Deadly Desire

Chapter Eleven

Waking was a slow and painful process. My head throbbed so badly it made me want to throw up, but it was almost matched by the burning ache in my right shoulder. An ache that pulsed down my arm as it went numb.

Fear hit me-a fear so deep that for several seconds I struggled to breathe.

I knew that burning. Knew it all too well.

I'd been shot with silver and the bullet was still lodged in my flesh.

I forced reluctant eyelids open, needing to know where I was and what had happened while I was out of it. A white ceiling loomed high above me, meaning they'd moved me from the cavern. But that ceiling didn't actually look like one of the club ceilings, either. The cornices were too ornate, the ceiling itself too high.

Plus, the air here smelled different. It was fresher, with undertones of baking and roses rather than the club's seedier aroma of alcohol and lust.

Which didn't mean there wasn't magic here. There was, but it wasn't as strong. It was more a wisp of darkness that occasionally stained the fresher scents rather than something that overwhelmed and completely fouled.

I shifted slightly, trying to ease the ache in my hip, and realized I was laying on something cold and hard. I shifted my left fingers and touched the surface.

Metal. And unlike the table in the cavern, this one didn't smell like blood-although that aroma was in the air, if only faintly. I drew in a deeper breath, sifting through the smells in the air, finding strong hints of antiseptic swirling around the tang of old blood. This table and this room had been washed down many, many times.

As full awareness began to return, I also realized that the burning numbness in my right arm was matched-to a lesser degree-by similar sensations at both ankles and my left wrist.

I turned my head, saw the silver shackles and chains attached to my arm, and swore softly.

Behind me, someone chuckled.

"I'm glad you're awake, little werewolf," Hanna said, her voice friendly, almost conspiratorial. "I did so want you to see your death coming."

"That's another mistake in a long line of them, Hanna. Always kill a guardian when you get the chance, because we don't give you a second go."

"Well, this time the bad guy wins, not the guardian. And your blood will provide excellent fuel for my magic and potions."

Like hell it would. I twisted around, trying to see her. The movement not only caused chains to pull at my wrist and dig farther into my skin, but sent a stab of agony through the rest of my body as my shot shoulder protested the action. Sweat broke out across my forehead, and my breath hissed out through clenched teeth. It took several seconds for the tears to clear enough to see her.

Hanna was standing behind me, a tall, willowy woman who looked far older than she had in the office. Maybe it was the lack of makeup, or maybe it was the fact that her only items of clothing were a pale green ribbon tying her dark hair away from her face and the thin strand of wire around her neck. Her green eyes had a wild sort of look to them, and her skin was unnaturally shiny, as if she'd covered herself in oil of some kind.

"What have you done with Kye?"

She raised an eyebrow, green eyes cool and amused. "I'm guessing you mean the man who was with you?"

"Yes."

"Oh, he's probably bled to death by now."

Something within me wanted to curl up and die at the thought. It was weird-I might have lusted after the man, but I didn't actually like him, and yet here I was, wanting to weep for his loss. The wolf sure was strange at times.

"It's a shame, really," Hanna continued, "to waste all that good blood, but shifting three bodies would have placed too much strain on both my magic and me."

"You'll regret letting him die, Hanna."

"Oh, I'd be a little more worried about your health, if I were you."

I was worried all right, but I'd been in worse situations than this and had survived. And I had no intention of dying today, either.

Whether fate agreed with my decision was another matter entirely, but I wasn't worrying about that right now.

"Tell me, how did you and Jessica meet?"

It obviously wasn't a question she was expecting, because she looked up in surprise. "Why do you want to know?"

"Just curious." I shrugged, the action sending pain rolling across my skin.

"We grew up together," she said after a moment. "Like me, she had a gift for darker powers and was ostracized by her family because of them."

I could understand the two odd peas clinging together for safety and companionship, because in very many ways, that's what Rhoan and I had done. But why go on to become such violent murderers?

"And you looked after her when she had her accident and became paraplegic?"

"It was no accident," she said, voice a little tighter.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," she said tightly, "that the rich young bastard who paralyzed her first seduced her mother before he beat them both up and drained her mother to death."

I guess that explained why she seemed to be going after the more affluent vamps rather than any old vamp. "Why didn't he kill Jessica?"

"Her back was broken-shattered-so badly that shifting couldn't heal it. She started screaming for help, and their neighbors heard and called the cops. That's the only thing that saved her."

"So you started killing vampires as revenge for what happened to her?" I shifted my head a little more, until my ear pressed against the hard stone. I didn't know if that would actually turn on the com-link's sound, but I had to at least try it. I'd left tracking on as ordered, but the Directorate wouldn't actually come running unless they realized I was in trouble. Sal might be good at guessing when that might be, but with the way fate liked playing games with me, I could place money on the fact that the one time I needed Sal to act would be the one time she didn't.

"It wasn't the only reason," Hanna said, her concentration on whatever she was crushing in a small earthen bowl rather than on me.

As concoctions went, it smelled rather nice, reminding me of forest and herbs. And that set all sorts of alarm bells ringing.

A dark sorcerer mixing up something that smelled good, when every other ounce of her magic smelled so foul? It had to be an illusion of some kind. And if that was, maybe everything else was, too.

I squinted up at the ornate ceiling, trying to see a shimmer or a wobble, or anything else that would suggest it was little more than a fancy trick rather than a reality. But it stubbornly remained looking like plain old plaster. In fact, if not for the fact that this was the domain of a dark sorcerer, I'd swear we were just in a windowless room of an ordinary house. An almost empty one, granted, because the only bits of furniture were the table on which I lay, the large metal cart she was using, and a cluttered metal shelving unit that lined the wall opposite the door.

Would a sorcerer intent on blood sacrifices do so in the middle of suburbia?

But then, why wouldn't she? An ordinary, unassuming house would be as good a hiding place for evil deeds as any dark cavern.

I looked back at Hanna, the movement rattling the chains tying me to the table and sending yet more arrows of pain rolling through me. I tried to ignore it, but that was almost as impossible as ignoring the ache in my shoulder. Or the numbness in my arm that would soon slip insidiously through the rest of my body.

I had to get out of these chains, had to rip the bullet from my flesh, before either began doing permanent damage. And as sensitive as I was to silver, it wouldn't be all that long.

Trouble was, with the silver on and in my body, I couldn't shift shape, so my only real weapons were my strength and my telepathy. Given that the chains felt strong, it was doubtful that strength would get me free. Which left telepathy. And while she had a nanowire on, those could be beaten. So I gathered my strength and hit her mentally.

This time it didn't just feel like I hit a brick wall.

This time, I hit it and bounced off it.

It left me reeling mentally and for several seconds I felt like my head was going to explode.

"Oh," said the witch, her voice somewhat smug. "I should perhaps warn you that this room has been proofed against telepathy, both via magic and electronically."

"How can you proof a room against telepathy via magic?"

Speaking hurt. In fact, the words seemed to bounce around my brain like sharp little knives. But I had to get her talking. The more I delayed her plans, the more time it gave the Directorate to find me. And I had to hope they were on the way, because it was looking less and less likely that I was going to get out of this by myself.

"Dark magic can achieve anything if you're willing to pay the price for it."

"And what have you been willing to pay, Hanna?" The pain in my head had receded a little, meaning it hurt less to speak. Which might have been a good thing if it hadn't meant the burning ache from the silver in my shoulder intensified again.

"Oh, I began paying my price long before I came into the dark magic."

She was still mixing the herbs, and the aroma seemed to be getting stronger. My nose twitched, and despite the pleasing scent, I wasn't entirely sure my reaction was due to pleasure. That scent was still setting alarm bells off, and while I wasn't sure why, I'd learned long ago to listen to such warnings.

I tried twisting my wrist in the cuff, and discovered there was plenty of room to move around in them-but a quick snap back had my fist jamming fast. Still, maybe it I made it slick enough-wet enough-my wrist might just slip through. It was worth trying, and it wasn't as if I had any other option right now anyway.

Of course, the only way I was going to make my skin slippery was to draw blood, and that wasn't going to be pleasant. But it would surely be better than whatever Hanna was planning.

"Is that the other reason why you're killing the vampires? Because of the price you paid personally?"

"They are the killers, every one of them. Rich, dead, and killers reborn. It is an instinct with them, and they deserve nothing more than real death." Her voice had take on a slightly shrill edge, and she was pounding the mix so hard the bowl was in danger of breaking.

Obviously, vampires had done a whole lot more to her than just paralyze Jessica. And I was curious enough to want to know what.

"Not all vampires are bad," I said, still pulling at my wrist. The chains rattled every time I did it, but Hanna didn't seem to notice. I could only hope it remained that way. My skin had grown slippery rather quickly-thanks to the rough edges on the silver cuffs-and the scent of fresh blood filled the air. Thankfully, I was the only nonhuman in the room, so with any sort of luck, she wouldn't realize what I was attempting until it was too late. "Not all vampires deserve to die."

She thumped the pestle down on the table so suddenly I actually jumped. "You kill vampires for a living. You've seen the very worst they can do. Why the hell would you even think any of them deserve to live?"

"Because every race has its good and its bad. You can't judge the entire lot by a few bad examples."

She snorted and walked over to the shelving unit. "They all drink blood. They all have the capacity to go too far."

So did humans, but I didn't think she was going to be receptive to that sort of logic. I gave my wrist another experimental tug and it slipped, ever so slightly, through the cuffs. Not enough to escape, but enough to give me hope that it would work, if I kept persisting.

If she gave me time.

"Killing isn't just the province of vampires."

She swung around to face me, her expression one of pure fury. "It wasn't a human who attacked Jessica and put her in a wheelchair or who sliced my husband's head off in a fit of anger. It wasn't a human who stole and changed my daughter."

Something in the way she said that made my insides go cold. "What do you mean, changed?"

"What do you think I mean?" She slapped a knife and another larger bowl onto the table. "He made her one of them."

Vampires couldn't make humans change with just a bite. That was little more than a Hollywood myth. It took a blood ceremony and consent for a human to cross over, so if Hanna's daughter had become a vampire, she'd done so of her own free will.

The question was, just how badly had Mommy reacted to her daughter's decision?

If the wildness in her eyes was anything to go by, the answer could only be very badly indeed.

"What does your daughter think of you slaughtering her people?"

"Her people?"

Hanna's voice had become so shrill it made my ears ache. She picked up an empty bowl and threw it at me. I had nowhere to go and no way to avoid it, so it hit the top of my head-hard. The blow left me bleeding and stunned, and more determined than ever to get away from this crazy bitch. I yanked at my wrist harder, felt it slip through a little farther. A few more tugs, and I just might be free enough to defend myself.

"My daughter was human," she spat. "And she died human."

Even though I'd suspected that outcome, her words still made me sick. How could any mother, no matter how desperate, ever kill her own child? There were always other options. Always. You just had to reach out and talk to someone.

Though I guess that someone whose grip on sanity had to be fractional, at best, having her daughter turn into one of the "monsters" must have seemed the ultimate betrayal.

"So you killed your own flesh and blood?" I continued to yank at my wrist, the rough metal edges digging deeper and deeper into my flesh. It hurt like hell but I didn't care, because whatever this madwoman was planning to do with the goop in the bowl and that fucking long knife would surely hurt me more.

"I didn't kill her," she refuted, stalking back over to the shelving unit. "I saved her. Or rather, I saved her soul."

"How did you stop her from rising?" I gave a final pull on my wrist and it finally slipped free. The chains rattled like an alarm, and I grabbed wildly at the cuff to stop it from slipping to the floor.

With one wrist free, I could at least defend myself. But actually getting off this table and away from Hanna remained a problem. The numbness from the silver bullet still lodged in my shoulder prevented me from moving my other arm, and tugging on my ankle chains would not only create a whole lot more noise, it would be more visible.

"I bound her to the grave," Hanna said. "It cost me a lot, that binding, but at least I can sleep knowing my daughter is safe."

She selected a canister from the shelving unit and walked back over to the table. She raised the knife, sliced her scarred palm, and let the wound bleed into the smaller bowl. The sweet forest scent changed, suddenly becoming something deeper and darker, and yet still not totally unpleasant.

"Did you stake her?" I asked. "Chop off her head?"

She gave me a shocked sort of look. "Of course not! What do you think I am? A monster, like them?"

"Oh, I think you're something far, far worse, lady."

The words were out before I could stop them, but she merely laughed. It wasn't a sane sound, but that was no surprise.

"Because of the way I kill them? Believe me, I'm only doing to them what they did to my husband, to Jessica, and to my daughter."

"I don't care how you kill the vampires." Which was a lie, because no person, whether human or nonhuman, deserved to die the way those vampires had died-even if they had been the most brutal vampires ever to walk this earth. Which none of these had been.

Of course, I don't deny sometimes wishing a more brutal death on some of the bastards we hunted, but wishing and doing were two extremes that were never going to meet. And the guardian who did sink to the "eye for an eye" mode of thinking soon found himself out the door and on the most-wanted list.

"Then why do you think me a monster?" She picked up the canister and added several pinches of white powder to her mix. There was a flash, like a small explosion, and suddenly the dark, foresty scent was gone. In its place was a fouler, stronger scent that reminded me of the muck the zombie had thrown at me.

But why would she try and freeze me again if she already knew it didn't work? Or was this stuff stronger than the last mix?

God, I hoped not. I might only be half free, but at least I could defend myself if worse came to worst. If that stuff actually worked, I'd be in real trouble.

Like I wasn't already.

"You're a monster because of what you did to your daughter. Because you didn't kill her but instead bound her."

She frowned at me. "She was dead already. I bound her before the change, so what is the problem?"

She didn't get it. She really didn't. What a stupid, stupid bitch. "Binding a body doesn't stop said body from taking the change and rising as one of the undead. It just stops them moving out of the grave or communicating with their maker for help. What you've done is ensure your daughter a living hell of unlife in a coffin, with no hope of escape." I shook my head in contempt. "How could you not know that?"

And I guess it was yet another mess the Directorate would have to clean up. Although whether the daughter would actually be sane enough to rescue after years of being locked underground was another matter entirely-and not one that I'd have to decide. Thankfully.

There was a shocked silence, followed by a vehement, "No!"

"Yes," I spat back. "You would have been better off to stake her from the start."

She stared at me for several long minutes, then shook her head. "I don't believe you."

"Then go to her grave, Hanna. See for yourself."

"I have no need to, wolf." Her voice was flat. She refused to believe she could be wrong, that she could have doomed her daughter to a fate far worse than vampirism. "I know you're only lying to try and save yourself."

I didn't know how lying about her daughter's fate would actually do anything to save myself, but she obviously wasn't thinking clearly, so there was no point in saying anything else.

She walked over to the shelving and picked up a more ornate knife and another larger container, then walked back to the table. She exchanged the knife for the smaller bowl then walked across to where I lay. Luckily for me, she chose the right side rather than the left, and didn't notice I had one hand free.

Not that it would do me any good at the moment, because she simply wasn't close enough.

She placed the larger bowl on the floor, shifting it several times until she was satisfied, then rose and looked at me. "Don't you wonder how I'm about to kill you?"

I snorted softly. "Lady, dead is dead, no matter which way it comes at you."

Besides, she'd already told me she was going to bleed me. It said a lot about her state of mind that she couldn't actually remember that.

"That, I'm sorry to say, is very true."

She didn't look sorry. She looked positively ecstatic. She raised the smaller bowl and scooped her fingers inside, gathering a handful of the powder before throwing it down the length of my body. It took every ounce of control I had not to react, not to show my hand just yet. Truth was, she still wasn't close enough. I just had to hope the dust didn't do its stuff as well as it was supposed to.

The thick cloud settled around me, clogging my eyes and making my nose twitch. And it smelled even fouler than before. My body began tingling even as my muscles seemed to relax and feel oddly weak. Like before, only worse. I twitched my fingers, wriggled my toes. Response was slow, but it was there, at least for the moment. I had to hope it remained that way.

She grabbed another handful and threw it over me again. The tingling increased, and deep down, the wolf bared her teeth and roared to life. Her strength infused me, battling the sleepiness creeping over my body, keeping it at bay if not away altogether.

"If you have any questions, you'd better ask them quickly. It's a much stronger formula this time." Her voice was conversational-like we were best friends rather than mad sorceress and intended victim. "You taught me that this powder doesn't work as well on humans and other nonhumans as it does vampires, so I guess its better to be safe than sorry."

I could only hope she was wrong about the strength of the formula. But I asked my questions quickly, just in case she wasn't. "Did Jessica tell you she sent one of her creatures after the street kid?"

"She was in the room when that blackmailing little bastard rang. Personally, I would rather have taken care of him myself."

I bet. "Then the business cards you gave the teenagers were infused with some form of tracking magic?"

"Of course. How else would I have known exactly where to transport myself?"

She gave me a serene sort of smile, then turned away and walked back to the table. I twitched my extremities again, and was relieved to discover that everything that should wriggle did. The mix might be stronger, it might make the tingling fiercer, but it still wasn't completely freezing me. Which made me wonder if the mix was wrong, or whether the fact that I was a half-breed was fouling the reaction.

She returned carrying the knife. I didn't move, just watched her. To have any sort of chance against the woman, I needed her to get closer. Needed to grab that knife and use it against her flesh rather than mine.

She grabbed my right arm and pulled it away from my body. The arm was numb, so it flopped around like so much dead flesh, and she made a satisfied sound in the back of her throat. I held my tongue and didn't say anything, hopefully giving her the impression the powder had done its work and stolen the power of speech.

With my arm positioned on its side and presumably over the bowl, she clasped the ornate silver knife with both hands and raised it above her head.

Fear slithered through me. The mad bitch was going to cut off my arm. Why else would she need that much leverage to cut flesh? A quick slice along the forearm from the wrist was all it took to get a decent bleed-and yeah, werewolves were tough, but we still had skin like a regular human, not a rhinoceros.

She began to murmur, the words incomprehensible. Maybe it was sorcerer talk, maybe it was a prayer in some old language. I didn't really care, because my attention was on the gleaming knife being held above my body. I'd get only one chance at stopping that knife. Once she realized I was partially free, she'd no doubt either knock me out or kill me, and I wasn't overly thrilled with either option.

She continued to murmur and tension wound through me, tightening my muscles and making my stomach ache. The pain in my shoulder seemed to have retreated, but not the numbness. It was now creeping outward, reaching toward my neck. If I didn't remove the bullet soon, I'd be in real trouble.

The words stopped. For a moment that knife didn't move, just stayed high above me, glittering brightly in the semilight of the room.

Then it came down.

Fast.

I barely caught it. Whether it was the dust she'd sprinkled over me or the weakness washing though my body thanks to the silver, the fact was, the blade was inches from my flesh when I stopped it.

And I didn't stop it by the hilt, but by the blade itself, and the metal sliced into my flesh as easily as butter. Blood seeped past my clenched fingers and began to run into the bowl under my right hand. I didn't care. I ripped the weapon from her fingers, flipped the blade, and stabbed her.

But again I was too slow. She moved at the last moment, and the blow meant to pierce her heart got her in the side instead. A nasty wound, but not a deadly one.

She grunted and staggered backward, once again out of my reach. She slapped one hand against the wound, but it didn't stop the bleeding.

"For that," she hissed, "you will die horribly."

She raised her free hand and blue sparks began to dance across her fingertips. I drew back the knife, taking aim, knowing it was a risk to lose my one weapon but having little choice.

But before I could release the blade, something hit the door-hard-and the whole frame shuddered. Hanna spun as the door took another blow, and this time the wood splintered. She lunged for the table, her fingers grasping for the second knife as another blow hit the door, and this time it gave way.

Revealing the man I'd thought dead.

Kye.

He didn't even come into the room, just raised his gun and fired in one smooth motion. The bullet hit Hanna in the forehead and went straight through, splattering the back of her head against the wall behind her.

As her body slumped to the floor, I closed my eyes and sighed in relief. I'd been saved. Maybe not in the manner I'd expected-or by whom I'd expected-but life was life and I wasn't about to grumble.

"Any other problems I should know about?" he said, still standing, gun at the ready, in the doorway.

"Not that I know of. But you're the one sensitive to magic. For all I know, this room could have zombies hidden in the walls as well."

"I can't feel that sort of dark magic, and there's no pentagram on the floor." He lowered the weapon and his gaze met mine. "You look like shit."

I laughed softly and dropped the knife onto the metal tabletop. The clang rang out like a bell as I squeezed my hand shut, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Says the man who's covered in blood and missing a chunk of hair and flesh from the side of his head."

He holstered the weapon and walked toward me. Despite the scent of blood and sweat that lingered on him-or maybe even because of them-he smelled good.

"Silver cuffs?" he said, eyeing the chains intently.

"And a silver bullet in my shoulder. You need to get that out first."

He looked at me, his expression all cool efficiency. "There's only one easy way to do that, I'm afraid."

"There's no easy way to do it, and we both know it."

He gave me a cold smile. "And once again, you're wrong."

"Oh, will you just cut the crap and get on with it?"

"As you wish," he said, as he raised a fist and hit me hard. I was out before I could even swear at the bastard.

When I finally came to, I was in wolf form, which meant the bullet and the cuffs were both gone. The hard metal surface of the tabletop had been replaced by an even harder, colder tiled floor. My fur might have protected me from the chill of it a little better than my human skin, but the ache in my bones suggested I had been lying there for a while.

The air itself was also cold, and ripe with the scent of blood, death, and man-one man, no more. Kye hadn't called in help and I wasn't sure why I thought he might. He was a contract killer. Helping the Directorate and its people in any way, shape, or form would be a consideration only if it suited his own aims. I had no doubt he'd helped me because it was the only way he could get his kill and claim his payment.

And removing the bullet? Well, if he hadn't it might have killed me, and that wouldn't have been good for his health. He had no idea just how much I'd told the Directorate about his involvement in this case, and he was canny enough to suspect they'd come after him if I died.

I opened my eyes. Hanna's body still lay on the floor near the table, looking more fragile in death than she ever had in life.

Kye squatted against the wall opposite, watching me, his expression that of a predator sizing up an adversary. His dark red hair was still matted with blood, as were his clothes, and his face was battered and bruised.

I wanted him. And hated myself for it.

I closed my eyes and reached for my other form. Once the change had swept over my body, I sat upright and hugged my knees close to my chest. His very nearness had awareness tingling across my skin, and I could only thank God the moon heat had passed. Otherwise my crazy hormones might not have been so easy to control.

"I need to call the Directorate in," I said, my voice clipped. "If you don't want to be involved, you'd better leave."

"We need to talk first."

"Kye, there's nothing you and I need to talk about. Nothing."

Especially not the heat that simmered between us, nor the fact that he'd saved my life and I now owed him.

I dropped my gaze from his and concentrated instead on rotating my shoulder, trying to ease the stiffness out of it. At least I could move my arm and fingers again, even if the tips still felt a little numb. Given my sensitivity to silver, it was surprising the aftereffects hadn't lasted a whole lot longer. In fact, I felt amazingly strong, and given the blood I'd lost through the wound, that shouldn't have been the case.

"There's something very vital we need to discuss, and you know it."

His voice was flat, yet there was an edge in it that made me glance up at him again. His golden eyes burned with heat and passion, and something else, something else I really couldn't put a finger on. In any other man I would have called it fear, but this man didn't fear. Not anyone or anything.

"I really don't know what you're talking about, Kye."

And yet I did. He was talking about the heat and the lust that still burned. It was a flame that only seemed to be getting stronger the longer we were together. It was as if our bodies were calling to each other, something that neither of us really wanted and yet couldn't fight.

"And you really do need to go," I added. Almost desperately.

"I can't go before I know for sure."

He rose as he said it, and part of me wanted to scoot backward and keep the distance between us.

"There's nothing to know, Kye. Just leave it and go."

"I cant." The words were as desperate as mine. He didn't want this any more than I did, and yet this man-this wolf, who was as cold and as unemotional as any good killer could be-was as helpless against it as I was.

He stopped in front of me and offered me a hand. I ignored it, looking up at him instead. What I saw there-not just heat, not just desire, not even fear, but something stronger, deeper, and far scarier-made my heart stutter and my blood surge.

Because it was nothing less than fate looking out at me from those golden depths.

And suddenly, just like him, I had to know.

I placed my hand in his. He hauled me upright, into his arms. I barely had time to draw a breath against the fire of contact when his lips were on mine, the kiss harsh, fierce, and oh so passionate. The force of it drove me backward, until my back hit the wall. My barely healed shoulder took the brunt of the blow and pain slithered through me. But I didn't care, because it was nothing compared to the ache beginning to assault my body.

His hands were on me, caressing me, nipping me, teasing me. It was all passion, all heat and intensity, and I was drowning in it. Willingly, wantonly, until every bit of me was screaming for the ultimate release, and every muscle, every fiber, was so tightly strung it felt like I would shatter.

He ripped off my bodice, then the G-string. I unbuttoned his pants and shoved them down, every move as urgent as his. His strong hands cupped my butt and hauled me upward. I'd barely wrapped my legs around his waist when he was in me, and God, it was good. More than good.

Because it wasn't just our flesh that became joined.

This was a dance of body and soul, and it went far beyond mere intimacy, far beyond mere pleasure.

This was the moment I'd been waiting most of my life for, yet all I wanted to do was weep.

I didn't want it to be this man. I really didn't.

Then he began to move, and the pain of discovery was ripped away, lost in the glory of the moment. The rich ache grew, becoming a kaleidoscope of sensations that washed through every corner of my mind. Then the shuddering took hold and I gasped, grabbing his shoulders, pulling him toward me, pushing him deeper still. Then everything shattered and it was such a sweet, glorious relief that I wept.

Although most of the tears weren't tears of pleasure or joy.

For several seconds, neither of us moved, our breathing ragged echoes as we stood wrapped around each other. Then I released my grip on his waist and he lowered me to the floor. His expression was as neutral as my mind was chaotic, his golden eyes giving little away. He raised a hand to my face, reaching for but not quite touching my cheek, then dropped it and stepped back.

"So now we know."

"Yes." My voice was clipped. I wanted to stamp my feet and rant and rage-at him, and at fate-but there was absolutely no point. It was no more his fault than it was mine, and there was absolutely nothing either of us could do about it.

"I don't want this."

My laugh was harsh. "And you think I do? For fuck's sake, Kye, you're the last man on this earth that I would ever want to make a life with."

The smile that twisted one side of his lips was bitter. "Ironic, isn't it, that we find the one thing that most wolves spend their lives searching for, and neither of us actually wants it?"

"Oh, I want it all right. Just not with you." I rubbed a hand across my eyes. They were stinging, but no tears were falling. Perhaps I was simply beyond them. "So what do we do?"

"Do?" He reached for his pants and pulled them up. "I suggest nothing. Let's walk away and continue living our lives as we otherwise would."

It wouldn't be that simple, I was sure. There was a connection between us now, a link that went soul deep. But I guess we had to try. I didn't want this man in my life, soul mate or not.

"Then get out and don't come back."

He smiled then, but it was a cold smile, a harsh smile. "Good-bye Riley. It was a pleasure, however brief."

He gave me a slight bow then turned and walked out. I released a breath, then slid down the wall and hugged my knees close to my chest.

What a goddamn, fucking mess.

But I guess I should have known fate wouldn't give me a soul mate without adding her own nasty twist.

I should have arrested the bastard when I first had the chance, then maybe none of this would ever have happened. But I couldn't undo the past, no matter how much I might have wished to. I needed to move forward.

And that meant confronting an even bigger problem.

What the hell did I say to Quinn?