Bound to Shadows

Chapter Five

It was just before eleven when I arrived at Dante's, and the place was crowded. I slammed the car door shut and shoved the keys into my pocket as I walked towards the graffiti-covered building. A base beat that was both heavy and seductive crawled through the night, accompanied by the scent of desire and blood. Despite my distaste for what was happening inside the building, my pulse leapt and raced. I was a wolf, and desire was a scent as sweet to us as blood was to vampires.

If it had been the Blue Moon I was walking into rather than Dante's, I would have been tempted to pander to that surge of desire. But I had no intention of pursuing such a whim here—and not just because I distrusted strange vampires.

No, in this particular case, it was more not trusting myself if Dante made a serious attempt at seduction. The charged atmosphere, and the power of the man himself, was too dangerous a combination.

I showed my badge to the guy at the door, and he scowled as he opened the door. I carefully invaded his thoughts as I brushed past him. Hatred burned into my mind—hatred and anger. This vamp was one of the ones not overly pleased with the Directorate's execution of several vampires charged with killing blood whores.

Which made me wonder if he'd actually come to my aid if trouble hit inside—although I couldn't imagine Starke being happy if he didn't. After all, given the business he was running, he'd probably prefer to keep on the Directorate's good side—no matter what he might personally think about us.

Once inside, I waited until my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, then walked across to the bar. The same gum-chewing barman ambled up to serve me—although this time the towel he was using to dry the glass looked a whole lot cleaner.

"What can I do for you, Ms. Jenson?"

"Is your boss around tonight?"

He hesitated. "He is, but he's in a meeting and doesn't want to be disturbed."

Half of me wanted to use that as an excuse to just get the hell out of the place, but that would mean coming back a third time. "I need to see the security tapes your boss reckons he doesn't have. Can you arrange that, Boris?"

He raised a pale eyebrow, his blue eyes holding more than a little hint of amusement. "The boss said you'd be back for those. He left a message that you were to be directed into the security office and given the good coffee."

I snorted softly. "As if that's going to let him off the hook for giving me the run-around."

And given the apparent history between Jack and Dante, the only legitimate reason I think of for him doing something like that was to piss off Jack.

Boris's gum-chewing grin grew. "He also said that if you were still here after midnight, he would give you a more personal apology."

I glanced at my watch. I had fifty-eight minutes to get out of here, then. "I take it the tapes set up and ready to go?"

He nodded. "Security is the red door at the other end of the bar. I'll buzz them to let them know you're coming. Coffee will be along in five minutes."

"Thanks." I headed down towards the red door. The darkness seemed to get deeper the further into it I moved.

Many of the humans who were in the room wandered around like vapid ghosts, their expressions either edged with anxiety or pleasure, depending on where they were within their fix cycle. The cloying scent of blood and ecstasy mingled with undertones of hunger that were coming from the many vampires in the room, and despite my distaste for everything that was going on here, my pulse surged again. Desire—be it for blood or sex—was a powerful emotion, and no wolf was immune to its effects. Several vampires who leaned up against the bar about half way down the room stood up abruptly, their gazes swinging in my direction and teeth protruding in excitement. The scent of fresh, available blood did that to a vamp.

I got my badge out and held it up. It might be dark, but they'd see it well enough. "Sorry, boys, here on official business."

Their surge of excitement was snuffed out almost instantly. The lead vampire—a thin, brown haired man with a boyish face and ancient hazel eyes—looked me up and down, his lip curling in distaste.

"So you're one of those. Shame."

"If you mean that I'm a guardian, then yes. And I totally agree with it being a shame, but hey, sometimes you've got to go with the flow."

His dour expression suggested he didn't see any humor in my reply. Apparently, neither did the other three, who all edged closer to their leader and flexed various muscles. I raised my eyebrows, wondering if they were stupid enough to seriously consider attacking a guardian.

"Lay off, boys," the bartender said, his voice holding the whip of command. Obviously, the laid-back attitude was a front.

The brown haired man snarled, then turned around and stalked off into the shadows. His friends followed. Three seconds later they all had women on their arms.

I shook my head and glanced at the bartender. "All this freely available blood must be making them a little crazy."

He grinned. "They meant no harm. Besides, they know the boss won't abide any trouble inside the building."

And they feared Starke more than they feared a guardian. Or maybe they simply feared that Starke would cut them off from their easy feed.

I continued on to the red door and rapped my knuckles against it loudly—although the sound was almost lost in the thump of music coming from the speakers three feet away.

But the door opened, revealing a tall black vamp with startling green eyes. "You the guardian?"

"I am." I got out my badge and flashed it again.

He stepped aside and waved me in. "The tapes have been set up to run on the end computer. The boss said you'd want to view from one o'clock onwards."

One o'clock being the time Grant Haven had finished work and was walking towards Dante's, only to be met by someone wielding a saw. Why he'd simply let them hack off his head was a question I'd forgotten to ask Jack, which meant I'd actually have to read the report later.

But Mandy Jones had reported his death at one-twenty, so at least there weren't going to be mountains of tape to view.

"That's perfect." I walked over to the desk and sat down.

The vamp shut the door then ambled over. "Press this button to play, this one for slo-mo, and that one for pause. If you want to print any of the frames, just hit this one."

"Thanks."

He nodded and went back to his screens. I pressed the play and leaned back in the chair, watching as the computer worked its way through the various tapes. The bartender came in with my coffee about half way through, the scent of cinnamon and hazelnut filling the small room.

"I'll have one of those," the big vamp said, not taking his eyes off the screens.

"Then you can get it yourself at shift change," the bartender said, slamming the door as he exited.

"He's such a charmer," the black guy muttered. "You do realize he only got you one because he wants to get into your pants?"

"Actually, it's your boss that wants to do that." I took a sip of the hot liquid, and sighed in pleasure. "How long have you worked here?"

He shrugged. "A year and a half."

The timer was winding up to one-twenty, so I concentrated on the screen for several minutes, but could see neither Mandy nor the stranger who'd apparently paid her to call the murder in. As the camera view switched, I said, "And do you enjoy it?"

"Yeah. The conditions here are pretty good."

I glanced at him. "They are? The place looks pretty run down to me, and I imagine staff amenities are much the same."

He flashed me a grin, revealing rows of shiny white teeth but no fangs. He wasn't getting turned on by what he was watching on the screen, but then, I suppose if he was, he'd be of no use in this job.

"Most club venues have pretty crappy amenities for staff, no matter how up-market they claim to be."

"So why not work at one with a better rep?"

"Because this one pays above-the-average wages."

"Why? No offense, but it doesn't exactly look like a hard job, and this place hasn't had much in the way of trouble." At least, not the sort that attracted police or Directorate intervention. Not until the recent beheading on its front doorstep, anyway.

"Maybe there's been no trouble because the boss pays us well to ensure there isn't."

Good point. I sipped my coffee for several minutes, watching the ebb and flow of blood seduction on the screen. The timer was again nearing one-twenty. I leaned forward, watching the screen closely.

Mandy suddenly appeared in camera view. A tall, dark-haired vampire escorted her into the corner shadows, lifted her arm, and bared his teeth. A look of pure ecstasy crossed her face as his teeth pierced her flesh and he began to drink.

"What's Dante like as a boss?"

He shrugged. "Keeps to himself, mostly. We only see him if there's trouble."

"What about the ladies? I imagine he's got a few of them traipsing to and from his bedroom."

He laughed. It was a surprisingly high sound—like his voice was on the edge of breaking. It made me wonder just how old he'd been when he'd turned. His gangly frame did remind me somewhat of a teenager, but not all vamps were muscle bound. Quite the opposite, in fact.

"With his looks, and that mojo he has happening? Hell, yeah. There's practically a parade of woman traipsing upstairs to be with him."

"So he picks his bedmates from the women in the club?" Dante didn't actually seem the type to go for blood whores. But then, why would he run a club like this if he wasn't?

"No." He hesitated. "But some of them seem the type. They have that look, if you know what I mean."

I did. But if Starke wasn't getting his bed partners from this club, did that necessarily mean that he was getting them from others? And if that was the case, why would he bring them back here?

Was it some weird method of gaining more customers for his club, or was something else going on?

On a whim, I took out my phone, accessed my cars computer, and called up the photo of Renatta Bailey. "This wouldn't happen to be one of the women, would it?"

I turned the screen around so he could see it. He took a quick glance, then shook his head. "Not that I've seen, although I'm not on shift twenty-four hours a day. But she looks a little too up market to be visiting a place like this."

"And Starke's ladies didn't?"

"No. They mightn't have all been whores, but they looked like the ladies do here. Trashy."

I wondered how Mandy Jones would react to being called trashy. Then I remembered the desperate awareness in her eyes, and realized she'd probably agree.

On the screen, Mandy's shadow-bound tryst with her vampire ended. He bowed lightly then disappeared off screen, obviously intent on finding his next mark. Another man approached. He was wearing a black trench coat that concealed the shape of his body, but his shoulders were broad and he walked with a long legged grace that not only reminded me of a cat on the prowl, but also seemed a little too familiar.

My gaze flicked up to the hair. It was blond, not dark red I'd half been expecting, but that didn't mean anything. The face underneath the hair was dominated by a bulbous nose and sharp cheeks. But Kye had proven to be amazingly adept at disguising himself in the past.

The stranger approached Mandy and began talking to her. He kept his back to the camera, and I wasn't able to see if any money changed hands. He left, and three seconds later, another blond-haired man approached her, this man also broad-shouldered, but walking with a heavier gait and a slight limp. Again, the camera was at the wrong angle to fully see what was going on, but he also left as quickly as he'd approached.

I rewound the tape, printed out snapshots of both men, then glanced at my watch. Nine minutes to spare. Brilliant.

"I think that's it," I said, retrieving the printouts. "Thanks for your help."

He nodded. "Tell that lazy bastard tending bar I'm still waiting for my coffee."

"I believe he told you to get it yourself."

"He always tells me that." He flashed me a grin that was decidedly boyish. "But he's almost as keen on men as he is women, and he wants to get into my pants something bad, too. He always comes up with the goods in the end."

"Meaning you'll probably have to reciprocate in the long run. "

"Oh, I will. But I also believe in making them wait. Keeps them keen."

I grinned. "Waiting isn't something we wolves worry about."

"Well, it's not exactly something I practice when it comes to blood, but a relationship is different." He gave me a sketchy wave and turned his attention back to his screens.

I closed the door shut and headed back to the bar. The barkeep—minus his tea towel for a change—ambled up. "All done?"

I slid the now empty coffee mug over to him, then folded the printouts and tucked them into my pocket. "Yes. Thank your boss for me."

"If you wait a few minutes, you can thank him yourself."

I grinned. "A pleasure I shall forgo."

His own smile grew. "You'd need to say that with a little less sarcasm if you want me to believe you."

"Next time I want you to believe me, I might give it a try."

He snorted softly, then gave me a nod and walked over to serve another customer. I headed out. The bouncer wasn't at the door when I exited, which was unusual. Maybe there'd been some trouble inside somewhere. I hadn't noticed anything, but that was probably why Starke kept so many guards on staff—to put out the flames of a fight before they got too hot.

I was about a dozen steps away from my car when I realized I was no longer alone. Two figures appeared out of the shadows of the house ahead. The back of my neck tingled, warning that there were two more men behind me. Four men in total—the same four men who'd confronted me inside the club earlier.

I flared my nostrils, tasting the anger in their rancid, scents.

These guys were as stupid as they'd seemed.

I stopped and held up my hands. The footsteps of the two men behind me were whisper soft, and with the breeze flowing past me, it was difficult to judge just how close they actually were. But I had more than just regular senses at my call, and it was those I relied on now. They were still out of kicking range. "Guys, you really don't want to do this."

The hazel-eyed leader gave a slight sneer. "It's four vampires against one woman, guardian. I'm thinking the odds might be in our favor."

"And I'm thinking you're all fucking idiots." I shifted my feet a little, adjusting my weight so that most of it was balanced on my right leg. The men behind me were almost close enough. Almost. "Attacking a guardian will get you into more trouble than you could ever imagine. You really don't want to do this."

He flexed his fingers and gave me a grin that was all teeth. "You guardians killed a blood brother. His only crime was obeying the wishes of a whore, and he was punished for it."

"It's against the law to suck a human dry. You may not like it, but it's the law and we have to enforce it." As my skin began to burn with the closeness of the two vampires, I twisted, sweeping my leg up and around. The blow took the first vampire on the chin and the second in the chest, pushing them both backwards. I followed through with a punch, smashing the first vampire's nose, sending blood and snot and god knows what else flying. He dropped like a stone to the pavement and I spun around, looking for the second vamp. He was already out of reach.

Still, three against one was better odds by far.

But I had little time to appreciate it as the other two attacked. They were fast and strong and coming from different directions, and I found myself backing up against the onslaught of their fists and feet. I barely missed connecting with a one-two punch to my face, felt the breezy approach of another and ducked, only to see the blur of an oncoming boot. I threw myself backwards, twisting as I did so, landing on all fours and launching myself upright. One of them landed on my back, his spindly arms and legs wrapping around my body as his teeth tore into my shoulder. A scream rolled up my throat but I gritted my teeth against it, forcing myself to concentrate as the other two vamps came at me.

I dropped, sweeping with one leg—the movement somewhat awkward and cramped thanks to the moron stuck to my back. The vampire avoided the blow then launched himself towards me. I twisted, punching upwards, wishing like hell I had my wooden stilettos right now. They sure would have been handy—although a blow to the privates nevertheless took another attacker out. It just wasn't as satisfyingly painful to him as a stake would have been.

Then a fist connected with my chin and knocked me sideways. I crashed down onto fours, the rough road surface tearing at my palms as I skidding along for several feet. I shook my head, trying to clear it, trying to ignore the pain and just get up. The vampire on my back was still clinging like a leech and the smell of blood tainted the air, intensifying the whole situation.

The footsteps of another approaching vampire loomed large. I had to move or this whole situation could get really bad.

Then another scent hit me—orange blossom and dark spices.

Starke.

The footsteps of the third vampire abruptly stopped, and a heartbeat later, bones cracked. I grabbed the thumbs of the leech on my back, pushing them backward—hard. As he screamed, I threw myself backwards onto the ground, smashing his head against the roadside and crushing him beneath me.

Starke appeared before me, his golden eyes burning with so much fury that they glowed.

"Please accept my apologies," he said, holding out a hand. "The guard at the door is supposed to prevent things like this from occurring, and has been appropriately dealt with for his lapse."

I untangled myself from the arms and legs that were still wrapped around me, then placed my hand in Starke's and let him haul me upright. He did so with little effort and, surprisingly, released me straight away.

Which didn't mean the ever-so-brief touch had no effect. Quite the opposite, in fact. "It's hardly your fault these four decided to be morons." I barely resisted the urge to wipe the lingering heat of his flesh from onto my jeans. He'd basically saved my life, so the least I could do was not insult him by showing such an outwardly adverse reaction to his touch. "Or that the bouncer values his hatred more than his job."

He smiled, but there was nothing warm about it, and I was suddenly damn glad that look hadn't been aimed my way. Jack might not have a very high opinion of this vampire, but I suspected he was way more dangerous than he was letting on.

"Whether or not he has specific grudges against guardians should never have come into it. He was employed to do a job and I expected him to do it."

I couldn't really argue with that. I looked past him. The vampire he'd stopped—who happened to be the leader of this little band of morons—was lying on the ground, his back twisted at an odd angle. Meaning it was broken. While this wasn't a fatal wound for a vampire, it sure as hell put them through a slow and painful recovery. I can't say I was sorry about that. Although if his friends didn't get him out of the street before dawn, he wouldn't have to worry about the pain. He'd be burnt to a crisp by the sunlight.

Couldn't say I'd be sorry about that, either.

I looked back at Dante. Anger still burned in his golden eyes, but the heat of it had tampered a little, its force replaced by a heat that was more sexual in nature. Surprisingly, there was no spark of blood hunger lighting the deeper depths—an oddity given the blood that still poured down my back.. But maybe he'd just fed. The meeting the bartender had mentioned could very well have been code for feeding.

I wondered if he fed during sex, like Quinn. I couldn't actually smell sex on him, just the delicious aroma of desire. It was a wave of heat that caressed my skin as sensually as any touch, and it sent little prickles of longing shuddering through my body.

This vampire was dangerous all right—and not just in the way I'd presumed moments ago.

I stepped away, trying to deflate the intensity of my awareness, suddenly glad that not every vampire had sexual glamor. Non-humans and humans alike would have been in deep trouble if they had.

He smiled and closed the distance between us again.

"How badly did the vamp on your back wound you?" he asked, his golden gaze flicking to the vampire behind me. It was just as well he was still unconscious, because if that look was anything to go by, he would have suffered a fate far worse than a broken back.

"I've had worse," I said, which was true enough. Even so, I'd have to shift shape soon or Quinn would have to forgo his feeding the next time we made love. I stepped further away, but it didn't ease my hunger for the golden vampire.

Amusement played about his lush mouth. "Why not come back to the club and clean yourself up? I promise not to peek while you strip down."

Yeah, believing that. "I'm afraid I'm expected back at the Directorate—"

"And you wouldn't stay anyway, even if I offered you your favorite coffee." He paused, studying me. "I find it odd that a werewolf is so reluctant to pursue such an obvious attraction."

"And we both know that this isn't an attraction, but the sexual glamor you're using on me."

"Ah. You know about that."

"Yeah, so stop it."

He waved his hands and somehow managed to look woebegone. "If only I could. But alas, it is part of my make-up and therefore uncontrollable."

"Other women might buy that. I don't." I took the printouts from my pocket. "Don't suppose you know either of these men, do you?"

He took the photos from me, his fingers somehow managing to brush mine and send yet another delicious shiver of desire skating through me.

"That one, no," he said, giving me back the one I suspected was Kye in disguise. "This man isn't a regular, but I have seen him around before. I believe his name is Luke. Luke Johnson."

"Is he a vamp?"

"Human. The few times he was in the club, he was fed on, not feeding." He handed me back the printout. "If you'd like, I can ask around and see if any of my staff know of him."

"I'd like." I folded the pictures up and shoved them back into my pocket. "If you do happen to find anything, just call the Directorate."

"If I find anything, I shall insist you come and get it. After all, I just saved your life, so you can hardly deprive me of another glimpse of your beauty."

I snorted softly. "Do shitty pick up lines like that often work for you?"

His sudden grin had my hormones racing about excitedly. "Totally. In fact, it's working now—only you won't acknowledge it."

He had that right. "Again, thanks for your help."

"My pleasure," he said. Then, moving with lightning speed, he caught my hand and dragged me against his long, strong body. His free hand slid under my sweater, caressing skin, sending delighted shivers up my spine. "Are you sure you don't want to come back? That wound bleeds profusely and should really be tended to."

His lips were so close that his breath burned mine, and suddenly it was all I could do not to stand on my tippy-toes and kiss him. "Starke, release me or I'll kick you in the balls."

And that would hurt, given the current rock hard state of that area.

"I'm only trying to help—"

"Bullshit. Now release me."

He sighed dramatically and did as I asked. I stepped back and tried to ignore the hammering of my heart. And the urge to step right back into the hard warmth of his embrace.

"Don't try that again, Starke, or there will be trouble."

Amusement glittered in his bright eyes. "Trouble and I are old companions. I enjoy its taste." His gaze swept down me then rose to meet mine again. His desire was stronger than ever before, scorching my skin. "As I will eventually enjoy tasting you."

He gave me a slight bow then walked away before I could say anything, his gait effortless and sexy.

Lord. I mentally slapped the lusty image away, then shifted shape and trotted to the car. Once back in human form, I took off my blood-sodden sweater and shredded bra, chucked them in the trunk, and retrieved the spare t-shirt I kept there for emergencies.

As I climbed into the car, my phone rang. I turned the key in the ignition to warm the engine, then answered the call. "Riley here."

"Riley? Liander. Rhoan's just been shot."

My heart just about stopped. For several minutes, I couldn't think, couldn't speak, couldn't do anything. Rhoan had been shot. And I hadn't felt it. Hadn't even known he was in trouble.

"He's okay," Liander added quickly. "The bullet winged him, nothing more. They've almost finished stitching the wound and it looks fine."

If he was in a hospital, then it was more than just a graze. I needed to get there. "Where is he?"

"At the Albert Hospital. But there's no need to come here—meet us at home."

"Liander, I can't—"

"Riley," Liander interrupted, tone stern. "He's okay. He's being released, but it'll take us at least another hour to finish up here and get home, so you might as well meet us there."

I took a deep, shuddering breath. He was right, I knew that, but the urge to run to my twin's side was an instinct I couldn't easily shake. "Okay, I see you there."

"Good."

I hit the end button, then glanced down as the phone beeped again. This time it was a text. I opened the message.

How's your brother? it said. Silver bullets can cause such nasty wounds.

Just that. Nothing more.

But I didn't need anything more, because I knew exactly who it was from.

Kye was a dead man.

#

With Rhoan safe and Liander advising me to meet them at home rather than the hospital, it was an easy decision to go after Kye. I already had an appointment set up with the man, and the attempt on Rhoan's life made me eager to keep it.

Which was probably the reason he'd shot Rhoan in the first place.

Proximity Drive in Brooklyn turned out to be a road filled with hulking great warehouses. Number five was caged by wire, but unlike the others in the street, it wasn't surrounded by tower lights. It sat in the shadows—a long, slender building that seemed out of place amongst its beefier peers.

I drove up to the gates, but before I could wind down the window and press the intercom button, the gates began to open. I leaned forward and spotted the camera perched atop the posts. Kye must have been watching for me. No surprise there.

I sucked in a breath that did little to control anger still roiling inside, then lifted my foot off the brake and drove forward. A solitary light gleamed about half way down the long white building, illuminating a heavy steel door.

I parked in a bay near the door, then transferred Cole's report from the computer to my phone and climbed out. There was another camera perched above the doorway, and the door clicked open as I approached it.

"Follow the hallway," came Kye's instructions, seemingly out of nowhere because I couldn't see a speaker. "I'm in the second room on the right."

The door swung shut behind me. The only light on in the place seemed to be coming from a semi-shut doorway down the far end of the hall. The air was crisp and cold, and my nipples puckered in response. I crossed my arms—though it didn't do a lot to alleviate the chill—and walked forward.

It took all my control not to run.

Unsurprisingly, the second doorway on the right was the one emitting the light into the hall. I pressed my fingertips against the cool metal and slowly opened it. I wasn't sure what to expect, but it sure as hell wasn't a rifle range.

Kye was shooting at a target set far down at the other end of the room, but the minute I walked in, he swung around. The gun was long and mean-looking, and it was aimed squarely at my heart.

I stopped. I might want to kill him, but I didn't want to die in the process. "You shot my brother."

The gun didn't waiver. Neither did the waves of cool amusement that were coming off him. He was dressed in jeans and a tight fitting black t-shirt, and part of me couldn't help admiring the way it defined his back and clung to the top of his biceps.

Obviously, my wolf was as insane as the man she was admiring.

"I thought," he said, his voice flat and oh-so controlled, "you might need a little reminder about our meeting tonight."

"He's a guardian, Kye. You just committed an arrestable offence."

"Arrest me, and both your brother and that mate of his will be dead within the hour."

Fury boiled through me, but it was accompanied by bitter confusion. "Why do this? He's my twin—anything you do to him might just rebound back through me to you."

He raised an eyebrow. "And you think I care?"

I didn't know what to think. "I was coming here anyway. You didn't have to shoot him to make your point."

"You and I both know you'd forgotten about our meeting."

He was right—I had. But how the hell had he known that? He could sometimes read my thoughts, but up until now, I hadn't realized it was a long distance occurrence. "I'll damn well kill you if you try anything like that again."

He finally looked up from the rifle's sights and gave me a cold, hard smile. "No you won't. The difference between me and you, Riley, is that you have people you care about. I don't."

Not even me, the woman who was his soul mate.

And while that should have made me happy, it only increased the anger. At him, at me, and at this whole, twisted situation.

I flexed my fingers, trying to ease the tension in my body. It didn't help. Nothing would. Not when it came to dealing with this man and his perverse games.

The worst of it was, there was nothing I could do about any of it. He was right about one thing—I had people I cared about and I would not risk their lives. Even if that meant having to accept this man into mine.

"Care for a little shooting practice?" he said, and the intensity of his gaze had my stomach doing flip flops. "I've always wondered which one of us was better. And faster."

"Giving me a gun might not be the wisest of moves right now," I said, desperately trying to hold on to the anger. To not give into the urge to walk to this man and claim what my body craved. Damn it, he shot my brother.

But right now, my wolf didn't seem to care.

"Why were you at Dante's the night Grant Haven was killed?"

He raised an eyebrow, then proceeded to break the rifle apart, quickly cleaning the various parts before putting them away in a luxuriously padded case. Only when everything was safe did he answer.

"Why do you smell like you've been covered in blood?"

"I asked my question first." Which sounded decidedly childish, but this man made it extremely easy to act that way.

Although there was nothing childish about the way he was looking at me. Nothing childish about the affect it had on me.

His lush lips twisted into a half smile as he walked forward. On any other man, that smile would have been seriously sexy. On Kye, it was simply dangerous.

"I was there following a lead. Nothing more, nothing less."

He stopped an arms length from me. Close enough that his heat and scent surrounded me. Close enough to reach out and touch if I wanted to.

I didn't touch, but that didn't mean I didn't want to.

I licked my lips, saw his gaze drop to follow the movement. Smelled the sweet surge of his desire. Clenched my fists against the urge to claim the kiss we both hungered for.

"What did you talk to Mandy Jones about?" Surprisingly, my voice sounded near to normal. Given the desire rolling through me, I'd expected husky.

"We talked about several of the men she'd been with. She didn't provide any useful information."

"So you didn't talk to her about the vampire beheaded outside the club?"

"No, I did not."

"I will check, you know."

"Check all you want. I'm not lying." His gaze swept down me then rose, pinning me. "Your turn."

I shrugged. "Four vamps felt the need to attempt a little retribution."

"You obviously beat them."

"Not without a little help. It happened outside Dante's, and the owner came to my rescue."

"Did he now?" There was an edge in his voice that surprised me. It almost seemed as if he were angry. Furious, even. "Did he kiss you?"

I frowned. "Why?"

"Because I've heard him boast that once he kisses a woman, she is his unto death."

And I could hardly be Dante's when I was his. I snorted. This wolf was a control freak. "He tried to, but I threatened to knock his balls through his ass and that seemed to do the trick."

Although if he had really tried, would I have been so resistant? Somehow, I didn't think so.

He seemed to relax a little. "How badly were you hurt?"

"One of them had something of a flesh fetish. He took a chunk out of my shoulder before he started feeding." I shrugged again. "It's just another scar to add to the list."

"Show me."

"Kye, it's fine. I shifted shape—"

He moved, his right arm slashing downwards, something sharp and silver glittering in his hand. A heartbeat later, the front of my t-shirt fell open, the knife slicing through it like butter but never touching my skin.

"If you don't want the rest of the shirt sliced up, you'll show me the wound."

His voice was hard and cold, the total opposite of his eyes. I returned his gaze, wishing I could just smash the arrogance from his face and walk out, yet unable to do it. I might hate him, but I needed this. Needed him. Not just sexually, but in a deeper, more fundamental way. After six months apart, it suddenly seemed as if he was as vital to my wolf as air.

Without a word, I shucked off the remains of my t-shirt and turned around. I didn't hear a step, but the scent of him swirled more strongly around me—a sensual and heated caress that had my nostrils flaring and body burning.

Then his fingers brushed my skin and it was all I could do not to press back into his caress.

"It's going to leave one hell of a nasty scar," he murmured, his voice flat and emotionless as he slid his fingers slowly down my spine. "And your pants are soaked with blood. Best not to let the vampire bite you for a few days."

"What the vampire and I do is none of your business." I spun around before the knife could flash and my jeans met the same fate as the t-shirt. "Where the fuck did you pull that from?"

"This?" He rolled the weapon through his fingertips, the blade a blur of silver fire. "Sheath at the small of my back. And you'd be wrong about it being none of my business."

I ignored the latter part of his comment, and said, "That blade is silver, so I take it the sheath is lead-lined?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Why would you care one way or the other?"

"I don't." I was just curious. Silver was deadly to a wolf, and it was extremely unusual for one of us to carry it so close. But then, he also used silver bullets in his gun. Obviously, he wasn't worried about his own weapons being used against him. I retrieved the phone from my pocket. "Give me your phone number, and I'll transfer the file you wanted."

"Why don't you just tell me the important bits." The blade disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. This wolf was frighteningly fast.

"You know, as much as I'd really love to stand here and chat about the case—" My voice was dry and a smile touched the corners of his mouth— "the fact is I haven't actually read the file."

"Sarcasm is something of a fall back for you, isn't it?"

"Much the same as murder is for you. Do you want the file or not?"

"I want the file." His voice was soft, and the smile still played about his mouth. I tried to ignore it, but my damn gaze kept dropping. "I also want this."

His hand snaked out and wrapped around the back of my neck, dragging me to the lips I'd been desperately trying to avoid.

His kiss was heated and hard, and it was everything I craved, everything I wanted. I gave in to the power of it, wrapping my arms around his neck, clinging to him, tasting him as fully as he tasted me.

He gave a low growl in the back of his throat and suddenly I was being pushed backwards. My back hit the wall and I grunted at the force of it, yet still I kissed him, my wolf desperate for his taste and his touch after such a long absence.

His hands cupped my breasts, squeezing and teasing as his lips left mine, kissing my face, my neck, my throat. I shuddered, my legs suddenly weak, my knees threatening to buckle at the force of pleasure rolling through me.

I grabbed his T-shirt and ripped it up the middle, exposing the beauty of his chest and stomach. I slid my hands up his abs, feeling the quiver in his muscles, reveling at the intensity of desire so evident there.

He undid the button and the zip on my jeans, then his hand was sliding past the elastic of my panties, down to the place that was so wet and eager for his touch. I moaned as he touched my clit, arching forward into his touch, wanting more. He chuckled softly and thrust his fingers deep inside me.

But as good as it felt—as desperately as I wanted that and more—sanity sparked somewhere deep inside.

No matter how much I might crave this, I couldn't let it go any further. It would only strengthen the ties that bound us.

So I shoved my hands against his chest and pushed him away from me as hard as I could.

He flew backwards, but all too quickly regained his balance, his hand instinctively reaching for the knife sheathed at his back. I shifted my stance, ready for anything, my breathing little more than pants of air.

Then his gaze met mine and his hand dropped. But he didn't relax, and neither did I.

This wolf was an explosion waiting to happen.

"I didn't come here for sex, Kye. And I will not give in to this."

"You have no choice." His voice was rough with the urgency that still burned between us. "Neither of us do."

"We're not animals, Kye, and I will control this." I bent and retrieved my phone from the floor, though I couldn't remember even dropping it. "Phone number?"

He spat the numbers out. I transferred the file, then shoved the phone into my pocket and did up my jeans. "I'll be going now. Don't bother walking me out."

He smiled. It was a cold, hard thing. "Don't think you're going to get away that easily."

I didn't even look at him, just turned and walked for the door.

"I want to see you again, Riley."

I ignored him and kept walking. It was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life.

"Lunch tomorrow, at Franklin's in La Trobe Street. Wear something nice. They have a strict dress code for entry."

I spun around at that. I couldn't help it. "You want a fucking date? Why, when neither of us want this relationship?"

"I may not want the relationship, but I want you, and I also want information about this case. And I always get want I want, Riley. One way or another."

I stared at him, hating him more than ever, and yet fearing what he could do. He was a killer without conscience, and the threat he posed to those I loved loomed large in my mind.

"That's blackmail on top of attempted murder, Kye. I can now officially kill you."

He moved with frightening speed. One minute his hand was empty, the next there was a gun in it. I think he pulled it from an ankle holster, but I wasn't one hundred percent certain. "And this is loaded with silver bullets. Don't think I won't hesitate to shoot if I need to, Riley."

My hands where clenched so hard my fingernails were digging into my palm. I forced myself to relax, and gave one short, sharp nod. "Franklins at lunchtime, then."

I turned and walked out. But I was barely through the door when he added, "And Riley? Stay away from Starke."

I didn't ask why. I just got the hell out of there.