Deadly Desire

Chapter Four

I walked up the stairs and through the wasteland of half-walls. The kids were holed up in the far corner again, and Kye was with them. Though his arms were crossed and his stance casual, there was an underlying tension in his shoulders that suggested he was ready to move at the slightest provocation.

"What the hell are you doing here, Kye? You were warned off the case."

"So you know this guy?" the kid with the bright blue eyes asked.

"He's not a guardian, if that's what you're asking."

"Never said I was." Kye's voice was deceptively mild. This man was a fight waiting to happen, and everyone in the room was aware of that fact.

"Then I don't have to talk to him?" the kid continued.

"No, you don't." I glanced at Kye. "Do I have to arrest your ass?"

He gave me a smile. My hormones did a happy little dance, but then they were easily amused.

"You can try."

I met and held his gaze. Something sparked deep in his amber eyes, something beyond the desire raised by the approaching night and the nearness of the full moon. Something that was ancient and basic, and honed deep into our wolf souls.

The need to fight. To prove worth.

I was challenging him, and the alpha within him wasn't liking it.

But I'd done a whole lot more than simply stare when he'd been protecting Patrin, so his reaction here was a little surprising.

Whatever the reason, the fact was that I didn't want to fight him. I might be stronger and faster, but I had a feeling Kye had a few nasty surprises of his own.

"Retreat to the stairs, Kye. This is Directorate business, and you shouldn't be here."

He'd hear from the stairs, we both knew that. It was a way for both of us to back down gracefully, avoiding a fight that would do neither of us any good.

He stared at me for a moment longer, then that odd spark was snuffed from his eyes. Desire lingered, however. Maybe he could control that no more than I could.

"This won't end here. You know that."

I didn't answer, simply because I wasn't entirely sure what he was referring to-the challenge, or the attraction. Either possibility was unsettling.

He turned and walked away. I glanced back at the kid. The same two kids stood behind him, but the scent of several others hovered in the nearby room, and a few of those were new.

"That was intense," the blue-eyed leader of this motley group said, his gaze flickering between me and Kye. "Felt like you two were about to come to blows."

Given that wasn't actually a question, there was no point in answering. "Where's Joe?"

"Where's the money?"

I smiled and dug the wad of cash out of my pocket. He tried to take it, but I grabbed his hand before it got anywhere near the cash.

His eyes widened slightly. "You're fast."

"Werewolves are. Produce Joe."

"How do I know you'll give me the money afterward?"

"You don't. But I will."

He considered me for a moment, obviously weighing his options. Then he made a motion and a door behind me opened.

"What do you want?" a new voice said.

I turned around. Joe was small and, like most of the kids here, on the thin side. He also had gray eyes that were absolutely startling against the darkness of his skin.

"Mike tells me you were friends with Kaz Michaels."

The kid's gaze slipped past me for a moment, getting, I suspected, the go-ahead from the boss. "Yeah. What of it?"

"Did you see her much the days before she died?"

"Sure. She bunked here, like me."

"Then was there anything different about her behavior in the days leading up to her death? Did anything unusual happen?"

He frowned. "Well, she met a lady about a job, which was odd because Kaz didn't really like to work."

I raised my eyebrows. "Was the woman from employment services?"

The kid behind me snorted. "Yeah, the government's so concerned about us living on the streets that they send employment gurus down here to help us."

"Then who?"

Joe shrugged. "She was just a lady. Well preserved, middle aged, wearing a blonde wig."

"A wig?"

"Yeah. There was a stray lock of brown hair coming out the back of it, like."

The kid was observant, but I guess they had to be. "So you were there as a spotter?"

"Yeah. Kaz never really trusted anybody."

And she was dead-probably because she did trust the wrong person. "What was the job?"

"Don't know. I wasn't close enough to hear, but she said later it was worth ten grand."

That raised my eyebrows. What the hell had the kid gotten herself into that she was promised such a large payout? To me, it immediately suggested something illegal-like the rumored underage slash-film ring that had apparently been running in Melbourne for a while now. But Kaz had been killed by a zombie, and I doubted the filmmakers would have the sort of power needed to raise the dead. If they did, they surely wouldn't be making money from sick underground films. They'd have the means to aim a lot higher.

"Wasn't she suspicious of being offered such a large sum of money?"

"All Kaz worried about was getting the money. Thought she could do so damn much with it." He shrugged.

"There's nothing else you can tell me about the woman that might help track her down?"

He frowned. "Well, she was posh, like. And she had a very manly voice."

Which could have simply meant she was wearing a voice modulator. "And would you recognize her if you saw her again?"

"Sure." He dug a hand into his pocket and withdrew a grimy piece of paper. "Did this up for you."

I accepted the paper and unfolded it. It was a hand-drawn picture of a woman with a hawkish nose and thin lips. I looked up at Joe, surprised. "This is really good."

He shrugged, like it meant nothing, but a quick flash of pleasure showed in his eyes. "I don't know anything else."

"Then thank you for your help." I turned around and handed the cash to Mike. "And thank you."

He leisurely counted the cash, then pocketed it without commenting on the extra twenty-five I'd given him. "Pleasure doing business with you, Riley."

"If you hear of anyone else being approached by a woman with fake blonde hair, you'll get back to me?" I handed him my card, and he pocketed it as easily as the money.

"If there's cash in it, sure."

"You really do drive a hard bargain."

"Hey, a kid has to live."

I suspected this kid would do rather well in whatever profession he set his mind to. Heaven help the police if he decided the criminal life was his thing.

I made my way back to the waiting Kye. He fell in step beside me and we silently made our way out of the building. I stopped at his BMW and turned to look at him. His golden skin was as warm as the sunshine, and the dark red of his hair ran with brighter highlights. He was, in many respects, a golden man with cold, cold eyes-even if those amber depths burned with a desire equal to anything I might be feeling.

The moon might be on the other side of the world at the moment, but she had a hell of a lot to answer for.

"Last warning, Kye. Stay away from this case or I'll report your presence to the Directorate."

His smile was dismissive. He might have heard me, but he wasn't believing me.

"Do you think this wig-wearing woman is the one we're after?"

"What did I just tell you?"

Amusement teased his lips. "Stay away. You didn't say don't discuss."

"It's a very fine point, and not one I'm going to get into. Just get into the car and leave."

His smile grew, even if it never entirely reached his eyes. "Answer me and I will."

I blew out a frustrated breath-although the frustration wasn't due so much to his obstinacy as it was to my own giddy reaction to something as silly as a smile.

"There's nothing to connect the wig-wearing woman with the woman who controlled the hellhounds and the zombie."

"Other than the fact that one woman contacted the kid, and another woman killed her."

"Joe said the woman who contacted the teenager had a deep, almost manly voice. The woman in the warehouse didn't."

"Ever heard of voice modulators?"

"Of course I damn well have." Hell, I'd used the horrible things. "I still don't think they're the same woman."

"Why not? Because you don't want me investigating further?"

Well, yeah. "No. And it's nothing more than a hunch."

He studied me for a moment, and there was something in his look that made me uncomfortable. Like he was trying to get inside my mind and pick it apart. Only he wasn't actually doing that. I would have felt the intrusion. Eventually, he said, "Do you often get these hunches?"

"Sometimes."

"And do they often come true?"

"Sometimes."

He smiled again. "You're not very forthcoming with information, are you?"

"You're a bounty-hunting killer who has been warned off the case. Why is it surprising that I'm not forthcoming with information?"

"I wasn't talking about the case."

"And why would I want to provide personal information?" My voice was dry. "You and I have nothing in common."

"Other than the fact we're both paid to kill, you mean?"

I crossed my arms and resisted the urge to point out that I at least was a legal killer. Being on one side or the other wasn't really his point. "Other than that, yes."

"Well, we do seem to have this odd attraction flaring."

"Kye, the full moon is only days away and we're both werewolves. Lust is natural-but I, for one, am not going to act on it."

"I wouldn't bet on that."

Neither would I, actually. "Get in the car and leave, or I'll make you."

There was nothing pleasant or nice about his sudden smile. He considered me for a moment, then raised a hand, lightly brushing his fingertips down my cheek. It felt like I was being branded by fire and, deep inside, my wolf shivered. I wasn't entirely sure whether it was fear or anticipation.

"Don't ever threaten me, Riley," he said quietly, his voice so silky soft, carrying no hint of threat and yet full of it all the same. "Because I will kill you if I have to. Nothing personal, of course. I'm just here to do my job."

I stepped away from his touch, but I could still feel the heat of it on my skin. Part of me wanted to scrub it away, the other half wanted to exalt in it.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of, Kye. Don't ever think you'll come out on top in a fight with me."

"Ah, but I have the advantage of knowing what you are. You have no idea what I truly am, and therein lies my advantage."

And with that, he turned and walked around the front of car and climbed in. The big car roared to life and, within seconds, he was gone.

Leaving me standing there wondering who was the bigger fool-him or me.

After a second, I grabbed my cell phone and called the Directorate as I walked to the car. Sal answered.

"Of course it would be you," she said tartly. "It's nearly my quitting time."

"I'd hate for you to be bored in your final few minutes, Sal," I said cheerfully. "I need you to start a search for me."

"Of course you do." In the background I heard keys tapping. "Okay, who?"

"Kye Murphy. Werewolf, bodyguard, and gun for hire. Rhoan and I did a basic search on him awhile ago, but I need a deep one. I want it all-gossip, secrets, family, the lot."

"And why would you be needing all this?"

"Because he's turned up on a crime scene twice now, and each time he's gotten there before us. I want to know where, or how, he's getting his information."

"You could always arrest his ass."

"I have a bad feeling that would not be easy-and that's another reason why I need this information fast. He's hiding something, and I want to know what."

"Sounds like you've got a thing for this bad boy," she said dryly.

"All werewolves have a 'thing' for each other during the full moon phase, Sal. It's beside the point."

She sniffed. "I'll initiate it, but it'll take awhile to collect the information."

"Let me know when it's there."

"Will do."

I hung up and climbed into my car, then headed home to write up my overdue reports. Neither Rhoan or Liander were home when I got there, but I found a note on the fridge saying they'd gone out for dinner.

Which made my stomach rumble a reminder that it needed something more substantial than a burger. So once I'd typed up the report and sent it off to Jack, I grabbed my cell and rang Quinn.

"I was wondering when I was going to hear from you," he said.

The sexy lilt in his voice made want me to sigh in pleasure. "I didn't want to disturb any vital business meetings."

"All business meetings are vital, and they all drag on into boredom if there isn't a reason to take a break." His voice was wry. "Am I going to see you tonight?"

"That depends on whether you intend to pay for dinner or not. I gave my last spare cash to a street kid and now I'm broke until payday."

"And I'm sure there's a perfectly good reason for you doing that. Only it probably won't make sense to the more logical of us."

"That's a rather catty remark from someone who wants sex tonight."

"Not when I'm paying for the dinner you obviously can't afford."

"True. Apology accepted then."

He laughed softly. "Shall I try and book a table at Wren's?"

Wren's was the latest "it" spot for all of Melbourne's high flyers and, as such, had a waiting list months long. Luckily for us, Quinn knew the owner and most times could get us squeezed in. We'd been there five times now, and I adored the food. Mainly because Wren's was rare in the world of fine dining-it actually served enough food to keep even a hungry werewolf happy.

"If you get us a table, I'll love you forever."

"If only you would," he said, with another laugh. The sound washed across my senses as sweetly as a caress and made my body tingle with desire. "What time?"

I glanced at my watch. It was just after six-thirty now, and Wren's was in the heart of Toorak, which was always a hassle to get to.

"I can be there by seven-thirty."

"You really are hungry."

"And maybe not just for food," I said cheekily. "I hope you're not wearing an expensive suit, vampire, because I fully intend to rip it off later."

"Be my guest. It'll be worth the loss."

I grinned. "See you in an hour."

I hung up then walked into the bathroom, having a quick shower and drying my hair before heading for my bedroom. Wren's was posh, so I grabbed a form-fitting black skirt that was split up the left side, and a sexy black jacket for warmth. The jacket was short, barely skimming my waist, and the neckline plunged enough to show glimpses of my lacy red bra. I had matching panties, but I didn't put them on. There was something delicious about going without them. To complete the outfit, I chose four-inch red stilettos-the ones with the wood heels, of course. Mainly because Jack had a habit of calling me out to a job at the most awkward times, and the wooden stilettos had come in handy as a weapon more than once.

Quinn was already waiting in front of the glass and chrome building when I arrived. He was dressed semi-formally in black pants and a neat pale-pink shirt that was roughly rolled up to the elbows, and he was holding a black jacket casually over his shoulder. He looked absolutely wonderful.

His gaze met mine for a moment, then swept down my length, and the desire that stirred the air when he looked up again was powerful enough to make my wolf soul want to howl.

"You look fantastic," he said, swinging around and offering me his free arm.

I laughed softly. "I was just thinking the same about you."

"Then we're well matched." The gray-clad doorman opened the door and gave us a nod. Quinn continued, "Frances couldn't give us a table tonight."

Disappointment ran through me, then stalled as I saw the amusement in his bright eyes. "I'm sensing there's a 'but' to that statement."

"But I booked out the starlight function room for us instead."

I stared at him for a moment, then laughed. "That room is huge."

"So is, I presume, your appetite, because I have preordered all your favorites. Besides, what is the point of being a billionaire if I cannot splurge occasionally?"

I grinned. "I guess this means we'll have to make sure you get your money's worth."

The look he gave me just about smoked my insides, and it was all I could do to stop myself dancing with excitement.

Frances Wren, owner and chief hostess of the business, approached as we neared the maître d's station. She was a tall, willowy woman with perfect blond hair and sapphire colored eyes. She was also over five hundred years old, and didn't look a day over twenty. Vampirism did have its benefits.

"Quinn," she said, her Irish accent far more pronounced than his ever had been. "It's lovely to see you again."

He gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "I hope I'm not pushing my luck by booking at such short notice."

"The room wasn't being used, so it's hardly a problem. Besides, I owe you far more than a table a couple of times a week." She turned her attention to me, and her smile radiated a warmth that had my own lips reacting. "Riley. Lovely to see you again."

"Are you sure opening the starlight room for just the two of us isn't going to be a problem?"

She gave Quinn an amused look. "Rest assured, it isn't. And he did tell me it was a matter of life or death. For his clothes, that is."

"He might have been right."

She laughed softly. "This way, please."

She led us through the packed dining room. The color scheme was as muted as the light, and the overall impression the room gave was one of warm welcome. Wren's decor might be subdued, but the food was spectacular, and that was probably the secret behind its success.

We climbed the stairs at the back and reached the barely lit landing. The decor here was richer, all claret and gold, with plush velvet chairs and tapestries on the wall. Wren opened the double doors that led off the wide corridor beyond the stairs and ushered us through.

Like the hallway, the starlight room was plush and rich. Tapestries and old paintings lined three walls, but the fourth-the side that looked onto the street-was a smoky glass through which little could be seen. There was no ceiling in this room, just more glass. The sky was clear and bright above us.

The room itself was shadowed, the only light coming from the muted wall lights and the candelabra set up in the middle of the table. Two wineglasses sat near the candelabra, and an open bottle of wine waited in a freestanding chiller.

"Your meal will be up in an hour," Frances said softly, amusement dancing across her lips. "I hope that gives you enough time."

I waited until she'd left, then glanced at Quinn, eyebrow raised. "Time enough for what?"

"To enjoy the wine, of course." He rested his fingers lightly against my spine, guiding me across to the table. The heat of his touch sent little flashes of desire racing across my flesh, until it felt like my whole body was tingling.

"It doesn't take a whole hour to drink one bottle of wine," I said, sitting on the edge of the table rather than on one of the plush chairs.

"It does if you drink it with proper appreciation, rather than merely gulping." He handed me a glass, then picked up the wine and poured it. "Tell me about your day."

He sat down beside me, his long legs stretched out and crossed at his feet, his thighs brushing mine and practically sending my pulse rate into overload. I wanted him so bad the scent of it hung on the air, but the lusty aroma wasn't just mine.

He obviously had his seduction all planned, and though my blood practically boiled with the need for him, I wasn't in the mood to hurry tonight. Not when we had this big old room to ourselves, and all night to play.

"Did you know either Garrison Bovel or Armel Lambert?"

"Given your use of the past tense, I take it they've both been killed?"

His gaze moved from my face, drifting downward, until it rested on the swell of my breasts. My nipples hardened under his scrutiny, and it was all I could do not to undo the tiny buttons and allow him full viewing access.

"Yes, they have."

He took a sip of wine, then place the glass back down on the table and said, "I didn't know Bovel personally, but I did hear he'd been doing well with the importing business he'd set up. Armel was one of the older ones, so yes, I knew him."

His tone had my eyebrow rising. "I take it you didn't like him?"

"He was a player. He took risks. And all too often he included others in those risks-mostly to their detriment." He shrugged eloquently. "On another note, I always thought bright red lingerie wouldn't suit a redhead, but that bra looks lovely against your skin. I don't suppose there's panties to match?"

I took a sip of wine. The rich fruity taste rolled around my tongue and made me want to sigh in pleasure. "That's for me to know and you to find out later. We have wine and food to enjoy first."

His sigh was dramatic, but the effect was spoiled by the twinkle in his bright eyes. "And there's nothing I can do to change your mind?"

He raised a hand as he said it and trailed a finger across the top of my breasts, just above the bra's lace line. Though his touch was light, it seared my system with a heat that was pure and lusty. A tremor ran across my skin and the deep-down ache suddenly leapt into focus.

"Nothing at all," I said, voice husky. "Do you think someone could have held enough of a grudge against Lambert to kill him?"

"Easily," he said, his gaze thoughtful as his fingers slipped underneath the edges of my jacket. "But from what I understand, Bovel had nothing in common with Armel. No similar friends or interests."

His hand slid down lace, until he was cupping my breast. Casually, he brushed his thumb across the nipple, sending a ripple of pleasure across my skin.

I licked my lips, saw the knowing smile play across his mouth. The damn man knew which strings to pull to get me aroused, but I'd be damned if I'd let him win me this easily. Besides, drawing it out would only make the result all that more satisfying.

"Well, they do have one thing in common-they died the same way." I took another sip of wine but its taste was suddenly sour compared to the dizzy sweetness of his touch. "Both were drained, decapitated, and had their legs chopped off."

"It would have taken a great force to subdue Armel. He was a powerful vampire." His hand was on the move again, drawing back to the buttons on my jacket. One came undone, then another.

"There was no sign of a fight. It looks for all the world like he caught robbers in the act and they overpowered him."

The front of my jacket fell open. "Lovely," he murmured, then leaned forward and brushed his lips across the red lace. I close my eyes against the sensation, but couldn't suppress the shudder of delight.

But I wanted to play, to tease, and draw out the time before sex, so I pushed my butt back and put some distance between us again.

He smiled, but there was a determined spark in his eyes that suggested he wasn't about to give up his sensuous assault.

And I certainly didn't want him to.

"Trust me," he said, picking up his wineglass again and taking a sip. It was an action so sensual I practically melted. "Someone like Armel would never be overpowered. Not only was he a vampire, he was an extremely strong telekinetic. He could have blown any attackers into the next suburb had he wished to."

I took a gulp of wine, but it really didn't do a whole lot to quench the fire inside. "We think there might have been magic involved."

"Magic done on the run shouldn't have been strong enough to contain psi elements." He slid forward, so that his legs were pressed hard against mine again.

"Shouldn't being the operative word." I stood up and retreated a few steps.

"True." He smiled lazily and took another drink. "I can hunt around and see if there's any whispers about either of them, if you'd like."

"I think Jack is already doing that."

"Ah, but he is younger than I, and will not be able to push as far."

He rose and stepped toward me. I took several more steps back, flashing a nice bit of leg as I did so. His gaze drifted down and the rich scent of desire increased, until it felt like I was drowning in it. And oh, what a way to go.

"Armel was Jack's friend," I said, amazed my voice was sounding so normal when every inch of me was practically shaking with need. "I think he'll push as far as he damn well needs to."

He continued to walk toward me, and I continued to retreat, all the while sipping my wine and giving him a lazy, come-get-me smile.

"What you forget," he said softly, "is that vampire hierarchy is very feudal in its structure, even in this day and age. He's restricted in what he can say and do to the older ones."

My back hit the glass hard enough to slop wine over my hand. He closed the distance separating us, leaving only a few bare inches between us and overriding my senses with the delicious scent of man and lust.

"Have I told you about these windows?" he said, neatly pinning me in place by placing his hands on either side of my head.

"They're windows," I said, my voice steadier than my pulse, but only just. "Why do you need to tell me about them?"

"Because they're made from a special glass that reacts to heat."

Then they'd be reacting now, because I was burning. And it wasn't just his closeness, but the brush of his breath along my lips and the caress of his desire across my senses. Everything about this man was hot, and everything he did made me want him all the more. And he didn't even have to touch me to achieve this.

"And this is important because?"

"Because when something hot touches them, it becomes visible to the outside world."

My heart began to pound that much harder at the thought. Danger might be an aphrodisiac to a wolf, but so was exhibitionism.

"And will something hot be touching them?" I asked, the words little more than a gasp of air.

He smiled and plucked the wineglass from my hand, putting both of them on the sill. Then he leisurely hooked his thumbs under the bra's underwire, and slowly slid it up and over my breasts, until the lace no longer covered them.

"I think perhaps it will," he said, his voice little more than a low growl as his hands replaced the lace and gently began to press and tease and massage.

God, it felt good.

And my resolution to prolong our lovemaking for as long as possible was getting more frayed by the moment. I took a deep breath and tried to remember what we'd been talking about.

"Jack's sister is one of the older ones." She was also the head of the whole Directorate in Australia, and based in Melbourne right alongside her brother. "Surely she'd-" the words came to a sudden halt as he caught both nipples between his thumb and forefinger and lightly began to pinch. A shudder went through me and my knees just about gave way. I licked my lips again, and somehow managed to add, "help him out?"

"Madrilene Hunter will not tie herself to personal vendettas, even for her brother," he murmured, his touch leaving my breasts and moving down my stomach.

I didn't know whether to sigh in relief or whine about the temporary reprieve from the sensual assault.

"Meaning she won't help him, either."

"No."

His hands slid around my hips, until the length of me was pressed against the long, hard length of him. It felt so good I stopped thinking and just started reacting, letting my hands slide down his back to cup his butt and press him even harder against me. Slowly, sensually, I rubbed myself against him, enjoying the heat of him, the hard press of his erection.

He smiled, his dark gaze holding mine, afire with the same need that burned through me. His hands slid up my back and with one clever flick of his fingers, my bra came undone. A second later, he was sliding both my jacket and my bra from my shoulders and dropping them to the floor.

He kissed one puckered nipple, then the other, then murmured, "Turn around."

I did as bid, and found myself pressed against the cool glass, the heat of my body making the surface flare and go clear. Suddenly everything on the street below was visible.

"I want everyone to know that this gorgeous body is mine," he murmured, sweeping my hair to one side and kissing the nape of my neck. "I want everyone to see just how glorious you look when you come."

His words had me shuddering in pleasure, and it was all I could do not to turn around, to take what I so desperately needed.

But this was his game. Mine could wait until later.

His fingertips slid up my bare leg, making my muscles twitch in delight and the deep-seated ache all that much fiercer. When he reached the top of the skirt's split, he hesitated, and my breath hitched in expectation. I wanted, needed his touch to slide underneath the material. To explore where I ached.

Instead, his hand moved down to my thighs and slowly, surely, the skirt slid upward.

For several seconds, he didn't do anything more than simply stand behind me. But I could feel the weight of his gaze on my body, hear the rapid intake of his breath, smell the raging of his desire. And it was as arousing as a touch, making the throb of desire fiercer than I'd ever thought possible.

More minutes ticked by, and sweat began to trickle down the back of my neck. The weight of expectation was not something I'd experienced before, and while it might be sweet, it was also torturous.

Finally, his hands touched my shoulders and moved down, sliding around to my breasts. His body pressed lightly against mine as he caressed and pinched my nipples, and I moaned, thrusting back against him, enjoying the steel of his erection pressed so firmly against my butt.

Then one hand began to move downward, along the flat of my stomach, across to my hip, down the outside of my thigh. My breathing was getting harsher by the moment, and expectation was rising, until it felt like I would surely burst if he didn't damn well touch me there soon.

His fingers brushed the inside of my thigh, and my breathing hitched. Slowly, surely, his caress moved upward, and when he finally brushed my clit, I cried out in sheer, aching pleasure. His fingers slid through the wetness, caressing, delving, and all I could do was shudder and writhe and moan. And then he was in me, thrusting hard and deep, and I came, shaking with the sheer force of my climax. And still he thrust, the thick heat of him stabbing deep, the sensation so glorious pleasure rose thick and strong all over again. Then he came, and his teeth were in my neck, and the dual sensations was so glorious I came a second time.

For several minutes we did nothing more than merely stand there, our bodies locked together and the heat of our union clearing the glass. On the street below, several men had gathered, obviously trying to figure out if they had just seen what they thought they'd seen. If I'd had the energy, I would have waved.

"That," I said eventually, "was a brilliant start to the evening."

"It surely was."

He dropped a kiss on my shoulder blade, then stepped back. I turned and followed, letting the glass go smoky again. Quinn placed his hands on each side of my face and gently kissed me. It was a sweet kiss, yet one that spoke of passion not yet sated.

The thought had my hormones coursing in delight.

He leaned down to pick up the drinks, his undone shirt revealing delicious glimpses of toned stomach muscles as he gave me my glass. I took a sip, enjoying the coolness of the sweet liquid, then said, "So, where was our conversation again?"

"I believe I said something along the lines of Madrilene not going out of her way to help her brother solve these murders."

"Ah yes." I took another sip of wine and idly wondered if it would taste as good if it was licked off his skin. "Why do you call her Madrilene when she's known everywhere else as Alex?"

His smile was sensual and dangerous. A man getting ready to seduce again. "Most older vampires have had several names over the years. I met her when she was Madrilene, so that is what I call her."

"And what does she call you?"

"Ciaran. Quinn is a derivative of my original surname, O'Cuinn."

"Ciaran O'Cuinn." The name rolled off the tongue sweetly. "It suits you."

"But it is no longer the name I go by."

"And will your current moniker also hit the dust one day?"

"It's hard to say, because the existence of nonhumans is an accepted fact now. Back when I was young, they were very much a myth, and anyone who lived too long or didn't age was treated with great suspicion-and that often resulted in death." His shrug was an elegant thing. "But enough of me. Continue with your tales of death."

I smiled. Getting Quinn to talk about his past was as difficult as ever, but at least I was now getting little bits and pieces. Once upon a time, he'd clam up tighter than, well, a clam. "We also happen to have a couple of hellhounds running around. Don't suppose you've some more of that holy water lying about, do you?"

He laughed softly. "It's not something I keep in the cupboard, no. But I can get you some, if you'd like."

"Please." I dipped my fingers into the wine, then lightly sprinkled it across his chest. Stepping away from the window, I pressed myself against him and slowly licked the droplets off. Desire stirred, his and mine, filling the air with its richness. "How much time have we got left before our meal arrives?"

He barely even glanced at his watch, merely wrapped his arms around me and said, his lips so close to mine I could practically taste them, "More than enough time to uncover some more creative uses for the wine."

"Good," I said.

And it damn well was.

Someone was touching my feet. The sensation was feather light, but nevertheless annoying. I twitched my feet away but the annoyance seemed to follow.

"Go away," I muttered, not opening my eyes.

"I will be in about five minutes," Quinn said, amusement evident in his rich tones. "You need to wake up."

"Says who?" I grabbed the pillow and hugged it tighter. As if it would chase away the reality of the morning and the fact that I did need to get up and go to work.

"I have coffee."

My nostrils flared. "Not in your hand, you haven't."

He chuckled softly and kissed my cheek, leaving it tingling. "I'm not that stupid. It's out on the table, along with your bacon, eggs, and toast."

"I don't want to get up." It sounded petulant, but God, I was tired. Between the sex at the restaurant and the sex here in his penthouse, sleep hadn't played a major part in our night.

"Trust me, neither did I. Not when you had your warm and luscious body wrapped around me. I have meetings I can't get out of, however."

And I had killers to chase. I blew out a breath and opened my eyes. "Why this sudden rash of meetings? Your airline business isn't in trouble, is it?"

"No, but I am considering shifting the headquarters down to Melbourne so I can see a certain redhead more often."

He was shifting his whole business for me? God, was there ever a greater sign of commitment than that? It made me feel intensely happy, and yet intensely selfish. I couldn't give him the same sort of commitment because there would always be one part of my soul that hungered for-needed-more.

Besides, he wasn't the first man to offer such a gift. Kellen had moved down to Melbourne for me, too, and look how well that had turned out. "Really?"

"Really." His dark eyes smiled. "Of course, the move will be gradual, as said redhead is keeping her options open when it comes to other werewolves."

"It's not like I'm going to the clubs and dancing every night."

"I know, and I appreciate it." He leaned down and kissed me gently. "But we both know there will come a time when I am not enough, and that will be a testing time for us both."

"I won't flaunt any other lovers in your face, Quinn. I promise that much."

He smiled and touched his fingers lightly to my cheek. The caress was tender and yet oddly sad. Just like the brief flare in his eyes. "I know. The problem lies with my instincts, not yours. A vampire doesn't like to share."

"What about an Aedh?"

Quinn had never been entirely human, even before he'd turned vampire. The Aedh weren't flesh and blood, they were beings of energy who sometimes took on winged human form to procreate. His father had been a priest of the Aedh, whose job it was to guard the gates that joined this world to the other.

He smiled. "The Aedh has sympathy for the vampire, but he's certainly the reason for the tolerance currently being displayed."

"Then I need to thank him." I reached up and kissed him again. His lips were warm and delicious, tasting faintly of coffee. "Shame you have business meetings to attend to."

"We have tonight." He pulled away from my grip. "Up woman, or you'll have Jack calling to hound you."

I muttered something unpleasant under my breath, but gave in to the inevitable. By the time I'd showered and dressed, Quinn was gone.

The eggs were cold when I got around to eating them, so I just ate the bacon and toast and then gulped down the coffee. I was almost out the door when my cell phone rang.

"On my way, Jack," I said, answering without bothering to look at the screen.

"Well good," my brother said. "Because it is nearly nine-thirty, and your ass should have been in the Directorate by now."

"So Jack has sent you to track me down?"

"No. Well, sort of. He's sending me undercover later today, so I told him I needed to talk to you first. You feel like breakfast?"

"I've had breakfast."

"What, you've never heard of a second breakfast? We're never going to make a good hobbit out of you, are we?"

I grinned. Rhoan and Liander had been on a Lord of the Rings kick of late, and could practically recite the old movies word for word-although neither of them had gotten around to reading the books. Rhoan wasn't much of a reader, and Liander had never gotten past the first few chapters-although he kept picking the book up, and did get a little bit farther each time.

"I'll be into second, third, and fourth breakfasts, you know that." All this good sex made a gal hungry. Besides, I needed to keep my iron intake up to avoid problems with the amount of blood Quinn was taking.

"Meet you at Beans in ten, then."

"Will do." I hung up and punched the call button. The elevator answered straight away, zooming me down to the parking levels.

Rhoan was already waiting by the time I got there, and drew me into a bear hug. "Nice to see you again."

"Says the wolf who's always off gallivanting with his mate."

He grinned and took my arm, guiding me to a booth. "The flat does get a little crowded with the three of us there all the time."

I slid into the booth, punched an order of hazelnut coffee and pancakes into the electronic ordering machine, then slid my credit card through the appropriate slot.

"So," I said, as Rhoan repeated the process. "Tell me about the undercover job."

"It's at a gay strip bar." Anticipation glinted brightly in his silver eyes. Like most wolves, Rhoan was a exhibitionist by nature, and he loved flaunting the wares.

But he was also addicted to sex-or rather, the danger of sex with a man who might well be his prey. He might be committed to Liander, but when it came to work, all bets were off. And Liander, knowing of his addiction, had given his blessing.

"Who's the target?"

"No one specific. Apparently the club is one Armel visited quite often. Jack wants me undercover there to see if there's any whispers as to what might have happened."

"Armel was bisexual?"

He nodded. "Apparently many old vampires are. I suppose restricting yourself to one gender does tend to limit your food source."

That was true. But it made we wonder if Jack, or Quinn, ever had male lovers. Neither of them had mentioned it, but I guess it wasn't something you just dropped into casual conversation.

"Why doesn't he just ask the owners himself? Or better yet, go there and do a mind sweep of the patrons?"

A waitress appeared with our coffees. Rhoan gave her a smile of thanks before saying, "Because the club is an underground one, and owned by two powerful vamps who run the business along the same lines as many wolf clubs. He's afraid that if we go in there in an official capacity, everyone will either disappear or clam up."

"So these vampires are older than Jack?"

"Apparently."

Hence Quinn's warning that Jack would be restricted in what he could do and ask. I sipped my coffee then said, "Have you talked to Liander about it?"

He smiled. "He was first cab off the stand. Sorry, sis, I love you and all, but he gives good sex."

I picked up a sugar packet and threw it at him. "Idiot. Of course you'd tell him first. He's your mate."

"Yeah." He paused, then said, "It takes a bit of getting used to, doesn't it? Having someone living with us, I mean."

"Yeah. But it's also good, because we have more than just each other now. We have Liander."

"I guess." He paused. "I sometimes miss the peace of you and me, though."

"Because it's only been a few weeks. We've been alone for practically forever." I glanced up as the waitress delivered my pancakes and Rhoan's fried breakfast, thanking her before adding, "You're not getting cold feet again, are you? Because I promise you, I will smack you."

He laughed. "No, everything's fine. As you said, it's just taking some adjustment."

"Imagine how Liander feels. He's gone from a supercool, roomy house to a messy two-bedroom apartment. It has to be his version of hell."

"Never really thought of it that way," Rhoan said around a mouthful of food.

I smiled. My brother had always tended to think of his needs and wants first. It was something of a family trait, I guess.

I tackled my own food with gusto, and it was only when I'd finished that I said, "So how long are you actually going to be undercover?"

"Don't know. The full moon is coming up, so I'll be no good to anyone then. Maybe a week, maybe less." He shrugged. "I guess it depends on whether I catch any whispers or not."

"Then Jack hasn't got anything concrete on Armel's murder?"

"Nope. Cole's apparently waiting on the magi to finish up their reports before he submits his complete findings."

I frowned. "They're taking awhile, aren't they?"

"Some things do." He shrugged again. "How's the zombie hunting going?"

"About as well as everything else is going," I said, then grimaced as my cell phone rang. "How much do you want to bet that this is Jack?"

Rhoan snorted. "Not biting on that one. The odds are too short."

It was Jack, and the news wasn't good. "There's been another zombie murder," he said. "Salliane's sending the details through to your onboard."

"It can't be the same zombie, boss. He was eaten by hellhounds. I suspect there's not much resurrection from a fate like that."

"Then whoever is raising these things obviously has enough power to raise more than one. Get over there straight away. And tell Rhoan I need him up here to learn his undercover history."

"Will do." I hung up and glanced at my brother. "You heard?"

Rhoan grimaced. "Yeah. Look after Liander until I get back."

"Just make sure you get back, bro."

He touched a hand to my cheek lightly, then rose and left. I finished my coffee then stood, but had to grab at the back of the booth as the room swum briefly around me. Maybe I needed more coffee.

I ordered a cup to go, then climbed into the car and drove across town to the next murder scene. Whoever was behind these didn't seem to be overly choosy about their location. First Fitzroy, then Coolaroo, now the green-living, artist-friendly hub known as Eltham.

I parked the car behind the other Directorate vehicles, then walked across the grass. This kid had been murdered in the trees near the railway lines and, like before, her neck had been slashed.

I stopped several feet away from her body. The metallic tang of blood mingled with the dying warmth of raw meat, but layered in between was a scent that reminded me of solvents.

"She had a gun?" I said, my gaze on Cole rather than on the bloody, broken body he was squatting beside.

"Yes." He didn't look up as he spoke. "And it may lead to an early capture of this particular zombie. She shot off one of the creature's fingers before it got her."

"Damn shame she didn't aim for the zombie's head. That might have done them more good."

He glanced up at me. "Not everyone is as efficient at killing as you guardians."

"And some of us guardians wish we weren't as efficient, either."

He snorted softly. "Jack would have a fit if he heard you say that. You are his protegee, after all."

"It's not a job I particularly liked or wanted, Cole, but I'm stuck with the damn thing and have to make the best of it."

He raised his eyebrows. "Even guardians can quit."

"Not this guardian. It's either this or military for me."

"Why?" he asked, frowning. "It's just a job. It's not a life commitment."

"Maybe not for the rest of you." I might have accepted my guardian role, and some part of me might even enjoy the hunting aspects of it. But I didn't want to be doing this for the rest of my life, and yet I could see no way out. The drug introduced into my system so long ago was still wreaking havoc, and until we knew what the full scope of those changes were, the Directorate was the safest place to be. They could at least monitor what was going on. "Buy me a drink sometime, and you just might tempt me to tell you the whole sorry tale."

His grin crinkled the corners of his eyes, and made his whole face light up. "And I suppose you're hoping a drink would lead to sex?"

"Werewolves aren't that easy. I'll have you know it'd take two or three drinks, at least."

He laughed. "Good to see your standards have risen."

I grinned. "Sorry to see yours haven't. You don't know what you're missing, Cole."

"I'll survive."

I was sure he would. "Did you get enough of the finger to get a print off it?"

He nodded. "I sent an image through to headquarters. They're doing a search."

"Finding the zombie probably won't help us find the master."

"You don't know that."

Yeah, I did. The woman behind these things was not only powerful, but clever. I very much doubted she'd be keeping barely animated carcasses close at hand for someone to see and report.

"Did you find out anything about the last zombie?"

"Not much." He shrugged. "But there doesn't seem to be any connection between him and the people he killed."

"No, but remember it isn't the zombie who's going after these people. It's the person who's raising them who'd have the connection."

"Well, there's no obvious link between the first two victims, and I doubt we'll find one here."

"There has to be something. We just aren't seeing it yet."

"Undoubtedly." He paused a minute to pick something black off one of the woman's remains and shove it in a plastic bag. "We found some feathers at the old warehouse. They're currently at the lab undergoing DNA testing. Interestingly, there were no prints of any kind on the gantry where the crow was resting."

"If she was in crow form, there wouldn't be."

"The gantry was covered in dust and grime, so there should have at least been claw prints. All we found was feather imprints."

"Meaning she had no legs?"

"Or her legs were useless and just hung lifeless. Any scuff marks they might have left were erased by her belly feathers."

So we were looking for a paralyzed shifter? That was rare, because shape shifting actually healed most wounds. "Maybe she's simply a lazy crow."

"Could be." He shrugged. "If the fingerprint doesn't bring anything up, you could do a search through police records and see if there's any more reports of grave vandalism. Whoever is behind this is using the freshly dead-or at least so far. They're easier to reanimate than older bodies. Their flesh still remembers life."

"Muscles don't have memories."

He gave me a wry look. "Of course they do. That's why astronauts have to spend so much time in rehabilitation after long space flights. Their muscles forget what it's like to walk under atmosphere."

"But the space stations don't have that sort of problem."

"The space stations are pressurized to earth standards. Or near enough that it doesn't matter." He paused. "Doesn't your vampire own a few of those?"

I blinked. "I don't know."

"A woman who hasn't investigated a potential partner's wealth? You're not only a rare werewolf, but a rare woman."

The words surprised me, as did the bitter edge in his voice. "Wow. Someone really has done you over in the past, hasn't he?"

He looked away. "Let's just say I learned some valuable lessons when I was young."

"You were young?" I said in mock surprise. "And here I was thinking you were always old and wrinkly."

"I prefer the term weather-worn," he said, the humor reappearing in his eyes. "And now, if you have no more questions, I have an investigation to get back to."

"Let me know if you find anything."

"I always do."

I headed back to the car. Once there, I rang Sal. "Have Mel and her team come back with the reports on Garrison's murder?"

"The initial report is in. It was definitely a robbery. Garrison apparently kept a collection of precious coins and jewels in his safe, and they're gone."

And it would be easy enough to get rid of them on the black market. Which is probably why they went for the smaller items. "Have we a list of items stolen from Armel's safe?"

"It basically the same deal. Rare coins, precious gems." Her voice broke for a moment. "He used to show them to me. He was very proud of his collection."

I frowned. "Did he make a habit of showing everyone his collection?"

"No, just his lovers."

And the man apparently had more than a few lovers. "Do you know if Garrison enjoyed showing off his collection?"

"I don't know. Why?"

"Because maybe that's the connection. Maybe they share a lover who has more than a little vampire loving on his mind."

"Armel was very eclectic in his tastes-"

"Meaning he had both male and female lovers."

She hesitated. "Yes, but I don't believe he and Garrison would have shared any lovers."

"Why not?"

"Because Garrison liked it very rough, while Armel was a gentle and considerate lover."

"That doesn't mean they couldn't have shared a lover. It is possible to enjoy both ends of the spectrum."

"Yes, but vampires do not share lightly. We tend to be very territorial."

Which was something I was all too aware of. "And yet you shared Armel with others."

"We're vampires. We cannot live on each other's blood, so other lovers were a necessity, not an option."

I hesitated, then asked, "Then you really did love him."

"I really did," she said simply.

"So why do you lust after Jack?" Or was it simply a matter of me misreading what she considered a bit of playful teasing? It certainly wouldn't be the first time I'd gotten the wrong end of a situation.

"There is a difference between lusting and doing, Riley. Not that a werewolf would know that."

The bitch was back, I thought with a grin. "I will get whoever did this."

"I know." She sniffed. "Cole sent me through a fingerprint and we found a match. You want the address?"

"Patch it through to my onboard."

"Sending it now."

"Thanks." I paused again. "Would you be able to get me a complete list of both Garrison's and Armel's lovers? I think it might be worth cross-checking, just to be sure there is no connection."

"I'll see what I can do," she said, and hung up.

I blew out a breath. Sal and I might never be great friends, but that didn't stop me from feeling sorry for her. I knew what it was like to lose someone-even if my someone had walked away rather than be murdered-and I wouldn't have wished that sort of pain on anyone. I wondered if she had anyone to talk to or lean on. Certainly having Rhoan and Liander there had helped me through the worst of it.

The onboard beeped as a message came through and I touched the screen, bringing it to life. It was the zombie's last listed home address and, naturally, he lived in the opposite direction from where I currently was. I transferred the North Coburg address into the nav computer, then started the engine and drove off.

It took half an hour to get across to Coburg, and I wasted another ten minutes trying to find parking in a street already crowded with cars.

As I walked back to the house, I saw an all-too-familiar silver car cruise past, obviously looking for parking just like I'd been.

I snorted softly and shook my head.

I should have known I wasn't going to get rid of Kye that easily.