When they pulled through the gate of the vampires’ big house, it was nearly four in the morning. Emma considered not even going to sleep, but there wasn’t enough coffee in the city to keep her awake all night and all day, too.
They didn’t park out front, but drove around to the back of the house. Several motion detector lights flooded the area as soon as they pulled into it, making it almost as bright as daylight. Vampire guards appeared out of the shadows, some of them whipping sunglasses on to shield their eyes. Miguel did the same, his eyes covered by nearly black wraparound lenses when he emerged from the SUV. He spoke to one of the other vampires, then strode over and opened the driver’s door of her sedan, which looked small and tattered next to the line of gleaming SUVs.
“The prisoner will be secure in the basement, my lord,” he said as Duncan slid out from behind the wheel. “Alaric has constructed a stockade.”
“And enjoyed doing it, no doubt.”
“Yes, my lord. He did comment that it had been years, and he hoped he remembered the proper ratio of bar tension.”
“I want the prisoner alive, Miguel, not strangled to a slow death. Not until after I question him anyway.”
Emma gave him a startled look. What would they do with their prisoner after they’d questioned him? The vampires seemed to avoid any contact with human police, but they couldn’t just let the man go, either. She frowned. For that matter, what would they do with Lacey’s killer when they found him—or them?
“What are you thinking, Emma?” Duncan asked, his voice right next to her ear.
She jumped, scowling at him. “We need to put a bell on you.”
Duncan simply smiled and placed his hand at the small of her back, urging her toward the door. “You could try. I’d probably enjoy it . . . the trying part, that is.” He opened the door and held it for her.
“So,” he continued, as they walked through a large kitchen. “What had you frowning so?”
“You mean besides you?”
He nodded easily. “Besides me.”
Emma considered making something up, but she really needed an answer on this one. “What will you do when we find them? The men who killed Lacey?”
They had reached the foyer below the stairs by then, and Duncan stopped, turning to face her. “It is the policy of the vampire community to work with the human police and authorities at all times,” he said blandly. It sounded rehearsed and Emma knew she was hearing the party line.
She met his perfectly human-looking eyes. “I didn’t ask what the policy was, Duncan. These are powerful men. If you turn them in to the authorities, they’ll be back on the streets in hours not days. I want to know what you’ll actually do when you catch them.”
He studied her for a long moment, then said, “The interests of the vampire community always come first.” She opened her mouth to demand he answer her question, but he forestalled her, saying, “There are some secrets we vampires never share. I have reason to believe Victor was . . . indiscreet, shall we say, with regard to certain of these secrets. Such knowledge, particularly in the hands of men such as these, represents a threat to my people, and I do not tolerate threats to my people.”
Emma listened, hearing not just the words, but what he was trying to tell her. She nodded. “So you’ll eliminate the threat,” she said, wanting to be perfectly clear.
“Yes.”
“I have no problem with that,” she said firmly.
His brown eyes sparkled. “I am relieved.”
Emma rolled her eyes, then gazed up in dismay at the many stairs between her and a comfortable bed.
“I could carry you,” Duncan said seriously.
She smiled regretfully. “Thanks. But I have a feeling I’d never live it down.”
“I wouldn’t tell anyone,” he said, placing a hand under her elbow and lending his considerable strength as they started up the stairs.
“I was talking about you.”
Duncan laughed out loud, then swept her into his arms and raced up the stairs. Before she’d even caught her breath, they were in the bedroom she’d used earlier and he was setting her on the floor, sliding her down his body so she felt every inch of hard muscle in his chest, his thighs. She caught her breath. His muscles weren’t the only thing that was hard about him.
Emma glanced up and found her gaze caught by the bronze glow of his eyes.
“Your eyes,” she whispered, raising her hand to trace the curve of his brow. “They’re glowing.”
“They do that,” Duncan murmured, his strong fingers flexing over her hips.
“But not all the time,” Emma said softly.
“When I use my power,” Duncan explained, one hand swooping almost to the curve of her ass as he tugged her closer. “Or when strong emotion comes into play.”
“Emotion,” Emma repeated softly, her fingers now playing along the softness of his mouth. “Like . . . desire?” She raised up and planted a quick kiss on his mouth. “Lust?” Another kiss. “Want?”
She again raised up, intending to give him another quick kiss, but he growled, holding her in place as he deepened the kiss into something hot and demanding. One hand rode up her back, his fingers twisting in her hair as he shifted the angle of their kiss, going deeper as his tongue delved into her mouth.
Emma moaned softly. He tasted of hot nights and dark secrets, though she couldn’t have explained what that meant. She just knew it was true. She wanted more. She wanted to bite his lips, to taste more of him. She reached behind his head and tugged the tie off his blond hair, shoving her fingers into the warm thickness of it, scraping her nails along his scalp.
Duncan snarled against her mouth, and Emma felt something hard and sharp. Her heart raced as she realized what it had to be. Fangs. She ran her tongue along their slick smoothness, and Duncan’s answering groan shivered through every cell of her body. Emma pushed harder, crushing her mouth against his. It was as if she couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t—” She felt a sharp prick on her tongue, tasted her own blood, warm and coppery.
Duncan’s fingers clenched in her hair, holding her so tightly it brought tears to her eyes, but she didn’t cry out, didn’t move as his tongue swept over hers, licking up every last drop. His erection, already a long, hard presence against her belly, grew impossibly harder, straining against the clothing that separated them. Emma fisted a hand in Duncan’s shirt when he broke their kiss, pulling him back to her with a small, hungry moan as she took his mouth once more.
“Emma,” he murmured, then swore softly when she nipped his lower lip angrily. She didn’t break the skin, but it had to hurt anyway.
“What?” she snapped, her body screaming at her to get him naked now!
“It’s late,” he said, his strong hands on her arms holding her away from his body when all she wanted to do was rub up against him like a cat.
“Late?” she repeated. “Late for what?” she demanded.
Duncan laughed, twisting away when she punched his gut in retaliation.
“Stop laughing and tell me what’s going on, you stupid vamp—” Realization struck. “Oh.”
Duncan rubbed his abdomen, as if her fist had actually done any damage to those rock hard muscles of his. He played it for all it was worth, though, until she rolled her eyes in mock disgust.
“So, how long is it until sunrise?” she asked, staring up at him and letting her desire show in her eyes.
Duncan groaned softly. “Don’t look at me like that,” he said. “This is hard enough.”
Emma grinned wickedly at the probably unintended double entendre, but, of course, he knew what she was grinning at.
“You’re bad,” he said. He let his hands run down her back to cup her ass, pulling her close enough to feel precisely how hard it was. “Just over an hour,” he murmured against her ear. “And Emmaline, my sweet, when I finally get to make love to you, I’m going to need much longer than that.”
Emma was suddenly glad he was holding onto her, because the wave of lust she felt at those murmured words would have knocked her off her feet. This was so unfair.
“What are you—” Her voice broke and she coughed slightly. “What are you doing tomorrow? I mean at night?”
“I’ll be here all night,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin as he kissed the tender spot just in front of her ear, then deposited a line of soft kisses over to her mouth.
Emma stretched upward, but he placed one final, hard kiss on her lips and stepped back. “You be careful today, Emma,” he said seriously, brushing her hair behind her ear.
“Promise me.”
“I will,” she said breathlessly.
“Don’t trust anyone,” he continued, then pressed a chaste kiss against her forehead. “And you should get whatever sleep you can. You’re going to need it later.” He winked, then spun around and strolled out to the hall and away.
Emma stared at the empty doorway, her body thrumming with unmet need. “Dammit,” she whispered, then reached out and closed the door firmly. The only lock was the one on the knob, which wouldn’t keep out a vampire. But she didn’t really expect anyone to disturb her. She glanced around the room restlessly, then checked her watch. If she went to sleep immediately, she could manage two hours at the most before she had to get up and go to work. But the odds of falling asleep right away were zero point zero thanks to a certain vampire. What was the male version of a cock tease anyway? She’d have to look that up later. For now she resigned herself to a caffeine fueled day and opened her suitcase.
A few hours later, Emma was wearing her uniform of power suit and heels, strolling down the marbled halls of Washington. Well, okay, she wasn’t actually strolling; that would have been too obvious. She hurried, just like everyone else did in this building, rushing about, sometimes with a pack of reporters and cameramen trailing after them, as if the fate of the world rested on their shoulders. She supposed sometimes that was true, but it was nowhere near as often as the politicians liked to think it was.
