Kiss Across Deserts
Author: Tracy Cooper-Posey
Date: 2015-05-06 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Time Travel; Menage; M M F; Paranormal; Vampires; Romance
Description: For fans of vampire and time travel novels and the Kiss Across Time series. Time travel is not for the weak of heart. Alexander Karim, long-time friend of Brody, Veris and Taylor, has been questioning everything; his purpose in life and his identity as a vampire and a doctor. Even his long time pursuit of the lovely but reluctant police lieutenant Sydney Stevens is on shaky ground. Life tosses him a curve ball when Alex learns that Brody's trial lawyer, Rayner De Leon, the youngest appeal court judge in the state, is attracted to Alex. Rayner is a vampire, Rafael, who has known Brody and Veris

Table of Contents

Title Page

About Kiss Across Deserts

Praise for Kiss Across Deserts

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Epilogue

The Next Book in the Kiss Across Time series

About the Author

Other books by Tracy Cooper-Posey

Copyright Information

About Kiss Across Deserts

Time travel is not for the weak of heart.

Alexander Karim, long-time friend of Brody, Veris and Taylor, has been questioning everything; his purpose in life and his identity as a vampire and a doctor.  Even his long time pursuit of the lovely but reluctant police lieutenant Sydney Stevens is on shaky ground.

Life tosses him a curve ball when Alex learns that Brody’s trial lawyer, Rayner De Leon, the youngest appeal court judge in the state, is attracted to Alex.  Rayner is a vampire, Rafael, who has known Brody and Veris since the fifth century.  Alex warily allows Rafael to seduce him, and the affair has surprising results for both of them.

But then a deliberate hit and run tosses Sydney back into Alex’s life and this time, her defenses are down and she is vulnerable.  But there are unanswered questions surrounding Sydney.  Who tried to kill her?   And why is she insisting that Alex was there, when he doesn’t remember it that way?

When a kiss sends Alex and Sydney back to Alex’s beloved desert, and he realizes that Taylor is not the only one who can time travel, the questions pile up like gunpowder.  The flint that strikes the spark is Sydney’s past, which is exposed when Rafael reaches through time and uncovers her dangerous secret.

The explosion that follows is both deadly and tragic, reaching out to touch everyone’s lives.

Warning:  This time travel menage romance features two super-hot alpha vampire heroes, multiple sex scenes, including anal sex, MM sexual play, and MMF sex.  Do not read this book if frank sexual language and sex scenes offend you.
The time-space continuum was restored to order at the end of this book.  Promise.

This is the fourth book in the Kiss Across Time paranormal series:
Kiss Across Time 1.0:  Kiss Across Time
Kiss Across Time 2.0:  Kiss Across Swords
Kiss Across Time 2.5:  Time Kissed Moments I
Kiss Across Time 3.0:  Kiss Across Chains
Kiss Across Time 4.0:  Kiss Across Deserts
Kiss Across Time 5.0: Kiss Across Kingdoms

A Vampire Time Travel Menage Romance

Praise for Kiss Across Deserts

All Romance eBooks Bestseller

I loved learning more about Alexander and especially loved watching him struggle with his relationship between Sydney and Rafe.

Wow !!!! This fourth book in this Time Travel Ménage series is so dang sensual it's amazing my eye's didn't burn up reading it.

I love Tracy's writing style and the vampire/time-travel always draws me in to the point of neglect for everything else around me.

I always wanted Alex to have his own story and now he has.

This has to be my all time favourite series and I hope it never ends there's still so many more stories to tell.

I just couldn't put it down once I started it, but who needs sleep?!

I’m really hooked into this series, its hot and sensual, erotic, but not one of those where the sex takes over the story.

I really enjoyed the distinct highs and lows in this book. I need that balance, and somehow when one or more characters are really feeling heartbroken, it makes it so much more meaningful when things work out.

You better have a very cool drink and a fan with you on this one.

The ending is pure drama with passionately poignant heat and touches of wonder that is absolutely fantastic.

I was so excited when I heard Alexander was getting his own book and it didn't disappoint. I've had a crush on him since he was first introduced.

All I can say is WOW! I have waited to see the next installment of the series, and it was well worth the wait.

Flat out, Tracy Cooper-Posey writes some SEX-AY men. Alexander and Rafael get high HIGH marks for sheer smolderability.

Chapter One

Up until Alexander phoned just after four that afternoon, Sydney was having one of those days where everything was breaking right. She had put away three cases, one of them a gnarly brute that had defied the efforts of two senior detectives before she had taken it off their hands. The budget for the department balanced, even though the bottom line just sucked, and her captain, Leonard Baker, had actually smiled at her.

Sydney had floated through the day, saying just the right things, making exactly the impression she wanted to make. No one was extraordinarily pissed at her. And for the first time in weeks, she had brought Bud, her trainer, down to the mat and held him there for three vital seconds. Even Bud had grudgingly nodded his approval.

It had been the perfect day, until Alex had called. When she recognized his cultured voice, Sydney sighed and swiveled her chair away from her computer to face the window. It was an oddly dismal day out there. March was always blustery and windy, but the clouds overhead were taking the light out of the day. “Dr. Karim, you’re late.”

“I’m back to Dr. Karim, am I?” Alex asked. “You must not be having a very good day, Lieutenant.” Despite the fact that he had been phoning her regularly for nearly a year, he still refused to call her anything other than Lieutenant even though he had insisted she call him Alex, or Alexander. Sydney didn’t know if his formal ways annoyed her or not. Mostly, she found it quaint in an odd, foreign sort of way. That fit in perfectly with everything else she had learned about him, which wasn’t much at all.

“It has been a perfectly wonderful day,” Sydney said truthfully. She hesitated. “I just don’t think you should call anymore.”

“It took you a year to come to that conclusion?” Alex asked, and she could hear the amusement in his voice. Unlike some of her colleagues, Alex never treated her like an idiot. That was why he was teasing her now in his cool, gentle way.

“Even after a year, I still don’t know what to make of you.” Which was true, too. It was almost impossible to put him into any sort of category. “But I got the papers today. Brody’s trial date has been set.”

“I heard. Early August. Brody’s right to a speedy trial does seem to have been overlooked.”

“It’s the clogged court system, Alex. There are too few courts, too many trials and not enough people to process it all. Brody isn’t the only one who is waiting. He should be thankful he could afford the bail, otherwise he’d been sitting in a cell waiting.” She took a breath, deliberately halting the flow of words pushing at her lips. “I’ve said this before,” she pointed out. “And it is why you should stop calling me. We’re going to be on opposite sides of the courtroom when the judge bangs his gavel.”

“Do you feel your professionalism is in danger, Lieutenant?” Damn if he didn’t sound amused again.

“Of course not,” she shot back, “but—”

“I haven’t been called as a witness,” he continued. “I’m on the sidelines, merely a curious spectator. I do not believe I represent a conflict of interest in any way at all. So I will continue to call you, as it is one of the small pleasures in my life.”

“Are you never going to get sick of me saying no, every time you ask?”

“I live in hope, Lieutenant.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“You have explained that before. You do not date. It interferes with your career. Nevertheless, I like talking to you, even by phone. And one day you might say yes and surprise us both.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“Are there, perhaps, more reasons than those you’ve told me that explain why you continue to say no?”

Sydney carefully inhaled, controlling her reaction. Alex wasn’t an idiot either. That had been a very astute guess. “None that you need to know,” she said, making her voice sound light. Unconcerned.

“Ah…one day you will learn that you can trust me,” he said softly. “But for now, may I ask you to dinner, Lieutenant?”

“Thank you, Dr. Karim, but I must decline.”

“That is your privilege, Lieutenant. So tell me why your day has been so wonderful.”

He moved on from her rejection so smoothly that she was barely aware that he was doing it. She found herself telling him about her day. The small successes that came in incremental slowness because she was a woman in a man’s world. She barely had to explain any of it, because Alex already knew who all the key people were in the department, and the issues she had dealing with them. After a year of pleasant conversations, he had learned more about her life and her career than she had realized.

He laughed in the right places and complimented her on her little achievements and when she hung up the phone twenty minutes later, she actually felt happier than before the call, even though she had been dreading the next time he phoned her ever since she had been advised of the court date.

She turned back to face her computer, examining her feelings carefully. Was she…did she really feel relief because he would continue to call? How strange.

* * * * *

Alex let out a deep breath as he put his phone away. It wasn’t quite a sigh, but it was close enough that he almost laughed at his own foolishness. He looked out through the window across the gray grimness of Los Angeles visible on the horizon. The rain was keeping the smog down today and he could see everything in depressing detail.

He realized that the same grimness was gripping his thoughts and deliberately straightened up, turned and walked out of the elegant, barely-used dining room, across the tiled foyer and back into the cavernous library where Veris, Brody and Taylor spent nearly all their spare time.

Shelves rose through two floors, with a wide balcony running around the edge of the second floor to give access to the stacks there. The books and precious knickknacks on the shelves never failed to make Alex’s soul sigh. Brody and Veris had been collecting books for centuries, and Taylor was equally interested in delving into human knowledge. She was the historical expert, which was ironic because Veris and Brody had lived through it. But Taylor roamed across the eras and regions, while their knowledge focused on their serial experiences only.

Taylor had arrived since Alex had stepped out to make his call to Sydney, and she had brought company. She looked up from the child in her arms as Alex entered, and smiled. “Alex, come and say hello. The twins just woke up.”

Alex hurried over to her side and looked down at the dark-haired baby with genuine delight. “Aran?” he asked.

“He’s here,” Veris said, lifting the baby he held. In his big arms, the child looked tiny.

“Hello, Alannah,” Alex murmured, caressing the soft head of the girl in Taylor’s arms. Alannah blinked up at him sleepily, her mouth curved into a perfect cupid bow. The twins were just about to have their first birthday, and they were chubby, happy children.

Alex felt a tugging on his sweater and looked down. Marit raised her arms up toward him and he scooped her up and hugged her. “And hello, Marit,” he told her and kissed her cheek.

She kissed him back, a soft, moist kiss on the lips. Her gray eyes were a combination of her father’s blue eyes and Taylor’s deep brown ones, but they had Taylor’s shaping and beauty. They were wide and serious. “Uncle Alex, did you talk to your lady? Did she say yes?”

Alex blinked, absorbing the idea that Marit knew all about his campaign to win over Sydney Stevens. He frequently underestimated just how smart Marit was. Her solemn expression and big eyes hid a child that understood far too much of the world, which was sad, for she did not experience the innocent fun she might have otherwise enjoyed.

“Yes, I spoke to my lady, missy Marit.” He gave her a little shake. “I think you’ve grown since I saw you just last week. You’re taller.”

“She’s outgrown all her clothes in the last month,” Brody said, from the depths of the comfortable Craftsman chair he was sprawled in. “It’s next to impossible to keep up.”

“Doesn’t Mia buy all her clothes?” Alex asked.

“Athair likes to take me shopping,” Marit said. “He likes to spoil me.”

“Does he?” Alex asked. “Spoil you, I mean.”

Marit considered for a moment, then shook her head. “Athair and Far both make me work. Very hard work. If they really wanted to spoil me, they wouldn’t make me work so hard. Because I’m only little.” Her eyes grew wider and crystalline.

Veris laughed as he carefully gave Aran over to Brody. “You by-passed ‘little’ four years ago. Alex isn’t fooled by the big eyes, Marit. Peddle your wares to someone who doesn’t know you as well.”

Marit grinned and hugged Alex, her arms straining to squeeze his neck. “Uncle Alex likes little kids,” she said defensively.

“You’re not little anymore,” Taylor pointed out. “You’re nearly six years old.”

“Try sixty, in a six-year-old’s body,” Alex murmured. Then he put Marit back on her feet and looked at her. “Don’t grow up too fast, dear one. You’ll miss all the fun.”

She considered him carefully. “Then being a grown-up isn’t fun for you?”

Alex straightened up with a snap, surprised into it. He glanced at the other three adults in the room. Taylor was fussing over Alannah, her gaze on the baby. Brody was grinning at him, and Veris studied him with a raised brow. They weren’t going to help him out on this one. Alex cleared his throat. “Sometimes, no, life isn’t fun,” he told Marit.

She frowned, processing that dire fact.

“But the fun times make up for the bad ones,” he added hastily.

“Okay,” Marit said slowly, in a way that told him she was going to make up her own mind about that. He hadn’t fooled her at all.

Alex scrubbed at the back of his neck and tried again. “It’s….” He stopped again. He really hadn’t been about to say the clichéd “complicated,” had he? But that had been the word on the verge of tumbling out. He sighed. Marit was waiting for an answer with extraordinary patience for a six year old. “It’s difficult for me to explain it to you when I don’t know how much you’ll understand,” he finished.

“Try, anyway,” Veris said softly. “We’re not the only ones who have noticed your mood lately.”

“And your beard.” Marit scrubbed at her own cheeks with her hands. “It’s prickly,” she added.

Alex looked around the room at everyone, unease making him shift on his feet. Everyone had noticed? Including Marit?

“You stopped practicing medicine well over a year ago, just after we dealt with Tira in Las Vegas,” Taylor said.

Tira was nominally their queen, but she had no love for Brody and Veris, and coveted Taylor for her time-jumping abilities. She had not caused trouble since the Council had told her to behave herself, but Alex knew Tira had not been defeated. Not yet.

“Even after Las Vegas you said you had things to think about,” Taylor added.

Alex nodded. Yes, it had been around then he had started questioning everything.

“It’s not unusual to want to step off the world and just breathe for a while,” Brody said. “Both of us have had to meditate our way through the doldrums a few times. What is odd is that I think this is the first time you’ve ever hit this point.”

Alex crossed his arms and laughed at himself for the wildly obvious defensive stance. “If I have been somewhat hermit-like, then I’ve been that way for a while. Now you ask why?”

“We know why,” Veris said. “The details are yours alone, but the questions are the same. Marit is the one who asked and she’s still waiting for an answer. Why do you think life isn’t fun?”

“Do you find life fun?” Alex shot back.

Veris smiled. It was the rare smile that warmed everyone who saw it. It was his very private smile. Small, but filled with…something. Love, Alex presumed, for Veris’ gaze flickered across to Taylor, then over to where Brody was lounging. “I find life infinitely interesting and far richer than I ever thought possible,” Veris answered frankly.

“Even though everything you do, you’ve done a hundred…a thousand times before?” Alex pressed.

Veris shook his head. “I’ve never done this.” He spread his hand a little, to take in the room and everyone in it.

“You’ve never been in love before?” Taylor asked, her tone curious.

“There was Brody, before you,” Veris said.

Brody laughed as he sat Aran up on his knee. “I’m in a category all my own. Damn, I must have impressed him after all.”

Aran patted at the top of Brody’s knee with clumsy hands. Brody’s hands around his body looked huge.

Veris grinned. Then he sobered. “I’ve never been in love like this,” he said flatly. “I’ve never lived life quite like this before. I’ve lived more centuries than you, Alex, but I’ve never lived one century like the next.” Then he smiled again. This time it was his shit-stirring expression. “And Marit is still waiting for your answer.”

Alex looked down at the young girl standing patiently at his side. She looked up at him and raised her brow in exactly the same way Brody did. It made Alex smile. “I don’t think I can answer you, Marit. I’m still looking for answers myself. It’s a barren time for me.”

She picked up his hand, her young fingers curling around his. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “That must suck.”

“It does, indeed,” Alex told her gravely.

* * * * *

By the time eight o’clock chimed on the big grandfather clock in the front hall, everyone had left except for one or two stragglers. Chris and Eloise were great-grandchildren and barely knew him, so Rafe didn’t feel slighted by them finishing off the bottle of champagne in the library, talking quietly. They were cousins, but lived on different sides of the country, so the fact that they had made the effort to be here for his birthday was good enough for him.

That left him and Charlie sitting at the big table. Charlie liked his port, even though it played hell with his gout, so Rafe always made sure there was at least a couple of bottles of the hundred-year-old Madeira in the house, when he was expecting him.

Charlie had nearly finished the bottle that had been opened before dinner. He poured himself a half-glass and looked around the room, taking in the empty table. “Wimps,” he declared. “This new generation is far too health conscious. Makes me uncomfortable.”

“You should embrace the discomfort,” Rafe told him. “It forces you to keep up.”

Charlie cocked his brow at him. The brow was silver. His blue eyes underneath the shaggy brows were milky with age and the flesh about them deeply wrinkled. Happy lines, not grumpy ones, at least. “You’re the only one in this family who has to worry about staying current. It’s my privilege to grow old and set in my ways, curse the younger generations and die a bitter old man.” He lifted his glass toward Rafe. “And I can drink myself into my grave, too. Cheers.”

Rafe grinned. “It seems to me you’ve done more than your share of adapting and changing. Speaking of which…no offense, Charlie, but I think it’s time for you to move from father to grandfather status.”

Charlie snorted into his glass, then tipped it up and drained it. He put it back on the blinding white tablecloth carefully and turned on his chair so he could rest one elbow on the back of it and the other on the table. It placed him so he was looking directly at Rafe. “Is that your way of telling me I’m getting old?”

“You’re eighty-two next month. I think that qualifies as old by anyone’s standards.”

Charlie pursed his lips together in a silent whistle. “You remembered my birthday.”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my son.”

“One of…exactly how many is it now?”

“None, since your sisters grew up,” Rafe said flatly.

“Is that why this big old house is rattling like a skeleton in a casket? There’s no one here but you and the staff. Is your judgeship so thrilling you don’t notice?”

Rafe sat back in his chair and blew out his breath just as Charlie had done. Charlie had always been able to see through any bullshit he tried use as an excuse. He’d noticed, of course, how pared down his life was now. “I’m thinking it’s time I moved on to the next life,” he said softly.

Charlie rolled the little port glass around on its base, denting the tablecloth, as he considered that. “You’re not talking about a vacation or a change of career, are you?”

Rafe shook his head.

Silence.

Then Charlie grimaced. “Well, it had to happen sooner or later, didn’t it? You warned me. More than once.”

Rafe swallowed. This was harder than he thought it would be. It was always difficult and he never remembered, until the next time he had to drag his family and kids through the cesspool that marked the transition to a new life. It was always a wretched time, and in five hundred years he still hadn’t figured out a way to make it easy for them.

So he stayed silent, letting Charlie absorb it and adjust.

Charlie sucked his teeth, with an expression that looked sour. “So…how are you going to do the deed? You’re pretty high profile right now. People’ll notice if you just disappear. And if you try to kill yourself, there’ll be enquiries for years. You’ll invent your own grassy knoll.”

Rafe shook his head. “There’s time, yet,” he said. “Years, even. But the years are running out and I have to start putting plans into place for when they do. I just wanted to…well, warn you, I suppose.”

“Warn?” Charlie repeated, surprised.

“So you’re braced,” Rafe said. “I spent my share of nights waiting for you to come home, or the police to come calling to tell me you’d got into some mischief that had ended badly. Those nights are very long. The call, when you get it, doesn’t go easier for all the worry that came before.”

“You’ve had that call?” Charlie asked sharply.

“Yes,” Rafe said flatly. He didn’t expand on it. Charlie understood very well why he couldn’t talk about former lives. “But here’s the thing, Charlie. If you’d ever had kids, you might understand this better. It’s the sudden absence that bites the hardest. Being unprepared for it…well, it cuts far deeper than knowing in advance. So I’m going to spare you that.”

“You’ve just disappeared?”

“I’ve had to, once or twice. Times weren’t always as civilized as these.”

Charlie scowled. “Nothing civilized about these times, either.”

“They’re civilized enough that I don’t think there should be any reason for you to get a sudden call in the night and have that be the end.” Rafe got to his feet and walked around the table to pick up the bottle of Madeira. “Another?”

Charlie pushed the glass across the linen toward him. “Why the hell not?” he said, his voice rough.

“I love you, too, you grumpy old bastard.” He topped up the glass.

Charlie cleared his throat. Then again. Then he stood up, pulled the bottle out of Rafe’s hand and put it on the table, before hugging him tightly.

Rafe hugged him back, just as hard. Then he kissed his temple. “There’s time yet,” he said, and his voice was just as hoarse as Charlie’s.

Charlie waved him away impatiently, his head averted. He still held the belief that his generation had grown up with that a man who cried wasn’t a man at all. So Rafe let him hide his face and recover.

Charlie sniffed mightily and reached for the full glass. “You can’t…I don’t know – you can’t rig things the way you have been since you got me? Become a brother, then a son, then a grandson, then a distant cousin who rolls into town.” He cleared his throat again. “It’s worked just fine for nearly a hundred years. Why not a hundred more?”

Rafe couldn’t find an answer he wanted to give Charlie, so he went back into the kitchen and through into the wine cellar to get the other bottle of Madeira, instead. The real answer would just puzzle Charlie. How could he explain the emptiness that came from centuries of living to someone who didn’t get to live for even one century? How did he explain to his son that this life didn’t satisfy, that he was still looking for something he’d lost, long, long ago?

Another bottle of Madeira was a weak substitute, but it would have to do.

* * * * *

Alex knew that if Marit saw him now, she would be horrified. Brody, Veris and Taylor would be disappointed. But the knowledge that what he was doing would upset them sat a long way off. It didn’t register as critical, merely as an interesting fact.

He rearranged his legs, with painstaking exactness, so that they were crossed once more. He was sitting on the thick Bokhara rug in his living room. He was naked, for the infinite shifting of his clothes against his skin had become annoying.

He contemplated the sound of the rain that he could hear through the windows. A thought surfaced that he should shut the windows, but it also didn’t register with any urgency and he let it go.

There was a more interesting thought, somewhere ahead of him. He had been trying to wrest the thing to earth, to uncover it, for the last few minutes…or days, he wasn’t quite sure. Each time he thought he had caught a glimpse of it, it slipped away, not quite forming in his mind. But there was such excitement attached to it! A thrilling wave of anticipation would shoot through him every time he drew nearer to the thought.

He had increased the dose this time and he could feel the difference. Every nerve was alive, every thought took an age to complete itself in his mind, giving him time to examine every nuance, to consider possible scenarios that might arise, depending on the choices made. He had never felt so full of life, so ripe with possibilities.

The first time Alex had used himself as a trial guinea pig, he had taken the smallest dose possible. The resulting floating sensation had been interesting merely for the fact that Alex suspected it was the vampire equivalent of being high on any one of the recreational drugs humans used. Of course, he could take a quart of pure heroin through his veins and it would have a null effect. He wouldn’t even blink. It was therefore impossible to judge if the high that humans experienced was the same as he had felt.

But getting high hadn’t been his purpose in designing the serum, so Alex had tried again, with a stronger dose. The second time, the high sensation was distinct and very pleasant. He had noticed his thoughts slowing down even then. That was when he had felt the impending sensation. Something is going to happen! His breath, his heart, his thoughts had held still, waiting for this momentous thing to occur. It was just around the corner, about to happen at any moment.

He knew that when it did, it would be wonderful. The potential of the moment throbbed in him. His flesh was slick with sweat and his heart raced. As a doctor, he knew that his adrenaline had spiked hard, preparing his body for this wonderful thing that was about to happen. He could taste the coppery, bitter dregs in his mouth. Even that sensation was joyful because his adrenal glands had been defunct for ten centuries.

But the thought had eluded him that time, as it had every time he had dosed himself since then. He had gradually increased the dose, reaching for the thought, the idea, the whatever-it-was that lay just ahead in his mind. Every time he would come to himself a few hours later in real time, still ignorant of what his mind was trying to tell him, but with the ingrained certainty that it was very important he uncover the knowledge.

Today, he had doubled the dose from the previous occasion. Even as he had prepared the syringe, Alex debated with himself. It was incredibly stupid, doing his own trials. But then, trying to build an antidote to the vampire sedative he had developed two years ago had become very much a secondary concern.

He’d held up the syringe with the pale gold liquid and studied it while he faced the truth. He didn’t give a damn about the antidote anymore. He wanted to find the knowledge, the thing his mind kept teasing him with. He wanted to know what it was that he had been trying to tell himself he should remember or acknowledge.

In a life that had become grinding routine, this was the freshest and most interesting thing to happen in an age or two. The spike of pleasure, the sense of recognition that the thing he was trying to uncover was a happy thing, a good thing…it was as elusive as a shy lover.

So he sat very still, unaware of his physical body except in the same distant way that other thoughts kept floating into focus, then drifting off again. Yet at the same time, he could feel…everything. Every single fine tuft of the rug, pressing against his flesh. The chill of the damp air bathing his body. The soft flutter of the curtains as the wind lifted them. The sound of rain against the water barrel just under the window. Distant traffic. And farther ahead…

Excitement flared in him. All this time he had been focusing within, convinced the thing he sought was a thought or a memory. But now that he had pulled the focus outward, out toward the world, he could see the world opening up to him. And there! Just ahead. There it was, the thing he sought. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it, could feel the hot promise it radiated.

He reached for it. So close, so very close….

His door bell was ringing incessantly.

He frowned. The thought he was chasing slipped further from his grasp.

The other idea came into focus again. The door bell was ringing.

Someone was here. The secondary thought, attached to the idea of the door bell ringing, occurred to him with something like a start.

Alex opened his eyes and shivered. He was cold. But before he could marvel over the novelty of feeling cold, the doorbell chimed once more – a long, long series of notes. Someone was laying on the button with force. How long had they been trying to get his attention?

He rolled over onto his hands and knees, moving stiffly. He got to his feet with painful slowness, trying to shake off the drug’s effects.

Have to be normal.

He had been pretending to be a normal human for a long time, but it was so much harder now.

The bell rang again.

He lifted his head. “Coming!” he called as loudly as he could. Then he looked around the room. His robe was hanging off the back of the sofa. He grabbed that. It would be easier than struggling to dress. His clothes lay scattered across the rug.

Then he went to answer the front door. He didn’t know why, but he kept himself between the door and the outside and glared at the man in jeans and a button-through shirt on his doorstep.

“Alexander Karim?” the man said.

Was that his name now? He couldn’t remember. “Last time I checked, I think I was,” Alex said truthfully.

The man grinned. “That’s one I actually haven’t heard before.” He held out a big white envelope. “You’ve been served, Doctor.”

There was still enough adrenaline in Alex’s system that the surprise didn’t register as it might have. Alex took the envelope with fingers that felt thick, staring at it. It felt like his eyes were very wide. He looked up. The process server was already at the end of the drive. There was an old Honda Civic sitting at the end, blocking the drive. Was that to keep him from running away?

Alex shut the door and turned and leaned against it. Getting the envelope open took long minutes as his fingers didn’t want to cooperate. He finally tore off one end of it and reached inside.

Sharp pain!

With a hiss, he pulled his hand out and stared at the tip of his middle finger. Blood oozed from the paper cut. His finger throbbed.

“I can feel it.”

He realized he had spoken aloud to an empty room and looked up to confirm that there wasn’t anyone there. He was quite alone.

Then he noticed the mess. Through the archway he could see that the living room was littered with clothing, books, notepads. None of the shoes were standing in pairs. The cushions that usually made the divan look so pleasantly overstuffed and comfortable were scattered across the floor. His laptop and tablet were on the coffee table, their power leads hanging over the edge and trailing on the floor.

He turned his head, tracking the disorder. He had walked around and over it all, not even noticing, when he had answered the door.

In the opposite direction, the dining room and the big teak table where he did most of his research…. Alex sucked in small, shocked breath. Normally, he maintained strict order in the dining room, for he couldn’t think if it was chaotic. What he saw through the doorway was a massive assault on good order. Someone had taken a snow blower to the room, scattering paper everywhere.

“What’s the date?” Alex asked the air. His voice was croaky.

Then he answered himself. “Look on your phone, imbecile.”

He guessed that the phone would be with his laptop and tablet and he could look on those if he was wrong. There were always his pants pockets, too. He walked across the entrance to the archway, fighting to walk in an even line. He swallowed as he realized that it was taking far more effort than it should to walk straight. The serum still had a grip on him. If he wanted to, he could probably relax and let it take him once more. He had been so close, after all.

He considered the clear spot on the rug, where he had been sitting. All he had to do was sit down once more.

But wasn’t there something he was going to do. He had come in here to…what?

Didn’t matter. He could deal with it later. There was always time, later.

Without realizing he had even made the decision, Alex sank down to the carpet. Thoughts were already evaporating, leaving him with a silvered plain of nothingness. The quarry could always been seen clearly on the plains, the flat, hard and hot reg. They could be seen for miles and miles, unlike the erg, the rolling dunes that hid the enemy’s approach.

The desert. The place of his childhood. It came to him now with almost painful detail. The dryness in his nose and mouth, the fine sifting sand that got into everything, and the oppressive, relentless heat, that was like a live beast, coiling around one tighter and tighter until it was hard to breathe.

Alex looked out across the dry, stony plain, the reg of his childhood, looking for his quarry. It was out there, nearby. He would find it and then he would know.

Chapter Two

Rafe watched the limousine unload its passengers onto the grand curve of the driveway that swung around the classic fountain in front of his house. He could see them very clearly through the big French doors that separated his office from the front gardens.

There were five adults and the child, Marit. He knew all of them to one degree or another. Veris, who had been a warrior turned doctor when they had first met. Brody, who had been Braenden, back then. Taylor, the woman they were married to. Rafe didn’t know her beyond the fact that she was their wife, but as a human, she had caught and held the attention of two of the most fascinating people ever to wander through time. She could not be underestimated.

The small woman with the long black hair was the housekeeper and nanny, Mia. He had not been introduced to her in Los Vegas, but the council guards had been specific—she had laid one of the guards out cold. As a human, she would bear watching, too.

The last adult to step out of the limousine was the doctor. Alexander Karim. He had also accompanied the threesome to Vegas, which was one of the reasons that Rafe had arranged for him to be called as a character witness. And now he was getting out of the limousine with them, instead of arriving by his own transport, which would be normal. It spoke of a degree of closeness between him and the three.

Marit, the child, was Veris’ biological daughter. The only way that might have happened was with the use of time travel back to when Veris was human. Rafe studied her as she slipped her hand into Brody’s, and looked around with big eyes.

The flesh and blood off-spring of a vampire. For a moment, Rafe felt a touch of something close to envy.

Then Edwina stepped forward to welcome them all into his home. Edwina was Rafe’s daughter—not a flesh and blood child, but his, nevertheless. These days she was posing as his great aunt and the manager of most of his life outside the courtroom. He watched her carefully-coiffed gray hair glint in the late afternoon sunshine as she turned to show them all inside, the gracious hostess.

Rafe listened to them move through the foyer. Marit’s voice was high and excited. Edwina would have told her about the playroom downstairs, then. The soft contralto voice with the accent would be Mia’s.

“Quiet, quiet, little one. This is not your home. You must ask before we hurry downstairs.”

“Please?” Marit asked with a beseeching tone.

“Of course you may, Marit,” Edwina replied. “Please help yourself to anything you need. There is fresh juice in the refrigerator.”

“Cool!”

“Yes, because you definitely need more sugar,” Mia replied. “We’ll be downstairs, if you need us.”

“Thank you, Mia,” came another liquid, very feminine voice. That would be Taylor.

“Through here,” Edwina said.

Rafe got to his feet as the left-hand side of the door opened and the four remaining adults entered. Edwina didn’t come in. Instead, she closed the door behind them.

Veris was the first to reach him and he held out his big hand. Rafe took it and for a moment, tension thrummed. He could almost feel the impact travel up his arm. Memories pushed themselves forward, demanding attention. Flashes of times long gone. The creak of a cart. Conversation. The hot sun beating down. The giddy feeling of freedom. And this man sitting beside him, not just on the cart, but other times after that, too.

Veris’ mouth quirked at the corner. “Rafael.” There was a look in his eyes that told Rafe Veris was recalling many of the same moments. “You’ve stayed away far too long.”

Rafe let his hand go. “It wouldn’t have been natural for me to visit, so I didn’t. Although, I regret the necessity,” he added truthfully.

Brody stepped forward. “Rafael.” He didn’t hold out his hand, but he didn’t need to. As far as Rafe was concerned, both Veris and Brody had long ago by-passed human niceties like hand-shakes. There was a look on Brody’s face that mirrored Veris’. He was mired in memories, too, but they were different memories and different times.

Rafe grinned at him. “Brody.”

“It’s good of you to meet with us here instead of your office.”

“We can talk with complete freedom here,” Rafe said. “Your trial, even by human standards, is complicated.”

“The tape doesn’t make it a slam-dunk?” Brody asked.

“In normal circumstances, it would be considered circumstantial evidence, despite the chain of evidence being intact. But before we get down to business, I would very much like to be introduced to your wife and your friend. We haven’t met under normal circumstances.”

Brody stepped back. “Yes, of course. Rayner, I would like to introduce our wife, Maggie Taylor Gallagher- Gerhardsson.”

“But you can call me Taylor,” Taylor said, stepping forward. She held out her hand and Rafe took it automatically. Human heat engulfed his flesh and her scent washed over him. It was a heady combination and he looked into her eyes and understood a small fraction of the reason why two vampires who had travelled the world over for centuries would choose this human to bond with and settle down.

“It is very good to meet you, Taylor,” he told her. “I’m Rayner to almost everyone these days, but I would be honored if you call me Rafe.”

“Thank you, Rafe.” Her smile was warm, echoing in her eyes. She oozed sexual confidence, as well she might with Brody and Veris as mates. It radiated all the way from her hair, which swung around her hips in flowing waves, to the silk shirt, trim trousers and narrow-heeled stilettos. “Do you need me to stay for this war council? I haven’t been called as a witness.”

“I would like you to stay, yes,” Rafe told her. “You know the circumstances of this affair.”

Veris drew the doctor forward with a touch on his shoulder. “This is Doctor Alexander Karim. He is a friend of ours, and has been for a long time.”

Alexander Karim held out his hand. “Rayner De Leon. Your reputation precedes you. I only hope you are as good as they say. My friends are depending upon you.”

Rafe gripped his hand automatically, processing the man’s word at the same time he was assessing his appearance. My friends. Well, Karim had the right to call them that in this time and place. Rafe didn’t and for a tiny moment, he felt a sliver of envy intrude. He mentally shook it off and let the doctor’s hand go. “I am an appeal court judge,” he said. “I am breaking with normal practice to try this case as a defense attorney. But the case has interesting legal points that let me justify this. That alone will ensure the judge behaves himself.”

“Is there reason to think he might not?” Karim asked coolly.

“There might be. Perhaps we should all sit at the table and get to work.” Rafe moved over to the antique boardroom table and took the head chair automatically.

As everyone settled themselves around the top end of the table, he puzzled over his reaction to the doctor. He wasn’t sure of Karim at all. There were subtle signs about him that spoke of secrets—secrets beyond the great lie they told every day just by walking among humans as one of them. The man’s appearance was impeccable, from the closely trimmed beard to the neatly cut, glossy black hair, to the extremely fashionable trousers and open collar shirt. Even his shoes were immaculately polished. Maybe that was the problem. The attention to detail was a bit too precise.

“Perhaps you should explain, first, why you think this case will be complicated?” Brody asked. “My days as a lawyer were long ago, but the principles are generally the same, still.”

“Laws change slowly,” Rafe agreed. “One of the insights you gain as an appeals judge is just how slowly that happens. The problem isn’t with points of law, Brody.”

“It’s the District Attorney,” Veris said, making it sound like he was finishing Rafe’s sentence.

Rafe nodded. “For whatever reason, the District Attorney has decided that your case is the perfect example. He’s up for re-election next year and the war on drugs would be a good platform to do it with. If he can prosecute you to the fullest extent, he’ll look like a hero to the people.” Rafe spread his hands. “You have to remember that to the world, you’re a long-haired heavy metal singer, who has earned millions just for screeching into a microphone. The popular myth is that in between concerts, you spend your time inhaling drugs and screwing anything that comes near you. For most of the general public, the verdict is already in. They figure you deserve whatever you get and the harsher the punishment, the better.”

Brody snorted. “If they only knew the truth about how I really spend my days.”

“Exactly,” Rafe said. “We’re going to have to build a picture in the jury’s mind of a stable, mature man whose life is centered on his family.”

“And that would differ from the truth at what point?” Karim asked. “You’ve just described Brody exactly.”

“Except,” Veris said in a low, controlled voice, “Brody’s family consists of two spouses.”

Rafe sighed. “We’ll do our best to work around that. All we need to do is establish doubt in the jury’s mind.”

“Why do you have to work around it?” Karim said sharply.

Rafe looked at him. “Ménages are not legally recognized in this country and even if they were—”

“That’s not the point,” Karim replied. He held a hand out toward Brody and Veris, who sat on opposite sides of the table, one next to Karim and one next to Taylor. “You’re suggesting that we try to hide that he’s married to two people because Joe Q Public might not like it and it will go against him in court.”

“It will,” Rafe said flatly.

“So Brody must lie about his life? Spend weeks avoiding the paparazzi if Veris is with him? That’s if the media don’t already have pictures of the three of them together in their archives. You really think it won’t come out if you try to suppress it? “

“Doctor—”

“No, I’m not finished,” Karim said sharply. “While he was just a rock star, the media didn’t raise much of an eyebrow about his domestic affairs. It’s unusual but it doesn’t come close to the sensationalism that some music industry people supply every day. But that all changes as soon as you try to cover it up. As soon as the media thinks you’re trying to hide something they’ll go after it like a mongoose after a python, and if you think they won’t find it all and emblazon it across every media channel in the world, you’re either a fool or a bigot.”

Rafe raised his brow. “Exactly how much do you know about my personal life and history, Doctor Karim?”

“Nothing at all,” Karim said coolly. “This is not about you. This is about Brody standing up in court and staying true to himself.” Karim leaned forward, closer to him, the expression in his clear gray eyes intense with some emotion Rafe couldn’t quite pin down yet. “You don’t know Taylor, Veris and Brody like I do. Oh, I know you knew them a long time ago, but you haven’t been privileged to be a part of their lives, where you get to watch them together. It’s not your fault you’re thinking it’s better to cover up the facts the world might find uncomfortable, but if you can get Brody to open up in court and explain what his family means to him, if you can get the jury to see how much he loves Taylor and Veris, and his children – all of them – then half your job will be done. Once the jury understands that, then reasonable doubt about the charges will come to them quite naturally.”

Rafe glanced at the others, feeling like he had been cuffed across the face and was now blinking, pulling his wits together again. Taylor was staring at Karim, her expression soft and warm. Veris was smiling, a tight controlled expression, as he watched the doctor, too. Brody was looking down at the tabletop, clearly uncomfortable with being the center of such an emotional outburst.

Veris looked at Rafe and raised his brow, a silent question.

Rafe stirred and found the words at last. “Thank you for your insight, Doctor Karim. We’ll keep your idea on the table, as we form the trial strategy.”

Karim sat back in his chair and pushed long fingers through his thick hair. “Very well,” he said stiffly.

Rafe pulled himself back to business. “The first thing we need to do is go through what happened the night you were arrested, moment by moment. I want to know everything that was said, everything that you were thinking.” He glanced around the table. “You were all there, so between the four of you, we should be able to put together a moment by moment account.”

Brody opened his mouth and Rafe held up his hand to forestall his protest. “No, it’s not usual, Brody, but I need to know everything, so we can construct a human story to account for any inhuman actions you might have taken. So let us begin with the phone call that brought you to the coach shed.”

Brody sighed and dug in his pocket and tossed a cellphone on the table. “It was a text message. I still have it.”

For the next eighty minutes, they went through the night minute by minute, backing up and filling in as needed. Because of Karim’s, Brody’s and Veris’ flawless memories, reconstructing the events wasn’t nearly as painful as it sometimes was with humans, but Rafe kept questioning, kept filling in every blank moment that arose. He also asked all four of them for their different perspectives of what happened.

Brody naturally found the discussion very uncomfortable. Eventually, he sat back and put his hand on his knee and remained silent, his gaze downcast. Rafe had no doubt that the hand on the knee was held in a tight fist.

But the more interesting perspective was that of Karim’s. The doctor had more or less taken over leadership of the affair, while Veris dealt with Brody on a medical basis and Taylor stayed with them. Stranger still, the three of them had not seemed to mind an outsider stepping in and dealing with the police on their behalf, arranging bail, and getting them all out of the station and somewhere safe, afterward.

Karim didn’t paint it that way, but Rafe could see behind the words as he spoke clearly and smoothly, describing only the events as they happened. Karim’s narrative was remarkably free of emotional detours, subjective interpretations, or any of the biased perspectives that Rafe so often had to shave away before getting at the simple facts. Karim was doing half his job.

It took a very smart man to edit himself down to the facts like that and Rafe found he was asking Karim more and more questions just because the answers were direct.

As the four of them stood up to leave, and Taylor hurried ahead to collect Marit and Mia, Karim squeezed Brody’s shoulder. “It will be all right,” he said softly. He, too, must have sensed Brody’s distress.

Rafe realized that he liked Karim, after all. He liked his intelligence, his sensitivity, and his loyalty to his friends.

But he was still hiding something.

* * * * *

Alex pulled himself back to the current time and place with effort. It was harder to stay on top of the serum at these higher doses, which was only natural, but it made things very inconvenient, especially when someone knocked on the door. Like now.

He forced himself to his feet, his muscles protesting, and pulled the robe around him, moving as quickly as he could. A glance at his cellphone sitting on the coffee table told him he’d been floating in his thoughts for barely forty minutes. It was just gone nine in the evening. But still, it was late for casual callers.

Frowning, he made his way through the house to the front door. Everything was neat and tidy now and he was glad he’d remembered to notice this time. The dining room wasn’t quite perfect, for his papers sat in semi-orderly piles on the table, but it didn’t look like Hannibal and his elephants had marched through, either.

Blinking hard to bring his focus back together, he opened the front door.

Rafael De Leon stood on his doorstep. He turned to look at him as Alex opened the door and Alex took a step backward, confused. He tried to pull himself together. Natural! he mentally cautioned himself.

“Do we have an appointment, your honor?” There, that was natural enough.

De Leon tilted his head, studying him. “I don’t take appointments this late. Do you?”

Alex tugged the belt of his robe tighter. “Clearly, I do not.”

De Leon looked over his shoulder. “I’m not interrupting anything?”

“My peace.” It came out shorter than Alex intended. The effect of the serum was rising inside him. He would gray out in a moment if he didn’t stay on top of it. He swallowed. His heart was slamming against his chest.

De Leon was starting to frown, as he studied him. “Are you quite well?” he asked slowly.

“Fine. I’m fine,” Alex said, but it was hoarse. He gritted his jaw. “This isn’t…” a good time, he had wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come. Focus! he railed at himself. Focus on the details. On the every-day.

De Leon was speaking, but the words were distant and Alex barely heard them. He blinked, focusing on the man’s face. On his black eyes and the thick black lashes around them. On his wavy hair, that was longer than any judge Alex had ever seen before. The olive skin. The thick brows.

Gradually, the serum slackened its grip. His hearing returned to normal.

De Leon was stepping inside and shutting the door. The sound of the door closing was like the thud of a heavy vault door and made Alex wince. “What are you doing?” he demanded. Hadn’t he been about to say something? Had he said it?

De Leon was looking at him. Looking at his eyes. “Although I can scarcely figure out how it possibly happened, it appears to me that you’re stoned, Doctor.”

“Not.” Alex blinked.

The furrow between Rafael De Leon’s brows deepened. “I’m not even going to start on what the fuck did you take that could possibly affect your vampire physiology. Let’s just start with getting you straight.”

“You should…you have to go,” Alex said, but it came out weak.

De Leon gripped his arm. “You’re swaying.”

Alex licked his lips. They were dry. So was his mouth. And his heart wasn’t just galloping, it was ramming out beats like a steam engine at full pressure that could explode any second. He lifted his hand and pressed it against his chest and that small movement took real effort.

From far away, the thought occurred to him that he was having a bad reaction. There were things he should do, that any doctor would do with a patient exhibiting his symptoms. But he couldn’t think.

De Leon was shaking his arm again. “Alex!”

Alex looked up. De Leon’s black eyes were huge and staring at him, but he had to struggle to focus again. “Sommeil,” he said, forcing himself to form the word properly so that De Leon would understand.

“You need Sommeil?”

Alex nodded.

“That’s French. Are you saying you want to sleep, or that’s the name of something?”

“Something.”

“Where?” De Leon seemed sure Alex had it in the house.

“Bathroom.”

He felt his arm being hoisted, then he was turned and walked through the house. De Leon had good instincts. He found the bathroom without back tracking, dropped the lid on the toilet and pushed him onto it. Alex thrust his elbow out over the counter next to him to prop himself up.

De Leon opened the cabinet doors and the cupboards beneath, rifling quickly through the contents. Then he spotted the little glass bottle at the back, with the other substances that would have Alex lose his license to practice if he was discovered with them. De Leon quickly unwrapped a syringe and loaded it. “How much?” he demanded.

Alex told him and he depressed the syringe, squirting back liquid until the quantity was correct. “This is a subcutaneous needle,” he pointed out.

Alex straightened and fumbled at the robe. De Leon swore under his breath and reached over and pushed the robe down, baring his arm. He gripped the muscle and injected the liquid in a way that told Alex he had done it before.

Then he tossed the syringe in the trash can and sat on the edge of the bathtub and looked at him. “How long?” he asked.

“Fifteen…minutes.”

De Leon nodded, his lips pursed. “Very well. Do you want to tell me now what the hell it was you took?”

Alex pulled the robe back up over his shoulder, moving slowly, then lean back against the tank. “Not yet.” The words were still blurry.

“Well, if you think it’s worth it, I suppose no one can stop you. Personally, I can think of better things to do with my brain cells and my time.” There was a note in his voice, a dry one that made Alex think he was almost sneering at him.

That forced him to find the words, to explain himself. “It’s not addictive.”

“Maybe not physically.” De Leon stopped there.

“I wasn’t…I didn’t do it for the high.”

“There’s a side benefit to getting ripped out of your skull?”

Alex drew in a breath. He could feel his heart calming. The Sommeil was kicking in. “I was…looking for something.”

“The meaning of life?” De Leon asked dryly.

Alex shook his head. “With the serum, I can…see. A long way away. And deep inside.”

There was no pithy comeback this time. Alex looked up.

De Leon was staring at him again in that intense way. Perhaps he had his own way of seeing deep inside. Then he smiled a little bit, just the corners curling up. “That’s what you are hiding.”

“Hiding?”

“When you were at the house last week, I knew you were hiding something. I thought you were just wary of me and were holding back on what you know about Veris and Brody, to protect them. But you’re the perfect witness. Candid, truthful and clear as a bell. So that didn’t make sense. I’ve been wondering what your secret was. Now I know.”

“You’d better tell me then, because I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Alex said, letting a chill enter his voice.

De Leon stood up. “Not sitting on this cold porcelain, I’m not. Can you get up, or shall I help you?”

Alex pushed against the counter with the flat of his hand and against the wall next to his other elbow, to boost himself onto his feet. But his strength had left him. He could barely lift himself off the toilet cover.

De Leon grabbed his arm again and hoisted him up in a powerful lift. He kept hold of his arm and walked him back through the house to the lounge room.

Alex shook off his hand. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, but you’re recovering, clearly.” De Leon settled himself on the arm of the sofa. His legs, encased in expensive designer jeans, stretched out. He wasn’t as tall as Alex, but few men were.

Alex sat on the coffee table. It felt better to settle on something solid than the butter-soft cushions of the armchairs. He didn’t for a minute consider sitting on the sofa. Not while De Leon was sitting on it, even if he was sitting on the arm. “You should go,” Alex told him said. “I can look after myself now.”

“No, I don’t think you can,” De Leon said softly.

“Why are you here, anyway?” Alex asked irritably.

“Let’s save that for later. Right now, you look like a man who is in dire need of coffee. I’m presuming that means you should feed. Do you have a convenient supply?”

“A slave?” Alex asked, appalled. “Do you?”

“Never,” De Leon said flatly. “I was a slave once, myself. The idea of enslaving a human for their blood makes me…furious.” He drew in a breath and let it out. “I meant, do you have a human friend you have an arrangement with. It’s not uncommon, especially these days.”

“I prefer to hunt,” Alex said stiffly.

“You’re not in a fit state to move out of the house. Any supplies stocked for emergencies, then?”

Alex swallowed. Now that they were talking about blood and feeding, he could feel the symptoms of hunger rising in him. “I usually…borrow. From the hospital.”

De Leon got to his feet. “Then I’ll have to find a donor for you. Stay here, Alex. You’ll give yourself away if you try to feed for yourself. Think of a drunk trying to sneak into the house where his wife is sleeping, and you’ll understand.”

Alex threaded his fingers together. “I look that pathetic, do I?”

“Not wearing silk Armani, no.” De Leon grinned. “If it helps, I know what you’re going through. We’ll talk, once you can think straight.”

No, thank you, were the first words that rose up in his mind. The idea of talking, of explaining himself, of having to reveal things he hadn’t told anyone for centuries made him deeply uneasy.

But he remained sitting on the table, feeling sober thought and normal function return to him, listening to the traffic far away through the open window, and wondering how De Leon planned on bringing food to him. Hunger won out over his reticence.

Chapter Three

De Leon returned nearly fifty minutes later, just as Alex’s hunger had spiraled into a keening need. He pushed keys into an inner pocket, then pulled a full blood bag out of his jacket. “It’s a bit cool, because I lifted it straight out of the fridge. But I think you’ve had cold blood before.”

Alex almost tore the bag out of his hands. His fangs had already descended, but he hesitated.

“I’ll wait in the kitchen,” De Leon said and walked out of the room.

Alex would have appreciated his discretion, but he was too much in need. He bit carefully into the corner of the bag and began to feed. It was cold, compared to the heat of a human body, but it would do for now.

When he had finished and strength returned to him, he went through to the bedroom, put on clothes and washed his face. He was very nearly sober now. The last traces of the serum were still circulating, making him feel a touch giddy. If he remembered the sensation right, it felt much like it had felt to drink wine—something he had learned to do once he had converted to Christianity.

De Leon was sitting at the dining table, in front of Alex’s laptop. He looked up as Alex walked into the room. “I figured you wouldn’t mind. I have to stay on top of my emails these days and in truth, I didn’t think I would be here this long.”

“You hacked my profile?”

“I logged in as a guest.” De Leon grinned. “I can find out everything I need to know about you with a single phone call. I don’t need to hack your data.”

“You’ve made that phone call?”

“Not yet.” De Leon stood up. It was dark in the room, but neither of them needed much light to see clearly. He moved the laptop away and pulled out the chair at the top of the table. “Have a seat.”

“You are making yourself at home,” Alex observed dryly.

“You forced that on me. Consider it payment for sobering you up. Sit.”

Alex frowned, mildly annoyed at the curt order, but he found himself moving around the table and sitting on the chair De Leon had pushed out. Reluctantly, he agreed with De Leon. The man had helped him straighten up.

De Leon sat down again, and rested his hands on his knees.

“Are you about to give me a lecture?” Alex asked, not sure if he found the idea amusing or not.

“No. But I do want to talk to you about whatever it is you’re snorting or injecting.”

Alex sighed. “I told you—”

“You’re looking for answers where there aren’t any,” De Leon said, cutting him off.

Alex blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I know exactly what you’re doing. I even know why.”

“You don’t know me at all. Even if you made that phone call, you still wouldn’t understand.”

“But I know this, what drove you to seek out other dimensions, or whatever it was that you thought you were doing. I’ve been there, Alex.”

He couldn’t think of a single thing to say in response. Weak denial rose within him, but the fact that De Leon thought he knew what Alex was doing kept him silent. Then he shrugged. “Is there any point in trying to dispute something you seem to feel is so apparent?”

“It’s not apparent, my friend. You have been hiding the severity of your dilemma from everyone, including Brody, Veris and Taylor. Even I didn’t know until I saw you at the front door. But now I know and I know why you hide it from them. I also know why you want to deny it now. You’re lost. You’re adrift in the sea of time, with no direction, no purpose and no idea what you should do next.”

“I think you should leave, De Leon.” Alex said it as calmly as he could, but he really wanted to jump to his feet and beat the man until he left. The violence of his reaction appalled him.

“You had better call me Rafe,” he replied. “You’ve asked me to leave twice now, yet I am still here. “ He leaned a little closer. “One of the few things that pulled me out, when I was where you are, was friends. Family.”

It hurt. More than Alex thought it might. “We are not all blessed with an abundance of offspring,” he said dryly, as his heart thudded on its own.

For the first time, he saw surprised in De Leon’s face.

“Did you think I was not aware of your generational family?” Alex continued. “That we didn’t know about the serial wives you’ve married and the children you have raised, and their children and their children’s children? You have propped up your life with your invented family, but I saw how empty your house was on Sunday. Empty…and with a nursery in the basement. Which of us is the more pathetic, do you think?”

De Leon’s jaw rippled and his eyes narrowed. “How…?”

“Did you think you were the only one investigating the people involved in Brody’s case?” Alex asked.

De Leon sat back. “So Brody and Veris checked me out. Natural, I suppose, for the circumstances.” He seemed more than just surprised, but Alex couldn’t pin it down.

“You knew them well,” he asked, “when you knew them…from before?”

De Leon drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “Very,” he said flatly.

That confirmed the hints and allusions Veris and Brody had let slip over the two years, since their return from Constantinople and Rafael’s abrupt appearance in modern times.

“What were they like, back then?” Alex asked, his curiosity overriding any of the discomfort this conversation was causing. “I met them at the Siege of Jerusalem in ten ninety-nine. That was five hundred years after you had met them and Brody was human when you did.”

De Leon studied him. “Am I imagining the envy in your tone?”

It was Alex’s turn to be surprised. “Not exactly. Not for what you had with them…” he said slowly.

“But because I was there,” De Leon finished. “I’m starting to understand why you’re in the pickle you’re in. You’ve been doing too much looking back. Too much wishing for times long gone.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Am I?” De Leon leaned forward once more. “I will tell you something, Alexander Karim, before I leave. It might comfort you. I envy you for your friendship with them now, in this time. It is something that I do not have. It is something I…miss.”

Alex stared at him. “Then you are angry they investigated you.”

De Leon stood up. “I understand why they did. My connections to the Council make me a political danger to them. But I had hoped that what they knew of me from before, that it would be enough to have their trust, still.” He grimaced. “Survival is often ruthless, is it not? And those two are superb at surviving.” He pushed the chair back under the table. “I will wish you good night, Alex. You should stay off the serum—that is what you called it, didn’t you? You should stay away from it for a while. You need perspective. And you need to focus on the here and now.”

Alex followed him to the front door as a thought occurred to him. “You never did say why you came here,” he pointed out.

De Leon turned to face him, his hand on the door handle. There was an odd look in his eyes. “You don’t know?”

Alex shook his head, mystified.

De Leon did something simple and quite shocking. He lifted his hand and curled it around Alex’s neck. His thumb brushed against his jaw and Alex’s skin sizzled at the contact.

Lingering effects of the serum, he told himself.

But his heart started pattering.

“I like you,” De Leon – Rafe – said.

Before Alex could open his mouth to speak, Rafe pulled the door open, stepped out and shut it again.

Alex’s jaw still tingled.

His heart thundered.

* * * * *

“You’d better sit down and tell us what’s bothering you,” Veris said. “You’ve been twitching since you walked in.”

Alex stepped around Brody’s favorite chair and settled on the sofa, which had been added to the room last year, so that everyone in the family could sit if they wanted to. The sofa was a richly luxurious silk-covered thing with antique braid and glowing colors. It shouldn’t have worked in this room of modern lines and Craftsman chairs, but it did.

“I wanted to wait until the children had left,” Alex said.

Taylor sat next to him and rested her hand on his knee. “Would you like me to leave, too, Alex?”

“No, of course not. Why would you think I would want to exclude you?”

She smiled at him. “You have that confessional air about you, and you were raised in a patriarchal society. I thought you might prefer the company of men to speak of your problems.”

“I do. But your presence is not a negative in the slightest.”

She squeezed his knee. “Thank you.” Then she moved to the other end of the sofa, giving him room.

Veris picked up a chair in one hand and settled it close to the angle between the sofa and Brody’s high back one and settled down. “The kids are all fed and settled for the night. We shouldn’t be interrupted. The floor is yours.”

“Thank you,” Alex said and meant it. “It’s personal, of course, and it has been driving me crazy for two days. I need to consult with experts.”

“Finally,” Veris said, “The doctor acknowledges my superior medical knowledge.”

Brody rolled his eyes. “He said personal, doofus. A cripple could out-hobble you when it comes to dealing with yucky emotions.”

“True,” Veris said without the slightest shred of resentment.

“Actually, it’s both of you,” Alex said.

There was a little silence. Brody and Veris and Taylor all exchanged glances.

“You’ve guessed already,” Alex said.

“Why don’t you tell us, anyway,” Veris said gently.

Alex took a deep breath and let it out. Then he scratched at his hair. “Hell, this is harder than I thought it would be.”

“Blaspheming, too,” Brody added, his voice just as soft.

Alex shifted on his cushion uncomfortably. “I thought I had offloaded all this nonsense centuries ago, but it seems I have latent prejudices lingering, still. This is very difficult to speak of.”

“Would you like me to start you off?” Taylor asked.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Alex said truthfully.

She leaned forward. “This is about Rafael, isn’t it?”

Alex caught his breath, then realized that had given them his answer, so he shrugged. “Yes. How did you know?”

“I guessed,” Taylor confessed. “He was watching you very closely when we were at his house last week. I might have put it down to him not knowing you as well as any of us, but now you’re here, so that puts it in a different light.”

“My wife,” Veris said proudly.

Taylor stuck her tongue out at him and looked back at Alex. “What is the expertise you need?”

“I don’t for a moment imagine that you made a move on him,” Brody said, and despite the light words, his tone was quite serious. “It’s not in your nature, so even if you’re sweating over getting him into bed, you wouldn’t do that.”

“Rafael learned quickly how to reach for what he wanted, anyway,” Veris said. “He started late, but he was a fast learner. So, Rafael came on to you and now you think you’re in some sort of dilemma?”

Alex grinned. “No, no dilemma.”

Again, the little silence.

Veris stirred. “Ah…” he said softly.

“You three are always three steps ahead of me,” Alex complained. “I never feel stupid except when I’m with you.”

“We don’t think you’re stupid at all,” Taylor said swiftly.

“You wouldn’t get invitations here if you were,” Brody added. “Stupid is a self-correcting condition most people can’t be bothered to address and that offends me.”

“I won’t tell you what it does for Veris,” Taylor added. “So, if you have no dilemma to resolve, that means you’ve made up your mind one way or another. You wouldn’t be here if you plan to say no and move on. You want help saying yes, is that it?”

Alex blew out his breath. Relief touched him. “More or less,” he said carefully. “I’m not totally ignorant of how it goes between men, as I’ve been watching you two for years, but I’ve never….it’s new territory for me.”

“And what about the lovely Ms. Stevens?” Veris asked. “I thought you were completely smitten by her.”

Something like guilt touched Alex. “I am,” he said swiftly. “But this…it’s…”

“Different,” Brody finished firmly, sitting up and leaning forward. “Veris, stop giving him a hard time. You had mentors when you were younger, and I…” he scowled. “I wasn’t given a choice. I learned the hard way how it goes. But we both had to learn. Same as we – all three of us – had to learn about sex with the opposite gender. It’s a legitimate question.”

Alex nodded. “I was given a teacher when I was thirteen. She was one of my father’s slaves. She taught me everything she knew about sex.”

At their surprised expressions, he smiled again. It was good to set them back and surprise them every once in a while. “My father didn’t want me to sully the family name by failing to perform adequately in bed. So her education was thorough. That’s why I’m flailing, somewhat. I know all the mannerisms and the delicacies of seducing a woman, but…” he pressed his lips together, then pushed aside all the stupid reluctance that was stopping him from speaking. “I don’t know how to seduce a man.”

“What makes you think it’s any different from seducing a woman?” Veris asked. “What would you have done if Rafael was a woman who had made a pass at you?”

“Ignored it, most likely,” Alex said flatly. “I prefer my women softer.”

“You mean more pliable, don’t you?” Taylor asked, a hard note in her voice.

Alex smiled at her. “I like my women to be all woman, to be confident in their sexuality, to know what they want, yes, but to use all their skills to let me seduce them. The forced kiss and the hand at the crotch are not seductive. Not at all.”

Taylor smiled. “You must miss a great many opportunities.”

“I do,” Alex said flatly. “But the quality of the ones that do come my way more than make up for it.”

Taylor raised her brow. Veris was smiling his little smile and Brody was grinning. “Are you taking notes, Taylor?” he asked.

“I’m not planning on seducing Alex, thank you,” she said shortly. “You two are more than enough. Besides, it doesn’t take all my womanly wiles to get you into bed. You’re both permanently in heat.”

“With you around, my lovely one, you wonder why that is?” Veris asked. He picked up her hand and kissed it, then sat back. “Where were we?”

“What would Alex do if Rafael was a woman,” Taylor said, and the hard note had gone from her voice.

“Indeed,” Veris agreed. He looked directly at Alex. “It’s exactly the same. Well, the approach is the same. The end result is just as good, too. Different, but good.”

Taylor shook her head. “No, you’re wrong,” she said firmly. “I’ve watched you two together for years, too, and I have an insider’s perspective that Alex doesn’t. When you two are together it’s…harder. More direct. There’s not a lot of the caressing and teasing you do with me.”

Brody was still sitting forward. “It’s not harder, Taylor. I know what you mean, but it’s just two men doing what feels good. What feels good between us, rather than between you and me, is different. It’s…male.”

“Yes,” Taylor agreed, nodding.

Brody looked at Alex. “You won’t ever understand this until you’ve been through it. Don’t listen to blondie over there. His seduction technique is to grab you and hold you down while he does what he wants. Very subtle. And not your style at all. My best advice, Alex, is to listen to what your feelings are telling you to do, and do it. There is no right and wrong here.”

“Thank you,” Alex said heartily.

“And make sure Rafael knows you’re new at this,” Veris added.

Alex held back his protest. The idea of confessing he was completely inexperienced felt deeply unsettling.

“He will understand, if he cares at all,” Brody added. “And if he doesn’t, then find someone else. When it comes to romance, the rules are universal.”

“He will understand,” Veris said firmly. “I guarantee it.”

This time Alex was part of the trio of silence, as Taylor and Brody glanced at each other, then at Alex. They all looked at Veris, waiting.

Veris grimaced. “Said too much, didn’t I?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I was the first partner Rafael chose for himself.”

“Knew it,” Brody said.

“Rafael needed…transition time,” Veris added.

Alex nodded slowly. It was another glimpse into their very long lives, and filled in a tiny missing spot in the aftermath of their jump back to Constantinople. It was also an interesting insight into Rafael, too.

He stood up. “I won’t linger and spoil your evening any longer. Taylor, thank you for your hospitality. Your home and family are as always, a special treat to spend time with.” He dug in his pocket for his car keys. “Veris and Brody, you have been a great help, thank you. I appreciate your candor.”

“And why have you suddenly become all formal?” Brody asked curiously.

“He’s always formal when he has received a formal invitation and hasn’t just dropped in,” Taylor said. “Haven’t you noticed? All those Muslim rules of civility. It’s nice. You’re always welcome here, Alex. You are one of our favorite people.”

Alex kissed her cheek. “And you, mine,” he replied truthfully.

* * * * *

Alex was still debating his best course of action when Rafael opened the door, spilling light out upon the step. “Alexander,” he said, as if he had been expecting him, which perhaps he had been.

Alex was more surprised that it was Rafe who answered the door. “I was expecting your daughter to answer the door,” he said. “I had an excuse all ready to use.”

Rafael grinned and stepped aside. “She lives in a suite that is separate from the house and besides, it’s past midnight. I’m quite alone here at the moment.” He shut the door behind Alex. “Come on through. I’m in the middle of mixing a cake.” He moved ahead and Alex followed.

“You bake?” Alex asked.

“I find it oddly therapeutic. I picked up the habit when my children were all young. It was fun to bake treats for them during the night, ready for them the next day. I haven’t quite lost the habit, yet. It helps me think.”

They were passing through a living room that was grand in scale, featuring lots of gleaming walnut and brocade. It was a judge’s house, fitting the role that Rafael was filling these days. Alex wanted to see a more private room, though. He wanted to spot the real Rafael.

The kitchen almost qualified as private, except that not just Rafael would use this room. But despite it being a large room with a butler’s pantry and a walk-in closet that was bigger than some bathrooms that Alex spotted through the door that stood ajar, it was warm and inviting. There were genuine terracotta tiles on the floor and walls, which helped with the ambiance, along with copper pots hanging from the rail over the island. There was an enormous oven and range, over which a brick hood had been built. It drew the eye. The bricks were rough, as if the structure had been there for centuries.

At one end of the island, there were bowls and measuring cups and spoons, and canisters with ingredients for the cake Rafael was making. Rafael headed for them. As he passed the stools lined up along the counter, he pulled one out and patted it. “Have a seat. I won’t be long.”

“Is this what your house looked like, when you were human?” Alex asked.

Rafael picked up the wooden spoon in the bowl, and snorted. “I didn’t live in a house. I lived in a hovel. It could barely stand up on its own. It leaked when it rained and was always freezing.” He looked around the room. “This is what the aristocrats lived in, although they would never have stepped into their own kitchen.”

“You’re from Spain, originally, yes?”

Rafael cracked two eggs with one hand, and dropped them into the mixture and stirred. “What would become Spain. The Iberian Peninsula. Back then, the place was called Iberia.”

“Back then was the fifth century?”

Rafael smiled. “I suppose Brody and Veris have told you a bit about me.”

“Not a lot,” Alex said. “They’re very discreet.”

“I see. Then you know….?”

“I had already guessed, even before your comment the other night. You had affairs with both of them, at different times.”

“And you didn’t?” Rafael asked curiously. He poured the contents of the bowl into the waiting cake pan.

“When I met them…well, it was somewhat confusing, that time, because I met the contemporary Brody and the older Veris at the same time, because of the time travel. Later, I got acquainted with the older Brody. But even when I first met them, they were with Taylor.”

“She is a lovely woman,” Rafael observed and turned to put the cake into the oven. He closed it and set the timer.

“I thought myself in love with her for quite a long time,” Alex confessed. “Then I realized what it was I loved about them and grew out of it.”

Rafael raised his brow. “So. You couldn’t see Veris and Brody because of your love for her.”

“I could see them very well. I just…” Alex sucked in a breath, his heart racing. Say the words! He railed at himself. “I have never considered men as lovers until now.” He swallowed. “You will be my first.”

Rafael studied him and silence gripped the kitchen. There was a tightness across Alex’s chest, making the middle of it ache.

“Curiosity?” Rafael asked. “Is that what brings you to my door?”

Alex gripped the edge of the cool marble counter. “Is curiosity what drove you to take Veris as a lover?”

Rafael’s jaw tightened. “That was very complicated. There were a lot of things that made me…” He hesitated. “Curiosity was not part of it, no.”

Alex nodded. “You touched my face the other night. I have never reacted to another’s touch like I did with you. Curiosity is not part of it for me, either.”

Rafael moved around the counter and up to where Alex sat, his whole body thrumming with tension. He stood before him. “Then we are agreed.” His voice was lower. Heavier.

Alex obeyed his instincts. He stood, then slid his hand around Rafe’s neck. The flesh was soft. He swept his thumb over his cheek. Rafael’s breath emerged, loud in the absolute silence. “I want to kiss you,” Alex murmured.

“Then kiss me.”

Alex drew him closer. Even just his hand resting on Rafe’s neck was enough to make his fingers tingle. He really had not felt this with anyone, before. It was a novelty floating on a sea of repetition, conspicuous by its difference.

He pressed his lips against Rafael’s, tasting him with a touch of hesitancy. The rush of impressions left him almost breathless; the surprising softness of his lips, his scent, which was unusual for a vampire, but quite distinct, nevertheless. There was taut flesh under his fingers, and defined muscles.

Then the kiss deepened. Alex found he was drawing Rafe closer still, until their bodies pressed together. He held Rafe’s head with both hands and drove his tongue into his mouth. There was no thought there, no decision to be made. He wanted to do it. He was barely conscious of the desire, but he obeyed the instinct. It was a sound one, for the pleasure leapt. His heart was a runaway and he could feel Rafe’s heart thudding against his chest. That heightened the sensations and made them better. His breath was rough and uneven.

Then Rafe groaned and Alex’s heart—his whole body—leapt. He broke the kiss, but didn’t move away. He looked into Rafe’s eyes.

Rafe cleared his throat. “I made the mistake of thinking that because you have never been with a man, your experience in general would be limited. How stupid of me. I don’t think I’ve ever been kissed so…thoroughly.”

“I’m simply following my instincts,” Alex said. “So far, I like where they are taking me.”

Rafe pulled him closer once more and this time he led the kiss, driving Alex up against the counter and pressing against him even harder. Alex could feel Rafe’s cock, thick and hard, against his hip. His own had been throbbing since the first kiss. His heart squeezed and a thrill fizzed through him. Brody was right. This was different in a very male way…but yet it was the same. The familiarity let Alex relax and inhale the pleasure.

He could feel his heart beating in his temples and hear the throbbing in his head. He was a tight coil of need.

Letting himself move purely as his body’s needs dictated, Alex reached out and snagged Rafael’s belt. He pushed him away so that there was an inch of space for him to work the buckle with one hand. He had never unfastened a man’s belt when it was being worn by another man, and the buckle worked in reverse to what he was accustomed to. Alex fumbled, then slid the leather out of the metal square, then went back to kissing Rafe, which he was finding a powerfully pleasurable thing to do. Rafael knew how to kiss, even without benefit of formal lessons from a slave concubine.

The belt fell to either side and Alex pushed his hand under the band of Rafe’s jeans, his thumb over the heavy metal button.

Rafe pushed away, gasping. His chest under the simple shirt was heaving. “No, not yet,” he said. He shook his head. “This will sound insane, Alex, but…I hardly know you.”

“You know me enough.”

“Enough to fuck you, oh yes. I just…I find I don’t want to simply fuck you. I want more.”

Alex drew in an uneven breath. “A relationship?” he asked.

“Yes. A relationship,” Rafael said. “At least, I would like to see where this might go. The question is, do you? Or do you want to slake whatever your needs are and be done?”

Alex gripped the edges of the counter on either side of his hips. The counter felt very cool against his skin. He was becoming warmer with the beating of his heart, generating heat. “I don’t want to just fuck you,” he said slowly. “There are male prostitutes on every street corner for that. But I don’t know where this might go. I have to be fair and warn you. There is someone else I can’t get out of my thoughts, who draws me as much as you. I don’t want to ruin any possibilities.”

“A woman?” Rafe asked.

Alex shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. I just wanted you to know. Until we know what this is, then I want to keep my options open. After that…well, we’ll see.”

“You’re honest, as well,” Rafe said. “I like that.” He reached out and lifted the band of Alex’s sweater. “You should go home. But first, I want to give you a parting gift. Something to remember me by.”

Alex swallowed and clenched at the counter even harder, as Rafe pushed his sweater up his torso, then dropped his hands to his trousers and opened them. The wool sagged open and Rafe casually pushed the trousers down his hips.

Alex’s cock sprang upward and the air was cool around it. It throbbed in time with his heart, and the blood congested there was almost a dark purple.

Rafe ran his fingers the length of his cock, and Alex hissed in reaction as sharp excitement shot through him.

Then Rafe curled his fingers around the shaft and stroked and Alex rolled his head back, the groan emerging deep and hard. He was so close to losing it completely, to losing the control that made a superior lover.

When Rafael dropped to his knees in front of him, Alex caught his breath. “Do you intend…?” he whispered

Rafe looked up at him with a roguishly charming grin. He gripped his cock, then plunged it into his mouth.

Heat. Heat from a vampire that must surely be as driven as he. Moisture and softness. And firmness. For a fleeting moment, barely formed in his mind, Alex recalled Taylor’s word for it. Hardness.

Rafael knew personally what were the most pleasurable and effective strokes and teasing. His lips bumped over the head of Alex’s cock with delicious friction, and he began to tremble with the power of the coming orgasm. His control was jittering apart, as his body gathered around the climax, building it, driving it upward.

At the last second, before the climax exploded, Alex shoved his hands into Rafe’s hair, gripping his head, and driving himself into his mouth. He was helpless to prevent it. The need was so powerful, his hips thrust almost with their own intelligence.

He came with a shout that sounded hoarse and uncontrolled. Fluid pumped from him, as the pleasure rocketed up from his toes and his testicles. He could feel the tendons in his throat straining.

Finally, he blinked and let Rafe go. Rafe stood up, a small smile playing on his lips. “I think I’m going to enjoy seducing you.”

Alex refastened his trousers with trembling hands. “No, you won’t,” he said firmly.

Rafe’s smile slipped. “Why not?”

Alex caught his chin in his hand and kissed him, hard. “Because I intend to seduce you.”

Chapter Four

Sydney always hated driving home late at night, but lately, she seemed to be doing that more and more.

To ease the boredom and the descending self-pity (loneliness, Stevens, you can call it what it is when it’s just you), that seemed to gather like a miserable cloud when she navigated almost deserted streets like this, she thrust her Aerosmith CD into the player and cranked the volume. While she tapped the steering wheel, she hummed the words, trying as always to ignore the sexist lyrics and enjoy as she always did the rhythm and the beat.

There were lights at the intersection of Oxnard and Tujunga that were always against her, no matter what time she came through, and tonight was no different. She eased the Mustang to a halt, using the gears to slow it down, until it sat purring at the line. She shifted into first and eased the clutch out just enough so she could take off as soon as the light changed. She watched the opposite lights, waiting for them to sluggishly flicker to yellow, then after what seemed like a small ice age, to red.

Then she counted off in her mind and hit the gas just as the light changed.

She saw the neon bright headlights from the corner of her eye, as they lit up the interior of her Mustang and realized that the car was running the traffic lights and heading straight for her passenger side. It wasn’t even braking.

She dropped back into first, to try to power the car out of the way, but it was too late. Even as she dropped the clutch, the big tank of a car rammed into her.

There was the peculiar sound that cars these days made when they were hit. A flat, crumpling sound. Then the airbags went off and Sydney was abruptly enveloped in white, smelly pillows, bouncing against her side and her face like a slap.

The car tilted and she screamed, for it was going to roll. She couldn’t bring her hands up, they were trapped under the airbags, which were softer now as the gas dispersed. She couldn’t see anything. All she could hear was the roar of the other car engine.

The Mustang rolled, not just once. As it came to rest on its wheels once more, there was a second impact. The passenger side door was nearly up against her and she screamed again.

The car rolled and this time, there was no air left in the bags at all. Sydney was rattled around inside the imploded car like a pea in a tin. Somewhere in the slow roll of the car, around when she heard the roof scraping on the tarmac, the other car hit again and she was thrown forward to jerk up against her seat belt. Her head kept moving and rammed into the padded steering wheel.

Her focus blurred after that. She was still conscious, but knew it wouldn’t last. Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, things were still functioning. Assessing. Three hits…that’s deliberate. Someone is trying to kill me. The cool fact asserted itself even as she was scrabbling for the wheel, to anchor herself. Her side hurt like she had been kicked by a horse. Cracked ribs, sweetheart, came the same cool voice.

The car finished another half roll and came to a stop on the roof, which gave another plastic-sounding crumple. Then silence, broken only by the soft ticking of over-heated and stressed metal parts, and far away, the sound of another engine.

Then boots, gritting on tarmac.

Sydney swallowed as bitter adrenaline flooded through her. Even swallowing hurt. Her eyes wouldn’t focus properly and the pain was enormous. She hung upside down, but didn’t want to move at all, because it would hurt.

All the while her mind was screaming at her. Get out! Get out! Those boots are the killer coming to finish you off. Where is your gun?

But the gun was in the glove box, far out of her reach, per protocol.

The boots stopped right next to her window. Man-sized boots, highly polished. No scuffs anywhere.

She heard a gun cocking.

Move it! She screamed at herself. She reached for the belt buckle and moaned as the expected pain seared through her. But she kept reaching anyway and found the buckle by touch. She slid her fingers over it, then pressed the button.

The seatbelt retracted sluggishly, but it didn’t matter. The release of the belt sent her tumbling to the roof, to land in an inelegant huddle. For a moment, the world grayed out, then came swimming back. But Sydney knew it was too late. She couldn’t move any farther. She had used up the last of her strength.

The boots shifted. The killer turned.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you.” The voice was loud. Almost booming. Sydney winced. But it was a voice she knew.

Silence, that seemed to last for a very long time. Far, far away, she heard sirens. They were a familiar, almost comforting sound to someone in her profession, and with a start she realized that they were coming for her. Someone had called it in. Bless them, whoever they were.

“The police are coming,” the voice said. “I can stop you just long enough for them to get here and when they find out you’ve tried to kill one of their own…well, I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes.”

A car door closed. Hard. The engine of the other car revved, then accelerated past her ruined Mustang, spitting pebbles.

Sydney slowly worked it out. The killer next to her wasn’t the killer. He had scared them off, whoever they were.

The boots shifted again and bent, then a hand came into view, propping him up. Then a face as he leaned down low to look at her.

“Alex,” she breathed. Or perhaps she merely thought it.

Alex was studying her, a frown marring his brow. “You’ll be okay, Sydney. Everything is fine now.”

The knowledge was like a catalyst. She could hear and feel the muzziness sweeping over her. She was going to pass out and struggled against it. She had too many questions!

With enormous effort, she formed the words. “Why are you here?”

He looked up, to spot the approaching sirens, then back at her. His movement made something fall out of his folded up pants pocket. Something small and gold. She could focus on how shiny it was, while the rest of her vision turned gray, then black.

“I wasn’t here at all, Sydney,” Alex murmured. “I’m just a figment. Wishful thinking. You’ll wake up in hospital and know you imagined it all.” His words came from far away. She could hear his boots on the tarmac, moving away, and reached out with her hand. It wouldn’t stop him, she knew. Ghosts couldn’t be held. So she probed with her hand, her vision already gone, and felt the shiny, smooth thing under her fingers and gripped it.

* * * * *

Sound was the first thing that came to her, just as it had been the last to fade. Sydney listened to noises, cataloguing them. It was a long while before she wondered where she was. Then she remembered and consciousness came crashing back along with all her memories.

How badly injured am I? That was the primary thought. She opened her eyes and identified the room as a hospital room, which she had been expecting. She was propped up on pillows, a heart monitor was blipping quietly next to her, and there was an IV pole to her left.

She let her gaze move around the room once more, without moving her head. Already, there was a vicious, jagging ache that seemed to envelope her entire brain and squeeze.

Alexander Karim sat on the visitor’s chair beside the bed. She could just see him from the corner of her eye; the dark hair and trimmed beard were unmistakably him. She had been expecting him, she realized. She had known he would be there.

“Alexander,” she said and it was a weak sound.

He stood up and came to the side of the bed, where she could see him properly. He gave her a small smile. “They thought you would wake around now. How are you feeling?”

“Head hurts.”

Alexander nodded. “The attending doctor gave me the details of your condition. I told him I was your family doctor.” He smiled again. “I’ve been making a nuisance of myself, monitoring your treatment. I hope you don’t mind?”

“I don’t mind,” she said. In fact, his concern was warming. “How bad is it?”

“You have a concussion and a fractured rib. Lots of scrapes and nicks, but that’s all. Under the circumstances, you’re incredibly lucky.”

“I hit my head on the steering wheel, when the car rammed into me from behind. That was the third time.”

“Third time?” Alex repeated. “The police know someone hit you. There’s foreign paint buried in the dents. But at the moment they think it was someone running the lights, then took off before they got there. A third hit…are you sure, Sydney?”

“You should know, you were there.”

His face was quite blank. “I was?”

“Yes. You came and spoke to me afterward, just as the emergency trucks were arriving.”

He considered her soberly. “I really wasn’t there,” he said slowly. “The concussion and the shock…it could have made you think I was there.”

I’m a figment. You’ll wake up in the hospital and know you imagined it all. Sydney shook her head, denying both Alex’s suggestion and the voice in her head, then winced as a booming pain echoed through her head.

“Would you like something for the headache?” Alexander asked.

“If you weren’t there,” she said, ignoring his question, “then how did you know I was here?”

“This is my hospital,” Alexander replied. “There’s a nurse in the ER who I know quite well. She called me.” He straightened out the cover with a sweep of his hands. “Head injuries and stress can do some very strange things to your mind.”

Sydney bit her lip. She could barely recall the last few minutes before she had passed out, now. “But your face. Your boots. It was so clear. You spoke to someone.”

“I did?” he seemed amused.

“You told them to back off. You scared them away. I heard you.”

Alexander didn’t answer, but she could see the disbelief in his eyes.

“You don’t believe me,” Sydney said. “That doesn’t matter. I know what you did. You can deny it all you like, but I know. You saved me. They were going to kill me.”

Again, his eyes widened and his brow rose.

“Three hits,” Sydney said. “Then they stopped and got out of the car. They were going to come over and make sure they had killed me with their car, or finish me off if I was still alive. You stopped them.”

She could see he was thinking hard, working out the ramifications for himself. “Who would want to kill you?” he asked reasonably. “You don’t work active cases anymore. Anyone with a grudge would have come after you a long time ago.”

“Perhaps they just got out of jail,” Sydney said. “Until I look into my old case files I’m not going to make any guesses.”

Alexander straightened up. “Your captain is waiting. He’s anxious to talk to you. I’ll go and get him, and talk to your attending about when you can be released. Sydney….”

“What?”

“You don’t have to lie, but you might find your story sells better if you don’t mention me being there.”

“Because I imagined it all?” she asked.

“Because someone trying to kill you actually sounds feasible,” Alex said. “The rest…” He shook his head. “You’ll dilute the facts if you speak of it.”

She pressed her lips together. “You don’t want to be pulled into this,” she concluded.

“I wasn’t there, Sydney. I was with Brody and Veris and Taylor tonight. It’s Taylor’s birthday. You can ask them yourself when you get out of here. But in the meantime, consider not mentioning anything about me. You know the police mind intimately. You know how they think. If you start raving about me stepping in and saving you, it’s going to sound…”

“Crazy,” Sydney whispered.

“It will put the rest of your testimony into question,” Alex pointed out.

True.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’m glad you’re safe,” he murmured. “I’ll go and get the captain.”

Sydney weighed up her options while she waited for Baker to step in. Before Baker arrived, though, another doctor came hurrying in, a clipboard in his hand. He was her attending, he told her, as he flashed a light in her eyes that hurt and inspected a cut on her face. He also repeated what Alex had already told her. She had concussion and a fractured rib, neither of which required hospital care. He would write her a prescription for the pain, but she should go home with a friend and was to stay awake for twenty-four hours.

Sydney blinked. “Twenty-four?”

The doctor was busy writing in his chart. “Yes, and no alcohol.” He didn’t look up.

Because what I really want to do right now is party, Sydney thought.

Baker arrived almost the moment the doctor left, which made her think he’d been held back until the doctor had completed his inspection. Baker was gripping his cap and kept clearing his throat, barely looking her in the eyes. She assumed from his constant shifting from foot to foot that he was uncomfortable. Whether his discomfort came from being in a hospital, or that one of his ‘men’ was temporarily down, she didn’t know.

After a superficial enquiry about her health, Baker called in Dean and Alfonse, two of the senior detectives in her district.

Sydney told them her story. Right up until the moment when the boots appeared and she heard the voice. Up until then, she had intended to tell them about Alex being there. There was no reason to omit the fact, except that it didn’t really seem to be a fact at all. Was it her imagination? Alex had been very convincing when he had maintained he wasn’t there.

Finally, at that last moment, she changed her mind. “I think the sirens scared them off,” she said. “I heard the car take off, but I couldn’t see too much by then. It was all grayed over. Then I woke up here.”

“We can pull traffic cams and security feeds in the area,” Dean said, scribbling madly. “We’ll get the bastard, Lieutenant.”

“I know you will,” Sydney told him.

He grinned. “On it,” he said, and he and Alfonse left.

Baker was still crumpling his cap. “Any idea who did it, Lieutenant?”

She gave him the same answer she had given Alex. “Until I look through my old case files, I couldn’t come up with a single name.”

“Doc says you won’t be reading for a bit.”

“God, did he tell everyone my health status?” she complained.

Baker grinned. “Just me,” he said. “I’ll keep it close that you’re not able to chew bullets and shit steel for a while. Don’t want the boys thinking you’re going soft.”

The crudity was typical for Baker and the station in general. It assured Sydney that things were normal. No one was worrying too much over her (except Alex), and they were doing all the normal things they would do to find the perpetrator when one of their own had been the victim.

Something in her relaxed. She had survived this one.

But she didn’t like that she had lied to her own.

* * * * *

Concussion, Sydney discovered, did stupid things to one’s balance. She found she was clutching Alex’s arm more tightly than she thought appropriate and was thankful when the nurse parked the wheelchair behind her and invited her to sit.

Alex wheeled her through the hospital to the parking complex behind it. “You don’t have a car,” he said, “and I’m guessing you don’t have anyone at home to watch you for the next twenty-four hours.”

“I have Bruce,” Sydney said, momentarily mourning the loss of her beloved Mustang.

“Boyfriend?” Alex asked.

“St. Bernard,” she replied. “He’s going to be breaking the front door down to go out for his walk, by now, too.”

“A St. Bernard I can handle,” Alex said.

“He’s protective,” Sydney warned. “We’ve been a couple for a long time.”

“Don’t worry about Bruce,” Alex said. “Don’t worry about anything. At least not for the next day or so. I’m going to keep you entertained.” He pushed the wheelchair up to a black Mercedes, and opened the passenger door. “No arguments, Lieutenant?” he asked, a small smile at the corner of his mouth.

“I’ve been demoted,” she complained. “I was Sydney, for a while.”

“That was merely my bedside manner,” Alex told her.

She looked at the car again. “A Mercedes just doesn’t seem to suit you,” she said.

Alex grinned, his white teeth flashing in the dim light of the car park. “But it suits a respectable doctor, yes?”

“Yes, that’s true,” Sydney conceded.

“The Jaguar is at home,” Alex told her. “The suspension is so tight on that thing it rides up and down every single little bump in the road. Last thing a concussion patient needs.” He held out his hand. “Up you get. Nice and slow.”

She took his hand. It was cool to touch, but she could feel strength to spare in his grip as he hauled her to her feet. Then he helped her settle in the passenger seat. He pulled the seat belt out from the doorframe, and held out the buckle. “Here.” She appreciated him not leaning over her to do it up himself. She was already resenting her helplessness.

As he walked around to the driver’s side, Sydney saw a metal plaque on the wall in front of the Mercedes. Dr. A. Karim.

Well, he hadn’t lied about this being his hospital, then. Perhaps the rest of his story was true…but no, she would establish for herself what had happened. Facts didn’t lie. Assumptions just screwed you up.

* * * * *

The next thirty hours were hazy in Sydney’s memory and always would be. Alex took her home and she remembered the hesitation she felt over allowing anyone into her apartment. But she really did have to have someone watch her, and so she drew in a deep breath and unlocked the door.

“Brace yourself,” she warned Alex.

Bruce almost leapt out of the door. He was going to drop his front paws on her shoulders, the way he did when he was really excited to see her…or really anxious to hit the dirt so he could do his business. Sydney stepped back, afraid of how much it would hurt to hold his weight up.

Alex got there first. He slid his arms under Bruce’s paws and held him up, looking into his eyes. Bruce started to growl, but Alex stayed perfectly still, staring at him. “You’re going to be obedient and quiet, aren’t you, Bruce?” He didn’t say it loudly, or forcefully, but in a normal voice, as if he was talking to a human.

Bruce’s growls stopped. He licked his chops, just once and tilted his massive head to one side, looking back at Alex.

“Your mistress is not well. We need to take care of her for a while. Will you help me do that?”

Bruce whined. Softly.

“Good boy,” Alex said and let him down.

Bruce backed up until the doorway was cleared and sat down, looking at them.

“That was amazing,” Sydney breathed.

Alex stepped aside and waved her on. “After you.”

He made her sit on the sofa, then unhooked Bruce’s lead from over the hat rack by the door. Bruce was still sitting at the front door and his tail thumped once. Alex held out the clip on the lead. “Let’s go,” he said softly.

Bruce presented his collar, letting Alex clip the lead on, while Sydney stared in disbelief.

“We’ll be back very soon,” Alex said and plucked a plastic bag from the dispenser sitting on the bookcase and pushed it into his jacket pocket.

Sydney doubted they would be. Bruce liked his walks. But barely ten minutes after the door shut on them, they were back. Bruce seemed content and flopped onto the sofa next to her and settled down immediately.

Alex explored her kitchen and made her tea after she confessed she didn’t drink coffee.

“I make tea a special way,” Alex said. “It’s better than coffee.”

He seemed to take forever to make it, but rich aromas came from the kitchen long before he brought the mug to her. “Sip. It’s very hot,” he warned her.

She sipped carefully. “Oh, that’s…it’s so strong!”

“It’s all in the boiling,” Alex said.

She sipped the tea while Alex settled on the footstool, the only other seat in the small room.

“You like history,” he said.

She glanced at the reproduction map on the wall. She had found it rolled up in a reduced-price bin at a little bookstore in New York. It was a map of the Middle East and the route the crusaders took to get to Jerusalem, with hand-drawn figures of knights in armor and lords in robes, and little footsteps marking the trail. The colors were faded, but still clear. Rather than spend the hundreds of dollars it would have cost to get the thing framed, she had taken a framing course and learned to do it herself. She had found archaic-looking framing wood and had stressed and finished it. The end result looked fabulous on the wall.

“What gave me away?” she asked Alex.

“The early editions of Dickens. There’s copy of Poor William framed on the kitchen wall. And you have books. Everywhere. None of them are romances, that I’ve spotted so far.” He looked around the room once more. “And no TV. In your spare time, the little you have, you must read.”

“I can’t read now,” Sydney said dryly. “Not for a few days, anyway.”

“You wouldn’t like it if you tried,” Alex assured her. “Your brain is sorting itself out after being rammed up against the inside of your skull. There’s swelling that has to go down, before it will start to operate normally. The swelling produces excess fluids that must drain.”

“I’ll take your word for it, doctor.” The dry tone was still there, but she couldn’t help it. She grimaced. “It’s going to be a long twenty-four hours,” she muttered.

“Excuse me?”

“I said, the next twenty-four hours are going to be very long.”

“Why?”

“Because I have to stay awake.”

The expression on Alex’s face was indescribable. “Who told you that?” He stood up again. “The attending?”

“Is there something wrong with that?”

“Keeping a concussion patient awake went out of practice a decade ago,” Alex said shortly. “I’ll have his guts for garters, I swear.”

Sydney bit her lip. She had never seen Alex angry, or sad or anything other than perfectly in control. She could see he was simmering, incensed by the medical advice she had been given.

“So, what should I be doing?” she asked simply.

Alex let out his breath in a big gusty sigh. “You can sleep when you want, you should rest as much as you can, and you should take it easy when you don’t. If you want to try to read, try it, but it might make you feel nauseous.”

“If I can’t read, then…?”

Alex shoved his hands into his pockets. “When I was growing up in Jordan, it seemed to me that talking was the primary entertainment.”

“Talking?” She smiled. “Gossip and weather?”

“Stories,” Alex amended. He sat back down on the footstool again and clasped his hands together, resting them on his knees. “Did you grow up in Los Angeles?”

She blinked. “No…I…” She cleared her throat. “Pennsylvania,” she said flatly.

Alex smiled a little. “You don’t like to talk about it,” he said.

“Not particularly, no. All my family is dead. There’s just Bruce.”

Bruce shoved his nose under her hand.

“You?” she asked curiously, patting Bruce. “I mean, I know you come from Jordan originally, because you just said so. I know you converted to Christianity. I know you’re a doctor and I have a feeling you’re a very good one. Did you always want to be a doctor?”

“From as early as I can remember, yes, I wanted to help people heal and thrive,” Alex said. “But medicine was not an honorable profession among my…people. My family insisted I…join the army.”

Startled at this revelation, Sydney pulled her feet up onto the sofa, tucking them under her, as Alex went on with his story. She sipped her tea and listened to stories about his early adulthood, and difficulties with his family, to his conversion and the taking of the cross, to his travels, which were astonishingly extensive. It seemed that he had been everywhere.

He had a story for every moment of his life. Sad ones, funny ones, insightful ones. Alex was a student of character and people and seemed to have hundreds of tales about some of the stranger people he had met.

Just sitting there and listening to his voice was very relaxing. She knew she would never remember all of the stories, but the overall impression followed her down into sleep, where she saw an open desert, wide blue sky and silence, broken only by the soft, warm wind. One could truly be alone there where the approach of another would stand out against the sky or the dun colored dunes.

She blinked awake and realized she was being carried. “No, Alex…”

“Shh. Sleep is best for you now,” he murmured. She was placed on her bed and the covers dropped over her. “Bruce will watch you.” Lips pressed against her temple.

“You won’t be watching me?”

“Until the morning, I will. Then I will leave you in peace, so you can recover on your own. You will sleep a lot for the next few days.”

She didn’t want to sleep. That was the problem. She wanted to find out who had tried to kill her. She had no idea who wanted her dead, which bothered her for two reasons. The first was that someone actually wanted her dead—that was a hard fact to face. The second reason was that she couldn’t start digging up the truth for herself. Now. With no delays.

She felt the bed shift as Bruce jumped onto the other side and settled down and that reassured her enough to let the concerns go and let sleep take her. Bruce…and Alex, in the room beyond these walls.

Chapter Five

Rafe studied the house once more. This was his second visit and the impression of a dwelling built specifically for the heat and dryness of the California climate struck him even more forcibly this time. It helped that the day was blasting hot.

The thick concrete walls covered in pale adobe could be mistaken for Spanish, but the lack of wrought iron, pretty tiles and curved terracotta on the roof said it wasn’t. The roof was flat, and there were deep balconies and arches protecting the doors, casting shade.

From his last visit, Rafe knew the inside of the house was almost all white, cool and Spartan in décor. It was too plain for his tastes, which had been influenced by decades living in Constantinople, but it had a certain charm.

He walked under the wide archway and wondered how many people knew the house was a desert house, built by someone who had lived on the open erg—the sandy waves of country where Alex had been raised.

Rafe’s knowledge of Alexander Karim had increased somewhat since Alex had stopped by three days ago and derailed his baking. During Rafe’s latest debriefing and strategy session with Brody and Veris, both of them had been unusually talkative about Alex and where he came from. It had filled in some of the blanks nicely. There were far more blanks than knowledge, of course, but that was true of any vampire who had lived for more than a few hundred years. Alex was approaching his millennium, which made Rafe considerably older, but the difference was irrelevant. After the first five hundred years, one became adapted to life passing by at a furious rate while nothing changed, subjectively.

Alex was facing his first challenge in that regard, and both Veris and Brody had hinted that he was under stress because of it. His faith was adding to the burden, of course.

Rafe stood with his finger hovering over the door alarm, wondering if he really wanted to get involved with a man—a vampire—who wasn’t sure of his own identity. Then his finger pushed forward, almost by itself, and the question was answered for him.

Alex opened the door quickly and moved back. “You’re early. Good. Come on through.”

Rafe stepped out of the blazing heat. “It’s uncomfortable out there,” he remarked and put his sunglasses away.

“That’s June for you,” Alex said philosophically. He moved through the white arches into the dining room. Rafe remembered from before that Alex did most of his work and research here. The piles of papers and books were still spread across the table, but one end was cleared. Sitting in the middle of the clear space was a small ceramic dish with sealed syringes in it, and next to it, a small vial with yellowish liquid in it.

“Is that the serum you were taking?” Rafe asked. He didn’t like that it was sitting out on the table like this. That made it far too available.

Alex picked up the bottle and shook it. “That’s it,” he said and tossed it to Rafe, who caught it awkwardly, surprised. “I think you’re under the impression it’s a new recreational drug, one that vampires are vulnerable to, and I’ve been indulging too much.”

Rafe held his teeth together. That was exactly what he thought. Not that Alex had to worry about addiction. Nothing changed their brain physiology, while most addictive drugs did change the brain, which was what made them addictive.

Alex pointed to the tiny bottle. “That’s an antidote, or it will be with a little bit more tweaking.”

“An antidote against what?”

“A couple of years ago, I perfected a new sedative. It’s very powerful and I suspect it would kill humans if the dose wasn’t carefully controlled, but vampires are knocked out by it very nicely.”

Rafe raised his brows. “That would be what you used on the council’s guards. They were out for two days.”

Alex shrugged. “Vampires don’t have a metabolism to process the serum and eliminate it. You have to wait for entropy to break it down. Which is why I have been working to find an antidote. Waiting for water to wear down stone is sometimes not convenient.”

Rafe considered the small vial again. “How does the sedative work on vampire physiology? I didn’t think anything could because of the self-healing.”

Alex sat on the edge of the table. “Vampire self-healing isn’t healing at all, not the way a human heals. Human healing tackles the health problems and solves it. Vampires don’t. They just reset everything back to where it was, by-passing the whole healing process. That resetting happens hundreds…thousands of times a day. The sedative stops the resetting.” He smiled. “In a way, it stops what vampires have for a metabolism and as there is nothing else to replace it, it looks like they’re sleeping, but basically, they shut down.”

Rafe shifted uncomfortably. “I thought the healing we do was...well, magic.” He felt odd even saying it.

“Any sufficiently advanced technology looks like magic to a less-developed consciousness.”

“That’s what some author said, isn’t it?”

“Arthur C. Clark. He was talking about the future and other civilizations, but you and I once thought flying was the stuff of magic, too.”

Rafe veered away from the topic. That vampires were not magical beings was disturbing. He promised himself he’d think about it later and lifted the bottle. “Did you try the sedative on yourself, like you did this?”

“Of course. Vampires willing to suffer through research trials are non-existent.”

“So, is the sedative what you used to pull yourself back out, when I was here?”

Alex nodded.

Rafe glanced at the vial again. The liquid moved sluggishly inside, like a pale molasses. “You knocked yourself out for three days? Didn’t anyone send up an alarm?”

Alex grimaced. “Who would do that?”

“Your friends. Brody, Veris and Taylor. There must be others.”

“No one who might notice my absence for three days.” Alex stood up. “But let’s not get into my miseries right now.”

Rafe put the vial of serum back on the table. “Let me try it.” The curiosity emerged out of nowhere, but it was a strong urging, nevertheless.

Alex considered him. “It’s not a high like humans experience, you know.”

Rafe shook his head. “I figured that out for myself.”

“You did?” Alex seemed surprised.

“Sure. I’ve done my share of research into illegal drugs, mostly from the legal perspective, but there were some mind-bending facts in the reports and briefs. A high really isn’t your body getting high. It’s a removal of fears and worries and anxieties, which let the body relax completely. Everything slows down, while your brain melts under the influence. But this stuff—” and he flicked the bottle with his fingernail, “—speeds everything up, or it should if it’s supposed to counter the effects of the sedative. It’s not a real high, but it probably feels like it because your mind is loping along at Mach speed, so the world would seem to slow down.”

“I’m impressed,” Alex said.

Rafe grinned. “Maybe I can find whatever it is you’re looking for.”

Alex’s smile faded. “Perhaps,” he said.

“What are you looking for, anyway?” Rafe said. He picked up a syringe and stripped the plastic seal away.

“You really want to do this?” Alex asked.

“I really do. I want to find out what it’s like.”

Alex shook his head. “I don’t know….”

“C’mon, doc,” Rafe replied. “Didn’t you just complain that research victims are impossible to find? I’m volunteering.”

Alex stood unmoving, clearly torn by the offer and the inherent risks. “Aren’t you supposed to be responsible and law-abiding?”

“That’s just my day job,” Rafe replied impatiently. “I absolve you in advance for anything that happens.”

“That doesn’t remove the danger,” Alex said slowly, picking up the bottle. “If I incapacitate their solicitor, Brody and Veris will kill me.”

Rafe laughed. “Take a deep breath and jump. Uncertainty is what life is all about. Besides, you would never have used yourself as a guinea pig if you thought the risks were too high.” He held out his arm. “Stick me, doc.”

Alex drew some of the liquid into the syringe, measuring carefully. “This is going to feel a bit weird,” he warned as he slid the syringe into Rafe’s vein. He didn’t swab first. There was no point, for they were immune to any infection.

The serum felt cold, which was amazing considering the body temperature vampires maintained…or failed to maintain, in truth. Rafe could feel it coursing up his arm and drew in a sharp breath. His heart skittered and fear touched him.

Alex picked up his hand. “Come with me.” He led Rafe through to a large bedroom suite and waved toward the big bed. “It’s probably better you lie down now, than fall down later.”

“Really?” Rafe climbed onto the perfectly-made bed and settled the pillows under his head. His fingers were tingling. “I think I feel…something.”

“It works fast,” Alex agreed. He stood at the end of the bed and glanced at his watch.

“What should I look for while I’m in this?” Rafe asked.

Alex shook his head. “You’ll be tempted to chase memories. It will seem very important that you catch up with a memory you can’t recall. It will feel…exciting. But I think that’s a dead-end. You just sink down into yourself, if you do. Let it go and instead reach out around you. Listen to the world. Study it. See where that takes you.”

* * * * *

Rafe was perfectly aware of his surroundings. More than aware—everything seemed bright and clear and sharply outlined. Alex was sitting on a chair by the bed, a tablet in his hands, watching and working on the screen. Alex himself was surrounded by an aura that made him glow.

From somewhere inside him, an insistent thought drew his attention. His heart skittered as he reached for it. What was the thing he was supposed to remember? It felt very old, but very significant. And how weird was it that he, a vampire, should have forgotten anything?

Then he did remember something, although this memory didn’t have any of the power of the thing he had forgotten. He recalled Alex saying not to chase the memory.

He thought about it for a while, and even though the forgotten memory was enticing, he decided that he would do what Alex said. He couldn’t think why he might do that instead, but when he looked at Alex, he saw that he was watching him.

“Pretty thoughts,” he said…or thought he said.

“Leave them be,” Alex said gently. His voice boomed and echoed.

Rafe let them be. Instead he looked at Alex, enjoying the play of his flesh against the darkness of his beard. The very blue eyes— not as blue as Veris’, but crystalline. Beautiful.

The light from the setting sun was orange and red in the window behind Alex, and caught his attention. Rafe examined it with placid curiosity. Something tugged at his chest, not hard or painfully, but like a shoe being removed. It…detached.

He found himself outside the window. The sun was sizzling its last moments, dipping down toward the Pacific. Then it would be his time.

Rafe put his back to the sun, but he didn’t turn. He thought about the hills behind him and then he was looking at them. They looked puny from up here. For the first time he realized he was very high up. It didn’t worry him.

He looked beyond the hills, over flat landscape, then more wrinkled. Down below he could sense that life teamed, millions of lives over years and decades, moving across and over the top of themselves, ghosts to each other. The land bulged with life. It fizzed in his veins, and he laughed out loud at the sheer joy of it.

Far ahead, he sensed an even thicker manifesting of life. Centuries of it, scrambling all over the top of each other. He was a part of that landscape. New York was far ahead, beckoning.

But there was a tugging to his left, drawing his attention and he let New York go. He thought about following that tugging and then he was, moving more and more swiftly over the land. Ahead was a lake. One of the lakes. Large, glittery in the pearlescent light that bathed everything. Then he could see a great city. Chicago?

He was descending, for the buildings were becoming clearer. They were still far away, but the tugging was coming from farther away, ahead of the city. He looked ahead and saw more buildings, more cities and towns.

Then one caught his eye, for it was dotted with two lakes, almost like eyes, and he knew that was the place. He reached for it and something brushed past him, snarling his progress, as darkness blinked in. Then there was light. Normal light….

* * * * *

…and a normal looking street, except that it was covered in glittering hoar frost. The trees stood white and lacy, the street glowed milky white, for the light seeping through the low, heavy clouds was filtered, not nearly as harsh as Los Angeles in June.

He could feel the cold on his skin, even though when he tried to look down at himself, he couldn’t do it. His gaze instead moved out and around, taking in the street. Far ahead, at the top of the street, there was a domed building that stood as white as the trees. It seemed to reach up into the clouds themselves.

There was very little traffic on the street. It was early morning, although Rafe didn’t know how he knew that.

Just ahead, on the intersection, was a building that was all glass at the front, rising through four stories. The glass was clear of frost and he could see people climbing the stairs inside.

There were people walking around on the street, hurrying up the sidewalks, bundled up in coats and boots and gloves.

And there were two people on the sidewalk next to him. They had their arms around each other. The man had his back to Rafe, but it was the woman that Rafe could not turn his attention away from.

She was very young, barely into her early twenties, but she was quite beautiful in a way that matched the frosted surroundings. She was staring up at the man with deep puzzlement. “Why are we here?” she demanded.

“I don’t know…” the man replied slowly, but just then there was a shout from across the street.

“Arlene! What the fuck!”

Another man, on the other side of the street, was standing with his hands on his hips, glaring at the pair. His face was red with sudden anger, the sort of anger that some men seemed to switch on a dozen times a day— or perhaps they never switched it off. The anger bubbled below ground their entire lives, driving their fury, their hatred and bigotry, their sense of entitlement and their cruelty. He was in his late twenties or early thirties, this one.

At the man’s scream, the woman in the other man’s arms gasped. “Peter!” She moved hesitantly toward the man on the other side. “Oh, God, Peter,” she breathed and looked back at the first man. “How can we be here?” she demanded, fear making her voice weightless.

“Rafe!” The call came from behind him. Rafe ignored it. He wanted to see this play out. “Rafe, come on, come back, wherever you are.”

Rafe knew that voice. He watched the woman stagger back into the other man’s arms, then he was being pulled, tugged, ripped backward, away and up, tumbling so that the land flashed and rolled.

He closed his eyes.

* * * * *

“Rafael! Look at me.”

Someone was tapping his cheek, and not lightly. The name came to him. Alex.

He opened his eyes and saw the room where he had laid down on the bed. He looked down. He was still lying on it, but the covers and the sheet had been tossed aside. So had the pillows. He was naked and lying on his side, almost completely curled into a ball.

It was daylight outside. Early morning light.

Alex was leaning over him. He had changed from the casual trousers he had been wearing when Rafe arrived. Now he wore jeans, that hugged his hips and made his legs seem very long indeed, and a knitted Henley shirt with a collar and long sleeves. He straightened up as Rafe focused on him. “Welcome back.”

“How long was I gone?” Rafe stretched out carefully, exploring his body for kinks or aches as he straightened, but he felt great.

“You were out for fourteen hours.”

“Out?” Rafe asked. He sat up.

“It looked like you were unconscious, but your heart rate was far too high. Speaking of which…” Alex turned and picked up something from the bedside table and held it out. It was a blood bag. “I owe you and you are probably ravenous. Your heart has been working the entire time.”

As soon as Rafe saw the blood, his incisors descended. He swallowed and reached for the bag, the keening building in him like a whirling tornado.

“I’ll wait outside,” Alex said.

“Stay. It doesn’t bother me,” Rafe said. He bit into the bag and tore the corner open. He fed hungrily, aware that Alex had moved back to his chair and was observing again. But for Rafe, feeding in the presence of others was a common thing. He had learned long ago to stifle the instincts that said any vampire nearby was a threat to his supply.

The bag was very nearly empty when he felt the urges diminish and he carefully put it back on the tray with a sigh and retracted his incisors. “Exactly what I needed, thank you.”

Alex inclined his head. “You’re a welcome guest in my home. It was only fitting I take care of your every need.” He put the tablet aside and got back onto his feet.

“Did you get your observations, doctor?”

“Yes, I did. Did you find the experience worthwhile?” Alex picked up the tray and moved it onto the tall bureau. The blood was only room temperature, so from that far away, the scent would not bother either of them.

Then Alex turned back to the bed and Rafe watched him move. He was very graceful for such a tall man. When he stopped next to him, Rafe’s heart gave a little tick. He looked up at him. “Who took my clothes off?” he asked curiously.

“I did. You would have torn them off if I had not, and I do not think you would fit my clothes. I didn’t want to send you home in a bathrobe.”

“Thank you for that,” Rafe said sincerely. He stretched again and felt the movement of muscles beneath his flesh. Everything seemed delightful to him, from the touch of the morning breeze on his skin, to the feel of the cotton sheets beneath him. “I feel so good.”

“Good,” Alex repeated, and thrust his hand into Rafe’s hair and held his head steady while he leaned down and kissed him.

Immediately, Rafe could feel his body grow taut and heavy with tension and delightful pleasure, as slow as the serum he had watched moving in the bottle. His heart started to beat as Alex thrust his tongue deep into his mouth.

I will seduce you, he had said, and was making good on his promise.

Alex’s hand cupped his thigh, just above the knee, then slid gently up along the muscle, his thumb stroking in feather-soft touches. It was an electrifying sensation and Rafael groaned into his mouth. Not for a moment did he think about trying to direct him, like he might have with anyone else. It had been a long while since he had been seduced instead of being the initiator, so he let it happen and reveled in the feelings and the tingling pleasure it invoked.

His thighs were already apart and now his cock stiffened in almost painful anticipation. His balls were heavy with tension.

Alex let his mouth go. “Move over,” he said curtly, his hand falling away, too.

As Rafe moved over to the other side of the bed, Alex swiftly undressed, dropping his clothes to the floor. Under the clothing, Alex had a body that looked strong. There was muscle there, just not an overabundance of it like Veris had. His thighs were heavy with it, and an image flashed through Rafe’s mind of Alex on horseback, a keffiyeh—the Arab head cloth—and white robes whipping out behind him as he galloped across the reg, the flat stony plains.

Alex didn’t sit or sprawl on the bed the way Rafe had expected he would. Instead, he kneeled on it. His cock was rising, stiffening and was a pleasing sight—nicely thick and long. Surprisingly, he was circumcised. The flare of the head of his cock was thick, too.

Rafe’s heart picked up a bit faster. He was aroused as hell and had to fight the impulse to reach for him.

Alex pushed on his shoulder, making him lie down. He kissed him again, briefly, then trailed his lips over his chin and down to his nipples, which he bit gently and tugged. It was a surprisingly sensation and made Rafe hiss.

He didn’t linger there. His lips moved down over his stomach, making his muscles quiver, then paused over his cock. Rafe could see Alex was watching his cock twitch in anticipation, and there was a small smile on his lips.

He gripped the shaft and Rafe groaned again. He caught his breath and said what had to be said; “Don’t do anything you don’t want to—” and sucked in his breath in a gasp as Alex’s mouth closed over his cock, his sentence unfinished and forgotten. He gripped the edge of the bed, his fingers pressing into the mattress, as Alex worked on him. He knew what he was doing, even though for him, this was the first time to give this particular pleasure instead of receiving it.

Rafe tried to watch what he was doing, but the building excitement was too much. He laid back and his eyes drifted closed. His hips gave little thrusts that he tried to quench, but couldn’t.

At the very last second, when he could feel the swirl in his balls and the tightening in his scrotum that heralded the most amazing orgasm, Alex halted and straightened. There was a smile on his face.

“Gods, you…!” Rafe groaned.

“Indeed,” Alex agreed. His voice was thick. “The drawer there.” He nodded toward the nightstand on that side of the bed.

Rafe slid the drawer open and wasn’t surprised to find a tube of lubricant there. He tossed it to Alex, who caught it one handed and unscrewed the lid.

Rafe’s heart had been slowing. Recovering. Now it leapt again as he realized what Alex intended.

Alex took a grip on his own cock and spread the lubricant along its length. It was an intriguing sight, watching him stroke himself. “Don’t stop,” Rafe whispered.

Alex glanced at him. “You like watching, hmm?” His hand kept sliding up and down.

“I like everything about you.”

Alex’s smile was warm. “Then you’ll like what happens next.”

I know I will. Rafe didn’t voice the thought aloud.

Alex pulled him around on the mattress, so his hips were at the edge of the bed. He bent and picked up one of the discarded pillows, and pushed it under his hips.

“For someone who has never fucked a man before, Alex, you’re a complete natural. Anyone would think you knew what you were doing.”

“I’ve been researching,” Alex said, and gave a small smile. “Porn is very educational.”

“And arousing.”

“That, too,” Alex agreed easily, with not even a touch of embarrassment. He spread Rafe’s knees and ran his hands down his inner thighs. “In truth, I’m following my instincts. This all just seems….right.”

“It is very right,” Rafe agreed. Alex was stroking his fingers over his engorged cock and his attention returned to his towering orgasm that sat in the pit of his stomach, waiting. His body was throbbing with the need to come. “So fuck me,” he said, “and hurry.”

Alex gripped his cock and pushed it up against Rafe’s cheeks, sliding up against the muscle. The sensation was delightful and Rafe held his breath. It was this part of lovemaking that he liked, that he couldn’t get from a woman, although there were aspects of sex with a woman that were just as pleasing and unique.

He made himself relax as Alex pushed inside him and paused, waiting for him to adjust. The pause let Rafe relax even more. Alex knew what he was doing. Whether it was past experience with a woman, or his research, it didn’t matter. Rafe could trust that he wouldn’t hurt him.

Alex slid fully inside and paused. He cleared his throat. “It’s not so different.”

“Not so much,” Rafe agreed hoarsely.

“But it is different. Very nice…but different.” He withdrew slowly and pushed steadily back in again and Rafe groaned.

Alex began to thrust in earnest, slowly at first, but without pause. A small furrow appeared between his brows as his focus turned inward to his own pleasure. “So tight,” he muttered.

He picked up Rafe’s hand and curled his fingers around his own cock. “I lack the finesse right now,” he said unevenly.

“I have no doubt.” Rafe’s voice was just as broken. His breath was uneven and hurried. He gripped his cock and stroked it, as Alex thrust in quick, hard little movements, and watched Alex’s climax bloom and take him. The tendons on his neck strained and his hips worked hard, driving him in deeper and faster.

Just the sight of Alex climaxing was enough to push Rafe over the edge. He came with a hoarse, low cry, his cum pooling on his stomach.

They both grew still and silent except for their breathing, which was loud and harsh.

Rafe was still hard and throbbing. “More,” he said hoarsely. “I need more.”

Alex withdrew from him. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

“Then you liked it. Good.”

Alex gave him a small smile. “I liked it with you. Any other man…I would have to think about it long and hard.”

Rafe rolled over and onto his feet on the floor, hiding the silly smile that wouldn’t quit. It was stupid how warm and sentimental Alex’s comment made him feel. “Then let’s have more,” he declared.

Chapter Six

Alex gripped the other side of the kitchen counter, leaning over it as Rafe held his hips from behind. His heart was hurrying along, harder and faster than he had ever experienced before. All for this moment.

“I’ll be gentle,” Rafe murmured.

“No,” Alex said shortly. “Just go slow. I can take it.”

“Horny bugger.”

“Only with you and not even then, if you don’t hurry up.”

“I’m salivating. Shut up.” The blunt probe that was Rafe’s cock pressed up against him, and Alex found he was pushing back with his hips, welcoming him. Rafe pushed inside, spreading him and Alex caught his breath. This was where it was different. This sort of possession wasn’t possible with a woman, not even with a strap on dildo, which was a soulless alternative that had never appealed to him. He couldn’t say why this was so good, but even before Rafe was fully inside him, Alex already knew that this was something he was going to repeat. The sense of rightness had persevered, even as Rafe had brought him out to the kitchen and bent him over the counter, for support, this first time.

There was no coyness, no hesitation. No doubts.

Rafe paused, letting the muscle adjust and relax, then pushed deeper, still. Alex could feel him inside. The sense of fullness was astonishing…and good.

“Man, you are going to finish me off way too quickly,” Rafe muttered. He slid out once more, then pushed back in, in the slowest thrust Alex had ever experienced. But this time, the barrier to entry wasn’t there. Rafe slid home. He was slick and warm, for his heart had been racing since long before Alex had kissed him and so his body heat had risen.

Alex groaned. “Faster,” he demanded.

“Maybe.”

“I’ll heal, damn it. Faster.” He clenched the counter harder. His cock was pounding, even though it was not receiving any direct stimulation. With a little bit more encouragement, he thought he might actually climax, just from what Rafe was doing to him. He hissed in pleasure as Rafe’s speed picked up infinitesimally and his balls throbbed.

This was so much better than he had thought it might be, even after watching hours of porn and researching endlessly on the net. How it felt couldn’t be explained in video and wasn’t explained anywhere else. Coyness? He didn’t care. Now he had discovered how good it was to fuck a man—to fuck Rafe, to be precise—he intended to do it often.

Alex could feel Rafe’s hips shifting as his pleasure rose. His grip on Alex’s hips tightened and his breath shortened. “Damn…” he muttered and began to thrust in earnest; heavy, hard strokes that made Alex’s own climax leap upward, through his body from his toes. He could feel himself clamping around Rafe as the climax whooshed through him, and groaned his pleasure.

Rafe’s fingers dug into his hips and he gave a choked sound as he came. Alex could feel that, too, and it wasn’t disgusting or alien. It had the same sensation of rightness.

Rafe fell against his back, breathing heavily. He was still buried inside him. “Gods above!” he breathed.

“Yes,” Alex agreed heartily.

Rafe pulled out of him and the empty sensation was a novel one, but Rafe gave him no time to explore the feeling, for he pulled him back up onto his feet and turned him around to face him. His hand curled around Alex’s neck, and his body pressed up against him. He was almost glowing with heat.

He looked into Alex’s eyes. “I think you might be a habit I could pick up far too easily.” His own black eyes were frank. Honest.

Alex shrugged a bit. “I might be open to a return round,” he said indifferently.

Rafe’s lips parted in surprise. Then he grinned. “Asshole. I thought you were serious, just for a second.”

“Then you aren’t as accustomed and casual about this as I thought.”

Rafe’s smile faded. “I don’t fuck men just for the sex, no,” he said slowly. “Nor women, come to that. I’ve had far fewer relationships with men than women, but that wasn’t by design. It just happened that way.” He hesitated. “I think you might be unique, though.”

“Oh? Why?”

Rafe cleared his throat. “I’m having a small family get-together tonight. My grand-daughter is in town for a couple of days. I like to catch up with family whenever they will sit still long enough to talk some. Why don’t you come?”

“And meet your family?” Alex asked quietly. “In what capacity?”

Rafe rolled his eyes, just a bit. “My lover, of course.” He kissed him gently.

* * * * *

Bruce started pawing at the front door and for a moment, Sydney thought he was asking to be taken for another walk, but they had only been back in the apartment for just over an hour.

Then the door chime sounded and she slowly hauled herself up from the sofa to answer it.

Alexander stood on the other side, urbane and sophisticated in a slim-line tailored suit. “I’m not disturbing you, am I?” he asked.

“No, not at all. I’m trying to read, but it’s not fun, so mostly, I’m bored out of my brain. Come in.” She was very glad to see him and it wasn’t anything to do with being bored—or very little, anyway.

Alex stepped in and greeted Bruce by ruffling his neck hair and scratching behind his ears. Bruce responded by drooling even more, his mouth hanging open happily.

Alex turned to her. “I came to see how you’re doing.”

“To check up on me,” she interpreted.

“I am your family doctor now.” He was looking into her eyes, but with medical disinterest and nothing else.

“I’m absolutely fine for someone who had their car totaled three days ago. Really, Alex. I’m sleeping, I’m waking, I’m eating like a horse and Bruce is keeping me on my feet on a regular basis.”

Alex gave her a small smile. “That’s good to hear. How is the rib?”

“Painful if I stretch the wrong way or bend the wrong way, so I try not to do either very much.”

“That’s about the only treatment there is,” he said. “Time and rest.” He glanced at his watch.

“Hot date, doctor?” Sydney teased him. Alex was very hard to rattle or tease, she had learned over the last year. He took everything so seriously. But at her question, he looked startled. It was a momentary flash and then it was gone, but it was definitely there.

Sydney bit her lip. “You do have a date?” Something inside her squeezed.

“No, no, I’m just having dinner with a friend…and his family,” Alex added.

The pressure in her chest relaxed abruptly and she was able to smile. “I’m sorry, it’s none of my business. Please forget I asked.”

Alex smiled at her and it seemed to her the expression was forced. “Already forgotten.” He tapped his watch. “But I really do have to go. I just wanted to check on you and make sure you and Bruce weren’t killing each other from being boxed in for days on end.”

“Bruce would never do that,” Sydney said. “But I might.”

Alex’s smile this time was natural and unforced. “You in jail would help Brody’s case along nicely.”

This time, Sydney’s mouth parted in surprise, then she laughed. “You’re teasing. I didn’t think you knew how.”

Alex opened the door again and glanced back at her. “I’m learning a great many new things these days.”

Once the door shut behind him, the apartment fell silent again. Sydney walked thoughtfully over to the easy chair she had been living in for the last three days, and considered the closed door.

Alex really had been surprised about the date question. He had covered up expertly, but Sydney was trained to see chinks and vulnerabilities in a subject. But he was meeting a friend. A male friend.

He could be lying about where he was going and that was absolutely his privilege. She had been far too direct and nosy, after all. Either he was lying, or the date was with a man.

Her heart gave a little extra-heavy beat as she considered the idea of Alexander Karim having a date with either a man or a woman. A date with anyone other than her. She didn’t like the way it made her feel.

She had never had any intention of accepting a date with him. In fact, his two-year-long campaign of emails and weekly phone calls, to try to talk her into a date, had become just another thread in the fabric of her life. Or so she thought.

But now she was feeling…what was she feeling? She examined it, trying to look at her emotions honestly. Was she really…could she be jealous?

Maybe. Perhaps. After all, Alex had been devoted to her and to winning her agreement to go to dinner with him for a long time. And now….

Now he was moving on.

With a start, she realized that he hadn’t touched her. Not once. But when he had been watching over her, he had kissed her cheek and her forehead (she could still recall the touch of his lips), and he had called her Sydney.

Bruce put his paws on the arm of the chair and lifted himself up so that he was looking directly at her. He whined, his head tilted, as if he was worrying about her and asking if she was okay.

Sydney put her arms around his thick neck and buried her hot face in his fur. “I’m fine,” she said thickly. “I’m okay.”

But it wasn’t okay at all.

She patted Bruce and let him drop down to the rug once more and he trotted away, his tags jingling reassuringly.

Sydney tucked her feet under her and reached for the Edith Wharton book on the table next to her. The Age of Innocence was an old favorite, so she didn’t have to try too hard to read it, but after a few lines, she realized that she was staring at the book sightlessly, her mind miles away.

Her mind, in fact, was wheeling around the idea that Alex’s date was a man. If he hadn’t lied about where he was going tonight. But that was irrelevant. In Sydney’s mind, he was going out with a man, and the image of Alex and the faceless other man together, their bodies touching, their lips…it took her breath away and not in a bad way.

As her thoughts grew progressively more gutter-quality, Sydney swallowed and deliberately resettled the book on her lap and tried to wrest her thoughts back to 1870s’ New York and unrequited love. But the images kept popping back into her mind: Hot, hard bodies, working against each other in interesting ways.

Alex and men…it completely changed the way she had thought about him up until now. Added to everything she knew about him, it…well, it enhanced him. But she was never going to get a chance to explore that facet of him. He had moved on.

With a sigh, she slammed the book shut and tossed it onto the sofa, startling Bruce.

The night was going to be even longer, now.

* * * * *

Rafe’s granddaughter was a middle-aged matron, with two of her adult children accompanying her, a son with long hair and tattoos, and a remarkably good looking daughter who spent a lot of time working on her cellphone. Alex thought both of them were average for the current generation of young adults. They would be just as uninterested in him as he was in them. It took a decade or two of life experience as an adult before humans started to become interesting—such as their mother.

There was also the woman, Edwina, who was a relative of some kind that Alexander was yet to unravel, but worked as a type of housekeeper for Rafe, running the big house.

Also at the dinner table was a frail man in his eighties.

“My son, Charles,” Rafe had told Alex. “Charlie, this is Doctor Alexander Karim, a very special friend of mine.”

Charlie stuck out his hand without hesitation, his gaze flickering over Alex and assessing. “It’s very good to meet you,” he said and his voice held solid conviction. “Dad has been alone for far too long.”

Alex focused on the word ‘Dad’. It was disconcerting hearing a man in the last years of his life refer to Rafael, who looked like he was in his mid-thirties, as his father. Even Philomena looked old enough to be Rafe’s mother.

Rafe raised a brow. “You’ll get used to it,” he said. “Out among humans, Charlie is my grandfather, and Philomena is my mother, unless one of her siblings is around, in which case, they all become aunts and uncles. The grand-children are getting old enough now that they’re ready to start calling me a brother in public. But here in this house, we remember who we really are to each other.”

“I like it,” Alex said, and meant it.

Charlie looked at his father. “I thought you were tying up loose ends, getting ready to shut things down?”

“I didn’t plan on this,” Rafael said. “And besides, it’s still too early to make any final decisions, yet.”

“That’s fine by me,” Charlie said heartily. “The longer you put it off, the better. So, let’s eat. I get your share, okay?”

“Glutton,” Rafe told him.

They all sat at the dinner table and Alex braced himself to practice the usual tactics he employed when forced to “dine” in public—cutting up food and moving it around on the plate, discarding it when no one was looking, plus even more sleight of hand tricks he had developed over the long years.

But when dinner was served, no plate was put in front of him or Rafe. Instead, Edwina, who was serving, placed a glass with an inch of red wine in front of both of them. “It’s bad luck to toast with water,” she murmured to Alex and rested a hand on his shoulder, before moving on to Charlie sitting next to him and placing a dinner plate in front of him, steaming with beef and vegetables.

“You’re among friends here,” Philomena added.

Alex let out his breath, relaxing. His status as a vampire and as Rafe’s lover had been accepted completely and comprehensively.

The conversation around the table during the meal was stimulating and fast-paced. The long-haired son of Philomena, whose name was Joshua, caught Alex by surprise when he quoted Lloyd George correctly and argued politics with as much insight as a Capitol Hill resident. Joshua was an attorney working in a Pittsburgh for a public defender’s office. He tapped the tattoos on his arms with a grin. “My clients relax more when I look like them. For court, I tie my hair back and put on a suit, so the ink doesn’t show.” He shrugged. “Best of both worlds.” He glanced at his sister. “Time to unhook, darling Angeline.”

Angeline looked up from her cellphone and blushed and put it face-down on the table. “I’m so sorry,” she said, apologizing to the whole table. “I’m negotiating a deal for distribution through Walmart. I’m a bit distracted.”

“Distribution of what?” Alex asked, startled.

“Angeline has developed a natural beauty product line. It’s doing very well,” Philomena said proudly.

“Twelve million in gross product last year,” Angeline said, and leaned forward. “But if I can get into Walmart, then women everywhere will have access to beauty products that don’t destroy your immune system and cause rampant inflammation.”

“Here we go,” Joshua said with a roll of his eyes.

“Did you know that your skin is an organ and it absorbs everything you put on it?” Angeline continued. “Well, not you two, of course, but everyone else. The chemicals in retail beauty products should be outlawed! Petroleum, carcinogens, acids that strip stomach lining, and chemicals that kill your natural flora dead, dead, dead!”

Alex blinked at her passion and fury.

“Alex is a medical doctor, Angie,” Rafe said mildly. “I think he probably knows better than you what the gunk does.”

“Doctors!” Angeline said with a sniff. “They’re completely ignorant about the importance of gut health.”

“Angie…” Philomena said warningly, her voice low.

“I happen to agree with you,” Alex told Angeline, who smiled. “The average medical doctor, even most specialists that work outside the endocrine system know next to nothing about the role nutrition has on health. When I was doing my medical degree, I had a single week of food and nutrition training. Doctors focus on treating symptoms and using known treatments for common diseases, and they rely on specialists in the field to provide the knowledge for more complicated diagnosis and treatment. That’s a large part of the reason I began my own research laboratory, funded independently so politics doesn’t influence research.”

Angeline’s smile was even warmer. “We must talk more later,” she said.

“If you like,” Alex told her. “But I’m sure there are areas we disagree on and I feel strongly about some of them, too.”

“Angie loves a good debate,” Charlie said. “That won’t deter her in the slightest.

Philomena was the hardest to work out. Alex couldn’t get a read on her straight away because she didn’t speak a lot. Her two children and Charlie supplied most of the chatter, bantering back and forth, arguing over current issues, politics, and even touching on philosophy.

Charlie had started his own alternative press in the 1960s and it had grown and become one of the largest publishing houses on the west coast. He had retired five years ago, but his mind was still sharp.

Then, in a rare lull, while Edwina and Joshua cleared the table and brought dessert plates, Philomena sipped her wine and put the glass down. “Tell me, Doctor Karim, did you come out of the Middle East during the Crusades, or did you travel west later on?”

Startled, Alex glanced at Rafe for help.

Rafe grinned. “She knows prying is rude, but Philomena is a history professor at UCLA Berkeley, and that explains her table manners. It doesn’t forgive them, however.”

“I see,” Alex said slowly.

“I do apologize for the on-point question,” Philomena said. “But my area of expertise is the Arabic nations during the Crusades. Are you the same Alexander Karim who wrote Warrior Wives?”

Alex said cautiously; “That is my book, yes.”

Philomena sat back with a gleam in her eyes. “No wonder your research was so accurate. You researched on ground zero. How lucky you are!”

Alex tried not to smile. “I suppose that is one way to look at it.”

“Really?” Edwina said, sitting down in front of a Black Forrest cake wielding a big knife. “You are…you were, I mean, a part of Saladin’s domains?

“Two crusades earlier,” Alex said. “I was born into the Fatimid kingdom, but I converted to Christianity when I turned twenty-five. My family cast me out, of course.”

There was a small silence around the table. Everyone was looking at him.

“You worked for the Crusaders, when they arrived, I imagine,” Philomena said.

Alex nodded. It felt a little surreal to be sitting at the dining table of a family of humans who barely knew him, discussing his personal history. Even with Brody and Veris and Taylor, discussions about past lives were rare, and usually twined around their time-travelling abilities, that Veris was still trying to figure out using science.

“It must have been hard, to have a foot in both worlds like that,” Angeline said. “Even harder, these days.”

“You’re still Christian?” Joshua asked. “You’ve maintained your faith all that time?”

“What he means,” Philomena said hastily, “is that it’s unusual for a vampire to maintain a faith of any sort. The Christian church condemns you as the damned, the Muslims consider vampire mythology to be a western device to spread lies and propaganda and most Muslim countries ban the stories. Their reception of the real thing would undoubtedly be violent. Buddha would be appalled at the blood drinking, although Shiva would probably applaud it even as he was sweeping vampires from the land.” She laughed lightly. “Maintaining your belief in God and following the precepts for the centuries you have takes an extraordinary faith.”

“My faith has been threadbare for a year or more now,” Alex said, and was surprised at his own frankness. “Perhaps the odds against me finally made themselves felt.”

“I’m sure you’ll find it again,” Edwina said softly. “Don’t give up hope.”

“Our resident priest,” Rafe explained. “She’ll bring you back to the fold if anyone can.”

Alex had grown inured to the surprises Rafe’s family had doled out this evening. His expectations had been turned on their head, over and over, so now all he could do was nod in acknowledgement. “You’ll have your work cut out for you,” he told Edwina. “My path has become very dark and bleak. Although lately, there has been a glimmer of light.” He couldn’t help but glance at Rafe.

The table was silent again as they all looked at him, and Alex realized that he was handing out surprises of his own, just by speaking the truth.

“That’s so sweet,” Angeline said.

It was Charlie who rolled his eyes again. “Romantic claptrap!” he declared. “She’ll have you in love and married tomorrow.”

Everyone laughed and the moment ended, but under the table, Rafe’s hand rested on Alex’s knee and squeezed gently.

Alex sat back, listening to the talk as it moved on, wrestling with the flood of thoughts and feelings that were rushing through him. He watched everyone talking and laughing and was struck hard by how much of a real family this was, even though the nominal head of it was a vampire and completely unrelated by blood. And for a moment, he felt a stab of jealousy, hot and heavy in his gut.

He recalled a moment from a few years ago, sitting around Veris and Brody’s backyard, celebrating Marit’s third birthday. That was when this dark, bleak midnight of the soul had begun. He had watched Brody and Taylor and Veris together, with their daughter, and finally named the emptiness that had been eating away his heart and mind for a long, long time.

He had told them, spitting it out like a confession; “I want to learn how you do it.”

Brody snorted. “You’ll have to cut Taylor open if you want that secret. We don’t know how she does it. She just does.”

Veris’ response had been more thoughtful. “After witnessing the horrors of our last flip back in time, you really want to risk it yourself?”

But Alex hadn’t cared about the risks of time travel. Not then. “I understand the consequences. I want to learn how.” Later on, when Brody had told him about the complications the three of them had faced in Constantinople, he had slowly begun to understand the dangers of playing with time. But then, on that warm December night, all he could focus on was the need to have what Brody, Veris and Taylor shared.

“You want children that badly, mo chara?” Brody had asked.

“It’s not just children,” Alex said. “If it were, I could find a wife and adopt dozens of children so badly in need of love and care, the matter would be solved inside months.” He waved a hand in dismissal. “Yes, I would like my own children. There is a difference, but the difference is infinitesimal and beyond dispute, as you well know, Brody.”

Brody inclined his head.

Alexander sighed. “I want to dip back into the past again. To sample it.”

“You have your memories for that,” Veris said sharply. “They’re virtually perfect.”

“They’re not the same as being there.”

“Being there will change them,” Veris replied. “Einstein’s theory of relativity doesn’t go on a holiday just because you’ve lived through it once already. You go back there, you stand a real chance of fucking up your own future.” He sat up and forward. “We were dumb lucky. Maybe not—Taylor held us together when Brody and I were going to walk away from each other and screw up all our futures, and our child into the bargain, because we were playing out our lives all over again.” He shook his head. “It’s not worth it, Alex.”

“Marit isn’t worth it? Taylor isn’t worth it?” Alexander asked softly. “You got both of them because of it.”

That had halted the discussion. That, and the arrival of Tira, the queen, who had done her level best to destroy their lives. But Alex had not forgotten, and a handful of hours later, he had found the precise answer when he had witnessed Brody, Veris and Taylor making love. He had slipped out discreetly as soon as he realized they had forgotten he was there, but he had spent a long night in an adjoining bedroom, wracked with something like envy and a certain despair, because he knew he would never have what they had.

Alex looked around at Rafe’s family, with dawning realization. This was the family he didn’t have. This was what he wanted—full acceptance…and love. But it wasn’t his family, either.

And where did Sydney fit into his life now? Because try as he might, he couldn’t imagine her not being in it somehow. If only she would allow it. Was that a fool’s errand that had run its course?

For a bleak moment, Alex looked over the landscape of his life and realized he was moving farther and farther into uncharted terrain. Nothing seemed simple or obvious anymore. Nothing was certain, not even his own mind.

Chapter Seven

When Alex showed up the next day, Sydney was genuinely surprised. She stepped back from the door, trying to absorb that he was here at all, and trying hard to ignore the wildly erotic images that leapt into her mind, of him with the faceless man. The images had followed her into her sleep last night and her dreams had been heated and explicit.

Alex raised a brow. “You’re going somewhere?” he asked.

“I am?” she asked, confused.

“You’re wearing a suit.”

She glanced down at the trousers. “I’m going in to check messages and mail. Clear my in-tray.”

“You’re not going to work,” Alex said. He stepped into the apartment and shut the door behind him with a firm push. It wasn’t quite a slam. Then he turned back to face her again, and this time she could see he was pissed.

“I’m just going in for a while,” she said, although spoken aloud, the justification seemed very weak. “I’ll take it easy.”

“Even for a while, you’ll delay your recovering,” Alex said. “You need rest. It’s only been four days and you had a major concussion. You can’t stress yourself like this.”

“I’m going crazy in this apartment with no one but Bruce drooling on me!”

“I’ll buy you a TV and a DVD player,” Alex said flatly. “I’ll even take you shopping for more books, if it will keep you away from the high stress environment you call your job.”

“I don’t want to read anymore. That’s driving me crazy, too,” she replied, and it was true. All the books she had picked up in the last twenty-four hours had been highly suggestive, the plot lines almost mocking her with their thwarted lovers, lovers’ triangles, tragedies and more. “And I don’t want to sit on that sofa for a moment more. I’m getting bedsores!”

Alex’s glanced flickered toward her hips and back and she realized that he had been looking at her ass, what he could see of it. It was the first time she ever remembered Alex showing any overt interest in her body and confused, she bit her lip. “I have to move, Alex. Surely you can understand that? An hour, tops. Then I’ll come home and rest.”

Alex whirled his key ring around on his forefinger, thinking. “One hour,” he said firmly. “But, I drive you there and back. And I buy you a DVD player and a TV on the way home. Anything that will keep you occupied.”

“Okay, you can drive me to work, but you are not buying me a TV and a player,” she said, just as firmly. “If I must stay here, I’ll figure out another way to kill time.”

Alex nodded. “Deal. Why don’t you finish getting ready, and I’ll take Bruce out for a walk. He’s looking at me hopefully.” He reached out for the lead on the hat rack and Bruce leapt off the sofa and trotted over and sat down beside him.

Sydney sighed. “Traitor!” she told Bruce.

* * * * *

It only took five minutes of sitting in the passenger seat of Alex’s Jaguar for Sydney to know that driving to work in the rental car she had arranged to replace her Mustang would have been beyond her current abilities. The constantly moving cars made her gaze flicker from one spot to another and then there was the noise. She didn’t remember traffic being this noisy. But it was all making her wince and her head to thicken and hurt. If she’d had to concentrate on driving as well, it would have been impossible.

Alex drove well and seemed to have the reactions of a rally driver. It made the journey to the station all the more interesting, but she was very glad when he pulled the car up under the portico and the harsh sunlight was cut off. Even that had been adding to her discomfort.

She waved at Desmond, who was manning the reception desk inside the glass doors, then turned to face Alex, swiveling as far around on the seat as she could. “How did you know?” she asked, holding her fingers to her temple.

“A little thing called a medical degree,” Alex answered. He sat with his right hand resting on his knee, the car idling in neutral. He wasn’t in a hurry to kick her out.

“You specialized in internal medicine,” Sydney pointed out. “Last time I checked, the brain wasn’t part of that field.”

“I’ve had some experience with traumatic injuries,” he said softly.

“Why didn’t you just say that?” she asked.

“It wouldn’t have changed your mind.” He shrugged. “There’s very little that does.”

“You’re calling me stubborn?”

“If you are, it’s because of the profession you’re in,” Alex said, his voice still calm. “I don’t think you come by it naturally.”

“Thank you.”

He nodded his head. “You’re most welcome.”

“No, really. I mean thank you for all of it. For everything you’ve done for me.” She made herself stop before she spoke of the accident itself. It had been her imagination. Or he was lying. Either way, it wasn’t worth mentioning right now. “For helping me,” she finished lamely.

Alex gave her a small smile. “I wanted to.”

What that past tense? Sydney felt the same sinking sensation she had felt after Alex had left last night, and acted to neutralize it before it swamped her with black thoughts and bitter fears. She pulled herself over the center console and kissed him.

She heard his quick in-drawn breath as her lips met his. She didn’t let that stop her. She hadn’t really thought this through and as her lips met his, she thought she would simply give him a friendly, uncommitted kiss.

But the kiss lengthened all on its own. Her body tightened and pleasure spilled through her in a hot, bubbling rush. Every nerve end came on alert, fizzing and tingling. Sydney moaned softly as the tidal surge of desire washed through her.

Her moan acted like a catalyst. Alex hadn’t moved or reacted to her kiss, but when she moaned, he did. His hand cupped the back of her head and he pulled her more closely to him with the other.

It wasn’t her kissing Alex anymore. He was kissing her and it was hard and demanding and even better than she ever thought it would be. His tongue pressed inside her mouth and stroked her own. Someone moaned a second time. She didn’t know who, but the sound made her heart flutter. Her nipples were hard nubs brushing the inside of her shirt and the friction was delicious. She was very aware of Alex’s long-fingered hand pressing against her back. It was a heavy weight and rested low down, over her hip and it was moving restlessly, like he was stroking her.

She arched in reaction, her sizzling nerves leaping and that was when Alex ended the kiss. He kept her where she was, just far enough way so they could look at each other. His breath was fast and he was looked into her eyes. His expression was almost puzzled.

Sydney knew she was staring, too. Had that really happened? In all this long year of emails and calls and occasional stops-by in person, it had never occurred to her to think of Alex in a sexual way. Sex had been off her personal book for years now. Building a career in a male dominated field could be killed by a sexual scandal that other male officers could weather with their reputations more or less intact. So when Alex had begun to ask her out, Sydney hadn’t thought about it at all. Of course she would say no, and continue to say no as long as he asked. Even she wouldn’t have predicted she would spend two years saying no to him. But despite the length of time, she hadn’t changed her mind or weighed up the possibilities, or girlishly wondered what Alex would look like naked. It just hadn’t occurred to her to even speculate.

She swallowed, her heart slowly decreasing its beat. “I should have kissed you a long time ago,” she whispered. “It changes everything.”

Something flickered in Alex’s eyes, some emotion she couldn’t name because it disappeared too quickly. “Sydney—”

Tapping sounded on the window behind Sydney and she almost jumped. She had completely forgotten where they were. The station liked to keep the portico clear at all times. She scrambled back into her seat and lowered the windows.

Desmond grimaced. “Sorry to interrupt.”

“It’s fine. I’m getting out now. Alex will pull out of the portico straight away.” She reached for her satchel on the back seat.

Desmond rested his hand on the windowsill before she could raise the window again. He leaned down even further, so he could see into the car. “Doctor Alexander Karim?” he asked.

“That is me,” Alex said evenly.

“If you wouldn’t mind, doctor, could you step inside the station for a bit? We have a couple of questions for you.”

“Regarding what matter?” Alex asked and it was a justified question. If it was about Brody’s case, then they couldn’t talk to him without a lawyer being present.

“It’ll only take a minute or two,” Desmond said. “You can park your car in the lot next to the station.” He straightened up and headed for the desk while Sydney watched him, her mind whirling.

“Do you have any idea what this is about?” Alex asked quietly, putting the car into gear and driving back out from under the portico and flipping the indicator so he could turn right into the traffic.

“I have absolutely no clue,” Sydney told him truthfully. “They’re not stupid enough to try to talk to you about Brody’s case. After that, there are no possibilities, but I’ve been away from my desk for four days, too.”

Alex grinned. “If you’re trying to make me feel guilty for insisting you rest and heal, don’t hold your breath waiting. I don’t grovel even when it’s needed.”

“No, it wouldn’t suit you,” Sydney agreed. “Alex…”

“Later,” Alex said shortly. He whipped the car onto the road, then into the parking lot. It was still early morning and a few bays were empty. Alex slotted the car into the first he saw with precision steering and killed the engine. He looked at her. “We do need to talk,” he said, his voice low. “But now isn’t the time. Let’s find out what your colleagues want with me, first.”

“I can wait, I guess, if you agree we should talk. But I don’t like the sound of that. Wouldn’t you rather ask me out to dinner, instead? Your weekly request is overdue by three days.”

Alex smiled briefly, and got out of the car and shut the door behind him. Sydney had barely got the door open when he was suddenly there, holding out his hand. “It’s low. Watch your head.”

She eased herself out and upright, using his hand for balance. For a moment they stood close to each other and she looked up into his eyes. He was watching her with what she thought might be wariness, which didn’t make her any happier.

Her body was still zinging and pulsing from the power of the kiss. The impulse to kiss him again was making it surge all over again. She swallowed and told herself to look away and step back from him. That was the sensible thing.

But she couldn’t do it. Alex seemed to sway closer to her and her heart leapt. He wanted to kiss her, too! She could see the knowledge in his eyes. The need.

He didn’t take the kiss. Instead, he stepped backward like she should have done, and let her thread her way between the cars.

The door shut behind her and Sydney made herself keep walking, heading for the station.

Alex caught up with her as they moved through the opening in the chain link fence that gave easy access to the station. His hand touched her shoulder. “We will talk,” he said quietly.

Sydney sighed. “I think I already know what you’re going to say.”

* * * * *

Alex looked around the room. It was a battered, paint-chipped bare square, with linoleum tiles on the floor, green paint on the walls and a bank of one-way mirrors. The table and four chairs sitting in the middle matched in age and decrepitude. No wonder interrogation rooms on TV all looked the same. They were cast out of the same mold as this one.

Sydney turned to face the door. “What the hell, Clintock?” she demanded of the detective walking right behind them with a file in his hands. “An interview room?”

“This really will only take a few minutes,” Clintock said. He was a short, barrel chested man, but his suit fit very well, which was one cliché Alex hadn’t seen so far.

“If this is about Brody Gallagher’s case—”

“Actually, Lieutenant, it’s about your car accident.” Clintock waved to the table. “You can sit in on the conversation, Lieutenant, but you can’t answer for Doctor Karim.”

“I know the drill,” Sydney said, pulling out one of the metal chairs with an impatient tug. She yanked on the second and it squealed its way across the tiles. She patted the seat, looking at Alex. “Let’s get this over with, then, if it really is going to take a couple of minutes.”

Clintock sat opposite them and put the file in front of him. He didn’t open it. Instead he threaded his fingers together loosely and looked at Alex. “Where were you at eleven fifty p.m., four nights ago, doctor?”

Alex shrugged. “At a birthday party for a friend of mine. Ask her. Taylor Gallagher-Gerhardsson. Four-two-four, five-five-five, six-nine-eight-two.”

“Thank you,” Clintock said, taking down the name and number in a notepad he fished out of his pocket. “We will certainly ask your friend.” He didn’t point out that one of Taylor’s last names was the same as Brody’s. “You weren’t in the car with Lieutenant Stevens when the accident happened?” His voice was calm. There was no threat in it.

“No.”

“Or standing nearby and saw it happen?”

“No.”

Clintock nodded. “That makes my job a bit more difficult.”

“Sorry,” Alex said shortly.

Clintock opened the file and pulled out a handful of eight by ten glossy photographs and spread them across the table. “It makes your job more difficult, too,” Clintock added.

Sydney leaned over the photos and her breath sucked in sharply, but she said nothing.

Alex looked at the grainy images. It was black and white footage that still shots had been taking from, because all the photos looked nearly the same. They had been selected from a few seconds apart.

Sydney’s car had finished rolling and in the background, about twenty yards away, sat a Ford Explorer, with a big cattle grill protecting the hood. What was left of Sydney’s car was mangled, scraped wreckage, and through the crushed window frame, Sydney’s face showed as a white disk.

Alex stood next to the car.

He drew in his breath. “That’s not me,” he said quickly.

Sydney looked at him. Her eyes were big. Puzzled.

“It isn’t me,” he insisted. “I can’t explain it. But it’s not me. It’s someone who looks like me.” He tapped the grainy image of the man looking toward the Explorer. “He doesn’t have a beard.”

Sydney blew out her breath and looked at Clintock. “He can’t grow a full beard like he has now in four days. He’s had that beard for months. Besides, I saw him at the hospital just afterward and he had the beard then.”

Clintock nodded. “Sir, you’re a compromised witness in this,” he said to Sydney. “You got your head banged up and the docs tell me that sketchy memory is often an issue in cases like yours. So I can’t use you as corroboration. You do understand?”

Sydney nodded. ‘Of course. But check Alex’s alibi. I’m sure it will hold up.”

Clintock nodded and started to gather up the photos again, but Alex held out his hand. “Who is the other person? The one by the Explorer?”

Clintock grimaced. “I was hoping you’d be able to tell me, Doctor. That hood he’s wearing hides his face in every security cam and traffic cam feed we’ve been able to recover. It’s like the bastard knew which way not to look.” He stood up. “But if you don’t mind, doctor, could you stick around for a while? I’d like to check out your story.”

“Am I under arrest, detective?” Alex asked.

Clintock weighed it up. “I can’t stop you leaving,” he said finally. “But ask the Lieutenant how that would look to us, if you do.”

“Sorry, Alex,” Sydney said softly. “He’s right. Best to stay.”

Alex pulled out his phone. “I understand,” he said.

“Who are you calling?” Clintock asked curiously.

“My lawyer,” Alex said shortly.

Sydney got to her feet and rested her hand on his shoulder. “I’ll give you privacy,” she said and walked after Clintock. “Detective!” She caught the door as he held it open and began to talk even before the door closed. Her tone was harsh, almost angry. Alex wondered if she was aware of how much her voice, her posture and her attitude changed when she was on the job.

Rafe answered the call without delay. “Alex,” he said, and his voice was warm.

“It’s not a social call, Rafe,” Alex said.

He could almost hear Rafe sitting up, his focus snapping in. “What’s happened?”

“I’m at the Forty-Third precinct station. They haven’t arrested me, but they’ve implied that if I leave here it won’t look good. They have photos of what looks like me at the site of a hit and run…and I wasn’t there, Rafe.” The last came out more stridently than he wanted it to. Fear, or any emotion, implied that he was involved in some way, and he knew without a shred of doubt that he hadn’t been at the accident. But the photos…. He squeezed the phone a bit harder. “Could you come down and sort it out?” he asked quietly, forcing his tone to calmness. “The only other lawyer I know stopped practicing two hundred years ago.”

There was a small silence. “Do they think you had something to do with the hit and run?”

“They’re not saying.”

“That just means they haven’t got a clue right now.” Rafe swore softly.

“I don’t suppose they do. The whole thing is very strange. Even I don’t have a clue,” Alex confessed.

“I’ll be there in forty minutes. Cooperate if they ask questions, but let them know I’m coming.”

Alex put his phone away, feeling slightly happier. An appeal court judge descending upon them would stir the police into a faster investigation, if nothing else.

Chapter Eight

Even the first ten minutes of the forty Alex needed to wait for Rafe to arrive seemed to crawl endlessly. It was the first time he could remember experiencing time subjectively since becoming a vampire.

Sitting in the cold room alone gave him far too much time to think about the battlefield that was his life at the moment. Crises and disasters scattered across it and he had no idea how everything had seemed to blow up so suddenly.

He kept returning to the kiss. Sydney’s kiss.

That was another catastrophe in the making. How had he let it happen? Normally, he was in control of things and events played out in an orderly, systematic way that helped with his research and kept his life flowing smoothly and uneventfully. He had grown accustomed to that graceful pace.

He had grown used to Sydney turning him down, even though his hope that she might one day change her mind lived in the back of his mind like a pilot light turned down low. Why had she chosen now, though? Why this day? It complicated matters in a way that he knew he would have to deal with, at least in his own head, when he had time to think somewhere far away from this place.

Had he let the kiss happen? She had moved fast, but not faster than his perceptions could track. He had watched her lean toward him and for a moment he’d genuinely wondered what she was doing. It had not occurred to him that she might kiss him. Sydney and kisses were something that lived chained in the same back room in his mind, to be brought out and examined when he was in the mood for self-torture (and that was more and more often lately, wasn’t it?).

When he had recognized that she was about to kiss him, he had been so surprised he hadn’t thought to halt it. Then he shook his head, swearing silently. Of course he could have halted it. He hadn’t wanted to.

The real kiss was far better than any he had rehearsed in his imagination. Responding had been instinctive, driven by the pleasure her kiss generated. And that was another problem. He should have pushed her gently away. Explained himself. Instead he had to look into her eyes and to find a way to remove the dawning hope and happiness in them.

He dropped his head into his hands and squeezed his temples. What a ruin this was!

The door opened and he looked up, grateful for any distraction that would take him away from his thoughts. Sydney leaned into the room and beckoned. “They’ve agreed you can wait in my office,” she said. “I’ve got more comfortable seats there.”

“I remember,” Alex said, standing up. “I don’t want to jeopardize your position in this matter, but at the same time, a cushion would be most welcome.”

“I’m the victim in this,” Sydney said flatly. “There’s nothing you could do that would screw that up any more than it was in the first place. C’mon.” She held the door open.

* * * * *

This was the first time Alex had been given unfettered access to Sydney’s office. During his first few visits, he had stayed on his feet near the door, so that she would not feel he was intruding. It had been very important then not to give even the slightest wrong impression.

But now, Sydney moved files off the loveseat in the back corner of the cramped little room and waved him toward it. “Do you drink tea?” she asked.

“Occasionally,” Alex lied. “But I’m fine for now, thank you.”

“I’m getting one. The coffee here is paint-stripper in disguise. I’ll be right back.”

Once she had left, Alex’s attention was caught by the books on the shelves behind her desk. There were a lot of well-thumbed police technical titles, but the upper shelves and the lower ones were the more interesting. Nearly everything was in hardcover and he ran his finger over the spines, reading them off. Criminology, law, police in history, psychology, criminal psychology, more history titles dealing with everything from Jack the Ripper, to Genghis Khan, to Special Forces biographies. Tucked away at the bottom corner was a leather bound set of the complete Sherlock Holmes stories.

Sydney returned when Alex had started to flip through the second book in the collection, remembering when the stories had first appeared and what a fuss the media and readers had made when Conan Doyle had tried to kill Sherlock Holmes off.

She put the cup of tea down on the desk and looked over his arm at the book. “They’re great inspiration,” she said. “I don’t think anyone could ever really pull off the feats of detection that Holmes does, but it’s a nice fantasy to aspire to.”

His body strummed. She was standing too close and he could smell her scent, which was light but sophisticated. Underneath that was her natural scent and that was even more powerful. Even if he had not known it already, her scent and her body temperature would have told him that sometime in the last hour or so she had been sexually aroused. It was hard to ignore.

He realized he was staring at her and not at the book. But Sydney just looked calmly back. She didn’t move away. She didn’t blush. But her pulse elevated. He could hear her heart pick up pace. And damn it, he still couldn’t look away.

There was a sharp rap on the door and Sydney whirled, just as the door thrust open. “Lieutenant Stevens, the desk clerk said…” Rafe said, speaking as he stepped inside. He was here and fifteen minutes early.

Alex smiled at him, grateful that he had made such good time. But Sydney cleared her throat. She was blushing.

Alex watched Rafe’s gaze flicker over her. Even from six feet away and just inside the door, he would have no trouble at all detecting her arousal. Her blush alone would look damning.

Rafe’s expression tightened and his eyes grew flinty. He straightened up, his hand falling away from the door knob. “Lieutenant Stevens?” he asked formally.

“Yes,” Sydney said. “You’re Alex’s lawyer?”

After a year of calling him Doctor Karim, she had finally used his first name.

Alex’s chest tightened as Rafe stared at her, absorbing everything. It didn’t need Sherlock Holmes to figure it out, but Alex knew Rafe would choose the most damning interpretation. So he bent and returned the book to its slot on the shelf and straightened up again.

“Rayner De Leon,” Rafe said. “Have charges been laid?” He looked at Alex directly, and his face was just as flinty as when he looked at Sydney.

“No, none,” Sydney said. “Excuse me for the direct question, but aren’t you the appellate judge from the Second Appellate Court?”

“Yes, but I’m also Alex’s lawyer right now. Is there a private room we can use? I want to talk to my client.”

* * * * *

He could barely wait for the door to shut. He dumped his briefcase on the battered table and turned to Alex. “That’s her, isn’t it?” he demanded. “The one you said was a possibility.”

Alex pushed his hand through his hair. “Was a possibility,” he said calmly.

“So you’re lovers now,” Rafe pushed. The words made him feel sick.

Alex’s eyes narrowed. “Is that really a matter for you to worry about?” he asked softly.

There was a warning in that tone. Alex was a private man. Rafe had figured that out already, but he ignored the warning anyway. “I thought that….” He blew out his breath. “I thought I deserved that consideration, yes.”

“I warned you,” Alex said, “right from the start.”

“I didn’t think you’d jump straight from my bed to hers!” Rafe shouted, throwing out his hand in a roused gesture.

Alex just looked at him. “Why are you so upset?” he asked quietly.

Why was he so upset? Rafe whirled away, to the corner of the room where he didn’t have to look at him. Where he could think. What was happening here? He had seduced…well, he had chosen to cooperate in Alex’s seduction and at the beginning it had been a pleasant way to pass the time.

But Alex had not been the wispy distraction he had thought he would be. The way he had kissed him in his own kitchen, his pleasure when Rafe had brought him off that very first time, his lovemaking, which was innocent and sophisticated at the same time—it had intrigued Rafe.

The things Alex said kept popping up in his mind later, unexpectedly strumming and resonating. He was far younger, but he seemed to have spent his time thinking far more profoundly than Rafe had ever bothered to do.

There were depths to Alex that beckoned. He had by-passed the status of distraction long before he had arrived for dinner and charmed every last one of Rafe’s family at the table. Was Rafe the idiot here?

He recalled the moment he had walked into the Lieutenant’s office. He had been struck, first, by the thought that he knew her, somehow. But she was a stranger to him. She had never been in his court. Appeal courts were the domain of senior lawyers, not detectives and he would remember someone so gloriously beautiful.

It had taken a moment to notice the signs and symptoms in her, to hear her racing heart and sample her scent. The woman had been roused and ready. Rafe wondered how Alex had pulled that off with a heavy book in his hands, but her state was unmistakable.

And he didn’t like it. Not at all.

Alex’s hand fell on his shoulder and squeezed. “Whatever you’re thinking, you’re wrong.”

“Am I?” Rafe asked bitterly, turning to face him again. “It wasn’t just her that was aroused, back there. Tell me you weren’t the tiniest bit tempted, Alex. Tell me and make me believe it.”

Alex shook his head. “I can’t tell you that. I wish I could. I wish I could lie and fix this, but I can’t, Rafe. I won’t, not with you.”

Rafe could feel his eyes widen at the same time it felt like someone had kicked him in the chest. He stalked back to the table and picked up his briefcase. “I get you out of this mess and home without rousing their ire, then we’re done.”

* * * * *

Sydney pressed the buzzer and shifted on her feet, not with nerves, but with a combination of anticipation and pure lust. She had spent the last two days unable to think of anything else but Alex and that damn kiss. And the near kiss that followed. Her dreams had been shot with images of him taking her in a range of ways that shifted from the purely romantic all the way up to the purely pornographic.

She had tried working and been distracted and irritable all day. So she had done something she had never done before—she’d looked up Alex’s address in the police database.

The scrap of paper with the address had sat on her desk for the rest of the afternoon, teasing her. Beckoning.

She’d booked off at four, unable to stand the tension any longer. She had driven straight out here, to Beverly Hills, trying not to be impressed about the address. Now she was here and had no idea what she should do or say when he finally stood in front of her.

It took several minutes for the door to open, long minutes that had her heart racing and her blood surging in a way she could feel in her ears and her temples. When she finally heard the lock turning, she gasped out loud in relief.

Alex pushed the door aside and looked at her. “You shouldn’t be here,” he said.

“What happened?” she asked, alarmed. All her arousal and her need evaporated as she took in his appearance. He was wearing worn and faded jeans and a cotton shirt that looked like he had been wearing it for days. The wrinkles were ironed into the sleeves and the front. It was untucked. His feet were bare. It was so unlike Alex to look so disheveled that fear leapt into her chest. “What’s wrong?”

Alex turned away from the door, leaving it open. “Now is not a good time, Sydney.”

She moved inside and shut the door. “Just tell me what has happened,” she begged. “You’re scaring the shit out of me.”

Alex stopped moving. He looked over his shoulder at her. “It doesn’t matter,” he said listlessly and turned to lean against the white wall, his head down.

“Is it being stuck at home?” she asked, moving toward him. “Because I have good news about that. Brody and Taylor and…and…”

“Veris,” Alex supplied.

“Yes. They did more than corroborate your alibi, Alex. They had a home video of the birthday party. A neighbor across the street saw your Jaguar on the street in front of the house until after midnight. So you’re clear. It wasn’t you, just like you’ve been saying all along.”

Alex glanced at her. “Very well,” he said listlessly.

“Do you want to know something strange?” she asked, taking another step closer to him. “Someone got into the evidence box and took all the security and traffic cam videos. They’re gone.”

Alex’s head lifted. For the first time she saw something other than dead neutrality in his eyes. “Everything is gone?” he asked.

“Everything,” Sydney said firmly, happily omitting the one tiny exception, if it meant Alex would cheer up. “So even if you didn’t have an alibi, the missing evidence means they have to drop that angle of the investigation. They never seriously thought you were the driver, anyway.”

“Glad to hear it,” Alex said dryly. “As I wasn’t anywhere near there. How did the evidence go missing?”

“Does it matter?” she asked gently. “It’s gone and that means you’re free and clear.”

“It does matter,” Alex said slowly. “There’s something odd about it just abruptly going missing, like that. You keep your evidence under lock and key. Did someone break in?”

“They’re still trying to figure that out,” Sydney told him. “It’s my case, so it’s not my problem. I can’t get involved.”

Alex’s eyes narrowed. “You seem very cavalier about a breach of security and the possible contamination of evidence against whoever tried to kill you.”

Sydney smiled. “I don’t care,” she said honestly. “I’m actually even a little pleased.”

“Pleased?”

“Nothing about the accident makes any sense at all, to me or to the detectives on the case, from what they’ve told me. It got confusing when we saw the videos. Now the videos are gone it’s less confusing from a legal perspective and that’s fine by me.”

He studied her. “You don’t believe me.”

Sydney sighed. “Maybe we should talk about this later. You’re clearly not in the right mood.”

“I’m fine,” he said flatly. “Although I’m wondering why you don’t trust me.”

“I do trust you, Alex. I absolutely believe you when you say you weren’t there. But I was there and although I didn’t remember it until I saw the photos, you were there, too. You spoke to me and you called me by name.”

“You only remembered it when you saw the photos?

“I remembered that and I remembered what you said in the hospital, about not telling anyone.” She moved closer. “Here’s the thing, Alex. If I accept your assertion that you were not there, and I do accept it because you’re not a liar, and if I accept that I wasn’t imagining things, because I know I wasn’t, then nothing about this makes any sort of sense.”

Alex gave her a small smile. “You’re in a pickle then, aren’t you? It’s a good thing you’re not the investigator for this one.”

“That’s why I’m pleased about the evidence going missing. It makes the case very straight forward now. It just leaves you and I to wonder in our idle hours about what really happened.”

Alex tilted his head. “Is that why you’re here? To tell me about the missing evidence?”

“No, I….” Sydney began, then stopped herself from blurting out the frank truth. Alex’s mood was incomprehensible to her right now because he wasn’t opening up at all. He wouldn’t welcome lusty confessions. So she settled for a partial truth. “We were going to talk, you said. I couldn’t wait any longer.”

Alex took in a deep breath that lifted his chest. “We do need to talk,” he agreed softly. “But if we talk now, Sydney, I’m not going to be fair with you. I’ve…had some bad news. I’m feeling very bitter.”

Bad news? Sydney reassessed his appearance and his mood when he had answered the door and put it together with an almost audible click in her mind. “Did you get dumped?”

Alex reacted like she had bitten him. He almost side-stepped away from her. “You knew I was seeing someone?”

“I guessed,” Sydney said. “Criminals don’t always lie, but what they don’t say is where the truth is found.”

Alex’s jaw rippled. “I’m not a criminal.”

“Which means you know how to lie with even less expertise than they do.” She stepped much closer. “You stopped touching me, Alex. That’s what told me that the conclusion all the other hints were pointing at was true.”

He let out a gusty sigh. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t account for your investigative instincts.”

She reached up and cupped his cheek. “It was very messy?”

“Messy enough.” For the first time since she had stepped in the door, he looked at her directly, his gaze steady. “I told them about you.”

Oh. Something in her chest tightened, stealing some of her breath. “Told them what?” Her voice had no strength.

His gaze wasn’t wavering by an inch. “You know what. You’ve known for more than a year.”

She swallowed. “You’ve hounded me for a date…but…”

“Did you think my interest only a casual thing? That I would campaign for two years because I was marginally intrigued by the color of your eyes or the curve of your breast?”

Her heart jumped. “Truth, Alex? I didn’t once think about why you were doing what you were doing. Not once. I have avoided such thinking for over ten years and it was easier not to ask myself why and open up all the complications that came with it. I didn’t want to know your motives.” She drew in a breath that shuddered. “Until you kissed me.”

“I believe that you were the one who climbed over the console,” Alex pointed out dryly.

She took one last step and now she was so close to him she had to look up and lean back a little to see his face properly. If she swayed forward even a little bit their bodies would touch. Her nerves all came on-line, tingling at the possibilities. “I may have started it,” she said, and her voice betrayed her arousal. “But you finished it and more thoroughly than I had intended. You opened up a Pandora’s Box, Alex. I can’t close it now.”

His breath was faster, too, as his gaze flickered over her face.

“Kiss me,” she demanded.

His jaw flexed. “If I do…if you insist on this, I’ll cooperate, but it will be for all the wrong reasons.”

Sydney licked her lips. “If you want to get over your rejection with some revenge sex, that’s fine by me.”

He moved faster than she thought possible. His arms came around her, she was turned rapidly, then her back was against wall. Alex pressed up against her, his long length pinning her. Hard. They stayed like that, looking at each other.

She let out another shuddering breath, adrenaline mixing with the anticipation. “Kiss me,” she demanded and this time her voice emerged as a whisper.

He bent his head and kissed her, and it was everything she had wanted it to be. The pressure of his lips against hers was just right. His tongue thrusting into her mouth brought a groan from her. Even the way he was holding her up against the wall, virtually immobile, generated pleasure. Sydney’s arms were locked down. All she could do was reach around him. She cupped his ass and delighted in the hard, rounded muscle she felt there. She pulled him against her, encouraging him. His hips pressed harder, almost grinding into her. His cock was a solid mass between them, teasing her as it brushed her pelvis. The whole time he kissed her, not letting her go for a second.

Sydney slid her hands upward, following the delightful curve of his ass and the small of his back. Because his shirt was hanging loose, her fingers slipped beneath it, and above the band of his jeans she found soft flesh. It was cool to her touch, but the softness was a delight, especially as she could feel hard muscles beneath, flexing and stretching as he moved. She swept up as high as she could reach, then trailed her fingertips back down again and stroked under the loose denim band.

Alex released her mouth, but didn’t pause. He kissed her jaw and her throat, trailing around to her ear and down the side of her neck. Sydney closed her eyes and let her head roll to the side, to give him better access. She was trembling and barely standing on her own feet. Alex was propping her up.

Then for a moment, he wasn’t. He leaned away from her, his hips maintaining contact and hooked his fingers in the top of her shirt. He tugged. It didn’t look like he put effort into it, but every single button popped and scattered across the tiles at their feet and the shirt fluttered open.

Sydney spread her hands over the wall behind her, for support. She was breathing heavily and her body pulsed.

Alex reached for her bra, his fingers curling over the middle of it, the knuckles brushing her breasts. He didn’t look at her. He pulled and the bra tore with a low ripping noise and fell away, but before it reached the ground, his hand slipped over the front of her trousers. He glanced at her and she knew she could stop him with a single word. She stayed silent. She wasn’t sure if she could speak, anyway.

The trousers split at the side seams and she felt the tug as the wool brushed between her thighs. Alex tossed the ruined garment aside and grabbed her hips, bending to run his mouth over her chest, with a small growl that sounded hungry and made her shiver with delight. His beard brushed her flesh, a secondary delight. As he trailed down the slope of her breast, she was lifted off her feet. He was bringing her up to a convenient height for him, and he made a rough noise that sounded like one of satisfaction. Then he sucked in the tip of her breast and his teeth closed around the nipple.

Sydney cried out at the pure pleasure that bolted through her. Her clit wasn’t just throbbing, it was pulsing in heavy waves. There seemed to be a direct connection between her nipples and her clit, cycling the pleasure even higher. He toyed with her breasts for endless long minutes and Sydney thought she would go mad with need. Her hands thrummed against the wall, her hips were thrusting into his hands. Her panties, the only garment she was wearing apart from her low-heeled stilettos, were damp with her moisture.

Alex pulled her hips away from the wall, so that only her back was supporting her. The movement pushed her legs against him and Alex lifted her knees, one after another, so that her thighs were spread around him. His hands were under her ass, and one hand tugged at the back of her panties, pulling them away with a whisper of tearing lace. Then she felt his arm working under her and heard the soft sound of a zipper.

Her heart leapt hard. He was going to take her right here. Right now!

He was watching her, measuring her reaction.

She swallowed. “Hurry,” she whispered and her voice was strangled down to a whisper by frantic desire.

His hands returned to her ass, this time with no lace barrier between them. He lowered her a few inches and his cock pressed up against her. Sydney held her breath, as he slid inside her. He felt thick and very hard, and as he filled the length of her channel, she groaned.

So did Alex. He paused, his cock fully inside.

Their gazes met.

Sydney could barely speak. She was jittering apart around him.

Alex kissed her, a brief brush of his lips. Then he began to thrust. It was a slow movement at first. She could feel every inch of him sliding into her and withdrawing. But then he began to thrust in earnest and she could see by the fierce concentration on his face that he was controlling himself, making it last.

Then she couldn’t watch anymore. Her climax was building, which was beyond belief, for in her past experience, vaginal climaxes weren’t something she thought she was capable of. But the same excitement was building from the pit of her belly, swelling in waves, making her breath hitch and her body to tighten up. “Harder!” she begged as she clawed her way toward the peak.

Alex rammed into her, just the way she needed. With a sound she had never heard herself make before, she was tipped over into an orgasm. It ripped through her, in wave after long wave, making her shudder. Her pussy was clamping in pleasure with each wave, her clit pulsing hard. The climax gripped her for what seemed like minutes on end.

Despite the rolling, endless pleasure that made her almost blind to anything, Sydney was still able to feel Alex stiffen and his hips jerk. He groaned loudly as he came, his fingers digging into her hips.

They came to a rest once more, both of them breathing heavily. Sydney gave a quivering sigh.

Alex lifted his head to look at her. “That sounded like you just made up for ten years of celibacy.” There was a small smile lifting the corner of his mouth.

“Barely,” Sydney said. “I’m going to need a lot of that to square the books.”

“As you wish.” He shifted and straightened up, bringing her with him. His cock was still inside her, still heavy and thick, and now it seemed heated, glowing against the walls of her pussy.

He turned and started to walk down the passage and Sydney threw her arms around his shoulders, moaning against his neck, for with each stride, his cock thrust a little deeper inside her.

Then he stopped where the passage opened out into the airy foyer at the front door and shook his head. “No, I cannot wait.” He muttered something in another language and put her on the floor, his cock sliding from her.

“But—” she began, disappointment and alarm touching her.

“Shh…” He shucked off his jeans and treated his shirt the same way as hers—he tore it off, regardless of the buttons. Then he was naked in front of her. His cock rose straight up, as firm as it had been before he had slid it into her. Sydney’s heart beat a little harder as she took in his physique and the very real muscles that his clothing never showed. He was lean and ripped…and his thighs were thick with rider’s muscles.

Before she could enjoy the view any more, he turned her, his hands on her shoulders. She was facing the narrow table against the wall, next to the front door. There was a big oval mirror over the top of it.

“Bend over,” Alex said. He was watching her in the mirror. “Hold onto the table.”

Pleasure touched her. She bent and placed her hands on the edge of the table, and raised her head to look in the mirror. Alex was studying her ass and as she watched, he reached and slid his fingers through her cleft, from her ass to her clit. She hissed and pushed backward with her hips.

But he didn’t take the invitation. Instead, he stroked along her cleft once more, only this time, his fingers separated around her clit, then closed on it and tugged. Sydney jerked in surprise and cried out.

“Mm…” Alex murmured and did it again. Then he began to stroke her clit in firm, short touches and Sydney had to close her eyes, for the pleasure was overwhelming. She was going to come again. She began to shake, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

At the last minute, he stopped and she choked out a cry of protest. As she lifted her head to look at him, he stepped behind her. His cock slid into her, deeper and deeper until his pelvis was pushed up against her ass. His hands claimed her hips again and this time he did not start with a slow, deathly pace. He thrust into her hard and fast, his fingers gripping tightly.

The pleasure swirled again and Sydney caught her breath and held on, her body clamping around him with every thrust.

Then he dropped a hand and curled it around her hip and reached between her thighs. His rhythm didn’t pause as his fingers claimed her clit once more and began to stroke in time with his thrust.

Sydney rolled her head back and cried out as her climax shattered through her body, leaving spots dancing in her eyes and her breath more ragged than before. She thought she might pass out.

Alex slammed into her, his thrusts shortening and speeding up and she watched in the mirror as his climax took him, making the tendons in his neck stand out. Then he averted his head, away from the mirror and stepped away from her, his cock withdrawing.

She straightened and turned, puzzled, as he kept his face away from her. His mouth worked and it seemed that he was probing under his lips with his tongue. Then his shoulders relaxed and he looked at her once more. His gaze travelled over her. Then he gave her a small smile. “Your heels should be higher.”

“I’d be taller than you, if they were.”

“That’s a disadvantage I can work with,” he assured her. “Besides, everyone is the same height, lying down.”

She laughed.

Alex picked up her hand. “Come with me. You can leave the shoes if you want.”

She kicked off her shoes and followed him through the house. It was white and cool and airy, despite the chronically hot day.

It didn’t surprise her when he opened a door and led her into what was clearly his bedroom. The bed was made, but clothes were scattered on it. He swept them up and tossed them onto a chair in the corner. The cover on the bed was luxurious, with satin and braid and brocade, in golds and maroons, but he stripped that off, too, and the top sheet of the bed, leaving it with only the white bottom sheet and the pillows.

“Are you hungry?” Alex asked her.

“Not in the slightest.”

He picked her up. “Good.” He placed her on the bed and climbed onto the mattress beside her, then turned her around, so he was facing her knees. He spread her legs and already, she could see his cock was twitching and lengthening again.

Alex took his time settling down between her thighs, enough time so that Sydney was shaking with anticipation again. He looked at her over the top of her pussy. “You can tell me when you’ve had enough.” He lowered his mouth to her clit and his tongue and teeth began to stroke it.

He was inexhaustible. Every time she came, or he climaxed, he would pause to look at her, as if he was measuring something in her face or her expression, then he would turn her, or lift her and begin again. He spent more time pleasuring her and bringing her to climax than he did concentrating on his own satisfaction, but he seemed to get as much out of bringing her to a screaming, shaking peak as she did.

Sometime after it had grown dark and he had turned on the bedside lamps, he slid his hand over her hip, from her waist to her thigh. She was resting on her side, her body momentarily quiet. But she was far from tired. Alex had woken in her a sleeping monster. She had thought all these years that because celibacy had been so convenient for her while she concentrated on her career, that she was malformed, perhaps asexual. She didn’t miss it, for she was too busy. But now she found she was greedy for everything Alex did to her and with her. It was all good, it was all glorious and she wanted more of it. She felt just as she had told him—it would take much to make up for the wasted years.

Alex was lying behind her and now as his hand smoothed its way over her hip he kissed her shoulder. His fingers curled over one of her ass cheeks, and the small finger slipped between them and fluttered over her anus, making her hips twitch. “Have you ever indulged in…?” he murmured, and this time his fingers stroked very deliberately over the aperture.

His light touch made her draw in her breath. It was an interesting sensation…and pleasurable. She rolled onto her shoulders, keeping her hips still, and looked at him. “I’m the celibate spinster, remember.”

“That would be no, then.” He sat up on one elbow. “Would you like to?”

She hesitated. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

“Not if the man knows what he is doing and I do happen to know what I’m doing.”

“I’m not even the slightest bit surprised at that,” she told him and he smiled, his pale-colored eyes dancing with merriment. She considered him for a moment. “Touch me again, like you just did.”

His fingers stroked between her cheeks, then one pressed gently against her anus. Her nerves twitched and jumped and she drew in a sharp breath. “Yes,” she said, breathing out. “I want to try it.”

Alex kissed her again, then rolled onto his back and reached for the drawer in the bedside table. He brought out a small tube that Sydney recognized as lubricant and squeezed some into his hand.

“What should I…?” she began.

“Stay where you are,” Alex told her. “You’re in the perfect position for what I want to do to you.”

She shivered. There was such promise in his voice. Then he pushed her knee, the top one, forward on the mattress. His hand slid through her cleft again, only this time he pressed his fingers up against her anus, rimming it. Nerves sparkled and sizzled in reaction and Sydney moaned.

Then he pushed a finger inside, spreading her and she caught her breath once more. “Oh…” she breathed.

“It gets better,” he assured her.

She swallowed and gripped the sheet.

He inserted a second finger, both of them sliding inside easily thanks to the lubricant, and she realized that he was spreading the lubricant the same time he was teasing her. His two fingers were stretching her, working the muscle. Preparing her.

But it was still a pleasurable sensation and very different from having a cock in her pussy. Different nerves were responding. But her clit was also starting to throb.

By the time he had three fingers inside her, moving them back and forth, Sydney knew she liked it. She wanted to press her hips back, to encourage him, but was anchored on the mattress, helpless to do anything but accept what he did to her.

Then his fingers were gone. She turned her head to look at him.

“I haven’t abandoned you,” he assured her. “That would not be honorable.”

Then she felt his cock press up against her, thicker than his fingers and she caught her breath, this time in fear.

“Relax, Sydney,” Alex told her, breathing into her ear. “I won’t hurt you. And you’ll like this so much.”

She let out her breath steadily, trying to relax like he said. He pressed into her and it did seem like he was too big, but then she felt herself open up and he slid deeper, then halted, barely inside her.

He brushed her hair back from her face. “Do you like, so far?” he murmured.

“Yes.” And she did.

His fingers moved down to her breasts and he squeezed the nipples, and scraped his nails over them. She arched, as her clit pulsed in response, and that was when he pushed deeper into her. She caught her breath, because his teasing of her nipples had made her relax just as he had wanted her to.

She felt very full.

Alex ran his hand over her hips again, and down her thigh to her knee, the one thrust out onto the mattress. “This time, the pleasure is all yours. You have to get used to me being in you, and there’s no better way than climaxing around me.”

She caught her breath. “How…?”

He bought his other hand to her cleft, and it was slick with more lubricant. He pressed his finger into her, this time into her pussy. It was a tight fit. His cock in her ass took up most of the room. The feeling of fullness increased as he eased them deeper. She couldn’t tell how many of them. She could barely think, for her excitement was bubbling over and she began to pant.

“Mmm…” he crooned. “Now you begin to understand.”

He thrust his fingers in and out of her, faster than any cock might go, and the rough protrusions of his knuckles scraped against the walls of her pussy. The nerve endings around the opening shrieked with pleasure and clamped in response, squeezing her clit and squeezing around Alex’s cock. She cried out as her orgasm built. The power of it was frightening.

She gripped the sheet convulsively, as the climax built higher and higher. Alex didn’t relent. He didn’t slow down. He didn’t stop.

Her climax hit with the power of a thunderclap. She strained and her scream seemed to tear at the back of her throat. The pleasure gripped her for long moments as she vibrated tautly.

Alex gripped her hip and she felt him shift inside her, a small thrust. He gave a choked sound and his head pressed against her shoulder. He had climaxed just from being inside her.

They came to rest again and he made no move to withdraw from her. Sydney listened to her heart beat slowly while he stroked the flesh just under her breast, making shredded nerves twitch. Then he kissed her, this time just under her ear. “I think I lied to you, Sydney.” His voice was very low.

“You did? When?”

“This isn’t revenge sex. Not any more, if it ever was.”

Her heart lifted. “I don’t think it’s just sex.”

His response was slow coming, and it was low and heartfelt. “No, it’s not.”

* * * * *

When he came out of the en suite, Sydney was asleep on the bed, her wet hair lying tangled on the sheet. She was gloriously naked. His dressing gown was lying over the arm of the chair in the corner, and the sheet was on the floor at the foot of the bed, but she had chosen neither of them. Even in sleep, her nipples were sharply defined. Beckoning.

And reddened.

Frowning, Alex stepped closer and leaned down to look at them. The same roughened, chapped skin appeared on her face, especially around her full lips.

He straightened up with a snap, bringing his hand to his face and feeling the coarse bristles under his fingers. That sort of abuse could be easily remedied.

He turned and went back into the en suite. There was a hand razor and cream in the far back of the cabinet that he had used when he was first growing out the beard. Once the beard had been full and properly trimmed, he had been able to shut down his heart, which supplied the faux metabolism vampires needed to grow out hair or fingernails. He had also been able to halt the incessant feedings needed to keep such a metabolism burning.

Now he hauled the razor out, wet his beard, covered it in the cream and set to work shaving it all away. He didn’t regret the loss in the slightest, not if it spared Sydney’s delicate skin.

He had finished and was wiping away the last traces of the cream, studying his newly bared face in the mirror when the realization struck him with enough force to make him gasp and lower the towel.

His beard was gone. Just like in the photos of Sydney’s accident.

And the accident was now in the past.

Did he somehow…in some way he was still to discover…did he go back to the past?

Had he been at the accident after all?

Chapter Nine

Sydney woke when Alex shook her. He was standing over her, fully dressed in a shirt, trousers and shoes. “It’s six in the morning. I didn’t know if you wanted to go to work today, although you’re still entitled to sick leave after the accident.”

She sat up, thrusting the sheet and quilt aside. “Your beard! You shaved it off!”

Alex gave one of those sideways smiles of his and kissed her lightly on the mouth. “I want to go on kissing you,” he said, then touched his finger to the flesh around her mouth. She winced, for his touch made her skin burn. “I don’t want to do that to you every time. It was an easy choice.”

Then he stood back and unhooked a bathrobe from the back of the door. “There’s breakfast, if you want it, although I warn you I am not the world’s greatest cook.”

“You had to compensate for your other gifts,” she said. “Cooking is a good one to concede.”

Alex frowned, as he held out the robe and let her slip into it.

She looked at him over her shoulder and patted the mattress.

His gaze skittered away, then came back to her. The little half smile was back.

“Are you blushing, Doctor Karim?” she teased.

He shook his head. “I don’t blush. I’ll be in the kitchen when you’re ready to eat.”

* * * * *

The heavenly smell of coffee told her where the kitchen was and when she found it, Alex was sitting at the counter, a nearly-empty coffee cup in front of him and a tablet in the other hand, with a news video running, the host exclaiming over the smog levels this week.

He looked up. “I hope you don’t mind. I’ve already eaten. I was starving.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” she said and slid onto the stool next to him. There was a plate with waffles and a small beaker with syrup. Drying on the dish rack was a matching plate and knife and fork.

“They’re frozen,” he said apologetically. “Not only am I a lousy cook, I wasn’t expecting company. I usually go out to eat.”

“But you make the best tea I’ve ever tasted.”

“Oh, that.” He smiled. “I learned that when I was very young. I suppose it stayed with me.”

She took an enormous bite of the waffle, her stomach clamping painfully with hunger, then chewed and swallowed hastily. “I’m so hungry, it tastes like gourmet standard to me.”

He got up and poured her a coffee from the machine and sat back down again.

“You know I take it black?” she asked curiously.

“Every time I’ve visited your office, there was an unfinished cup of black coffee on your desk. At least one. Which is just as well, because I don’t have cream, either.”

She sipped the coffee and sighed. “So how young were you when you learned to boil tea?”

“Tall enough to carry a bucket of water without tripping over it.” He glanced at her. “We had a community well.”

“I see.” The glimpse of another culture, one that was unknown to her, was intriguing.

“It was the job of each child as they grew big enough to haul water and boil tea. Once my younger brother was deemed tall enough by my father, then the chore became his.”

She was startled. “I don’t think you’ve ever mentioned your family to me before. Do you have a large family?”

Alex put his cup down. “Five brothers. Three sisters. We were a small family compared to our neighbors.”

“Wow…” Sydney breathed, then remembered to keep eating. “Do you stay in touch? I realize they’re probably still in the Middle East, but…”

Alex shook his head. “None are left,” he said quietly.

Sydney put her fork down, feeling sick and stupid. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think…was it because of the troubles there?”

“In a way.” He swirled the coffee around in the bottom of his cup, sipped, then grimaced. “Cold,” he muttered and pushed it aside.

Sydney made herself keep eating, even though she felt gauche and awkward. But Alex kept looking down into his cup, like he was caught up in memories.

“You miss them, don’t you?” she asked.

He looked at her. “I haven’t, not for the longest time, but it suddenly just came sweeping back over me. I can barely remember their faces anymore.” He looked incredibly sad. “Life moves on, doesn’t it?”

“Not that I’ve found,” Sydney said, a bit too sharply. “History keeps dogging me until I trip and fall flat on my face.” She sought for a change of subject for this was edging into dangerous territory. “I think you must be older than I first thought you to be, Alex. Not that I mind bedding an older man in the slightest,” she added quickly.

“Sometimes I feel older than God,” he said softly, then he straightened up. “But not today. Today I feel like I’m…thirty-eight.”

“Thirty-eight?” That made him not too terribly much older than her. Six years was nothing. “You’re nearly forty and you haven’t had a passel of children yet to make up for your lost family?” As soon as she had said it, she wanted to take it back. Alex flinched, like she had hit him and in a way, she had. She reached for his hand. “Alex, I’m sorry. That was incredibly thoughtless of me.”

He was staring through her, as if his mind raced. “No, it’s okay. I’m not upset. I think you’ve nailed down something for me that I didn’t realize until now.” He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it. His gaze was light and carefree now. “I have wanted a family and children of my own for a long, long time. I didn’t know, until now, where that need came from. Now I do.” He looked like he was going to say something else, but instead he just smiled.

At her.

There was a roaring sound in her ears, muffling everything. Sick horror burst through her. History keeps dogging me, she thought bitterly. She pushed her plate away from her, barely seeing it. She slid off the stool, staggering a bit.

“Sydney?” Alex’s voice came from far away. “What is it?”

“Where’s my bag?” She could barely form the words. She remembered dropping it when she had come in yesterday. On the table…it’s on the table where we— She shut off the thought quickly.

“You can’t leave!” Alex said. “Not wearing a dressing gown. Sydney!” He was following her from the kitchen and she hurried her pace. Panic was booming in her belly, making her feel nauseous. She just had to hold it together until she was out of here.

Her bag was where she had dropped it, on the end of the little table. She snatched it up and searched for her keys.

Alex grabbed her arm. “Sydney, what is going on? What’s wrong?”

She wrenched her arm out of his grip. “Don’t touch me.” She kept her voice low so it wouldn’t shake. She found her keys and yanked them out thankfully.

Alex pushed his hands into his pockets. “At least let me go and get you some clothes and bring them back here. You can’t roam around Los Angeles in a housecoat.”

“They wear bikinis on Rodeo Drive. I don’t think anyone will even blink at me.” She pulled at the door, then tried to turn the knob. It turned freely, but the door still didn’t budge.

Alex reached over her shoulder and slid back an old-fashioned bolt at the top of the door. “Will you please tell me what is wrong?” he asked.

She shook her head. If she started explaining, she’d start crying. There was no way she was going to let him see her cry.

He touched her wrist, the lightest and most non-threatening touch. “When will I see you again?”

She shook her head and opened the door. “We can’t. I can’t…. I don’t want to see you again, Alex.” Then she was finally through the door and outside. She ran to her car, and drove away doing well above the speed limit. She didn’t slow down until she was miles away, but by then she had to because she couldn’t see properly through her tears.

* * * * *

Rafe stopped by later that day. When Alex opened the door, he actually stepped back in surprise. “Rafe…” Hundreds of things occurred to him that he might say, but he said none of them.

Rafe’s face was drawn, his expression stoically neutral. “I wanted to tell you that the police have officially lost interest in you. Someone stole their photos and videos, so they can’t pursue that line of enquiry.”

“Did you steal them?” Alex asked.

“Are you accusing me of breaking the law?” Rafe asked, his tone curious.

“You used to run rigged dice games, didn’t you?”

Rafe scowled. “That wasn’t my choice,” he said harshly. “I didn’t have a childhood of privilege and wealth like you.”

Alex gripped the door handle compulsively. Rafe was still angry. His fury was flickering in his eyes, even though his calm expression didn’t change.

Impulsively, Alex reached out and cupped Rafe’s cheek, his fingers in his hair. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said quietly. “None of this has worked out the way I would have liked it.”

“Did you get the blonde?” Rafe asked harshly, shrugging off his hand and stepping back.

“I…in a way, I suppose.”

“Then stop complaining,” Rafe said flatly. “I’ll send you my bill.” He walked away before Alex could respond and Alex watched him leave, his chest aching. Then he closed the door and leaned against it.

He pushed his hands through his hair. Then he held them out in front of him. They were shaking. Adrenaline was breaking through, not a good thing for vampires. He needed to feed, on top of everything else.

He pushed himself upright. Feed, he told himself. Then focus on the next task. That was how he had gotten through so many days, one after another. It was how he would get through the next millennia.

The thought was bitter.

* * * * *

Because Bruce trotted to the door with an eager whining sound, Sydney knew it was Alex before she opened it.

Alex was once more the urbane doctor, in a pristine suit. He was still clean shaven, but his eyes looked shadowed. Guilt touched her, but she kept her chin up.

Alex held up a large shopping bag with a logo she recognized from Rodeo Drive. “Replacements for your clothes I ruined.”

She took the bag. “Thank you.” And before she could change her mind, she closed the door…or started to.

Alex spread his hand against it and pushed back, holding it open. “I want to know what happened, Sydney. I can’t think of anything that I did that would justify you running away from me like I was a murderer. I think…I hope you think that I at least deserve an explanation.”

She let the door swing open again, turned and walked back to the coffee table and picked up the bundle of photos there. She came back to the door and held them out to him. “You go first, Alex. Explain that.”

Alex took the photos and she held the door open while he shuffled through them. She didn’t bother looking at them herself. The images were burned into her brain. The one that kept flashing into her mind was from the middle of the pack. Alex, standing in his front doorway and Rayner De Leon, his pet judge and acting lawyer, standing on the step. The photo had been taken from an angle, so both faces were clear. But the part of the image that kept drawing her gaze, that kept recurring in her thoughts, was Alex’s hand around the other man’s neck. It was more than a gesture of friendship. It was intimate.

Alex’s jaw flexed as he squared the stack up and held them back out to her. “You’ve been following me?” he asked quietly.

“Clintock was,” Sydney snapped. “He was following his nose, because he didn’t like the way things wouldn’t add up. He brought the photos to me, as a courtesy.” She tossed them onto the top of the bookcase by the door. “He thought I should know,” she added bitterly.

Alex sighed.

“You aren’t even going to try to explain it away, are you?”

He looked at her, his gaze steady. “The photos are date stamped. You know as well as I do they were taken yesterday.”

“He’s the one who dumped you, isn’t he?” Sydney asked. She could feel her anger starting to boil over and a small voice, a sane voice, whispered in her mind. Why are you so angry? You want him out of your life. This is the perfect excuse.

But the anger and hurt were bubbling over like some noxious mix, with rancid fumes. Driving her. “He’s the one you love,” she spat at him.

Alex jerked, like she had slapped him. “I don’t know,” he said calmly. “But it doesn’t matter, anyway.”

Something in her shifted and melted at his truly weary tone. She wanted to hold him. She wanted to kiss him, to take away that wretched look in his eyes. But she couldn’t do that. She gripped the door once more. “Don’t ever come here again,” she told him. “Don’t come to the office. Don’t call me.”

She shut the door. It was one of the hardest things she had ever done.

* * * * *

The room Alex found himself in was vast, the roof soaring far overhead. Large black and white tiles covered the floor, but there was no furniture. Just the endless floor. Along every wall were old-fashioned bookcases, filled with books that looked just as old. It was big and echoing, but it was a strangely comforting room. He decided he liked it and wanted to explore farther and as he had learned from before, his body obeyed his thought and moved forward, even though he really couldn’t look down and see his body at all.

As he floated down the length of the room, he saw ahead of him a figure in green. It seemed to be far away, but it rapidly drew closer and closer until he could see it was a girl, perhaps twelve years old, wearing a knee-length green coat. She had coppery brown curly hair and vivid gray eyes that reminded him sharply of Taylor…

“Marit!” he said, or perhaps he just thought it.

Marit smiled at him. “We found each other, Uncle Alex. I’m so glad.”

“But why are you here?”

“I’m not really here. Neither are you.” She gave him a small smile. “I came here to warn you.”

“Warn? About what?” Fear touched him.

“I can’t tell you too much,” she said, and sounded a little sad. “Far and Athair have told you all about the dangers of changing the past, so all I can do is tell you to watch out.”

“I’m in danger?” Alex asked.

“Just watch out,” she said cryptically and turned as if she was going to walk away again.

“Is this the past?” Alex asked her.

“This is nowhere,” Marit said over her shoulder. She was moving farther and farther away. Becoming smaller. “Remember, you can’t tell anyone about me. You’ll change the future if you do!”

And she was gone.

* * * * *

Alex blinked his gaze back into focus, looking around his living room with bleary eyes. Then slowly, he got up, his muscles protesting over the exercise. He staggered into the bedroom and on into the en suite and turned the shower on, making the water very hot.

He could remember nearly all of the vision or whatever it was he had seen. Marit, but years older than he knew her now. But where was it, that place where they had met? He knew it. It tugged on his memory, not like the demanding false memory that beguiled and teased, but a genuine memory.

After ten minutes, he straightened up, the water bouncing off the top of his head, instead of on his back where he had aimed it. He smacked the tiles. “Alice in Wonderland,” he breathed to himself. The long hall with the table and the bottle with the tag that said “drink me.” It was one of Marit’s favorite books and Alex had read it to her so many times he could almost recite it. Except the hall in Wonderland hadn’t been lined with books.

But Veris, Brody and Taylor’s main living area in their house was. That was why the room with the black and white floor had felt both familiar and comforting.

Is this the past? He had asked her and her reply had been correct. This is nowhere.

Just watch out.

Chapter Ten

Alex found a seat directly behind the defense table, next to Veris and Taylor, and tapped Brody on the shoulder. Brody turned and hugged him. “You look like hell, Alex,” he murmured. He gripped his arm. “What’s going on?”

Alex forced himself not to glance at Rafe, sitting in the chair next to Brody, his head down as he flipped through a thick pile of papers. “Your trial, is what is going on. You must stay focused.”

Brody let him go, his brow wrinkled heavily. “We’ll pick this up later,” he warned, his voice low.

Taylor looked past Veris as Alex settled in his seat. “Brody is right. You look like you’ve been abusing your health, which is impossible for someone like you.”

There was a murmur of voices from the back of the room, then quick footsteps. Alex didn’t look up as the two women passed him, but Sydney’s scent was impossible to miss (forget), and once they were passed, Alex let himself watch her move around the prosecutor’s table and take her place next to the Assistant District Attorney who was trying Brody’s case.

Sydney had her hair pinned up and was wearing a severe black skirt suit and low heels. Her working uniform.

Alex was unable to halt the images spilling through his mind—of plunging his hands into her loose hair and holding her head still while he kissed her, until she moaned under his lips. Brushing her hair away from face. The way the spun gold had glowed in the moonlight spilling through the windows as she lay beneath him.

Stop it! Stop torturing yourself.

He couldn’t let himself look at Rafe, not even the back of his head.

But Sydney was staring at him. Her expression was that of someone trying to understand something. There was a tiny pucker between her brows. Then she caught Alex’s gaze and looked away quickly. She turned on her seat, straightened her jacket and looked straight ahead.

Alex sighed. This was going to be a very long day.

Veris leaned toward him. “Have you fucked up, Alex?” he asked, very quietly. “There are two people in this room who won’t meet your eyes.”

“Royally,” Alex admitted softly. “But I have no idea what I did, in one case.”

Veris glanced at him. “Perhaps it’s because there are two people mentally cursing your name?”

“Probably,” Alex said. “Make that yes.”

“All rise for the honorable Judge Whittacker,” the court clerk called.

They all stood as the judge emerged from his chambers and climbed up to his desk, then settled on his chair. He looked around the room. “This case LM45698, the City of Los Angeles versus….” He looked down at the notes in front of him. “Brody Gallagher. Court is in session.” He banged the gavel.

Everyone sat down, except for Rafe. “If it pleases your honor, I would like to bring forward a motion for immediate dismissal of all charges against my client.”

Judge Whittacker looked over his glasses at Rafe. “Judge Rayner De Leon. It is an honor to have you in my court.”

“Thank you, your honor. These are unusual circumstance. I promise to behave myself while I’m sitting on this seat and not yours.”

“I appreciate that,” Judge Whittacker said soberly.

“Your honor, the motion?” the ADA asked, sounding frustrated.

The judge scowled at her, then looked at Rafe. “Indeed, Mr. De Leon. What could possibly justify a full dismissal? I’ve looked over the evidence, too, remember.”

“Your honor, I would like to present new evidence, if I may?”

The judge considered the question seriously. “Wouldn’t this be better read into the trial at the appropriate place in the proceedings? You may be a little rusty on criminal trial proceedings, Mr. De Leon.”

“Your honor, this evidence proves that my client was not given his full first amendment rights. If a defendant has been denied his constitutional rights, then a trial must be abandoned.”

“Your honor, this is outrageous!” the ADA shouted, getting to her feet. “This so-called evidence should have been presented during the discovery phase. The defense cannot dump it upon us without giving the prosecution time to study it.”

The judge looked at her over his glasses, as he tapped the gavel impatiently. “Thank you for your insight, Assistant District Attorney Barker. But I think we all can recognize a constitutional breech when it is staring us in the face. Read in your evidence, Mr. De Leon. Let’s get this over with.”

Rafe picked up a DVD disk and several sheets of paper and brought them up to the judge and placed them in front of him. ADA Barker hurried up to the bench, too.

Rafe touched the disk. “This is a recording from one of the security cameras at the coach depot on the night my client was arrested. And this—” and he touched the sheets, “is a sworn affidavit from the security guard who made the copy from his electronic files, swearing that this is a true copy.”

“Your honor, the defense has already produced a tape of security footage into evidence,” Barker protested. “Piling a second disk on top of the first doesn’t make it unconstitutional.”

The judge rolled his eyes. “Let’s just watch the DVD, shall we? Then you can use all the vitriol you can muster.”

One of the court clerks rolled a TV on a trolley into the room, and positioned it so that everyone could see the screen, then set up the TV to run the DVD. He pressed play.

The image that appeared on the screen was black and white, but much crisper and clearer than the photos from Sydney’s accident. There were a lot of people on the screen, all milling around Brody’s band’s touring coach, with its wild paintwork. There was a lot of overriding chatter, with people all talking at once.

Rafe stood up again. “Your honor, if I may?”

The judge waved to the clerk, who pressed pause.

Rafe stepped around the desk and walked up to the screen. He pointed to a group of people clustered together. “That is my client, there in the middle of the group. His wife is there,” and Rafe pointed to Taylor on the screen. Alex could see them now they had been pointed out to him. This was the first time he had seen any images from the night Brody had been arrested. He leaned forward, deeply interested despite himself.

“This figure here is Lieutenant Brixton,” Rafe continued. “He is the arresting officer, but was removed from the case within twelve hours of the arrest.”

“Your honor!” Barker called.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that biased remark, thank you, Ms. Baxter. Proceed, please.”

The clerk pressed the play button. For a few seconds the background noise and chatter remained, then the sound diminished and one voice became much clearer.

“We enhanced the sound to focus on the group surrounding my client, your honor,” Rafe said.

The arresting officer, Brixton, was speaking. “We were expecting to find a certain amount of cocaine and cannabis in all the lockers and we did, in amounts usually considered for personal use. Your stash was something else entirely.”

“My stash?” That was Brody, sounding stressed.

There was a murmur. “Brody, shut the fuck up.” That was Veris, leaning in toward Brody.

There were titters scattered among the people in the gallery, and the judge cleared his throat. “It was good advice despite the delivery. Carry on,” and he waved to the clerk, who started the video up again.

Brixton was looking down at his notebook. “Amphetamines, most of the social drugs, including Ecstasy, and the biggest bag of cocaine we’ve seen in a long time. Good quality stuff, too. Injectable, water-soluble high-grade cut. Then there’s the heroin. Pure white and uncut. A half-pound of the stuff, we figure. That right there will get you ten years at least, because that amount will be seen as possession with intent to distribute.” Brixton’s voice and tone and even his posture said that he was enjoying himself.

Alex glanced at the prosecution table. Baxter was not looking happy at all. Sydney looked simply disgusted.

Alex saw Veris leaned close to Brody once more. He murmured something.

“I didn’t hear that,” the judge complained as the video paused.

“Your honor, the affidavit in front of you includes a transcript of everything spoken. I believe my client’s friend said, ‘Do not say a single word’.”

“Thank you. Continue.”

Alex watched Brixton shut his notebook with a snap. “Of course, we’ll have all the official weights and measures properly listed on your arrest sheet for you,” he said as he put the notebook away again.

“What has Brody ever done to you, Lieutenant, to deserve your malice?” Taylor asked.

Brixton sneered. “People like you, with your undeserved wealth and fame and your superior holier-than-thou attitudes…you think you live above the law, that you can get away with anything you want because of who you are. Well, you can’t.” He clicked his fingers. “Brody Gallagher, you’re under arrest for the possession of illegal substances, with intent to distribute. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?”

“This is bullshit,” Brody growled as two of the uniformed cops stepped forward.

“Pause, please,” Rafe called out.

The video halted.

Rafe stepped out from behind his table once more. “Your honor, my client did not acknowledge that he understood his rights. I wanted to point that out before you watch the next fifteen seconds.”

The video started up again.

“We’ll sort it out,” Veris said, his voice low, but perfectly clear this time.

“Do you understand your rights as they have been explained to you?” Brixton demanded as the cops shoved between Taylor and Veris and yanked Brody’s arms back.

“Pause!” Rafe called, then looked at the judge. “A second iteration and request that Brody acknowledge he understands his rights. Continue.”

Alex could feel his heart beating all on its own. The stress and tension in the coach shed could be felt just by watching Veris and Taylor work to defend Brody.

The video started again. This time, there was a muffled, but still distinct shouting. “Daddy!” It came from the limousine, along with pounding on the windows.

Marit, Alex thought, feeling sick. She had watched all of it.

“Oh, God,” Brody moaned. “She can see me.”

The two uniforms ratcheted cuffs onto Brody’s wrists and Brody drew in a sharp, harsh breath that was quite clear on the sound track.

“And halt, please,” Rafe called.

The screen paused and Alex drew in a deep breath, glad he didn’t have to watch any more. No wonder the three of them had looked like they had been mugged when he had arrived at the station later that night.

Rafe waved his hand toward the screen. “Your honor, it is clear that my client was deeply stressed by the situation. He was concerned about his daughter witnessing the arrest—”

“That was his daughter in the car?” the judge queried.

“Yes, your honor. But my point is that my client was upset. He acted as if he hadn’t heard Lieutenant Brixton at all. He did not acknowledge at any time that he had heard his rights and understood them. This is a basic constitutional breech, your honor, and as such, I move that the case be dismissed.”

The judge blew out his breath. “Do you have anything to say, Ms. Baxter?”

The ADA rose to her feet. Slowly. “At this point, no, your honor. We do not having anything to add.”

Sydney’s face in profile was utterly still. Her jaw was thrust forward and Alex knew she was angry.

The judge looked at the paused video, with the dozen officers and detectives surrounding Brody, trying to haul him away. In the background, Alex could see Marit standing at the window of the limousine, her hands against the glass.

The judge dropped his glasses onto the blotter in front of him. “There’s a great deal I could say about excessive force and brutality, but unfortunately, that is not the case we are trying here today. Regardless of what Mr. Gallagher’s alleged crimes might have been, I concur that his basic constitutional rights, the rights that are fundamental to the law and our way of life, were not upheld. I have no choice but to dismiss this case. Court is dismissed.” He banged his gavel and pandemonium broke out around the court.

Brody got to his feet and turned and hugged Taylor over the barrier. While his face was buried in her hair, he reached out blindly to Veris and drew him into the hug.

“Judge De Leon!” It was Sydney’s voice.

Alex turned to see her making her way around the tables. She stopped at the end of the defendant’s table, a few paces away from Rafe, who turned to face her with a polite expression on his face. As the ADA brushed past Sydney and strode toward the door, an implacable expression on her face, Sydney stepped forward and out of the way, bringing her even closer.

“Lieutenant Stevens,” Rafe acknowledged.

She crossed her arms. “It’s curious how you found security footage at the very last hour before the trial.”

“Curious and very fortunate,” Rafe agreed.

“I find it especially curious that you could find security footage at all. When the police attempted to obtain it, they found that the night guard had accidently turned all the electronic feeds off. All of them.”

“All but one, Lieutenant,” Rafe corrected her.

Sydney nodded. “All but one,” she repeated. She glanced at Alex, spearing him with her direct gaze, before looking back at Rafe. “It is also very curious how with every case you’re involved in, Mr. De Leon, evidence appears or disappears in a manner that favors your clients.”

“Are you accusing me of evidence tampering, Lieutenant? Because I should point out that it was Brixton who screwed this up for you, not a fortuitous appearance of evidence. If Brixton had followed procedure, then we would be swearing in jurors right now.”

Sydney considered him for a moment. “There’s something odd about both of you,” she said, her voice low. “I don’t know what it is. It’s like my accident…nothing adds up to a sensible answer.”

“Your accident?” Rafe asked politely.

She straightened up and dropped her arms. “This isn’t over, Mr. De Leon.” She glanced at Alex. “Until I understand exactly what is going on, this doesn’t end.” She brushed past Rafe and strode past Alex. He caught her scent, the commercial one, and underneath, the lemony-vinegar smell of her fury.

Rafe turned to watch her go and for the first time since Alex had arrived, he looked at him directly. “I’m beginning to see why you like her.” But he didn’t smile. Instead he turned back to his papers and started stuffing them into his briefcase, before Brody interrupted by thrusting out his hand toward him as a thank you.

Veris rested his hand on Alex’s shoulder, forcing him to look away from the door where Sydney was slipping through, to look at him. Veris wasn’t smiling. “Need to talk, Alex?” he asked softly.

Alex shook his head. “Thank you, but no.”

Taylor leaned around Veris. “We’re having an impromptu party to celebrate. Please come over.”

“I don’t think I—”

Veris shook him, where his hand still rested on his shoulder, big and heavy. “Yes, you will, whether you want to or not. Solitude isn’t the answer. Come and hug Marit and the twins and relax for a while. Then we’ll let you go home and brood, if you still want to by then.”

Alex sighed. Just do the next thing, he told himself. So he forced a smile. “Thank you. I would enjoy that.”

“Liar,” Veris said. “But we’ll change your mind.”

Chapter Eleven

It turned out that Veris was right. For the next week, the three of them held Alex a virtual hostage in their house and it seemed that there was always someone in the room with him. Veris or Brody even went hunting with him when he needed to feed. With no time to spare to think, Alex found that talking was the only way to sort through the morass of feelings. Most nights, while Taylor slept and either Veris or Brody kept her company, the other would sit with Alex and he would talk. Neither of them offered judgment. Neither of them condemned him, or defended him. They just listened.

It was cathartic in a way Alex had never experienced before. Unburdening one’s soul was something that he had always done in private, between him and God, but he hadn’t reached out to God for a very long time. The release that talking gave him was different, but it had the same effect. He could feel himself unwinding.

It also gave him an insight into why Brody and Veris had stayed together for such a very long time. Total acceptance was a rare quality and both of them had it.

Although Alex found no insights during his week with the three, he did find a different sort of peace. An accepting one.

At the end of the week, Alex politely declined their urging that he stay as long as he liked. He went back home, dressed for work and drove to the hospital. It was time to start living again.

It was a beautiful September day. The leaves were starting to turn, but hadn’t fallen yet, and the temperature wasn’t staggeringly hot. So Alex chose to park his car in the public parking lot on the other side of the hospital and stroll to the hospital, instead of taking the indoor route via his staff parking space. There was a park just on the other side of the parking lot, with lots of old trees and shady spots and he wandered to the hospital side of the park from the parking lot, taking the meandering paths.

Deep barking didn’t at first draw his attention, for lots of owners bought their dogs here. There was an off-leash area on the far side. But when the barking grew closer, Alex looked up. He knew that voice.

Bruce was thundering toward him, his tongue out, his shaggy coat flapping as he ran at full gallop.

Alex caught his front paws as Bruce leapt up and tried to lick his face. He was very pleased to see him again. In the way of dogs and cats and other animals, Bruce wouldn’t miss him until he saw him again and like now, he would simply be glad to see him.

Alex scratched his ears and assured him he was very pleased to see him too, but please sit and visit, instead of jumping up.

Bruce sat down and Alex patted his head. “You are a loyal and brave and true friend,” he told him.

Then he looked up, to spot where Sydney was. But it wasn’t Sydney heading in his direction. It was Rafe.

Rafe was slowing down to a walk, Bruce’s leash in his hand. He had clearly been running to catch Bruce.

A long way behind him, Sydney had come to a halt on the path. As Alex looked, she brought both hands up to cover her mouth. Horror. Or something like it.

Alex looked back at Rafe, at the rueful look in his face. Coupled with Sydney’s expression, it told the full story.

He didn’t make a decision. He didn’t think at all. He turned around and headed back for the car.

* * * * *

When Rafe reached where Sydney was standing waiting, with Bruce in tow, she gripped his arm. “Oh God, Rafe!”

“I know,” he said quietly, patting Bruce’s head. He looked up at her and the expression in his black eyes was bleak. “You said he hasn’t been working, or I would never have suggested we bring Bruce here.”

“His parking space is on the other side of the hospital grounds,” Sydney said. “And he wasn’t working. I didn’t think he would want to, especially not after….” She bit her lip. “Rafe, it looked like someone had shot him!”

“Should we have sneaked around? Stayed inside forever, never to be seen together in public?” Rafe looked just as distressed. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yes, we did,” Sydney said woodenly. “We just hurt Alex in the worst way.”

Rafe pulled her to him, and kissed her. “I’ll take you two home,” he said. “Then I’ll come back tomorrow and we’ll put this behind us.”

She laid her hand on his chest. “You’re not going to stay tonight?” she asked.

Rafe gave her a weak smile. “Do you really want me to, now? Do you honestly think you could enjoy yourself, after this? I can only go for the jugular in court, Sydney. I don’t think I could make love to you tonight.”

Sydney shook her head. “I can’t, either,” she whispered.

Rafe turned her around in his arm, so that he was holding her shoulders and they started back toward the off-leash area. Bruce trotted along beside them happily, and Sydney realized that Bruce was as well behaved with Rafe as he had been with Alex. Was it just the male gender that made the difference, or did they both have a quality she lacked when it came to controlling dogs?

“I’ll pick you up for breakfast,” Rafe said, “then I’ll drop you at work. We can talk then. Let’s take the night to put some distance on it.”

Sydney sighed. “I feel like my guts are ripped out. What must he be feeling?”

* * * * *

Once Rafe had gone, Sydney made herself some tea. She steeped it for ten long minutes, and used two teabags. She had been experimenting for a week, but nothing came close to the tea that Alex had made. This way, it was very strong, and if she didn’t go over ten minutes, it wasn’t too bitter.

She didn’t want to sit on the sofa. She felt like she had been spending her life on those cushions, lately. Instead she sat at the table and sipped her tea.

Had it really only been a week since Gallagher’s trial? It felt like months had passed. So much had happened. So much had changed.

She had walked out of the courtroom, ready to punch in walls. She evaded the media gaggle and refused to answer their questions, while Brody stood twenty yards away, bathed in lights, talking to the cameras.

She wasn’t pissed because she had lost. In a way she was glad that Alex’s friend had found a way around Brixton’s nastiness. It was Brixton and every macho ego on the force that she wanted to kill. They acted like they were Dirty Harry, playing up the excessive testosterone for invisible cameras, when they should be thinking everything through, looking at a case based on merits and facts, not what they would like the outcome to be.

Brixton had seriously embarrassed the LAPD and Sydney hoped that when he came back off medical leave—if he did—they would boot him back to uniform and onto the street where he could learn some humility.

Miracle of miracles, there was an elevator waiting when she reached them and she stepped into a half-full car just as the doors started to close. They bounced back for her, then slid obediently closed again. They were three inches from closing altogether when a hand thrust through the space and pushed back on them. They paused, then slid back again and someone in the back corner of the elevator sighed loudly.

Rayner De Leon stepped in and let the doors shut. “Sorry folks,” he said to everyone in general.

“Don’t you get to use the private entrance?” Sydney asked, just as annoyed as everyone else.

“In my own court, I do,” he said. “I have undercover parking, my own sitting room and tea supplied upon demand. Here, I’m just a peon.”

“I thought that once you became a judge, you were always a judge.”

He shifted his heavy briefcase to the other hand. “That’s generally how it goes, but judges don’t usually take on criminal cases in a lawyer capacity. I waive the right to all the perks when I sit behind the defense table.”

“Gallagher must be a very good friend, for you to give that up. Even for just one day,” she added bitterly, for this trial, the ADA had assured her, would run for weeks because of its complexity.

“He is a very good friend,” De Leon said. He turned to face her. “You’re not pissed at me and Alex, are you? I’m sorry, it’s just that back there in the courtroom, I thought you were about to draw your Glock and take us both out. But now, I’m not certain.”

Sydney glanced at the floor lights. “Just a moment,” she said softly, as the elevator halted and the doors opened. She stepped out and beckoned to De Leon with her finger. There was a little alcove over by where the stairs wound up to the next floor, that was bare of people and she walked over to that and turned to face him.

De Leon parked his briefcase on the ground and straightened, looking at her curiously.

“I thought it would be better speak without eavesdroppers,” Sydney said.

“Always,” he agreed, with a small smile. The smile was a nice one, flashing white teeth that contrasted with his olive skin.

“I would like to shoot both of you,” Sydney said truthfully. “Well, I did, for a while. You’re right, I’m not pissed at you because you got the case dismissed.”

He tilted his head to look at her. It was something that Alex did and Sydney caught her breath. “You’re pissed at your colleagues,” he said. “The ones that screwed up and made you look foolish in there.”

“I feel foolish on a daily basis,” Sydney told him. “But never when I’m representing the LAPD. But otherwise, you’re right. Yes. I want to knock heads together. Maybe even take out my Glock.”

De Leon’s smile broadened. Then it faded. “You and Alex aren’t together any more, are you? I’m sorry, I know that’s a personal question, but you wouldn’t even look at him in court.”

“Neither would you,” Sydney pointed out.

“Did you…did it not work out because of me?” he asked. There was a note in his voice that told Sydney that the question was very important to him.

“You still care about him, don’t you?” she asked, figuring it out as she spoke. “You don’t want to think you fucked up his love life.”

De Leon looked down at the ground for a moment, then at her. “You’re very perceptive.”

“I’m a detective for a reason,” she said gently. “It wasn’t you. I had to move on for reasons of my own.”

He was studying her closely again. “Then you still care for him, too,” he said slowly. Before she could lie in response, he added, “You were the reason I walked away.”

Sydney sucked in a shocked breath.

De Leon lifted his hand. “Relax. It ended up that you were just an excuse – a damn fine one. It turns out that I’m a coward, Lieutenant Stevens. Until I met Alex I hadn’t…been with anyone for a very long time. I thought he would be a passing thing. But he wasn’t. Not at all. I got scared. So when I saw him with you, my subconscious grasped for the escape hatch with both hands.”

Sydney cleared her throat. The proper thing to say now would be to point out that he was over-sharing in some gentle way. But it didn’t feel like he was a stranger blurting out secrets of the heart to another stranger.

“Me, too,” she heard herself saying.

“You’re not a coward,” De Leon said firmly.

“I meant, about it being a very long time.”

They both looked at each other.

“Thank you for telling me this,” Sydney said. “It helps. Except that now I feel bad for Alex.”

“Me, too.” De Leon grimaced. “But I’ve burned my bridges. Alex doesn’t give second chances. He never needs them himself.” He picked up the briefcase and held out his hand. “I appreciate your candor, Lieutenant.”

She shook his hand, feeling strength in his grip, but he didn’t bear down on her hand like many men would.

* * * * *

That might have been the end of it, except that Sydney kept running over the conversation, adding in what she knew from her end. Now she understood why Alex had looked so wretched that day. He had let his heart get caught up over De Leon. She couldn’t blame him for that at all. De Leon was a nice man. Considerate, loyal to his friends and smart, into the bargain.

But it made her wonder why she and Alex had gotten together at all. Had she bullied her way into his arms, the way she was sometimes accused of bulldozing suspects? Why had Alex pursued her all those months? And why had she ever considered opening herself up to this sort of heartache? She had known from the start that it probably wouldn’t end well.

That just made her selfish.

She didn’t like that conclusion, although no matter how she looked at it, she kept coming back to the same conclusion and hating herself a little bit more.

So when De Leon phoned and asked her out to dinner, she said yes without hesitation. Anything to get away from her four walls and her self-flagellation. Besides, De Leon knew Alex as well, if not better, than she did.

* * * * *

He insisted she call him Rafe. “Rafael is my middle name,” he explained. “My family all calls me Rafe and my mother called me Rafael when she was pissed at me. It seems appropriate that you call me that, too, as you share my mother’s need to bring me down a notch or two.” His smile was almost dazzling. Damn, he was a fine-looking man.

He took her to a tiny bistro on Venice Beach. There were only about six tables, and they were all small. The single waitress spoke English badly and Rafe switched over to Spanish and after consulting with Sydney, ordered for them. “I hope you don’t mind if I barely eat,” he said once the waitress had gone. “I forgot, when I asked you out, that I had a big lunch meeting with the Bar Association. I’m stuffed to the gullet.” He gave her another warm smile. “Besides, the food isn’t why I asked you out.”

“Why did you ask me?” she asked curiously.

He poured her a glass of the wine and filled his. “This will sound stupid,” he warned.

She waited.

He looked awkward. “You know Alex.” He blew out his breath. “And you know about me and Alex. There aren’t too many people who do, and you’re the only one who would understand how it was with him.”

Sydney sighed. “Then you’re not interested in my hot body and steaming mind?”

Rafe pressed his lips together. “Will you take out your Glock if I say I have a passing interest in the first?”

“What about the second?” she asked.

“Your mind just intimidates me,” he said flatly, and Sydney laughed.

She leaned forward, so she could drop her voice a little. “I have a passing interest in your…” She hesitated.

“You can’t stop now,” he complained.

“Your ass,” she said shortly and pressed her lips together. Why was she doing this? Why was she flirting with a danger she had just escaped from in the most horrible way? Had Alex really opened Pandora’s Box and now it could never be closed again?

But Rafe had lifted his glass and sipped, smiling. “You’re not the first to notice my ass,” he assured her. “Perhaps I’ll be able to sell you on the rest of me, but if it’s my ass that gets you to the table, then I’ll work with that.”

Sydney found she was smiling, too.

Later, as the meal progressed, she realized that it wasn’t just Rafe’s ass that intrigued her. They were arguing law. Rafe had an interest in criminal law although as an appeals judge he rarely got to work with it. As he started quoting from Hinkley’s insanity plea, which Sydney already knew backward, she noticed the soft flesh over his throat and the thick muscles there. She had been watching his wrists all night and the beginning of his forearms, where he had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. There was heavy muscle there. Not body-builder thickness, but strong.

He had thick brows and thicker lashes, which might have made his face effeminate, except that his jaw was square and solid.

By the time the waitress came with the bill, Sydney knew he had sold her on the rest of him and he hadn’t done a thing except talk.

She was so screwed.

* * * * *

Rafe had dropped her at home that night and made no attempt to kiss her, or even hint that he might like to. Sydney tossed in her bed, feeling a rare frustration. It didn’t help that only a few days ago, she had experienced the best sex of her life. Now she wanted more of it.

But the risks…!

What if…what if she controlled the risks? Minimized them? Perhaps there was a way she could have both safety and sex.

But she was trying to rationalize it. She couldn’t have both. Didn’t Alex prove that? Didn’t the last twelve years of peace and security absolutely prove she could not have both?

Then she rolled over and thumped her pillows and settled herself down again. Sleep, she told herself and sighed.

When her phone buzzed she was almost grateful for the interruption to her thoughts. Sleep was as far away as it had ever been. Her heart leapt when she saw it was Rafe.

“Were you sleeping?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Pretending to,” she admitted.

“I can’t get you out of my mind.”

Her pulse zoomed and she felt prickly and hot all over. “My steaming mind?”

“All of you,” he breathed. “I want to inhale you and breathe nothing else.”

She caught herself before she agreed and held silent. What to do? What to do? She wanted him. But…the risks!

“Sydney?”

She swallowed. “It’s complicated, Rafe.”

“What’s complicated? I want to take you to bed and make love until you can’t stand up.” This time, he was the one to pause. “I won’t lie and pretend it’s anything else, Sydney. I’m still…Alex is still too close.”

That was how she could have both. Her heart leapt. “I wish you were here right now,” she whispered.

He drew in a breath that sounded shaky. “Open your front door.”

Sydney almost leapt from the bed, startling Bruce on his mat in the corner, and ran to the front door and threw it open.

Rafe put his phone away. She couldn’t see his face properly in the dark, but she didn’t care. She threw her arms around him and he shut the door behind them and lifted her off her feet. “Where’s the bed?” he said, his voice hoarse.

She pointed and he carried her into the bedroom and laid her down on the bed.

Sydney tugged at his shirt. “Get rid of this.”

He pulled at the short sleeved pajama top she was wearing. “You, too.”

“You, first.”

Rafe stood up again and undressed more swiftly than she thought possible. In the moonlight coming through the window, he looked tanned. His flesh was sleek and smooth over the muscles. Sydney dropped her gaze to his cock and her heart squeezed. He was already stiff.

She yanked her pajama top over her head, not bothering with the buttons, and tossed it to one side. She curled her legs up under one hip and as Rafe studied her, her nipples crinkled. She suddenly ached to have his mouth on them, his hand between her legs. “Come here,” she demanded.

Rafe slid onto the bed and stopped in front of her, sitting on his knees. “No, you come here.” He picked her up by her waist. “Put your knees around me,” he told her.

Sydney spread her knees, liking the way it opened her up. Rafe lowered her down, right onto his cock. He pushed up inside her and Sydney caught her breath. This was exactly what she wanted. It was so, so good. She moaned as he came to rest inside her and gripped his shoulders, holding on to him.

He resettled his grip on her waist. “Now, what do you want?” And he nipped one of her nipples, making her gasp and squirm.

“Fuck me,” she begged.

“That’s not what you want,” he said, his voice low and crooning. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want to come until I can’t come anymore.”

“That’s better.” He began to thrust into her and she could feel his hips and his thighs working. It was good…but it wasn’t enough. Her clit was aching for attention, and she slid her hand down to cover her mound, her fingers flirting with her clit. Her knuckles were pushed up against Rafe’s stomach, and it rippled at her touch.

Curiously, she pushed her hand deeper beneath her, and felt his cock sliding into her. She spread her fingers around it, feeling the moisture from her pussy on the shaft and the silky flesh.

“That feels…interesting,” he said, breathing hard.

Sydney brought her hand back up to her swollen clit and this time, she pushed her fingertips up against it, letting the movement of Rafe’s stomach against her knuckles make her fingers stroke in time with his thrusting. Her orgasm leapt and she began to shake. She was so close to coming!

Rafe’s fingers were touching her pussy, teasing the entrance, and in comparison to what his cock was doing to her, it was a delicate touch that nevertheless made her nerves sizzled. Her climax gathered, and her clit pounded in response.

Then Rafe pulled his fingers backward through her cleft, the fingers that had soaked up her natural lubricant. He pressed them against her anus, and one slipped inside.

Sydney threw her head back, her breath exploding out of her in a raw groan. Her climax tore through her, making her heart and her breath stop for a moment. She saw stars, dancing over her vision.

“Keep going,” Rafe told her. “Come again.”

Sydney kept stroking her clit, harder now and faster. A second climax caught fire and swiftly raged through her, as Rafe pumped into her deeper and harder. This time, he came, too, as he arched back, throwing out one hand for balance, the other gripping her hip.

They stayed in those strained positions for a moment and Sydney could feel her heart in her ears. Then Rafe lifted her off him and placed her on the mattress. A yawn caught her by surprise and it spread through her, making her stretch out her arms and snapping all her tendons taut.

Rafe pushed her hair over her shoulder. “It’s late. Why don’t you sleep? I bet you will sleep like an elephant now.” She saw his smile despite the dark.

Sydney bit her lip. “That makes me feel like I just used you as a sleeping pill.”

“Does it matter?” he asked. “It’s not like I didn’t get any fun out of it.”

“Just sex. Right.”

“Just sex. Exactly.” He patted her pillow and moved out of the way. “Come on. Your eyes are already drooping.”

They were. Now that the fizz of the climax had dissipated, she could feel her body trying to shut down on her. Her thoughts were foggy. She realized she was lying down and didn’t remember deciding she would do that.

The covers were pulled over her and Sydney stretched out her hand. “You don’t have to go,” she murmured.

“Sleep,” he told her. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

And he was. She woke to daylight and found Rafe curled around her from behind, his hand on her breast. His lips trailed over her neck, nuzzling. Sydney was almost instantly awake and aroused and she arched back as his fingers pulled her nipple out between them.

His lips moved over her shoulder and along her arm, then to her hip. He pulled his hand away from her breast as he licked his way over her hip, rolling it and bringing her onto her back. Then he spread her thighs, very wide apart and held them that way. “Breakfast,” he announced, and sucked her vulva into his mouth. His tongue teased her clit, stroking it, and Sydney could only roll her head and moan. Her orgasm sparkled, leaving her breathless and yet still wanting more.

But Rafe sat up decisively. “Real food,” he declared. “It’s a work day and I don’t know about you, but I have early appointments before court begins. You take the shower, I’ll get breakfast.”

“Can you cook?”

“Better than….” Rafe shut off like an ejected CD. He looked down at the floor, then drew in a breath. “I can cook,” he finished.

But he had stepped into the shower with her only a few minutes later, and pushed her roughly up against the wall and taken her from behind. This time, it was his fingers on her clit, tugging on it, and stroking hard, until she had clamped around him with a choked cry, barely staying upright. Rafe had come at the same time, groaning through his climax.

Already running late, Sydney had dressed hurriedly and rushed into the kitchenette where she could smell eggs and bacon and toast, making her stomach grumble.

Rafe wore his trousers and nothing else, and that gave her a clear view of his ass, outlined in gray silk twill, making her breath stop for a second.

He looked at her over his shoulder as he shoveled eggs and bacon onto her plate. “I can feel that,” he remarked.

“You cannot!”

He grinned. “Actually, I heard your breath stop.”

“It was the smell of breakfast,” she lied. “I’m starving.”

He put the plate on the little table in the corner, which was barely big enough for two people to sit at. It meant he had to reach around her and she leaned back as he leaned over her. He looked into her eyes. “I could help stimulate your appetite. You’ll enjoy it so much more.”

She swallowed.

“Should I take the lack of protest as a yes?”

Sydney made herself nod.

He had whipped away the plate, turned her and bent her over the table, then pushed her skirt up over her hips. The panties were pulled down to her knees, and he pushed into her in one long stroke, making her choke and gasp. As he thrust his cock swiftly and deeply, his fingers found her clit once more.

They had come together, after which Rafe had restored her clothing with gentle movements.

His plate was already draining in the second sink and for a moment, Sydney felt an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. But her rumbling stomach pulled her out of it and she ate hungrily while Rafe got dressed.

He had squeezed her shoulder as he moved over to the front door and opened it. “Sorry to run out like this, but I’m horribly late and I want to change suits. My assistant has sharp eyes.”

“It’s fine,” Sydney assured him. And it was. This was a rare moment of perfection. Her body was satiated and her heart was safe.

“Tonight?” Rafe asked, the door open.

“Yes, please.”

* * * * *

Rafe turned up every night that week. Sometimes they went out. Sometimes they stayed in. But every night ended with sex. When Rafe learned that she liked anal sex, he became even more inventive, bringing toys to torture her with. She fell asleep most nights exhausted and her body quivering with the aftermath of the most powerful orgasms she had ever experienced. But the next morning she would awaken and be eager for more.

And Rafe would be there, willing to accommodate her need.

She thought about him during work hours. Unbidden, sexy images of his strong body, or his lips doing wicked things to her, or his dark eyes, caught in a moment of mirth, glowing with good humor. His flashing smile. The way he made her feel whenever he touched her.

On Thursday night, he arrived late, close to ten. “I’m sorry. Such is the life of a judge. I had to write my decision and it was a bastard case.” He pushed his hand through his wavy black hair, clearly frustrated.

Because it was so late, Rafe had insisted Sydney stay on the sofa and continue reading. He plucked her copy of Parallel Lives off the shelf and settled next to her. “Plato is good for a chuckle,” he told her. “It’s been a while since I indulged.”

They had stayed on the sofa reading once before, so Sydney settled back into the treatise on ancient Norway, shutting out everything around her for it was a heavy duty text. After a while, she looked up to clear her head and mentally breathe.

Rafe was watching her.

Sydney stared back. It seemed perfectly natural that he should be sitting on the other end of her sofa. It felt nice. The last week had been one of rare contentment for her. Perhaps that was why she put the book aside, then moved across the sofa toward him. His arm was lying across the back of the sofa, the other had been holding the book, but it lay open on his knee now.

She put the book on the floor, then leaned even closer to him. Before her lips touched his, she hesitated.

Rafe’s hand caught her head and drew her against him. Their lips met and they kissed. It was a powerful kiss, one that left her breathless and aching for more.

Rafe got to his feet and picked up her hand and took her into the bedroom. There, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her once more. His kisses were heady, making her languorous and weak. He didn’t stop kissing her, even as he laid her on the bed and stripped her of clothing. Not until he slid into her did he stop and even then, as he strained above her, his hips working, his lips would brush hers.

He didn’t seem to want to stop kissing her and that was fine by Sydney. His kisses were like a drug.

And so the week slipped into Saturday, a cooler day with the hint of fall. It had been Rafe’s idea to treat Bruce to a romp in a dog park, for Bruce had been neglected all week by both of them.

Bruce had been bouncing with joy, bowling over other dogs with his happiness, and running back to nuzzle their hands as they watched him play. Even as they stood there in public, Rafe picked up her hand and kissed it.

Then Bruce took off, a hundred pounds worth of dog on a mission. He barked joyfully and streaked across the park and through the gate and out into the larger park area before either of them could react. Rafe was quicker to respond. While Sydney was still wondering what had got into the dog, Rafe broke into a sprint, pounding after Bruce, the leash in his hand.

Alarmed, but still wondering what on earth was going on, Sydney followed. She had rounded the graceful curve in the path just in time to see Bruce jump up and greet Alex nose to nose.

Alex.

Dismay spread through her, making her feel sick, as she watched him look from Rafe to her. Of course he figured it out. Of course there had been no way to hide it from him and spare him the truth.

Sydney finished the last dregs of her now-cold tea, put the cup aside and pressed her hot face into her hands. Now, even Rafe did not want to be with her.

But it was the look on Alex’s face that she kept coming back to. They had hurt him in perhaps the cruelest way in existence. The worst of it was that there was nothing they could do to take it back. Rafe had known that before she did.

There was something that she could do, though. It would mean beggaring herself and risking wrath, but she would do it. For Alex.

She unpacked the copies of non-secure papers she had left over from the Gallagher case, found what she was looking for and dialed the number.

“Hello?” The voice was gruff, not melodious, like Gallagher’s was.

“Is this, um, Veris Gerhardsson?” She found the name, where she had scribbled it in the margins of the sheet in front of her.

There was a tiny silence. “I know your voice,” Gerhardsson said. “Lieutenant Stevens,” he added.

“I’m not on duty. It’s just Sydney.”

“If you’re not on duty, then my curiosity just doubled,” Gerhardsson said.

“It’s about Alex.”

“You have my full attention, Sydney.”

She took a deep breath and began.

Chapter Twelve

Alex still couldn’t find Marit’s long hall. He had the feeling he had been looking a long time, but it felt like he had just begun. Beyond his perception, he could sense there was a very large world to explore, but first he wanted to find Marit again. He wanted to ask her to explain more about the danger he was to face.

Besides, he didn’t want to go home, either. It was peaceful here. Nothing really bothered him, if he didn’t want it to.

But there was something ahead. Beckoning. He couldn’t really see it, but it called to him like a magnet to filings. He was supposed to go there and so he leaned toward it. Suddenly he was there.

It was a room he recognized. Captain Baker’s room at the precinct. Sydney’s precinct. She was there, standing right in front of him. She was facing Baker as he sat behind his desk and there were two other lieutenants in the room. The door was closed.

Alex moved around them, until he was behind the captain’s desk and could see Sydney’s face. Something shifted inside him as he looked at her. She was so beautiful! Even with her face drawn into an angry scowl she was a delight.

No one appeared to be able to see him. He had come upon other places in this gray world and seen other people, but the only person who had ever been able to see him and speak to him had been Marit. He held no fear now, as he stood beside the captain and listened.

“He made us all look like fools!” Sydney raged. “Miranda rights are drilled into the youngest rookie. Everyone knows how to issue them. And to fuck up with such a high profile public figure!”

“Now, Lieutenant, we’ve all made mistakes from time to time, even you,” the captain said.

“This wasn’t a failure to sign a warrant, Captain! He made the whole case implode inside five minutes just because he couldn’t keep his goddam dick out of it.”

The other two lieutenants snickered, but the captain grew red in the face. “Lieutenant Brixton works a hard line, we all know that. But he’s a good, honest cop. It was just our bad luck the perp had an appeals judge in his pocket. Those fellows know constitutional law backward, sideways and through to Sunday.”

“Our bad luck?” Sydney repeated. “Captain, we would still be swearing in a jury right now if Brixton hadn’t been so in love with his own ego and forgotten basic police work.”

“I’ve heard your complaint, Lieutenant Stevens. Thank you, that will be all.” The captain’s face was closed off. Alex knew Sydney would get nothing out of him now. Apparently, so did Sydney. She straightened, almost as if she was at attention. “Sir, I intend to file a report with Internal Affairs.”

The captain stared at her for a long moment. “Knock yourself out, Lieutenant,” he said finally.

Sydney nodded and left the room, shutting the door behind her. Alex wanted to follow her out, but the three in the room exchanged glances, with expressions that made him stay right where he was.

“You’re going to let her talk to I.A., Captain?” the Irish-looking one with the pug nose asked.

The captain sighed and brushed his hand back and forth through his crew cut. “I can’t stop her. Everyone has a right to talk to those pricks whenever they want. She didn’t even have to tell me.”

“Her mistake,” Pug Nose said softly.

The captain looked at him.

“Something needs to be done about her,” Pug Nose added.

The captain threw his pen down and tugged at his jacket. “Now, I don’t know…”

“Quietly,” Pug said. “Very quietly.”

The other lieutenant, a bald black man, spoke for the first time. “I can take care of that.”

The captain looked at him. “You have something on her?”

The black man opened his mouth and the captain’s hand shot up. “No. I don’t want to know what it is.”

“Does that mean you want me to take care of it?” the black man asked.

The captain blew out his cheeks with a gusty sigh. “Yes,” he said finally. “Goddamn it, yes. Get her out of my precinct, one way or another. Just don’t let it come back in any way. If Internal Affairs knocks on my door, I’ll know exactly who to point to.”

The black man grinned. “There’s no way anyone will see this coming,” he said.

Alex leapt across the room, leaning in the way that would make him move faster. Doors were no barriers in this world. He had to find Sydney. He had to warn her.

But she wouldn’t see him here. She wouldn’t hear him.

He threw himself upward, spiraling up like a swimmer straining for the surface. In a way, he was reaching for the surface. It was faster than trying to go back, because retracing his route never brought him to where he had started.

He burst through the surface, with almost a popping sound and gasped aloud, sitting up. He looked around.

Veris was crouched in front of him, a syringe in his big hand. Brody was sitting on the edge of a dining chair, just behind him. When Alex looked at him, Brody sat back with a heavy sigh. “Thank the fucking Lord.”

Taylor came hurrying into the room. “I couldn’t find saline. Will common table salt do, Veris?”

Veris stood up and tossed the syringe onto the table. “I don’t think we’ll need it now.”

Alex looked around at the three of them. “What are you doing here?”

Veris settled himself on the edge of the table and crossed his arms, making the muscles ripple. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“We’ve been so worried, Alex,” Taylor added. “Veris didn’t think you’d come out of it.”

Alex pushed on the carpet to try to get up and fell back, surprised, as his muscles didn’t cooperate. He had been sitting on the dining room floor, his back against the wall. For a moment he was thankful he wasn’t naked. He had outgrown the irritation that his clothing delivered. But when he tried to get up again, he couldn’t.

“You’ve been out for a while. ‘Out’,” Brody repeated slowly, “I don’t know what else to call it.”

“Idiocy is a good name.” Veris picked up the pile of papers on the table. “What on earth did you think you were doing, Alex?

“You’ve read them all?” he asked.

“And the real files on your laptop,” Veris said.

“How long have you been here?” Alex asked. His time sense was completely distorted. He couldn’t sense what time it was now.

“Four days,” Taylor said softly. She pulled out one of the dining chairs and sat in it, her hands held tightly together. “Well, mostly Veris has been, trying to figure out what you did to yourself.”

“Four days…” Alex shook his head. “It’s never been this long before.”

“I found your logs, too,” Veris said. “You’ve been experimenting on yourself for over a year. Ever since you threw in the towel on God. It’s like we don’t know you anymore.”

“This wasn’t a fancy form of suicide, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Alex said. He tried to get up again and swore. “If someone could help me into the kitchen, there’s a pint of blood in the fridge.”

Taylor stood up. “I’ll get it.”

Veris reached out his hand and Brody moved a chair around next to him as Alex took the offered hand. Then Veris hoisted him up and lowered him onto the chair. Taylor came hurrying back with the blood bag and held it out to him. “I’ll wait in the living room.”

“Stay,” Veris growled. “Alex can fucking well feed with an audience. I have a few things to say.”

Alex sighed and bit into the bag. The blood fever didn’t overwhelm him for he was too wasted for that. This sort of muscle stiffness was something he remembered from when he was human. He drank slowly. Even cold, the blood spread warmth through him and he could feel the kinks unwinding.

“Can you hear me?” Veris asked. His voice boomed, but was perfectly clear. Alex nodded.

“I read all your research, but the logs of your trials are the alarming stuff. If you put together the drug’s potential effects on the brain with your notes on the trials…are you aware that you’ve been very nearly on the verge of self-induced seizures?”

The hunger was starting to fade, letting him think better. Alex shook his head. “No.”

“The feeling of some impending event…something coming, something exciting. You’re describing classic petit mal seizures, reported by thousands of sufferers. It’s called Jamais vu.”

“I’m an internist,” Alex pointed out. “Not a neurologist.”

“Then why the fuck are you messing with this?” Veris cried and threw the papers back on the table with a thump.

“Veris,” Brody said softly.

“No, I won’t take it easy on him. He’s a fucking doctor of medicine, he should know better!”

Alex straightened up in the chair. His sight was returning to human normal now that he had fed enough. “The seizure symptoms subsided once I learned how to avoid stirring them. Then the other events started happening.”

“Events?” Brody repeated and looked at Veris.

Veris shook his head. “I have no idea what he’s talking about.”

“I have been travelling to different places. Some I know. Some I don’t.”

Veris leaned on the table with both fists clamped tight and gave a deep sigh.

“Astral projection?” Taylor asked.

“That’s the stuff of fantasies,” Brody said.

“So is time travel,” she replied calmly.

Veris looked at her, then he straightened up. “Okay. Your notes are not complete, clearly.”

“I’ve been distracted lately,” Alex said.

“We know,” Brody said. “Why do you think we’re here?”

Alex looked at them, puzzled.

“Sydney phoned us,” Taylor said. Hers was the only voice in the room that wasn’t angry to one degree or another.

Sydney. Alex tried to get up out of the chair but his muscles were still not cooperating. “She’s in trouble,” he told them. “I have to warn her.”

“You’re not going anywhere for at least twenty-four hours,” Veris told him flatly.

“You don’t understand. I saw her when I was there, when I was out. They’re plotting something.”

“What do you mean you saw?” Brody demanded.

Veris held up his hand. “No, we’re not going to pick at this piece meal. Taylor, are you hungry? Is there anything here you can eat?”

Taylor stood up. “I should go home. It’s getting late. I’ll see to the kids.” She kissed Veris quickly and Brody, too, then surprised Alex by kissing his cheek. “Take care,” she murmured.

Veris sat on the chair she had been using. “Okay, so start from the top. Tell us everything. Including why on earth you started this insane project.”

Alex sighed. “It could take a while,” he warned them.

“We have the time,” Veris said dryly. “Start talking.”

* * * * *

It did take a while. It took two more days. Brody soon grew weary of it, for only Veris could follow the chemical equations as Alex spelled them out to him. Taylor came and went, checking on them, but not bothering them with demands they return home or that the children missed them.

Brody remained in the house, although he did not always stay in the room. He would come back in and listen to the conversation for a few minutes, stay if he felt like it, or leave. There was only one time he did leave the house, and that was to feed.

Alex found the stiffness left him after a few hours and he was able to stand up and move around. That made things easier, for he could pull out notes and references as he explained.

Veris pulled over a blank pad of paper and began to write notes of his own. Not very often, so Alex assumed he was building a high level summary.

Finally, Alex ran out of things to say. He sat in the chair again and leaned forward, letting his hands hang loosely between his knees.

Veris stared at the pad in front of him, also silent.

Brody came into the room. “Silence, at last,” he said. “What’s the verdict?”

“Speaking of which, Brody, you were a lawyer, once. Why didn’t you know about the Miranda thing?”

“I was a solicitor in England,” Brody said. “Anyway, I do know the Miranda act now, but I don’t remember much about that night. It was just as big a surprise to me as everyone else. I don’t even remember being read my rights in the first place.”

“How can that be?” Alex said, marveling. “Our memories are pure.”

“Assuming you form the memories in the first place,” Veris said, his tone distant. He was concentrating on his notes. “Brody was overloaded with adrenaline and his perceptions were completely screwed. I don’t think he could have told you what century he was in, that night.”

Brody shrugged. “I think I was actually back in the fifth century for a bit. In my head, anyway.”

Veris sat up. “Damn! Brody, you’re brilliant.” He pulled the pad around so it was square in front on him. “Yes, of course!” He looked up at Alex. “I think you’ve created the chemical equivalent of a time travel pill.”

Alex stared at him. “I’m not a physicist.”

“I’m a good jackleg physicist and I want to work out the physics later, but this isn’t a physical thing. Brody, remember Tira said she had time travelled? She called it a sharing of memories.”

“Which is what we figured that the three of us did the first couple of times, until Taylor really got the hang of flipping whatever switch it is in her head,” Brody said in agreement.

“This serum Alex has developed was to counteract a sedative that is powerful enough to knock out vampires. The serum stimulates the brain and results in an electrical storm, with synapses firing wildly. That’s exactly what happens to the brain during a seizure. But with a higher doze, Alex moved past the seizures mode and turned on more and more areas. He was temporarily increasing the capacity the brain had to work with. There’s been research on this. When a human’s brain capacity is increased beyond the standard ten percent nearly all of us use, then some of the abilities that appear are the stuff of science fiction. Mind reading, telekinesis, super computer-like computational skills…and this was from switching on a mere one percent more.”

Brody leaned forward. “That is what Alex has been doing? On his own?”

Veris tapped the pad in front of him. “He spoke with Marit and he saw Sydney. Marit…well, let’s leave that problem for another day and work on the baseline. Alex saw places and events that he has never seen before.”

“In his mind, sure,” Brody said.

“It was too real,” Alex said quietly. “Too detailed. Memory recall, even ours, is fuzzy around the edges because we weren’t looking at those details when the memory is made. So the memory is like looking through a fish eye lens. These places I saw, they were as detailed and felt as real as it feels standing here right now.”

Brody sat back. “So prove it.”

Veris smiled and dropped the pen on the pad and sat back, too. Now they were both looking at him expectantly.

“Prove what how?” Alex asked reasonably.

“You say you saw Sydney being threatened in her office, didn’t you?” Brody said. “So ask her if that conversation really took place.”

Alex shook his head. “You ask her. I’m not going anywhere near her.”

Veris stood up. “You’re going to let both of them influence your life even when they’re not here. Alex, this search for meaning has got to stop.”

“No, Veris,” Brody said softly. “Not now.”

“What not now?” Alex demanded.

“You’ve been lost for over a year, sunk into a hole that no one seems to be able to pull you out of, including yourself,” Veris said. “You’re looking for the meaning of life, your purpose, like it’s a chest buried on a desert island somewhere and if you can only find the map, you’ll be happy. Happy doesn’t work that way.”

“I know what will make me happy,” Alex said and his heart lurched.

“Kids don’t provide meaning,” Veris shot back. “A family doesn’t guarantee happiness. You have to find it yourself or you’ll fuck up your life and theirs by expecting them to make your life better. You have to look after yourself, first.”

“And confronting Sydney about an event that might or might not have happened, that I have no earthly right knowing that it happened at all…that is looking after myself?” Alex said.

“No,” Brody said quietly. “You confront Sydney and find out that the world doesn’t fall apart and crumble if you can’t have her.”

Alex hung his head. “Damn,” he muttered. “You’re really going to make me do this?”

“No, you’re going to do it because it’s the only way to prove you saw something that actually happened,” Veris said flatly. “If you don’t prove this, then you’re demonstrating instead that you’re just another junkie who likes to disappear inside his own head. A very gifted and creative one, but an addict, just the same.”

Alex considered Veris. His heart was hurting from all the unaccustomed spikes and alarms it had been processing. “You do know how to cut to the chase, don’t you?”

“He hews too close,” Brody replied.

“No, don’t apologize for him,” Alex said.

Veris shrugged. “We have to take what we want, Alex. Our lives are too long, our days too many, to let others shape it for us.”

Alex stood up. “You’re right, of course.”

Veris nodded. “Want us to drive you there? Your reactions might still be slow.”

“Human slow?” Alex asked dryly. “I think I’ll survive among all the other human slow drivers out there. Besides, it’s time I started acting and stopped thinking so much.”

Chapter Thirteen

The drive to Sydney’s apartment seemed overly long and Alex knew that the effects of the serum were still with him, screwing with his perception of time, which was normally unchanging.

He had no idea what he was going to say to her. He dreaded this meeting with every fiber of his soul, and it occurred to him that this was exactly what Veris meant. Letting either Sydney or Rafe change the way he lived his life would be declaring he was spineless. Weak. Because he so badly wanted to turn the car around was exactly the reason he should do this, or forever be ruled by fear.

For him, forever was a very long time. Better to make a life he did want out of what he could have. That was what Veris had been saying. Pining after a life that would never be his and not doing anything about it was the weak way.

But when Sydney answered the door, with Bruce snuffling at the edge of it, happy to see him again, Alex felt the impact of her slam into his chest.

He loved her.

His heart shifted, hurting. She stood in front of him in the most casual of clothing; an oversized tee shirt, yoga pants and socks, none of them the least bit sexy. Her hair was pinned up on the top of her head, but locks had worked loose and were hanging around her face. Her sharp green eyes were narrowed in guarded caution…and he loved her anyway.

He made himself take the breath he needed to speak. “I’m not here about Rafe.” He kept his voice low and reasonable.

Sydney drew in a shaky breath. “You’re okay,” she breathed.

She had been worrying about him. Of course, she had phoned Veris and sent the three of them to his place to check on him.

“I’m okay,” Alex said, and tried to smile…and did smile. It was small, but it was there and it was genuine. Suddenly, he was glad he was here to reassure her and to mend things between them. “There’s something I have to ask you. It’s related to your work and it will only take a minute.”

Sydney stepped back and Bruce took the opportunity to jump up and greet him nose-to-nose. Alex scratched his ears and told him to go and sit down, and Bruce trotted over to the sofa and climbed onto his end of it. That left the doorway clear.

The compact apartment, the books, the low light over her reading chair…it was all familiar. Alex turned his back on them and faced Sydney. “Rafe isn’t here? I ask,” he added hurriedly, “only because I don’t want to intrude.”

The light went out of her eyes. “Rafe hasn’t been back since…the park.”

Alex shook his head. “That’s no good. Would you like me to talk to him?”

Sydney’s eyes filled with tears and Alex cupped her chin. “What is it?” he asked, alarmed.

“I love him,” she whispered. “Or I thought I did. I’ve been sick all week because I thought I had fallen in love with him, but now you’re here in front of me and I…oh, I don’t know!” Her tears fell and she dashed them away with the back of her hand.

Alex pulled her into his arms. “Shh…” He tried not to notice the softness of her hair and her body against him, or her scent. She was upset and that was making his chest ache. Whatever it was, he had to fix this for her. “It’s all right, Sydney. Whatever it is, it will be all right.”

“No.” She shook her head, her chin rubbing against his chest. “It can’t be all right.”

“Time fixes everything. That is something I know from long experience. You just have to give things time.”

She put her arms around him and Alex steeled himself against the need to kiss her, or do anything that would make her hate him. Instead, he offered what comfort he could. “I’ll go and see Rafe,” he told her. “Perhaps I might even sock him in the jaw for upsetting you. If he knows I’m okay, then he’ll come back to you. He’s just feeling guilty.”

“We are guilty!” she cried. “Alex, we didn’t intend…it wasn’t…oh, this is such a mess!” Her arms tightened around him.

“It is what it is,” Alex told her. “You want him back, don’t you?”

After a moment, she nodded.

“Then hold on to that thought. Come and sit down. Come on.”

He led her over to the sofa and Sydney sat in the corner and wiped her face with the hem of her tee shirt. “God, I’m so sorry,” she said, looking up at him with still sparkling eyes.

“Would you like something? Water?” Alex asked. Anything but stand there looking down at her when she was so vulnerable and open.

“I would like…would you mind making me tea, like you did that first night? I haven’t been able to make it the same way at all.”

He smiled. “Tea. That, I can do.” Gratefully, he went into the kitchenette and set about making the tea.

Sydney gave another big sniff and sighed. “You said you had something to ask me,” she said. “About work?”

Alex looked at her through the serving hatch. “I do. It’s going to sound very odd, though.”

“I hear odd and unusual every day. Usually it’s suspects spinning stories about their whereabouts. The stuff of fantasy, sometimes, but they tell it with a straight face as if that will convince us it’s the truth.” He heard her soft laugh.

“This is another sort of weird,” Alex assured her.

“Try me.”

He poured the boiling water into the tea leaves in the saucepan, then set it on the stove to come to the boil again. “Sometime since the trial ended, did you have a conversation with your captain about Brixton?”

There was a small silence. “Lucky guess, Alex?” she asked.

His chest tightened. He looked though the hatch at her again. “You did?”

Sydney frowned, as if she were weighing up her answer. “I don’t suppose it’s such a secret that I wasn’t thrilled about the way the trial went. Not that I wanted Brody charged, of course. But I stormed out of there with my mad on and Brixton was the sole reason I was mad. Yeah, I confronted Baker about it. Brixton embarrassed the department. I wanted Baker to do something about it.”

“Wait while I finish this,” Alex called, then carefully poured the boiling tea through the strainer. A touch of cream and sugar and he carried the cup out to the living room and put it on the table next to Sydney’s elbow.

She was hugging her arms against herself, as if she was cold. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m looking forward to drinking it. I enjoyed the first one so much.”

“Perhaps I’ll teach you how to make it for yourself.” He pointed to the footstool. “May I?”

She nodded and picked up the cup.

He pulled it over in front of her and sat on it. “In your conversation with Captain Baker, did you threaten to take the matter up with Internal Affairs?”

Sydney’s eyes grew very big over the top of the cup. She put it down slowly. “How did you know that?”

“I can’t say right now,” Alex told her. Damn, he should have figured out the answer to that question ahead of time. She was already on high alert. He pushed on anyway. “There were two other lieutenants in the room with you. A black man, and a man with a pug nose, that looks like it’s been at the end of too many fists.”

Sydney hugged herself again. “Jimmy Yonkers and McLeary,” she said, and her voice was hoarse. “Was there a bug in that room? Hidden surveillance? How do you know about it?”

Alex shook his head. “That’s not the important part,” he told her. He had to get her to focus on the conversation itself and not how he knew about it. “After you left the room, Sydney, the three of them discussed you.”

She gave a wry smile. “I’m the only female lieutenant in the precinct. I get talked about a lot.”

“Not this way. They conspired. Against you.”

Sydney stared at him, and now he knew she was focused properly. “To what end?” she asked, her voice even.

“I don’t know,” Alex said. “Baker told the two of them to get you out of his station. Yonkers…that’s the black man?”

She nodded.

“Yonkers said he knew of a way to deal with you that was guaranteed not to come back on any of them. The captain told him to do it.”

Sydney swallowed. “But he didn’t say what?”

“The captain didn’t want him to.”

“Plausible deniability,” Sydney said bitterly, her voice low. She picked up the cup and sipped again. Then her gaze focused on Alex. “You’re not going to tell me how you know about this, are you?”

Alex shook his head. “I just wanted to warn you.”

Sydney put the cup down and hugged herself and this time she shivered. “I knew I was unpopular at the station. I had no idea how deeply it ran.”

“What will you do?” Alex asked.

“There is nothing I can do, if you won’t tell me your source. I can’t point a finger if I can’t back it up. Internal Affairs will get pissed that I’m wasting their time. The only thing I can do is work with my guard up. If they really do make some sort of move against me, I’ll at least be ready for it.”

“I really can’t tell you,” Alex assured her. “I would, in a heartbeat, if it gave you a way to neutralize them. But I just can’t.”

Sydney nodded. “I understand.”

“You do?”

“Sure. Confidential informants, privileged information, even Homeland Security…there are so many reasons sources are hidden. I’ve learned to shrug and work around it.” She gave him a weak smile.

Her easy acceptance let Alex relax. “Good,” he said. “I’ll be happier knowing you’re watching your rear.”

Sydney sipped her tea. “This really is so good. You didn’t make yourself one.”

“You’re the patient,” Alex told her. “Or you were. You seem to have recovered nicely.”

“Is that what I’ve done? I just feel angry now. What is it about women in a man’s world that gets men so hysterical, Alex? I do my job well, I don’t pee in anyone else’s territory, and I keep my nose out of their business. So why do they act like I’m going to emasculate them if they don’t wear iron jock straps and come out with all guns blazing?”

Alex smiled at the mixed analogies. “It’s because you are good, and because you operate outside their buddy system and are still effective. You do threaten them, Sydney, but not because you’re a woman. You threaten them because you’re good. Being a woman just adds insult to the basic injury.”

She tilted her head. “You speak like you know that from past experience.”

Alex nodded, a flood of old memories prompted by her question. “I do,” he told her. He could smell the Jordanian desert in his nostrils. The hot, dry smell and feel the hot air drying his skin wherever it touched him. The merciless sun that beat down endlessly. “When I was still living in the Middle East, I knew a woman who was involved in a very long war, when—”

“The Arab Israeli war?” Sydney interrupted. Of course, the history lover would want clarity.

“Yes,” Alex lied. After all, the Crusades had also been religious wars. “Naila Fathiyya was instrumental in the saving of…an entire battalion—” He had been about to say the entire crusade, but remembered to change it at the last second. “But no one remembers her name because she was a woman and her name could not be spoken aloud.”

“Naila Fathiyya,” Sydney said slowly. “Didn’t you write a book about a woman with that name? But it was from the Crusades.”

“The one I knew was named for her,” Alex lied quickly. “It’s where I got my inspiration the write the book.” He leaned forward. “The point is, Sydney, strong women always have a hard time competing in a world that is dominated by men. It doesn’t mean the fight isn’t a worthy one, or that your contribution won’t be remembered and acknowledged, even if it feels like you’re invisible right now.”

“Acknowledgement in a thousand years’ time isn’t much of a consolation,” Sydney said. “And I’m hardly invisible. Someone has a target painted on me.” She put her cup down. “I sometimes think it would be easier to just quit. Escape somewhere, like…” And she stopped suddenly and looked at him as if she had said something indiscreet.

“Everyone wants to escape, sometimes,” Alex assured her. “Look at me. I’ve been trying to escape for over a year.”

She smiled weakly. “But you didn’t. You’re still here, sitting in front of me.”

Alex’s heart gave a little start. She was gazing at him with those beautiful green eyes, and it was more than he could take. He leaned forward and kissed her…

* * * * *

It was the sun beating down on his bare head that warned him, along with the smell of the desert, which was strong and dry.

Sydney shifted in his arms, looking up at him. “Alex?” she whispered. Fear was big in her eyes. She wore a veil over her hair, but it wasn’t hooked across her face. Her gown was brushing around his ankles. She looked down at herself and up at him, and her hand shifted restlessly against his chest, over the dishdash he wore.

Over her shoulder, Alex saw the broad, clear pool of water that they had travelled three days into the desert to find. He recognized it instantly, for the memory was seared onto his brain. It was early morning and the shadows cast by a few date palms were long. Hundreds of ibex, with long spiral horns and dainty noses, were pushing toward the water.

Close by the date palms, where the shade was thickest, Taylor was just getting to her feet, a bow and arrows in her hand. She wore the knee-length chain mail Brody had insist she wear while travelling in the desert among so many enemies. Her hair was braided and coiled and she was watching the ibex.

Naila Fathiyya, Alex thought, with a mental sigh.

“Alex,” Sydney whispered. “What’s happening?” Her fear was growing.

“I think,” Alexander said, and he realized that he had slipped into medieval French without effort, “that you are supposed to say now that you’re not wearing a red shirt.”

Taylor dropped her bow and staggered forward through the sand toward them. “Alexander?” she whispered. “Is this ‘live long and prosper’?”

He gripped her wrist, trying not to alarm her. For her, this was a first time, too. “Taylor!”

“What year?” she said. “Quickly, what year is it for you?”

He told her.

Taylor squeezed his wrist with her other hand, while Sydney stood back, watching them, taking everything.

“You’re from my future,” Taylor said.

He looked around. “I came here to tell you how to shoot Ibex.” That was what he had done the first time. He had watched her line up on the ibex, then hesitate because she didn’t know where to shoot.

“I’m a jumper here myself,” Taylor said. “I don’t know how this messes with history. You need to go back.” Then she looked at Sydney, who was frowning heavily. “Alexander will explain everything,” Taylor told her. “He’ll bring you to me and I’ll explain more. You and I have a lot to talk about. You are the only other one like me I’ve ever met.”

Sydney’s eyes narrowed. “You’re speaking…English. Then what were you speaking before? Where are we?” Her eyes narrowed. “I know you. You’re the woman who lives with that rock singer.”

Alex’s heart jumped. This was dangerous. Very dangerous.

But Taylor was the first to respond. “Don’t say any more,” she told Sydney with an urgent tone. “Whatever you know about me, it’s from my future.”

Sydney’s lips parted in surprise. She turned to Alexander. “Alex?”

He tightened his arm around her. Oh…this was going to be a long conversation! But first they had to get home. “I’m going to kiss you again, Sydney, and you need to think of your apartment and tea and relaxing and going home. Then we’ll be back there again. You have to trust me for just a moment more.”

She glanced at Taylor. Taylor nodded. “He is telling you the truth. Do as he says and you’ll get home.”

Sydney nodded, looking around the oasis once more, sizing it up with a quick, sweeping glance. She pressed her full lips together. “Fine,” she said, although her voice shook.

Alexander slid his hand gently under her hair, to cup her face. He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. It was ambrosial, to kiss her again. But he made himself think of Sydney’s apartment. The low light. Bruce’s snores.

Sydney moaned under his lips, then he felt them move. It was like a giant hand had swept sideways through the air and scooped them up.

He opened his eyes, although he wasn’t aware of having closed them.

Bruce, snoring. Sydney’s cup of tea still cooling on the side table. The small pool of warm yellow light cast by the table lamp next to it.

And Sydney.

She was leaning away from him, pushing back against the back of the sofa. “What the fuck, Alex? What just happened?” Her investigator’s mind was already reaching for answers.

He stood up and dug in his pants pocket for his phone. “Do you remember what Taylor said? That she would give you answers? I’m going to call her now.”

Sydney’s hand reached for her throat. “My God, you were there, too. You saw it too.”

He hit the speed dial number and listened. “Yes, I was there,” he told her quietly. “We both were there.”

“Where?” she demanded.

“I think you know the answer to that,” Alex said.

Sydney pressed her hand to her lips. “The past?” she whispered.

Taylor answered the phone softly.

“Taylor, I think you’ve been waiting for this call for a long time,” Alex said. “Sydney and I just got back from ten ninety-nine. The desert. Do you remember?”

He heard Taylor’s indrawn breath, quick and surprised. “Yes, I have been waiting,” she said. “Sydney will want answers. Where are you? I’ll come straight away.”

Alex gave her the address and disconnected.

Sydney had picked up a pillow and was hugging it to her. “Taylor…the woman from that place. Gallagher’s wife, I think. I’m not sure if she was married to Gallagher or to…Veris. The big one.”

Alex sat back on the footstool. “Actually, she’s married to both of them.”

Sydney’s eyes widened. “And she can do…what we just did?”

Alex threaded his hands together. “It’s time travel, Sydney,” he said flatly. “Jules Verne used a chair, but we—or rather, you--can do it with your mind.”

“Me?”

“I’m presuming it is you that powers the jump.” He held up his hand. “Let’s wait for Taylor. She will be able to give you her perspective on this.” He hesitated, then decided it would be the smart thing to do, and added, “You might want to call Rafe and ask him to sit in on this. He deserves to know.”

Sydney pressed her fingertips to her temples. “He’s going to think I’ve gone crazy.”

“Maybe not,” Alex prevaricated. “Call him. And let’s wait until everyone is here. Then you can ask all the questions you want.”

“I’m going to have hundreds,” Sydney warned him, her eyes narrowed.

“I have no doubt about that at all,” Alex said.

Chapter Fourteen

Taylor arrived with Brody and Veris in tow, and Alex was deeply grateful.

“Of course we want to be here for this,” Veris told him when he tried to thank him. “This affects us all.” He turned to Sydney, who was standing uncertainly in front of her sofa. “We’ve met before, under much different circumstances. You should probably off-load everything you’ve learned about us through Brody’s arrest and start from scratch. It’ll be easier. Can I call you Sydney?”

The buzzer sounded and Alex opened the door, knowing it would be Rafe. Rafael peered past his arm holding the door open and spotted everyone in the small room, then looked at Alex. “Sydney sounded a little hysterical, but she mentioned time travel, which got me here faster than the LAPD would like.” He lifted his brow. “She was serious?”

Alex nodded. “We jumped back to Jordan during the first crusade. It’s a strong memory for me.” He pushed the door open further. “Come in. Veris is trying to be charming.”

Rafe grimaced. “I’d better save her, then.” He nodded to everyone in the room and leaned over Sydney and kissed her forehead.

Alex looked away and saw that Brody was watching him. Alex sighed.

Rafe settled on the sofa next to Sydney, pushing Bruce onto the floor at his feet. Taylor sat in the armchair next to it and Brody leaned against the arm, his long legs crossed at the ankles.

Veris pulled one of the dining chairs over to face the small group, but Alex didn’t do the same. He was feeling uneasy about how Sydney would receive everything she was going to hear and headed for the kitchen to put on the kettle to make her another cup of tea, so he wouldn’t have to look at her face, or at Rafe sitting next to her, holding her hand.

Veris started. Of course, it would be Veris who took the lead. But in this room he was probably the expert on time travel. He had studied it for years.

“There are a couple of big facts you’re going to have to face in the next little while, Sydney,” Veris said. “The first, is that all of us except for Rafe, there, have time travelled. It’s quite real and it comes with some very serious dangers.”

“Then you already know about this, Rafe?” Sydney asked.

“That’s part of the story. It’s complicated,” Rafe said.

“Yes or no? What’s complicated?” she demanded.

“Yes,” Rafe said after hesitating.

Through the hatch, he could see that Sydney had pulled her hand from Rafe’s. Alex sighed again and busied himself with the tea leaves. It was going to be long night.

* * * * *

Sydney wasn’t in the mood to believe them and Alex could understand her reluctance. Stated baldly, as Veris had done, time-travel was hard to swallow as something that was possible, especially if you spent all your life looking for facts, proof and evidence as Sydney did. She wanted to dismiss the jump that she and Alex had experienced as a collective illusion, a shared fantasy.

But Veris wore her down because he was who he was. He stayed calm and presented facts and logic only. He answered every question and he answered factually. Every now and again, Brody and Taylor would add their own thoughts, and they, too, provided straightforward observations.

Sydney started to unbend when Taylor riffed through all the languages she had worked to preserve from her travels. Ancient Celtic, which was hers and Brody’s language; Old Norse, which was the language she shared with Veris. Arabic. Even Alex was impressed with her Arabic; she spoke it like a native. He had settled himself on the edge of the table, staying more or less on his feet.

“When we were…back there,” Sydney said hesitantly, “we were speaking something other than English, until you spoke to us, Taylor. What was it?”

“You were in the year ten-ninety-nine,” Taylor said, “in the desert outside Jerusalem, where the allies were laying siege to the city.” She shifted languages again. “You were speaking medieval French.”

Sydney jumped. “I understood that!”

Taylor nodded. “You will, for a while. But the language fades, unless you work to keep it. I’ve had to let many of them go.”

Sydney was frowning, putting it all together. Everyone was watching her and Alex knew why. They were waiting for her to ask the very obvious question. Sydney was smart. She would soon notice the anomaly that Veris had slid over and she would ask about it. She wouldn’t stay overwhelmed for long.

She lifted the fresh mug of tea up to her mouth, then lowered it, her frown increasing. “Wait…” she said slowly. “You said that you could only travel back to times in your personal past, didn’t you?”

And here is the moment, Alex thought, bracing himself.

Veris nodded. “There are things that we’re still trying to figure out about how it works, but as far as we can tell, Taylor supplies the power—the push, if you like. Who she jumps with supplies the direction. The memory.” He stopped speaking.

Alex admired his strategic thinking. He had to lead Sydney through this and right up to the cliff. No need to push her over in one big leap. She would see it for herself and would accept it better that way.

Sydney put the tea down and picked up the cushion again. She glanced at Alex and he knew she had unraveled it. “But, we were at the first crusade. Alex doesn’t personally remember the first crusade.”

Alex cleared his throat. “Actually, I do.”

“So do we all,” Veris added. “We were all there.”

Again, he waited.

Sydney looked at Rafe. “Rafe?”

“Me, too, although I wasn’t anywhere near Jerusalem that year. We had our own problems in Spain.”

She was starting to shake. Alex could see her quivering from his seat at the table. “How can you possibly remember something that was nearly ten centuries ago?” she whispered.

Veris looked at Rafe. He nodded and turned Sydney’s chin so that she was looking at him directly. “That’s the second big fact that Veris spoke about a while ago, Sydney. There’s only one way we could possibly have those long memories.”

“You’re immortal?” she breathed.

“Not quite,” he said gently. “We’re vampires.”

The silence in the room was choking. The tension that gripped everyone as they waited for Sydney’s reaction was hard and anxious.

“Vampires,” Sydney repeated.

Veris leaned forward on his chair. “Don’t shy away from it,” he said sharply. “Forget everything you think you know, and take this on face value just for a moment. If you accept the hypothesis, then everything else makes sense.”

“Or one of you could just show her your fangs,” Taylor added. “By the way, Sydney, I am not a vampire. I’m just married to two of them.” She said it lightly, and Alex knew she was trying to lessen the tension.

Sydney swallowed, her throat working hard. “So, because you’ve…lived…so long, you remember back to the crusades?” she asked, and her voice was weak.

“Longer than that,” Brody said. “Blondie there was born in what would become Norway, in the sixth century. I think Alex is the baby among us. He was human, in the first crusade. That’s when we met him.”

Sydney turned her head to look at Rafe. “And you?”

Normally, vampires hated talking about how old they were, but Rafe seemed to intuit what Veris was doing, for he shrugged casually. “Sixth century Hispaniola. Spain, to you. But I met these two reprobates in Constantinople.” His tone was light, and very human.

Sydney was processing it. Absorbing it. “How did you find out how to time travel?” she asked.

Alex let out his breath and relaxed. She had accepted the two largest-to-swallow facts. Now, all that was left was to tell their stories.

Veris sat back in his chair. “Taylor, you should probably start answering that question.”

Taylor nodded, sitting forward. “But first, Alex, would you mind very much making me one of those teas you made Sydney? It smells divine.”

Alex moved happily into the kitchen to make more tea.

* * * * *

When everyone else had gone and only Rafe remained, Alex stirred from his seat at the table and stood up. “I should go.”

Sydney had her feet on the footstool and her hand on Bruce’s head. “No, stay, please. Just for a moment.” She looked at Rafe, where he sprawled in the other corner of the sofa. “You two have known each other for centuries, like Veris and Brody?”

Alex shook his head. “We only met a little over a year ago. Our lives went in different directions. I caught up with Brody and Veris a few years ago, too. Actually, Brody found me. It happens that way.”

She bit her lip. “Were you ever going to tell me you were vampires?” she asked.

Rafe’s posture didn’t move, but Alex could sense his alertness increasing. “If we had kept on as we were going, Sydney, then I would have told you. My family all know.”

“You have family?” she asked, bewildered.

Alex stood up again. “I really should go.”

Sydney looked like she wanted to protest again, but Rafe jumped to his feet and came over to the door as Alex reached it. He gripped Alex’s arm. “About last week…”

Alex shook his head. “It’s done,” he said shortly. “Ask Sydney. I’m not pissed at you. You should stay and hold her. She needs the support and she needs you.” He leaned around Rafe and smiled at her. Sydney looked pale and her eyes were huge. “Call me if you want more answers than Rafe can give you. Or call Taylor. I know she won’t mind.”

Sydney nodded.

Alex forced himself to step out of the apartment and listen to Rafe shut the door behind him.

* * * * *

Sydney watched Rafe walk back to the sofa, but this time, he didn’t sit next to her. He pulled the armchair over so he was before her and he didn’t seem to have any problems moving the big old heavy antique.

“I keep feeling like I should make you coffee or something. It’s so late,” she said. “But I guess you don’t drink.”

“Drink. Eat.” He shrugged.

“Why don’t I feel scared by you?” she asked. “In the movies, humans are always terrified even if they don’t know what the vampire is. Like rabbits cowering instinctively because a predator is nearby. But I don’t feel that with you. With any of you. You’ve always seemed…well, normal.”

“We work to appear normal,” Rafe said flatly. “But you’re right, we’re not a threat to you, in particular.”

“Why?”

“Because we’ve had…because of the sex,” Rafe said flatly.

Sydney could feel her cheeks heating. “I haven’t had sex with Veris or Brody,” she pointed out.

“They’re friends of mine.” Rafe shook his head. “We don’t go around hunting humans all day. Most of the time we’re working to live as normal and as happy a life as you are. Our lives just last a little longer, that’s all.”

Sydney studied him. “Tell me about your family.”

“I would like you to meet them,” Rafe said. “But not tonight. They’re all asleep, and you should be too. It’s very late.”

“They’re human?” How could Rafe have a human family? It seemed impossible…and so utterly unfair.

He stood and tugged her to her feet. “Sleep time, my beauty. Come on.”

His hand around hers felt just as it had before. He was still the same. She looked down at his hand. “You’re not cold. I’m mean, you’re not hot, but I thought you were cold because you were…” She grimaced.

“Undead?” Rafe finished. “You should probably only use that word when you want to offend a vampire. We’re not hot-blooded like you. We don’t have metabolisms like you, and we don’t let our hearts run continuously, so that dissipates heat, too. But we breathe and move and that generates some warmth. Enough to keep us around room temperature most of the time.” He looked down at their joined hands. “You didn’t notice until tonight.”

“Not consciously. But you were hot in…in bed.”

He tapped his chest with his other hand. “Heart. It’s next to impossible to stop it running when you’re concentrating on other things. Besides, I need the blood supply at those times.”

Sydney could feel herself blushing even harder.

Rafe tugged her hand, forcing her to start walking. He led her into the bedroom, switched on the bedside lamp and turned down the covers, then patted the mattress. “In you get.”

“Are you…staying?”

Rafe grew still. His eyes in the low light of the lamp were very black. “You want me to stay?” he asked. His voice was neither hopeful nor horrified and Sydney knew he was damming back his reactions. Hiding them, so he would not influence her.

She recalled once more her reaction when Alex had left a few moments ago. Part of her had wanted to reach out and make him stay. But like Rafe, she had burned that bridge. There were no second chances with Alex. Sadness touched her. “I don’t want to be alone,” she told Rafe. “I’ve just found out that vampires are real, time travel is real, and who knows what other things that bite and go bump in the night are real? I’ll have nightmares if I’m alone.”

“I suppose I can stand being a teddy bear for the night,” he said, his voice gruff.

Sydney turned to him. “No, I didn’t mean it like that! Don’t get mad. I do need someone with me, but you’re the only person in the world right now that I would ask.” Except Alex. She held her jaw together.

Rafe slid his hand under her hair, to cup her cheek. “I love your hair when it’s down like this. You look so young and fragile, which makes your real strength all the more powerful.” He sighed. “I’ve missed you, this last week.” It was a low spoken confession.

“Then why did you stay away?” she demanded, more sharply than she intended. “I thought you were never coming back.”

“I didn’t want to,” he admitted. “I don’t want to want another person again. But I do want you.”

“Then why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

“I don’t want you to turn away from me if I do.”

It gave her an insight into Rafe’s mind, his fears that she would be repelled by his non-human status. So she reached up and kissed him, wishing hard that life wasn’t so complicated.

* * * * *

It was bitterly cold, and the light was low and subdued the way it used to get in winter, back in…

…Wisconsin. Sydney looked around, twisting her shoulders. A sudden deep fear was sitting in her chest, stealing her breath. The street was horribly familiar. A hoar frost covered everything and there were heavy clouds overhead, threatening snow.

Rafe was standing with her, his arms around her, dressed like she was in a parka and hood, gloves and a scarf that muffled his neck. He was looking around as curiously as she was and passersby were stepping around them. There weren’t many for State Street, so it had to be early in the morning.

Sydney shook him. “Rafe!”

He studied her, puzzled. “You’re…so young,” he whispered, touching her face with his woolen glove.

Panic swirled closer and Sydney shook him. “Why are we here?” she demanded.

“I don’t know…” Rafe replied slowly.

“Arlene! What the fuck!” The shout came from the right and Sydney jerked at the name. She looked, horror already spilling through her.

Peter stood on the other side of the street, his hands on his hips. Even from across the road, she could see that the veins in his temples were throbbing. He was staring at them.

At them! Sydney gasped and pulled herself out of Rafe’s arms. She knew what it looked like to Peter and fresh horror erupted inside her. “Peter!” She started to move toward him. “Oh, God, Peter,” she breathed. This was a disaster of the worse kind.

She looked back at Rafe. “How can we be here?” she demanded, fear making her voice weightless. “It’s not supposed to work like this.”

Rafe was looking at Peter, his gloves curled up into tight fists. “Who is he, Sydney?”

She stepped back to Rafe and caught his arms and shook him. “Kiss me,” she demanded. “You have to kiss me and you have to think of my apartment, just as we left it. The light on, the bed turned down. Focus, Rafe, or we won’t get home.”

He licked his lips, staring at her. “This is real, isn’t it? Not just the dream again?”

“Yes, it’s real.” She glanced at Peter. He was starting to cross the road, waiting for a break in the light traffic. She shook Rafe again. “Kiss me!”

Rafe seemed to finally look at her, to absorb what she was saying. “Home,” he said, his voice firm, and kissed her.

Sydney thought longingly of her apartment, the warm bed waiting for her. As Taylor had coached her, she leaned there and felt the surge of a rip-tide pull her off her feet.

* * * * *

The safety of her room had never looked so welcome. Sydney staggered away from Rafe’s arms and collapsed on the bed, shaking. She couldn’t get her teeth to stop chattering.

Rafe’s hand rested on her shoulder. “What was that?” he said. “It was time travel, I get that, but it wasn’t anywhere that I remember—” and he halted like someone had turned off the volume.

Sydney looked up at him. “Of c…course it was time travel! That was m…my life! Which isn’t supposed to happen!” The tears were burning her eyes, but she blinked them away. The old Sydney, the woman who had been Arlene, would be a sobbing mess by now. So she made herself sit up. “Don’t you get it?” she asked Rafe. “If we time travel at all, it’s supposed to be your life we go back to, but it was mine!”

“He called you Arlene. That man,” Rafe said. His eyes were narrowing. “Who was he?”

Sydney knew there was no point in trying to hide anything now. He had seen it all. “That was Peter. He used to be my husband…a long time ago.”

“His fury…” Rafe murmured wonderingly. “I think he might have tried to kill me if we were still there.”

“Probably,” Sydney said tiredly. She looked him in the eye. “He used to beat me. All the time, for any reason. That’s why I’m Sydney now.”

“To get away from him?” Rafe asked.

Sydney rubbed her arms, which had goose bumps all over them. “He came home one night. He’d been drinking. He barely waited for the door to shut. He just lit into me, with fists and the leather strap he called his ‘enforcer’. He…” Sydney caught her breath as it all fell into place with sickly sense. She grabbed at her stomach, but as the sickness rose, she staggered to her feet and over to the bathroom door.

“Sydney?”

She tried to shut the door but didn’t have time. She fell to her knees and vomited until she saw stars and was bringing up nothing but hot, acid bile. When she was done she sat back against the cabinet, completely drained, and flushed the toilet.

Rafe crouched down next to her. “Here.” He held out her wash cloth, freshly rinsed.

She wiped her mouth and the back of her neck, while Rafe held up her hair. Her hands were shaking.

He took the cloth back and put it in the basin. Then he picked her up and carried her back to the bed and put her on it. He lowered himself down in front of her, his hands on either side of her knees. “Tell me,” he said.

Sydney swallowed. “It never made any sense to me, until just now. Peter just started hitting me and yelling about the guy he had seen me whoring with. But I hadn’t spoken to anyone all day. He’d cut me off from my family, from everyone. He wouldn’t let me work, so I just wandered around Madison all day. I couldn’t even remember parts of the day.”

Rafe’s hands curled up into the same fists he had held them in when watching Peter.

Sydney made herself say the rest. “He beat me into a miscarriage.”

Chapter Fifteen

Mia, the household nanny and unofficial body-guard, let Alex in. “They’re in the library,” she said. Her expression was grave. “The police detective is very upset.”

Alex pushed away the fear that was building in him and hurried through to the library. Everyone was there, although Taylor stifled a yawn as Alex crossed over to where all the chairs were spread in a rough circle in front of the sofa.

Rafe wasn’t sitting, though. He was moving on his feet in restless little circles, just behind the chairs. Alex could see Sydney’s head over the top of the chair closest to him.

Veris looked up at his approach. “We have a development,” he said shortly. “Let me bring you up to speed.” He began to speak in terse sentences designed to get the facts across quickly. His words were bereft of any rhetoric, but they didn’t need poetics for the emotions of the situation to communicate themselves.

With growing dismay, Alex filled in the blanks. No wonder Sydney was sitting in the chair, a china doll with no color in her cheeks. He glanced at Rafe. Rafe wasn’t looking at anyone. He was just shifting on his feet, staring at the floor. Tension screamed from every stiffly held joint.

Veris finished up quickly. “After the miscarriage and the complications, Sydney arranged a new identity and left for the east coast. Now, we could theorize that the moment that they jumped back to tonight was engraved upon her memory, except that she doesn’t remember the moment at all. That fits with how it has always worked for us. If you go back to your younger body, you take over that body and the younger version of yourself doesn’t remember the time you borrowed it. But if she can’t remember it, how the hell did they get back there?”

“Because of me,” Rafe said, his voice hoarse. “This is all my fault.”

Everyone looked up at him, except for Sydney. She was staring into middle-distance, almost like she was hypnotized.

Rafe looked at Alex. “Your serum,” he said simply.

Alex caught his breath, wanting to deny it.

“When you gave it to me, I went back there. I saw Sydney. Only I didn’t know it was her. I hadn’t even met her. I saw me, but I didn’t know it was me at the time. I’ve been thinking about that place ever since. The anger of the man…of Peter. The fear in Sydney’s eyes.” He pressed the heel of his hands against his eyes. “It has haunted me ever since, and I took us there.” He pulled his hands away and moisture glittered in his eyes. He choked and spun around, hiding his face from everyone.

Alex crouched down next to Sydney and touched her arm. “The complications after the miscarriage,” he said gently. “Did they perform a hysterectomy?”

Sydney turned to look at him. Her eyes were wide. Fear-filled. She nodded slowly. Then she laid her left hand on the flat arm of the chair and spread her fingers. The little finger was slightly crooked. “When I got home from the hospital after the procedure, Peter broke my finger. He said he would break all of them if I ever told anyone the miscarriage was his fault. When the police came around…his chums…I told them I had slipped on the ice.”

Brody made a small sound. “He was a cop?”

Sydney didn’t look around. She kept talking to Alex like he had asked the question. “He was a detective. First grade.” She gave a ghost of a smile. “I out-rank him.”

“That’s who you’ve been competing against in the force,” Veris said softly.

Taylor reached out for Veris’ hand and he picked hers up and held it both of his big ones.

Rafe gave a soft sound. It sounded like a moan.

Alex couldn’t help it. He got to his feet and went over to him and took his arm. “Come with me,” he said softly.

Rafe let him lead him out into the foyer, where the stairs wound up to the second floor in a graceful curve, the wrought iron banisters airy and fragile-looking. Once they were out of reach of the lights from the library, Alex turned him to face him. “It’s not your fault,” he said firmly. “No one is blaming you for something you could not possibly anticipate, that you had no way of even beginning to guess might happen.” He held Rafe’s face. “Not even Sydney blames you.”

Rafe looked at him. His eyes were still glittering with slightly pink tears. “I do,” he said heavily.

“Then you’re indulging in Mediterranean melodramatics,” Alex said crisply. “Sydney needs you. And Veris needs you to recall everything that happened. You have the perfect memory and she’s in shock.”

Rafe swallowed. “Cold hearted infidel,” he muttered.

“I was a Fatimid, thank you. A long time ago.”

“Why aren’t you tending to Sydney, doctor, if she’s the one in shock?”

“Because you’re in shock, too,” Alex said gently. “Emotional shock, the closest vampires get to a physiological reaction. But you’re coming out of it.” He studied him closely. Rafe was focusing properly now.

He drew in a breath as Alex watched and nodded. “Okay.”

“Very good.” Alex waved toward the library. “Ready to talk, now, Spaniard?”

“Spaniard?” Rafe spluttered. Then he rolled his eyes. “That was for the Infidel crack, right?”

“I thought some indignation might do you good, too.”

Rafe blew out another breath. “I’m not indignant,” he said softly. “I’m fucking angry.”

“Hold onto that. We both may need it before this ends.” Alex headed back toward the library, knowing that Rafe would follow. His gaze was caught by movement in the far corner of his eyes and he looked up at the top of the stairs. Marit was sitting on the top one, her dressing gown hem wrapped around her ankles. She had been listening. As he looked at her, she lifted her finger to her lips in a request for silence.

Beware, Uncle Alex.

He almost tripped over his own feet as he walked back inside.

Veris was standing over Sydney’s chair, holding her wrist while he measured her pulse, his other hand on her forehead, for her temperature.

“You see?” Sydney said, her voice the same light, bodiless murmur. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Veris said. “But you’re not in clinical shock, either, which was what I was afraid of. I have sedatives on hand, though. They might make you feel more comfortable.”

“No drugs,” she said firmly, her voice a fraction stronger.

Veris looked up at Alex. “Maybe a second opinion?”

“If Sydney says no, then it’s no,” Alex said.

Veris turned to Taylor. “Your vitals are all sluggish, too. Perhaps you should go back to sleep.”

Taylor looked at him sharply. “Stop trying to send the women out of the room, Veris.”

He opened his mouth, then shut it again, and sat back down on his chair.

Brody sat forward. “He’s not getting rid of you. Either of you.”

“No, but he’s gearing up for a war council and the old instinct is to get the women and children out of the room so they don’t hear anything distressing. He knows this is ugly and Sydney is already stressed. So he’s trying to spare us.”

Brody grimaced and sat back. Taylor rested her hand on Veris’ arm. “It’s sweet of you, but Sydney and I have a big stake in this. Bigger than yours. We stay.”

Sydney gave Taylor a small smile.

“War council?” Alex asked.

Veris looked up at him. “Taylor is exaggerating to make a point.”

“Not much,” Taylor muttered.

“But we do need to consider the ramifications of this…development.”

“And deal with an asshole or two,” Taylor added and Veris glared at her. She smiled sweetly back.

“Pull up a chair, you two,” Brody said. “You might as well get comfortable.”

Alex went over to the far wall, where the last two chairs sat on either side of a tall bookcase, and carried them over to where everyone waited.

Sydney watched him with a curious look on her face, and he realized that she was still getting used to vampires being themselves, including using more of their strength and their enhanced perceptions. Then she straightened. “Why is this even under discussion?” she asked. “I mean, this is my personal history.”

“Agreed,” Veris said easily. “But it’s a personal history that you shouldn’t have been able to jump back to. That’s what we need to think about.”

“What Veris is trying to say in his usual delicate way,” Brody added, “is that you’re family now. You joined the tribe tonight, when you jumped back to Alex’s days in the desert. Your problems are our problems, now.”

Sydney’s eyes widened and her mouth opened. She shut it with an audible click. “I…um…thank you.”

Alex caught her eye. “They really do mean it when they say ‘family’. I’ve been privileged to have been family for several years now. They will give their all to help you. Of course, they sometimes expect you to pull out a few stops of your own to assist them from time to time.”

Veris grinned. “Like laying guards out cold, Alex?”

Alex shrugged. “It was the least I could do.”

Veris looked at Sydney. “And they were vampire guards, too.” His expression sobered. “Alex’s serum has the ability to….” He blew out his breath. “I don’t have the vocabulary for it, yet. But the serum, at a high enough dose, lets you travel. Mental travel, for both Alex and Raphael say they couldn’t see their own bodies and direction was achieved by willing themselves where they wanted to go. We’ve theorized that this sort of travel is probably what Tira has experienced in the past. It is time travel of a sort, for you can go back in time, and you do see real events that happened, but you can’t participate in them. They unroll like a movie in front of you.”

“It feels real enough,” Rafe said. “I felt the cold on both occasions.”

“Which is probably why you were able to go back for real,” Brody said. “It was very real, and left a distinct impression.”

“But, Taylor, you said the first couple of times you jumped, it was this same sort of mental travel,” Sydney said. “It really wasn’t mental for me and Alex, because you saw us there and spoke to us.”

Taylor nodded. “I think Alex was pre-conditioned by listening to us talk about time travel for years. He’s always wanted to be able to do it himself. And his memory of that time and places is extraordinarily vivid and detailed. I think your abilities are very strong and you by-passed that intermediate step.” She glanced at Veris. “Would you agree, oh, master?”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Let’s not get into the trap of considering who might be a better jumper. The last thing I could stand right now is two women in a cat fight.”

“Liar. You’d love it,” Brody muttered.

Alex smothered his laugh as Veris glared at Brody. Even Sydney smiled.

Rafe pushed his fingers through his wavy hair, pushing it all back from his forehead. “So…if I can find places in the past with the serum, can anyone?”

“The past,” Veris said in agreement, “and possibly the future.” He looked at Alex.

“That’s where you think I was, when I…” Alex dropped his voice, aware that Marit was eavesdropping. “When I spoke to Marit?”

“She was older, you said,” Brody pointed out. “The future is one possibility.”

Taylor drew in a sharp breath. “Or was it the past, for Marit?”

“Marit time travels?” Rafe asked, startled.

“Not that we’re aware of…yet,” Veris said grimly. “Although I think we’re going to need a family conference when she’s awake.” He dismissed the subject with an impatient shake of his head. “We’re losing focus. Alex and Rafe both saw people and events that were real. Does that mean that if anyone uses the serum and sees something, they can jump to it, later?”

The room was silent as everyone considered it.

“You said that it was your perfect memories that let you jump back into the past,” Sydney said slowly, clearly working it out as she spoke. “So if someone sees something with the…the serum, if they see it clearly enough, then why wouldn’t they be able to jump to it later? Rafe did, so that’s proof it’s possible.”

Veris nodded. “That’s the first axiom, granted. Rafe did it. Now…can anyone do it?”

Sydney shrugged. “You won’t know until someone other than Rafe or Alex tries it.”

Veris sat back. “I don’t think anyone is willing to try it right now. Certainly not me. I saw the physical effects it has on the brain.”

“Don’t you heal from anything?” Sydney asked.

Brody laughed. “Skewered, coward.”

Veris laughed, too, unabashed. “Well, let’s say I’m not in a hurry to try it. We’ve got enough on our plate.”

Sydney frowned.

“Yes, we’re talking about you,” Alex told her.

“But what is there you can possibly do?” she asked. “It happened twelve years ago. That was a whole other life and another person.”

“And you’ve lived in fear for twelve years,” Veris said gently. “Tell me you haven’t been looking over your shoulder the whole time.”

Sydney pressed her lips together, her green eyes narrowing. “Yes,” she said at last.

“How good is your ID?” Rafe asked. “It’s clearly stood up to a decade of use, and even passed the LAPD screening, but the original documents…can they be traced back to Arlene?”

Alex could detect Sydney’s growing anxiety, her rising heart rate.

“I don’t know,” she said at last. “That was a long time ago. My connections and my skills weren’t as good as they are now.”

“Maybe that’s something we can fix?” Taylor asked of no one in particular.

There was a thoughtful pause.

“You mean,” Sydney said, “go back in time and fix it?”

Taylor looked at Veris. “There has to be a way to do that without screwing up the timeline. Sydney has stayed Sydney for fifteen years without anyone figuring it out, so maybe we already did go back.”

Alex glanced at Sydney to check that she understood what Taylor had said. The changes in tense and the time paradoxes were sometimes hard to understand, but Sydney seemed to be following just fine.

“No one helped me with my ID, the first time,” Sydney said, proving she had understood precisely.

“When was the last time you recalled the memory of arranging the ID?” Veris asked. “If we’re still to go back and help you, then your memory of it could have changed already.”

“But your memories don’t change until after you’ve gone back and changed something,” Alex pointed out.

Sydney was frowning. “No, it’s the way I remember it…although even if it had changed, wouldn’t it seem like it was the way it always had been to me?”

“Yes…and no.” Veris let out a breath. “I don’t know how it would work for a human. Your memory is so much less reliable than ours.”

Taylor gave a laugh and patted Veris’ knee. “I wish I was recording this. It’s been a long time since anyone skewered you with your own logic. This is fun.” She looked at Sydney. “Don’t let him get away with a generality. He’s too used to being the smart one in the room.”

Rafe spoke, his voice low. “If we’re going back, why don’t we go back and fix this properly and completely.”

Alex’s heart thudded. He knew exactly what Rafe was saying. “Yes,” he said. “Why not? Take Peter out of the equation altogether. Then Sydney would never meet him.”

Veris shook his head. “No. You can’t screw with the future like that.”

“Why not?” Rafe said hotly. “So we fuck with the future and Peter disappears. Who cares? I won’t shed a tear for the bastard.”

“No,” Veris said, his voice loud. “You have no idea what would happen once you did that. You don’t know how the changes ripple down to this time, how enormous the changes might be.”

Alex crossed his arms. “It would be worth it,” he said flatly.

“Would it?” Veris turned in his chair to confront him. He was angry…or perhaps he was afraid, and it was the first time Alex had ever been the focus of Veris’ temper and emotions, although Taylor had warned him about them. “Have you listened to nothing that Brody and Taylor and I have said about screwing with time? Do you not understand how something as simple as going back and killing a foul being that barely deserves the name ‘human’ would fuck with your life?”

Alex realized his heart had slipped lose and was beating heavily. He took in a calming breath. “I have listened. I know what you’re saying. I still say it’s worth it.”

“It’s not your choice to make!” Veris cried.

“What’s not his choice to make?” Rafe asked, his voice much calmer than Veris’. He was looking at Alex, expecting him to explain.

“If you…or I, or anyone else goes back and deals with Peter, then Sydney’s life would immediately alter. She wouldn’t have reason to escape to the coast, she wouldn’t join the police force because she never met Peter and wouldn’t need to prove herself.”

“Primary computation,” Veris said heavily. “She would never meet either of you.”

Alex nodded.

“But Sydney would never meet Peter, would she?” Rafe said, looking at Alex.

“No, she wouldn’t,” Alex said.

Rafe stare at him. “You’d give up ever meeting Sydney?” he asked softly, and Alex suddenly felt like there was no one else in the room but the two of them.

“For Sydney, yes,” Alex said calmly.

“Then so would I.”

“No!” Sydney cried. “I don’t care what an asshole Peter was, I won’t change a single thing about that time if it means I don’t end up right here, right now. I won’t consider it! Not for a moment.”

Veris smiled grimly. “There is your answer, gentlemen. For the time being, unless someone comes up with a bright idea that doesn’t involve changing the past, we do nothing. Not until we know a lot more about how the serum affects time travel.”

Sydney looked at him. “Does that mean you’re going to try the serum now, big guy?”

Brody snorted.

Veris just shook his head. “Ordinary time travel nearly destroyed my life twice already. When it comes to this, I’m risk averse.” His gaze flickered around the room. “I have too much to lose,” he said quietly.

Taylor leaned over and kissed his cheek.

Chapter Sixteen

Brody paused halfway down the stairs as childish chatter reached his ears. It wasn’t the children talking that caught his attention. Marit did all the talking, still, but the twins seemed to like the sound of her voice and would focus on her face and listen endlessly while she talked.

It was the odd language Marit was using that made Brody back up a few steps, open up his hearing, and focus in on Marit’s voice. Marit was a polyglot that soaked up a new language like other kids absorbed Sesame Street, but this wasn’t one Brody had heard before.

He turned and eased his way back down the passageway to the big playroom, listening all the way. Marit’s voice became clearer, even through the closed door, but he still didn’t recognize the language. When he reached the door, he eased it open and stepped inside.

Marit finished her chattering at the twins, who were rolling around on the floor, reaching for things to chew on, and kicking their legs. Aran had his knees under him, and was rocking. It would be any day now he would start crawling and then life would get interesting. Again.

Marit smiled up at him. “Athair, Alannah wants to be like you when she grows up.”

“A rock singer?” he asked curiously.

“A daddy,” Marit said gravely. “Although I said she could only be a mommy like Mom, but…” She shrugged.

“That’s what you were telling her just then?”

“Yes.”

“And she told you about wanting to be a daddy, just like you were talking?”

Marit rolled her eyes. “Alannah is still too little to talk. Not much, anyway. But she looks at me and I know what she’s thinking.”

“Uh-huh,” Brody said carefully. “So what were you talking to her in? What language was that? I don’t think I’ve heard it before.”

Marit’s expression didn’t change by an inch. “Just something I heard,” she said.

“Someone in the neighborhood speaks it?” he pressed.

“No, somewhere…around,” she said, and picked up the soft block Aran was reaching for and put it just in front of him. He crowed and slapped his hand on it, and it bounced away.

“It sounds very old,” Brody said.

“I think it is. I don’t know what it’s called.” Marit shrugged.

Brody made a mental note to move the family discussion about what Merit could or couldn’t do up to sometime very soon. Today, if he could arrange it.

The door to the playroom opened again, and Mia came in. “Hi, Brody,” she said, then smiled at Marit. “Marit does such a great job watching the twins when I need to step away for a minute.”

“She does,” Brody agreed.

The door opened again. It was Veris. Something about his expression made Brody move toward him. “Wait,” he said quietly, and pulled him out of the room. Once the door was shut, he looked at Veris expectantly.

“Taylor isn’t home,” Veris said.

Brody consulted his time sense, checking the time. “She’s not so late,” he pointed out.

“I can’t raise her. Not on any of the phones.”

There was a phone in the car, as well as her office and cellphones. If she couldn’t be reached at any of them, that made a difference.

Veris crossed his arms. “I phoned the library reception and asked them to track her down for me, but they said she left work an hour ago.”

Brody waited. He knew Veris’ expressions and knew there was a kicker to this. He braced himself.

“I asked them to check her parking bay,” Veris said.

“The Aston Martin is still there,” Brody breathed.

Veris nodded.

Brody grabbed his arm. “We can track her better than anyone. We start there. I’ll drive.”

Veris pulled out his phone as Brody hauled him down the passage.

“Who are you calling?”

“Sydney. The police can’t officially do anything for twenty-four hours, but she can.”

“Good idea.”

Neither of them questioned aloud whether this might be a false alarm. Taylor was too resourceful and too thoughtful to leave them wondering like this. The only reason she hadn’t contacted them to let them know she was okay was because she couldn’t.

The list of possible reasons why she couldn’t do that was very short and bloody.

* * * * *

Sydney sat back in her chair, looking at the telephone with some trepidation. She had just finished talking to Veris, and she had been able to hear the worry in his voice. All the usual platitudes and reassurances she normally used if someone tried to report a missing person ahead of the twenty-four-hour rule didn’t rise up this time.

If Veris said Taylor was missing and foul play was involved, she believed him, and that was the scary part. In less than forty-eight hours, Taylor and her family had become beacons in Sydney’s life. Her very changed life.

She began to figure out what she could do below the radar, so none of the usual monitoring systems would be alerted while she did some poking around.

This was her first day back at work after taking a full day to catch up on her sleep. Rafe had insisted, assuring her he had watched more humans sleeping than she had, and was far more familiar with sleep cycles and what lack of sleep could do. He had tucked her into bed, seven hours after he had folded the covers back. The sun had been coming up by then. She had been so dizzy with sleep deprivation that she hadn’t argued. She had fallen asleep before Rafe finished pulling the curtains over the window to block the light.

Sydney had walked into the station in her usual way, but her senses were fanned out, trying to watch every conceivable angle. Alex’s warning about Yonkers was at the forefront of her mind.

But Baker had simply growled at her about how much crap there was for her to clean up now she was back and it had let her relax a little. He was treating her as he always did.

There was a load of stupid stuff in her in-tray and the day had passed swiftly while she dealt with it all. She had just been starting to think about going home when Veris had called to tell her Taylor was missing.

So instead, Sydney shut her door and thought about Taylor. And Veris and Brody. And Alex. And Rafe. Then she pulled her keyboard out from under her desk and began hitting keys.

* * * * *

“Is there any news?” Alex said as he walked into the big room. Rafe was already there, bending over the big coffee table with Veris and Brody. Sydney was standing back, her hand on her hip. Her jacket was open, displaying the butt of the Glock under her arm.

She looked at him. “It’s news of a sort,” she said. “Come and look.”

Brody stepped away from the table, and waved Alex forward. “I don’t see what the fuss is.”

“You wouldn’t, which is why I phoned Alex,” Sydney said.

“What are the photos?” Alex asked.

“It’s the staff parking garage where Taylor works,” Veris said. He pointed to one of the photos. There was a dark colored Aston Martin showing in the corner. “That’s Taylor’s car.”

Alex looked. There were a dozen cars showing in the photo, all of them neatly parked, plus a lot of spaces. Behind them was a strip of unadorned concrete, the access area. There was nothing else showing in the photo except for big concrete pillars.

“What time was this taken?” Alex asked.

“Six forty-three in the evening,” Sydney said. She reached between Rafe and Veris. “Excuse me.” She pulled one of the photos out from underneath the rest and dropped it on top. “This was from twelve minutes earlier.”

There was a light colored car driving past the backs of the parked cars. It was a big car—a Ford Explorer, he thought, with a cattle bar mounted on the front.

Alex straightened up with a jerk. “Oh, holy mother!”

Everyone else looked at him, puzzled, except Sydney.

“That’s the car…the white car from your accident,” Alex said.

Sydney nodded. “That’s the first thing I thought of. That’s why I’m here.”

Veris held up a hand. “I know about the hit-and-run in general, but not the specifics. Alex didn’t detail it. Perhaps you’d better do that now.”

Sydney told them about the hit-and-run in dry, short and factual statements. Veris seemed to appreciate the lack of adornment, for he listened carefully. Then he looked at Alex. “You didn’t remember being there, but you were there in the photos. That didn’t remind you of anything?”

Alex started in surprise once more. “Time travel,” he breathed. Then he shook his head. “Of course I didn’t think of it, when this first happened. Time travel was something only you three did. It just didn’t occur to me. But that would explain it.”

“You were there?” Sydney asked.

Alex looked at her. “I will be there. I haven’t got there yet. But sometime in my future, I will jump back to that time. It was me, after all, but I had no memory of having been there, because I haven’t gone there yet.”

Sydney sat on the arm of one of the chairs nearby. “That’s why none of it made sense,” she said slowly. “I knew there was something screwy going on.” She reached into her handbag, sitting at her feet and pulled out something gold and glittering, and held it up. It was Alex’s Ichthys. “I took this from you. At the accident. It fell out of your pocket.”

Alex reached into his pocket and pulled out the same medallion and held it up, swinging gently. “I still have it, because I haven’t jumped back there yet.”

Rafe rubbed his temples. “Veris, why are there two of them here where we can see them? Why isn’t the universe imploding because of the paradox?”

“Because it’s only a paradox in your mind,” Veris said, looking at the two medallions. “Time isn’t linear, remember. We just experience it that way. The moment of the accident and this moment right now coexist in time.”

Rafe frowned. “When I was under Alex’s drug, everything was layered over the top of everything else, and spread out like a huge landscape.”

“You were experiencing time closer to what it really is,” Veris agreed. “Depthless and endless in all directions. And that makes sense. The serum increases the firing of brain synapses and brings even more of them online, which increases capacity the brain works at. It’s also why Alex was experiencing near-seizures—the electrical storm. If your brain is working at a higher capacity than normal, who knows what you are able to perceive? Time itself doesn’t seem like an unreasonable thing to trip over in that state.”

Sydney reached into her bag once more. “Then you all need to see this.” She dropped the photo she withdrew onto the top of the others already spread upon the table and stepped back, putting the medallion back into her bag.

Everyone bent over the photo. Alex saw what it was between Veris and Rafe’s shoulders, and stood back to give them room. He glanced at Sydney. “Where did you get it? I thought all the evidence, the videos…I thought it had all been stolen?”

“I held one of the photos back from the evidence box,” Sydney said. “I wanted to study it. So it was in my briefcase the night the evidence disappeared. I didn’t tell you about it because you were so stressed about appearing in the photos in the first place.” She gave him a small smile. “Now I know why.” Then she looked at the three men huddled around the photo. “Do any of you recognize the driver standing by the Explorer?”

“There weren’t any clearer shots of his face under that hood?” Brody asked.

“He seemed to know exactly where not to turn, like he knew where all the cameras were,” Sydney said. “None of the footage showed a clear shot. This is probably the best of them, and you can only see a jawline.”

Rafe bent closer, turning the photo slightly. “Yes. There’s a reflection. Here, in the window of the driver’s door. See?”

Everyone looked again, even Alex this time. There was a pale disk reflected on the glass, that Alex had assumed was the reflection of a street light. But the street light was behind the Explorer.

Rafe picked up the photo, and looked at Brody and Veris. “Do you have a flatbed scanner?”

“Upstairs,” Brody said.

“I might be able to blow up the reflection so we can see it,” Rafe said. “Can I?”

“Of course.” Brody took him through to the foyer and stairs, and a moment later they reappeared on the upper balcony. There was a desk and a computer set up there that Alex knew was mainly used for cataloguing and indexing their vast library. Rafe settled in front of the computer equipment and Brody came back downstairs again. He didn’t sit down. None of them were sitting, except for Sydney, who was merely propping herself on the arm of the chair.

“What’s next?” Alex asked.

Brody looked at Veris, but before he could answer, Sydney spoke. “This is the only line of enquiry open to you at the moment. We have to hope that Rafe can build a face out of the photo, because it’s clear that Taylor was taken against her will, by the same person who tried to kill me.” She gave them a small smile. “Whoever it is clearly understood the connection between me and Taylor long before any of us discovered it for ourselves.”

Veris put his hands over his face and gave a loud groan. “No! No, no, no!” he cried into his hands, then pulled them away. “She has always wanted Taylor for her own, and she has always wanted the secret to time travel. Somewhere in the future, she must learn the art of time travel, which let her come back to the past—to here—to get the other thing she most wants. Taylor.”

Alex’s stomach did a slow roll, and his chest squeezed. “Tira,” he breathed.

Brody dropped onto a chair, suddenly, as if his knees had given way.

“Who is Tira?” Sydney asked.

Rafe leaned over the balcony. “Is this anyone you recognize?” he asked, holding up a printed image. It was somewhat blurry, but it was the full features. Big eyes, sharp jaw, high cheekbones.

Veris closed his eyes.

Brody was looking down at his knees.

So Alex spoke. “It’s Tira.” His voice was strained.

Rafe turned the photo around to look at it, startled. His mouth opened. Then he muttered something in what Alex had to assume was either old Greek or ancient Hispanic. “Fuck me,” he added.

Sydney looked at Alex and raised her brow.

“Tira is another long story,” Alex told her.

“Everything with you guys is a long story,” Sydney pointed out. “But I can guess most of it. Tira is another vampire and definitely not a friend of yours. She’s caused problems before, and from that I can guess she was probably at the root of Brody’s arrest. From Veris’ expression, she’s not someone you can dismiss lightly. She has resources, including, now, the ability to time jump.”

Veris sat in the chair behind him. Heavily.

“Does it make sense, given what you know of Tira,” Sydney asked, “for her to take Taylor?”

“Yes,” Alex said flatly.

Rafe came up to the table and put the photo back on top of the pile. “She has always worked on the very edges of the Council’s tolerance. This is exactly like her.”

“Why would she take her?” Sydney asked, and Alex could sense from her tone that she was looking for information. Data.

“Tira has wanted Taylor for her own, ever since she met her,” Brody said heavily. “She wanted to turn her, so that Taylor would always have that unbreakable bond with her. At first, I think it was because Taylor could do what Tira couldn’t.”

“Time travel,” Alex interjected.

“After the drug thing and Constantinople, and…well…” He looked up. “The kids infuriated her. Natural children, conceived by vampires, thanks to time travel. I think the birth of the twins might have just tipped her over into vengeance for its own sake. She resents us that much.”

Sydney pressed her lips together, absorbing it all. “Who is she, this Tira? Why can’t you just cut her out of your life?”

“She’s our queen,” Alex said.

“And she hasn’t annoyed the Council enough yet to bother replacing her,” Rafe added, “although she has come close on a few occasions.”

Sydney stood up. “So, you have to find Tira and where she is keeping Taylor, and that could be anywhere in time and space.”

Veris sighed.

“It’s a good thing we have someone who can float through time and space and find places, isn’t it?” Sydney said.

Brody jerked his head up, hope blazing in his face.

But Veris spoke before Brody could say anything. “It’s too dangerous. We haven’t even begun to chart possible side effects of the serum, or how to counter them.”

“But it will let me find Taylor,” Rafe said firmly. “I know just what to do.”

“No, I’ll do it,” Alex said. “I’ve had more practice.”

“You’re the doctor. You need to monitor and stand by,” Rafe countered.

“Veris has more medical degrees than I’ll ever earn,” Alex said. “And he’s read the research and trial notes. He can monitor.”

Rafe opened his mouth once more, but Alex held up his hand. “You have people who rely on you, Rafe. You have a family. And you have Sydney. Just shut up this once and take a back seat. I’m doing it.”

He looked at Sydney. “Keep him out of my way, huh?”

She nodded, her eyes large.

* * * * *

Alex settled on the couch in Veris’ home clinic as Veris stepped up with the syringe.

“This is a huge dose,” Veris said.

That didn’t make Rafe and Sydney, who stood looking on, look any happier.

“I’ve grown a tolerance for the stuff,” Alex assured him. “I’ll need all of it to break out into the timescape.” He held out his arm.

Veris rested the needle against his skin and looked at him. “Thank you for this.”

“That’s what family is for,” Alex said.

Veris gave him a ghost of a smile. “Three hours and we bring you out again,” he warned, and injected the serum.

Chapter Seventeen

Alex tore through the barriers to the timescape. The beckoning thought, the forgotten memory, barely raised its head. Briefly, he considered if the dose had been too much. He could barely draw breath.

But he was in the timescape. Now that he knew it was time itself he was perceiving, it didn’t seem like such an alien place. It was understandable, but he didn’t have the capacity to understand it. The dimensions of time couldn’t be grasped by human or vampire perceptions, so he saw it as this clumsy landscape. Like Rafe, he could sense the depth to it. The layers…so many layers! People, millions of them, going about their lives. Dying, being born. All at once.

Alex let his senses stretch out before him and all around him. Rafe had said that the places he had found had beckoned to him, meaning they had some sort of personal significance. That had been the case when Alex found himself in Marit’s long hall.

Beware, Uncle Alex, she had said. Was this what he must be wary of?

He let himself float above the landscape and thought of Taylor. He thought of her laugh, her warm brown eyes, her beautiful hair. Her temper, when it was roused, as Veris sometimes liked to do, just to kiss her into a better mood. Taylor as Alex had known her in the desert, the lady wife of a lord, who said all the wrong things and did all the right things, like taking a spear in the shoulder that was meant for another.

Somewhere ahead, Alex could feel…it was almost like heat, or pulsing sound. Something. He moved toward it. It was a long way off and it felt like he was motionless, but he sensed the landscape beneath him was moving very fast, even though he could see no details that would tell him if his sense was correct.

Taylor, hold on, he thought, as the place ahead started to pull him in, like a fish on a line, faster and faster.

* * * * *

Brody and Veris held Alex down as he thrashed on the bed.

“What’s wrong with him?” Sydney cried. It was terrible watching Alex writhe like that. It looked like he was in abject pain. She reached for Rafe’s hand. “Why is this happening?”

Rafe shook his head. His eyes were wide. “I don’t know,” he said and sounded like he hated that confession. “I think it’s normal.”

“Normal?” Brody asked, horrified. He looked at Veris, who was grimly bearing down on Alex’s shoulders. “He did this for a whole year? What the hell was he looking for?”

“Answers,” Veris said shortly. “Just like he is now. All we can do is stop him from hurting himself.”

Sydney looked at the clock readout on the computer sitting on the desk. There was still a whole hour to go before Veris’ declared deadline. “You can’t let him do that for another hour,” she said flatly. “He’ll tear himself to pieces.”

“I was out for thirteen hours,” Rafe said softly. “We have to give him time to find Taylor.”

Veris looked at him. “Come and help Brody hold him down. I want to take his vitals and see what is happening in there.”

Rafe kissed Sydney’s hand, then stepped over to the side of the bed and took over Veris’ part in holding Alex steady and keeping him on the bed. “No wonder I needed to feed straight after,” he said, looking down at him. “This would drain anyone.”

“We don’t have anything on standby,” Brody said. “That could be a problem.”

“There’s me,” Sydney said, and was as surprised as everyone else. “I mean, he can feed from me, can’t he?” There was so much about vampire culture she didn’t know yet.

Veris looked at her as he untangled a stethoscope and moved back to the table. “It can be problematic,” he said. “Especially between partners.”

The look Brody gave him told Sydney there was another long story behind Veris’ simple statement.

Veris tore open Alex’s shirt and placed the stethoscope against his chest and listened. He frowned. “Runaway heartbeat, slightly arrhythmic. Not a large surprise, but it’s very high.” He pressed his hand against Alex’s brow. “Temperature on the rise. He’s near to human normal already.”

“I thought you could hear heartbeats without a stethoscope?” Sydney asked.

Veris glanced at her. “Not when there are so many loud and elevated heartbeats in the room already.” He kept testing, tapping, and listening. “What I would give for an EEG monitor,” he murmured.

“Later,” Brody snapped. He sounded breathless from his exertions keeping Alex on the bed.

Sydney bit her lip and glanced at the clock once more. Fifty-five minutes to go.

* * * * *

There. There! Alex could see the place just ahead. It was an ordinary room, forming in front of him. He absorbed the details. Tira was there, small and slender, sitting at a table. Taylor stood at the other end of the table. Her arms were not tied, but she was watching Tira closely.

Uncle Alex!

He looked around. Marit was there, with him in the timescape. It was the older Marit, from the long hall. She turned her head to look at the room where her mother was being held.

“You must tell the others,” she said. “Bring them here. The queen is not—”

“Alex!” The call came from behind him. The voice was strong. Male. He knew the voice, but he shook off the imperative call and looked back at Marit. “The queen isn’t what?”

Marit shook her head. “Tell them. Tell them all,” she insisted, and drifted away.

* * * * *

“Alex!” Veris yelled, and slapped his face again.

Sydney moved backward, away from the men bent over Alex’s body. He had stopped thrashing. He had stopped moving at all.

Brody finished injecting the other syringe, the one Veris had warned he would use if he had to, and dropped the empty syringe into a bowl on the sideboard behind him.

Rafe stood out of Veris’ way as Veris pressed his hand against Alex’s chest and listened. “Minimal response,” he said quietly, and dropped his head. “I think we’re losing him.”

Rafe squeezed Veris’ shoulder. “Let me try,” he said quietly.

Veris stepped out of the way and Rafe moved up to Alex’s shoulder and bent over to speak in his ear. “Alex! Can you hear me? It’s time to come home.” He shook him, not gently. “Alex!”

Sydney saw that Veris was watching her. She swallowed, trying to shovel her fear into a tiny corner and bury it.

“Talk to him,” Veris told her.

Brody moved out from the back of table, letting her in. She picked up Alex’s hand and spoke to him, just as Rafe was doing. “Alex! Please, please, you have to come back. Are you listening, Alex? Come back to us!”

They kept it up for long minutes, and still there was no sign of response in Alex. Sydney’s vision blurred with tears that dropped onto Alex’s shoulder, but she continued talking, whispering, begging him to return.

Until Brody rested his hand on her shoulder.

Sydney straightened up. “No! He could still come out of it! Leave me alone.”

“It’s been eighteen minutes,” Veris said softly.

“He’s a vampire. He doesn’t need to breath. He doesn’t need a beating heart,” Rafe said. “We give him time.” He glanced at her and they both bent back to whisper in his ears.

More minutes past, and Sydney began to shake, for Alex’s hand in hers was growing colder. Finally, she couldn’t speak anymore. Sorrow clogged her throat. She looked at Rafe, who straightened up slowly. There was an awful agony in his eyes.

Sydney threw her arm around him and hid her face against his shoulder, and he held her to him, with Alex’s body between them. She couldn’t bear the pain. It was stabbing her in the heart, making each breath painful.

Why, oh why, did she only now realize how much she loved Alex? Why now, when it was too late?

Veris pushed them aside, gently. “He’s breathing,” he said, hustling them out of the way. “Let me get at him.”

Rafe pulled her out of the way, but he kept her arm around her, as they watched Alex revive.

* * * * *

Alex felt cold. He was shivering with it. Veris assured him it was because his systems were slowing down from the frenetic activity they had been put through. Eventually, his core temperature would stabilize, but for now, Alex felt like an old, arthritic human who would never feel warm again. He hugged the blanket around his shoulders, and stayed in the chair where Brody and Veris had helped him, back in the library.

Everyone else was standing, because tempers were high.

“We don’t even know if this will work!” Brody said. “You can’t go, Rafe. Alex has to go because he knows where we’re jumping to, and Sydney must go, because she supplies the power for the jump. That leaves one place left, and even that’s a risk because Sydney has only done this twice and both times were accidental. If you think I’m going to give up that place to you, and let you get Taylor back, you’re out of your fucking mind.”

Sydney was the only one who looked calm, but her arms were crossed and her feet spread…a typical male stance of aggression that Alex just knew she had adopted when facing down male colleagues that disagreed with her. “I know what I’m doing,” she said quietly. “Taylor coached me, and the last time, with Rafe, I made a deliberate choice to jump back. I know how to do it, now. And I can take two.”

“Then I should be the other,” Veris said.

Brody exploded. “No! I’m not staying out of this! I’m damned if I’m going to sit here and wait it out!”

Alex cleared his throat. “Brody.”

Brody didn’t hear him. He lifted a finger toward Veris. “Don’t even think about it, Veris. I warn you.”

“Only one of us can go,” Veris pointed out. “Alex is barely able to stand. If the Queen fights it out, and I have no doubt she will, then it should be a fighter who goes with Alex and Sydney.”

“I’m just as good a fighter as you, you muscle-bound Northman!”

Veris caught Brody’s face in his hands. “But I’m a doctor. You’re not.”

Brody closed his eyes, the fight draining out of him. He swallowed. “Okay. All right.” He sounded tired.

“Brody,” Alex said again.

This time, Brody turned to look at him.

Alex tried to sit up. “Marit can take you.”

* * * * *

Marit gravitated toward Alex, as soon as Mia bought her into the room. She squeezed her slight body in between the arm of the chair and Alex’s knee, and looked at the five adults watching her.

Brody sat on the coffee table, making himself smaller and less intimidating. “Marit, do you know what happened to Mommy?”

She nodded.

Veris sighed. “The things we do to kids,” he muttered.

Brody squeezed his wrist, silently demanding he shut up. He kept his eyes on Marit. “Marit, honey, you’ve known for a long time about how we move around time, haven’t you?”

She nodded. “But it’s a secret.”

“Yes, it is.” Brody licked his lips. “Is that why you’ve never told anyone that you can do it all by yourself?”

The other four were silent and strained, waiting for Marit’s answer.

“Uncle Alex knows,” Marit said.

Brody glanced at him, then back at Marit. “But no one else knows, do they?”

Marit gave an oddly adult-sounding sigh. “I didn’t want to scare you and Far.”

Veris gave a hollow laugh.

Brody held his hand out to Marit, and she took it. “Marit, do you know where Mommy is?”

She nodded.

“Can you take me there?”

It seemed like a very long time before she answered. “I can take both you and Far, Daddy. The queen lady should take Uncle Alex and Uncle Rafe.”

“The queen lady?”

She pointed to Sydney. “Sydney Morrigan.”

Sydney dropped her arms from the defensive pose. “That is my second name,” she said. “My real second name. But how did you know it, Marit?”

Brody frowned. “Mór Ríoghain,” he said. “It’s Irish, for a great queen.”

“You told me,” Marit replied.

* * * * *

The argument this time was even more bitter.

“We can’t just jump into the unknown, with Marit,” Veris declared. “She’s untried, we don’t even know if she’s just saying she can to please us.”

“She’s not lying,” Alex said, and this time his voice was stronger. Also, he could feel the start of blood fever building in him. He would have to feed very soon. If he could get on his feet.

“I don’t care if she’s lying or not,” Brody said. “We can’t take a child into a place we just know is going to become a battlefield. Veris if you want to go with Sydney, be my guest. I’ll gladly give up my place if it means Marit stays here and safe.”

Marit walked over to Brody and picked up his hand and looked up at him. “I’ll be fine, Daddy. Let me take you. Let me help bring Mommy home.”

Brody scrubbed at his hair in frustration. “You don’t know that, Marit. You know how nasty the queen is. She won’t spare you just because you’re little.”

“She does know that,” Alex insisted. He sat up all the way. “Marit sees across the timescape whenever she wants to. She knows she’ll be safe, because she has seen it already. That’s why she found me when I was there. She is everywhere, all the time.”

Marit looked up at Veris. “Listen to him, Daddy. He knows.”

Veris was frowning. “You needed Alex to explain it because you don’t have the vocabulary—the words—to explain it. Not here and now.”

She nodded. “But I’m learning as fast as I can.” Her gray eyes, identical to Taylor’s, were solemn.

Veris sighed one last time, and looked at Brody. “You don’t want to stay back here while we bring Taylor home. Neither does Marit. I can’t gainsay either of you.”

* * * * *

Rafe acquired a blood bag from God knows where. Alex didn’t care at that point. He fell upon it hungrily and didn’t give a damn that Sydney and Marit were still in the room. The stale taste of stored blood didn’t bother him either. Not this time.

Veris wouldn’t let him feed from Sydney even though she had volunteered. “I don’t want her weakened from blood loss,” he said shortly. “And we’re going to wait until you have your full strength back, too, Alex. It doesn’t matter how long we take to jump, at this end. We could take three hours or three weeks and still arrive at the right time and place. It’s what happens at the other end that will need careful timing.”

It took another two days to be ready. In that time, Sydney went back to work for the day, at Veris’ insistence. “You have to maintain your current life for now,” he said. “Later, you may want to start making decisions about changes, but not now. You have to keep up the human façade.”

Rafe also went off to his chambers for the day, and that seemed to convince Sydney more than anything else that the human front to their lives had to be maintained.

While Sydney and Rafe worked, Alex lay in the chair with his feet up, feeling his strength return with each passing hour. Later that night, when Marit and Sydney were both asleep upstairs, he found he could walk around the room. He no longer felt arthritic. Instead, it felt like it had when he was human and had gone through a tough battle. The soreness told him he had abused muscles while mentally wandering, and his vampire healing wasn’t kicking in as fast as it would normally.

Rafe came downstairs and slipped into the library, a dark shadow in the low light.

“She’s asleep?” Alex asked.

“Finally.” He looked at him directly. “She’s scared, but she won’t show it. Not even to me.”

The ache was back in Alex’s chest. “Everything, all of this, it’s new to her. Give her time.”

“I suppose that is one thing I can give her in abundance,” Rafe said. He was still looking at Alex.

“What?” Alex asked, dropping back into the chair with a tired sigh.

“That first time you and Sydney time travelled back to the desert….”

Alex worked his shoulders and neck, trying to massage out the stiffness. “What about it?”

“Brody, Taylor and Veris figure they don’t need to kiss to make the jump, because the intimate connection between them is so strong, now. But they did the first few times. So how did you and Sydney get to the desert?”

Alex couldn’t find an answer that would satisfy Rafe. In truth, he hadn’t considered this at all. So he just looked Rafe in the eye. “It didn’t mean anything,” he said. “I think she may have forgotten that I kissed her, in all that followed.”

Rafe shook his head. “It meant something,” he said softly. “But you’re too honorable to do anything about it.”

Alex’s pulse leapt. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying nothing. Forget I spoke.” Rafe left Alex alone with his swirling thoughts and speculations.

* * * * *

They all met in the library and this time Mia was on hand.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” Veris said. “If it’s like we usually experience, then we’re all going to look like we’re asleep. It’s alarming, but all you have to do is make sure nothing disturbs us. We won’t be long. This is in and get the hell out as fast as we can. Nothing fancy.”

Mia nodded.

No one picked up any weapons, for they would not arrive with them at the other end. Instead, they sorted themselves into the two groups; Alex with Sydney and Rafe, and Marit, looking small and vulnerable, with Veris and Brody. Veris picked Marit up, so that she was at the same height as the two of them. “You’re sure about this?” he asked.

She nodded and wrapped her small arms around their necks.

Alex tore his gaze away from the three of them. It was one thing to say he had seen her within the timescape and therefore knew she could navigate time. It was quite another thing to see a small child taken into battle.

Rafe and Sydney were standing with their arms linked, their hands around each other’s waists, waiting for him.

Alex hesitated.

Rafe held out his arm. “Come here, idiot.”

Alex stepped into his arm, and Sydney slid hers around his back. Alex found Rafe’s hand behind Sydney, and picked up Sydney’s at Rafe’s back. Sydney looked up at them. “Who gets to kiss me?” she asked, with a small smile.

“Athair, Far, kiss me,” Marit demanded, behind Alex.

Rafe leaned forward and his lips met Sydney’s and Alex closed his eyes. The tidal surge took him.

Chapter Eighteen

The first thing Sydney noticed was that the room was long and low-lit. Then she looked out through the ranked windows along one wall, and saw that it was the day itself that was dark. Thick black clouds billowed outside and lightning roiled within them. Rain was spattered against the windows, too.

There was a table at one end of the room, and a very slender, almost emaciated woman was sitting at the head of it.

All around the edge of the room, people stood watching the woman at the table. It reminded Sydney eerily of a king’s court. Then she realized that was exactly what this was. A queen’s court, one of the most mundane sorts, with no fancy trimming, no ermine or glittering throne. But a court, all the same. There was even a supplicant standing in the middle of the bare floor in front of the table.

Taylor.

That was all Sydney had time to take in before there was a whisper of sound, one that she had only ever heard in the movies before. It was a sword being drawn, then a clash of steel.

She looked over. Veris and Brody still stood together, their arms linked. But the third person in their group was a tall woman with long, coppery hair and gray eyes. She had drawn a sword and thrown it up to shield Veris’ back, for the people—the vampires—had attacked immediately.

“Stop them!” the woman at the table screamed. Tira, Sydney presumed.

“Marit?” Brody asked the woman next to him, sounding dazed.

She smiled at him. “I told you everything would work out, Athair. You need to learn to trust, sometimes.” Then she stepped to one side, around Veris, and swung the sword, thrusting the attacking blade away and parrying expertly.

“My sword,” Veris said, sounding just as dazed.

“Mine, now,” Marit said breathlessly. “I could do with some help,” she added.

Veris and Brody shook off their confusion and leapt into the battle.

“Taylor!” Sydney called, for it was Sydney’s job to collected Taylor. Taylor spotted her and began to run toward her, while Rafe and Alex leapt to defend her back and flanks. Everyone but Marit was fighting bare handed.

“No!” Tira screamed and thrust the table away from her. It flipped and tumbled onto its back and Tira leapt at Rafe, who was closest to her. She landed on his back, but Rafe shrugged her off and with an inhuman snarl, sent her rolling across the floor.

With a scream of her own, Tira jumped back onto her feet and this time launched herself at Alex.

Sydney caught her breath as Veris stepped in between them and Tira thudded against his big shoulders. Veris growled, his huge hands closing around her neck.

Tira clawed at him, tearing at his throat. He held her away from him, but her fingers made contact. It looked like a flicker of her fingertips, but blood sprang at his neck and flowed down. He gripped her throat and shook her like a rag doll, then threw her away.

The four of them, Brody and Veris, Alex and Rafe, started to work through the defending vampires, heading for Sydney. Once they coalesced around Sydney, with Taylor between them, they could all jump home.

“Marit!” Brody cried.

Marit stood at their backs, her sword swinging, moving backward as they progressed. Her long, slender body swayed and worked as she hewed at the hands and teeth trying to reach her. “Ready when you are!” she shouted back.

Tira screamed. This time, the sound was high pitched, a frightening sound that made the hair on the back of Sydney’s neck try to stand up.

“To me, Marit,” Veris said sharply and Marit turned, spinning, to step up against his flank, her sword ready, as Tira climbed over the back of her own people, and dropped on them.

Veris caught her by the throat. Sydney watched with an awed horror as his fingers dug into her thin flesh. She knew that Veris was going to tear the queen’s throat out, and there was a kernel inside her that cheered at the idea, even as her viscera cramped and roiled.

Marit was herding Veris backward even as he worked to fight off the queen’s hands and teeth, and at the same time get a better grip on her neck. His own throat was covered in blood, but it had been a shallow cut, or he had already healed. It wasn’t slowing him down at all.

They were all very close to Sydney now. She could reach out and touch Alex and Taylor. Rafe, Brody, Veris and Marit were the rear guard, right behind them.

Taylor reached for Sydney, her arms up.

“No!” Tira cried, the sound choked. She kicked herself forward, using one of her people’s heads for purchase. The momentum pushed her forward in a powerful surge, over Veris’ head.

Sydney watched Tira reach out toward Taylor. Her hand curled around Taylor’s throat and swept across it.

With a roar, Veris thrust her back, his hand coming away from her throat bloody and gored. Tira fell.

Sydney leapt forward as blood cascaded down Taylor’s throat in a red, gleaming sheet. She clamped her hand over the cut and squeezed. “Now!” she screamed. “Jump! Everyone jump!”

It wasn’t the plan. The plan had fallen apart. Instead, everyone reached into the middle of the circle, where Sydney and Taylor were standing. They gripped hands, shoulders, whatever they could reach, while they defended themselves with the other hand.

Sydney caught Marit’s keen gaze as the group came together.

Marit nodded. “Now!” she said.

Sydney closed her eyes and jumped, not letting go of Taylor. She could feel the others come along with her. She was bringing them home and part of her was fiercely jubilant.

* * * * *

Sydney could feel herself falling down onto the tiles, but her hand was still gripping Taylor, and Taylor was dropping with her.

Sydney blinked and struggled to sit up, as she realized they had made it. The big library was around them once more. “Veris!” she called desperately, as Taylor sagged against her. Taylor was choking, gasping in a bubbly way that Sydney didn’t stop to analyze. “Veris, get over here!”

Mia stepped over and around them, moving in. “Oh God, oh God, Jesus Maria,” she breathed.

Brody almost threw Mia aside. “Taylor! Taylor!”

He tried to yank Sydney’s hand out of the way, but Sydney held on grimly. “No, Brody. If I let go, she’ll bleed out.”

Taylor was shifting on the tiles, trying to speak. Her eyes were on Brody.

Veris dropped to his knees beside her. “Ah…gods!” He touched her, little helpless touches. He, like Alex, would know absolutely what the outcome was to be.

Brody made a choking sound and bent his head until he rested against Taylor’s shoulder. His shoulders were shaking.

Sydney’s vision blurred as the tears welled.

Rafe dropped down beside Veris. “Make her,” he said urgently. “Turn her.”

Veris’ throat worked. “She can’t swallow. We can’t get the blood to her heart.” His voice was a raw whisper.

Alex heaved himself to his feet and ran out of the room. Sydney had never seen anyone move so fast.

Veris’ face worked and he closed his eyes for a moment. Then he reached out for Sydney’s wrist and lifted her hand away.

Sydney could feel the blood running as she released the pressure and she held back a sob. Rafe’s arms came around her and she shuddered against him, wracked by tears, but she couldn’t look away as Veris leaned down and kissed his wife on the forehead, then the lips, and murmured something in a language she didn’t know.

Brody kissed her, too, and brushed her hair away from her face. His hand was shaking.

Then they both bent over her once more, and were still.

Sydney hid her face then. It was too painful to watch. Even Rafe was trembling.

“Here. Brody, give me your arm. Hurry up!” It was Alex, speaking in sharp commanding tone, one that would tolerate no argument.

Sydney looked up. So did Brody. “She’s dead, Alex,” he said brokenly.

“Yes, yes, just give me your stupid arm,” Alex said, and grabbed his wrist. He was holding a syringe…an incredibly long syringe. “There’s still time,” he said. “If we inject straight into her heart and massage it….”

Veris straightened up. There was hope in his eyes.

Alex pushed the syringe into Brody’s vein and began to slowly extract the sluggish, thick blood.

“Like in Constantinople, Veris,” Rafe said quietly.

Veris rolled up his sleeve with his bloody hand. “Both of us,” he said. “Half Brody, half mine.”

Alex hesitated. “Will that even work?” he asked.

“Do it,” Brody said shortly. He yanked at Alex’s hand, so the syringe withdrew.

Veris held out his arm and Alex slid the needle under his flesh and extracted the more blood, filling the syringe. He pulled the needle out, and Veris held out his hand. “I’ll do it.”

Alex smiled at him. “I understand you want to, but your hand is shaking. It has to be me.”

Veris shuffled aside on his knees, making room for Alex. Alex turned and tore Taylor’s shirt open. The shirt was sodden with blood and her chest was covered in it.

Alex used his fingers to measure from her clavicle and up from the bottom of her breastbone, and rested over a point just above the cup of her bra. Then, with no hesitation, he pushed the syringe into her chest, vertically, until it could go no further. Then slowly, with heavy pressure on the plunger, he injected all the blood in the syringe. He tossed the syringe aside and leaned down to listen, his ear not quite touching her chest.

“Massage,” Veris said quietly.

Alex nodded and got up onto his knees. He pressed the heels of both hands, stacking one on the other, against her breast bone. He pushed down with a hard, fast pressure and her breastbone creaked.

“It doesn’t matter if you break bones,” Brody said. “Faster.”

Alex pressed faster, making the vampire blood in the heart circulate through her system.

Sydney found she was holding her breath. “Will she wake?” she asked Rafe.

He was watching with a peculiar intensity, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You smile?” she asked.

“Old memories,” he told her. “From when I was human.” He kissed her temple. “As soon as her heart begins to beat, the magic will take over.”

“Magic?”

“There is no other name for what happens now,” he said gravely. “Watch.”

“But he used two different kinds of blood,” Sydney pointed out. “What if it doesn’t work?”

Alex paused, his hands hovering over Taylor, and leaned down to listen again. Then he straightened up, and smiled at Brody and Veris. “Listen.”

Brody rested his ear against Taylor’s chest. Then he closed his eyes and squeezed them tightly shut, and took in a deep, shuddering breath, sat up, and hugged Veris.

Alex lifted Taylor up into his arms and got to his feet. He made it look like he was carrying nothing. “Mia, what bed can I put her on? She will need to be washed and cleaned, and someone will have to watch her until she wakes.”

Mia nodded. “This way,” she said, heading toward the foyer.

Rafe lifted Sydney’s chin, making her look at him. “Were you serious when you said you would feed Alex, earlier?”

She nodded. “I don’t know what’s involved, but yes.”

“Then, if you’re still willing, Taylor will need to feed from someone when she wakes, and you’re the only human left in the house, besides Mia and the children.”

Sydney bit her lip. “Does it hurt?”

“Not after the first moment,” Rafe assured her. “And Taylor will be gentler with you than Brody was with me.”

Brody sniffed and looked over his shoulder at Rafe. “Like I had a clue who you were. You were food on the hoof. Be thankful I didn’t drain you.”

Veris sighed and stood up. He looked over at the farthest chair, which sat outside the large pool of blood on the floor that they were all sitting and standing in.

Marit was on the chair, her legs kicking.

“Marit, did you see all of that?” Veris asked, and there was dismay in his voice.

“Yes,” she said, sounding neither upset, nor happy. Then she lifted one leg over the other, crossing her knees. Her hand came to rest on the arm of the chair. It was an adult posture. Her focus shifted. “I let her see it,” she said. “It was important that she understand.”

“Marit,” Brody said, wiping his bloody hands on his jeans. “The older Marit,” he added.

“The one who had the honor of fighting next to you this day,” Marit said. They were adult words, but spoken through a young girl’s mouth. “Mother will be stronger now. The queen will never be able to reach her again.”

“You knew this would happen,” Veris said.

“You forget. What you are experiencing today is my personal history.”

Brody gripped Veris’ wrist and squeezed. “Thank you for your help today,” he said gravely.

Marit smiled. “I thought you would remember that we must borrow the bodies of ourselves. I thought you would be ready, but you were so very surprised. I’m glad to know I can surprise you both, even after all this time.”

Veris’ eyes narrowed. “Then where we went today, where the queen came from…”

“It is your future,” Marit said. “And I will see you there.” Then she looked down at her crossed knees and frowned, then looked up at them once more. “Did I do something wrong, Far?” she asked, hopping off the chair with a little skip. “You look all growly.”

“You did nothing wrong,” Veris assured her. “Not one tiny thing.”

* * * * *

Rafe carefully lifted Sydney’s wet hair out of the way and peered at her neck. “Is it at all sore?” he asked.

“No, not anymore. Not since you licked me.” Sydney rolled her eyes at him.

Alex put a mug of tea in front of her and she breathed in the scent and sighed. “He just wanted to taste your blood,” he said. “Taylor saved him ripping your artery open himself.”

Sydney stared at him, her eyes wide.

“He’s joking of course. Although you do taste divine. Very spicy.”

“There’s an enzyme in our saliva,” Alex added, settling on another of the stools at the counter. “It heals wounds after we feed. Otherwise we’d leave a litter of humans with carved-up pulmonary arteries in our wake.”

“What a surreal conversation to be having in such a wonderful and ordinary kitchen,” Sydney said, looking around. This was Rafe’s house and it was the first time she had seen it.

Coming here was a purely pragmatic decision. “My place is closest by miles,” Rafe had said. “We’re all covered in blood, and you’re probably starving, Sydney, and I can offer simultaneous showers. I don’t think either of you have more than one bathroom apiece.”

That had been after Taylor had woken and fed, in the early hours of the morning. Veris and Brody had taken Sydney into the bedroom. “She’s not going to know who you are,” Brody had warned her. “All she wants to do is feed. We’ll control her and make sure she doesn’t overwhelm you. But keep eye contact with her, if you can. She knows you and she might recognize you once the first of the blood fever has worn off.”

Sydney still walked into the room with her knees shaking. She was glad Veris and Brody were with her, for Taylor leapt upon her as soon as the door closed, cutting off the light in the passage outside. She made a terrible, inhuman sound, but Veris and Brody grabbed her and held her back, straining to control her between them.

“Come closer,” Veris, said.

Sydney stepped up in front of Taylor, looking her in the eye as Brody had said. Then she deliberately swept the hair off her neck, exposing it. Taylor growled and for the first time, Sydney saw vampire fangs. They were not as long as in the movies, but they were very sharply pointed. Taylor had her mouth open, ready to batten on to her.

“Easy, now,” Brody breathed. The two of them eased Taylor closer, until her mouth fastened onto Sydney’s neck.

There was a sharp pain, like a sting, then it was gone. Instead, a rush of scalding need poured through her. Sydney moaned, as her clit throbbed and her nipples sharpened. The need to be fucked, hard and long, was like a neon sign in her mind. She could think of nothing else, not even the odd sucking sensation at her neck. She closed her eyes and gave into the erotic storm, letting her thoughts drift….

And that was when she found Brody lifting her back onto her feet. She looked around, then cried out as her neck twinged. Brody touched it. “Rafe or Alex will be able to fix that for you. It’s just temporary.

“Sydney.” It was Taylor’s voice.

Sydney looked over at her. Veris had hold of her arm, but Taylor was looking at her with a puzzled expression. “You’re Sydney.”

“Yes,” Sydney confirmed.

“The one in love with both of them.”

Sydney jumped.

“And that’s about enough for now, I think,” Brody said, escorting her from the room. Alex was waiting outside and Rafe was at the bottom of the stairs, blankets over his arms for them to sit on while they drove to his place for showers and food. They had taken Alex’s car and on the way, Rafe had eased her shirt away from her neck and licked her flesh, where it was bruised and aching. Her skin had tingled and grown hot, but then both the tingling and the ache had disappeared.

It was very late and quite dark when they had arrived at the house, and Sydney had been unable to see much of the outside of it, except to know that it was big. Most of the lights were off, inside, but she caught glimpses of mahogany paneling, and felt soft wool pile under her feet. Rafe led them both upstairs, to a bedroom each with an en suite, before heading to his own.

The shower had been wonderful. Long, hot and relaxing. It was so very good to be clean once more and when she stepped out of the shower, she found a guest robe folded up on the counter.

When she stepped outside the bedroom, she could smell coffee, and almost ran downstairs to find the kitchen. Alex and Rafe were already there, both dressed in robes as well.

That was when Rafe inspected her neck for damage and it reminded Sydney all over again of the rush of overwhelming arousal she had felt when Taylor had fed upon her. “Tell me,” she said, sipping her tea. “Is it normal to feel so…um…” She cleared her throat and started again. “When Taylor was feeding, I felt….” She trailed off again. She knew she was blushing. She could feel the heat.

Alex was suddenly busy tracing out the pattern of the marble.

Rafe grinned. “You know, I went around for days thinking that I was some weird, malformed bugger who got off on being fed from. Veris had to set me straight.”

“Then that was, well, normal?” she asked.

“There’s an aphrodisiac in our bite,” Alex said quietly. “It masks any pain you might feel from the tearing and the feeding.”

Sydney drew in a deep breath. “It was overwhelming,” she said frankly.

“Wait until you try a very old vampire’s essence, then,” Rafe said. He seemed to be the only one that could look at her. “It will take the top of your head off.”

Alex cleared his throat. “I’ll make some eggs for Sydney to eat.”

“You can’t cook toast,” Rafe complained. “Sit down. I’ll make them.” He got to his feet.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you, when she was feeding,” Sydney said, pushing it out in a rush.

Both of them grew very still. Alex lifted his head to look at her.

“Both of you,” Sydney added. “Together.”

Rafe let out his breath. “Finally,” he murmured. He looked at Alex.

Alex frowned. “You can’t take advantage of what she fantasizes about under the influence of a vampire bite! It’s hypocritical!”

“Very well,” Rafe said. “What if I take advantage of what you want, instead?”

“Me?”

Sydney’s heart leapt. She watched Alex, barely daring to hope. Rafe was easing around the counter. Slowly, step by step. Stalking him.

Alex pushed back on the stool, giving himself room. He was a predator. He knew when he was being hunted, instead of being the hunter.

Sydney let out a breath as it all came together in her mind, in one sweeping gestalt. The answer to the dilemma, the thing she really wanted. She slipped off her stool and slowly stepped closer to Alex. Rafe had farther to travel around the back of the counter, but Alex was watching him closely. She could sneak right up on him.

She was standing at Alex’s shoulder by the time Rafe stepped around the corner and moved the last stool out of the way. He rested his back against the counter and crossed his arms. The robe fell open, showing most of his leg and thigh. “I couldn’t figure out why you kissed Sydney, the kiss that sent you both back to the desert. You’d already walked away from her—”

“It wasn’t my choice,” Alex said, and his voice was rough.

Rafe nodded. “And I was the one who walked on you, too. But you have all that pride and tradition going on. I assumed that once I walked, you’d never look back. Same with Sydney…but you kissed her anyway.”

Alex stared down at the counter. He was breathing hard. “I don’t know why,” he said heavily.

“Yes, you do,” Rafe told him. “You love her.”

Alex closed his eyes and didn’t answer.

Rafe put his hands around his face and lifted it. “Look at me,” he demanded.

Alex opened his eyes.

“You love me, too,” Rafe said evenly, letting him go. “No one lets go of their own happiness as easily as you did, unless you want the other two in the triangle to be happy. Both of them.”

Alex swallowed. “It was the reasonable thing—”

“No.” Sydney shook her head. “Rafe is right. You love him. And me.” And warmth flooded through her at the thought. “Why are you fighting this?”

Alex shuddered and looked down at his knees again. “How do I know I’m not…that I don’t just want you because it will give me exactly what I want?”

Sydney blinked and looked at Rafe. Rafe was studying Alex’s head. “You’re talking about Brody and Veris, aren’t you?” he asked softly. “You want what they have. All of it. The three of them, the kids…”

Sydney gasped and stepped backward, and Rafe shot out his hand and caught her wrist in a vise-like grip. “No, no, no, you don’t get to run away again,” he said softly. “That’s why you ran the first time, isn’t it? Alex told you how badly he wanted a family. Children.”

Alex lifted his head and was finally looking at her. “The hysterectomy,” he said slowly. “You can’t have children.”

Tears sprang in her eyes, hot and hard as bullets. “This is all there is of me,” she said, “and all there ever will be.”

She didn’t see him move, but Alex was suddenly kissing her. It was heavenly, and stole her breath and she had to force herself to remember not to lean into a jump, but to stay with his kiss. To immerse herself in it.

“Any time you’re ready,” Rafe said. He didn’t sound pissed.

Sydney was gasping by the time Alex let her go. Alex looked into her eyes. “You yourself is more than enough,” he said softly. Then he let her go and got to his feet. His head was a few inches higher than Rafe’s, so he bent and kissed him.

Sydney became breathless all over again. The sight of them kissing was powerfully moving and when Rafe groaned, she thought she might pass out. It was better than she had dreamed up in the throes of vampire ecstasy. It was arousing as hell.

Finally, Alex rested his head against Rafe’s and just looked at him. They were both breathing hard.

“Love you,” Rafe muttered. “Didn’t want to, but I do. Just like I love Sydney.”

“I know.” Alex straightened and picked up Sydney’s hand. “We’ve all been fools, but let’s end that now.”

Rafe stepped aside. “You know the way.”

Alex led her back through to the stairs, and Sydney knew where he was taking her. Rafe was just behind her and she shivered as she thought of what lay ahead. Was she really ready for this?

The one who loves them both. Taylor’s voice, slurry with the after-effects of feeding and being a newly awakened vampire.

Yes, she loved them both. And by some miracle, they both loved her. What came next would be perfect, no matter what happened.

Chapter Nineteen

It was very quiet in Rafe’s big house, as they made their way along the sumptuous hallway to his bedroom. Somewhere downstairs an old cuckoo clock chimed the half-hour then grew still.

Alex pushed open a door and stepped back. “Rafe, this is your place.”

Rafe brushed past them both. “What’s mine is yours. Get used to the idea.” He kissed Alex briefly, then picked Sydney up and carried her into the room and put her on her feet in the middle of it.

There was a large bed that dominated the far wall. It was a huge thing—larger than king sized. Sydney had never seen anything so big. “Why would you want such a large bed?” she asked Rafe. “You don’t even sleep in it.”

“But my family have. Many times. I’ve spent dozens of nights laying and watching children dreaming. There is nothing more peaceful than the sound of a child sleeping.”

Sydney’s heart lurched and Rafe must have sensed it, because he cupped her cheek with his palm. “Don’t trouble yourself about it,” he told her. “There are always ways to get what you want. For now, what do you really want?”

Alex was standing behind her. Sydney could feel him at her back. She took another calming breath. “Both of you,” she said. “But I have no idea where to start.”

Alex kissed her neck. “I think we can handle that,” he murmured. He turned her face up to his and kissed her properly. She sighed into his mouth. She had missed his kisses.

When Rafe’s lips touched her flesh between the opening of the robe, Sydney jumped. Rafe settled his heavy hands around her waist. “Shhh…” he murmured against her skin. “Relax and enjoy this.”

She had no idea how she was supposed to relax, especially when Alex’s mouth slid from hers and wandered down the side of her throat. Two mouths on her at once wasn’t just double the pleasure. It outshone anything she had ever experienced.

Her robe loosened and she wasn’t aware of Rafe untying the belt. But his lips pushed past the toweling, anointing the skin between her breasts, which were almost exposed, down beyond them to her belly, making her muscles twitch in response. He stopped and stood up again, and so did Alex.

“Definitely the bed,” Alex said as if he was agreeing with Rafe.

This time Alex picked her up and carried her over to the huge bed and placed her on what might have been the center, but it was hard to tell. There was plenty of room for both of them as they settled on either side of her.

Overhead, she could see herself spread upon the bed, and Alex and Rafe looking down on her. Her excitement spilled through her.

Rafe gently picked up the front of her robe and peeled it to one side, exposing her breast and her pussy. She had been naked in front of them both before, but now she felt like it was for the first time.

Alex gave a low growl and dropped his head to her breast and drew the tip into his mouth. Sydney rolled her head back as he played with the nipple, and groaned aloud as Rafe’s hand closed around the other one. Her pussy was throbbing, empty and unclaimed, but she watched in the mirror and could feel his hand sliding down over her hip, and onto her thigh. So close…so close! Her thigh fell open in invitation, but instead he moved his hand down to her knee. She groaned in frustration.

Alex lifted his head and looked at what Rafe was doing. She saw his quick smile. “Two can play at that,” he whispered. He straddled her other leg, and she caught her breath as he tossed his robe onto the floor. His cock was thick and hard, red with anticipation. As Rafe’s hand fluttered along her inner thigh, Alex tugged open his robe, and pulled it aside.

Alex was as ragingly erect as Rafe was. Sydney caught her breath as Alex slid his hand over Rafe’s thigh, up high, almost brushing his balls. His thumb teased, closer and closer, and Rafe began to breathe harder. At the same time, he slid his own hand up higher and higher, closer to her tormented pussy lips. Then Rafe rolled away with a groan, pulling his hand away from her and Sydney stifled her own moan of disappointment.

Alex smiled and sat up on his knees. “That sounded like a protest,” he said and leaned over and picked her up, his hands around her waist. Sydney stifled a gasp as he lowered her down over his knees, spreading her thighs wide. His cock reared up between them, but she wasn’t touching him at all. “I can feel you,” she said. “I can feel heat.”

Alex kissed her. “With a strong enough heartbeat, we can feel as warm as a human. But we can’t sustain it for long.” His hands slid up from her waist to her breasts and he began to stroke them, his fingers sliding along the swell, and bumping over her nipples. It was a light touch that never stopped moving, and Sydney arched, her breath coming fast, her whole body tingling at the touch. She wanted more, but Alex continued the light torture.

“Rafe,” he murmured.

“Would love to,” Rafe said from behind her. Alex’s hands were replaced by Rafe’s and he did not continue the featherweight teasing. Instead, his hands cupped her breasts and squeezed gently. He shifted his fingers so that her nipples were captured in between and squeezed again, drawing them out.

Sydney caught at Alex’s shoulders for balance. She couldn’t stop shifting on his thighs as the shooting sparks of pleasure made her body tingle. Her clit was throbbing heavily.

Alex slid his hand between her thighs, and stroked the length of her cleft, from anus to clit and she gasped. Then he did it again, only this time, his fingers dipped into her pussy. She could hear the slick sound and could feel the way his finger slipped inside her with no resistance. “Mmm…” Alex murmured. “Clearly, you don’t like this at all.”

“Let me feel,” Rafe said and one of his hands dropped away. He ran his fingers over her ass cheek, then between them and deeper, between her thighs. She felt his bigger fingers push up inside her, along with Alex’s.

“The heat is amazing,” Rafe said. He kissed the back of her shoulder. “Alex is right. You hate this.”

Sydney couldn’t answer. Her whole consciousness was focused upon the hands on her body…in her body. Already, she could feel her orgasm blooming.

Rafe drew his hands back through her cleft, bringing with them her copious juices. He pressed against her ass and she responded by pressing back. It was instinctive, and it would tell him how much she wanted him to push deeper.

He stroked the opening of her pussy, gathering more moisture, his fingers tangling with Alex’s, then he drew backward once more and plunged them into her.

Sydney clamped down on both of them, a deep groan pulling out of her.

Alex was watching her closely, measuring her responses, and her groan made him smile. Then his thumb touched her clit and Sydney grasped at his shoulders quickly, drawing in a shocked, choked cry.

“Together,” Rafe murmured.

Their hands—all their hands—began to move in synchronized beats. They had a hand each on her breasts, and they did not neglect her nipples, drawing them out in steady strokes. Rafe plundered her back passage, while Alex drove his fingers deep into her pussy. With each withdrawal, his thumb stroked her clit.

The delicious chafing and probing was overwhelming. Sydney threw her head back, her eyes drifting closed. She started to tremble almost violently as the pleasure washed through her in increasingly powerful waves. Her climax gathered, leaping to life.

But just before she came, Alex whispered, “Slow, very slow,” and both of them eased their assault on her.

Sydney groaned, as she hovered on the verge of what felt like the most powerful climax she had ever experienced. It was just out of reach, and her nerves were fizzing, every one of them at the peak of sensitivity.

Alex and Rafe slowed their touch, teasing her, keeping her quivering on the very point of coming, in exquisite agony. Sydney lost all sense of externalities. She floated on the pleasure, moaning almost constantly. She might have stayed there for days. She didn’t know, and didn’t care. Time had lost all meaning.

“Now,” Alex said, and they battered their way into her, their strokes speeding up, roughening. Devouring her.

Sydney’s climax swirled and rose over her, encompassing every sense. She might have screamed, she couldn’t hear for the thundering in her head and the pleasure tearing through her. Her whole body clamped and held still for an aeon, bathing in the ultimate delight.

It seemed to take forever for the climax to subside. Little aftershocks of pleasure rippled through her, leaving her panting.

Alex was shifting underneath her, and this time Rafe lifted her, but not far. She was inched forward and lowered again, and this time, Alex’s cock slid into her with no resistance at all.

Alex lay back on the bed and pulled her down against his chest and Sydney looked into his eyes. He kissed her.

Rafe was behind her. She felt him settle over her. His weight didn’t touch her, but his arm pushed into the mattress by her shoulder, the tendons quivering. His cock pushed up against her, and it was slippery with lubricant. He pulled her hair back over her shoulder. “Relax,” he said. “This will feel very different compared to anything you’ve ever tried.”

He nudged his way inside, a small fraction of an inch at time.

“Breathe,” Alex murmured.

Sydney tried to remember to breathe, but her attention was almost purely on the delight she was feeling. As Rafe slid fully inside her, she sighed. “I so hate this,” she whispered.

Alex laughed and she could feel his chest reverberating with his humor, beneath her.

“Very tight,” Rafe remarked, settling his hand on Sydney’s hip. “This will end both of us much too fast.”

“There’s always next time,” Alex said. “Like Sydney, I think this is a terrible thing. We should repeat it often.”

“Very often,” Sydney murmured.

“I can feel you, inside her,” Alex said, as Rafe shifted.

“Very fast,” Rafe muttered. He gave another small thrust and Alex caught his breath.

Sydney had never felt so full in her life, and she loved it.

“Together,” Rafe said.

Sydney gasped as they both withdrew, then pushed back into her. As they began to thrust together, she gripped the bedcover under her hand, breathing in hard little pants. She couldn’t breathe any other way.

Her orgasm didn’t build, this time. It grabbed onto her, arriving fully formed and huge. She stopped breathing as it stormed through her with the rage of a tornado, tearing at nerve endings and swirling through her mind, stealing thoughts and senses. She heard a woman scream and realized the low, throaty and used voice was hers.

She had to blink to bring her sight back into focus and saw Alex’s eyes were narrowed, his jaw clenched. Then he threw out his arm and gripped the cover just as she had done. His knuckles were white as he strained and she could feel his cum spill inside her, for it was hot.

Rafe lasted only one stroke more, then he came with a groan that seemed to be torn from deep inside him. Then he withdrew from her and lifted her off Alex. They fell on to the bed next to him, and Sydney closed her eyes, breathing hard.

“I think I’ve died and gone to Valhalla,” Rafe said.

“Aren’t you Christian?” Alex asked.

“I wasn’t anything. Then I met a pagan Northman, who told me about philosophy and history and…a great many other things,” Rafe said. “He wasn’t a believer, either, but he liked to joke about being taken to Valhalla when…he enjoyed himself.”

Sydney turned her head to look at Rafe. “You’re talking about Veris, aren’t you?”

Rafe nodded and rested his hand across her waist. “A very long time ago, that was.”

Alex pushed himself up on to one elbow. “I have envied those three for years,” he said. “And I envied you for having known them that way.”

Rafe shook his head. “It was centuries ago and besides, now you have what they have. So do I. So do we all. We had to back into it, but now we’re here.” He turned to look at them both. “We’re here,” he repeated and his smile slowly widened.

Sydney bit her lip, trying to hide the little jolt their talk of envy had delivered, but Alex must have sensed it, for he touched her face and traced her jaw softly. “Our family won’t be like their family,” he said. “There will be children. Many of them. We’re family men at heart, so the matter will be arranged, one way or another.”

“You’re talking about adoption?” Sydney said. “It’s not the same.”

“It is. It is exactly the same,” Rafe said. “Ask Brody, who is the father of Marit, who is not his daughter by blood. Do you have any doubt that he doesn’t love her as a father does? Or that Marit isn’t devoted to him?”

Sydney shook her head. She didn’t have to think about it. Marit’s bond with Brody was as strong as the bond she had with Taylor or Veris. “I hadn’t thought of it that way,” she said, then hesitated again. “You…don’t mind? That children would not be of your own blood?”

Rafe laughed. “I really must introduce you to my family.”

Sydney frowned. “You’ve mentioned family before, but I didn’t realize…it’s a real family?”

“Five children,” Alex said. “Seventeen grandchildren, and four great-grandchildren…so far.” He looked at Rafe. “Did I get that right?”

“Five great grandchildren,” Rafe amended. “Emily had a boy two days ago.” He turned Sydney’s head so she was looking at him. “None of them are my blood, but all of them are mine. Now they are yours…and Alex’s.”

Sydney didn’t know what to say. It was too overwhelming. So she kissed him, letting her lips provide the answer. And once she was done, Alex took over, kissing Rafe as long and as hard as she had, even as his hand curled around hers possessively.

* * * * *

She woke to the distant sound of rain on the roof and against the windows. Moonlight filtered through the sheer curtains at the window and Sydney blinked, trying to orient herself.

An arm curled over her waist and she realized that there was a hard body at her back. “It’s barely three,” Rafe whispered against her ear. “Sleep.”

“Where is Alex?”

She felt him chuckled. “He’s gone to walk Bruce. He suddenly remembered him and got all guilty and worried about neglecting him. He’ll be back.”

“Are you staying here in the bed because of me?” Sydney asked.

“Of course.”

“But you don’t need to sleep. You could be doing something. Anything.”

“But you need me to sleep.” He kissed her neck, just below her ear. “Humans sleep better with someone and one of the privileges Alex and I have is to keep you company while you sleep. So sleep. Nothing can reach you here.”

Sydney was already drifting into sleep, put at ease by his soft voice and the crooning words. She woke to daylight and Alex’s arms around her, and knew that she had found the place where she wanted to spend the rest of her life.

Chapter Twenty

“I have to go home and change,” Sydney protested. “I don’t have a stitch to wear that isn’t covered in blood or torn. I’m going to have to go home in a bathrobe as it is. Better to walk through the apartment building when it’s early and there are not too many people around.”

Alex put a big mug of coffee in front of her and kissed her. “Tell me if needs improvement,” he said gravely. “I’ll get better, I’m promise.”

“I washed your clothes last night, while you were sleeping,” Rafe said. “It so happens I know how to launder, as well as cook, two essential skills Alex seems to have by-passed in all his long years. So you have something to wear home, but no, I don’t think you can wear them to the office. They’re a little ratty, now. But no blood stains.”

“I spent my years doing something meaningful,” Alex protested, although he didn’t sound upset at all.

“Raising a family isn’t meaningful?” Rafe asked.

“You’re forgetting, he’s one of the youngest appeal court judges ever appointed,” Sydney pointed out.

Alex snorted. “I save lives.”

“I saved Brody’s,” Rafe pointed out.

“True,” Alex said, sobering.

“Anyway,” Rafe said, standing up and stretching. “What we are and what we do is all back on the table now, isn’t it?

Sydney looked at him, started. “You mean…not work?”

“Or do work you really want to do,” Alex said. “It probably hasn’t occurred to you yet, my lady, but Rafe is filthy rich and I’m doing okay, too.”

Rafe laughed. “He puts Onassis to shame.”

“We all do,” Alex said. “All that time and all that compound interest…it adds up. And we don’t have the incidentals humans do so the money tends to accumulate.”

Sydney put down the jelly covered toast she had picked up, staring at them. “I guess I hadn’t thought about that.”

Rafe gave her a brief smile. “And all your reasons for joining the force have gone, haven’t they?”

Sydney pulled in a deep breath, a feeling of lightness, of relief, building inside her. “Yes, they have,” she said.

“Eat up,” Alex told her. “You have some thinking to do. So must we.”

* * * * *

In the end, Alex drove both her and Rafe to her apartment. Sydney’s car was still at Veris’ house and while she changed, Alex was going to drive Rafe there and he would bring her car back. It meant she would be slightly late for work, but as she was always screamingly early, Sydney didn’t bother stressing about it.

Alex pulled up directly in front of the main doors of her apartment building and kept the engine running. He kissed her, briefly but thoroughly, as Rafe got out of the backseat and opened her door.

When Alex let her go, Rafe helped her out, then pulled her against him and kissed her just as thoroughly. Then he patted her ass and got into the passenger seat and grinned up at her. “I’ll be back in a while to finish that up.”

Alex rolled his eyes.

Sydney couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she headed for the doors, digging out her keys as she went.

As she moved through the cars parked in front of the doors, her arm was grabbed, yanking her backward and almost off her feet. She was pushed up against a truck and an arm rammed across her throat, almost cutting off her breath.

Dark brown eyes stared at her from under a baseball cap. “Hello, cunt-face.”

Sydney swallowed. “Peter?”

“I couldn’t believe it when I got the tip that you were living in little ‘ol L.A., but fuck me…here you are. And my, don’t you look all pretty?”

Peter was older. Much older than he would be in actual years. A life of hard living was catching up with him. Sydney could see an old man looking out from his face. But one thing had not changed. The demonic, angry expression in his eyes was exactly as she remembered it, and the twelve years between here and Wisconsin evaporated. She was suddenly twenty again. Twenty and terrified.

“You’ve lightened up your hair,” Peter said. “All the better to go whoring with, huh?”

She tried to speak, but his arm across her throat wouldn’t let her. All she could do was scream. She drew in her breath, but Peter slapped his hand over her mouth, holding the scream in. She could just breathe over the top of his hand, which was rank with the smell of nicotine and diesel fuel.

“Now, you don’t want to be calling out to anyone, darlin’,” Peter told her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a stubby little knife that he unfolded. The blade looked fat. And huge. The edge was silvered, showing it had been sharpened recently. Sydney stared at the edge of the blade, dazed. Peter had found out where she was and had sprinted to L.A., but he had stopped to sharpen his knife.

You sick bastard! she railed at him silently.

He lifted the knife up and pressed the tip against her cheek. “You and I have some catch-up to do. You owe me. A lot. We need to figure out how you’re going to pay back that debt.”

Sydney moaned as fear swamped her. She couldn’t think. She could barely breathe. From the corner of her eye, she caught movement and looked desperately that way.

Both Alex and Rafe were there, standing on the pavement, watching them. Relief touched her, so sharp and strong she could feel her knees weakening. They would get her out of this. She had absolutely no doubts.

Rafe jerked his head at Peter. “We meet again,” he said quietly.

“This is private business, asshole,” Peter growled. “Move on.”

“I don’t think so,” Alex said. “We’re as involved in this as you.”

Peter turned his head, like he was building up a pithy retort and more exhortations that they go away, but he straightened up and turned to face them. “You!” He was looking at Rafe.

Rafe grinned. “Bet you never thought you’d see me again.”

Peter’s mouth pulled into a nasty smile. “So the cunt went running off with you, after all.” He didn’t telegraph his move, but his arm lashed out sideways and the back of his hand cracked across Sydney’s cheekbone, sending her staggering between the cars.

She held herself upright against the Audi, just barely staying on her feet.

The car rocked under her hand and she looked up, her vision bleary. Alex had Peter by the throat, the other hand gripping the wrist that held the knife. “That was not a smart move,” Alex told him.

“Bite me, runt. I could take two of you for breakfast.”

“You’re just about to,” Alex told him. “And we’ll have you for breakfast.” His teeth descended and he flashed them deliberately.

Peter’s eyes widened and his mouth opened. “What the fuck?” he cried.

Alex lowered his head inch by inch, going for Peter’s throat. Peter struggled and kicked, but nothing dislodged Alex’s grip. Then he straightened, his spine snapping taut and his hand clawed at his chest. His face turned a sickly gray color.

Rafe pushed in between the cars. “Alex, he’s having a stroke or something.”

Alex smiled. “He’s having a heart attack,” he said mildly. “With luck, it will kill him.” He dragged him out from between the cars and dropped him on the pavement. “Someone had better call 911.”

Rafe sighed and pulled out his cellphone. “Damn, I didn’t get to have any fun with him.”

Alex helped Sydney out and was much more gentle with her than he had been with Peter. “Are you all right?” He lifted her chin, looking at her cheek.

“Shouldn’t you care for the critical patient, first?” she asked.

Peter was curled up on his side on the pavement, still clawing at his heart.

“I suppose I must.” Alex dropped into a crouch next to Peter. “So here is the deal, Peter. I hope you’re listening. If you pass out or stop breathing, I’m not going to do anything to revive you. My two witnesses here will swear I made heroic efforts to save you, but if you die, no one is going to care much because you were attacking Sydney when we caught you. So you can fight to live, and I suspect you will live, because you’re one of those ugly survivor types.”

Peter was watching Alex with a mix of horror and fury in his face, along with a heavy dose of pain.

Rafe moved around to where Peter could see him, too. “If you do survive, you ugly sack of worm meal, consider yourself the luckiest bastard alive. Don’t tempt fate. Don’t come back here. Don’t try to find Sydney again. If we ever catch sight of your face again, we’ll pick up where we were interrupted. Do you understand?”

Peter made snuffling sounds. Then he nodded. From not far away, an ambulance siren was coming closer.

Alex patted Peter’s shoulder. “You should think of this heart attack as a good thing for you. Today would have ended much differently, otherwise.” He stood up again and looked at Sydney. “There. I’ve tended him. Now, let’s look at you.”

Sydney threw her arms around him and hid her tears against his shirt.

* * * * *

Captain Baker looked up as Sydney walked into his office, and frowned. “Where the fuck have you been, Lieutenant?” he demanded. “And who are these jokers?”

“This is Judge Rayner De Leon,” Sydney told him. “You may have heard of him. And this is Doctor Alexander Karim.” Alex and Rafe stood at either shoulder and just behind her. They stayed silent.

She dropped Peter’s wallet and cellphone on Baker’s desk. “There are phone calls and text messages on the phone, proving that Yonkers contacted my ex-husband and told him where to find me. In the wallet are more precise written instructions on how to track me down, including my usual movements and locations.” She leaned over his desk. “Yonkers deliberately steered a man with a record of abuse and aimed him directly at me. I could have him kicked out of the force for that. And you, too.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Baker spluttered.

“You told Yonkers and McLeary that I had to be dealt with,” Sydney replied. “When Yonkers said he knew a way, you told him to take care of it.”

Baker stared at her.

“Actually,” Alex said, “he said ‘I don’t want to know.’ Very neat way of dodging the bullet. Except you didn’t, did you?”

Baker looked frightened now. “You’re bugging my fucking office?” he cried.

“Bingo,” Rafe said softly.

“No bug,” Sydney said. “But you just confirmed the details of that meeting for me. Not that I needed convincing anyway. It sounded just like you when I heard it.” She picked up the wallet and the cellphone again. “You’ve got twenty-four hours to resign, Baker. You and Yonkers both. Or I go to Internal Affairs and you’ll lose your pension as well as your job.”

She turned her back on Baker and smiled at Alex and Rafe. Rafe offered her his arm and they walked to the door.

“You fucking bitch!” Baker cried, behind them. “You can’t do this to me!”

“I just did,” Sydney told him and blew him a kiss.

Chapter Twenty-One

Veris and Brody kept hovering around Taylor where she sat quietly on the Craftsman chair that was Brody’s favorite. Marit clung to her knee and Veris kept kissing her, on whatever section of flesh was closest; her hands, her mouth, her forehead. Taylor’s making had upset them and made them appreciate all the more her return to them.

So Alex took over the pouring of champagne, including half an inch in a glass for Marit, and handed them out to everyone. He arranged chairs for Brody and Veris right next to Taylor and forced them into them, and handed them each a glass, too. Then he went off and found Mia, and brought her back to the library and set her up with a glass, and a chair, despite her protests.

Raphael had pulled the sofa over and Sydney was settled down next to him, leaving Alex a seat beside her. Alex came over to the sofa, but stayed on his feet. He held up his glass. “To long life,” he invoked.

Everyone held up their glasses. Sydney frowned as she sipped and the others brought the sparkling liquid to their lips.

“It really is a long life, for all of you, isn’t it?” Sydney asked. “Even Taylor, now.”

Taylor pressed her lips together. “Don’t envy me.”

Alex picked up Sydney’s spare hand. “You would go through what Taylor did for a few more years?” he asked quietly.

“There must be other ways to do it. Gentler ways,” Sydney said.

“There is,” Veris said. “But you would deprive Alex and Rafe the years of living with a human?”

Sydney looked startled.

“There are always two sides to the coin,” Veris said. He picked up Taylor’s hand and kissed it. “I cannot conceive of a life without Taylor in it, and for that to happen, she had to be turned. But I would have asked for more time, if I’d had a choice.”

Sydney’s eyes sparkled. “But now Taylor is safe. Nothing can ever harm her. Surely, that must give you comfort?”

“Nothing comforts me more than knowing you will be here tomorrow,” Alex told her. “Tomorrow, and all the days after it. Anything else that happens we can deal with, as long as you’re here.”

Sydney squeezed his hand. The sparkling in her eyes had turned to gathering tears. “You want me to stay human?”

Rafe sighed. “Yes, we both do,” he said. “For now. I like your human-ness. The heat of your body against mine in bed. Your scent.”

“Don’t rush into any changes,” Brody said. “You’ll find there are big changes you have to make just because you’re together now. Don’t trade off your life because of fear.”

Sydney swallowed and nodded.

“Besides, you have five vampires that call you family,” Veris said, “and any one of them would jump to defend you and solve your problems. Especially Alex and Rafe. That sort of helping is part of what makes living with a human so rewarding.”

Sydney sighed. “There’s so much to learn.”

“Comes from living so long,” Rafe said. “Although we still manage to complicate things in a very human way from time to time.” He glanced at Alex. “All of us,” he added.

Alex lifted his glass again, in a small salute, then looked at Veris. “There’s one thing I haven’t worked out yet. I don’t know if you have. The queen coming after Taylor, that I understood. But why did she try to kill Sydney?”

Veris leaned forward and put his glass on the coffee table. “Marit said that Tira came from our future,” and he rested his hand on Marit’s shoulder for a second. “I have no reason to doubt her. As Tira was driving the same Ford Explorer on both occasions, we have to assume that she came back from the future to deal with both Taylor and Sydney at once. As we can’t think of a single reason why Tira would even know Sydney, let alone want her dead, it has to be something in the future.”

Sydney was squeezing her glass. “Something I did?”

“Marit called Sydney ‘the queen lady’,” Brody said softly, as if he was speaking just to Veris.

Veris frowned. “We can only speculate,” he said slowly. “Clearly, Marit of the future knows Sydney well. Perhaps she knows her well enough to know her middle name, and the meaning of it, and that was what she meant.”

“Or?” Alex asked sharply.

“Or Marit was being literal,” Veris replied, “and somewhere in the future, Sydney becomes a queen.”

* * * * *

When Bruce smashed a porcelain bowl, the third valuable knickknack in twenty minutes, Sydney apologized for the third time. “It’s just for the night,” she told Rafe, as he swept up the shards.

Rafe shook his head. “This house isn’t childproof and hasn’t been for years. We can fix that. Besides, he’s family, too.”

Alex sat on the bottom step of the stairs and watched Sydney calming Bruce down as he settled on the blanket by the bottom of the stairs, and Rafe sweeping. It was a very domestic sight and it made him sigh.

“You’re thinking deep thoughts, my philosophical infidel,” Rafe accused him as he swept up the last of the porcelain.

“Happy thoughts,” Alex admitted.

Sydney brushed her sweaty brow with the back of her wrist. “And they would be?”

“Don’t encourage him,” Rafe told her. “He’ll start talking about the meaning of life and we’ll be here all night. I’d rather be in bed, communicating with my hands and my mouth.”

Alex shook his head. “I was just thinking about how a while ago, I didn’t know if I deserved to call myself a Christian. What I am and what I wanted seemed to be so wrong.”

Neither of them looked appalled, or upset, or anything but interested, and that encouraged him to go on. “This…us…feels so right. I couldn’t understand how what I’ve been taught to think of as a sin, and as me and you, Rafe, as abominations, could make me feel so happy.”

Rafe leaned on the broom. “You’re talking in the past tense. So that means you’ve decided that…?”

Alex shrugged. “I’ve decided that love must be right. No matter what shape it comes in.”

Rafe dropped the broom and kissed him. Then he held out his hand toward Sydney. “Come, my lover. Let’s take him to bed and make him laugh.”

Sydney took his hand and smiled at Alex, a wicked grin. “Can we make him scream, first?”

Epilogue

Marit looked around the long hall with the big black and white tiles on the floor. It looked very familiar to her, even though she knew she had never been to this place before. But it was like a memory….

There was another person at the far end of the hall and they were coming closer to her. As they drew closer, she realized it was a girl. A much bigger girl than her, though. She had hair like hers, too, but it was long and very pretty.

The girl smiled. “Hello, Marit. Do you know who I am?”

Marit caught her breath. “You’re…me.”

The other girl nodded. “I am you, yes. But I’m older than you are now.” She looked around the hall. “This is a special place where we can meet. I’ve been waiting a long time to speak to you.”

“You have?”

The older Marit nodded. “I’ve been waiting until you were old enough to understand some of the things I have to tell you.”

“What things?”

“Many things. We have time, here, to talk about them all. There are also lots of things I can show you. Things for you to learn.”

Marit nodded. “So I can help Mommy, and Athair and Far.”

“And Uncle Alex and Uncle Rafe and Aunt Sydney and Mia.”

“Everyone,” Marit said happily.

“Everyone will need help, yes,” the other Marit said, and for a moment, it seemed she was sad.

The Next Book in the
Kiss Across Time series

Kiss Across Kingdoms, Book 5 in the Kiss Across Time series.

They must go back in time because history says they already have.

Six years have passed since Alex, Rafe and Sydney met and fell in love. Steeped in the stories of time travel by Brody, Veris and Taylor, they have avoided time-jumping, too afraid their every action will change the past and bring disaster upon everyone.

Taylor brings home a book from tenth century Anglo-Saxon England. Within is a hidden cypher that insists Rafe and Sydney must travel back to Powys, the most powerful kingdom of ancient Wales.

But the pair don’t arrive together. Rafe finds himself in the kingdom of Powys, scribe to the king, Llewelyn, as he was when he first lived through that time. Sydney, however, is in the land of the Lady of Mercia. She is a woman alone in a land and time she doesn’t know.

The two must find a way back to each other across the two warring kingdoms, while Alex tries desperately to help them, from eleven centuries into the future….

Warning: This time travel ménage romance features two super-hot alpha vampire heroes, multiple sex scenes, including anal sex, MM sexual play, and MMF sex. Do not read this book if frank sexual language and sex scenes offend you.
The time-space continuum was restored to order at the end of this book. Promise.

This is the fifth book in the Kiss Across Time paranormal series:
Kiss Across Time 1.0:  Kiss Across Time
Kiss Across Time 2.0:  Kiss Across Swords
Kiss Across Time 2.5:  Time Kissed Moments I
Kiss Across Time 3.0:  Kiss Across Chains
Kiss Across Time 4.0:  Kiss Across Deserts
Kiss Across Time 5.0: Kiss Across Kingdoms

[Time Kissed Moments are short stories and novellas featuring the characters and situations featured in the Kiss Across Time series.]

A Time Travel Vampire Romance Novel
___

…and praise for the Kiss Across Time Series:

[She] has created characters that are engaging, unpredictable, outrageously funny and down-right appealing to readers who will steal their hearts.  Shannon for The Romance Studio

I think you’ll be as entertained and affected by the chemistry between the characters as I was. A fast-moving romance that spanned several lifetimes and included a paranormal aspect that was a fun and totally unexpected surprise.  Honeysuckle for Whipped Cream Erotic Romance Reviews

This was a great story with wonderful and surprising plot twists. The chemistry between the three is tangible.  Stacey Krug for Siren Book Reviews

Paranormal erotic romance doesn’t get any more creative than [this].  Chris for Romance Junkies

This is a story, and these are characters, that stay with the reader long after the story is finished. Clare for Happily Ever After Reviews

Not only immensely imaginative, but incredibly ingenious – it’s an unforgettable journey.  Chris for Romance Junkies Reviews

Her ability to create a story that captures readers and characters with depth will keep me coming back for more. Claudia for A Romance Review

She shows the reader how beautiful and seductive two men can be when they unleash their desires for each other. It’s a romance that has a number of elements, all combined to make a very captivating story. I’m looking forward to reading more in this imaginative series. Leslie for Leslie’s Psyche

A thrilling exploration of battle, self-loathing, trust, and a soul-shaking love that time cannot erase. Rhonda for Vampire Romance Books

Buy your copy of Kiss Across Kingdoms, now available at your favourite bookseller!

About the Author

Tracy Cooper-Posey is an Amazon #1 Best Selling Author. She writes romantic suspense, paranormal, urban fantasy, futuristic and science fiction romances. She has published over 55 novels since 1999, been nominated for five CAPAs including Favourite Author, and won the Emma Darcy Award.

She turned to indie publishing in 2011. Her indie titles have been nominated four times for Book Of The Year and Byzantine Heartbreak was a 2012 winner. Faring Soul won a SFR Galaxy Award in 2016 for “Most Intriguing Philosophical/Social Science Questions in Galaxybuilding” She has been a national magazine editor and for a decade she taught romance writing at MacEwan University.

She is addicted to Irish Breakfast tea and chocolate, sometimes taken together. In her spare time she enjoys history, Sherlock Holmes, science fiction and ignoring her treadmill. An Australian, she lives in Edmonton, Canada with her husband, a former professional wrestler, where she moved in 1996 after meeting him on-line.

Other books by Tracy Cooper-Posey

* = Free!

Blood Knot Series (Urban Fantasy Paranormal Series)

Blood Knot*
Southampton Swindle
Broken Promise
Vale
Amor Meus
Blood Stone
Blood Unleashed
Blood Drive
Blood Revealed
Blood Ascendant

Beloved Bloody Time Series (Paranormal Futuristic Time Travel)

Bannockburn Binding*
Wait
Byzantine Heartbreak
Viennese Agreement
Romani Armada
Spartan Resistance

Kiss Across Time Series (Paranormal Time Travel)

Kiss Across Time*
Kiss Across Swords
Time Kissed Moments I
Kiss Across Chains
Kiss Across Deserts
Kiss Across Kingdoms

The Kine Prophecies (Epic Norse Fantasy Romance)

The Branded Rose Prophecy

The Stonebrood Saga(Gargoyle Paranormal Series)

Carson’s Night*
Beauty’s Beasts
Harvest of Holidays
Unbearable
Sabrina’s Clan

Destiny’s Trinities (Urban Fantasy Romance Series)

Beth’s Acceptance*
Mia’s Return
Sera’s Gift
The First Trinity
Cora’s Secret

Interspace Originas (Science Fiction Romance Series)

Faring Soul
Varkan Rise
Cat and Company (Upcoming)

Short Paranormals

Solstice Surrender
Eva’s Last Dance

The Vistaria Affair (Romantic Suspense)

Red Leopard*
Black Heart
Blue Knight
White Dawn

Go-get-‘em Women (Short Romantic Suspense Series)

The Royal Talisman
Delly’s Last Night
Vivian’s Return
Ningaloo Nights

Jewells of Tomorrow (Historical Romantic Suspense)

Diana By The Moon
Heart of Vengeance

Scandalous Sirens (Historical Romance Series)

Forbidden*
Dangerous Beauty
Perilous Princess

Romantic Thrillers Series

Fatal Wild Child
Dead Again
Dead Double
Terror Stash
Thrilling Affair

Short Science Fiction Romane

5,001

Contemporary Romances

Lucifer’s Lover
An Inconvenient Lover

The Sherlock Holmes Series (Romantic Suspense/Mystery)

Chronicles of the Lost Years
The Case of the Reluctant Agent

For reviews, excerpts, and more about each title, visit Tracy’s site and click on each title in turn: http://tracycooperposey.com/books/tracys-trilogies-series/

Copyright Information

This is an original publication of Tracy Cooper-Posey

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

Copyright © 2015 by Tracy Cooper-Posey
Text design by Tracy Cooper-Posey

Cover by Dar Albert
Wicked Smart Designs
http://WickedSmartDesigns.com

Edited by Helen Woodall
http://HelenWoodallFreelanceEditing.blogspot.com/

All rights reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

FIRST EDITION: May 2015

Cooper-Posey, Tracy
Kiss Across Deserts/Tracy Cooper-Posey—1st Ed.

Romance—Fiction
Paranormal – Fiction