Author: Jocelynn Drake; Terri Garey; Caris Roane
Date: 2012-10-23 00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fiction; General; Romance
Description: Just in time for the scariest season of all, three popular paranormal authors come together to tell original tales of romance where Anything can happen under a Halloween moon . . . Tempers flare and passions rise in Jocelynn Drake's Of Monsters and Men as the local werewolf pack clashes with the Winter Court's Wild Hunt . . . In Terri Garey's The Ghoul Next Door , a witch and a warlock battle it out for possession of a haunted house, but the ghost may have her own agenda . . . And, in Trick or Treathen by Caris Roane, a master vampire struggles to stay away from the mortal woman who enflames h
Publisher: Avon Impulse

Blood by Moonlight

JOCELYNN DRAKE, TERRI GAREY, CARIS ROANE

Contents

Of Monsters and Men by Jocelynn Drake

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

The Ghoul Next Door by Terri Garey

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Epilogue

Trick or Treathen by Caris Roane

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

About the Authors

Also by the Authors

Excerpt Announcement page

An Excerpt from The Forbidden Lady by Kerrelyn Sparks

An Excerpt from Turn to Darkness by Jaime Rush

Copyright

About the Publisher

Of Monsters and Men

AN ASYLUM TALES SHORT STORY

JOCELYNN DRAKE

Chapter One

IT WAS ALL Hallows' Eve and Asylum was dead. Of course, not many people stopped by for a tattoo before heading to their Samhain party or escorting the little kiddies around for a night of trick-or-treating. I wasn't complaining since my only company in the shop was Trixie.

"So, what do you have in mind for tonight?" I asked, lounging in a tattooing chair.

The elf in human guise flashed me a wicked grin that whispered of twisted sheets shadowed in flickering candlelight. Pushing away from the counter, Trixie walked over and threw one leg over the chair so she could sit on my lap. "I thought that we'd order a pizza and pick it up on the way to your place. Once there, we'll eat pizza and watch a couple action movies."

"That's it?"

"Well, I figured I would eventually screw your brains out, but I need to eat first. A girl can't survive on sex alone. Er . . . I guess a succubus can, but I need pizza too."

"Not your place? I thought you didn't like my apartment after . . . the incident."

Trixie gritted her teeth for a second. "Yeah, well, Sofie is at my apartment."

I grinned at her. "Your roommate getting on your nerves?"

"No, I love Sofie. I want it to be just us tonight."

"So no witches trapped as cats?"

"And no trolls either, even though I love Bronx." She placed a quick kiss on the tip of my nose and then pulled back, a serious look on her face. "We've been dating for three months, Gage. Three." She waved three fingers in my face to emphasize her point. "I think that's an accomplishment for both of us. I want some time alone. No murderous warlocks, no dark elves, no grim reapers, and no . . . no crazy."

Three months didn't sound like much, but it was different with Trixie. I hadn't dated much, and those rare occasions hadn't been intense, emotionally involved relationships that included the other person knowing about my past. Trixie, on the other hand, took my breath away every time she smiled at me. She was my beating heart and a reminder of why I kept fighting. She kept me whole and sane in a world that was trying desperately to tear me apart. I didn't know what the future held for us. I only knew that I needed her near me.

Slipping a hand behind her neck, I pulled her toward me. "I like this evil scheme of yours," I growled, capturing her lips in a rough kiss. She melted into me with a happy sigh, pressing her breasts against my chest. Common sense said to stop, close the shop, and leave for my apartment, but I didn't want to stop. I was ready to start our night of pizza, movies, and sex now. Unfortunately, all those plans had to be put on hold. Just as my free hand was sliding down to grasp her ass, the chime for the front door tinkled through the parlor.

"Fuck," I muttered, pulled away from Trixie's sweetly parted lips.

"Now?" Trixie asked, sounding slightly dazed. "Sure." She immediately started to pull up my T-shirt so she could get at the button and zipper on my jeans.

I laughed, grabbing her hands to stop her. Holy shit, I loved this woman. "Later. Someone just walked in."

"You're kidding me?" she snapped, her head popping up so that she could see the security monitor that showed the lobby. I looked up to find a familiar face approaching the glass case that served as the counter.

"Powell? You in?" Jack called, leaning forward to try to peer into the main tattooing room.

I cursed silently. "Yeah, I'm here. Come on back," I replied as Trixie pushed to her feet and threw me a warning look.

As Jackson Wagnalls stepped over the threshold, I pulled my T-shirt back down. Not that it completely covered the bulge in my pants, but there was no helping that. Jack's eyes jumped from me to Trixie, who was now leaning against the counter. Her arms were crossed over her chest and there was a frown on her lips. She was not a happy camper and I couldn't blame her.

"Am I interrupting something?" A knowing smirk twisted Jack's mouth.

"Yeah, you are," I snapped. I remained lounging in my chair. Normally I enjoyed irritating Jack--the man didn't like me, but I had other plans that didn't include werewolves. "I was just getting ready to close the shop for the night."

"Good. I need your help."

"Can't help you tonight, Jack, and you know it. TAPSS doesn't let us tattoo shifters on a full moon."

It was one of the few rules from the Tattoo Artists and Potion Stirrers Society that I closely followed. Shapeshifters, in general, were great to ink because of their clear skin and fast healing. Unfortunately, during the three days surrounding a full moon, they tended to get a little twitchy in the chair and if a tattoo became too painful, the client could shift unexpectedly. Not a pleasant situation for anyone.

"I'm not here for a tattoo," the alpha wolf said. "The Winter Court is in town."

"So?"

"The Wild Hunt," Trixie said in a low voice. "Samhain marks a shift in power between the two courts. The Winter Court always has its Wild Hunt tonight to celebrate their rise in power."

"And because of the full moon, my pack has to shift. I won't have those damn elves hunting my pack mates for fun. You have to help me."

I opened my mouth to speak, but Trixie beat me to the punch. "What the hell do you expect him to do? A glamour potion? You can't hide from the Winter Court on Samhain. No one can."

Jack glared at Trixie and then he surprised me by inhaling a long, slow breath. At first, I thought he was simply controlling his temper, but when his eyes widened and his grin grew I realized I was wrong. He was scenting the air. Another reason I was grateful for the TAPSS ban was because shifters were stronger and had heightened senses during the full moon. Jack could smell that Trixie was an elf despite the disguise that made her into a brunette human.

"Yeah, you would know about that, wouldn't you?"

"Drop it, Jack," I snarled, sitting up in the chair. I was ready to pounce on him, though I didn't stand a chance when it came to taking on an alpha werewolf. Physically, Jack could beat me to a pulp without breaking a sweat, but I had an ace up my sleeve and he knew it. "I don't have to help you."

"You owe me. You turned me into a fucking Chihuahua for two weeks!"

"You did what?" Trixie shrieked, causing me to wince.

"Oh. I'm sorry. Did she not know?" Jack sounded amused rather than apologetic.

"She knows. She just didn't know about that," I said through clenched teeth. I flopped back in the chair and glared up at the clock on the wall. It was nearly five. I had planned to close at seven since Bronx had taken the night off, but apparently I had a more pressing matter to take care of. "Well, since everyone's secrets are out in the open, let's head upstairs so we can talk in comfort. I'll close up."

Shoving out of the chair, I walked over to a small hall closet and grabbed our jackets before following my companions into the lobby. I flinched at the brisk wind that rushed down the street as I locked the front door. October was turning out to be bitter cold. Low Town had already been hit with a brief ice storm that knocked out power for most of two days. Winter was going to be ugly this year.

"Did you really turn him into a Chihuahua?" Trixie asked as we walked down the alley to the back of the shop.

I sighed. "I was having a bad day. I had a meeting with Death and then a warlock tried to kill me."

"So you turned me into a yappy ankle biter," Jack sniped.

"Hey, you got off easy! Any other warlock would have killed your whole pack."

"It's not like you actually looked like one of them at the time," the shifter muttered under his breath, but there was no venom in his voice.

That was true. The day I met Jack I had wandered into his territory looking for my old tattooing mentor. I had been wearing jeans and a torn, bloodstained T-shirt--not exactly the usual attire of the great warlocks and witches from the Ivory Towers. But since escaping those bastards, I had been careful to avoid anything that would identify me as one of them.

At the back of the parlor, we mounted the creaking wooden stairs to the second floor apartment. While Trixie and Jack settled at opposite ends of the sagging couch, I turned up the heat. A few years back, I had bought the entire building and kept the second floor apartment as a place to fall back on. The recent rise in expenses and reduction in my tattooing time had me thinking about renting the place out, but unexpected meetings like this kept me from putting up a notice.

Leaning one shoulder against the wall, I crossed my arms over my chest and looked at the shifter. "Since you know that Trixie's an elf, you should also know that if you tell a soul I'll turn you into something a whole lot worse than a Chihuahua, and you won't change back."

"Why the hell would I share her secret?" Jack barked.

"You haven't had any problems spilling about me and that Chihuahua incident."

Jack flopped back, his longish brown hair falling about his eyes. "Man, your smell is all over her. If she doesn't know you're a warlock, then you're an asshole for keeping it from her. Stuff like that could get her killed."

I pushed away from the wall and threw my hands up in the air. "She knows! And for some bizarre reason she's sticking around. Stay out of my love life."

"Fine. I need your help." Jack sounded happy to change the subject back to why he was here in the first place. "I have no doubt that the Low Town pack is going to be the target of tonight's Wild Hunt and I can't let that happen. If it were anyone else, I would be happy to fight for the territory, but the Winter Court is nasty stuff."

I frowned, not wanting to get dragged into this. "Have you talked to the cops?"

"Who? The locals? What are they going to do?" Jack replied, shaking his head in disgust.

"I was thinking the forest patrol since I'm assuming that's where you're going to be."

"Come on, Gage," Trixie said. "A bunch of humans running around the forest with tranquilizer darts and iron horseshoes aren't going to do much good tonight. The shifters are on their own."

"Would you even help us if you could?" Jack demanded, looking at the elf.

Glaring, Trixie turned on the sofa so that she was partially facing the werewolf. With a snap of her fingers, the glamour disappeared, changing her from a lush brunette to an elegant blonde with vibrant green eyes.

Jack jerked back against the couch, nearly jumping from his seat. "Holy shit! You're Summer Court."

I chuckled softly. Trixie had explained recently that Summer Court elves were generally blond or strawberry blond with pale skin. Winter Court elves were usually dark brunettes or had auburn hair with tan skin. Of course, my own experience with the dark elves had shown that they all had black hair and bluish-tinted skin.

"I don't want to see anyone chased by the Wild Hunt," Trixie said. Some of the anger seemed to drain from her shoulders and she relaxed against the couch. She looked up at me and gave a crooked grin. "If there's anyone in Low Town who could possibly help, it would be you. I don't imagine anyone else from the Towers is going to come down to keep the peace."

I slumped against the wall as visions of twisted sheets, greasy pizza, and explosive car chases drifted from my grasp. This was going to take all night and my plans for quality time with my girlfriend were now dust, just like my relationship would be if the crazy didn't stop soon.

But she was right. Only a witch or a warlock would have the skills needed to go head-to-head with the Winter Court on Samhain.

"Fine," I grumbled. I didn't want to have captured and skinned shifters on my conscience. Besides, it wasn't Halloween without a little crazy, right? "But you've got to make sure that your pack doesn't give away my secret or Trixie's. I don't need all of Low Town knowing what I am."

"Afraid of lynch mobs?" Jack inquired innocently, but I wanted to wipe the taunting smile on his face off with my fist.

"A bit." Lynch mobs were just the tip of the iceberg. Everyone hated the witches and the warlocks of the Ivory Towers. If people found out that I was one of them, I was dead. They wouldn't give a shit that I had run away more than ten years ago and turned my back on the entire group. "How do you want to handle this?"

Jack shrugged, pushing some hair back from his eyes. "Couldn't you just use some of your hocus-pocus to get rid of them?"

"I'm not killing anyone," I growled.

"Then just sort of teleport them to the other side of the globe. You know, like China."

"The entire hunting party? Just pop them over to China? How powerful do you think I am?" Even if I had stayed in the Towers and studied, I don't think I'd be powerful enough to manage that. "Can we try for subtle? Not a lot of magic?"

"What do you suggest?"

"The best way to steal the thunder of the Wild Hunt is to not run. The hunt is all about the thrill of the chase. If they can't chase you, they might lose interest," Trixie said.

"So we stand and fight them?" Jack demanded.

"I'm not sure they would fight. I think they would try to scare you into running. Their advantage comes in the chase. It's the way of their magic."

I stepped closer to Trixie, shoving my hands into the pockets of my jeans. "What do you mean?"

"The magic of the Summer Court is mostly based in nature, life, and growth, but everything is sleeping during the winter. Their magic is a place of dreams and nightmares. They play on the mind with fears and illusions--they're better at glamour than even the Summer Court."

"Fabulous." Jack rubbed his forehead with one hand. "We run or they're going to make us crazy until we run to escape."

Trixie nodded with a look of sympathy filling her eyes. "That's likely going to be their plan."

"I know some anti-glamour spells, but I can't make it too big or it's going to attract a lot of unwanted attention." Unwanted attention in the form of the Towers. Handling the Winter Court was going to be bad enough; I didn't want to throw in a group of witches and warlocks as well. "What about wearing iron rings and dandelion water to see through the glamour?"

The blonde elf shoved some hair from her face and frowned. "That would work most days of the year. Just not tonight."

"So we don't have much of a shot at fighting their glamour?"

"Sorry."

I paced away from Trixie. This was not how I imagined my night going. It was fucking Halloween--the one night a year when you were supposed to eat candy and enjoy getting the shit scared out of you.

As the bitter complaint crossed my mind, an idea started to form. It was cruel and evil, but if it worked, no one would get hurt. Spinning back toward my companions, I clapped my hands together with excitement.

"They wouldn't expect being hit with glamour, would they? They wouldn't protect against it?"

Trixie's brow furrowed as she slowly shook her head. "No, I can't imagine they would. Werewolves don't use it. Why?"

"I have an idea. A sick one, and I'm going to need your help."

"Of course. What do you need?"

"First, I want you to go with Jack to where the pack hunts. Find a relatively flat, open area. Big as you can find and away from any tree lines. I need to prep some things and then I'll find you."

"How?"

I frowned for a second and then jogged into the kitchen, where I started jerking open drawers. I grabbed a spoon and marched back into the living room, where I placed a quick tracking spell on the utensil before handing it to Trixie.

She gave a little smirk as she took it. "At least it's not a semi-clean fork."

I chuckled as I realized tracking spells were becoming something of a trend between us. In truth, I was tempted to put a permanent spell on her, but I was afraid she'd see it as an invasion of her privacy, and I didn't want to become that kind of boyfriend.

"Get going," I said, stepping back. "I should catch up with you and the pack around sunset. I'll explain it all then."

Neither looked thrilled with the lack of info, but I needed to work out some things before I tried to explain everything. I still had to find a way of doing what I planned without catching the Towers' attention. As Trixie rose, her glamour fell into place again. Jack started to follow her to the door when I clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Go on down, Trixie. I need to ask Jack something personal."

The elf nodded and closed the door. I waited until I heard her footsteps reach the bottom stairs before I grabbed Jack's jacket and slammed him against the wall with enough force to dent the drywall. The sudden violence caused his eyes to shift from brown to yellow as the wolf inside him tried to claw its way out. I didn't care.

"Listen to me, Jack," I snarled, getting up in his face. "I'm taking a big risk tonight for your people, so you're going to do something for me. You and your pack are going to protect Trixie while she's out there. If anything happens to her, I swear on all that's holy that I will make the fucking Winter Court look like the goddamn Girl Scouts. I will slaughter every last shifter in Low Town. You got me?"

"Yeah," Jack said in a low voice.

I shoved away from the shifter, pacing across the room and roughly running my hand over my face as I tried to calm the knots in my stomach. I didn't want Trixie in the woods tonight, but she knew more about the Winter Court's glamour. Her help was going to be critical.

"Does she know?"

Jack's question snapped my attention back to where he was still standing against the wall. "Know what?"

"How crazy you are about her?"

I flashed him an embarrassed smirk, dropping my hand back to my side. "Geez, I hope not. Can't think of a better way to scare a girl away."

"I promise my pack will protect her, and not because you threatened me. She seems like a good person."

"The best. Thanks."

Jack waved off my thanks as he pushed away from the wall and left the apartment.

The werewolf was right. I was crazy about Trixie, and I had more than enough power to make me dangerous if something should happen to her. Heaven help the world if she ever came to harm because there would be no stopping me.

Chapter Two

IT WAS LESS than an hour after sunset when I arrived in the forest area outside of Low Town. A scream tore through the quiet forestland before I had taken two steps. I never saw who spotted me, but I could hear the person running through the forest in the opposite direction. Well, that at least answered my question of whether anyone would find me convincing as a warlock. Unfortunately, I wasn't willing to bank on the elves finding me as intimidating.

I started walking through the forest to where I could sense Trixie was standing, when several massive wolves charged through the trees. They circled me, teeth bared, while low growls rumbled from their chests.

"Jack!" I shouted, holding my hands out in front of me as I prepared to call up a protective barrier. No one in their right mind would attack a warlock or witch, but shifters weren't always in their right mind under a full moon. To them, I looked like an easy, solo target. "Call off your people, Jack, or you're on your own against the Winter Court."

There was only a faint whisper of sound as Jack emerged from the brush beside two large, brownish-gray wolves. His hands swept over their heads, soothing them. The growling stopped, but long, sharp teeth were still bared, daring me to move.

"He's a friend. Go back to the clearing with the others," Jack ordered, his yellow-brown eyes never wavering from me. It took several seconds, but the wolves melted back into the dark shadows of the forest and I was alone with Jack. I lowered my hands to my sides, but I didn't relax. Jack's expression wasn't exactly welcoming.

"Problem?" I asked when he still didn't move or speak.

"I've seen you do stuff. Trixie even told me a story or two on the way over here. But I guess some part of me didn't believe it until . . . until I saw you dressed like that. Hell, I know you and I still feel the need to kill you."

"Because of the suit?"

"Yeah," he breathed. He shook his head a couple times, as if to break the angry trance he'd been in. "Sorry."

I shrugged. "It's not as if the Towers haven't earned your hatred. Everyone reacts the same as you. Though, it'd be great if you can keep your people from attacking me while we do this."

"Yeah, I've got them." Jack motioned for me to follow as he turned and started walking toward the clearing. I walked silently behind him, a part of me sick to my stomach to be wearing this suit and cloak again. I tried to tell myself that it was Halloween and I was wearing a scary costume, but it was a lie and I knew it. The suit wasn't a costume; it was a uniform. The same uniform that had seen thousands slaughtered over the years.

The trees gave way to a wide clearing that stretched several acres in all directions. The grasses were about knee-high but the ground was flat, making it a good area for a fight if it came down to it. It was lighter in the open, as the sky became a dark gray around the large yellow moon.

It took only a couple seconds to spot Trixie standing in the middle of the field, talking to several men and women. I smiled as I watched the animated movements of her hands. Whenever she was nervous or upset, her hands took on a life of their own, as if they were trying to escape her wrists.

Someone said something to her because she turned toward Jack and me. A horrible gasp escaped her when her eyes fell on me. Her hands clapped over her mouth to smother any additional sound, but it did nothing to block the fear that filled her wide eyes. I faltered a step as pain slashed through my heart at that look. Not once in my life had I knowingly harmed her. I had kissed her, held her, and made love to her, and yet she still looked at me with terror.

I tried to tell myself that Trixie and her people had been hunted and tortured by the Towers for years. I reminded myself that the elves were hovering near extinction because of the Towers. It was that history and fear I was planning to play on tonight, but I had also told myself that Trixie wouldn't see me like that. She wouldn't fear me because she loved me.

Closing the distance between us, I reached out for her, but she lurched backward a step, moving out of my reach. I clenched my teeth and roughly grabbed her shoulders, resisting the urge to give her a little shake. "Trixie, it's me."

"I--I know. It's just . . . you look like them." Her soft voice sounded fragile, as if she was barely holding hysteria at bay. "You've never looked like them before. You've always just been Gage."

My hands slid up to cup her face, forcing her to look only at my face. "I'm still Gage. Look at my face. That hasn't changed. You know I would never do anything to hurt you."

"I know," she said with a slight waver. "It's just . . ."

"It's Halloween. Think of it as a scary costume."

"Scary costume?" she repeated, as if I was spouting nonsense.

"Yeah, just a costume. Besides, do you think any warlock could kiss like this?" I leaned in and captured her mouth in a gentle kiss as she started to speak. She was stiff at first, but I kept kissing her, slow and thorough, until I could feel her starting to melt against me. As Trixie wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed close, I broke off the kiss and looked into her eyes to see that the fear was gone. "Better?"

"Much, but I think we've got an audience."

A wicked grin spread across my lips while ignoring the gathering crowd. "Are you into having an audience?"

Trixie rolled her eyes and gave me a playful shove, but still kept one arm locked around my neck as if she wasn't ready to let me go. "You're no warlock. You're just some sick pervert."

"Maybe, but you still want me." I leaned in to kiss her again when Jack cleared his throat behind me, quickly dousing my fun. We had work to do and the sooner we got it done, the sooner I could get Trixie naked somewhere without spectators.

Releasing Trixie, I turned toward Jack while keeping her close at hand. A quick glance around the area revealed that the rest of the pack had backed off. The few that had already shifted into wolves were standing the closest with fangs bared and hackles raised. Warlocks and witches were not welcome in their world and I couldn't blame them. The Towers had spent lifetimes destroying the various peoples of this planet.

"Listen to me!" I said to the gathered werewolves. "I'm not going to hurt anyone. I'm here to help you with the Winter Court, but you have to listen to me. You have to remain in the clearing when they arrive. If you run, they will catch you and I won't be able to help. Their strength is in the chase. They won't fight you if you stand your ground here."

At least, I hoped that the Wild Hunt wouldn't fight an entire pack of werewolves under a full moon.

"What's your plan?" Jack demanded, drawing my gaze back to the alpha.

"Being as it is Halloween, I thought I'd give them a good scare," I said with a grin. "Get all your people shifted and standing together in the center of the field around me. I plan to give the Winter Court a little show to scare them away. When the fey run, the pack will chase, but they are to follow no farther than the edge of the clearing. Don't go into the trees."

As Jack turned to his people to give instructions, I looked at Trixie again. "You still have that spoon?"

She reached into her back pocket and pulled it out with a smile. I took it from her and drew a quick symbol on the back of the spoon bowl before holding it out to her. "Kiss it."

"What?"

"Kiss the spoon, please," I repeated. She arched one eyebrow at me, but leaned forward and kissed the back of the spoon. I turned the side of my head toward her as I pulled the spoon back. "Now blow in my ear."

"Gage," she said on a sigh. She was trying to sound exasperated, but her smile was ruining the effect. She leaned close and blew lightly in my right ear. Her warm breath tickled my ear and it was a struggle not to rub it.

I straightened and finished the spell I had been working on the spoon before handing it back to her. "Since I don't have a walkie-talkie, this will have to fill in. I want you to hide, preferably up in a tree where they won't see you but you can see everything that's happening. Talk into the spoon and I'll be able to hear you."

"Will you be able to talk to me with this?"

"Sorry, no. It only goes one way and I'm out of spoons. Just keep it on you and I'll be able to find you."

"I feel ridiculous."

"But you look so damn sexy." I gave her another quick kiss, bringing a smile back to her lips. "Now go hide."

Trixie tucked the spoon in her back pocket again and took off across the field at a quick jog toward the closest line of trees. I watched her for a few seconds, trying to push down the worry knotting in my stomach. She was going to be fine. She was hidden from the Winter Court and no one would find her. She would be an extra set of eyes for me and would be able to give me tips on how to handle the Wild Hunt. There would be no problems.

I caught some movement out of the corner of my eye and found a gray wolf sitting on the ground beside me, watching Trixie run across the field. The animal was enormous, roughly twice the size of a normal wolf. "Jack?" The wolf nodded once, watching me with large yellow eyes. "I'm guessing that everything is ready." He nodded again.

Looking around the field, I discovered that I was the only human standing in the clearing, surrounded by more than twenty wolves of different size and coloring. Their eyes caught and reflected the light as they sat watching me with a frightening stillness. The only sound was a faint breeze stirring the remaining leaves in the trees.

"Can you communicate with your people in that form?" I asked in a low voice. The wolf nodded and then suddenly jerked his head to the south. The wind had shifted and he had apparently caught the scent of something approaching.

It was only a minute later before I heard a low thunder as horses charged through the thinning brush of the surrounding forest. The Wild Hunt was drawing close and it was time for me to get this show under way.

Drawing in a slow breath, I closed my eyes and dug through the piles of spells I had memorized over the nine years I lived in the Towers. Some were a combination of words and symbols, while others were a series of hand and body movements used to conjure up specific energies. This spell was different because it required me to call up specific memories and breathe life into them. And these were not happy memories.

I scoured my memories of my time within the Towers, focusing on the face of each witch or warlock I encountered. There weren't many of them, since my mentor, Simon, had preferred to keep me locked in my chamber, but every once in a while I was trotted out for some special torment. As my mind picked out each one, I called forth a small burst of energy.

When I opened my eyes again, I was no longer the only human standing in the field. Spread about the clearing were seven other witches and warlocks, staring toward the noise of the approaching hunting party. But they weren't really there. It was an illusion. A damn good illusion, as the wind appeared to stir their hair and cloaks. They even looked like they were breathing and blinking. The only catch was that they couldn't speak and would only move if I directed each one individually.

Of course, I was praying that just the sight of the gathered magic users would be enough to scare off the fey, because I was already treading on thin ice. I wasn't supposed to be using magic, except in self-defense. And though my warden, Gideon, and I had come to the tentative agreement that illusionary magic could be used in self-defense, I doubted that this was what he had in mind. So far tonight, my use of magic had been extremely light and small, so I was unlikely to catch his attention or anyone else's from the Towers. Because this looked fucking bad if someone happened to pop in.

Gage? Trixie's soft voice whispered in my ear, sounding as if she were standing right next to me. I know you can't answer, but I really hope you're doing this because if you're not, please get out of there now. Her lovely voice trembled in my ear as fear threatened to choke her words. I longed to wrap my arms around her or at least shout across the distance that everything was fine. Something, anything, to reassure her, but I couldn't risk it. I was having enough trouble concentrating on maintaining the current glamour spell.

They're coming, she whispered again. Most should come out right in front of you, but there are more on your left and right. If the pack breaks apart and starts to run, they're going to try to corral you to the north.

I nodded, not sure if she could actually see it. If I remembered correctly, there was a steep drop-off to the north that would neatly trap anyone who attempted to run.

A moment later, a dozen white horses broke through the tree line and came to a sharp halt at the edge of the clearing, several yards away from the nearest wolf. Some of the horses reared at the abrupt stop, but the elves easily held their seats as they fought to control their mounts. There was a quick rush of frantic whispers as they took in the gathering of wolves and magic users.

"The Wild Hunt is not welcome here," I shouted. The forest had grown so still and quiet that my voice echoed through the area.

A large male elf with dark hair and a gold circlet directed his horse forward a couple feet, moving away from the rest of his people. The king of the Winter Court had perfect snowy white skin and narrowed icy blue eyes.

"The Winter Court has always conducted its hunt on Samhain and the Towers have had no disagreement with it."

I stepped forward as well, positioning myself ahead of Jack. "I have no complaint with your tradition. You may conduct your hunt this evening. I only suggest that you leave the Low Town werewolf pack in peace."

"What is the Towers' interest in the wolves?"

A cold smile spread across my face as I reached inside the sleeve of my jacket and pulled out my wand. With a quick flick, one of the white stallions screamed for a split second and disappeared, sending the rider crashing to the ground. I didn't kill the horse, only sent it to the opposite end of the forest around Low Town.

The king jerked on the back of his horse, tightening his fists on the reins. Several of the elves screamed and shouted, but no one bolted back for the woods as I had hoped.

"The pack is mine and no one shall torment them but me!" I shouted, drawing his eyes back to me. "And that was the price for questioning me. For each question, you will lose a member of your hunting party. Is there anything else you wish to know?"

The king glared at me, his lips pressed into a hard line. I had a feeling that he was weighing his options. No member of royalty liked being threatened, and he was trying to find a way to save a little face in front of his people.

"Do you have any more limitations you wish to press upon us?" he demanded between clenched teeth.

I smiled again, letting my eyes travel over the gathering. With a wave of my wand, a young male seated next to a lovely woman whom I guessed was the queen disappeared. She gasped and opened her mouth for a second, looking as if she wanted to curse me, but she didn't speak. I was praying the male's closeness to the queen would be enough shake the king. The young man would find his way back to his people eventually, but the king didn't know that.

Don't attack the royal family, Gage, Trixie hissed in my ear. You don't need to start a war.

"The hunting party will not trouble the werewolves. You will also travel no farther north or west of Low Town this evening," I replied, narrowing my eyes on the king. "Now leave, if you don't wish to lose any more of your people."

I stepped backward until I was standing next to Jack again. "Give chase when they leave but stop at the edge of the clearing," I said in a low voice, praying that the elves couldn't overhear me. The wolf growled low and deep in his chest as he rose to stand on all four paws.

The king of the Winter Court glared at me for several seconds before wheeling his horse around to face his people. He snapped something in quick, angry elvish before charging back into the woods. The wolves lurched forward at once, keying on the retreat of their would-be attackers. Looking around, I breathed a heavy sigh of relief as I saw the wolves race off in every direction, making sure that all the elves left their section of the woods.

They're leaving from the area nearest to me. I--ah, shit, Trixie cursed and abruptly broke off from what she was saying. I turned, staring in the direction she had jogged into the woods not long ago. My body was painfully tensed as I stared into the growing darkness, willing Trixie to appear from the trees, walking toward me safe and sound, but it didn't happen.

Frustrated, I waved my hand and dismissed the glamour spell that had created the vision of the witches and warlocks. The Winter Court was gone and I didn't need the spell any longer. I tested the tracking spell I had put on the spoon and found that it was still where I had last sensed it. Trixie wasn't moving. I didn't know if that was a good sign or a bad one.

Fuck! I should never have brought her, I thought. I should have sent her straight to my apartment with the pizza. With the Winter Court gone, I could have zipped back to my apartment, happy to find Trixie safe.

A wolf howled long and high to my right, and I turned back to find another lifting its muzzle to the moon and joining in the growing chorus. I wanted this to be the signal that the elves had left the area, but I had my doubts when I spotted Jack running back toward me.

He stopped a few feet away and shifted back to human form amid the rising sound of cracking bones and the tearing of flesh. Panting and glistening with what I hoped was sweat, Jack the human stood completely naked in the moonlight.

I looked quickly away, holding up one hand at him to shield my view. "Ah, come on, man! Find a fig leaf or something."

"They grabbed Trixie," he said in a rough voice.

"What?" My head jerked back toward him.

"One of the wolves got excited and started to chase a rider into the woods. Trixie jumped down and stopped the wolf, but she got grabbed in the process. The elf rode off with her."

My heart stopped in my chest as I stared at the woods that surrounded us. The moon dipped behind a bank of thick clouds, closing the shadows in around me. The Winter Court had Trixie and there was no doubt that they would quickly discover she was a Summer Court elf. Considering that the two courts were far from friendly, this didn't bode well for my girlfriend. This Halloween outing was turning into a nightmare.

Chapter Three

PANIC CLOGGED MY veins and swirled in my brain, shutting down all thought processes for several seconds. I wanted to skin the wolf that had put Trixie's life in jeopardy. I wanted to string up the entire Winter Court.

Clenching my fists at my sides, I drew in a deep breath and centered my mind. I needed to think clearly if I was going to find Trixie and get her safely back in my arms. I focused on the tracking spell I had used on the spoon, praying that maybe I had been mistaken and it was moving, but I wasn't. Trixie must have dropped the spoon when she had gone after the wolf or when fighting her captor. I wouldn't be able to track her that way.

My mind screamed to use a more aggressive tracking spell, but it required a lot of strong magic. Or what I referred to as loud magic. The tracking spell would undoubtedly find Trixie, but I was going to be up to my armpits in warlocks and witches before I could go after her. Saving Trixie was going to be impossible if the Towers nuked my ass before I could find her.

I needed a way to track her subtly. My eyes scanned the region as my brain struggled to come up with another solution. The wolves paced several yards away, watching me with their large, reflective eyes. An idea slashed across my brain.

"Can you smell the fey? Strong enough to track them?" I demanded, pinning Jack with a hard look.

The werewolf took a step backward. "Sure. I can send some of my people--"

"No," I snarled, already walking toward the nearest wolf. It was smaller than many of the others, making me think that it might be a female. "I just need a tuft of fur," I said as I reached for the cringing wolf, hoping that the information would keep her from twisting around to bite me. She snarled as I yanked out a small tuft, but she didn't lunge for my hand--most people who had lycanthropy were born with it, but you could catch it from a bite. Not every bite guaranteed you'd shift at the next full moon, but the way my luck was running tonight, I knew I'd end up furry once a month if she'd gotten me.

I walked back toward Jack, twisting the hair between my forefinger and thumb while I whispered a quick spell. As soon as it was a tiny ball of fur, I swallowed it. Jack was looking at me like I was crazy, but I didn't care.

"How much longer do you have to be out tonight?" I asked as I yanked off my tie and shed my cloak and blazer.

"At least a few more hours."

I undid the first few buttons on the shirt and then just pulled it over my head before dropping it on the ground beside my other clothes. "Fine. Stay close to the clearing or head northwest. I think the hunting party is going to be busy with Trixie and me for a little while, but I wouldn't push your luck."

"Are--are you going to shift?"

"Yeah," I grumbled, balancing on one foot while pulling off one of the dress shoes.

"Have you ever shifted before?"

I paused, dropping the second shoe on the thick grass. "Once, but that was a hawk. I'm assuming that it's going to be about the same." I was down to just pants and boxers, and I was hoping to wait until the shifting spell kicked in full force. As it was, I could feel a growing tingling from head to toe while muscles started to twitch and jerk involuntarily.

Jack frowned, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "Let me go with you. Shifting the first few times leaves you disoriented and it takes time for you to adjust to your heightened senses."

I shook my head as the first wave of pain shot through my body. "I'm going alone."

"You need help. Otherwise you're of no use to Trixie."

A low growl rumbled through my chest and I balled my hands into fists. "Just help me identify her scent or at least the scent of the bastard that took her. I've got it after that."

Jack said something, but I couldn't make it out past the rush of blood in my ears. I think he was agreeing to my terms, but I didn't care. The rush of pain from shifting was already on me. I managed to uncurl my fingers so that I could strip off the last of my clothes and then I was on my hands and knees in the tall grass.

The pain was all consuming, searing away thought. The last time I had done this, I had been smart enough to use an additional spell to dull some of the pain. It was too late now. I had always heard that the first time a lycan shifted was extremely painful, but that description didn't begin to cover it.

Bones snapped, lengthened, and reattached while muscles, tendons, and tissues ripped and re-formed to the demands of my new body. Everything hurt, blinding me, making it impossible to draw a breath when all I wanted to do was scream. I was vaguely aware of writhing on the ground, my limbs contorting in pain, until even my skin became ultra-sensitive.

The process lasted only a few seconds, but I would have said I had spent days thrashing on the ground. As the pain gradually ebbed, thought returned to my brain in a scattered mess. The world around me was coming in differently. The air felt different, sounds were sharper, and the night didn't seem as dark as it had been.

Don't move. Just lie there for a moment to let your body finish healing.

I jerked at the sudden intrusion of Jack's voice, but the movement sent a fresh shaft of pain through my head. I opened my mouth to groan but it came out as a high-pitched yelp. Jumping upright, I instantly fell over as my brain didn't understand how to work this new body.

Relax. Breathe. You're a wolf now. Four paws, bushy tail, sharp teeth. Takes some getting used to.

I moved slower this time, pushing into a sitting position with my front paws braced in front of me. Blinking to adjust my new sharper sight, I saw Jack back in wolf form. I closed my eyes and focused on the path his telepathic voice had traveled. Can you hear me? I tried asking.

Loud and clear, Jack replied. His long pink tongue hung out of the side of his mouth, making me think he was smiling. Wasn't sure this would work since you're not technically a werewolf. How do you feel?

Like a troll beat me with a sledgehammer.

To be expected. That spell had you shift too fast. Kind of surprised you survived.

So was I. If I was ever stupid enough to try this stunt again, I was definitely going to take the time for a painkiller spell.

With a strange grunt, I pushed onto all four paws and stood, proud that I didn't seem to be too wobbly. Let's get moving. I need to find Trixie.

Wordlessly, Jack stood and took off in the direction that we had all seen Trixie head into the woods earlier in the evening. I followed behind at a slower gait as I struggled to get my feet moving. After a couple yards, I stopped trying to think about it and let instinct take over. I sped up while the rest of my senses allowed me to become more aware of the world.

The colors of the night were crisper rather than being dulled by the lack of light. It was like I could suddenly hear everything--mice, bugs, birds, rabbits, and even things I couldn't identify. There was a growing urge in me to follow some of these noises, to hunt . . . something, but I tightened my focus.

A thousand scents assailed me. Some good. Some bad. I could identify all of them in an instant. I could pick out the scent of every wolf that had crossed through this section of the clearing. I could smell rabbit, deer, and birds that had briefly landed during the early evening and then flown away. Halfway across the cleaning, I caught my first hint of Trixie, and it smelled like heaven.

My whole body jerked to a halt as if my muscles had frozen. My nose was nearly brushing the ground as I drank in her scent. Trixie!

Caught it, huh? Jack said, circling back to stand near me.

She smells . . . It's perfect. It's like what I'm used to when I'm human, but so much more. So . . . perfect. I wanted to roll in her scent. To wrap it around me like a blanket. It was the scent of the summer sun on a field of wildflowers. It was a thunderstorm and a perfumed wind. It was a hundred things combining into something exquisite.

I had asked Jack along because I had been afraid that I would have trouble identifying scents, but there was no missing this.

Is this what the fey smell like to you? I asked as I started to move forward again, following the scent toward the trees.

Jack followed behind me, his paws nearly silent on the earth. No, Trixie's different. Smells a little of you and a little less of the earth.

I tried to frown, but the muscles around my mouth didn't respond how I expected them to. Trixie didn't smell like the other fey because she had stopped living with them centuries ago. A part of me hated the king of the Summer Court for his constant harassment, but a part of me was glad. I would never have met Trixie otherwise.

I continued past the edge of the clearing into the woods. The darkness became thicker, as many of the trees had yet to finish shedding their leaves for the season. The air was heavy with earthy scents, but I could still pick out Trixie. I could easily identify the tree she had hidden in, the place where the wolf had run past in pursuit of the rider, and where Trixie had jumped down to the ground.

Muscles jerked and froze as the scent of the Winter Court elf mingled with Trixie's, and then it seemed like Trixie's scent shifted slightly.

Something happened to Trixie's scent, I said to Jack as a low growl rumbled up my throat.

You smell her fear.

I think it's time for you to head back to your people.

Gage, I can--

Go. Back. Now.

I looked over my shoulder at Jack, my ears flattened against my head and my teeth bared at him. Instincts were rising up, clouding my thoughts until I could no longer reason things out beyond emotion. The Winter Court had Trixie. I had to get her back. Jack was trying to keep me from what was mine.

The alpha growled back at me, widening his stance slightly as he prepared for the attack. Back down, Gage! Get ahold of yourself. Don't threaten me. I'll protect myself for the sake of my pack.

Jack's words snapped through my brain, jerking me away from my urge to go for his throat. I shook my head hard and took a step away from him as reason started to trickle in again.

Sorry. Just stay here. I need to take care of this alone.

The large gray wolf nodded and sat down where he had been standing.

With an inner sigh, I returned to the task of locating and following Trixie's scent. I let the wolf's instinct sink back into command of my body, but I kept a tighter hold on my more human thought processes, preferring not to get swept away again.

This brief trip through the woods as a wolf had given me a new respect for lycanthropes. It wasn't just about the hassle of having to shift every full moon and being aware of exactly how dangerous your blood was. It was about battling an entirely different set of instincts for control of a dangerously strong body. My brief stint as a hawk had been a bit of fun, but none of its predatory instincts had been triggered during the shift. How do you cling to your humanity when you've got a cold, vicious predator constantly whispering in your ear?

I followed the mingled scent of the Winter Court elf and Trixie through the woods, climbing over fallen trees and across nearly dry creek beds. There were few sounds as I moved deeper into the woods. Most creatures were now sleeping in their private lairs, while others quickly scurried away from me rather than risk becoming dinner.

About five miles from the clearing, the elf's scent was joined by the scent of several horses and more elves until I could hear the pounding of hooves on the ground. I slowed my pace a little and became more cautious, careful not to make a sound.

"Well now, aren't you far away from your pack?" called a melodic voice from above me.

I tried to dart away, but I was too slow. A rope swept over my head and tightened around my throat before I could escape. The elf jumped down from the tree, looping a second rope around my muzzle to keep me from biting a hand off. I struggled, but there was no getting away without risking strangulation. Been there. Done that. Got the T-shirt.

Backing as far from the elf as I could and still manage to breathe, I growled at the dark-haired bastard. He simply laughed at me, grinning widely.

"The Towers might not want us hunting your pack in your territory, but you've crossed into our territory. First a Summer Court elf and now a werewolf. This is going to be a fun night."

I continued to struggle a little, but let this asshole lead me back to where the rest of the fey were holding Trixie. It was nice that he thought I was just another shifter. That edge was going to come in handy.

We walked for nearly a mile before we came to a small circular clearing in the trees. I blinked at the pale white lights that hovered in the air, giving the area a silver-lined appearance. The same elves I had seen on horseback were now standing around the clearing, holding silver goblets and chatting softly as if they were attending a fancy dinner party. Some even seemed to have changed clothes into elegant evening wear. The horses were gone but I could smell them on the wind as if they were lingering close by.

I located Trixie kneeling on the ground next to the king with a gag in her mouth and her hands tied in front of her with white rope. Her glamour spell was gone and she was back to being the blond elf I had fallen in love with. In the faint lighting, I could make out a bruise on her cheek and tears in her jeans and shirt.

The instincts I had been battling since I first caught Trixie's scent jumped back into control before I could push them down again. I lunged forward, my entire body screaming to sink my teeth into the throat of the king, but the rope around my throat tightened painfully, halting me before I got more than two feet.

"Your Majesty, I present you with a new pet," my captor cheerfully proclaimed, bowing beside me at the king. He giggled and then turned toward the queen. "Or maybe Her Majesty would rather have a new fur."

I'd had enough. The pain in my throat had been enough to snap me out of my blind rage so I could cast a few useful spells. Lying on the ground, I closed my eyes and blocked out of the sound of their conversation. I cast the pain-relieving spell I should have used earlier in the night and dissolved the ropes around me with a second spell. As my captor shouted in surprise, I kicked on the shifting spell.

Pain lanced through my body a second time, but it was muted, as if I were detached from my body. Senses dulled and instincts dimmed slightly, but there was still a rage beating in the back of my brain that wouldn't go away. Not until Trixie was safe back at my side.

As the last of the pain subsided I became aware of screaming and frantic shouting. I lifted my head to find the gathered elves backing away. It seemed like they recognized me. A smile grew on my face, wavering only for a second as I caught the look of horror in Trixie's eyes.

Pushing to my feet again, I cast one last spell, clothing myself in jeans and T-shirt from my own closet rather than the suit and cloak of the Towers. They had no doubt I was a warlock, there was no reason for me to wear that damn monkey suit now.

I stood slowly and brushed my hands off on my jeans. My body ached down to the bone and was stiff, but I was surprised that I didn't feel worse. I wasn't a lycanthrope so my body wasn't prepared to shift like that. Tomorrow I'd be lucky to crawl out of bed. For now, I was moving only because of adrenaline and a good numbing spell.

"So we meet again," I said, grinning at the king.

"We have not been hunting the werewolves in your territory," the king argued quickly.

"I know."

"This was a trap?"

"No. You have someone who belongs with me." I stared down at Trixie. Her eyes softened as her hands relaxed in her lap. "I've come to get her back."

"She is precious to you?"

Something in the king's tone snapped my head up and I glared at him. Anger flared to life again in my chest, burning away all thoughts of walking away so that I instead longed to rain destruction down upon their heads. They had stolen Trixie from me, threatened her well-being. They had to be punished. They had to be crushed.

"Do you have something you wish to say?" I asked in a silky voice.

The king stepped forward and placed a heavy hand on Trixie's stiff shoulder, while a dagger glinted faintly in his other fist. "We found her wandering in the woods and have kept her safe for you. I thought to suggest an exchange."

My smile grew a little wider as I narrowed my eyes. "An exchange? I think I would be willing to make an exchange. How about we exchange her for the lives of all the Winter Court females?"

I swept my hands out on either side of myself and then lifted them up. There was no whisper of magic words or tricky movements. There was only energy; lots of magic energy rushing into the circle, stirring the wind, and wrapping around all the females within the circle. As one, they were jerked up into the air, dangling above the gathered males. Their screams were cut off as the energy wrapped around their throats, nearly cutting off their access to air. They kicked and fought to be set free, but I could only see the anger and fear on the face of the king.

"Tonight, I can wipe out the Winter Court. I can't imagine there are too many people in the world that would miss the cold embrace of winter," I taunted. "I could kill your females and watch the last of you wither away to nothing."

Trixie grabbed the gag and, after a few tries, jerked it from her mouth. "Stop it! Please, stop it now!"

"They hurt you! They threatened your life! They have to pay!" I shouted back, my temper breaking lose.

"And I'm sure they'll be happy to let me go. Please, let's just leave."

I waved one hand at her and all her bindings unraveled, slipping from her dainty wrists and from around her throat. Trixie slowly pushed to her feet, looking stiff and sore. She wobbled once and an elf reached out to steady her. My anger flared beyond my control and I lashed out, magically knocking the elf across the clearing.

"Don't touch her," I snarled.

The rest of the Winter Court backed away as Trixie crossed to my side. I roughly pulled her against me, becoming aware of the trembling that had started all over my body. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think my way through the thickening red haze. A small part of me was appalled at what I was doing, but the little voice wasn't loud enough to cut through the rage.

With Trixie in my arms, I released the elves dangling in the air, letting them fall in little heaps around the circle. My eyes remained locked on the king as he glared at me.

"This is your only warning: Low Town and the surrounding lands are mine," I said in a near growl, and then Trixie and I disappeared.

Chapter Four

TRIXIE AND I reappeared in the large clearing we'd been in earlier with the werewolves. The area was empty now. Jack must have taken his pack deeper into the woods to the north, putting some breathing room between his people and the Winter Court.

Releasing Trixie, I stumbled away a few steps before my knees gave out and I collapsed to the ground. My body was sore from shifting into a wolf and back again in the span of less than a few hours. But that wasn't what was causing the shaking in my hands or the tightness in my chest that squeezed until it was nearly impossible to draw a breath.

I had nearly given in to the urge to kill the entire Winter Court. That first moment when I'd heard that Trixie had been taken, I'd almost lost it. I'd been ready to torch the entire woods and everything in it until I got her back. And when I'd seen her tied up and bruised, something inside of me had screamed to tear the elves apart.

Spells had spun to the forefront of my mind. The energy had tingled along my skin, causing a nearly unbearable itch that could only be scratched by their screams. If Trixie hadn't said something, my control would have disintegrated and I would have destroyed them all.

I shook my head as I drew in a ragged breath and struggled to push away the thought, but there was no escaping it. For the first time in my life, I was scared of myself. Years ago, I learned the dangerous spells. I learned the deadly spells that crushed hearts, stole breath, and destroyed minds. I learned them, but I told myself I would never use them. I had been so confident that nothing could push me so far that I would be tempted.

My entire body flinched at the sound of Trixie's soft footfalls across the dried grasses. She knelt beside me and laid a hand on my shoulder, her touch so light it felt like a butterfly had landed. Her head dipped down in front of mine, sending her long, blond hair falling over her shoulder in a silken cascade. I wanted to reach out and touch those locks of starlight, but I squeezed my hands into fists in my lap. I was tainted, dirty, and I couldn't stand the idea of that ugliness touching her.

"Gage, please look at me," she said in a soft voice.

Reluctantly, I raised my eyes to her face so that I could see her worried expression. "How can you stand to be near me?" The words were rough and low when they tumbled from my mouth. "The things I thought. The things I almost did . . . I'm a monster."

"No, you're not." She put her hand against my cheek and I rolled away from her, jumping to my feet again so I could pace with my growing agitation. My knees held me, to my relief, despite the growing ache in my limbs.

"I told myself that because I chose to leave the Towers, I wasn't like them. I'm not like the other witches and warlocks."

"You're not."

I spun around. "I nearly killed them all!" I shoved my hands into my hair and stared up at the full moon as my voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "I nearly killed them. I've been lying to myself all these years. I'm a monster like the rest of them. Oh God, I should never have left the Towers. I'm too dangerous to be among normal people."

Trixie marched up to me and smacked me hard enough to jerk my head around.

I stumbled back as fresh pain shot through my jaw and exploded across the side of my face. "What the hell!"

"You gonna kill me now?"

"What?" I groaned, struggling to understand what the fuck was happening.

"You gonna kill me now?"

"No, of course not." I was appalled at her question.

Trixie folded her arms over her chest and tipped her chin at me. "Then you're not like them and you know it. If I had done that to any other witch or warlock, I would have been toast before I took my next breath."

"It's not the same thing!"

"It is the same thing." Trixie stepped nearer and cradled my face in both of her hands, her thumb gently sweeping across my injured flesh. "You chose to leave the Towers and you chose not to kill those women from the Winter Court. No other warlock has ever done that. You chose to do the right thing and that's why you're different."

"Trix, you don't understand," I whispered, my voice shaking. "It was so close. If something had happened to you . . ."

The lovely elf placed her thumb against my lips and gave me a fragile smile. "But nothing happened to me. I'm safe and here. You didn't hurt anyone."

I pulled her against my chest, tucking her head against my shoulder while holding her tight as a shudder swept through me. Nothing had happened to her, but what if something did happen? Who would be able to stop me a second time? Could I be stopped? Tonight had been a close thing, possibly closer than Trixie knew or was willing to admit to herself.

My eyes fell closed and I breathed in her scent. Trixie was mine. I had given up my study of magic, my family, and even my identity so that I could be safe from the Towers. Trixie was the first thing in my life that I risked wanting for myself, and I wasn't about to let her be taken from me.

"I'm sorry about tonight. I know you had said that you wanted no crazy and I seem to be struggling to give you that," I said, pulling back a little so I could see her face.

Trixie lifted her head and flashed me a wry smile. "You do keep a girl on her toes."

"Wouldn't want you to get bored."

She snorted. "Not a chance."

"Sorry."

Trixie tipped her head back, looking up at the sky as if she were judging the time. "You know, it's not too late." Her smile grew as she looked back at me. "I do believe you promised me pizza and action movies."

"I think I remember something being discussed earlier this evening," I murmured. "Was that all you had in mind?"

Trixie's grin turned wicked as she rubbed her body against mine until my eyes nearly rolled back in my head. "I think I've got a few ideas about how to get back at you for tonight's fiasco."

My hands tightened on her ass, crushing her against me as my body hardened. "Anything," I groaned. "Anything you want." My mouth dropped down and captured her in a rough kiss that had her moaning before I lifted my head again. "Let's get out of here."

"Definitely," she said, her long, slender arms wrapped tightly around my neck.

As I looked up, I noticed a figure standing across the field directly in front of me. He hadn't been standing there seconds ago, but he had appeared with a slight shift of magical energy in the air. My body tensed and I clutched Trixie tightly against me. While I couldn't see the warlock's face in the darkness, I knew it was Gideon.

The warlock had been assigned to watch over me and make sure I didn't cast any spells beyond the occasional act of self-defense. Luckily, Gideon was open to negotiation, because I sucked at keeping that promise. Of course, Gideon also liked to knock the shit out of me when I stepped out of line.

The warlock didn't move, didn't speak. If he was going to kill me, he would have done it already. He just stood there as a warning. I'd have to pay the piper for tonight's little display and it was going to hurt. A lot. But I could talk my way out of a trip before the Towers' council, and Trixie was worth any amount of pain so long as she was safe.

Squeezing Trixie a little tighter, I gave a quick nod to Gideon. I'd deal with the consequences of my choices tomorrow when I was alone. The warlock was willing to give me tonight with Trixie. He might not like me or agree with my choices, but he understood the woman in my arms. She was light and love and the only one keeping the monster caged.

The Ghoul Next Door

TERRI GAREY

Chapter One

IT'S ALWAYS DARKEST before the dawn, so if you're going to raise someone from the dead, three in the morning is the best time to do it.

Cassie Calloway stood in an empty driveway on the edge of town, having left her car by the side of the road and hiked several hundred yards through an empty pasture. Before her stood a line of oak trees, gray-limbed titans draped in Spanish moss, reaching for the sky.

"You can do this," she murmured, talking to herself. "Don't be a wimp." Only a fool wouldn't be frightened; it was just before dawn on November 1, All Hallows' Eve, when the veil between worlds was at its thinnest. Breaking through it, even for a moment, could allow more than just one spirit to come through, and no one knew that better than Cassie Calloway, last of the Calloway witches.

She focused on the trees, letting their silent strength ground her. They'd been her trees once, just like the house behind them had once been her house. She'd climbed all over those oaks as a kid, a lonely tomboy who was always in trouble for her scraped knees and dirty hands. The azalea bushes scattered throughout the yard had once been bursting with blooms and buzzing with honeybees; now they were yellowed, spindly and sad.

She was twenty-seven now, no longer a lonely tomboy, but this house, this land, continued to call to her, and remained the only place she'd ever called home.

"What the hell are you doing out here?"

Whirling, Cassie saw the current owner of the house, James T. Falco, standing beside a tangle of what used to be neatly trimmed hedges.

A tingle touched her skin, barely felt, barely imagined, but Cassie closed her mind to it, letting it slide away like moonlight. Even in the dark, Falco wasn't hard to recognize; no one else had that air of lazy assurance, that mop of dark hair that looked as though it defied any effort at combing. She'd seen him often enough, speeding carelessly past the old mother-in-law cottage where she now lived, at the edge of what was now his property. If he wasn't her enemy, she'd be forced to admit he was a fine-looking man, but war left no room for weakness.

"Cassie Calloway." He stepped forward, out of the shadows. "Aren't you a little old for Halloween pranks?" He was warmly dressed in a jacket, jeans, and boots, as though lurking in the bushes at three a.m. was a perfectly normal thing to do.

Heart racing, mind working, Cassie narrowed her eyes. His presence during the ritual would require some extra precautions, but that was all--it wouldn't stop her from doing what she needed to do. Her nervousness fell away, leaving crystalline-hard resolve in its place.

"I didn't come out here to play a prank," she told him coldly.

"What a shame," he drawled, taking a step closer. "I so enjoyed the toilet paper and flaming dog poop last year. The way you rang the bell and ran away afterward was inspired."

Cassie shrugged, holding her head high. "You can't prove it was me. Your word against mine, unless you got me on tape or something." Pure childishness on her part, of course, but she'd been so frustrated by his arrival last year in Calloway Corners that she couldn't help herself. In the twelve months since, she'd found a better way to drive him off, even if it was dangerous for all concerned.

She could do it, she had to do it.

Falco sighed, breath like fog in the air. "We don't have to be enemies, Cassie." His face was a study in shadows; the jut of his nose, the line of his jaw. "There's no reason we can't get along . . . We're neighbors, after all."

"Sure. You sweep in at auction, steal my house, ignore it for years, then refuse to let me buy it back. Real neighborly of you."

He shifted his weight, hands in his pockets. "I didn't steal it," he said quietly. "My father bought it from your father, and paid a fair price for it."

"It wasn't his to sell," she snapped, still pained by her father's betrayal. "This property belonged to my mother's side of the family, and was supposed to go to me."

"And you never let anyone in this town forget it," Falco shot back grimly. "You've convinced half the town to have nothing to do with me, and the other half is actually convinced that the place is haunted."

Above her, an owl hooted , reminding her of everything she had to lose, and the sound made her feel brave, and powerful. Falco didn't know it, but there was magic in the air, and Cassie welcomed it, letting it sweep over her like the night wind.

"It's not haunted yet," she told him, "but after tonight, it's going to be."

He took another step closer. "I think you need to go home."

"I am home. This land, this house--it's special to me." She gave him one last chance to redeem himself. "I've offered more than once to buy it back, Falco. I didn't have the money when I was a teenager--I couldn't do anything about it when my dad sold it--but now I can give you everything you paid for it, and more."

"I like it here," he said stonily. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, lifted his chin. "I'm keeping it."

Cassie looked up then, at the moon shining brightly above their heads. A ripple moved across it, a glimmer, really, almost too faint to see.

"That's what you think," she said, just before the jasmine entwined around his ankles. It was up to his knees before he noticed it. "You don't belong here, and I'm taking my house back."

"WHAT THE--" FALCO felt his feet go out from under him, his butt hitting the ground painfully, with a solid thump. As quickly as it entwined his ankles, the jasmine entwined his wrists, pinning him in a seating position. He yanked and jerked, but there was no escaping it.

"The vines won't hurt you unless I tell them to," his troublesome little trespasser had the nerve to say. "You might as well sit still and stop pulling."

Incredulous, he ignored her advice, yanking and tugging some more. "What the hell is going on?"

"You weren't supposed to be out here tonight." Cassie didn't seem the least bit concerned that he'd been attacked by killer vegetation. She walked a few feet away, unslinging a leather bag from around her neck and placing it on the ground. Dressed all in black, the only bright spots about her were her hair, light blond and drawn into a ponytail, and her face, pale but expressionless. "You were supposed to be asleep."

"Sorry to disappoint you," he ground out. "A little help here?"

"No can do, Falco." She bent to gather deadwood, stacking it in her arms. "I have some work to do, and you're just going to have to sit through it."

"Work?" He gave the jasmine one last vicious yank, peering at it closely to see what kind of snare she'd used. All he could see was vines. "What kind of work is that?"

"My grandmother keeps coming to me in my dreams," she told him bluntly, dumping her first armload of wood into a pile about twelve feet in front of him. "She doesn't like having a stranger in her house, and quite frankly, neither do I." Brushing her hands together, Cassie placed them on her hips. "You wouldn't leave of your own accord, so now I'm forced to use my powers."

Falco gave a skeptical snort. "Your powers?"

Wordlessly, she held out her hands. Within moments, an eerie green glow began emanating from her palms. "Yes, my powers."

"Halloween tricks," he growled, glaring at her.

"No." Cassie shook her head slowly, meeting his fierce gaze. "I am the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, the last--and the strongest--of my line." She brought her hands together, creating what looked like a ball of green energy. "I'm a witch."

He muttered something that sounded like "witch" but wasn't, but good manners kept him from saying it too loudly.

She dropped her hands, which immediately returned to normal, the green glow disappearing. Then she turned away, letting him stew as she gathered more wood.

Frustrated and furious, he tugged and tested his bonds again and again, to no avail. The vines were as stubborn as she was, which he'd already learned was pretty darn stubborn. He knew more about Cassie Calloway than she thought he did, and somehow, someway, he was going to use it to his advantage.

Tossing the next armful of wood onto the pile, Cassie squatted next to it and blew, gently, willing it into flame. A red glow, a slight crackle, and it sparked to life. "Thank you," she whispered to the wood, surprising him with the gentleness of her tone; she'd certainly never spoken that way to him.

"So you're a witch." He was willing to humor her if it helped him get free. "Did you put some kind of spell on these vines?"

"I didn't have to. They sensed what I wanted them to do, and they did it."

"The vines read your mind." He tried to keep the skepticism from his voice, and failed.

"I'm very attuned to plants," she snapped, "and they to me."

He sighed. Why were the hot chicks always the craziest? Cassie Calloway was downright gorgeous, even in the dark, but she clearly had a screw loose.

And she hated his guts.

He clearly remembered the first time he saw her, behind the counter at what passed for the local grocery store. Calloway Corners wasn't a very big town, which was one of the things he liked about it. One look at that silvery blond hair and curvaceous body, and he'd done a double take. Then she'd narrowed those green eyes, turned up that cute little nose, and snubbed him dead, right there at the counter.

"We're closed," she'd told him coldly, even though there'd been several other people in the store. Then she'd turned her back and walked away from the register, leaving him stranded with a basket of much-needed groceries. The old guy who owned the place had to come out and ring him up, and when he did, Falco had found out who she was.

Cassie Calloway, the woman who'd been harassing him about the house for years. Letters, phone calls . . . she'd even sicced some lawyer on him, claiming the sale at auction had violated her family trust.

If she knew the real reason he was here, she might not object to his presence quite so much, but she'd never given him a chance to explain.

Hell, she wouldn't believe it anyway.

"I'm not your enemy, Cassie."

"Maybe not, Falco, but you're an obstacle, and I will no longer be bound by obstacles."

She rose to her feet, staring down at the flames. "I need my grandmother's help to make you see reason, so I came here tonight to raise her spirit from the dead. Once I do . . ." She hesitated, rubbing her arms as though she were cold. "Once I do, Granny Jane won't give you a moment's peace." Dropping her arms, she turned to face him. "Unfortunately for you, she won't be able to leave until I release her."

"She sounds lovely," Falco said dryly. "Social skills must run in the family."

"Granny Jane didn't like trespassers, and neither do I."

"I'm not a trespasser," he said flatly.

"You are to me."

Kneeling beside her bag, she rummaged around and pulled out two items, the first one making his blood run cold. It was a knife, about seven inches long with a broad handle, moonlight gleaming along the blade.

"Cassie--" Falco warned, but the jasmine rustled, a few coils moving up his neck. One entwined itself in his hair, pulling his head back until his throat was exposed.

"Don't worry," she murmured, giving him a sideways glance. "One little prick, and then it's over." Rising, she came toward him. "You should be used to that."

"This isn't funny," he said, between gritted teeth. "Let me go."

She was right in front of him now, so close he could make out her features, see the determined look in her eye. She knelt, letting the arm with which she held the knife rest on her knee. "Don't be such a baby, Falco," she murmured, showing him what she had in her other hand. It was a small silver cup, the edge chased with symbols. "I only need a little."

And with that, she placed the point of the knife just under his right ear. "Trust me?" she whispered, her lush lips far too close to his own.

He didn't answer, refusing to flinch or look away from her eyes, dark green pools of mystery that revealed nothing. A moment passed, an eternity, and he was gratified when she was the first to break eye contact.

Then he felt a slight sting, and the coolness of metal against his neck as she used the cup to collect the blood she'd caused to flow.

"Believe it or not, it's for your own protection," she told him. "A small blood offering now could save you from becoming a bloody mess later."

"Gee," he ground out, "thanks."

She rose, taking the cup and the knife with her. Moving back to where she'd left her leather bag, she placed the cup on the ground and used the knife to make a small nick on her wrist, holding it over the bowl. Having made her own bloody contribution to the contents, she reached into the bag and pulled out a small bundle of herbs, tied tightly with a cord, and used it to mix the shared blood.

Then she pulled out a book, worn leather by the looks of it, bound with twine. Gently, almost reverently, she undid the twine, keeping it in her hand as she placed the book back into her satchel. Picking up the bundle of blood-soaked herbs, she rose and moved toward the fire.

The herb bundle flared as she held it to the flames, releasing a noxious stink into the air, then subsided, emitting a sweet-smelling smoke.

"A word of advice, Falco." Cassie's voice was grim. "You're going to see some things tonight that you shouldn't. I don't care if you tell the world about it afterward--no one's going to believe you anyway--but for now I suggest that you stay very, very quiet. In situations like this, it's best not to draw unwanted attention to yourself."

"Situations like this? Cutting people against their will at three in the morning, you mean?"

She shot him a dirty look, not deigning to answer. Then she stood tall, and lifting the smoldering bundle of herbs aloft, turned her face to the moon. Ignoring him completely, she began to speak.

"Honor to thee, Nimue, keeper of the night sky. Bathe my soul with moonlight, and see that my motives are pure."

There was nothing but silence, broken only by the faint crackle of flames. Despite himself, James couldn't tear his eyes away from her curves, backlit as she was by the fire.

Spreading her arms to encompass the trees, Cassie spoke to them, as well. "Honor to thee, oh spirits of these ancient oaks. Stand with me as guardians this night, sheltering me as I breach the veil between the living and the dead."

The scent of burning sage rose in the air, drifting, enshrouding the oaks. Cassie walked slowly around the fire, purifying the air with sweet-smelling smoke, murmuring words in a language he didn't understand.

She seemed to have forgotten he was there, and he decided not to remind her. Instead, he watched and listened, finding himself fascinated by the way the moonlight both revealed and hid her face, gliding along her jawline, turning her eyes from pockets of shadow to glittering diamonds.

When the bundle of herbs burned low, she tossed it onto the bonfire, where it caught and flared, releasing the last of its essence in a misty plume that reached directly for the moon.

"Let the flames be a beacon to the one whom I seek." She raised her arms and looked upward, as though opening herself to the night. "Let the smoke take her form, the words wake her from her slumber."

The green glow he'd seen earlier began again, this time beginning at the top of her head and working its way downward, until she was outlined in green, pulsating waves of energy that leaped and swirled around her.

"Let those who are at rest keep their peace, and those who are not keep their distance. I seek only one spirit tonight, the one who taught me the ways of the Old Religion. I, Cassiopeia Calloway, call upon the Three-Fold Goddess, the Lady of the Wild Wood, keeper of the Green Magick. I call upon the Elementals of Earth and Fire. I petition and invoke the mysteries, and bid them make seen for me what is unseen for others."

Then she tossed the piece of twine onto the fire, and stood quietly, as though waiting.

Rapt despite himself, Falco kept quiet as the smoke from the bonfire began to swirl, faster and faster, rising into the night sky. The plume thickened, taking shape, lengthening and widening. It behaved as no smoke he'd ever seen behave, twisting round and round, snaking its way back downward to the ground in clear defiance of the laws of gravity.

Then it broke away from the fire entirely, and became its own.

There, in the shadows beneath the ancient oaks, it flickered and wisped, and resolved itself into the figure of a woman, bent and withered with age.

Gray hair, caught in a bun at the nape of her neck. A long dress, sturdy shoes, a ruffled apron; a woman who looked as though she'd be more comfortable in the kitchen than the woods.

For the first time that evening, Cassie smiled, a brilliant smile that changed her face entirely. The smile faded however, as the old woman turned to Falco and said, quite warmly, "James, my boy. How lovely to see you."

Without missing a beat, Falco answered her easily.

"Evening, Miz Calloway. Great to finally see you too."

"Has my granddaughter been giving you trouble?"

Falco sighed, shrugging his shoulders. The jasmine vines slid effortlessly from his body, leaving him free. "More than you know, ma'am." He got up, and faced Cassie, who stood white-faced and silent. "But now that we've been blood-bonded, everything should be fine."

Chapter Two

"I DON'T UNDERSTAND." The green glow around Cassie began to fade. "What's going on here?"

Her face was white as bone in the moonlight, her eyes wide with shock. In that moment, Falco almost felt sorry for her.

"All will be revealed in time," said Granny Jane Calloway, gently. "You can't invoke the mysteries without expecting some to occur." The old woman leveled a stern look upon her granddaughter, and added, "You seem to have forgotten the rules, Cassie."

She shook her head. "No, Granny, I haven't forgotten anything, I swear! I've done nothing to break the Rede, nothing that would bring harm to anyone." Shooting Falco a quick look of resentment, she added, "I just wanted to scare him off, that's all."

"He doesn't scare easily," Granny Jane answered, with the flicker of a smile. "Never seen two such stubborn people in all my born days."

"You know each other?"

"We should." Falco grinned at the stunned expression on Cassie's face. "We've been living together for over a year."

Granny Jane made a tsking sound, shooing his words away. "Go along with you, James Falco. You make it sound like I'm some kind of hussy."

"Never, Miz Calloway," he told her, with a glint of teasing in his eye. "You're a lady." He gave Cassie a wry look, making it clear that the words "unlike your granddaughter" were on the tip of his tongue.

"This--" Cassie raised a hand to her forehead, obviously confused. "This makes no sense."

"Neither does what you're doing," Falco said sourly. "Dirty trick, if you ask me."

"I was trying to get my land back," she spat, angry and exasperated. "I wasn't going to hurt you!"

"Doing no harm is not the only Rule of Conduct for witches," said Falco, taking a step closer. "There's another, even older, that forbids the use of power against those with power of their own, for both of us draw from the same well." He held out his hands, letting her see the faint blue glow that arose from his palms. "As you are Earth, I am Sky," he said simply, and with that, the night began to darken.

"No," she gasped, shaking her head. "You are nothing, and no one!"

"Believe what you like," he told her. "But belief is not enough to make it so." And with that, he raised his hands to the sky.

She looked up, as did he, to see the face of Nimue, Moon Goddess, become obscured by clouds. The night grew darker and darker, illuminated only by the bonfire, which had begun to burn low.

"Granny Jane?" For the first time, he detected a note of fear in Cassie's voice. "Where are you? Where'd you go?"

He glanced to where the old woman had been standing, but she was gone.

Cassie ran to the spot, calling. "Granny Jane! Come back!"

Falco remained where he was, arms toward the heavens, seeing her far more clearly in the darkness than she ever would him. The power he'd brought forth had sharpened his vision to the level of the owl, hooting mournfully in the trees above their heads.

The blue glow around his hands intensified, and a low rumble of thunder began, followed by a flash of lightning that split the sky. Wind came sweeping across the fields and through the oaks, bringing rain with it: hard and heavy, slashing through leaves and branches, hitting the ground with a pounding roar.

"What are you doing?" Cassie shrieked at him over the remains of the dying fire, furious and thwarted. The flames hissed and spit like angry cats, sending up plumes of sodden smoke. "Stop it!"

To Falco, Cassie looked like an angry cat herself, all green eyes and wet hair, emanating outrage and fury.

"As you are Fire, I am Water," he responded, nearly having to shout to be heard above the downpour. "I hate to break it to you, but you're not the only one with powers in Calloway Corners."

Aghast, wild-eyed, she shook her head, denying his words. "No! I would've known it, I would've felt it . . ."

"It's true," he shouted. "Come inside and let's talk about it."

Another flash of lightning, closer this time, made Cassie flinch, and Falco lowered his hands. The blue glow abated, but the storm didn't, growing wilder in its intensity. The wind buffeted the oaks, howling around them, sweeping away all traces of Cassie's sweet-smelling smoke.

"Granny Jane!" she shouted desperately, drenched and buffeted herself. "Where are you?"

Falco moved, surefooted in the darkness, and caught Cassie by the elbow. Even that close, he still had to shout. "Your grandmother is in the house," he told her. "Where she's been all along. Come inside."

Her eyes were huge in her face, pools of hurt and distrust that told him much about her. She was strong, this one, but he was stronger. He willed her to see it, to acknowledge it.

"I'll come inside," she said, snatching her elbow from his grip. "But if you touch me again, I'll kill you."

THE HOUSE LOOKED much as she remembered, except for the furniture, which was far more modern and expensive than the secondhand stuff she'd grown up with.

Cassie stood in the living room, dripping water all over the entryway rug, a nice Persian runner that was probably going to be ruined. Unlike the outside of the house, the inside was spotlessly neat, hardwood floors reflecting the glow of a fire crackling in the hearth. The sight of it comforted her, and she moved toward it.

"I'll get some towels," Falco said, but she barely heard him. She was too busy looking around, noticing the new paint on the walls, the camel-colored sofa that looked nothing like the old floral one she'd spent so much time on as a kid, poring over the spells contained in Granny's grimoire. The worn leather book was in her satchel, which she'd grabbed before running into the house.

The sound of cabinet doors opening and closing came from down the hall, which she knew led to the bathroom, and further on, the master bedroom that had once been her parents'. Her room had been upstairs, and she could no more stop her feet from moving toward the staircase than she could stop the storm from raging outside.

The fourth stair creaked, just as it always had, the wood of the banister smooth against her wet fingers. Clutching it for all she was worth, Cassie continued past the first landing, merely glancing at the second floor hallway, and followed the stairs to the tiny third floor, which held little besides a small arched window and her old room, tucked up under the eaves.

"Cassie?" Falco's voice came from downstairs, but she ignored it, putting her fingers on the clear glass doorknob she'd touched so many times, and turning it. It twisted easily, and then the door was open, laying her childhood bare before her.

The room was empty, of course, as empty as her heart had been since she left it. There was a brown stain on the wallpaper beneath the window, evidence that water had seeped in at some point. A big scratch on the wooden floor that she didn't remember, which could've been made by the movers the day they'd packed up her life and taken it away.

Crossing to the window, she looked out on a view that had once been peacefully familiar, but was now dark and storm-lashed.

"You left wet footprints all the way up the stairs," said Falco grumpily, from the doorway behind her. "Here."

She turned, automatically catching the towel he tossed her. He'd already been using one on himself, as his dark curls were wildly disordered, not lank and dripping as hers were. The cut beneath his ear was no longer bleeding, a mere scratch that would be gone in a few days.

"Nice room," he said, glancing around. "Was it yours?"

Cassie nodded frostily, feeling no less hostile than she had earlier. She was glad, in fact, that he didn't come in, for cornering her in her old bedroom while she felt this vulnerable and defenseless was not a good idea; she might end up clawing his eyes out if he got too close.

He seemed to sense it, for he kept his distance.

They were blue, those eyes, as blue as the sky that he apparently controlled, as blue as the water he'd apparently summoned.

She still had a hard time wrapping her head around the idea that James Falco had powers of any kind, and worse, that she'd been in total ignorance of them.

Why hadn't Granny Jane warned her?

"I haven't gotten around to doing anything with this room yet," Falco told her, as though he had the right to use it any way he pleased, which--Goddess curse him--he did. "I think your grandmother prefers it the way it is."

"Where is she?" Cassie eyed him distrustfully, wishing he'd move away from the doorway. "You said she was inside."

Falco shrugged. "She comes and goes. Moving things around, slamming cabinet doors in the kitchen if I leave them open, that kind of thing."

Cassie did know, for Granny Jane had never been one to keep her opinions to herself, and she liked things tidy.

"You two seem pretty cozy together." Hating the spear of jealousy that pierced her, she crossed her arms, forcing herself to keep meeting his eye.

"It's not like I had much choice," he said, unsuccessfully hiding a grin. "Miz Calloway wasn't going anywhere until she was good and ready, and it was easier to make peace with her than to wake up every morning to the sound of breaking dishes." He shook his head, looking rueful. "That old woman has cost me a fortune in glass and china. Thank goodness for China Barn and the Internet."

"We're not blood-bonded," she told him baldly, deciding to get right to the heart of things. "Blood bonding requires the consent of both parties, and I took yours without it."

He raised a dark eyebrow. "Did you?"

"Of course I did," she shot back, but inwardly she faltered, remembering how easily the vines had fallen away. She hadn't willed them to; could he have gotten free any time he wanted? "Why would you have willingly blood-bonded with me?" Holding his eye, she added, quite deliberately, "I don't like you, Falco."

"You're the one who invoked the mysteries." He shrugged. "I'll let your granny explain that one."

Glaring at him, Cassie weighed her options, feeling very much at a disadvantage. The blood bond was not something to take lightly; it came with rules and responsibilities, when all she wanted was her house back, free and clear.

"How did you--" She sighed, putting thoughts of the bond aside for now, as he clearly wasn't going to elaborate on the topic. "How did you know who she was? How did you get her to make peace with you?"

"I talked to her," he answered simply. "It's a basic negotiation tool--you might wanna try it sometime."

She narrowed her eyes, not appreciating the tinge of sarcasm.

"I'm sure your granny will explain things to you when she's ready." He turned away, putting his hand on the banister. "I'm going to change these wet clothes." His glance flicked over her briefly. "Want me to bring you a shirt?"

"Don't bother," she snapped, "I'll be dry before you will." It would take only a tiny bit of power to dry her own clothes, for the burn of her anger and resentment would do most of the work for her.

"I don't waste the craft on things I can do myself," he said quietly, "and neither should you."

And with that piece of unwanted advice, he left her, heading downstairs. After a moment, a door closed on the second floor, which--based purely on the familiar sound--was the room her sisters Kathy and Beth had once shared. Kathy was a schoolteacher in Savannah, and Beth was a nurse; none of her six sisters had inherited the Power, and all lived normal lives because of it.

Pulling at the band that held her ponytail, Cassie freed her hair so she could dry it with the towel. Blue, like Falco's eyes, and smelling of fabric softener. Rubbing and squeezing at the dripping strands, she moved back to the window, recalling other times and other towels, threadbare with washings and smelling of sunshine. They'd never had a dryer, making do with an old clothesline out back. It had been a lot of work, but she and her sisters had taken turns; chores were expected. No one had seemed to mind, for the house had been full of love and laughter.

Then, when she was seven, Granny died, and her sisters began to move away, one by one. By the time she was fourteen, a sudden stroke took her mother, and only she and her father were left to look after things.

As she rested her forehead against the glass, memories swept over her, and Cassie let them come.

She'd been the youngest, and the only one born with what Granny Jane had referred to as the "calling." She'd always been different, and even now it was sometimes hard to relate to her sisters and their husbands and their various happy, noisy offspring. She loved them all, of course, but normality didn't seem to be in the cards for her.

"It's good to have you home, dear."

Cassie whirled, and there was Granny, looking exactly as she remembered.

"You've grown into such a beautiful young woman." The figure before her was semi-transparent, but the smile on the elderly face was clear. "So much like your mother."

Without Falco around to see her show weakness, Cassie's eyes filled with tears. "Oh, Granny Jane . . . I'm so sorry."

"Whatever for?" The figure drifted closer, wispy and incorporeal, yet so real that Cassie could see the buttons on Granny's shirt, smell the scent of the lavender water she'd always worn.

"For losing the house. For letting you down." Cassie hugged the towel to her chest, wishing desperately she could do the same to her grandmother. "I failed us. I failed the Calloways."

Granny shook her head, still smiling. "You haven't let me down, Cassie." She flickered again, beginning to fade. "Not yet anyway."

A hellacious pounding came from downstairs, making Cassie jump.

"Opportunity is knocking," Granny whispered, just before she disappeared entirely. "It's up to you to let it in."

Then she was gone, and the pounding came again, like the pounding of Cassie's heart, erratic and broken.

Chapter Three

THE POUNDING ON the front door caught James unaware, and at first, he thought it might be Miz Calloway, up to her old tricks. Then it came again, and he heard Cassie's hurried steps on the stairs. He opened the door to his room to find her on the landing outside, heading downward.

Seeing him, she froze, her eyes moving from his face to his bare chest; he hadn't had time to button his shirt. Despite the insistent pounding on his front door, he found himself hoping she liked what she saw, because he certainly did.

She'd freed her hair from its ponytail, and even damp, it framed her heart-shaped face perfectly. Her black T-shirt and jeans clung to her curves as though molded, and he felt his balls tighten at the sight of her nipples, pointed and erect.

His earlier offer to bring her a dry shirt had been for his benefit, not hers, but damned if he was going to tell her that.

"There's someone at the door," she said, turning those incredible green eyes away as she hurried past him, on her way downstairs.

"Wait," he ordered. "Don't answer it."

"Why not?" She reached the foot of the stairs a few seconds before he did.

"Think for a minute." He was right behind her, buttoning his shirt as he descended the steps. "You've already opened one doorway tonight . . . do you really want to open another?"

She paused, hand on the doorknob.

The pounding hadn't stopped. It grew louder, in fact, wilder, as though whoever--or whatever--was on the other side was determined to get in.

"Granny Jane just told me that opportunity was knocking, and it was up to me to let it in." Slowly, she removed her hand. "But as much as I hate to admit it, you may be right."

The admission surprised him, as did what she said next.

"You open it."

She had nerve, this one, and while it annoyed the hell out of him, a part of him secretly admired it. "Why would I do that?"

Cassie shrugged, stepping away from the door. "You keep telling me that this is your house, not mine."

"I don't need more trouble than I already have," he told her. "You cut through the veil between the living and the dead on All Hallows' Eve . . . there's no telling what's out there."

A flash of lightning, followed by the loud rumble of thunder, punctuated his statement.

"Help," came a voice from the other side of the door. "Help me, please!"

The voice was distinctly feminine, and very much in distress. "Is anyone there?" The doorknob rattled as someone tried it from the outside, and James was glad of his unconscious habit of locking it behind him. "Oh, help me, please!"

Cassie's eyes went wide with surprise, and if he wasn't mistaken, more than a touch of relief that the voice was human.

He, however, was yet to be convinced that opening the door was a good idea. He gave her a warning look, and shook his head.

"We can't just leave her out there," Cassie hissed, reaching for the knob again. "She sounds terrified."

James caught her hand, unprepared for the surge of power that raced up his arm. Maybe it was those pert nipples, but what he felt was definitely sexual in nature, heating his blood in a way he'd never felt before. Whatever it was, Cassie felt it too, for she cried out, trying to wrench her hand away.

He wouldn't let her, in large part because it felt so damn good, but mainly because he really, really didn't want her to open that door.

Something wasn't right, and he wasn't going to let the bolt of lust that shook him put them both in danger.

"Please," the woman shrieked, her voice nearly drowned by another clap of thunder. "My boyfriend's hurt! He's bleeding!"

Cassie's breath was coming fast, as was his. She'd stopped trying to pull away, and was just staring at him with those big green eyes; eyes he could lose himself in, if he let himself. Her breasts rose and fell, her damp hair tumbling over her shoulders like moonlight.

"Shit," he muttered, and let go of her hand. Turning away, almost eager for a fight, a distraction, anything to keep himself from crushing her against him, he jerked open the door.

WHEN CASSIE SAW the blood, her heart sank. When she saw the teeth, however, she sprang into action.

The girl lunged at James, fangs bared, but Cassie got there first, sending a wave of energy that knocked the girl backward. Stunned, the girl threw up an arm to cover her eyes, cowering away from the sudden flash of green light.

"It's a costume," Falco hissed, grabbing Cassie by the elbow. "Calm down."

The girl whimpered, lowering her arm, and Cassie got her first good look at their uninvited guest.

Soaking wet, wearing a black fright wig and vampire teeth, fake blood smeared over her chin and throat. Thick-soled boots and torn fishnets, black leather jacket and short black skirt, much too short for such cold, wet weather.

Falco stepped forward, helping the girl up.

"Help me, please," the girl gasped, clinging to his hand. "My boyfriend's out there, in the woods. Please . . ."

"Take it easy," James murmured, leading the girl inside. "Come in. Tell us what happened."

Closing and locking the front door behind them, Cassie followed James and the girl into the living room, where he led her to a seat on the couch near the fire.

"There's a blanket in the hall closet," he murmured, and Cassie rushed to get it, doing her best to ignore the belated warning bells that were going off inside her head. What was the girl doing out here, alone in the middle of the night? The house was well off the beaten path, and on the way to nowhere--town was at least fifteen minutes away.

When she came back, James was adding more wood to the fire, while the girl, who appeared to be in shock, rocked back and forth on the couch, arms wrapped tightly around herself.

"Here you go," Cassie said gently, draping the blanket across the girl's shoulders. She sat down next to her, resting a hand on her back. Unbeknownst to the girl, she sent calming vibes, fearing the girl was on the edge of hysteria.

To be honest, she felt a twinge of hysteria herself; whatever had passed between her and James when he touched her hand had left her deeply shaken, and she couldn't believe how instinctively she'd reacted to what she'd perceived as a threat to his safety. "You're safe now. Tell us what happened."

"I don't know what happened," the girl wept. She was trembling, goose pimples showing through the torn rents in her stockings. "One minute we were laughing and having fun, and the next minute a storm came up, and he just sort of went nuts."

Up close, Cassie could see that the fangs were merely fake tips, obviously glued in place, as the girl made no effort to remove them. She and Falco exchanged a glance over the girl's head. "Went nuts?"

The girl shook her head, gathering the blanket more tightly about her. "I don't know . . . lightning freaks him out or something. He grabbed my hand and we started running for the car, but he tripped and hurt his leg. He told me to go get help but I didn't want to leave him, so I tried to help him get up and he just--" She put her face in her hands and started to sob. "He started yelling about something coming toward us in the woods. I didn't see anything, but he shoved me really hard toward the car and told me to run, to hurry, not to wait for him." She cried even harder, smearing mascara and fake blood all over the blanket. "I shouldn't have left him, but I did . . . I was so scared."

"Easy now," Cassie murmured, though her own heart was racing. Something in the woods?

"Where is he now?" Falco asked, and the girl shook her head. "I don't know! I got to the car and realized that he had the keys, so I went back for him, but I couldn't find him! It was dark, and I was afraid, and when I saw the lights come on inside the house I just came here."

Wordlessly, Cassie wrapped an arm around the girl's shaking shoulders, feeling more guilty by the second.

"We didn't think anyone lived out here, you know?" The girl sniffled, beginning to calm. "We didn't mean any harm, just figured it would be fun to do a little ghost hunting or something. Everybody in town says the place is haunted." She raised her tear-streaked face to Cassie's white one. "We were just having a little fun."

"I'll go look for him," said James. "You two stay here."

Cassie shot up from the couch.

"Can I . . . um . . ." She skewed her eyes toward the girl, then back to James. " . . . talk to you for a second?"

"We'll be right back," he told the girl gently, touching her on shoulder. The quick stab of jealousy Cassie felt surprised her, but she wrote it off as a by-product of her general unease, and headed toward the kitchen.

James followed her through the dining room where'd she'd eaten so many meals (the scratched-up old farm table was gone, replaced by a cherrywood dining set) and into the kitchen. The familiar creak of the swinging door as he shut it behind him hurt her heart, for it sounded like the protesting groan of an old friend. Taking a moment to look around, she noted that the black and white tiled floor was the same, but the old appliances had been replaced with shiny stainless steel new ones, and the walls had been painted a deep shade of red. Swallowing hard, she privately admitted to herself that the changes were a definite improvement.

"What is it?" His voice was grim, the gentle tone he'd used with the girl gone.

Cassie shook her head, pushing damp hair from her face. "Something's wrong," she whispered. "I don't like this."

Falco just looked at her, stone-faced. "You started this, Cassie, and now there's some weirded-out, injured guy wandering around on the property. If there really is something out there, do you really think we should leave him to it?"

"It was probably just Granny Jane, warning him off." Hopefully. "I'll call Sheriff Tatum, and . . ." With a sinking heart, Cassie remembered that she'd left her cell phone in the car; modern technology could interfere with ancient ritual, and she hadn't planned on needing it. Her eyes went automatically to the spot where a wall phone once hung, but it was no longer there, the jack removed, patched and painted over. "Where's your cell phone?"

Falco frowned, looking uncomfortable. "The charger disappeared three days ago." He ran a hand through already disordered dark curls. "I'm pretty sure your granny took it."

"Why would she do that?" Cassie asked, exasperated, but she was pretty sure she already knew the answer.

"Because she likes to mess with my head," he whispered angrily. "Bringing you out here tonight is a perfect example."

"She didn't bring me, I came on my own."

"That's what you think, sweetheart. She wanted you to think that the house was going to wrack and ruin, so you'd get mad enough to show up and try something drastic, which you did." His blue eyes bored into her own. "You took the bait, hook, line, and sinker."

"You didn't have to cooperate with her," she muttered resentfully.

One dark eyebrow quirked. "Didn't I? Your granny was a pretty powerful green witch, you know . . . every single thing I did to clean up the yard, she'd reverse by the next morning. Every pulled weed, every trimmed branch, every cut blade of grass. Wouldn't let me do anything to the outside of the house either . . . no nails, no paint, no shingles. She knew you were keeping an eye on the place, and that the worse it looked, the madder you'd get."

"Why?" Frustration made her voice sharp. "Why would she do that?"

He shrugged. "You know her better than I do, but my guess is that she wanted you to come here and do exactly what you did. I don't have the kind of power it would take to make her visible, but you do."

Glaring at him, Cassie wanted to argue, but there was no point. Granny Jane clearly had some sort of agenda going, and damned if she knew what it was.

"We're wasting time," said Falco, moving toward the pantry. He opened it, taking a flashlight down from the top shelf. "I'll just go out and find this guy, and then we can send both him and his girlfriend on their merry way." He paused by the swinging door, giving her a significant look. "Then you, me, and your granny are going to sit down and have a nice, long talk."

He pushed open the door to the dining room and strode through it, only to stop dead in his tracks.

A stranger sat at the dining room table, sharp-eyed and silent, the formerly hysterical girl standing behind his chair, a smug look on her face. On the table before them lay Granny Jane's grimoire.

"Vincent." Falco's voice was hard as granite. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Chapter Four

"THAT'S MY BOOK," Cassie said, recovering quickly from her surprise. She eyed the stranger warily, for not only was the grimoire precious to her, but it could be extremely dangerous in the wrong hands.

"Is it?" The stranger put his hand on top of the worn leather binding. "Then you must be Cassiopeia Calloway." Ignoring James for the moment, he sent her an evil grin. "So nice to finally meet you."

The girl giggled, drawing Cassie's venomous gaze. There was nothing helpless or hysterical about her now--she even had the nerve to bare her fake fangs in Cassie's direction.

"What do you want, Vincent?" Falco edged in front of her, but no way was she hiding behind his back when her family heritage was at stake. She stepped around him, to stand by his side, and looked Vincent in the eye.

Brown eyes, like his hair, which was short, cropped close to his head.

"I have to thank your girlfriend," Vincent said, "for weakening the veil. I wasn't sure how I was going to get past it, but she's made it easy for me." His gaze flicked over Cassie's damp hair, traveled slowly over her figure, making her skin crawl. "Between this"--he patted the book possessively--"and that stupid little stunt she pulled earlier, I should have no trouble accomplishing what I came here to do."

"Which is what?" Cassie didn't like being spoken about as though she wasn't there. "What do you want?"

Vincent gave her a dark look. "My birthright, of course, and a place to enjoy it. Our father knew this place was special, that's why he bought it. The union of our families could've created a new generation of witches, stronger than any of those who came before."

Cassie felt the blood drain from her face, leaving her cold as ice.

"Too bad dear old Dad was too weak to force the issue. He actually thought that you and James might be drawn together without his help if he let nature take its course." He grinned at her, evil and leering. "Needless to say, he picked the wrong brother, and if I'd known what you looked like, I would've taken James's place much earlier in the game."

"Leave Cassie out of this," James growled.

"Bonded already, have you?" Vincent's grin faded, leaving a nasty sneer in its place. "That's too bad . . . fucked her yet, brother?"

Beside her, Falco was still as a stone, tension radiating from him in waves.

"Is it as good as they say?" Vincent's voice took on a mocking tone. "One witch, two witch, green witch, blue witch . . . did the earth move for you, James?"

For the first time in her life, Cassie felt an urge to hurt someone, badly. She wanted to wipe that smirk off Vincent's face in the worst possible way, but took her cue from James, who said nothing.

Vincent, receiving no response to his baiting, shrugged a black-clad shoulder. "No matter, I'll fuck the bitch myself when you're dead, and find out."

Falco moved so fast that he seemed a mere blur, and before Cassie knew it, he had his brother by the throat. The chair in which Vincent was sitting flew over backward, the girl stumbling out of the way. The grimoire was still on the table, and Cassie made a grab for it, but it flew across the room as though it had a mind of its own, landing on the floor near the window.

Leaving the two men to battle it out, Cassie went after the book of spells, but the girl grabbed her by the hair, slowing her down. Cassie swung around, ready to rake her nails across the lying bitch's face, but was distracted by the sight of James being hurled backward across the room, his brother having kicked him in the stomach. A blow to the side of her face caught her unaware, and for a moment, she saw stars. A hard shove sent her reeling, her head hit something hard, and then there was nothing save a yawning chasm of blackness, which widened, swallowing her whole.

SLOWLY, THE BLACKNESS turned to gray, then to a brilliant azure blue. A light breeze touched her skin, soothing the ache in her head, and she could smell the scent of lavender--so safe, so familiar. Cassie wanted nothing more than to lie there, motionless, marveling at the arched blue vault of heaven, enjoying the caress of the wind as it ruffled her hair. A sigh escaped her, for this was bliss, the earth firm beneath her back, the sky above her head, the warm breeze on her skin like the touch of a lover's hand . . .

"Cassie," a voice murmured. "Cassie, wake up."

She didn't want to, so she did the opposite, closing her eyes, wanting only to drift, peaceful and happy in a way she hadn't felt in years. The breeze touched her lips, which she opened, the better to breathe it in, and felt a pressure, a moist heat that sent pleasure straight to the spot between her legs, making her want to open herself like a flower in the sun.

"Cassie," the voice murmured again, "I need you, baby . . . it's time to wake up."

It was the endearment that did it, reaching through the strange fog of pleasure and desire that held her in its grip, bringing her to full wakefulness. She opened her eyes to see a man's face, her soul recognizing him before her mind did: James Falco, the other half of herself, the half she'd never even known was missing.

The very thought scared the shit out of her.

"What are you doing?" she cried, and tried to push him away, but found that her arms didn't work. They were bound to her sides, and along with that awareness came pain and discomfort, dispelling the bliss she'd been so close to experiencing.

"Shhh," he whispered, drawing back on his own. "They'll hear us."

Shocked and frightened, Cassie realized that she was not outside, as the blue vault of heaven was nowhere in sight. She and James were somewhere dark, in fact, somewhere that smelled of oil, gasoline, and concrete. Her eyes adjusted quickly, and she saw that he was bound too, just as she was, lying on the ground next to her.

"We're in the garage," he murmured, "and I doubt we have much time. How's your head?"

"It hurts," she whispered crossly, completely off-balance emotionally. Even as she said it, she realized that the ache in her head was easing considerably. It hit her then, the source of her blissful dream, and she tempered her tone. "You were trying to help just now, weren't you?"

His teeth gleamed white in the darkness. "Nah. I was just stealing a kiss."

"Liar," she muttered, but couldn't help a small grin in return.

There was a silence between them, oddly comfortable given the circumstances. Maybe it was the dream, maybe it was the blood bond she'd unwittingly wrought, or maybe it was just being here, alone with him in the dark, but when she spoke again, her fear was mostly gone, leaving acceptance in its place.

"What are we going to do?"

He turned his head to look at her, and she found herself wishing she could see him better, so she could gaze into his eyes and see again the blue of the skies. "We're going to get through this," he told her firmly. "Can you get your hands free?"

She tried, she really did, but there was no give in whatever bound her. Looking down, she could tell it was duct tape, and her heart sank, for she had very little power over man-made materials; rope was something she might've been able to work with. "No, can you?"

"No." There was a note of finality in his voice that told her he'd already been trying. "Vincent used a binding spell, and then made sure to put us somewhere completely cut off from the elements. What little power I had left after raising the storm I used to ease your headache and bring you to consciousness . . . I've got nothing left to draw upon."

And neither did she, Cassie realized. The concrete beneath her gave off no warmth, and the garage walls and ceiling were made of tin. Her grandfather had built it years ago, using only his hands and pieces of scrap metal from the town junkyard; there were no windows.

"Thank you," she whispered, clinging to the remnants of comfort she'd felt while unconscious. "That was kind of you."

She could practically hear him shrug. "It was nothing."

Lying there, mind working, she remembered what she'd heard in the dining room. "Vincent's your brother?" The idea seemed ludicrous. Even though she didn't know James well, considered him her enemy for the past year, she hadn't sensed any evil in him.

Vincent, however, was obviously oozing with it.

"Yeah," he answered grimly, "he's my brother, but we've never seen eye to eye. Hard to believe we're blood, quite frankly--he's always been a real piece of work."

"He's a--" Cassie couldn't quite bring herself to use the word "witch," and used the masculine version instead. "A sorcerer?"

James gave a snort of disgust. "A pretty crappy one. He never wanted to put in the time or the effort to be any good at it; always looking for shortcuts, that was Vincent." He shifted, clearly uncomfortable. "If I hadn't been distracted when you hit your head, he would've never gotten the jump on me."

Cassie bit her lip, realizing more than ever the trouble she'd brought down on both of them tonight. "He has the grimoire." The idea of all the bad things he could do with it was frightening. "I should never have come here tonight."

James sighed. "What happened tonight was bound to happen, Cassie. Your grandmother knew it, my father knew it . . . evil was coming, and I think their hope was that if you and I . . ." He hesitated. " . . . that we could fight it together."

"So that's why you came here?" She shifted, uncomfortable. "You wanted us to . . . to bond?"

He gave a short laugh. "It's not my style to force myself on a woman, Cassie, and I sure wasn't too thrilled about being bonded to a woman who clearly hated my guts."

"Then why did you come?"

He sighed again. "Because I knew if I didn't, Vincent would, and that is a fate I wouldn't wish on any woman." He cleared his throat. "And then when I saw you, that day in the general store, well . . . let's just say that I wasn't in quite as big a hurry to leave after that."

She felt her face go warm, both from embarrassment at the way she'd treated him, and for the implied compliment. "I'm sorry," she whispered, looking into her own heart, and knowing that the way she'd let it harden had been her downfall. She'd wanted her own way, and done whatever she could to get it--the doorway she'd opened was getting wider by the second, and there was nothing but pain on the other side.

"It's okay," James murmured. "We'll get out of this somehow."

Maybe it was the quiet way he said it, but all the angry voices that had been in her head since she'd lost her home finally stilled, and Cassie accepted that James was not her enemy; he'd never been her enemy. The blood bond was there, between them, and because of that, and because she surprised herself by how much she wanted to, she shifted so that she faced him, leaned in, and kissed him herself, for the first time.

It was a slow kiss, a sweet kiss, but it didn't stay that way. Heat and friction, warm lips and moist tongues, sliding and gliding, blending into an all-consuming need that had her chafing at the bonds that kept her hands at her sides. He tasted of wind and rain, of summer thunderstorms and winter snows, of rushing rivers, swollen with spring melt. Desire crackled between them like lightning in the night sky, the pounding of her heart like thunder in her ears. By the time she pulled back, wishing she didn't have to, they were both breathing hard, her nipples aching against his chest.

"Now that's what I call inspiration," he muttered thickly, turning his head to bury his face in her hair. "You smell like flowers, and sunshine."

Flowers.

Cassie jerked, coming back to reality.

"Granny Jane," she hissed. "Granny Jane, are you here?" Eyes straining, she searched the dimness surrounding them.

James let his head fall back on the concrete, giving a sigh of resignation. "I wouldn't doubt it," he whispered. "That old lady just loves to see me tied up in knots."

A familiar chuckle answered him, coming from a dark corner of the garage. "I'm here, Cassie darlin'," Granny said, "but now is not the time to strike. Wait just a few more minutes, and let this thing play out. When the moment comes, you'll need to join forces. Don't hesitate, you hear?"

Whatever else Granny was about to say was interrupted by the opening of the door that led from the garage to the house.

"Rise and shine, brother," said Vincent, coming into the garage. "The show is about to start."

Chapter Five

CANDLELIGHT FLICKERED, ILLUMINATING the dimness of the garage. Vincent's girlfriend circled the room, placing and lighting more candles as she went.

"Hurry up, Annie," Vincent snapped. "It'll be dawn soon, and I don't want to wait until next Halloween to make the blood sacrifice."

James's heart sank. "You don't have to do this, Vince." He willed calm into his voice, hoping he could somehow reach his brother. "Dad would never condone anything like this."

"You would know, wouldn't you, Jamie boy?" Vincent moved to stand beside him, a sneer on his face and Cassie's grimoire in his hands. "You were always his favorite, weren't you? His precious, perfect favorite . . . the heir and the spare, that's what we were. You got his time, his attention, his training, and his house, while I"--James winced as Vincent's foot connected with his ribs--"I got nothing but lectures and restrictions. Don't set the cat on fire, Vincent," he mocked, "Leave your brother's pets alone." He walked around James's feet to stand over Cassie, who lay beside him, bound and helpless. "Here's one little pussy who's going to get a real stroking tonight."

"Vincent," whined Annie, having lit the last candle. "Me first . . . you promised."

"Did I?" Vincent's eyes glittered as he stared down at Cassie, and in that moment, James realized that what had once been mere anger and resentment had turned into madness. "I suppose I must keep that promise, then." He turned, holding out a hand toward Annie. "Come here, lover."

Annie smiled, coming toward him. She looked so young and foolish in the candlelight, with her black fright wig and her torn stockings; she should've been at a costume party with her friends, or handing out candy to trick-or-treaters. Instead, she was dabbling where she shouldn't, and James knew, in his heart of hearts, what it was about to cost her.

"Vincent--" James warned, low and urgent, but his brother ignored him, wrapping an arm around Annie's shoulders as she came to stand by his side.

"My sweet little Annie," Vincent crooned, pressing a kiss to the girl's neck. She bared it to him without a shred of hesitation, closing her eyes at the touch of his lips. Her hands came up to caress his chest, one of them brushing the grimoire.

"Ow," she said, eyes flying wide with surprise. "It's hot."

"Is it?" Vincent murmured, still nuzzling her neck. "Let me put it down, then." He led her to the center of the garage, kissing her lips before drawing away to place the grimoire on a nearby shelf, cluttered with tools. One of them was a narrow-bladed handsaw, about eight inches long, candlelight gleaming on the serrated edge as Vincent picked it up.

Beside him, Cassie, who'd been still as a stone, twitched to life, screaming, "Run, Annie, run!"

Annie turned her head, giving Cassie a look of contempt. "Shut up, bitch," she said. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Vincent laughed, low and evil, and came to stand before Annie, handsaw in his hand. "You tell her, sweetie," he said, and then stabbed her viciously in the stomach.

Annie doubled over, her face a study in shock as she clutched at his arm. "Baby, I--"

Vincent jerked the blade out, slicing Annie's hands in the process. She made a keening noise, staring down at the blood on her palms, and he stabbed her again, then shoved her, hard. She fell to the concrete floor, shrieking, as James writhed and twisted in his bonds, feeling helpless and sick.

Beside him, Cassie did the same, her breath coming fast, but the duct tape held. It was wound tightly all the way around their waists, pinning their wrists to their sides.

"What's the matter, Annie?" The violent nature of the stabbing had apparently not been enough to satisfy his cruel streak, for Vincent moved to stand over the girl as she shrieked and cried. "I thought you said you were willing to die for the cause," he mocked.

"Vincent!" James roared, desperate to stop him before he did the inevitable. "This is between you and me . . . leave her alone!"

The look Vincent shot him was lethal, as was the final stroke that ended Annie's life. Blood spurted across the concrete floor, as the girl gurgled and twitched, then lay still.

There was a silence within the garage, broken only by the fierce patter of rain on the tin roof, mirroring the angry thud of his own heart. Next to him, Cassie bit back an anguished moan, and he knew, without words being said, that she'd blame herself for this. His soul ached, both for her and for the girl.

As for Vincent, whatever remnants of familial emotions he'd once had toward his brother were gone, leaving cold, calculated rage in its place.

"Ahhhh." Vincent closed his eyes and let his shoulders slump, apparently savoring whatever twisted feelings he was enjoying at the moment. The blood-covered handsaw fell to the ground with a light clatter. Before it stopped moving, it slid sideways so quickly that it seemed all in one motion, and ended up right beside Cassie, who rolled on top of it without hesitation.

Thank you, Miz Calloway, James thought, having almost given up on the old woman's assistance.

"Poor Annie," Vincent murmured, looking down at what he'd wrought. "Poor, trusting little Annie." He straightened, throwing back his shoulders, and moved toward the shelf where the book of spells still lay. "Great deeds often require great sacrifice." He picked up the grimoire, leaving smears of blood on the leather cover. "In this case, the ultimate sacrifice was Annie's."

His tone was dreamy, his movements slow, as though he were in another world as he opened the spell book and began to flip through its pages. "With this," he murmured, "I'll be more powerful than you ever were, James . . . you and Dad put together. Weak, the pair of you. Too weak to see the true power at your fingertips." He didn't seem to notice when Cassie rolled closer to James, as though seeking comfort, and began to rub the blade of the handsaw awkwardly against the duct tape near his right wrist. "I saw the opportunities, the potential, and even though Dad denied me the training, denied me my birthright, he can't deny me this."

"Dad knew you were rotten to the core," James spat, too furious to be careful of his words. "That's why he denied you the training."

Vincent shrugged, unfazed by his brother's words. "C'est la vie," he said. "Such is life."

Cassie froze as Vincent lifted his head, looking directly at James.

"Enjoy what little of yours you have left, brother. Maybe I'll even let you watch me screw your girlfriend before I kill you both."

Then he moved toward Annie's body, the spell book open in his hand. He bent, dipping his finger in the ever-widening pool of blood that surrounded her, and began making a crude pentacle on the floor.

It took him some time, which Cassie put to good use, sawing frantically at the duct tape that bound James. She had only the fingers of one hand to do it with, and very little leverage, but she bit her lip and did her best. All the while Vincent seemed lost in a haze of concentration, candles flickering, the dead girl's eyes blank and staring at the ceiling.

James didn't dare say a word to Cassie, nor she to him, but words weren't needed. When the time came, and one hand was free, he'd go for his brother's throat, and devil take the consequences.

Vincent rose from his squat, surveying the pattern of blood that surrounded him on the floor. He stood in the very center of it, the grimoire still in his hand. "Look at you two lovebirds," he said, causing Cassie to freeze once again. "Holding hands like you're in grade school . . . how sweet." Making no move to come closer, he sneered at them from his place inside the pentacle. "Two stupid witches, and a human sacrifice." His grin was pure evil. "The Master is going to be so pleased."

Then he put down the book and held up his bloodstained hands, raising them toward the ceiling. He began to recite words that James had never heard, and would never, ever dare to repeat. Outside, a low rumble of thunder sounded, as though in protest of what was happening. Try as he might, James could not summon the lightning to his aid, and any hope it would be naturally drawn to the tin roof died as the thunder faded away into the distance.

Vincent closed his eyes, his voice getting louder and louder, and Cassie went to work with a vengeance. Just as James felt the duct tape begin to give, he heard a voice, but it was not the voice he hoped to hear.

"Why did you kill me, Vincent?" Annie's mouth was open, though her eyes were still blank with death. "I loved you."

Vincent gave a start, but refused to look at the girl's body, merely repeating the litany of words louder, over and over.

"It didn't have to be this way," the girl said, her voice tinny and distant. "We were so good together."

"You test me, O Master," Vincent shouted, ignoring the girl's body, and the words that came from her dead mouth. "I welcome it." He opened his arms wide, still staring at the ceiling. "See me! Hear me! I am your true servant, forever and always."

A final desperate cut on Cassie's part, and James was able to wriggle his right hand free. Putting his mouth close to Cassie's ear, he whispered, "Stay quiet, and don't draw attention to yourself." She nodded, and James hoped she'd do as he said, for he could sense her frustration, feel her rising worry. Unable to help himself, he pressed a quick kiss to her temple, well aware it might be the last time he ever touched her, and gathered his strength to rise and take on his brother.

"Wait," Cassie hissed, and jerked her head toward a dark corner of the room.

There, in the dimness, a swirl of smoke, almost indistinguishable, began to take shape.

Granny Jane Calloway, come to take back her book, unless he was much mistaken.

"Hear me, O Master," Vincent shouted again. "I offer you the life's blood of another, and the souls of these two misguided witches, that you may use all three of their life forces to increase the powers of darkness."

The candle closest to James went out, as did the one on the other side of Cassie.

"Cut me loose," she whispered urgently, pressing the saw blade into his hand.

He was torn, for time was precious, but when the third candle went out, he decided to risk it, for the idea of her bound and helpless under Vincent's power if something should happen to him was too much to bear.

CASSIE SIGHED WITH relief as James sliced through the duct tape, freeing one of her hands. Luckily, Vincent hadn't seemed to notice that the corner where he'd placed them was now in darkness, just as he hadn't noticed her granny, who had now fully materialized.

"What do you think you're doing, boy?"

Vincent whirled toward the unfamiliar voice, placing his back to Cassie and James. Hurriedly, the two of them peeled away the rest of the duct tape around their waists, freeing themselves completely.

"Murderers burn in Hell," Granny Jane said sharply to Vincent. "There's a special place for them there, right next to the wife beaters and the people who do bad things to children."

To Cassie's surprise, Vincent laughed. "You don't scare me, old woman. Nobody summoned you." He waved a bloodstained hand dismissively. "Begone."

James gained his feet, about to launch himself at his brother, but Cassie, remembering what her grandmother had said about joining forces, grabbed his hand.

"Begone yourself, you little turd," Granny retorted, "straight to Hell, where you belong."

A screeching noise began, right above their heads, as the edge of the tin roof began to peel away like a tin can. Wind and rain poured through the opening, dousing the candles, howling like a thousand souls in torment.

James looked at Cassie, and she looked at him, and together, they looked at their joined hands. Freed in spirit as well as in body, green met blue in a brilliant flash of turquoise energy that left them both gasping. Holding on to James's hand for all she was worth, Cassie closed her eyes and concentrated. At that moment, the limb of a giant oak tree came crashing through the opening in the roof, but instead of crushing them, it sliced sideways, tearing off the rest of the roof in an explosion of noise and fury.

James dragged her toward the door, away from the center of the garage, where Vincent stood, openmouthed, gaping at the storm that raged over his head. The moon, still high, revealed his face, shocked and disbelieving, in the instant before lightning struck.

The flash lasted only a second, but it was enough to knock Vincent violently backward, out of the center of the pentacle he'd so carefully drawn in Annie's blood. He hit the side of the tin shed, and when the lightning struck again, it found him there, in full contact with the metal.

Cowering against James's chest, surrounded by his sheltering arms, Cassie watched as Vincent twitched and jerked, turning her face away as the noxious smell of burnt flesh and hair came to her nose.

"Get on out of here," Granny shouted, above the rain. "Ain't nothing you can do for him."

James hesitated, looking at what was left of his brother, but Granny Jane Calloway was not to be denied. "Git!" she cried, "before this whole place comes down! I can't hold it together much longer."

And so they ran, hand in hand, out into the driving rainstorm. Behind them, creaking and groaning, the garage collapsed into itself, burying both Vincent and Annie beneath the rubble.

By the time they reached the house, not twenty yards away, the rain had stopped as suddenly as it began.

There, in the shadows of the front porch, Granny Jane was waiting for them, the bloodstained book of spells in her hand.

"I want you to burn this," she told Cassie, and let the book drop to the porch.

Gasping, crying despite her desire not to, Cassie clutched unconsciously at James as he put an arm around her shoulders. "No, Granny, I--"

"Don't you argue with me, girl," her grandmother said. The scent of lavender filled the air, sweet and soothing. "This book has served its purpose." Her ghostly figure began to fade, drawing back into the shadows. "It's time for you to write your own story, and stop clinging to mine."

"Miz Calloway," James called out. "Thank you, and I hope you find peace."

A ghostly chuckle answered him. "As long as you treat my granddaughter with the respect she deserves," the old woman answered. "Because if you don't, I'll come back and haunt you the rest of your born days."

Epilogue

SOMETHING SOFT TICKLED his nose, and James opened his eyes to see a sprig of purple flowers and a pair of green eyes, impish with mischief.

"Wake up, Daddy," Janie cried, giggling. "Mommy says dinner's ready."

He went from motionless to action in an instant, snatching the little girl up in his hands and holding her above his head as she squealed and kicked with laughter. "I'm not hungry for dinner," he mock growled, having never been asleep. "I'm hungry for toes!" Pretending to bite at hers, he made growly bear noises, loving the way his baby girl looked silhouetted against the blue vault of the sky, a perfect backdrop for her curly blond hair. As far as he was concerned, she was an angel, his Janie, sent from Heaven above.

"James!" his wife scolded, her gorgeously beautiful face framed in the open kitchen window, "put her down before she throws up on you."

"She can throw up on me all she likes," he called back, still nipping at Janie's bare toes. "It won't be the first time."

"You're silly, Daddy," the little girl said. "But I want to eat!"

"What's the hurry, darlin'?" He put her down reluctantly and sat up, tweaking her adorable little nose.

"We gots to hurry, Daddy," she said, giving him a very serious look. "It's getting dark, and Mommy says I can put on my costume as soon as I eat dinner." She jumped up and down impatiently as he rose to his feet. "It's Halloween, and I'm gonna be a witch!"

On his feet now, James bent and scooped up his little girl, carrying her toward the house. The spot where the garage once stood was now a field of lavender, rustling softly, as though touched by the gentlest of breezes.

"That's right, baby," he said, kissing her on the cheek.

"You're gonna be a witch."

Trick or Treathen

CARIS ROANE

Chapter One

MASTER VAMPIRE TREYNE, of Prescott Territory in Arizona, awoke way too early from his day's rest, a certain sign that something had gone wrong in his vampire commune.

He sat up and looked around. He extended his senses, something his master status had given him, an ability to feel what was happening elsewhere, even to know if another vampire or human was in his large suite of rooms. Had an outsider somehow gotten past his security and invaded his underground compound?

Yet his powerful hearing detected nothing, nor did the full scope of his senses detect another living creature in his suite. He was absolutely certain of both things.

So what the hell had awakened him?

Then, from a great distance, he caught a familiar scent, a woman's scent, very delicate like a wild rose. He groaned. Still sitting up, he put his head in his hands. Was he to be tormented forever by this human female?

From the time he had first met Jenna Shawe, she had become a thorn in his side. He craved her and he craved her blood. He had become so lustful in his need of her that he'd taken to escorting her home the nights she worked at her shop. He wanted her in his bed, his body moving over her in powerful thrusts, his fangs striking her neck, then taking strong pulls from her vein until he was satisfied.

He'd even felt a desire to form a Treathen bond with her, a human-vampire bond that would join them forever, so long as they lived. But the Treathen bond, named after the first known woman to bond herself to a vampire, was something Treyne disapproved of. He believed in the ancient traditions which had always forbidden deep connections with humans.

However, in the past few years, since the time that the vampire world had made itself known to the numerous human governments of Earth, more and more Treathen bonds had been formed. He had several human women now living in his underground commune and one human male, all bonded. He didn't approve, but apparently love had blossomed and the bonds had been forged.

He wasn't like many masters who had thrown the vampires out of their communes. Instead, he'd reluctantly agreed to honor the bonds, as much as he disliked the situation. His duty first and foremost was to his vampires.

Now here he was having his own longings and his first true understanding as to why his vampires would risk being shunned, rather than give up the love of a human. Yet what kind of example would he set for his servants if he made Jenna a permanent part of his life?

Of course right now he had a more immediate concern, as in what to do about her now that she'd come to his commune. The problem was, his body knew exactly what to do, having no doubts at all. In fact, unless he could somehow find the strength to turn her away from his gates, he fully intended to bring her into his suite and bed her at long last.

He slipped from bed. He could feel the hour. Just four in the afternoon, which meant the sun was still at a death angle to his sensitive skin.

He sighed. He knew why she'd come. She wanted him to help her find her sister, Britt, who had disappeared from the annual Halloween rave almost a year ago. Treyne didn't know for certain where Britt was, but he believed she was being held in Master Dagrith's commune, since she'd last been seen with Dagrith at the rave.

The problem for Treyne was simple. He was bound by the traditions and the laws of his world not to interfere with, or in any way betray, the decisions and actions of another master vampire. These laws had been in existence for a very long time and had sustained peace among thousands of volatile communes for centuries.

Even though he wanted to help Jenna, he couldn't.

He slid into his black leathers that laced up the front, then shrugged into his maroon silk shirt before combing his shoulder-length straight black hair.

He moved barefoot across his living room and entered a smaller room that housed his security setup. He tapped a few keys and brought up the front gate cameras, all well concealed from view.

And there she was, standing outside the gate, her gaze roving the tall black iron structure. What the hell was she doing? Was she actually looking for a way in?

She was very beautiful, with eyes nearly the color of amethysts. Her honey-blond hair trailed down her back in soft waves and curls. She was tall for a human at five-ten. Given that he was six-five, he knew she would fit him perfectly, and he'd imagined that fit a thousand times.

He trembled at the sight of her. Damn, his cravings burned like a brushfire through his veins. Her scent was stronger now, even at such a distance. And just like that, the Treathen bond emerged, like a swirl of mist around his body demanding that he do what he'd vowed never to do.

He took deep breaths and forced the bond back. At least this much he could do.

He peered closer at the screen. Sweet vampire gods, the woman had a gun in her hand. Jenna, an artisan by nature and by employment, had come armed? Did she actually think she could force him to betray his vampire world?

The part of him that was pure powerful vampire, with more ways to destroy vulnerable human flesh than she could imagine, took a moment to savor what he saw, and he actually smiled. Though he knew she'd trained at the local range over the past several months, she really didn't know what she was dealing with when it came to his kind.

He typed in the code to the gate, which would disable the lock and allow Jenna to enter the courtyard. With nightfall still a couple of hours away, his guards would be stationed well inside the front door.

He picked up his phone and called the guards. "I want the woman to enter, but I want all the guards out of sight until I've apprehended her. Do you understand?"

"Master, the woman is armed."

"Yes, I know. I have an interest in her." Understatement. "Let her pass. I will come to her."

"As you wish, master."

He set the phone back on its cradle. Though he knew Jenna wanted to find her sister, did she really think she could break into his compound?

He put on his black leather boots, then picked up his iPad and accessed the security feed. Once he was linked up, he headed into the hall, levitated, then flew up the long, sloped pathway that led to the front entrance.

Glancing occasionally at the iPad, he smiled as he watched Jenna's stealthy movements. She kept her knees bent as she walked through the courtyard, both hands supporting her weapon. He'd taken pains in building the entrance to his commune, using solid timbers and stonework so that the structure flowed into the boulder-laden hillside. Deep in the earth, his commune existed in miles of tunnels constructed within the mountainous terrain of Prescott.

He drew to a stop within the large foyer of the underground commune, to the left of the door. Looking at the iPad, he could see that Jenna was within a few yards of the double pair of massive front doors, just on the other side of the wall from him. She wore a long V-neck lavender sweater, dark blue jeans, and purple velvet flats. Not exactly SWAT-wear. She still held her gun in both hands.

He smiled. He liked that she was showing so much initiative, however misplaced. The woman didn't lack for courage and she was determined. Unfortunately, she wouldn't get what she wanted here.

Still, he meant to make the most of it.

He moved to the hallway, just out of sight, and set the iPad on a nearby shelf. He tapped the keyboard until he had a good view of the door. He watched it start to open.

Her scent was thick in his nose now and he was fully aroused. Welcome to vampire world.

JENNA PUSHED THE door open slowly. Tomorrow night the Halloween rave would take place and she meant to somehow persuade Treyne, at gunpoint if necessary, to help her get her sister back. She also knew that just about every vampire in the Prescott area would be attending the annual event, including the aggressive vampires from the Bradshaw commune, led by Master Dagrith.

She had finally decided to take matters into her own hands. She was convinced Treyne knew where her sister was, though his oath to secrecy about his vampire world prevented him from telling her the truth. He was a real stickler about rules, laws, and not offending his fellow vampires. Never mind that her sister was gone, taken from the Halloween rave last year and probably forced to complete a Treathen bond.

Britt had made a habit of attending the local weekly vampire raves every Friday night, "donating," as she called it, to the undead so that the poor creatures might get to keep on living.

Then she was just gone.

And so far, Treyne had refused to help her locate her sister.

But she'd made a connection with Treyne and he'd taken to visiting her stained glass shop often, especially last thing at night, watching her work her glass and solder the lead. Then he would see her home, flying swiftly near her car, as though protecting her.

That she allowed him to come home with her, often, was the greater mystery, since on principle, she disapproved of vampire-human relationships.

She knew he desired her. She had been with enough men to recognize that particular look, full of hunger, longing, but with a certain predatory feel that tended to fire up her own lust.

She desired him as well, something that frustrated her because she didn't want to feel that way about a vampire. He'd even confronted her about her desire a month ago, having leaned over her while she sat on her couch, his body a cage around her. He had whispered his encouragement into her ear, saying, "Let me fulfill you, Jenna. Let me ease your hunger, your suffering. I have many skills. Many."

She had almost given in. She hadn't been with a man for three years, not since she'd broken up with her last boyfriend because he couldn't keep away from other women.

Could Treyne?

She laughed just thinking about it. What did vampires know of love and commitment, of duty and responsibility, of family?

As she pushed the door open a little wider, she stared at a fine wood floor, grooved and pegged, and a massive round table in the center on which stood a tall, abstract wood sculpture, at least seven feet high.

The sculpture drew her gaze to the cavern ceiling. She was astonished because she could see that a skilled artisan had chiseled parallel grooves the entire length and width of the large entrance space, which exposed facets of various minerals. The ceiling alone was a work of art.

She felt certain, from the many things that Treyne had shared with her over the past eleven months, that the architecture and the choice of decor belonged to him. Her heart sank a little. She had come to challenge him, to force him to help her get Britt back. And now all she could think was that she had never really appreciated him before.

She looked around. The place appeared to be deserted, just as she thought it would be since all the vampires were asleep and wouldn't rise until full dark.

No one had seen her enter. If she thought the sudden disabling of the security system suspicious, well, she had her Glock for that.

She moved forward a few steps. She closed the door, and the next moment, a vampire blurred toward her with incredible speed. Before she could even think to raise her weapon, he took her gun, then pinned her against the adjacent wall.

"Treyne," she cried. His body was pressed up against her and he was in an aroused state because she could feel the hardness of him against her abdomen.

So much for a surprise attack by daylight. "Why aren't you still asleep?"

"Apparently, you don't know my habits very well. And you came armed." He held the gun up to her, then dropped it to the floor.

She felt faint. What had she been thinking? Clearly, her desperation to find Britt had made her foolish.

He leaned close and sniffed the entire length of her cheek, then her ear. He groaned. He drew back and met her gaze. "You shouldn't be here, Jenna." He ground his hips into her.

So like a vampire, all sexed up just because he had a victim close at hand.

But damn, the vampire was handsome. His eyes were an exquisite blue-green surrounded by thick black lashes. He wore his hair long to his shoulders and it was a fine look on him. His features were strong with sharp angles, his brows a pair of slashes above his eyes that suited his face. He could have been a model.

He smelled wonderful too, like a mesquite wood fire. And as he leaned close and once more kissed her ear and cheek, now her jawline, her mind grew very loose. All her energy became focused not on forcing Treyne to do anything, but on the feel of his lips as he suckled just below her ear.

She wanted to tell him to stop, but the words wouldn't come.

He moaned softly as his lips descended to a place just above her vein.

A strange sensation came over her as he suckled hard on her throat. Desire rippled down her body in heavy waves. Even as opposed as she was to anyone serving vampire needs, she wanted him to use his fangs. She wanted to tell him to do it right now.

His hand slid over her left breast, kneading through her sweater until her lips parted and soft pants left her mouth. He had held her pinned to the wall for less than a minute and she was already lost.

But then she'd been lost for months. She realized that now. She'd tried to curtail his visits in the evening, at least at first. But soon she'd grown dependent on seeing him and speaking with him. That's what made things so difficult. Treyne had made an effort to get to know her. How many times had she fallen into conversation with him, the hours passing like minutes.

Worse, though, was how many times she'd awakened from dreams of making love with him, her body in agony.

Now she was here.

She glanced toward the door. Coming here was a big mistake. She should leave. Yes, she should definitely leave.

She pushed at him. "Let me go, Treyne. I'm sorry I came."

"You can't leave now. I won't let you. Do you know how long I've wanted you like this?"

His lips traveled from her throat, over her chin and found her lips.

She stopped pushing at him and instead her hands drifted to his back, embracing him, savoring the feel of so much man, even if he was a vampire. His muscles rippled beneath her fingertips as her hands glided over the silk of his shirt. What would it be like to have her skin against his skin?

TREYNE SLID HIS tongue over her lips back and forth, dipping into them until her lips parted. He drove inside her mouth, his body tensing and arching over hers. He cupped the back of her neck, pinning her and kissing her deep until she was moaning against his mouth.

He drew back, breathing hard. "Say you'll come with me to my rooms. Please, Jenna. I've wanted you such a long time."

She shook her head, but her lips were swollen and her eyes had a dazed look.

He smiled and kissed her again. He slipped his hand from the back of her neck and drifted his fingers slowly down her spine, pressing harder once he reached her jeans, but moving lower to caress her bottom, one cheek, then the next. He plunged his tongue continuously in and out of her mouth, helping her to understand what he wanted to do to her.

As he continued to caress her low, he drew back enough to say to her. "I want my tongue between your legs."

He heard the small cry as he once more shoved his tongue into her mouth. This time he drove fast, rocking his pelvis against her in a strong rhythm as he countered with his hand still stroking her from behind.

He felt her body grow lax beneath his.

"Say you'll come. I want you to come. I want to pleasure you, Jenna. Please say yes." Her rich floral scent teased his nostrils and hardened his cock even more.

He waited, kissing her cheek and the sides of her mouth, while he continued the rocking motion low, the invitation to sex.

The air felt charged all around him as though time had drawn to a standstill, the entire Earth waiting to hear her answer.

Finally. "Yes. Oh God, yes."

That was all he needed. He dipped low, caught her behind her knees, then lifted her into his arms. "Hold on," he said. "We're going to fly."

She put her arms around his neck. He held her tight as he flew at a blinding speed down the sloped pathway. He called to his guards to lock down the commune. He extended his hearing so that even at such a distance he was able to hear the gate shut and the front door lock.

Down he flew, deep into his cavern, levitating and flying until he reached his private suite. Once inside, he grew still but didn't let her go. She would need to adjust a little after the flight.

After a moment, he put her on her feet, and when she was steady, he moved to the door and bolted it shut. He didn't want anyone or anything to disturb what he had waited so long to possess.

He turned. She stared at him unblinking. He tried to discern what he felt now that she was here, in his home, in his bedroom. But all that came to him was his desperate need to bed her and his terrible craving for her blood.

By all the vampire gods, how he longed for her blood, yet in that he would restrain himself. Sex first, then maybe he could persuade her to provide him with nourishment.

Maybe.

He lowered his chin and drew close, but she took a step backward, her eyes wide. Her mouth worked as though she wanted to say something, and God help him if she refused him now. But the smell of her sex permeated the air, so he thought he understood: She was frightened, but she wanted to be here.

"Stay with me," he murmured, pulling her against him.

Another cry left her throat as she flung her arms around his neck. He slanted his lips over hers and kissed her again. He wanted to devour her as he thrust his tongue heavily into her mouth. Her hands once more were on his back, her fingers digging into his muscles.

When he drew back this time, her eyes glistened with tears. "I've wanted you," she whispered, "so much. But I'm afraid."

He petted her face with his hand. "I won't hurt you."

"I'm not afraid that you'll hurt me, Treyne. I'm afraid that I won't want to leave."

"You'll always be able to leave, even now, this minute, but I'm begging you to stay. Please stay. I need you. I've needed you for months, since you first confronted me about your sister. But will you believe me when I say I don't have her? That I never met her or knew her? That none of my commune took her?"

She nodded and touched his face, thumbing his lips. "I know that. I've known it almost from the first." Tears slipped from her eyes. "But you do know where she is."

"I have a strong suspicion but I'm bound by my laws to reveal nothing to you. Can you forgive me for that?"

He stared into her eyes, begging silently for her to understand and to forgive. He needed her so much right now. Could she forgive him?

Finally, she nodded. "Our worlds are very different." She released a heavy sigh. "But right now, I want to be with you."

He kissed her again, then released her. He unbuttoned her jeans and helped her take them off. Then her black lace thong. She lifted her sweater over her head, then removed her bra. He stroked her arms and looked at her. His breathing came in stiff gulps.

He meant to take his clothes off as well, but the sight of her full breasts, pink areolas, and peaked nipples drew his gaze to her chest. He dipped, then took her left breast in his mouth and suckled.

Her fingers slid into his hair, her body pushing against his mouth. He pulled back. "You're a feast and I don't know where to begin."

"At least take your shirt off, Treyne. I've wanted to see you like this. You have a beautiful silhouette, and I never told you this, but I loved to see you walk. Sometimes I would move from room to room in my house and make you precede me just to watch you."

"You did?"

She nodded.

"And all that time, I thought you were afraid I'd do something to you so you made me go before you."

"I wasn't afraid. I trusted you. I do even now."

Every word she spoke worked him up. He unbuttoned his shirt slowly. He knew how his body affected women and he wanted Jenna affected. He wanted her thinking about him just like this for days to come.

He removed his shirt, flexing his biceps, his pecs, his abs, then let it fall to the stone floor.

Her lips parted and her gaze roved his body. Her breathing quickened. He waited for her to take her fill.

Finally she moved toward him, her fingers reaching for the laces of his leathers. She untied the tight bow, then drifted her fingers down either side of his erection.

His hips flexed. She tugged the top part of the laces apart, then dropped to her knees. She leaned over and took his crown in her mouth. He arched into her as she sucked, a very light suck that had him groaning again.

Somehow he knew it would be this way between them, a pleasing back-and-forth, her touch just right, the pulls of her mouth on him exactly as he liked it. Kissing her had been like this, her mouth pliable and responsive as it was now.

She drew back and worked the laces some more. Each tug made him harder. The sight of her head bowed as it was made his breathing shallow. It wouldn't take much to come but he didn't want to hurry this unexpected bounty.

With the laces loosened, she tugged on the sides of his pants, pulling them low over his thighs. Her fingers glided through his trimmed pubic hair and over his abdomen as once more her mouth moved in the direction of his cock.

It was almost too much when she engulfed him and with a combination of a rippling tongue and soft suck she pulled at him.

The groan that left his chest this time was hoarse and heavy with desire.

But when her hands slid around to his buttocks and she squeezed, he almost lost it. "Jenna, stop."

She slowly pulled away from his cock.

He lifted her to her feet but closed his eyes, forcing himself to settle-the-hell-down.

"By all the vampire gods, Jenna."

She met his gaze. "I've been on my knees, but I'm as achy as if you've been inside me."

After removing his boots and leathers, he slid his arm around her waist and turned her in the direction of his bed. She walked slowly. He did as well. They were two cauldrons and so needy from a year of foreplay.

He pulled the rumpled covers back all the way to the footboard. She climbed onto the bed, which caused him to reach for her hips to keep her on all fours. "Stay just like that. Let me tend to you just like that but move forward a couple of feet."

She crawled a little more. He trembled as he watched her, his need overwhelming him. She was bare and her lower flesh was swollen and glistening. His mouth watered as he moved into her.

He grabbed her thighs and squeezed as he set his tongue on her, lapping at her from behind, from the front of her clitoris, then dragging over all her sensitive erotic flesh to find his way inside. He drove his tongue into her.

She cried out, her hips rocking. He stroked her buttocks and played with her, his fingers helping his tongue.

"Treyne," she called to him. "I need you. Now."

He rose up over her and turned her to lie on her back. "Like this?"

She nodded. "Yes, please." She was panting, her body writhing. She spread her legs and he settled himself between.

Her throat was exposed, and once more his mouth watered. He felt his fangs ready to descend and strike but he forced them away.

She reached low and guided him to her opening. He pushed in and she released another cry. Her rose scent made him dizzy as he worked himself inside her.

"I've needed you for so long," he said.

"Me too. Treyne, you feel so good."

He nodded, shifting his gaze away from her throat. He was blood-starved but he wouldn't take her without her permission, sex would have to be enough. And all her wetness gliding over his cock; heaven. He thrust harder now.

"What is that sensation?" she asked suddenly.

"What do mean?" Then he felt it like a cloak of mist surrounding him and ready to cover her as well. He knew the source: the Treathen bond.

He stopped his movements and squeezed his eyes shut.

"It's the bond, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"I don't want to do this. I don't want to be bound to you."

He opened his eyes and saw how panicky she looked. "I promise I won't bind you. I don't want it either. This was just a result of my hunger for you." He remained still until he forced the strange, mistlike cloak away.

He drew a deep breath and met her gaze once more. "Are you okay?"

She had her hands on his shoulders and kneaded his muscles. "Yes."

He lowered himself to her, supported on his forearms. "Jenna, you don't need to worry. I would never force the bond on you. I just lost control for a moment."

"Okay."

She still seemed upset. "What is it?" he asked.

She chuckled softly. "This is so different. You're so tender with me and I almost feel like--"

He kissed her again. "Like what?"

"I'm overwhelmed. I've never experienced anything like this before." Her hands drifted over his back. "You fill me."

He thought he understood. He was a big man. He ground into her, then slowly pulled back. When a small gasp left her throat, he moved faster. "I told you once that I had many skills, let me show you one of them now."

Her eyes widened.

He began to thrust faster, vampire fast, so that he was whipping in and out of her.

As she moaned, she murmured, "My God, that sensation of speed."

He was breathing hard now and the faster he drove, the tighter she fisted around his cock. "Jenna," he groaned.

Small cries left her throat now, one after the other. She was so beautiful caught as she was by the pleasure building between them. Her head rolled back and forth and his balls tightened. "Are you close?"

"God, yes."

"Want more?"

"Yes." She moaned heavily. "So this is what it's like to be with a vampire."

He smiled. "Hold on." Then he gave her the real treat and moved at lightning speed.

"Oh. My. God." She tugged on his shoulders and arms, then screamed at the ceiling as the climax took her over the edge.

At the same time, Treyne started to come, pleasure flowing first in an intense heavy wave over his entire body, then in powerful streaks through his cock. He shouted and ground his hips into her, savoring each thrust even to the last pulse. With his final release, he eased down onto her.

She settled back against the sheets, smiling. She was so beautiful with her breathing labored and a sheen of perspiration over her brow. Still buried inside her, he caressed her cheek with his hand.

"That was unbelievable," she said.

As he nodded his chest grew tight. He had wanted this for so long, but he knew now that he'd been under an illusion. For some reason, he'd believed that his pursuit of Jenna had been about this, about getting her into his bed. Yet what he felt right now was a profound need to keep her with him forever. How was that just about sex?

She smiled and turned to kiss his arm. "This was all unexpected."

He frowned slightly and shook his head back and forth. "Jenna, I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"I can't do this."

"Do what?"

The next moment he pulled out of her and rolled onto his back, shading his face with his arm. Oh God, how to explain. This was too much, all of it was too much.

"What's wrong?" She shoved at his elbow.

He glanced at her but couldn't find the words.

"Talk to me," she said. "We just had some amazing sex and now you actually look mad."

He sat up and shifted to sit on the side of the bed.

"Yes, I'm mad. Pissed as hell."

Chapter Two

A FEW MINUTES later, Jenna watched Treyne pace back and forth, then turn and grab his clothes off the floor. She knew he was angry but she didn't get it. He'd just made love to her and now he was shoving his legs into his pants like he was trying to punish the leather.

"Why on earth are you so mad?" she asked. "Because I said you were amazing?"

Standing near the foot of the bed, he turned to glare at her. Again. "Why do you have to be so beautiful and have the scent of wild roses so that now my bedroom smells like a flower shop? This is maddening. Don't you get that? You're human. Your ways aren't my ways. You don't belong here. I don't want you here." He laced up his pants, then shrugged into his maroon shirt.

"Hey, this was your idea to bring me down into your cavern, remember? You had me against the wall and worked your wiles on me until I said yes. But if you think I want to stay, you're crazy. And if anyone should be mad, it's me. I never wanted to get this close to a vampire and now I just had sex with one." She huffed a sigh. "Treyne, this doesn't have to be difficult. It's simple, really. We just shouldn't see each other again, that's all."

"So you think this is simple?" He started buttoning his shirt.

"Yes. I do. We slept together and satisfied some lust and maybe even a little curiosity. But we don't have to do this again."

"Right." But the word came out slow. He drew close. "What do you smell right now?" he asked, leaning over her, his fists planted on the bed.

Jenna blinked up at him. She didn't want to tell him the truth, but somehow she knew honesty was important, not for his sake but for hers. "A mesquite smoky aroma, like an open campfire. It's wonderful."

He squeezed his eyes shut, then blew the air from his cheeks. "Fuck" came out of his mouth.

"What's wrong? I mean what does it matter that I catch the aroma of smoke when I'm around you."

"Don't you get it?"

She shook her head, but she looked away from him. She'd met several vampires before but she'd never smelled them. If anything, vampires had a kind of sterile quality, but not Treyne.

"I just thought it was you," she said. She finally shifted her gaze back to him. "Are you saying this means something?"

He nodded. "It's an invitation to the Treathen bond. I've asked the couples who chose to complete the bond and they've all said that the sense of smell becomes heightened between them."

Jenna pulled the sheet tight to her chest. "I think you're worrying too much about this. We're both against the bond."

He drew back. "At least we're agreed on that."

"We are."

"Good, but there's something I want you to see that will probably help strengthen your resolve. I want you to accompany me to my judicial chamber."

Jenna was surprised. "What's a judicial chamber?"

"Where I preside most of my fucking night."

"Again, Treyne, you don't need to be so freakishly pissed off."

TREYNE HAD NO idea how to explain himself to Jenna, especially since the reasons for his general ire were not things he wanted to talk about. He'd just had the woman he'd been wanting for months now, but instead of being satisfied, all he could think about was how he wanted to do it all over again. And again. So, yeah, he was pissed.

And it really didn't help that she looked so beautiful with her curls dangling over her arms and down her naked back and with his silk sheet just covering her breasts. Her creamy shoulders and swan's neck were on display as she watched him from her luminous violet eyes. She had a way of staring at him from deep within her soul.

He felt damn naked in front of the woman, the human.

And that was the other thing. He was feeling too much right now for a female that was not his species, an entire spectrum of sensation that actually made him want to complete the Treathen bond with her.

Which he would never do, not in a million years, despite the fact that right now his body was screaming at him to do it. He believed the species should live separate lives, that there were just too many dangers inherent in vampires interacting so closely with humans.

He started to pace again. He wished he didn't like her as much as he did. He'd even spent time getting to know her in hopes of diminishing his interest. Instead, the more he'd learned, the more he'd come to admire her.

She owned her own Victorian home not far from Courthouse Square, she had a degree in art history from Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff, and her parents had died three years ago, leaving her orphaned along with her sister, Britt. He understood her situation. With no family left, it was no wonder she was taking risks to get her sister back.

She had her own business on Whiskey Row, selling her handcrafted stained-glass creations in all shapes, colors, and sizes. Her work was meticulous, and over the past few months he'd bought several pieces, although never when she was around and always through an intermediary. He didn't want her to know how much she moved him. Nor could he help himself since the glass, worked by her own hands, had been imprinted with her delicate rose scent.

But maybe the hardest thing of all was that he could talk to her about anything under the moon.

And that was why he was so angry.

As he tucked his shirt into his pants, he glanced at Jenna and couldn't help but wonder what the Treathen bond with her would be like. Demanding, for one thing, he supposed. Jenna had a stubborn streak, something that no doubt had made her successful in her business. She could be a dog with a bone.

"Setting aside your aggravation," she said, "could you at least tell me where Dagrith's commune is? I mean, I know it's deep in the forest."

Speaking of bones. "You've got to be kidding."

"No, I'm not."

"Jenna, you're going to have to let it go. For you to pursue him would put you in serious danger. A master vampire can forge bonds with several women at once. And Dagrith wouldn't hesitate. He's a killer, maybe even a sadist."

She leaned forward. "A sadist? You mean Dagrith has brutalized my sister, maybe even tortured her?"

He sighed. "I have no way of knowing. I shared my opinion hoping you'd understand what you'd be dealing with in trying to confront Dagrith. The vampire has no conscience. He's powerful like me, but he will hurt you if you challenge him."

She shifted her gaze to her hands now clasped in front of her. The bunched-up sheet at her chest unfurled a little. She sighed heavily. "I have to find her," she said softly. "I know you don't understand, because you don't know what it is to have a family or people you care about. But she's my sister."

He was appalled at her take on his character. Was this what she believed, that he didn't care about anyone, that he was incapable of having close ties?

Maybe it was for the best that she view him in this light. Still, he couldn't bear the thought of her confronting Dagrith.

"Let me say this another way: Dagrith will kill you if you challenge him in his territory or in any vampire territory."

"Then help me. If one of your kind has done something bad to Britt, then aren't you obligated to make amends?"

"That's not the way our world works. We live peacefully, commune to commune, because each organized group of vampires respects the autonomy of all others. I don't interfere in Dagrith's commune and he stays away from mine."

"Would you get involved if he enslaved one of your vampires? One of your commune?"

"If the act was done deliberately and against the vampire's will, yes."

"Then tell me this, if one of your vampires got into trouble in my world, wouldn't you come to his or her aid?"

He shook his head. "The laws that your government established in connection to our world would prevent me, and I must obey those laws. By the same token, if you commit a crime in my territory, your government can't intervene in the ways that I would mete out punishment. I respect all these boundaries. I have to. We would have chaos otherwise."

"But you truly believe that Dagrith has enslaved my sister."

"That is my belief based on his known character, on his prior treatment of women. But I have never seen your sister with him. If he has her, he's taken her deep into his commune."

He watched her eyes fill with tears. "She could be dead."

He remained silent.

She covered her face with her hands. "Oh God."

Treyne wanted to go to her, to comfort her, but he began to realize how wrong he'd been in pursuing Jenna all these months. The divide between their worlds was too big, and neither wanted a real relationship, despite how great the sex had been.

He was right about one thing, though. He wanted Jenna to see his world very clearly. A strong view of vampire attitudes and problems would help solidify her resolve to stay away from him, and with any luck, it might keep her from doing something foolish where Dagrith was concerned.

"Please get dressed, Jenna," he said softly. "If you come with me to my judicial chamber, I think you'll get a better picture of what you're dealing with. Okay?"

She looked up at him and, using the sheet, dried her face. She nodded.

He waved to his right. "The bathroom is there. You will find all that you need. Please be ready in an hour. I'll want to arrange a few things. I'll have food sent to you as well."

When he reached the door, she thought she heard him mutter, "And I think I'd better get a leash."

"What?" she called out after him. But he was already levitating up the sloped pathway.

A LEASH? JENNA couldn't have heard him right.

Did Treyne have a dog? She didn't think vampires had pets, other than humans.

She stayed on the bed for a long moment, her knees pulled up to her chest, hands still clasped together. She couldn't believe that she'd just had sex, amazing sex, with Treyne. She had never been so aroused or so satisfied in her entire life.

But she also couldn't believe how prickly he'd grown afterward, as though somehow making love to her had fired up his temper. And was it true that because he held a unique scent for her, that she was somehow vulnerable to the Treathen bond?

She was discouraged as well. Treyne had always been unwilling to talk much about his world. Certainly he'd never told her this much about Dagrith. Nor had he made mention of a judicial chamber.

She debated whether she should just leave. The situation that had begun with her absurd attempt to rescue her sister had devolved into mind-blowing sex, and now, for reasons of his own, Treyne wanted her to watch his world in action.

Great, just great. The last thing she wanted.

She slid off the bed, picked up her clothes, and headed to the bathroom. When she was cleaned up and feeling better, she found a tray of food waiting for her along with a pot of steaming coffee.

She sat at the table near the door and devoured the meal. Sex with a vampire had made her hungry.

When she was done, she started pacing the room in much the same way Treyne had before. When he didn't return, she made the bed and rinsed out her dishes.

She was just about to leave his suite when he returned carrying something that looked like a black spiked collar that had BDSM written all over it.

He also carried a leash.

She raised her hand and pointed. "What the hell is that?"

"Exactly what it looks like."

"All right, I'm leaving, Treyne. You've just weirded me out."

He shut the door, not by the use of his hand or his foot, but by his vampire kinetic ability.

Oh shit.

He moved toward her. "You'll wear this and you'll like it. An unbonded human, especially a female, would not be safe in my commune. Taking you into my judicial chambers, with an appearance that you belong to me, will hold back the bloodlust among the vampires present. This is the only way."

"Look, Treyne, it was your idea that I join you in this judge thing you've got going on, but maybe I should just head home."

"Please," he said. "I need you to do this for me, Jenna. It's not a small thing I'm asking. And this is as much for your sake as mine. I promise you that it will help end the temptation of the Treathen bond between us."

Suddenly, he listed on his feet and reached for the table to keep from falling over.

She took a step toward him. "What's wrong? Is it the bond?"

He tossed the collar and leash on the table and laughed harshly. "No, it's not the bond. But it doesn't matter. I'll be fine."

He staggered again.

"But what's wrong with you? Why are you so weak right now that you're even having trouble standing?"

His face suddenly flushed with color as he fisted his hands at his sides. "Because of you, I'm fucking blood-starved, Jenna, and I have been for the past year since I met you." He advanced on her. "I can smell your blood because it calls to me, and it took all the power in my possession earlier not to sink my fangs into you while we had sex."

She put her hand to her throat. "Are you saying you've stopped taking blood? But you need it to live."

That harsh laughter returned. "I take only a bare minimum to survive, hating every second of it because what I crave is you."

She lifted her chin. "Well, you can't have my blood. I mean I know that many humans feed vampires and do it willingly, but I'm completely opposed to the exchange."

"It's not as heinous as you think. It's natural for us. At times, especially with someone you care about, even beautiful."

She was silent for a moment, then drew a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I spoke without thinking, but if you're not taking from me, then who do you drink from?"

"I have several humans who offer nourishment, who come here to the commune by appointment."

Jenna might have been opposed to the collar and the leash, but everything he'd just said had made her more willing to do as he wished. "I'm sorry that you're blood-starved on my account."

She stood up and crossed to the table. She unbuckled the collar and with a roll of her eyes, put it around her neck.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

He attached the leash and led her from his rooms down a very long, winding path to his judicial chamber.

Once in the vast underground cavern, through which a stream flowed, Jenna kept close to Treyne and he in turn kept a tight hold on the leash.

She had never seen so many vampires in one place, scattered around, standing on boulders, a few sitting in chairs on more level areas. The air in the vast underground room vibrated with aggression.

Treyne led her up a set of stairs carved from stone to a raised section of rock. He sat down on a wide bench but leaned close and said quietly, "You must remain standing."

She nodded, repressing the urge to say something sarcastic about the equality of the sexes or at least the species. Looking down, she realized there had to be at least three hundred vampires in the room along with just a handful of humans.

Treyne gestured with a sweep of his hand in the direction of a small vampire down to his left. "Aaron, you may read the first complaint."

Names were called out and two muscular vampires moved into a central clearing below, but from different directions.

Jenna could feel an electrical current run through the space, like the air before a thunderstorm.

Aaron read the complaint, something about a territorial dispute at the rave building. One of the vampires said he had charge of the facility during the Halloween rave, the other insisting he'd been promised the job months ago.

The former called out, "It is rumored that Dagrith and his vampires mean to attend the rave. You will want your most powerful man in charge."

So Dagrith would be attending.

She glanced at Treyne. He appeared somber as he shifted his gaze back and forth between the two vampires. "Hand-to-hand," he called out in a strong voice that echoed through the vast cavern. Lights were strung around the perimeter. A world at night and of dark most of the time, except for these small bulbs.

The vampires moved away from each other and began to strip, leaving only black leather pants on. They were even barefoot.

Treyne rose to watch.

She could feel his excitement. She glanced around at all the other vampires and saw that settling a dispute like this provided pleasure for the entire commune.

The vampires circled each other and fangs made an appearance. When they lunged at each other, Jenna put a hand to her mouth. What followed was violent, as the men used their fangs and hands and tore at each other, punching and kicking.

The men were strong and both had speed so that after a time, Jenna grew dizzy watching the quick, almost blurred movements. Every once in a while one head or the other would strike stone, but apparently vampire bone had greater density and strength than human. Neither seemed much fazed.

In the end, one of the vampires grew slower and weaker until the victor pinned him on the ground, a knee pressed into his chest. The loser patted the ground next to him three times.

The winner leaped off him and jumped around, his white body covered in sweat and blood. He even looked up at Jenna and flashed his fangs, hissing.

Treyne's deep voice boomed as he called out, "Enough of that, or do you want to battle me?"

"Forgive me, master." He looked away from Jenna.

"You will have charge of the Halloween rave tomorrow night."

The victor gave a shout, then ran from the cavern. At the last second, he grabbed the hand of a female vampire and tugged her down one of the hallways. She went willingly.

Jenna was left with a sense she really had stepped into a different world.

Okay.

"Aaron, the next, please."

A tall vampire, very lean, came forward with a human woman who had short brown hair and bruising all over her neck. She clung to her partner. Jenna looked from one to the other and she could see a beautiful, almost misty covering between them. She knew exactly what it was. The Treathen bond.

For some reason, tears rushed to her eyes at the sight of the love that flowed between them in almost endless waves of caring and devotion. She was stunned. She thought of what Treyne had said earlier, how the sharing of blood could be beautiful. So, apparently, was the Treathen bond.

But what had brought this couple to the judicial chamber?

Treyne called out. "Bring the offender forward."

From the right, she saw movement and watched as a vampire, bound from behind, was pushed into the clearing.

The woman buried her face into her vampire's shoulder. He held her tighter, his lips in a grim line. Neither looked at the other vampire.

The complaint was read. The woman had been alone in the halls of the commune and the offender had found her, lost control, and savaged her neck, taking her blood. He hadn't raped her, but Jenna had the sense that in this community, taking the blood of someone unwilling was forbidden.

Arguments were made by the offender's representative that the woman shouldn't have been walking around without an escort, that she knew the needs of the commune's vampires, that she brought the blood taking on herself by being unprotected.

Jenna was appalled and now saw that the woman was weeping.

She glanced at Treyne, who drew a deep breath. "The Treathen bonds have made our community more complex but the law is very simple. We respect the rights of others, and even I can see that you hurt this woman."

The offender was furious. "She's just a human. She has no rights here."

Jenna could see that the offender had many supporters. When Treyne spoke of not wanting the bond in his own life, she could see how complicated it would make his rule within the commune if he actually engaged the bond himself.

"I have heard the arguments. You are in the wrong, Bartren. You will endure five minutes of sunlight, as the ancients have proclaimed, for the violation of fellow residents."

Bartren shouted at Treyne as did many others, but Treyne remained firm. "The law has been established for centuries. You will not be in mortal danger and will recover from your wounds afterwards. But I will not have unlawfulness in our community." The last few words were shouted, carrying a strange wavering tone that Jenna had never heard before. More vampire powers.

The effect was stunning, since all the vampires below bowed their heads. She turned to look at Treyne. This certainly wasn't a democracy. She could also feel his level of power and knew instinctively that no other vampire present could challenge him. Only another master. Like Dagrith.

She could also see that a master's character was critical to a just and compassionate rule of communal life.

Several of the vampires left in quiet protest at this point but Treyne made no objection.

The bonded couple left as well.

Treyne then gestured to Aaron, asking him to bring the next case forward. But Aaron smiled and said, "A blessing is requested for the baby Jenieve."

Treyne rose. "A blessing? Tonight? I didn't know."

He was actually smiling as he moved back down the steps, leash in hand. Jenna followed after him quickly.

By the time she reached the clearing with Treyne,, a human woman and her bonded vampire arrived with a baby in her arms. The Treathen mist swirled in a soft glow around them. Jenna knew that children were rare among long-lived vampires of any commune, but here was a child, half vampire and half human, apparently even more rare.

The vampire leaned down and kissed his woman. She smiled up at him, her large dark eyes glittering with happiness.

Treyne drew close and took the baby in his arms.

"So beautiful," Jenna murmured.

He smiled and rocked the infant. The words he spoke swelled Jenna's heart. "We are blessed as a commune to hold this precious life in our keeping. The young, so rare among us, are given this night to the community for training and protection." He glanced out at the vampires. Many had drawn close. "Will you succor this child?"

A resounding "We will" rose high into the air from everyone present.

Jenna was moved as Treyne leaned down and kissed the small forehead. The infant squirmed, then settled back into her slumbers. He gave the baby back to her parents. He put a hand on each shoulder, "May the vampire gods protect what has been given to you. Go, and be well as a family."

Jenna recalled her harsh words to him, that he knew nothing of family. She realized that all these vampires had once had parents. But she thought it sad that most would never birth children. Something in the genetics made it difficult to conceive.

The parents turned away from Treyne and received the well-wishes of the commune.

Two hours later, after more complaints were read and judgment dispensed, Jenna was sobered but not in the way that Treyne had thought she might be. He had believed that she would be put off by what she found here tonight. Instead, she understood Treyne so much better, as well as the world in which he lived and ruled.

What really troubled her was that she had come away from the experience admiring him more than ever, even wondering what would happen if she were to forge a Treathen bond with him.

TREYNE MOVED CAREFULLY down the stone stairs. Most of the vampires were also leaving the cavern, so he wasn't too worried about being observed in his weakened state.

Shit, he needed blood. Even his vision was paring down. How long had it been? Or had Jenna's presence added a layer to his need, robbing him of his strength?

He had no idea what Jenna thought about all that had happened, but she was definitely pensive. She even had a frown between her brows. Good. Maybe she would be sufficiently disgusted to keep her distance from now on, to stay away from all vampire territories. She had certainly been exposed to the worst of his kind, the violence and the prejudice.

But the unexpected arrival of the baby had also affected her. He'd seen her smile when the baby was brought close. She must have known that vampires procreated, but perhaps not. There wasn't a lot of communication between his commune and the citizens of Prescott. Vampires lived on the fringes and were best known by those who attended the vampire raves.

He moved slowly into the hallway leading to his rooms. His feet were like lead and he regretted the distance he would now have to cross. As soon as he returned to his office, he would need to summon one of his donors.

Once well into the deserted hall that led to his suite, he stumbled and might have fallen to his knees, but her arm was suddenly there. "Lean on me," she said quietly.

Imagine, a vampire leaning on a weak human?

He draped his arm over her shoulder. "I need nourishment," he said.

"Blood," she whispered, her eyes on the stone pathway.

"Yes."

She said nothing more, but supported him the rest of the way. He directed her into his office, to the chair behind his desk. He slumped into the seat. He shouldn't have let himself get this weak. What the hell had he been thinking?

He looked up at her, but she wasn't looking at him. Her gaze was directed at a stained-glass piece on the desk, suspended on a standing wrought-iron hook. It was one of his favorites, made up of glass cut in a way that gave an appearance of red and gold rain, slanted at an angle because of a strong wind.

"I made this," she said, frowning. She even lifted a finger to point at it. "But I don't remember you ever buying this?"

"I had one of my servants get it for me. I didn't want you to know."

She met his gaze. "Why did my knowing or not knowing even matter?"

"Because of how much I was feeling for you, how much I admired you."

She glanced around the room, her gaze moving from one object to the next, to his collection of books, to the artwork on one wall, to a large collection of ancient maps opposite. "You have wonderful taste."

"Thank you, but you seem surprised." He could hardly keep his head up.

"I suppose I am. I've let my prejudices rule all my thoughts about your kind."

His kind.

She rounded the desk, her fingertips trailing over the wood. She drew near his chair, then without even asking permission she crawled into his lap and flung her hair away from her neck. "Be gentle. I've never done this before."

His intake of breath was sharp and sudden. "You should leave, Jenna. This won't help anything and why would you offer?" She smelled like the sweetest flowers, and he salivated. His fangs emerged, sliding from their deep grooves. He felt the movement into the upper bones of his face. He was breathing hard, his gaze pinned to her neck.

She slid her hand behind his neck and tugged. "Because I'm a fool, of course."

The lamp sat behind the stained glass and colored her throat with lines of red and gold.

"You should go." He trembled now, and the thought of taking her blood aroused him. He pushed his erection against her hip. "But if you choose to stay, I won't be able to control what happens. And when I take your blood you will want to be with me as well."

But she kept tugging on his neck. "I'm starting to feel it too, Treyne, so please just take what you need."

He cried out, then struck swiftly. He withdrew his fangs from her neck and settled in to suck from her vein. He surrounded her with his arms and kept her still.

She moaned, her hand rubbing over his thick pecs, his shoulder, and down his arm.

Nothing had ever tasted like this, like the finest elixir ever made. As he swallowed and the sustenance hit his stomach, power flared through his body along with his need, great, desperate need.

He drank for a long time, but once his hunger was at least partially sated, his desire rose.

He stood up, pushing her onto his desk so that she was on her back. He stripped her, and the sweet smell of her sex was another heady scent. Then he removed his own clothes while she watched, her eyes at half-mast, her lips swollen.

He sat back down on the chair, pulled her hips toward him, and leaned in to lave her damp lower lips, French kissing her deep until he was thrusting into her. She moaned and thrashed. The taking of blood had a magical element that worked a human body, pushing toward a climax.

He wanted to bring her to orgasm now, then he would take more blood.

He felt her body begin tugging deep as he drove his tongue faster, and a moment later she was crying out, her hips rocking into his face, her fingers in his hair, then stroking his face, touching his tongue as it moved in and out of her.

The orgasm went on and on until she screamed at the ceiling and shouted incomprehensible things.

When her hips finally settled down, he lifted up to look at her. She was wild-eyed and breathing hard. "That was incredible," she whispered again.

"I'll give you everything, Jenna, but first, I'm taking more of what I need."

She nodded and her head fell back. She turned, exposing her throat. She must have supposed he meant to take from her neck again, but he had a much more satisfying idea in mind.

JENNA WAS IN a state of euphoric shock. She could think of it no other way. When he'd taken her blood, though the initial strike had hurt, a wave of pleasure had followed swiftly, flowing from the top of her head, down her entire body, even to the bottom of her feet.

The orgasm. Oh, dear God, the orgasm had gone on and on.

Now he would take her blood again.

And she was so ready.

She felt his tongue low, but not on her bare clitoris. She shifted to look down at him and saw that he was licking a line up her groin, pushing against her skin with his tongue.

He then lifted up and slapped two fingers against the same area. His fangs were still heavy in his mouth, dripping with saliva. He licked her groin again.

Her body was still a cauldron of need and as her loose mind began to make sense of his intention, she cried out. She thought the sound she made might have distracted him a little, but he was staring at her skin, waiting. He slapped his fingers against what she knew was a deep vein.

She panted now. Then she felt it, deep inside. Her vein rose for Treyne, pushing toward the surface. She thought he would strike immediately. Instead, he placed one arm over her lower abdomen and with his vampire strength pinned her to the desk.

With his free hand, he slipped two fingers inside her well. Her hips arched, but the viselike arm kept her from rocking. He began driving his fingers in and out of her, getting her ready.

Then he leaned down and struck deep. It stung, as before, but just as quickly he withdrew his fangs and the sucking began.

Again, a wave of pleasure flowed over her, so that her body gripped his fingers as he thrust into her. She was so close, even though he'd just begun pleasuring her.

He sucked hard at her groin and she felt her blood leaving her body. She lay back against the wood and savored all of it, that she was trapped, that he sucked from her body, that he teased her well with his fingers, that pleasure flowed.

She moaned and her head rolled back and forth. "Treyne," she whispered. "I'm so close again. How wonderful this feels."

He sucked harder and thrust faster so that her body began to tighten. Pleasure began to streak through her clitoris, to flow in a strong, heavy wave into her well, getting caught up in more sensation as he thrust faster and sucked harder still.

She was screaming as the orgasm reached a pinnacle so that she was pushing against the wood with her hands and grasping every last bit of sensation.

When at last the pleasure drifted away, she lay still. He withdrew his fingers and slowly rose to stand upright, eyes closed.

She looked at him through half-closed lids. His lips were red with her blood, his chin as well, but he looked amazing, maybe even more muscular than before. His pecs looked larger, his arms as well. His cock was upright reaching almost to his navel, a sight that caused her to clench all over again.

He took several deep breaths and his neck arched. His nostrils flared.

When he opened his eyes, he met and held her gaze. He moved between her legs, positioned his cock, grabbed her hips, and pulled her toward him. He began to push inside, still holding her gaze. His lips were parted and in his eye was a look of power and of mastery.

She grew wet for him all over again. He rose up and caught the backs of her thighs to position himself. He thrust hard now, his abs undulating as his hips flexed.

Each thrust rocked her entire body. She wondered what this felt like for him.

TREYNE HAD NEVER experienced this, not once in the course of his long life. He had known her blood would be special, but he had not thought he'd feel as though his muscles had turned to iron. His cock was a powerful rod that pistoned inside Jenna. She was wet, and as his thrusts grew quicker, she tightened around him and began moaning.

"Oh God," she whispered, panting.

His balls grew tight but he wanted her to come again as well, hopefully at the same time. He moved faster and held his release just offshore.

Then he watched her body roll in a powerful undulation and she began to scream. He held on to her and his orgasm shot through him in a series of hard releases that felt like lightning rushing through his cock. Pleasure exploded as he continued to move, and just when she was settling down he could feel that there was more to come.

"Hold on, Jenna. We're not done yet."

She looked up and met his gaze. Her eyes widened as he thrust and released again, which brought her so that she was crying out as if in agony yet writhing as she came again and again.

When he was fully released and she had relaxed against his desk, he eased her legs down to dangle off the side. He was still connected to her and looked down at his cock. She was bare so that it was easy to see and savor the sight of himself, still partially erect and buried inside her.

His heart hurt suddenly because he knew one thing: This could not happen again.

JENNA SAW A look of pain and of sadness seep into Treyne's beautiful blue-green eyes. She reached a hand up to him but he just looked at her. She could read his thoughts, though. Hell, she shared his thoughts, how hopeless this was between them.

Slowly, he withdrew from her, leaving behind a rush of cool air over her heated flesh. She had never felt so empty.

"As soon as you're dressed and comfortable, I'll take you to your car."

That's right, she was still parked on the street outside.

"Okay." But she stared up at the ceiling. The same grooves had been carved in his office as were in the commune's entrance. Very beautiful.

She had learned so much tonight about Treyne's vampire world, just not enough to make a relationship with him possible.

He brought her a soft cloth and pressed it between her legs.

Damn, he was thoughtful.

Fifteen minutes later, after having cleaned up, she was driving home alone, her Glock on the seat beside her. The last thing he'd said to her was, "Just stay away from the Halloween rave. Dagrith has made a point of being there every year. He'll probably claim another victim."

She had met his gaze. "And you won't intervene."

He shook his head. "And I've told you why I can't."

"I understand."

And she did, but that didn't mean she had the smallest intention of avoiding the rave, because the monster who had abducted her sister might be there.

Chapter Three

THE NEXT NIGHT, at eleven-thirty, Jenna drove to the rave located in Treyne's territory. She gripped the steering wheel hard just knowing that Master Dagrith would be there.

Yeah, she was in over her head.

But if she had a chance even to see Britt, if not rescue her, she had to try.

The rave was held in the same location as the weekly raves, in the long, barnlike building Treyne had constructed on behalf of his commune. He had wanted a safe place for his vampires to meet humans, and the toughest vampires managed the events in order to keep his fellow vampires in line.

She could hear the live band as she walked from the gravel parking lot in the direction of the front doors. Carved and lit pumpkins lined the walkway. Stalks of dried corn had been fashioned into scarecrows. Orange mini-lights were strung everywhere, creating a festive appearance. Everything a Halloween rave should be, at least from the human perspective. She doubted the vampires cared much about the festive appearance.

A number of male vampires hung around the entrance, no doubt checking the new arrivals and looking for willing victims.

She recognized a couple of them from Treyne's seat of power and wasn't surprised when almost as one all the vampires moved away from her. She wondered if she still carried Treyne's scent or if her appearance the night before, wearing the collar and being led by the leash, had set her apart as belonging to their master.

It hardly mattered. She wasn't interested in any of them. Treyne was who she cared about, but she couldn't have him.

As she moved inside, a wave of heat flowed over her, a result of a couple hundred bodies dancing wildly on the wood floor. The music was loud, conversation impossible. She headed to the bar on the left. The crowd of vampires parted for her, just as they had near the door, so that she could sit down on a stool. She took a place at the far end where she could watch everyone who entered the building.

She knew what Dagrith looked like. Treyne had described him once as being taller, bigger, with blond hair and black eyes, so she knew what she was looking for.

She wore black leather, head to toe, and carried her Glock in the pocket of her coat. She checked it now but she wasn't reassured. Vampires moved fast, as Treyne had already proved. But if she sat at the bar, waited for Dagrith, then drew her gun the moment he crossed the threshold, she'd have a chance.

Under vampire law, though, if she killed Dagrith here, she'd be subject to Treyne's laws and not those of Prescott-based law enforcement.

And yet she didn't care.

She ordered a club soda and cranberry juice.

She sipped.

She waited.

"WHAT DO YOU mean Jenna is at the Halloween rave?" Treyne stared at Aaron, his master of the judgments and one of his more trustworthy servants. "You saw her?"

He sat at his desk in his suite, going over the complaints he would need to address the following night, but dammit, now he had a much bigger concern.

Aaron nodded. "Yes, master. The human Jenna was dressed all in black and didn't remove her coat. I smelled gun oil on her. I came as quickly as I could."

Treyne closed his eyes. He knew why she was there, but he couldn't believe after all that he'd shown her, after what he'd told her about Dagrith, that she would be so foolish.

Worse, what would he do if Dagrith became aggressive toward her? He couldn't interfere, not without breaking territorial laws. And yet . . .

For a moment, as he stared at his desk, her scent wafted up to him. It had been barely twenty-four hours since he had taken her blood, then taken her in this exact spot. And the hours after had been some of the most miserable of his life.

He cared about Jenna as he had never cared about another woman in the course of his life. She had become important to him. Now she was in danger, whether she believed she was or not.

He rose to his feet. Despite his intention to keep away from her, he had to go. He had to be sure she was safe. At the very least, he would place himself between Jenna and Dagrith. That much he could do.

He thanked Aaron for letting him know, then moved into his bedroom. He put on a black tee, black leather coat, and leather pants. He donned heavy boots.

Taking a deep breath, he headed up the long pathway on a quick levitated flight and left his commune.

One thing for sure, he'd never felt better in his long-lived vampire life. Jenna's blood had empowered him, strengthened him, and made him in some strange way battle ready.

Yet he didn't want to fight Dagrith. He believed in the sacred nature of territory in his world. But he also understood Jenna's desire to do what she could for Britt. Her sister was important to her, perhaps the most important thing in her life. How could she not go after the vampire who had enslaved and possibly killed her?

As he flew through the air, he began to seriously question a set of laws that would allow a sociopath like Dagrith to continue to enslave and brutalize human women.

As he made his way toward the rave, he hoped like hell he wasn't too late.

JENNA WAS GRATEFUL when the band took a break because it dropped the decibel levels to a tolerable hum of excited conversation. Her head ached from the tension she carried, just waiting for Dagrith to show.

She glanced around. Many of the women were in costume, including the vampire females. But most of the males, vampires or otherwise, were garbed in black. Given their pale skin, it was a striking look all the way around.

Suddenly, the air in the room changed, as though the temperature dropped several degrees. Her heart rate kicked up a few notches. She watched groups of male vampires draw away from the door.

A break in the crowd revealed a sight that tore a cry from Jenna's throat.

Her sister stood thirty feet away from her, thin as a rail, the bones of her shoulders and clavicle protruding, her skin horribly white. She had shadows beneath her eyes and bruises on her arms, chest, and face. Her lips looked odd, swollen perhaps, but covered in blood-red lipstick.

She wore a BDSM collar, but unlike Treyne's version, this one had sharp spikes that faced up and down, clearly intended to torture her. Even at that distance, Jenna could see small rivulets of blood streaking down her neck and chest. Except for Britt's actual death, Jenna saw her worst fears realized.

Still, Britt clung to Dagrith as though he was her lifeline and not her torturer.

Jenna shifted her gaze. He was just as Treyne described him, taller and bigger. His eyes were black, like dark pits that swallowed all light. His blond hair hung in strings to his shoulders. His entourage surrounded him.

He moved into the building and with each step, Treyne's vampires moved back, like magnets that pushed away from each other.

Jenna knew her moment had come. If she was going to take action, it had to be now.

She slipped her gun from her pocket and pressed it to her side. Her Glock didn't have a safety so she was ready to go. She just needed to get close enough to make sure she didn't hit anyone else by accident.

She saw her opening and moved fast. She lifted her arm, supporting her hand as she'd been taught by her instructors, then fired.

The bullet grazed Dagrith's head. She'd been so close. She pulled the trigger a second time, but a blur came at her and before the second bullet left the chamber, her arm was pointed at the ceiling and the bullet bit into the wood rafters above.

"Jenna," Dagrith said, holding her arm aloft. "I recognize you from having seen you with Britt a few times. How nice to meet you at last. Although I must say, your greeting was rather unkind." He kept hold of her arm and lowered it slowly back to her side. He didn't release her. He took the gun and handed it to one of his vampires.

"Let my sister go."

His brows rose as if he was innocent of anything and everything. "Oh, but I can't. We're Treathen bonded and I care for her very deeply."

"You've abused her. Even I can see that. How does that mean that you care for her?"

He leaned close and sniffed her neck. He narrowed his eyes. "I smell a vampire's scent on your skin. Master Treyne's, I think. I also detect just a hint of a Treathen bond. How extraordinary. Sisters, both bound to master vampires. That would have to be some sort of record."

"We are not bound."

At that he smiled and the expression in his dark eyes grew cold and harsh. Jenna began to tremble. "Yes, I can tell that you're not," he said. "Which is very lucky for me."

Before she knew what he meant to do, he grabbed her neck from behind, then, holding her tight, he sank his fangs into her throat. A moment later, he began to drink.

Jenna couldn't move. The fingers at the base of her neck pressed hard. She felt as though Dagrith would crush her with just a little more pressure.

She could see Britt over his shoulder as his head bobbed. Her sister met her gaze and mouthed her name. Jenna reached her free hand toward her, but Britt just shook her head. She looked so hopeless, and why wouldn't she? Up close Jenna could see that some of the bruises were fresh and others were yellow and very old. She was horribly emaciated.

Jenna realized that Britt would die some time in the coming weeks if she did not get help. But what use was Jenna, when the same monster who had abducted Britt was now sucking down Jenna's blood?

She had no way to defend herself, and all of Treyne's vampires stayed at a considerable distance.

As Dagrith drank, she suddenly felt the familiar mist begin to envelop her. The Treathen bond.

She could almost laugh at the absurdity that while she was adamant against forging the bond with Treyne, Dagrith was casting his mist just because he could.

The mist tightened around her, pulling her mind toward Dagrith. She began to sink into his identity, losing her own. Treyne had said each bond was different and this one was clearly based on Dagrith's self-absorbed, sadistic nature. She could feel that very soon, she would belong to Dagrith body and soul, just as Britt did.

WHEN TREYNE ARRIVED in the parking lot of the rave building, he was met by a dozen of his most powerful vampires. All had the same tale to tell, that Dagrith was inside binding Jenna to him, that her sister, Britt, was present and near death's door, and that Dagrith's entourage was muscling through the crowd, grabbing human women, and forcing them to share nourishment.

Treyne headed toward the door but waved them to follow in his wake.

Rage moved over him, in him, through him. He hated how Dagrith and his vampires were treating these women. But under the laws of their world, what could he do? Even though this was his territory, Dagrith, because of his master status, was untouchable, as well as those under his command. By every ancient tradition of their kind, Treyne had no right to interfere.

So what the hell was Treyne supposed to do? He had to uphold the sanctity of his laws, but the moment he reached the entrance and saw the binding mist surrounding Jenna, every cell in his body cried out for vengeance. He knew that there was no way Jenna would ever have agreed to the bond.

Time grew to a halt.

His gaze took in a skeleton of a woman standing behind Dagrith. At first he thought she was in costume. Then he realized he was looking at Britt, that she probably hadn't eaten well in months, and that she'd had her blood drained way too often. She stood very close to Dagrith, one hand on his shoulder as his head bobbed at Jenna's neck.

He could also feel the moment that Dagrith succeeded fully in binding Jenna to him.

All his beliefs about his vampire culture, his strong convictions to avoid the Treathen bond, his commitment to never interfere in another master vampire's actions, ended right here. Dagrith had violated Jenna's free will just as he had cruelly abused Britt. He'd hidden behind their vampire traditions for centuries.

When Dagrith released Jenna, she crumpled to the floor.

Treyne threw his head back and roared. He had caused this. By holding to his beliefs, he had created this moment since he had been unwilling to challenge a fellow master because of principle.

He stared at Jenna on the floor. She was still breathing but she no longer belonged to herself. He could feel that Dagrith's bond was a terrible thing, nothing short of the theft of her soul. And so long as Dagrith drew breath he would continue to harm human females without repercussion.

Maybe that was what Treyne had learned from Jenna and from her culture, that crimes should never be ignored no matter who commits them or under what circumstances.

Dagrith turned to Treyne, smiling. "I could smell your scent on her, Treyne. How charming to think that I had taken something from you, and all because you hold to your antiquated notions."

Treyne walked toward him slowly. "You mean like the sacredness of territory? Of respecting a master vampire's right to do as he pleases?" He waved a hand that encompassed Britt. "Even to destroy lives as he pleases, without consequences?"

Dagrith's smile grew. "Yes, exactly." He drew a white kerchief from his pants pocket and dabbed at his lips. "Your woman's blood is exquisite, by the way, a very floral taste. Rose with just a hint of lilac, I think."

Everything shifted for Treyne as he stared at Jenna's inert body. He realized in this moment how much he had grown to love her over the past year and how the recent lovemaking had served to solidify that love. He understood then that he was already bound to her, as bound as if he had already forged a Treathen bond with her. He also knew that if he had overcome his prejudice and had bound her, she would not be in Dagrith's grip.

He met Dagrith's gaze. "No more," he whispered.

"What did you say?" Dagrith asked, still smiling.

Before Treyne had formed the thought, he launched at Dagrith, levitated behind him, and sank his fangs into the back of Dagrith's neck.

Dagrith jerked wildly, but Treyne had his legs locked around the vampire's waist, both arms encasing Dagrith's head. Gripping one hand on Dagrith's forehead, he twisted hard.

Dagrith screamed, then the scream was cut short, since his vocal cords no longer had lungs anywhere near them to create sound.

Treyne jumped back.

Dagrith's body crumpled next to Jenna, blood pouring from the neck stalk. Treyne released the head, letting it fall next to Dagrith's twitching remains.

Treyne immediately removed his coat and threw it over what would soon be a very dead master vampire.

He stepped around Dagrith and picked Jenna up, holding her in his arms. He ordered his vampires to get all the humans out of the building, to send everyone home. Many of the women were weeping as they ran out.

When only vampires remained, Treyne ordered his servants to dispose of Dagrith. "Take both the head and body and burn them on a pyre outside the commune as a warning."

Several of his vampires hurried forward and took charge of what was left of Dagrith.

He waved the rave manager forward and within seconds he had his crew cleaning up the mess.

Cradling Jenna in his arms, he meant to deal with Dagrith's followers next. But the vampires attached to Dagrith stood off to the side as a group and were blinking strangely as though being brought out of thrall.

Then Treyne understood. So that was how Dagrith had ruled. He had infected his entire commune with his truly evil methods. Even his followers hadn't acted of their own volition.

He couldn't leave them without a master so he asked, "Will you serve me?" His voice boomed through the still-silent building.

One by one the vampires knelt before him and professed their allegiance. The last one to do so spoke in a quiet voice, his face shaded with his hand. "Many humans have died in Dagrith's commune, but there are several that could still be saved. They'll need care and food. Some will require medical attention."

Treyne nodded, then gave his last order of the night, sending his vampires to Dagrith's commune to rescue the surviving humans.

JENNA AWOKE IN the hospital. She felt so weak. She couldn't exactly remember what had happened. She glanced up at the IV attached to her arm. What flowed through the tube was dark red.

Blood.

She was getting a transfusion and that's when she remembered. Dagrith.

She sat up quickly, fearful that he was near, but her dizziness forced her to lie back down. She moaned. Her neck hurt.

"Jenna?"

She glanced to her left and there was Treyne.

"What are you doing here?"

"Staying near you. Making sure you're safe."

She glanced at the wall expecting to find windows, but there weren't any. She felt so disoriented. "What time is it?"

He glanced at the clock near the TV. "Almost noon."

"Noon?" she cried, feeling panicky. "But you shouldn't be here. This is a human hospital, right? Prescott?"

"True, but after the Prescott police vouched for me, you were put in one of the interior rooms so that I could stay with you. Everyone has been very kind."

She put her hand to her head, trying to remember. Tears burned her eyes. "Treyne, I'm so sorry. I have something I need to tell you. I went to the Halloween rave and now I'm bonded with Dagrith. I'm so sorry." She told him how the shot she'd fired had grazed Dagrith's head, then related what had followed.

He had his hand over hers and nodded solemnly. "You were bonded to him at one point, but not anymore."

"I don't understand. I thought the Treathen bond was permanent."

Treyne rose up to his imposing height and drew closer. He took her hand, then sat down on the bed beside her. He told her what had happened after she passed out, even what he'd done to Dagrith. She couldn't stop the tears that tracked down her cheeks. She leaned forward, ignoring her dizziness, and embraced him.

"I know what this cost you," she said, hugging him hard. "You broke the ancient traditions for me and for my sister."

"There were others, as well. At least a dozen women, but we were able to bring them here. All will recover."

"Oh, thank God." She drew in a deep breath. "And Britt?" Her lips trembled. She pinched them together, holding back more tears.

But at the mention of her sister, Treyne smiled. "Would you like to see her?"

"She's alive then?"

Treyne nodded. "Next door. I have permission to take you to her, if you want to go."

"Yes, more than anything."

Treyne rounded the bed to the other side so that he could reach Jenna's IV stand. He picked her up in his arms and Jenna grabbed the stand. "Have you got it?" he asked.

"It will roll, so if you move slowly, we're good."

With one arm hooked around his neck, and her free hand controlling the stand, he carried her to Britt's room.

Her sister also had an IV. She lay on her side facing the door, her eyes closed and her hand curled beneath her cheek. She had cuts all over her chin and throat from the collar. Her bruises looked terrible beneath the fluorescent lights.

"Britt?" Jenna called to her softly.

Britt's eyes fluttered open. "Jenna," she said. She smiled, then made room in the bed for her. Treyne laid her down on her side to face Britt.

Jenna wept. She kept petting her sister's shoulder, and tears streamed from her eyes, even more so when Britt said, "Stop crying." She wiped at Jenna's tears with her fingers. "I'm here."

She was so thin. "What do the doctors say, about your health, I mean?"

"That I'm severely malnourished and will require months to heal. I won't be leaving the hospital soon." She shifted her gaze to Treyne. "Thank you, master, for all that you've done. You saved so many women last night and we're so grateful."

Jenna turned to look up at him and saw the haunted look in his eye. She grabbed his hand and squeezed. "You are not allowed to feel bad about any of this."

He met her gaze. "I should have acted sooner."

"And so should I, but I didn't. It took me an entire year to work up the courage to confront you in your commune."

He drew a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut for a long moment. When he opened them, he nodded slowly. "Then we'll let the past reside in the past, okay?"

She nodded several times. "Agreed. We'll move forward from here."

She then turned to Britt and for the next several hours lay beside her, slept a lot, and when both were feeling better, Britt began to speak about all that she had endured. In turn, Jenna shared her recent experience at Treyne's judicial chamber and how differently she viewed the vampire world now.

TWO WEEKS LATER, Jenna had Treyne in her house once more, only this time on a more permanent basis.

The Victorian that she lived in, though nicely restored, had way too many windows for a vampire during the day. But the hour was midnight, Treyne had cooked for her and then she had given him nourishment, while sitting on his lap, his lips sucking at her neck.

She had been out of the hospital for over a week and her blood supply was fully restored, so much so that the doctor declared her sufficiently well to give sustenance to her vampire boyfriend.

Of course, the sharing of blood had brought about a new problem, one that Treyne suggested they resolve in her bedroom. She led him by the hand, unable to believe this was happening, that she was finally taking Treyne into her bed.

Her room had almost a French look with black and white as the main color scheme with a few scarlet accents, like her sheets.

"I have always thought this room was both elegant and powerful," he said.

"I redid it a few months ago, not long after I met you. I hate to confess this, but I was thinking of you when I did it."

His brows rose. "You were?"

"I was so attracted to you and if ever I had you in my bedroom, other than to just show you the layout, I wanted you to feel comfortable."

He chuckled softly and drew her into his arms. "That is one of the many things I love about you, Jenna. You are always thinking of others."

She caressed his face and leaned up to kiss him. "Well, I'm not so sure about that, but I am definitely always thinking about you."

She released his hand and sat down on the side of the bed, beckoning him forward. "Now let me work those laces of yours."

He moved in close. He was fully aroused, which pleased her to no end. But then he'd just tanked up on her nourishment so he should be.

As before, when she saw the head, she leaned down and licked him. He groaned, his hips rocking forward. "You did that the first night we made love."

"Yes, I did and I want to do it again about a thousand more times."

He smiled down at her and stroked her cheek with his thumb. "I'm counting on it."

He undressed her after that and when he had removed his clothes, he climbed into bed, stretching out on top of her. "Jenna, I have something I want to ask you, but it might be too soon. If it is, just tell me."

She put her hand on his chest between his massive pecs. "The answer is yes."

"Yes, what?" He frowned.

"Yes, I want to complete the Treathen bond with you."

"You do?"

She nodded. "Absolutely."

"I was afraid because of what Dagrith had done to you, that you wouldn't want to."

She drew a deep breath. "You once told me that the Treathen bond is different for every couple, that it depends solely on the vampire and the human involved."

"It does."

She smiled. "Then I'm in. I trust you, Treyne, with all my heart, and I also know, given that I intend to spend a lot of time in your commune, that it would be easier on your vampires if I was bound to you."

"You're right about that and it's important to me that you're with me in my commune. But without the bond, you'd probably be consigned to my quarters exclusively, and that would get old really fast."

Jenna's heart rate increased. She couldn't believe she was doing this, something she'd opposed vehemently just a few weeks ago. But as Treyne leaned down and kissed her, as his tongue drove into her mouth, she knew she wanted this more than anything else in the world.

She loved him and she had for months now. She just hadn't acknowledged her feelings because Treyne was a vampire.

He drew back. "I love you," he said, his cock poised at her entrance.

"I love you too." His blue-green eyes were warm with all he felt. "I never thought this would happen for me."

He smiled. "That you would love a vampire?"

"Nothing so simple. No, I mean that I would feel such love in my life. I'm amazed and so grateful."

Treyne dipped his chin. "I was resigned to being alone forever. Your coming along as you did was for me a miracle. I'm still in awe. I love you so much."

When he kissed her this time, Jenna slid her arms around him and held him close. Passion flowed and her breathing hitched. His lips grazed her cheek and words drifted over her in broken patches, delivered between more kisses, but the meaning was clear. "Love . . . so happy . . . by all the vampire gods . . . Jenna . . . love, love, love."

As his cock pushed inside her, Jenna felt the Treathen mist begin to swirl over her, emanating from Treyne and surrounding her. Desire cascaded in heavy waves as he began to thrust into her, pull back, and thrust some more.

She tilted her head and pulled her long hair away from her throat. "Please" came hoarsely out of her mouth.

He grunted and groaned as he stilled in his pushing, struck her neck with his fangs, then began to suck heavily. He drove his cock once more.

Jenna's hands flew over his muscled shoulders, back, and arms in a continuous loop. Her heart was so full as she felt her blood leaving her body to nourish Treyne. The swirls of mist caressed her skin, enhancing all that she felt.

As Treyne drove faster, every part of her being engaged in the act of love. Pleasure built low as the bond began to tighten.

"Jenna," Treyne murmured, drawing back from her neck.

She held him tight, savoring the heavy rhythm of his thrusts, even the blood on his lips. "Kiss me."

He crashed down on her, and as he did, the bond locked into place. Ecstasy shot through her, first low, then spreading like lightning through her entire body.

Treyne appeared caught as well as he arched his back, his thrusts deep and powerful. He shouted as he released.

Jenna had never known such an intense sensation, such a perfect joining.

As he eased down, he met her gaze and released a deep sigh. He smiled, then he kissed her, then he smiled some more.

"We're bound together," he said.

"I can feel it."

He nodded and kissed her again. "You belong to me now."

"Yes. As you belong to me."

"Always."

He lowered himself onto her fully and slid his arms beneath her back. He held her tight as she embraced him in return.

This was love, magical and pure.

How grateful Jenna was that she had taken so many difficult steps in the last few weeks that had led her to accepting Treyne into her life. Maybe loving a vampire had never been on her radar, but being with him now, loving him and being loved by him, was more than she had ever thought to have in her entire life.

About the Authors

The bestselling author of the Dark Days series and the upcoming Angel's Ink, and former financial analyst, JOCELYNN DRAKE lives in Wisconsin.

A Southern girl with an overactive imagination, RITA(r) and PRISM awards winner TERRI GAREY lives in Florida, where anything weird is considered normal. A former computer analyst, she left the dry world of logic behind in order to write novels filled with fantasy, romance, and happily-ever-afters. Terri loves to hear from readers. Visit her on the web at www.tgarey.com.

CARIS ROANE has had a long-time love affair with vampires, and now writes in the paranormal genre. Her Guardians of Ascension series is set in a unique vampire world based on ascending dimensional earths, and the sixth book, Gates of Rapture, will be releasing later in 2012. Caris lives in Phoenix, Arizona, with her two cats, Sebastien and Gizzy.

Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

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Give in to your impulses . . .

Read on for a sneak peek at two brand-new
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Available now wherever e-books are sold.

THE FORBIDDEN LADY

By Kerrelyn Sparks

TURN TO DARKNESS

By Jaime Rush

An Excerpt from

THE FORBIDDEN LADY
by Kerrelyn Sparks

(Originally published under the title For Love or Country)

Before New York Times bestselling author Kerrelyn Sparks created a world of vampires, there was another world of spies and romance . . .

Keep reading for a look at her very first novel.

CHAPTER ONE

Tuesday, August 29, 1769

"I say, dear gel, how much do you cost?"

Virginia's mouth dropped open. "I--I beg your pardon?"

The bewigged, bejeweled, and bedeviling man who faced her spoke again. "You're a fetching sight and quite sweet-smelling for a wench who has traveled for weeks, imprisoned on this godforsaken ship. I say, what is your price?"

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. The rolling motion of the ship caught her off guard, and she stumbled, widening her stance to keep her balance. This man thought she was for sale? Even though they were on board The North
Star, a brigantine newly arrived in Boston Harbor with a fresh supply of indentured servants, could he actually mistake her for one of the poor wretched criminals huddled near the front of the ship?

Her first reaction of shock was quickly replaced with anger. It swelled in her chest, heated to a quick boil, and soared past her ruffled neckline to her face, scorching her cheeks 'til she fully expected steam, instead of words, to escape her mouth.

"How . . . how dare you!" With gloved hands, she twisted the silken cords of her drawstring purse. "Pray, be gone with you, sir."

"Ah, a saucy one." The gentleman plucked a silver snuffbox from his lavender silk coat. He kept his tall frame erect to avoid flipping his wig, which was powdered with a lavender tint to match his coat. "Tsk, tsk, dear gel, such impertinence is sure to lower your price."

Her mouth fell open again.

Seizing the opportunity, he raised his quizzing glass and examined the conveniently opened orifice. "Hmm, but you do have excellent teeth."

She huffed. "And a sharp tongue to match."

"Mon Dieu, a very saucy mouth, indeed." He smiled, displaying straight, white teeth.

A perfectly bright smile, Virginia thought. What a pity his mental faculties were so dim in comparison. But she refrained from responding with an insulting remark. No good could come from stooping to his level of ill manners. She stepped back, intending to leave, but hesitated when he spoke again.

"I do so like your nose. Very becoming and--" He opened his silver box, removed a pinch of snuff with his gloved fingers and sniffed.

She waited for him to finish the sentence. He was a buffoon, to be sure, but she couldn't help but wonder--did he actually like her nose? Over the years, she had endured a great deal of teasing because of the way it turned up on the end.

He snapped his snuffbox shut with a click. "Ah, yes, where was I, becoming and . . . disdainfully haughty. Yes, that's it."

Heat pulsed to her face once more. "I daresay it is not surprising for you to admire something disdainfully haughty, but regardless of your opinion, it is improper for you to address me so rudely. For that matter, it is highly improper for you to speak to me at all, for need I remind you, sir, we have not been introduced."

He dropped his snuffbox back into his pocket. "Definitely disdainful. And haughty." His mouth curled up, revealing two dimples beneath the rouge on his cheeks.

She glared at the offensive fop. Somehow, she would give him the cut he deserved.

A short man in a brown buckram coat and breeches scurried toward them. "Mr. Stanton! The criminals for sale are over there, sir, near the forecastle. You see the ones in chains?"

Raising his quizzing glass, the lavender dandy pivoted on his high heels and perused the line of shackled prisoners. He shrugged his silk-clad shoulders and glanced back at Virginia with a look of feigned horror. "Oh, dear, what a delightful little faux pas. I suppose you're not for sale after all?"

"No, of course not."

"I do beg your pardon." He flipped a lacy, monogrammed handkerchief out of his chest pocket and made a poor attempt to conceal the wide grin on his face.

A heavy, flowery scent emanated from his handkerchief, nearly bowling her over. He was probably one of those people who never bathed, just poured on more perfume. She covered her mouth with a gloved hand and gently coughed.

"Well, no harm done." He waved his handkerchief in the air. "C'est la vie and all that. Would you care for some snuff? 'Tis my own special blend from London, don't you know. We call it Grey Mouton."

"Gray sheep?"

"Why, yes. Sink me! You parlez francais? How utterly charming for one of your class."

Narrowing her eyes, she considered strangling him with the drawstrings of her purse.

He removed the silver engraved box from his pocket and flicked it open. "A pinch, in the interest of peace?" His mouth twitched with amusement.

"No, thank you."

He lifted a pinch to his nose and sniffed. "What did I tell you, Johnson?" he asked the short man in brown buckram at his side. "These Colonials are a stubborn lot, far too eager to take offense"--he sneezed delicately into his lacy handkerchief--"and far too unappreciative of the efforts the mother country makes on their behalf." He slid his closed snuffbox back into his pocket.

Virginia planted her hands on her hips. "You speak, perhaps, of Britain's kindness in providing us with a steady stream of slaves?"

"Slaves?"

She gestured toward the raised platform of the forecastle, where Britain's latest human offering stood in front, chained at the ankles and waiting to be sold.

"Oh." He waved his scented handkerchief in dismissal. "You mean the indentured servants. They're not slaves, my dear, only criminals paying their dues to society. 'Tis the mother country's fervent hope they will be reformed by their experience in America."

"I see. Perhaps we should send the mother country a boatload of American wolves to see if they can be reformed by their experience in Britain?"

His chuckle was surprisingly deep. "Touche."

The deep timbre of his voice reverberated through her skin, striking a chord that hummed from her chest down to her belly. She caught her breath and looked at him more closely. When his eyes met hers, his smile faded away. Time seemed to hold still for a moment as he held her gaze, quietly studying her.

The man in brown cleared his throat.

Virginia blinked and looked away. She breathed deeply to calm her racing heart. Once more, she became aware of the murmur of voices and the screech of sea gulls overhead. What had happened? It must have been the thrill of putting the man in his place that had affected her. Strange, though, that he had happily acknowledged her small victory.

Mr. Stanton gave the man in brown a mildly irritated look, then smiled at her once more. "American wolves, you say? Really, my dear, these people's crimes are too petty to compare them to murderous beasts. Why, Johnson, here, was an indentured servant before becoming my secretary. Were you not, Johnson?"

"Aye, Mr. Stanton," the older man answered. "But I came voluntarily. Not all these people are prisoners. The group to the right doesn't wear chains. They're selling themselves out of desperation."

"There, you see." The dandy spread his gloved hands, palms up, in a gesture of conciliation. "No hard feelings. In fact, I quite trust Johnson here with all my affairs in spite of his criminal background. You know the Colonials are quite wrong in thinking we British are a cold, callous lot."

Virginia gave Mr. Johnson a small, sympathetic smile, letting him know she understood his indenture had not been due to a criminal past. Her own father, faced with starvation and British cruelty, had left his beloved Scottish Highlands as an indentured servant. Her sympathy seemed unnecessary, however, for Mr. Johnson appeared unperturbed by his employer's rudeness. No doubt the poor man had grown accustomed to it.

She gave Mr. Stanton her stoniest of looks. "Thank you for enlightening me."

"My pleasure, dear gel. Now I must take my leave." Without further ado, he ambled toward the group of gaunt, shackled humans, his high-heeled shoes clunking on the ship's wooden deck and his short secretary tagging along behind.

Virginia scowled at his back. The British needed to go home, and the sooner, the better.

"I say, old man." She heard his voice filter back as he addressed his servant. "I do wish the pretty wench were for sale. A bit too saucy, perhaps, but I do so like a challenge. Quel dommage, a real pity, don't you know."

A vision of herself tackling the dandy and stuffing his lavender-tinted wig down his throat brought a smile to her lips. She could do it. Sometimes she pinned down her brother when he tormented her. Of course, such behavior might be frowned upon in Boston. This was not the hilly region of North Carolina that the Munro family called home.

And the dandy might prove difficult to knock down. Watching him from the back, she realized how large he was. She grimaced at the lavender bows on his high-heeled pumps. Why would a man that tall need to wear heels? Another pair of lavender bows served as garters, tied over the tabs of his silk knee breeches. His silken hose were too sheer to hide padding, so those calves were truly that muscular. How odd.

He didn't mince his steps like one would expect from a fopdoodle, but covered the deck with long, powerful strides, the walk of a man confident in his strength and masculinity.

She found herself examining every inch of him, calculating the amount of hard muscle hidden beneath the silken exterior. What color was his hair under that hideous tinted wig? Probably black, like his eyebrows. His eyes had gleamed like polished pewter, pale against his tanned face.

Her breath caught in her throat. A tanned face? A fop would not spend the necessary hours toiling in the sun that resulted in a bronzed complexion.

This Mr. Stanton was a puzzle.

She shook her head, determined to forget the perplexing man. Yet, if he dressed more like the men back home--tight buckskin breeches, boots, no wig, no lace . . .

The sun bore down with increasing heat, and she pulled her hand-painted fan from her purse and flicked it open. She breathed deeply as she fanned herself. Her face tingled with a mist of salty air and the lingering scent of Mr. Stanton's handkerchief.

She watched with growing suspicion as the man in question postured in front of the women prisoners with his quizzing glass, assessing them with a practiced eye. Oh, dear, what were the horrible man's intentions? She slipped her fan back into her purse and hastened to her father's side.

Jamie Munro was speaking quietly to a fettered youth who appeared a good five years younger than her one and twenty years. "All I ask, young man, is honesty and a good day's work. In exchange, ye'll have food, clean clothes, and a clean pallet."

The spindly boy's eyes lit up, and he licked his dry, chapped lips. "Food?"

Virginia's father nodded. "Aye. Mind you, ye willna be working for me, lad, but for my widowed sister, here, in Boston. Do ye have any experience as a servant?"

The boy lowered his head and shook it. He shuffled his feet, the scrape of his chains on the deck grating at Virginia's heart.

"Papa," she whispered.

Jamie held up a hand. "Doona fash yerself, lass. I'll be taking the boy."

As the boy looked up, his wide grin cracked the dried dirt on his cheeks. "Thank you, my lord."

Jamie winced. "Mr. Munro, it is. We'll have none of that lordy talk aboot here. Welcome to America." He extended a hand, which the boy timidly accepted. "What is yer name, lad?"

"George Peeper, sir."

"Father." Virginia tugged at the sleeve of his blue serge coat. "Can we afford any more?"

Jamie Munro's eyes widened and he blinked at his daughter. "More? Just an hour ago, ye upbraided me aboot the evils of purchasing people, and now ye want more? 'Tis no' like buying ribbons for yer bonny red hair."

"I know, but this is important." She leaned toward him. "Do you see the tall man in lavender silk?"

Jamie's nose wrinkled. "Aye. Who could miss him?"

"Well, he wanted to purchase me--"

"What?"

She pressed the palms of her hands against her father's broad chest as he moved to confront the dandy. " 'Twas a misunderstanding. Please."

His blue eyes glittering with anger, Jamie clenched his fists. "Let me punch him for you, lass."

"No, listen to me. I fear he means to buy one of those ladies for . . . immoral purposes."

Jamie frowned at her. "And what would ye be knowing of a man's immoral purposes?"

"Father, I grew up on a farm. I can make certain deductions, and I know from the way he looked at me, the man is not looking for someone to scrub his pots."

"What can I do aboot it?"

"If he decides he wants one, you could outbid him."

"He would just buy another, Ginny. I canna be buying the whole ship. I can scarcely afford this one here."

She bit her lip, considering. "You could buy one more if Aunt Mary pays for George. She can afford it much more than we."

"Nay." Jamie shook his head. "I willna have my sister paying. This is the least I can do to help Mary before we leave. Besides, I seriously doubt I could outbid the dandy even once. Look at the rich way he's dressed, though I havena stet clue why a man would spend good coin to look like that."

The ship rocked suddenly, and Virginia held fast to her father's arm. A breeze wafted past her, carrying the scent of unwashed bodies. She wrinkled her nose. She should have displayed the foresight to bring a scented handkerchief, though not as overpowering as the one sported by the lavender popinjay.

Having completed his leisurely perusal of the women, Mr. Stanton was now conversing quietly with a young boy.

"Look, Father, that boy is so young to be all alone. He cannot be more than ten."

"Aye," Jamie replied. "We can only hope a good family will be taking him in."

"How much for the boy?" Mr. Stanton demanded in a loud voice.

The captain answered, "You'll be thinking twice before taking that one. He's an expensive little wretch."

Mr. Stanton lowered his voice. "Why is that?"

"I'll be needing payment for his passage and his mother's. The silly tart died on the voyage, so the boy owes you fourteen years of labor."

The boy swung around and shook a fist at the captain. "Me mum was not a tart, ye bloody old bugger!"

The captain yelled back, "And he has a foul mouth, as you can see. You'll be taking the strap to him before the day is out."

Virginia squeezed her father's arm. "The boy is responsible for his mother's debt?"

"Aye." Jamie nodded. " 'Tis how it works."

Mr. Stanton adjusted the lace on his sleeves. "I have a fancy to be extravagant today. Name your price."

"At least the poor boy will have a roof over his head and food to eat." Virginia grimaced. "I only hope the dandy will not dress him in lavender silk."

Jamie Munro frowned. "Oh, dear."

"What is it, Father?"

"Ye say the man was interested in you, Ginny?"

"Aye, he seemed to like me in his own horrid way."

"Hmm. Perhaps the lad will be all right. At any rate, 'tis too late now. Let me pay for George, and we'll be on our way."

An Excerpt from

TURN TO DARKNESS
by Jaime Rush

Enter the world of the Offspring with this latest novella in Jaime Rush's fabulous paranormal series.

CHAPTER ONE

When Shea Baker pulled into her driveway, the sight of Darius's black coupe in front of her little rented house annoyed her. That it wasn't Greer's Jeep, and that she was disappointed it wasn't, annoyed the hell out of her.

Darius pulled out his partially dismantled wheelchair from inside the car and put it together within a few seconds. His slide from the driver's seat into his wheelchair was so practiced it was almost fluid. He waved, oblivious to her frown, and wheeled over to her truck. "As pale as you looked after hearing what Tucker, Del, and I went through, I thought you'd go right home." He wore his dark blond hair in a James Dean style, his waves gelled to stand up.

She had been freaked. Two men trying to kill them, men who would kill them all if they knew about their existence. She yanked her baseball cap lower on her head, a nervous habit. "I had a couple of jobs to check on. What brings you by?" She hoped it was something quick he could tell her right there and leave.

"Tucker kicked me out. I think he feels threatened by me, because I had to take charge. I saved the day, and he won't even admit it."

None of the guys were comfortable with Darius. His mercurial mood shifts and oversized ego were irritating, but the shadows in his eyes hinted at an affinity for violence. In the two years he'd lived with them, though, he'd mostly kept to himself. She'd had no problem with him because he remained aloof, never revealing his emotions, even when he talked about the car accident that had taken his mobility. Unfortunately, when he thought she was reaching out to him, that aloofness had changed to romantic interest.

"Sounded like you went off the rails." She crossed her arms in front of her. "Look, if you're here to get me on your side, I won't--"

"I'd never ask you to do that." His upper lip lifted in a sneer. "I know you're loyal only to Tucker."

She narrowed her eyes, her body stiffening. "Tuck's like a big brother to me. He gave me a home when I was on the streets, told me why I have extraordinary powers." That she'd inherited DNA from another dimension was crazy-wild, but it made as much sense as, say, being able to move objects with her mind. "I'd take his side over anyone's."

"Wish someone would feel that kind of loyalty to me," Darius muttered under his breath, making her wonder if he was trying to elicit her sympathy. "I get that you're brotherly/sisterly." He let those words settle for a second. "But something happened with you and Greer, didn't it? What did he do, grope you?"

"Don't be ridiculous. Greer would never do something like that."

"Something happened, because all of a sudden the way you looked at each other changed. Like he was way interested in you, and you were way uncomfortable around him. Then you sat all close to me, and I know you felt the same electricity I did."

She shook her head, sending her curly ponytail swinging over her shoulder. "There was no electricity. Greer and I had a . . . disagreement. I needed to put some space between us, but when you live in a house with four other people, there isn't a lot of room. When I sat next to you, I was just moving away from him."

Darius's shoulders, wide and muscular, stiffened. "You might think that, Shea. You might even believe it. But someday you're going to realize you want me. And when you do, I want you to know I can satisfy you. When I'm in Darkness, I'm a whole man." That dark glint in his eyes hinted at his arrogance. "I'm capable of anything."

Those words shivered through her, but not in the way he'd intended. In that moment, she knew somehow that he was capable of anything. Darius might be confined to a wheelchair, but only a fool would underestimate him, and she was no fool. Especially where Darkness was concerned. The guys possessed it, yet didn't know exactly what it was. All they knew was that they'd probably inherited it, along with the DNA that gave them extraordinary powers, from the men who'd gotten their mothers pregnant. It allowed them to Become something far from human.

"Please, Darius, don't talk to me about that kind of thing. I'm not interested in having sex with anyone."

The corner of his mouth twisted cruelly. "Don't you like sex? Maybe you've never been with someone who could do it well."

For a long time the thought of sex had coated her in shame and disgust. Until that little incident with Greer, when she'd had a totally different--and surprising--reaction.

"Look, I'm sorry Tuck kicked you out, but I don't have a guest bedroom."

"I'll sleep on the couch. You won't even know I'm here." His face transformed from darkly sexual to a happy little boy's. "I don't have any other place to stay," he added, building his case. "You just said how grateful you are to Tuck for taking you in. I'm only asking for the same thing."

Damn, he had her. As much as she wanted to squash her feelings, some things did reach right under her shields. And some people . . . like Greer. Now, Darius's manipulation did. "All right," she spat out, feeling pinned.

Her phone rang from where she'd left it inside her truck.

"Thanks, Shea," Darius said, wheeling to his car and popping the trunk. "You're a doll."

She got into her truck, grabbing up the phone and eyeing the screen. Greer. She'd been trying to avoid him since moving out three months before. But with the weirdness going on lately, she needed to stay in the loop.

"Hey," she answered. "What's up?"

"Tuck and Darius had it out a while ago. Darius has this idea about being the alpha male, which is just stupid, and Tuck kicked him out. I wanted to let you know in case he shows up on your doorstep pulling his 'poor me' act."

"Too late," she said in a singsong voice. "Act pulled--very well, I might add. He's staying for a few days."

"Bad idea." Always the protective one. He made no apologies for it either.

She watched Darius lift his suitcase onto his lap and wheel toward the ramp he'd installed for wheelchair access to her front door. "Well, what was I supposed to do, turn him away? I don't like it either."

"I'm coming over."

"There's no need . . ." She looked at the screen, blinking to indicate he'd ended the call. ". . . to come over," she finished anyway.

She got out, feeling like her feet weighed fifty pounds each, and trudged to the door. All she wanted was to be alone, a quiet evening trimming her bonsai to clear her mind.

There would be no mind-clearing tonight. There'd be friction between Greer and Darius, just like there had been before she'd moved out. Tuck had eased her into the reality of Darkness, he and Greer morphing into black beasts only after she'd accepted the idea. Tuck told her it also made them fiercely, and insanely, territorial about their so-called mates. She hadn't thought twice about that until Darius and Greer both took a different kind of liking to her. She was afraid they'd tear each other's throats out, and she wasn't either of their mates.

"Two days," she said, unlocking her front door. "I like living on my own. Being alone." Most of the time. It was strange, but she'd sit at her table in the mornings having coffee (not as strong as Greer's k iller brew) and be happy about being alone. Then she'd get hit with a wave of sadness about being alone.

See how messed up you are.

"You might like having me around," he said. "If that guy who's been creeping around makes an appearance, I'll kick his ass."

"Well, he's too much of a coward to knock on the door." She didn't want to think about her stalker. He hadn't left any of his icky letters or "gifts" in a few days.

She figured out where Darius could stash his suitcases and was hunting down extra sheets and a blanket when the doorbell rang. Before she could even set the extra pillow down to answer, she heard Darius's voice: "Well, look who's here. What a nice surprise."

Not by the tone in his voice. Damn, this was so not cool having them both here. They'd been like snarling dogs the day everyone had helped her move in here. She hadn't had them over since.

She walked out holding the pillow to her chest like a shield. Greer's eyes went right to her, giving her a clear Is everything all right? look.

She wasn't in danger. That's as far as she'd commit.

Greer closed the door and sauntered in, as though he always stopped by. "Thought I'd check in on you. After what happened, figured you might be on edge." There he went again, sinking her into the depths of his eyes. They were rimmed in gray, brown in the middle, the most unusual eyes she'd ever seen. And they were assessing her.

"She's fine," Darius answered as she opened her mouth. "I'm staying here for a couple of days, which will work out nicely . . . in case she's on edge." His unspoken So you can go now was clear.

Greer moved closer to her, putting himself physically between her and Darius. He was a damned wall of a man, too, way tall, wide shoulders, and just big. He purposely blocked Darius's view of her.

She'd done this, sparked them into hostile territory. Which was laughable, considering what she looked like: baggy pants and shirt, cap over her head, no makeup. She'd done everything she could for the last six years to squash every bit of her femininity. Her sexuality. Then Greer had blown that to bits.

He hadn't knocked, just barged into the bathroom, a towel loosely held in front of his naked body. She was drying her hair and suddenly he was standing there gaping at her.

"Jesus, Shea, you're beautiful," he'd said, obviously in shock.

She couldn't move, spellbound herself, which was ridiculous because she wasn't interested in anyone sexually. But there stood six feet four of olive-skinned Apache with muscled thighs and a scant bit of towel covering him. And the way he'd said those words, with his typical passion, and his looking at her like she was beautiful and he wanted her, woke up something inside her.

Breaking out of the spell and wrapping her towel around her, she'd yelled at him for barging in, stepping up close to him and jabbing her finger at his chest.

And what had he done? Lifted her damp hair from her shoulders, hair she never left loose, his fingers brushing her bare shoulders. "Why do you hide yourself from us?" he'd asked.

"Don't say anything about this to anyone." Would he tell them how oversized her breasts were? Would they wonder why she hid her curves, talking behind her back, speculating? "Leave. Now."

He'd shrugged, his dark brown eyebrows furrowing. "No need to get mad or freaked out. It was an accident. We're friends."

He left, finally, and she looked in the steamy reflection. She didn't see beautiful. But she did see hunger, and even worse, felt it.

"How's your big job coming?" Greer asked now, pulling her out of the memory. He was leaning against the back of the couch, which inadvertently flexed the muscles in his arms.

He remembered, which touched her even if she didn't want to be touched. Still, she found herself smiling. "Great. We're putting the finishing touches now that the hard-scaping and most of the planting is finished. This is my biggest job yet. My business has kept me sane through all this. Gotta keep working on the customer's jobs." She glanced to the window. If the sun weren't going to be setting soon, she'd come up with some job she had to zip off to right then.

Dammit, she missed Greer. Hated having to shut him out. Now, things were odd between them. He looked at her differently, heat in his eyes, and hurt, too, because he didn't understand why she'd pushed him away. Like he'd said, it was an accident that he'd walked in on her.

"Do you want to stay for dinner?" she asked, not sure whether having them both there would be better than being alone with Darius.

Greer glanced at his watch. "Wish I could. My shift starts in an hour."

Darius wheeled up. "Yeah, the big bad firefighter, off to save lives." He made a superhero arm motion, pumping one fist in the air.

Greer's mouth twisted in a snarl. "I'd rather do that than tinker with computer parts all day."

"Boys," she said, sounding like a teacher.

Another knock on the door. Hopefully it was Tucker. He was good at stepping in. But it wasn't Tucker. Two men stood there, their badges at the ready. "Cheyenne Baker?" one of them asked.

She nodded, feeling Greer step up behind her.

"Detective Dan Marshall, and Detective Paul Marron. May we come in?"

"What's this about?" Greer asked before she could say anything.

"We have some questions about a recent incident." The man, in his forties, waited patiently for someone to invite them inside.

Greer inspected the badge, nodded to her. It was legit.

Shea checked it, too, then stepped back, bumping into Greer. "These are friends of mine," she said, waving to Greer and Darius.

Marshall closed the door behind them, taking in both men as though noting their appearance. He focused on her. "You've heard about the man who was mauled two nights ago?"

Her mouth went dry. How had they connected that to her? Bad enough that it triggered two men from the other dimension to hunt down their offspring. "Yes, it sounded horrible." She shuddered, and didn't have to fake it. "Wild animals attacking people in their own home."

"We don't think it was a wild animal. Do you know Fred Callahan, the victim?"

"No, I--" Her words jammed in her throat when she saw the picture he held up, a driver's license photo probably. All the blood drained from her face. "I knew him as Frankie C." She cleared the fuzz from her voice. "I haven't seen him for six years." She wanted the cops to go, or for Greer and Darius to leave. "I'm sorry, I can't help you."

Marshall's eyes flicked to Greer and Darius before returning to her. "We found pictures and notes about you on his computer. There was a letter in his desk drawer addressed to you, indicating he'd written to you before. It wasn't a very nice letter."

Her knees went weak. Greer somehow sensed it and clamped his hands on her shoulders. "What are you insinuating?" His hands started warming her, one of his psychic abilities.

Darius wheeled closer. "You can't possibly think this slip of a girl could tear a man apart."

"I've been getting letters, creepy gifts," she said. "But I didn't know who they were from." Frankie. She had wondered, yes, but how had he found her? And why after all these years?

"May I see them?" Marshall asked.

She'd wanted to throw them away, but thought they might be evidence if things escalated. She went to the file cabinet in her office and returned with the letters, and the box.

Marshall frowned when he opened it and saw the dildo, the flavored lube creams. "Can I take these?"

"Please." And go. Say no more.

He looked at Greer and Darius. "Did either of you know who was harassing her?"

Darius snorted. "No, but I'm glad the sick fu--the guy is dead. It's wrong to harass a woman like that."

Greer shook his head, but his gaze was on her.

Marshall turned to her again. "Callahan worked at the phone company. That's probably how he found you. You haven't heard from him at all in the six years since you filed charges against him and the other two men?"

"No, nothing," she said quickly. "I'd rather not--"

"I'm sure the detective you spoke to talked you out of going forward with the charges. I read the file and agree that it was a long shot to prosecute the case successfully. Still, I wish we had. One of those other men raped a teenaged girl a couple of years back. He's in prison now. The other's been jailed a few times on battery charges."

She felt Greer's questioning stare on her. "I'm sorry to hear that." Her words sounded shaky. Leave, dammit.

Marshall glanced in the box, then her. "But Callahan hasn't had another brush with the law. We did find some rather disturbing items in his home, including sex toys I presume he intended to send to you. One was a pair of handcuffs, and they weren't the fuzzy kind. It's the sort of thing that makes me uncomfortable about where he was going with this. So if you"--he looked at her friends--"or anyone had something to do with his death, it may have saved your life. But still, we have to investigate. It's a crime to tear a man apart, no matter how much of a scumbag he is."

"Son of a bitch," Greer said. His hands tightened on her as she slumped against the couch, and then he pulled her against his body, his arms like a shield over her collarbone.

Oh, God. Had Frankie been planning to rape her again? That overshadowed anything else in her mind at the moment.

Marshall seemed to be giving them time to fess up.

"We didn't know who the guy sending that stuff was," Shea said. "You can see from the letters that he never signed them." They'd been crude letters, detailing what he wanted to do to her body, and she'd forced herself to read them because she needed to know how much he knew about her. Or if they contained an explicit threat.

"Was it because of your earlier experience that you didn't report the stalking?" Marshall asked.

She shrugged, though it felt as though she wore an armored suit that smelled of a citrus cologne. "I didn't see it as threatening. Only gross and annoying."

Wrapped in Greer's embrace, she felt safe in a sea of chaos.

Marshall gave her his business card. "If there's anything else you know or remember, please give me a call." He took a step toward the door but turned back to her. "Ms. Baker, if anyone ever hurts you like that again, call me."

As soon as he left, Darius wheeled in front of her. "The guy's dead, Shea. You don't have to worry about him anymore. Isn't that great?"

Thank God Darius hadn't asked for more information. If only Greer would let it go.

He turned her to face him. "What happened? What was he talking about, if you're hurt 'again'?" His concern turned her to mush, and then his expression changed. He cradled her face, and as much as she wanted to push away, she couldn't. "Oh, Shea."

She heard it all in his voice--that he'd figured it out from the detective's words. Raped "another" woman. She felt her expression crumple even though she tried to hold strong.

He pulled her against him, stroking her back. Her cap's brim bumped against him and it fell to the floor.

No, she had to push away. She would fall apart right here, and he would continue to hold her and soothe her, and it felt so good because no one had done that afterward. Not even her mother, who had the same opinion the cops did: that she deserved it.

She managed to move out of his embrace by reaching for her cap. She shoved it onto her head, pulling down the brim. "I'm fine. It was a long time ago."

"What are you two talking about?" Darius asked. At least he hadn't gotten it.

That was the difference between them, one of many. She wondered if Darius just had no emotions, nothing to squash or tuck away.

"You'd better go," she said to Greer, her voice thick. "You don't want to be late for your shift."

He was looking at her, probably giving her the same look he'd been giving her since the bathroom incident. The Why are you shutting me out? one. She couldn't tell, thankfully, because the brim of her cap blocked his eyes from view. At least he'd also pushed back after the bathroom incident and gone on, continued dating. He'd been cool to her afterward. That's what she wanted. Even if it stuck a knife in her chest.

"I do have to go. Walk me out." He took her hand, giving her no choice but to be dragged along with him.

The air was even more chilling now that the sun was setting. He paused by his Jeep, turning her to face him. "Shea, that's why you hide yourself, isn't it? Why you freaked when I accidentally saw you naked." He pulled off her cap. "Three of them?" His agony at the thought wracked his face.

"I don't want to discuss this. I freaked because I don't want people to see me naked."

"Because you've got curves--"

She pressed her hand over his mouth, feeling the full softness of it. "I am not interested in discussing my curves or my past."

"You're hurting, Shea. It's why you shut down on me. I lost a friend once, because he was hurting, too. Holding in a painful secret. I left for a while, doing construction out of town, and when I came back, he'd taken his life. He couldn't take the pain anymore."

"I'm not going to take my life. I've survived, gotten over it--"

"You haven't gotten over it." He tugged at her oversized shirt. "You hide your body. All those years you lived with us, you hid yourself. Did you think we'd hurt you? Attack you?"

He had no idea. "Of course not."

"That's why you were so pissed about me seeing you. Your secret was out."

That he had right. "That's ridiculous." She took the opportunity to look down at her attire, to escape those assessing eyes. "This is just how I like to dress."

He took his finger and lifted her chin. "I suddenly saw you as a woman and not just the girl who's lived with us for the past few years. Seeing you as a woman changed everything."

She smacked his arm, which probably hurt her more than him. "Then change it back. I don't want you like that."

He slowly blinked at her statement. "Is it because of what happened to you? We can work through that."

"Is he bothering you?" Darius called from the front step.

Greer muttered something very impolite under his breath, and then said, louder, "Go back in the house. We're talking."

Darius started to wheel down the ramp. "Whatever concerns Shea concerns me, too."

"I'm going in now," she said, dashing off before Darius could get close. As she suspected, he turned around and followed her back to the front step. Greer stayed by his vehicle, giving Darius a pissed look. She was glad Darius had stopped that conversation. Way too close for comfort on many levels.

"I'm fine, Greer," she called to him. "Thanks for caring. Get to work."

"Did I interrupt a tense moment?" Darius asked once he'd caught up to her, watching Greer's yellow Jeep back out. "Looked like he was harassing you. It had to do with whatever he did to you, didn't it? Tell me, and I'll make sure--"

"It's none of your business." She stalked into the house to find something for dinner, anything to get her mind off what just transpired.

It was hard to think about spaghetti or leftover steak when one question dominated her mind: how could it be a coincidence that the man who had been mauled was her rapist?

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Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Excerpt from The Forbidden Lady copyright (c) 2002, 2012 by Kerrelyn Sparks.

Excerpt from Turn to Darkness copyright (c) 2012 by Tina Wainscott.

"Of Monsters and Men." Copyright (c) 2012 by Jocelynn Drake.

"The Ghoul Next Door." Copyright (c) 2012 by Terri Garey.

"Trick or Treathen." Copyright (c) 2012 by Caris Roane.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

EPub Edition NOVEMBER 2012 ISBN: 9780062238870

Print Edition ISBN: 9780062238887

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