sexual allure that Dante did? Vinny could seduce just about anyone, but it was a power she could switch on or off and one that drained her after a while—unless she was feeding while using it. Dante was simply 'on' all the time.

"That is very possible."

For the first time, there was a note of weariness in Quinn's voice and I glanced up at him. His normally tanned skin seemed redder than usual, suggesting the sunlight was beginning to burn him even though midday—the dangerous part of the day for him—was a ways off yet. I lightly touched his arm. Despite his color, his skin was cool, which was unusual considering it generally only happened when he wasn't feeding enough. "Are you okay?"

He nodded. "As I said before, using the Aedh skills has its consequences."

"Meaning it drains you?"

"Depending on how much I use, it can drain me to the point of unconsciousness. Luckily, that was not the case here."

Meaning he hadn't used full power and yet had still been able to pulverize that person…

The thought had another tremor running through me. It was scary to think that one person could contain so much power…

Jesus, Risa.

"Yes," Quinn said, before I could ask the question. "Risa will have the skill, which is why I so readily agreed to train her. If she doesn't know how to control it, she could be a threat to everyone around her."

"Maybe that's why Dia is so desperate to get your help. Maybe she saw something in her dreams." And hopefully, the death she'd seen for herself wasn't at the hands of her beautiful little girl. "Do you need to feed or something?"

He hesitated, then shook his head. "I do, but Jack will have my head if I drag you away from this investigation right now."

"You're older than Jack, and more dangerous besides. I don't think you're in any danger from him—metaphorically or otherwise."

"Jack is not someone you should brush aside so easily," Quinn said wryly. "Especially when he's probably listening."

"Hey, he knows I love and respect him. He just can't do what you just did." And thank God for that, I added silently. One and a half atom splitting beings in my little world was more than enough.

"I do not think I need to know the details of what Quinn just did," Jack said into my ear, confirming that he had indeed been listening. "But I agree with him that we need to start with Dante's and it's owner. Do you think Kye still has the place monitored?"

"I have no idea."

"Then find out and get back to me. If he hasn't, then we'll need put cameras and bugs in place."

"We could just go in and talk to Starke." Then the undercurrent in his words hit me, and I added, "You have him marked as a suspect, don't you?"

"Starke is the likely starting point, now that we're dealing with a flesh shifter. For all we know, the real Dante Starke is a rotting headless corpse in a cellar somewhere."

"Someone would have smelled him by now if that was the case." I hesitated, then added, "Would an emo vamp have the same sort of sexual allure that Starke has? Because the Starke I've been meeting is dynamite."

"If he is old enough, yes. And if he has refined his methods, you wouldn't even know he was feeding. All you would feel was lust."

Well, I'd certainly felt that around Starke. And if he was our wraith, then he'd also paid me a visit. Which presented another problem. "There's one sticky point in all this—neither Renatta Bailey nor Janette Crowley apparently had lovers, and yet Sal claims wraiths can only travel through mirrors they've physically seen. How did he drain them nightly then, if he's never been to their houses?" He'd certainly never been near mine.

"I don't know enough about wraiths to answer that question," Jack said heavily.

Quinn and I reached my car and stopped. "Where do you want me to go once I find out whether the bugs are still online or not?"

"Come into the office."

"Will do." I clicked the com-link off and caught Quinn's hands in mine. "Are you going to be okay to drive, or do you want me to drop you off somewhere?"

"And leave the Porsche sitting around here for the vandals? Bite your tongue, woman."

I grinned. "It's not like you can't afford another one. Or a hundred."

"I didn't get rich by being wasteful."

"No, you got rich through becoming a thief."

"Which I did for only for a very brief period in my life. Most of my money has been honestly gained."

"Hey, I've seen the prices your airline charges for tickets. There's nothing honest about that."

He smiled, then leaned forward and kissed me. His lips were light on mine, his kiss gentle and yet potent.

"Be careful when dealing with the spirit wraith," he said, his lips still so close that his breath warmed mine. "Have you still got that knife I gave you?"

"It's in the car's weapons stash."

"Then carry it. It works on more than just demons—and on more than those who inhabit flesh."

Then I'd be carrying it. Anything that gave me a slight advantage was a damn good thing right now. I ran my fingertips down his chin. "I do love you. You know that, don't you?"

He raised an eyebrow. "And what has bought about this sudden declaration?"

"I sometimes think I don't say it enough."

He smiled. "Well, it is nice to hear it said out loud every now and again, even if I do know it for a fact."

It didn't stop him fearing Kye, though, or what he might do to us. He might not have said it, but that darkness was there in his eyes. And there was nothing I could say to ease those fears, because they were mine as well.

I gave him another quick kiss. "I'll see you sometime tonight."

"Make sure that you do." He hesitated, his gaze sweeping my face, as if memorizing it. "Shoot to kill, Riley. Don't hesitate."

"Why do people keep telling me that?" I muttered, even as goose bumps ran across my flesh. It was almost as if everyone around me was having premonitions of impending doom. "I'm a guardian. I'll do what I'm paid to do. I think I've more than proven that."

"I know. It doesn't stop me from worrying, though."

At least he didn't try and stop me, or ask me to give up being a guardian. That made him a far better man than Kellen ever was.

"Go get yourself some sustenance." I hesitated, then grinned and added, "Just don't go enjoying the experience too much."

He laughed, touched my chin lightly—almost reverently—then walked over to his car. I waved him goodbye, then dug out my phone again.

"Well, this is an unexpected pleasure," Kye said, his golden eyes glowing on the vid-screen.

"For you, maybe," I said tartly. "For me, it's all business."

He laughed. The sound was so different to the one I'd heard only moments before and yet, in its own way, just as powerful. "That's what I like about you, Riley. You cut straight through the crap."

And yet there was still tons of it in my life. And I was currently talking to the primary source.

"Have you still got your bugs and cameras in Dante's?"

He hesitated. "No, I pulled them this morning. Why?"

I ignored the questions and said, "I hope that doesn't mean you've completed your mission, because if it does, I'm going to have to arrest your ass."

"What it means is the client's wife has moved onto greener pastures." He paused, and his voice lowered several octaves as he added, "Although I'd really like to see you try and arrest me. That could get interesting."

The way he emphasized 'interesting' sent a shudder racing down my spine, and it wasn't entirely the ice of fear.

"And I'd hate to make things interesting for you," I said tartly. "So maybe I'll send someone else." Someone he couldn't seduce.

"I refuse to be caught by anyone else but you." He paused. "I don't suppose you feel like handcuffing and interrogating me now, do you?"

"No," I said briskly. Though the usual stupid part of me wished I did. "I have far more important things to do with my time. And I thought you had a meeting with another client?"

"It's just finished." His smile flashed. "Don't suppose you want to know who it was?"

"No." Yes.

"Shame, because it's someone you've had a long association with."

I knew who he meant in an instant, and my stomach curled. Why the hell would he be meeting my pack leader? "Not Blake?"

"The very man."

"You could have done me a favor and shot him."

"And why would I do that? Unless, of course, you pay me to do so." Again his grin flashed. He was obviously feeling mighty fine this morning. Whether it had anything to do with our marathon last night or the meeting with Blake was anyone's guess. "And from you," he added, "I'll accept a currency other than cash."

I just bet. "He's tried to hurt me once before. We both know he want to do so again."

"True. And believe me, if he does anything that threatens your life, then I will kill him, and free of charge." He paused. "You are mine to kill, Riley, no one else's."

"Kill me and you kill yourself," I snapped back. "And you don't seem the suicidal type to me."

Crazy, yes. Suicidal, no.

He laughed. There was nothing warm or comforting about it. "You really have no idea what I'm capable of, Riley."

That was certainly true. "Was Blake behind the bug you placed on me last night?"

"Maybe. And it wasn't a bug but a deadener." He paused again. "Why do you need to use the cameras and bugs at the club? Is Dante a suspect?"

I countered his question with one of my own. "Why didn't you put the bug somewhere more subtle?"

He smiled. "Maybe I wanted you to know what Blake was up to. Or maybe it was designed as an earring so I had no choice. Your turn to give an answer."

"At this point of time, everyone is a suspect."

"Even me?" Amusement laced his tone. "Riley, I'm hurt."

I snorted softly. "We know there are two people involved in these killings, so there's no reason why you can't be one of them."

"That's true," he said cheerfully. "So, are you coming to arrest me? Perhaps we can get hot and heavy with the questioning."

"Sorry, you'll have control your deviant fantasies a little longer. I've got a club to bug."

"You never did explain why Dante and his club are suspect."

"No, I didn't. Shame," I added cheerfully, then hung up, climbed into my car and drove to the Directorate.

Jack glanced up as I walked into the otherwise empty sguad room. "Any luck on the bugs?"

"Which bugs are we talking about? The one found on me or the ones Kye placed? Have the labs said anything about that bug?"

"Only that it's black market and not something we've even heard whispers about." His expression was grim. "Which makes me wonder why he left it on you."

"He said it was a warning. And that he couldn't conceal it better because it was designed as an earring." I wasn't entirely sure I believed either reason.

Jack grunted. "And the surveillance equipment he placed at the club?"

"He says his target has moved on and that he's removed them."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Is that a sarcastic note I hear in your voice?"

"Me? Sarcastic? Never." I walked over to the coffee machine and poured myself a cup of the horrid stuff. Beans had been packed and this was better than nothing. But only just, I thought, wincing as I took a sip. "I just think it's a little convenient. Either he's made the kill and is covering his ass so we won't arrest him when and if we find the body, or something else is going on."

"You don't think he's involved in these murders, do you?"

"Honestly? I have no idea. The fact that he's been so helpful suggests not—and we have absolutely no evidence pointing to the fact that he is—but he's a twisted sort of soul and he may be getting an inordinate amount of pleasure seeing just how close we get."

"The other man your ghost talked about wasn't a vampire, so it's possible that he could be a werewolf."

"But it's also possible he's a shifter of any other make and model." I took a sip and wondered why I was defending the man. It wasn't as if I actually wanted to help him out. But I didn't want to see a possibly innocent man accused either—even if he was as rotten as Kye. "So, what's next?"

He grimaced. "Kade talked to the woman whose car was stolen, but she didn't give us anything new. He's now downstairs now collecting the appropriate bugging gear for the club. We've arranged for an electrical outage to happen—" he glanced at his watch—"at twelve forty-five. We'll divert their call to ensure our people are the ones phoned and tell them we have people in the area. Lunch seems to be a busy time for them, so they won't be looking too closely at what the electricians are doing when they've got a room full of people to cope with."

I frowned. "Dante will more than likely be there at that time, and he doesn't miss much."

"I know. Which is why you're going to be there at twelve forty to interview the man."

Oh, great. "Boss—"

"Don't 'boss' me, Riley. You will go talk to him." Meaning the one thing I'd been trying to avoid was the one thing I was now being ordered to do. He continued, "We need those bugs in there—and this case solved—as soon as possible."

My frown deepened at the tension in his voice. "So why do I suspect there's more than the usual urgency behind that order?"

"Because the Melbourne council—what remains of them—is meeting tonight as usual—against our advice, I might add—and that just makes them a very juicy target."

"Why on earth would they do that? I thought they were all high-tailing it out of the state until the crisis was over."

His expression was grim. "They were ordered not to by the high council, who plans to use them as bait."

I blinked. "Talk about a blood thirsty method of getting your man!"

"And if they get the wrong man, things could get very nasty for all of us." He pointed his pen at me. "So you will wear something pretty to Dante's and distract the hell out of Starke."

I glanced at my watch. It was after eleven, so I really didn't have time to go home and clean up. "I'll need some fresh clothes if I'm going to distract Starke. And you need to let me know the minute Kade and his people have finished so I can get the hell out of there."

"We will. Now go. And don't expect the Directorate to cough up huge amounts of money for the outfit. Think budget sexy."

"I'll try." I gulped down the last of the horrendous coffee, then headed up the stairs and down the street to the Direct Factory Outlet center to find something suitable to wear.

It was just after twelve-thirty by the time I arrived at Dante's. I climbed out of the car then adjusted my skirt, smoothing the tight material over my hips. I'd been tempted to just wear jeans and a t-shirt, but Jack had ordered a complete distraction.

The tight black skirt with the teasing split that went high up my right thigh and the dark green, button-up top was almost—but not quite—see through, was certainly that. And there were just enough buttons undone to reveal the slight hint of breast. A tease, not a full on show.

Now I just had to survive the full force of his 'distraction' and try to avoid getting laid.

Of course, the outfit made the knife and its protective sheath sitting at the base of my spine somewhat obvious, but I wasn't going to go into that place without some sort of weapon at hand. In fact, I had several, because my purse held my laser as well as my keys—and in the right hands, those little bits of metal could be quite dangerous indeed.

Especially when they had the power of a dhampire behind them.

I glanced at my watch, saw that it was time, and strolled towards Dante's. The guard at the door was new—to my knowledge, at least—and he eyed me intently, his face giving little away.

"I need to talk to Dante Starke," I said, taking my badge from my purse and showing it to him. "Is he in at the moment ?"

His gaze swept the badge then he nodded. "One moment, and I'll see if he's available."

His gaze went a blank, meaning that, like the guard who'd worked here before him, he was a newer vampire. Maybe Starke couldn't afford more seasoned personnel.

"He said he'll meet you in his office shortly." He opened the door and I walked inside the gloom of the club. Once again, the smell assaulted my senses, making me pause. The riot of hunger and lust, all entwined with the scent of humanity, vampire, booze and blood, had my stomach turning. Yet once again, a tiny part of my soul was turned on by it.

I walked towards the bar. The same man was there, still chewing gum and looking superior.

"Hey, you're looking pretty special today," he said, gaze sweeping my body and lingering on the length of thigh. "The boss is a lucky man."

"This outfit is not for your boss's benefit, but rather for the man I have a hot date with after this interview. So if you could hurry your boss along, it would be most appreciated."

"If I had known such a delicious treat waited for me," Dante said, his voice sliding up from behind me and wrapping around me as seductively as a caress, "I would most certainly have been here to receive you."

I turned around. He was standing four feet away and I hadn't even heard him approach. His golden hair was tousled and his tight-fitting shirt was untucked and not fully buttoned, revealing teasing glimpses of tight golden curls. He was wearing black pants that were neatly creased and seemed to emphasize the sheer size of him, and his feet were bare.

He'd just come from his bed, I thought, and tried to shake the image from my mind.

"As I just said, the treat is not for you." I might be under orders to distract the man, but any sudden change of attitude was going to raise suspicions—especially if he was our man. "I just have a few quick questions, then I'll be gone again."

"I'm shattered," he said, his expression crestfallen but golden eyes twinkling. "Boris, a bottle of our finest."

"You know I can't drink it." I crossed my arms, forcing my breasts a little closer together and making it totally obvious that I wasn't wearing a bra.

"Of course you can't," he agreed, his gaze barely flickering to my chest, yet the heat of him seeming to leap substantially—flaring white hot then just as quickly disappearing, as if he was controlling it tightly. "With two glasses, please."

Boris grinned and wandered off to where ever they stashed the good stuff. Starke waved a hand toward the office. "After you, sweet thing."

I snorted softly and led the way, trying but not entirely succeeding in keeping the distance between us.

"That knife is an interesting addition to your outfit," Starke commented, his voice low and gently seductive. "And it does put an interesting twist on what you consider a hot date."

"That knife is for you." I wrapped my hand around the handle of the office door and pushed it open. "And if you get too touchy-feely, I will use it."

He laughed. The sound rumbled pleasantly across my senses. "I shall consider myself warned."

But not frightened off, obviously.

The office was no less sparsely furnished than before, although there was one additional item that had been added more recently. As well as the two plush velvet armchairs, there was now also a huge chaise lounge.

Its message was obvious.

I thrust the images of golden skin and hard bodies delightfully entwined away irritably, and forced my feet firmly in the direction of the chair. I sat down, crossing my legs and ensuring the skirt's split revealed plenty. Including, if he looked hard enough, the fact I was wearing lacy black panties. I glanced at my watch and saw it was now twelve-forty five. The power should be failing at any minute.

"I just have a few questions to ask," I said briskly, entwining my fingers and resting them on my lap. His gaze followed the movement and lingered on the skin being revealed. "It shouldn't take that long."

"Please, take all the time you want." He pulled the other chair closer and sat down, the action grace itself. "I am quite enjoying the view."

I made a slight attempt to adjust the skirt. "I would prefer it if you didn't."

"And I'd prefer it if you were naked and putty in my arms, but we can't all get what we want now, can we?"

"Thankfully, in this case, no."

He smiled and touched a toe to my calf. Delight shimmered up my leg, heating me in ways I couldn't even begin to describe.

I shifted so that his touch fell away. His amusement grew stronger, twitching his lips.

"Do you know a man called Kye Murphy?"

He frowned, pretending to consider the question as his deep-lidded glaze slithered up to my breasts then down to my legs again. "Should I?"

"We know he's been to this club."

He arched a pale eyebrow. "And how would you know that? I do hope you haven't bugged the place. That would be most inconsiderate, considering I've gone out of my way to help you. "

"It's the Directorate's business to be inconsiderate—especially when we're chasing a killer." I paused, and allowed a small smile to touch my lips. "However, we haven't bugged you. I saw him when I was viewing the security camera tapes."

"Ah, of course." He laced his fingers and dropped them on his lap—drawing my gaze to the bulge that was his crotch. I have to say, it seemed even more impressive now than it had before. But then, if this guy was a flesh shifting wraith who could alter his body any way he wished, he wouldn't exactly be gifting himself with small bits, would he?

The lights chose that moment to go out, plunging us into darkness. I breathed a silent sigh of relief. At least things were going to plan.

So far, at least.

A few seconds later, the lights flickered and came on again, but this time their glow was much dimmer. A backup generator was powering the emergency lighting, obviously.

There was a knock at the door, and when Starke said "Enter," Boris opened the door, a tray of Bollinger and two glasses in hand. "The power has just crapped out, boss," he said, placing the tray on the little table beside Starke's chair.

"Then deal with it," Starke said, "and ensure I'm not disturbed for as long as Ms. Jenson is here."

"Which won't be long at all," I assured them both.

The barkeeper smirked. Starke merely looked amused. Once Boris had left and the door was once again closed, he said, "So why is this Murphy fellow of interest to you?"

"Because he's a hired hitman, and we don't believe his reasons for being in town."

Starke's toe was somehow caressing my leg again, and desire began to unfurl inside of me. But I didn't shift my leg, if only because it was already hard up against the arm of the chair.

"So you suspect that he's behind these beheadings?" Starke poured two glasses of Bollinger and handed one to me, his fingers lingering briefly against mine.

I pulled my hand away and placed the glass on the floor. He tut-tutted. "Come now, Ms. Jenson, you know the rules. I cannot answer questions if you're going to waste the nectar of life."

"I thought blood was the nectar of life for you vampires?"

"Only to those who do not have the good taste or the fortune to afford life's true necessities."

"Which blood is to a vampire."

"Only to some. For me, the only thing sweeter than Bollinger is the taste of a woman dripping with desire."

His gaze met mine, and caused all sorts of havoc to my breathing. I reached down, picked up the glass, and tried to get my breathing under control. Slowly in, slowly out. It was simple, really.

Only my mind fastened on the words and suddenly began imagining other things going slowly in and slowly out. And that caused still more chaos.

I took a sip of the deliciously cool liquid, but it didn't do a lot to stamp out the sparks threatening to become a bonfire.

God, if this man wasn't the wraith, then he was something just as dangerous. Hell, the use of werewolf auras were restricted by law and this damn well should be too.

I cleared my throat and said, "So, Kye Murphy."

He shrugged. It was an elegant movement. "He could have come here. I don't know everyone who visits my establishment. But perhaps a description would help?"

"He's several inches taller than me, with dark red hair, golden eyes and strong build."

"And a werewolf, like you?"

"Yes." I took another sip of champagne.

"Then I doubt it." His sudden smile was wicked. "We don't really cater to their addiction."

"We like sex, but it's not an addiction." It might be a necessity during the full moon, but that was different. I glanced surreptitiously at my watch. Little more than ten minutes had passed. Time had obviously decided to slow to a crawl. I hoped Kade and his crew weren't intending to do the same.

"So, you're admitting you like sex, and yet you refuse to have it with me. I find that most disappointing."

"I'm working. And did I mention my hot date?"

He smiled. It was lazy, insolent and oh-so sexy. "I simply thought I could get you primed and ready."

I was primed and ready to go right now, and if I didn't do something to distract this man—or whatever the hell he actually was—I was going to be exactly where he wanted me to be. In his arms and naked.

But there was only one thing more I could think to question him about, and if he was our flesh shifter, it would warn him we were onto him.

And yet, better he be warned than me having sex with him. That was my only other option right now.

I exchanged my drink for my purse and pulled out the picture Kye had given me. "I don't suppose you know this man, then?"

He reached for the printout, his fingers briefly caressing my wrist before sliding down to grasp the piece of paper. A tremor ran through me and I took a large slug of champagne. If Kade didn't hurry his ass, I was never going to get through this.

Either I was getting depressingly staid in my old age, or he just felt too dangerous for my wolf to handle.

Or maybe I'd just finally realized that the real joy in sex was not just the motion and the pleasure, but the emotions that clicked in when you became involved with that one special person.

Of course, I had two special people to contend with, but that was just fate being a bitch.

"I think I have seen him around a couple of times," Starke mused, looking at the printout.

"And can you tell me anything about him?"

"Perhaps." Amusement twitched his lips. "But I can't possibly say anything without getting something in return."

"I am not going to get naked and sweaty with you." I took another drink, and realized I'd somehow finished the glass. "I already have a plan to do that with someone else."

A full blown grin erupted. It was stunning. "All I ask is for you to undo two buttons."

"Two buttons?"

"Yes." He picked up the champagne and refilled my glass, his knees pressing briefly and sensually against mine. "Just two little buttons."

I pretended to consider the request, then swiftly undid the buttons. The flimsy shirt fell further open, revealing the dark pink edges of areola.

"Lovely," he all but purred. "Simply lovely."

"The information, Starke," I said dryly.

"Of course." He filled his own glass then added, "He's not a regular here, but I have seen him on a few occasions."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why would you notice him when you didn't notice someone like Murphy?"

"Because this man didn't come here to feed or be fed on. He had several drinks at the bar and walked out again. That we notice."

"When was the last time he was here?" I took another sip of Bollinger and a nice little buzz began to fill my head. Champagne—and most other alcohol—didn't really affect wolves to the extent that it did humans, thanks to our higher metabolic rate, but it did provide a happy little high before said metabolism kicked in.

Starke said, "I believe it was last night. He stayed an hour, then left again."

I studied him, unable to tell whether he was speaking the truth or playing a dangerous game. Either one was a possibility, given the amusement in his eyes.

"Riley," Jack said into my ear, his voice fading in and out, as if there was some sort of interference. "We need you back at the office immediate—."

The rest of his sentence was cut off, but it didn't matter because I got the gist of it. Relief slithered through me. Never before had I been so happy about being called back to the Directorate.

I finished my drink in several unladylike gulps, then grabbed my bag and rose. "I'm afraid I've just been called back to the office, so the rest of my questions will have to wait."

"What, so no hot date either?" He pushed gracefully to his feet, moving altogether too close. "It seems a shame to waste such a hot outfit."

"I've learned to live with disappointment." I gave him an insolent grin. "You should, too."

"Oh, I try not to." He caught my hand and raised it to his lips, kissing it gently. "And I don't believe you should, either."

And with that, he hit me.

Not physically, not mentally, but with the full force of his aura or mojo or whatever the hell it was.

My reaction was instinctual. I threw up my own aura, trying to use it as a shield as I had in the past. But I might as well have been using a tissue to block out the force of a gale.

And that gale was instant, burning need.

It was deep and violent and it ached. Literally ached.

He smiled and his grip on his hand tightened, forcing me backwards. Not to the chaise lounge but to the desk. I fought it, I really did, but the need was all-encompassing.

My body shook with futile anger and the ever-increasing tide of lust, but at least my thoughts—while a little scrambled—were my own. I mightn't be strong enough to fight him—and who would have thought a werewolf would ever be saying that?—but at least I wasn't a complete automaton.

Not that that made the situation any better.

My butt hit the table and his grip on my hand forced me to slide up on top of it. His free hand traced the line of my cheek, his fingers so heated against my skin it felt like a burn.

"So lovely," he murmured, his gaze following the journey of his fingers. Down my neck, past my shoulder blade, and onto the soft swell of breast. One fingertip gently grazed a nipple and I couldn't fight the arching my back—an age-old invitation for more. Part of me might be screaming in frustration and fury, but that part was a flea fighting against the might of a storm right now.

He chuckled softly and his touch moved down. One shirt button came undone, then another, until the front of the shirt was completely open.

His fingers continued their downward journey and my skin twitched and burned, pleasure and pain mingling into one. He ran his hands down my thighs, then grabbed the end of the skirt, ripping upwards, so that the split tore all the way to my crotch.

"Much better," he said, rubbing his thumbs down the inside of my thighs before gently pushing them apart. God, I was wet, so wet with the need for him that when he stepped in between my legs, I moaned. And hated the fact that I did.

"I have longed to do this in the flesh," he murmured, thereby confirming he had visited me in my dreams, and therefore was our wraith. His fingers slid back up my thighs. "Have longed wished to know what it is really like to be inside you, heated flesh in heated flesh."

I didn't say anything. Couldn't say anything, caught between expectation and ecstasy. He touched brushed lightly over the lace of my panties, then lifted my butt with one hand and pulled them down my legs. He tossed them aside then reached up and did the same to the shirt, so that I was all but naked.

Then his caress thrust deep inside of me, making me shiver and moan.

"So wet," he said, almost in awe. "I ache with anticipation."

He wasn't the only one. The brain might not want this, but the body was a slave to his mental juju and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

He stepped back and began to strip. His body was as glorious as I'd imagined, all sculptured golden flesh topped by a thick, engorged cock that seemed to grow even larger before my eyes.

And I both ached for and was repelled by it. Or maybe I was just repelled by the sheer fact that this was all being forced on me.

Then he stepped back between my legs, his hands grabbing my butt and holding me steady as that gloriously engorged piece of flesh slid deep inside of me.

A deep sound of pleasure rumbled from his throat, then he began to move, slowly at first but gradually getting faster, harder, until our coupling was a wild mesh of fury, lust and unbridled pleasure. Heated flesh slapped against heated flesh, bringing me to fulfillment, again and again, even though he himself never reached that peak.

The more it went on and on, the more I was being drained.

I had no doubt he'd suck me dry so completely he'd kill me if I didn't find a way to stop him. Because even if he didn't think we suspected him, he knew we were close to one of his identities, thanks to my line of questioning earlier.

Then I remembered the knife at my back.

It was still there, still pressing into my spine. Either Starke had forgotten about it, or he didn't believe it was a real threat.

Bad mistake.

But his aura was still surrounding me and I wasn't entirely sure I could summon the strength to fight it long enough to even move my hand…

Then, like sunshine breaking through a storm, the strength was there. It wasn't mine, but I grabbed it nonetheless, thrusting a hand backwards, wrapping my fingers around the hilt, drawing it free.

Starke didn't notice the movement. He was too busy sucking me dry.

I shifted slightly. Then, as the realization that I was no longer under the influence of his aura hit him, I plunged the knife into his back.

Blue fire exploded from the blade and spread out like little bolts of lightning across his skin. Starke screamed and arched backwards, his skin bubbling and boiling and shifting—becoming something less golden and a whole lot less real.

Then the office door crashed back on its hinges and Kye stood there, a wild mix of lust and anger in his eyes, and a large silver gun in his hands.

He fired before I could move, and Starke's head exploded into a rain of flesh and bone and god knows what else.

As Starke's body fell to the floor, Kye's gaze met mine. His breathing was harsh—as harsh as mine still was—and he smelled of sex and lust and hunger.

He'd been the source of that rush of strength, I realized. The link between us had grown strong enough that I'd been able to call on his reserves to bolster my own.

It had also been strong enough that he'd known exactly what was being done to me, and who was doing it.

Strong enough for him to feel every sensation and desire right along with me.

"Kye, now is not—" I said.

"There is no better time," he cut in ruthlessly. "No one takes what is mine. No one."

I'll never be yours, I wanted to say, but the words died in my throat as the force of his need hit.

That need was as much about control as it was desire.

He kicked the door shut and strode over to me. Then his fingers were tangling themselves in my hair and his lips crushed mine, kissing me savagely as my hands found their way to the waist of his jeans, undoing the button and zip before thrusting them down his hips.

Then he was in me, claiming me, and it felt glorious. Because this was real and solid, a meeting of flesh and soul—even if the man now claiming me was as unwanted as Starke had been.

He fucked me more fully and more savagely than Starke had, and it felt so damn right tears stung my eyes. I came seconds before him, my body shuddering and twisting as his body spasmed and the hot flush of his seed flooded into me.

Then there was nothing but utter exhaustion.

He rested his forehead against mine, his fingers still locked in my hair and his harsh breathing searing my lips. Slowly, surely, my breath and my thoughts steadied, and I found the strength to ask, "Why aren't Starke's men battering down the door after that gunshot?"

He finally released his grip on my hair, sliding them down to my hips instead, holding me firmly against him. The wolf wasn't finished with me yet, apparently. But then, I'd learned last night he had an amazing recovery rate and a huge sexual appetite. And while I might not want him in my life, he was still my soul mate, and I couldn't deny just how good it felt to be locked against him like this.

"Because I told them the Directorate was on the way, and if they valued their lives, they'd get the hell out of here."

I raised an eyebrow. "And they believed you?"

"Why wouldn't they?" He began to rock gently, his body continuing to harden inside of mine. Part of me wanted to slap him away, and part of me wanted to use every inch of him to erase every second of my time with Starke. "You were already here and, for all they knew, it could have been the first part of a plan."

It made sense, and yet…

I don't what it was, but something niggled. Intuition didn't believe him, and I couldn't ignore it.

"But that makes no sense." I paused, my breath catching in my throat, as his cock—once again hard—slid so very deep inside, sending a wave of pleasure rolling across my body. I licked my lips, and somehow said, "As far as they're concerned, you could be just another crackpot trying to cause mischief."

"They thought I was an angry husband." His words were distracted. "I had to use some excuse to get upstairs and plant the bugs."

Again, that was plausible, and yet my antenna twitched. "Why would Starke let you up there and yet meet me downstairs?"

"He didn't. I bribed the barman and several security guards to give me five minutes."

My mind was having a hard time concentrating against the delicious assault on my body. And yet I couldn't quite let the questions go. That would be giving in totally to the needs of my body and I'd done enough of that for one day.

"You shouldn't have killed Starke. We needed to question him about his partner—"

The words died as his lips crushed mine, ending all attempts on my part to continue the conversation.

I conceded defeat and closed my eyes, enjoying his caresses and kisses, until the slow burn of desire exploded and we came once again.

He kissed me a final time, soft and lingering, then said, "He needed to die for what he was doing."

"Kye, he was only fucking me. In the larger scheme of things, that really didn't matter."

Anger spurted, spinning around me, a firestorm that would not be tamed. "He wasn't just fucking you," he said, his golden eyes flashing. "He was taking what was mine, and he was draining you."

"I was dealing with it—"

"Yeah," he exploded. "I felt how you were dealing with it. Believe me, I wasn't impressed."

"He didn't end up with a knife in his back through magic," I retorted, and thrust a hand against his chest, trying to push him away from me.

He tightened his grip on my thighs and didn't budge. "I warned him," he growled. "I told him not to—"

He stopped.

Oh my God, I thought.

Not only had I been soundly fucked by one murdering son of a bitch today, but two.

"Come alone," he said, and before the meaning of his words had even really registered, his fist smashed into my jaw.

I was unconscious before my head hit the desk.