I didn’t
want
to want this man, but fate had taken that choice from
me. But I’d be damned if I’d step into his arms without a fight.
“Why the pretense of a meal, Kye? Why not just save some money and attempt this seduction at one
of the regular clubs?”
“Because I rarely go anywhere public these days. In my line of business, that can be
dangerous.”
“Meaning there’s a contract out on your head?”
“Not yet, but I don’t believe in taking chances.”
“Then use a disguise. You’re well versed in the art.” I walked across to the table, poured myself
wine, then added a little acidly, “Actually, you’re pretty damn good at lying, too.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And why would you say that?”
“Because it’s true.” I took a sip of the wine and almost sighed in pleasure at the sweet taste.
Brown Brothers really did make a decent white.
Though I
didn’t
want to know whether he’d known it was one of my
favorites.
“It may be true, but I’m curious as to why you’ve suddenly mentioned it now.”
“Because you lied to me about your discussion with Mandy Jones.”
He smiled. The heat of it burned deep inside of me. “I asked her to report the dead vampire
simply because, if I’d reported it, you wouldn’t have come.”
“It could have been any guardian who was sent there.”
“Then I would have missed out on seeing your sweet face, wouldn’t I?”
I snorted softly. “Cut the crap, Kye.” I took off my cardigan, then grabbed the back of the chair
and pulled it out to sit down. “What do you want?”
“You.”
“You can’t have me.”
He merely smiled, and this time there was nothing sensual or heated about it. A shiver crawled
across my skin.
It didn’t abate the need, though. Far from it. My wolf was entranced and she wanted him—heat,
ice, danger, and all.
“You would do well to remember, Riley”—his voice was soft and without inflection. The wolf at his
deadliest—“that you have people you care about and I do not. I will get what I want, one way or
another.”
“You hurt anyone I love, and I will kill you.”
“No, you won’t. You couldn’t even shoot that baby vampire.” His expression was mocking. “Besides,
you love life too much to ever shoot your soul mate.”
Yeah, I loved life, but if he hurt Rhoan or Liander or Quinn, then I
would
shoot the bastard and worry about surviving the effects afterward. That he
didn’t know that showed how little he really understood me.
“I
will
have you,” he added softly.
Why?
was the question that surged to my lips, but I didn’t give it
voice because I very much suspected I already knew the answer.
It was the challenge I represented. Nothing more, nothing less.
Which meant that maybe my best option would be to give in to this heat and hope that once he’d
gotten what he wanted, he’d leave me in peace.
Of course, giving in might just cause additional problems, and I didn’t really need that right
now.
“You may get me physically. I certainly can’t deny the burn is there.” I studied him for a
moment, noting the lazy half smile teasing his lips, the determined glint in his eyes. And I
suddenly realized the challenge I represented went even deeper than I’d realized.
“But you don’t just want my body, do you, Kye?” I added slowly. “You want the complete package.
You want what I’m giving Quinn.”
He didn’t say anything, but I knew I’d guessed right. I gave him a smile that held a nasty edge.
“I’m telling you now, no matter what you do, you won’t ever have
that
. You may have my soul, but that’s all you’ll ever get.”
Anger flared briefly in his eyes but was just as quickly gone. Control was this man’s forte, and
he wasn’t about to lose it over a well-aimed barb. He pushed away from the mantel and strolled
over to the table. I shifted as he sat, crossing my legs and pointing them away from him so that
there was no danger of our knees meeting. I wasn’t sure my hormones could stand such a touch,
however light or accidental.
But he was close enough that his delicious scent and the heat of his body swirled around me,
teasing my senses and making my pulse race. I took a large gulp of the wine. It didn’t do
anything to help lessen the fires.
“I thought you might be hungry after your efforts outside Dante’s this morning, so I’ve already
ordered lunch,” he said conversationally. “I do hope you like roast lamb.”
I leaned back in my chair and wondered who he’d been talking to. Two of my favorite things
appearing on the menu was one coincidence too many. “Why were you at Dante’s this
morning?”
He gave me a smile that was all sharkish charm. “Following a lead.”
“Yeah, and tomorrow armies across the world will throw down their arms and live in
peace.”
“Let’s hope not. If everyone lived in peace, I’d be out of a job.”
“So what
is
your job this time?”
“Causing problems for you.” He glanced around as the door opened and a waiter entered. “Ah,
excellent timing. Thank you, Joseph.”
Obviously he came here a
lot
if he was on first-name terms with the
waiters, because they certainly weren’t wearing name tags. “You didn’t answer the
question.”
“Yes, I did.”
Frustration swirled through me, but I bit back my retort and gave the waiter a smile as he placed
a plate in front of me. The rich smell of lamb wafted upward, and despite my annoyance, my mouth
watered.
I picked up my knife and fork and dug in. I might not want to be there, but I sure as hell wasn’t
going to waste a delicious meal. Especially when I wasn’t paying for it.
Not with money, anyway.
The silence stretched between us. The only sounds stirring the air were soft music and the clink
of cutlery against fine china. But while we may not have been talking, I was all too aware of his
every move. Of the way his gaze rested on me as he ate. Of my own heart racing and the deepening
ache in my body.
Eventually I finished and slid the plate away with a sigh that was part pleasure and part regret.
The meal was finished. That just left the rest of it.
“Okay,” I said, picking up the wine and filling my glass again. “What is it you really want,
Kye?”
He smiled and leaned back in his chair. “Have you got any leads on the beheadings?”
I countered his question by repeating one of my own. “Why were you at Dante’s this
morning?”
He raised an eyebrow, his gaze briefly sweeping me, coming to rest on my crossed legs. He reached
out and snagged one foot before I could react, then slid off the shoe and tossed it to one side.
His quick, clever fingers began to knead my instep, and tremors of delight shot up my leg. I
licked my lips, torn between the desire to enjoy and the knowledge that
that
would only lead to complications I’d been fighting to avoid.
“I’ve been employed by a desperate husband,” he said softly, his gaze on mine as he continued to
rub and stroke my foot. “His wife is a blood whore, and it is endangering his reputation. He’s
hired me to track her down and take care of her.”
“By take care, you mean kill.”
“Not directly, as that would do as much damage to his reputation as having a whore for a wife. So
I shall arrange an accident that she will not survive.”
He said it so flatly, so casually—and I don’t know why I was surprised, but I was. Maybe
something deep inside—the stupid dark part of me that wanted this man so badly it ached—kept
blindly hoping that there was some spark of humanity in him. It would have made this thing
between us seem a little more palatable.
But I might as well pray for snow in the middle of a desert.
I tore my foot from his grasp and shifted my legs farther away from him. Amusement glinted in his
eyes. So did determination.
“You’ve just admitted to planning a murder. It happens, and your ass will be in jail quicker than
I could say ‘thank God.’”
He chuckled. It was a rich, mellow sound that ran across my skin. “There are, at last count, at
least a dozen rich young things attending that club of Dante’s. I know of eight who are married
and cuckolding their husbands, and three of those drink so much they are accidents waiting to
happen. You’ll never know my target from a real accident.”
Which wouldn’t stop me from trying if there was a sudden run of accidents among the upper class.
“Technically, they’re not cuckolding their husbands. Blood whores get off on vampires taking
their blood. The clubs cater to that, not sex.”
“Most clubs
do
adhere to the rules. Some, like Dante’s, do not. Half
the upstairs is given over to private rooms, and the whores pay a hefty price to be fully
serviced.”
“And that’s how you’re hoping to catch your client’s wife? You have the rooms bugged and are
recording events?” It also explained why he was so horny. Voyeurism was a part of the wolf
culture—and a huge turn-on for most of us.
“Yes, but she hasn’t been there for a few days, hence my hanging about catching all your
activities.”
“So you were there on stakeout when Grant Haven was beheaded?”
“You already know I was. I reported—or got that woman to report—the crime.”
“And yet you claim you didn’t see anything.”
He picked up his empty wineglass and toyed with it idly, twirling it around his fingers as he had
the knife in the warehouse. “You’ve never actually
asked
me what I
saw that night.”
Fucking hell…
“Kye,” I said acerbically, “what the hell did you see
that night?”
He was silent for a moment, continuing to toy with his glass. I watched the movements, the
quickness of his fingers, and wondered what those fingers could do if they played across my
flesh.
“Perhaps,” he said softly, “it’s not so much a matter of what I saw but what I know.”
“What
I
know is I’m barely resisting the urge to haul your ass
downtown, find some nasty murder to pin on you, and throw your smart mouth in jail.”
He merely smiled. “Grant Haven was a member of the Melbourne vamp council. The rumor is that the
vampire who was beheaded and incinerated two days
before
Haven was
also a council member.”
“And Henry Gateway?”
“I haven’t been able to find confirmation one way or another, but I suspect he might have been,
too.”
I frowned considering him, considering the information. “Why would three men from the local
council be visiting a place like Dante’s when there are more upmarket venues
available?”
He smiled. It was a luscious, hungry thing that swept across my senses as warmly as a caress. “As
much as there are humans who do not wish their addiction known, there are also vampires who feel
the same. Besides, Dante himself is a member of the council. Maybe they felt safer
there.”
Yet they obviously weren’t. But I guess being on the council at a time when the general vampire
population was extremely unhappy about the clubs and the laws surrounding them
might
just make them targets, especially if they were seen as hypocrites for
patronizing the blood whore clubs. So was that what was going on here? A bit of retribution from
the ranks?
Maybe the fact that all three murders happened near Dante’s was some sort of warning to him.
Maybe he’d pissed the wrong person off—which, according to Jack, wouldn’t have been
hard.
Still, if that were the case, why attack the other councilors in the first place? Why not go
after him directly?
“How could you know all this?” I said, taking another sip of wine and feeling the mellowness
grow. A dangerous situation, given the company. I put down the glass and added, “And why were you
even there in the first place? We both know your monitoring equipment wouldn’t be anywhere near
Dante’s.”
And even if he’d cut into the feed from Dante’s own security cameras, none of them had been
pointing into the parking lot.
“I’m interviewing all Dante’s regular clientele in an effort to get a clearer picture of my
target’s behavior.” He shrugged, a casual movement that didn’t match the intensity of his
gaze.
“From what I saw in the club, that’s a pretty useless exercise. The whores care for nothing more
than their next fix.”
He shrugged again. “Leaving nothing to chance is a rule I live by.”
And something I’d do well to remember. “How can you be sure the three victims and Dante
are—were—members of the local council?”
“I’m a siphon, remember, and stakeouts are boring. Let’s just say that, when I’m in the club, I
amuse myself by seeing how much information I can steal from a vamp’s mind before he becomes
aware.” He contemplated me for a moment. “Haven’s shields were nowhere near as strong as
yours.”
Starke had told me that Haven had been on vacation and that his first night back was the night
he’d been murdered. Meaning either Kye or Starke was lying. But which one? Right now, I had no
flaming idea.
“Did you actually see anything the night Haven died?”
“A car taking off in a hurry. A blue Ford, tinted windows. Couldn’t see the driver but I did get
the plate number.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a slip of paper, and slid it across the
table to me.
I ignored it for a moment, meeting his gaze, holding it. “Did you kill Grant Haven?”
“No, I did not.” There wasn’t a flicker in the amber of his eyes. Nothing to indicate a lie. Part
of me wanted to believe him—did believe him—yet I knew this man was a professional killer who
probably could lie his way out of hell itself.
There was one way to find out for sure, and yet I couldn’t force myself to take that step. Aside
from the fact that he was a siphon and able to steal the use of my shields, I didn’t really want
to get into his thoughts and discover what he really felt about me.
I was too much of a coward to face the reality of
that
. It was far
better for my own emotional stability to keep thinking that this was nothing more than a
challenge—a game—to him.
The waiter came in through the side door and began clearing the table. I picked up the paper,
taking care not to touch Kye’s fingers. His writing was neat, careful—much like the man himself.
I folded it up and slipped it into my purse.
“Do you wish dessert?” the waiter asked, once he’d finished clearing the dishes.
Kye glanced at me, eyebrow raised. I shook my head. “No, thanks. I really have to go.”
A smile twitched Kye’s lush lips, but all he said was “Just make it the usual. Thanks,
Joseph.”