The Darkest Kiss

Chapter 7

I squatted down at the foot of the grave and studied the sturdy little cross that bore her name. It was roughly made, but the painted letters were clear and strong, and the date underneath said she’d been dead for only a couple of weeks.

But the flowers that lay on top of it were fresh. Someone was coming here to look after her grave—and to feed the dog—because he would have been dead by now if not.

I rose and pressed the com-link in my ear, though given the distance from Melbourne, I wasn’t entirely sure they’d pick up my signal. The tracker part of the device could pick me up anywhere in Victoria, but the coms section wasn’t that strong.

“Hello, anyone listening?”

As expected, no answer came. I blew out a frustrated breath and walked back down the path, this time heading around the other side of the house. The chickens scattered, running for safety the minute I appeared, but the old dog remained indifferent.

I squatted down beside him and scratched his head. He was little more than skin and bone, his dark, curly coat matted and unkempt. Someone might have been coming back to tend to him, but they weren’t doing a particularly good job.

I rose and continued on to the car. After scrabbling through my purse, I found my cell and dialed the Directorate. Joy of joys, Sal answered.

“What can I do for you, wolf girl?”

“You want to get a team out to my current location? I found a grave, and need an ID on the body within.”

“Is this case related and urgent? Because we’re stretched.”

“Yes to both. Sorry, Sal, but we’ve a psycho on the loose and we need to stop him. Knowing who that body is will put us one step closer to that aim.” Simply because knowing whether it was Mrs. Young or not would give us some idea where not to look next.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

Which was her way of saying she’d do it. “Could you also get the RSPCA out? There’s a dog here that doesn’t look as if he’s seen a feed for a while, and a few chickens that need to be rounded up.”

“Someone abandoned their dog? Bastards. I’ll get right onto it.”

I raised my eyebrows at the anger in her voice. Sal was a dog lover? Who’d have thought? “Thanks, Sal.”

I hung up then headed back to the dog, filling up the bowl so he at least had fresh water. Then I grabbed a long bit of wood and went back inside the house.

My skin began to burn the minute I neared that room. I broke off a bit of the wood and jammed it under the door, just to ensure no one could rush up and slam it shut behind me. Then, using the rest of the stake, I pushed the netting aside far enough to step inside. Even though the silver never touched my skin, the room still felt like hell. I was just too sensitive to the metal to be able to stay here too long.

I walked over to the desk and opened the laptop. It wasn’t connected to power and the batteries were flat. I reached underneath and shoved the cord into the socket, so the cleanup team could have a look at it when they got here. Then I shuffled through the magazines and books, but they were all computer and mechanical in style, and didn’t tell me much about the man who had been reading them. Under the bed I could see glimpses of nudes, so obviously his parents hadn’t been recalcitrant in catering to his needs—but again, it begged the question, why lock him up? If he hadn’t been crazy beforehand, he sure as hell would have been after thirty years of being locked up in a room filled with silver.

There were several newspapers near the bed, so I walked over and picked them up. Three of them had an article that had been circled in red ink.

The first was about a mugging in Brighton, and I couldn’t see any connection to the murders until I read halfway and saw the mention of the eyewitness.

Ivan.

The second—and oldest of them—was about a charity fund-raiser, and came with a photo of several men and women. One of those women was circled—Cherry Barnes.

The third article was tiny, little more than a rave about the hot new chef working at Hot Rabbit. Underneath was a picture of the owner—a big, balding man named Ron Cowden. A big, red-ink cross had been scrawled across his heart.

It wasn’t one of the men who had already died. It was someone new.

Shit.

Papers in hand, I carefully edged back through the netting, then dropped the wood and ran to the car and the phone.

“What now?” Sal said, in a long-suffering voice.

“I need an urgent trace on a man named Ron Cowden. He apparently owns a restaurant called Hot Rabbit.”

“Why?”

Sometimes, this woman could be a real pain in the ass. Which is why she did it—she knew it bugged me. She could be as big a bitch as me when she wanted to be. “If he’s not dead already, he could be the next victim of our invisible vampire.”

“Vampires aren’t—”

“This one is,” I cut in. I glanced at my watch. I’d better get moving, otherwise I was going to be late for my party. “Let me know if you find him. And we might have to bring him in if you track him down.”

“It shouldn’t be too hard, but I’ll let Jack know extra accommodation might be needed.”

“While you’re talking to Jack, let him know that Cherry Barnes is probably a victim of the invisible vampire.”

“Will do.”

“Thanks.”

I hung up again, then got back into the car and headed home. Rhoan wasn’t there, and neither were the school photos from Liander. I grabbed the phone and gave Liander a call.

“Hey,” he said, “you missed a great lunch.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. Can I ask you a question about the photo?”

“Yep. Fire away.”

“Was there a Ron Cowden in it?”

He paused, and paper rustled in the background. “Nope. There’s a Jake Cowden, though.”

“Could he have been a brother?”

“Maybe. I didn’t really have much to do with him.”

“Did he have much to do with that bad crowd you mentioned?”

“Not that I’m aware of. He was a fairly quiet kid. Kept mostly to himself.”

Well, there goes that possible connection. “What about Ivan Lang, Cherry Barnes, or a Denny someone?”

“Denny someone?” Amusement ran through his tones.

“Sorry, I actually don’t know his last name.” And I hadn’t yet even checked out the police report.

“There’s a Denny Spalding in the photo, if that helps. And the other two, as well. Though, of course, there’s no guarantee that these three are the ones you’re looking for.”

“You know anything about them?”

“Cherry and Denny, no, but Ivan was fixated on vampires. Said he wanted to take the ceremony and become one, one day.”

“He did take the ceremony, but unfortunately, someone cut off his head and let him burn in sunlight.”

“Well, that wasn’t very nice of them.” He paused, and must have taken a drink, because I heard him swallow. “He wasn’t a member of the gang, either. But he was one of the few friends Jake Cowden had.”

“So what the fuck is the connection between all these people?”

Liander snorted. “Like I’m supposed to know?”

I grinned. “Sorry, just thinking out loud.”

“Seems to be a family trait.” He paused again, then added, “While we’re talking families, I’ve got a question for you.”

“Question away.”

“How would you feel about me moving in with you and Rhoan?”

I blinked. Talk about being caught totally off guard! “I think that would be great, but I’d have to ask why you’d want to move in to our dumpy little apartment when you have a totally beautiful house of your own?” Not to mention a nifty little apartment above his studio.

“Because I want to ask Rhoan to live with me, and he’s just not going to leave you any time soon.”

“That’s not—”

“That is, even if neither of you have ever talked about it. You’re each the only pack member the other has, and I think it’s going to be difficult for anyone to ever separate the two of you.”

“But it’s not like we need to live in each other’s pockets.”

“No, but can you honestly say that if you met your soul mate tomorrow, you could walk away from your apartment and Rhoan to go live with him?”

I opened my mouth to say “of course,” then actually stopped to think about it. Rhoan and I might not live in each other’s pockets, we might be able to go days—weeks—without seeing each other, but his scent was always around me, completing that part of me that needed pack, needed family. And as Liander had said, he was all I had, all I would ever have when it came to pack.

Even when I had decided to commit to Kellen, the thought of moving totally out of my apartment and away from Rhoan had never really crossed my mind. Yes, I’d contemplated staying with Kellen, but I’d never taken it that one step further. Had never thought that I wouldn’t maintain my place here as well as share space with Kellen.

Maybe Kellen had realized that, too. And maybe his problem hadn’t solely been with the job and my inability to give it up.

“For a man who plays with makeup, you’re surprisingly insightful.”

He laughed. “So you’ve really got no problems with it?”

“As long as you have no problems with the mess.”

“I can deal with the mess. I just don’t want to deal with spending nights alone anymore.”

I smiled. Liander really was a catch and a half—not only sweet and loving, but possessing the patience of a saint. I doubt anyone else would have stuck around after all the shit Rhoan had thrown his way, soul mate or not.

I just had to hope my daft brother realized that. Yeah, he loved Liander and yeah, he’d been more committed to him recently than ever before, but he still seemed to want his own space, as well.

“You have my blessing, Liander. When are you going to ask him?”

“Tonight. He’s coming back to dinner. I’ll hit him with the proposal as soon as he’s well fed and happy.”

“Fingers and toes crossed for you, then.”

“Thanks, I’ll probably need it.”

“You certainly will.” I hesitated, then added, “Just be a little extra vigilant with security for the next couple of days, okay? Until I figure out the connection between all these murders, there is a remote possibility that you could also be on his list.”

“You’d have to say very remote. I didn’t associate with Young or the people who most likely killed him.”

“Yeah, but we’re not talking about a rational mind here. Promise me you’ll play safe.”

“Okay, I promise. Now let me go and get ready for my big night.”

“Good luck with it,” I said and hung up. I stripped off then headed into the shower. Time to start making myself presentable for my big night, as well.

Dusk was crawling in across the sky by the time I pulled in to the small parking lot beside Sparkies. The restaurant was all soaring arches, smoky glass, and chrome, and sat on the banks of the Yarra River like some rare jewel.

Melbourne’s finest stepped out from chauffeur-driven limos and Mercedes—the men uniformly elegant and the women adorned by pearls and diamonds that gleamed and sparkled under the bright entrance lights.

A thief would have had a field day—if he could have gotten past the three security guards standing discreetly in the shadows.

I climbed out of my car, then smoothed down my dress, glad I’d opted for something that wasn’t black. Most of the other women arriving were in autumn tones, which probably meant they were the “in” shades at the moment. My dress followed the simple lines of a modest, V-necked sheath—at least until I turned, revealing the plunging back that stopped tantalizingly short of my butt. And there was nothing autumn-hued or modest about its color—it was a lusciously rich emerald that would stand out amongst the autumn tones as fiercely as the brightest of yellows.

The only jewelry I had was my watch, but I didn’t need diamonds or pearls to liven the outfit. The red-gold of my hair was enough.

I walked over to the door and waited in line for my turn with the man ticking off guest names.

His gaze met mine, expression polite and blue eyes showing little interest in the proceedings. “Name, miss?”

“Riley Jenson.”

He scanned the list, flicked over the page, then nodded. “If you’ll just head through that second door to your left, your ticket will be waiting for you.”

“Thanks.”

He nodded, his gaze already moving on to the next person. A black-suited shifter opened the door with a polite nod as I approached. Inside, the air was warm and perfumed, heavy with the scents of human and nonhuman. I walked down a small hallway until I reached a booth.

A woman with bleached-blond hair and a fake tan gave me a warm smile. “Here for a ticket?”

“Yes. The name is Jenson.”

She shuffled through a pile of tickets, then drew one out. “Riley?”

“That’s me.” I handed over my credit card. Hopefully, Jack would reimburse me ASAP, because the card had just about reached its limit. I’d discovered a week ago that the man who handmade my wooden-heeled stilettos had just released an autumn range, and I’d gone on something of a spending binge. The pair I wore tonight—a shimmery emerald-colored snakeskin—had been one of five, and the most sedate of them.

The woman in the booth swiped the card—which was one of the new smart cards, requiring fingerprint confirmation rather than a signature—so I pressed my hand into the machine and got a green-light confirmation.

“You’re on table five, Miss Jenson. Just walk down this hall until you see the gentleman in black,” she said, handing me back the card, the ticket, and a receipt. “He’ll direct you to the right table.”

“Thanks.”

She gave me another warm smile. “My pleasure.”

I continued on down the hall. Music wafted in from the other room, classical and soothing in sound. Voices ebbed and flowed around it, suggesting there were at least a hundred or so people inside.

The door guard gave me a smile as I approached. I handed him the ticket and he scanned it through a machine. As the door swung open, he handed me back the ticket. “Table five is around to the left, in the corner,” he said. “Have a nice evening.”

“Thanks. I will.”

I shoved the ticket into my purse, then headed in. One thing struck me straightaway—Sparkies lived up to its name. Sparkles abounded—in the glint of the ornate chandeliers, in the chrome and glass that reflected back the flickering candles that adorned each table, even in the silver and gold thread that ran through the tablecloths and chairs.

The scents that had been evident outside bloomed to full significance. Human, shifter, and vampire vied for prominence with the flowery assault of perfume and the richer tones of aftershave, creating a cauldron of aromas that had my senses reeling.

How the hell was I going to pick any particular scent out of this?

I blew out a breath and looked around. There were plenty of people sitting at the dozen or so tables that lined the room, but there were also many more standing around the dance floor chatting. Even so, the room looked half empty. Maybe the trendy people arrived fashionably late.

I scanned the table numbers until I found mine. There were a couple of old biddies sitting there, but as they weren’t likely to be either Enna Free or my murderer, I wasn’t about to head over there until I absolutely had to.

Instead, I headed right, walking around the edges of the room, trying to sort through the riot of scents and track down the one that would lead me to my suspect.

I might as well have been searching for a needle in a haystack.

I was on my way back to my table when awareness hit and sent a heated wave of desire fleeing across my skin.

I stopped, my heart pounding so hard I swear it was going to tear out of my chest. There had only ever been one man who had caused that sort of reaction in me—Quinn O’Conor, ancient vampire, billionaire businessman, and former lover.

I should have guessed he might have been here, because he always seemed to support major charity events like this. But it had been so long since we’d crossed paths that I simply hadn’t thought about it.

And if I had, what would I have done?

Not come, a voice deep inside whispered.

Maybe. Maybe not. I was no coward, after all, and I’d faced far worse things than a vampire determined to make me his own—even if he broke my heart and my soul in the process.

I closed my eyes for a moment, taking deep, slow breaths that did little to calm the erratic dance of my pulse, then slowly turned around.

I’d never really believed the line in romance books that said, “Their eyes met, and everything else faded away,” but that’s exactly what happened.

My gaze met Quinn’s and everything else—everyone else—disappeared. It was just him and me in the glittery confines of this room, with this amazing sense of awareness burning between us as fiercely as any bushfire. It was an awareness that had always been there, even from the beginning, and absence had not tempered its flame. It had only made it stronger.

And oh, he looked so good. The simple elegance of his black suit emphasized not only the broadness of his shoulders but the lean power of his body. His night-dark hair was cut short and neat, but so thick and lush that my fingers itched with the need to run through it, as they had months ago when we were still lovers. Being an older vampire capable of standing quite a lot of sunlight, his skin held a warm, healthy tan rather than the pasty white that was common among most of them. And his eyes—his eyes had always captured me the most. They were vast wells of darkness that held his secrets and emotions well in check—too well, most of the time—and yet it was so easy to lose yourself in those endless depths. In all respects, he had the sort of looks that drew the eye time and again. Saying he was good-looking didn’t even begin to do him justice.

For several more minutes, I did nothing, said nothing, just stood there staring at him, my skin burning and my heart racing.

Then he smiled, and it was such an achingly sweet smile that a shiver ran down my spine and desire spun like a fireball ready to explode all around me.

One touch, that was all that was needed.

One touch, and I was his.

But only a moment, not for eternity. I might want him as I’d wanted few others, but the past between us was laden with lies and mistrust, and it was not something that would ever be brushed aside easily.

He walked toward me, moving with an economy of movement that was both graceful and powerful. But it broke the spell, and suddenly there was noise and people and movement all around me.

I gripped my purse in front of me as if it were some sort of shield and forced a smile. “Fancy meeting you here.”

He stopped when there was little more than an arm’s length between us. His scent swirled around me, soft and spicy.

“How have you been, Riley?” he said quietly, the lilt of Ireland caressing his voice, sending my already erratic pulse into overdrive.

“Fine, considering. How have you been?” God, we were so polite it was sickening—especially considering all I wanted to do was strip him and make love to him. Right here, right now.

It seems the leash had well and truly broken on my hormones.

“I’ve been keeping myself busy.” He paused, and just for a second, emotion fired his eyes, making them burn as fiercely as the desire that continued to flare unchecked between us. What that emotion was, I couldn’t say. As usual, the shields slammed down before I could really identify it. “I heard about you and Kellen. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

I snorted softly, and couldn’t help the slight edge in my voice as I said, “You know I’m not believing that, Quinn, because you did everything in your damn power to ensure Kellen and I never got together.”

He raised a hand, as if to touch my face, then stopped inches away, pausing long enough that I felt the heat of his fingers, then let his arm fall again. Part of me regretted that. Part of me was thankful.

One touch was not what I needed right now, even if my whole body ached with a need that totally refuted it.

“You made your choice, Riley. In the end, I respected it.”

“Because you had no other option.” I took a deep breath and released it slowly. “Look, I don’t want to stand here and rehash the past.”

I don’t want to redo us. Don’t want to deal with any more pain. Just go, just leave, before it all starts up again and I end up in an even bigger mess.

He didn’t leave, of course. Whether he’d actually heard my thoughts or not, and whether he was simply ignoring them, I couldn’t say. I wasn’t consciously trying to use telepathy, but he and I had a link that went beyond psi-talents. So often in the past, he’d made comments that suggested he was reading more of my thoughts than he would ever admit, but he’d never really confirmed or denied it. The only admission he’d ever given was that our sharing blood had allowed us a deeper connection than was usual, and that he could read my thoughts whenever I was sick or in the midst of lovemaking.

Any lovemaking, not just him and me.

That was just one of the things that had torn us apart. That and him trying to change the very essence of what I was.

He studied me, his dark gaze assessing. As if I were some fragile animal he didn’t want to spook. I would have laughed if it wasn’t so true.

After a moment, he asked, “Would you like a drink?”

“Just a lemonade. I’m actually working a case.”

“Oh?” He snagged two drinks from a passing waiter, and handed the lemonade to me. I took the glass, careful not to touch him. The heat from his fingers hit mine regardless, and a tremor ran through my body.

“Yeah,” I said, glad my voice sounded normal when my insides were anything but. God, after everything this vampire had done to me, you’d think I’d be over the sight of him. But no, my ditzy hormones were acting like I was a pubescent pup going through her first moon dance. “We think we’ve got a bakeneko on the loose.”

He raised dark eyebrows. “Now there’s a creature I’ve not heard of in a while.”

“So you do know of them?” I took a sip of the drink. The fizzy liquid did little to ease the dryness in my throat.

“They’re rare. If there’s one in Melbourne, you’ve got real problems.”

“Tell me about it,” I muttered. “The bitch has killed five people already.”

“That’s definitely not a good sign.” He hesitated, then said, “Come sit at my table, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

“What about your partner?”

The smile that touched one corner of his lips was sexy, and yet at the same time, almost sad.

“I didn’t come with anyone.”

“Why not? You’re an eligible bachelor who has women falling at his feet and who never has to pay for it, aren’t you?”

His soft laugh sent little shivers of delight traipsing up my spine. Good Lord, I had it bad.

“Trust you to quote my own damn words at me,” he said.

“That’s not answering the question. As usual, I might add.”

He gave a slight nod in acknowledgment of the barb. “There was no one in my life that I wished to take to this function.” He paused, then added with a slight glint of mischief, “Sometimes, going solo is better than settling for second best.”

“Says the man who can afford nothing but the best,” I said dryly, totally ignoring the intent behind the words.

“Ah, but there are some things you can’t buy, no matter how much you try.” He raised his glass slightly, as if in salute, then took a drink before adding, “It’s a lesson I’ve learned recently, actually.”

“Who’d have thought ancient vampires could still be taught things,” I said lightly, even as I wondered whether he had learned anything, or if it was just another one of those lines, easily said but never really meant. There’d been a lot of those moments between us, too.

And I guess, to be fair, it hadn’t been all one-sided. He might have been playing me right from the start, but I’d never really taken what lay between us too seriously. He was a vampire, after all, and he could never give me what I’d spent half my life wanting—kids, and a family of my own.

Except that was all out of my reach now, anyway, thanks to the vampire half of my soul and the experimental drugs that were forced upon me.

He swung around and offered me his arm. I hesitated, then slipped my arm through his. It wasn’t flesh-on-flesh contact, but it was still contact, and the desire that rushed through my body left me giddy and breathless in its wake.

He didn’t say anything, even though we both knew he was aware of my reaction. He was a vampire, after all, and he’d sense the acceleration of my heart, if nothing else.

We walked across to a table that held a prime position on one corner of the dance floor. He released my arm then pulled out a chair, seating me before sitting down himself. I shifted so that I was sitting side-on in the chair and facing him. My knees were inches from his thigh, and the heat of his body caressed my skin as warmly as any touch. And I wanted to be touched so badly.

I blew out a silent breath and tried to get a better grip on my hormones. I might as well have tried to put out a bushfire with a wet towel. “So tell me what you know about bakenekos.”

“There’s actually not a whole lot to know, because they’re so rare.” He took a sip of wine, his expression thoughtful. “They are cats—real cats—who somehow gain the ability to take on human form to revenge the death of a much-loved master or mistress.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Then they’re generally not responsible for the first death?”

“No.”

“So why do the legends say that bakeneko are known for eating their masters?”

“Because they do eat flesh. Apparently, it allows them to take on that person’s human form—a handy thing if they intend to track down and kill those they perceive as responsible for the death of their master.”

“All of which the one we have here is doing.” I paused to take another sip of the fizzy drink. It was actually a bit too sweet for my liking. “Do they normally have sex with their victims?”

“I’ve only heard of one or two instances, when the cat has been in heat.”

Trust us to get one of the randy ones. “Why would it be scratching the necks of the men it’s killing?”

“That could be a form of territorial marking.” He shrugged. “Remember, you are not dealing with something that thinks like a human. It may be out for revenge, but it is still a cat, and reacts like a cat.”

“A very smart cat.”

He made an eloquent motion with his hand. “Of course. Is she just killing men?”

“No. She’s been killing women and taking over their identities.”

“Which suggests that the bakeneko believes the women played a part in her owner’s death. Unless they’re cornered, they don’t do random.”

“Well, the only connection between the ladies seems to be the fact that they belong to a group collectively known as the Toorak Trollops.”

“Ah, the high-class hookers themselves.”

I raised my eyebrows at the hint of scorn in his voice. “I was told they weren’t.”

“That depends on your definition of hooker, doesn’t it? If they sell their bodies for the high life and gifts, is that not a form of prostitution?”

“They might just enjoy sex. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“No, there’s nothing wrong with it, even if such wanton indulgence does sometimes offend the stiff sensibilities of very old vampires.”

“I’m glad you said that.”

“If I didn’t, you probably would have.” He smiled another sweet smile, unraveling a few more threads of control. “However, these women ask for their favors first. That, in my opinion, makes them pros.”

Well, yeah, if you were intent on defining prostitution, asking for payment before the act would definitely be one of the criteria. “So you’ve had personal experience with the Trollops?”

He shook his head. “Not personally, but I have friends—”

“No,” I interrupted, feigning surprise. “You actually have friends? How shocking.”

His laugh was soft and warm, filling his dark eyes with mirth and causing that flame of desire to burn even brighter. “Yes, even the control freak has friends.”

I smiled. “I’m glad.”

“So am I.” He reached out again, and this time, the palm of his hand cupped my cheek as his thumb lightly brushed across my lips.

One touch.

One single, solitary touch.

And it felt so good that tears briefly filled my eyes. God, how long had it been since anyone had caressed me with any sort of feeling or gentleness? I may have voluntarily restrained my more sexual nature, but a lot of that had been the simple distaste of not wanting just another hand on me. I’d wanted more—had needed more. And with that one simple caress, I knew that I could not let it end here tonight.

I leaned forward and kissed him.

For the briefest of moments, he didn’t react. Then his other hand came to my cheek, holding my face gently, tenderly, as he deepened our kiss.

And it felt like I was tasting heaven. Felt like I was coming home after a long, long absence. And the part of me that had died when Kellen walked away came to aching life, fueling the desire that burned around us to even greater heights. Yet despite that fire—despite the urgency that sung through every fiber of my being—our kiss was slow and tender, and so very, very thorough.

After what could have been hours, he groaned—an almost demanding sound that vibrated through my soul. A sound I understood completely. Because, like him, I wanted more than just his lips. I wanted him, all of him. Wanted to feel him in my mind, in my body, in my soul.

Which would be a little hard to achieve, given our current location.

He opened his eyes and stared into mine. “What do you want, Riley?”

“I want you.” My voice was little more than a breathy rasp of sound, but it didn’t matter. He would have heard it had there been a mile between us.

“Just this once? Or do you want more?” He gave me a lopsided smile that made my heart do happy little cartwheels. “I can’t change what I am any more than you can. And I prefer not to go any further if this is all there is. I can’t do casual when it’s you and me.”

My gaze searched his for a moment, then I raised my hands, capturing his and lowering them to my lap. “I haven’t done casual for months. I stopped having sex after Kellen left.”

Surprise crossed his features, but I was relieved to see that there was no incredulousness. He believed me, when so few others had when I first told them. “How did you get around the moon heat?”

I grimaced. “Well, I couldn’t, but aside from those few days, I’ve abstained.”

“I guess that explains the desire that just about blew me off my feet.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.”

He laughed softly. “Don’t be. It was a nice reaction to get.” He studied me for a moment, then said, “You haven’t told me why.”

I took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Because I wanted something more than just the touch of a stranger. I wanted the caring, the emotion, that I got with Kellen. And with you.”

“You could have contacted me after the breakup.”

“No, I couldn’t. I’d told you to go away and give me time, remember. And after the breakup, I still needed that time.” To not only recover from the hurt, but to decide what I really wanted. Except it wasn’t until tonight, and the kiss we’d shared, that I’d really known. “Quinn, I like what we have. I believe it’s good, and I believe it is strong. But I also believe my soul mate is out there, which means I still won’t commit fully to anyone. Not even you.”

“So where does that leave us?”

“In the same old quandary, I guess.” I squeezed his hands and then released them. The world felt a whole lot colder without his touch, and my hormones screamed in horror.

He leaned back and picked up his wineglass, his movements elegant and casual. As if he hadn’t shared a mind-blowing kiss only moments before. And yet I could feel the hunger on him, smell his arousal.

He took a sip of the drink, then said, “None of the Trollops are here yet.”

I glanced at my watch. It was just after seven-thirty. “I thought this gig started at seven?”

“It does, but the beautiful people tend to arrive just before the main proceedings. Unless they are on the hunt, of course. Then it’s a different matter.”

“I think most people would consider you one of the beautiful people.” But despite the scent of his arousal spinning all around me, he didn’t particularly seem to be on the hunt. But then, if a vampire with over twelve hundred years behind him couldn’t control his emotions and needs, then who could?

“Was that a compliment? Ms. Jenson, I’m shocked.”

“Okay, so I’ve been a little sparse in my compliments. But then, so have you, buddy.”

“Which is very remiss of me. You look stunning in green, by the way.”

I smiled. “Compliments that you’ve been prodded into don’t count.” I leaned back a little, and crossed one leg over the other, showing a nice amount of thigh. “So what are we going to do, Quinn?”

“I don’t know.” His gaze went past me. “Marcy Bennett and Enna Free just walked into the room.”

I twisted around to look. Two statuesque blonde women stood at the doorway, one dressed in dusky orange that clashed a little too much with her overly tanned skin. The other was wearing the deep red of autumn leaves.

“Enna’s the one on the right?” Only a cat would put that color dress with her skin tone.

“Yes.”

“Then I guess I’d better go back to work.”

I stood somewhat reluctantly. He stood up also, but wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer, his fingers splayed against the bare skin of my back, sending little bolts of electricity tingling up and down my spine.

I licked my suddenly dry lips and stared into his dark eyes, seeing the hunger there, seeing the need. And not just sexual need. “I thought you didn’t want to do casual?”

“I thought you said you’d quit casual?”

I smiled. “Well, yeah, but that doesn’t change—”

He placed a finger gently against my lips, silencing me. “I have the presidential suite at the Langham. If you feel like discussing this matter any further, come back there when you finish tonight.”

“I’m not sure what time I’m going to be finished working.” And I certainly wasn’t sure if I should go back, no matter what I was feeling or how much I needed him. We’d been through so much, had hurt each other so much, that part of me worried that the cycle would just start up all over again.

I couldn’t bear that. There’d been enough shit in my life already. I just wanted a simple, straightforward, caring relationship with someone for a change. No ulterior motives, no hang-ups about what I was or what I did. I just wanted to deal with regular everyday problems in a regular everyday relationship.

And I really wasn’t sure Quinn and I could ever have just a regular relationship.

“It doesn’t matter what time you turn up. I’m not going anywhere.” He bent and kissed me, his lips lingering, teasingly close as he added, “Please come back, Riley.”

I took a shuddery breath and released it slowly. “No promises.”

I stepped away, even though all I wanted to do was remain in his arms with all that lean strength wrapped around me. To feel safe and secure and cared for for the first time in what seemed like ages.

“Be careful when you’re dealing with the bakeneko. Don’t let it get a taste of you.”

“The bitch isn’t going to get close enough to bite, trust me on that.” I gave him a confident smile, then turned and walked away—even though my legs felt like jelly and every step away from him had my hormones screaming in rage.

The glittery room seemed a whole lot noisier away from the quiet oasis that had seemed to surround Quinn and me, and I suddenly wondered if he’d been using his vampire wiles again. Not on me, but on the others in this room. There were a lot of people here, but he was a whole lot of vampire, and it wouldn’t have surprised me if he had been keeping the noise and the people at bay while we talked.

Enna and her friend hadn’t moved that far from the main entrance, their gazes scanning the room as if they were searching for someone. Or perhaps they were checking out the talent.

I skirted the room, coming up to them from the left and slightly behind. I was one table away when Enna suddenly swung around, her nostrils flaring as she sucked in air. I hadn’t thought she’d gotten close enough to me to catch my scent when we were chasing her earlier, but obviously I’d been wrong. Her gaze zoomed to mine, and an anger that was both derisive and alien flared deep in the blue depths. She bared her teeth and made an odd sort of hissing sound, then turned and ran for the door.