One Last Kiss

ONE LAST KISS

“You’ll do what I say,” she commanded. He looked stunned and pleased, his nostrils flared with each deep breath. “I never took you for dominant,” he said, still teasing her breasts with his hands. Pleasure echoed through her, starting from the tips of her sensitive breasts and ending deep in her belly. “Neither did I,” she answered, forcing his hands above his head where she looped them through his belt and used a stick driven into the sand to secure him in place. Not the best device for keeping him immobilized, but she had a feeling he wouldn’t fight her. Still maintaining eye contact, she unbuttoned his shirt and ran her tongue along his hard chest, circling one nipple, then the other until the flat discs turned into small, hard peaks. She played with his pebbled flesh, tasting the salt of his body while she listened to him grunt. He smiled at her, his fangs longer, his lips barely able to close over them. A hybrid erection, she thought, though she felt the real deal against her belly and purposely dragged herself down his body until she felt the length of him between her breasts. In silence he continued to stare, his breaths sharp hisses between his teeth. Tilting her head, she inhaled the scent of his cologne and skin, the smell of a man aroused. The musk of him drew her lower, her lips brushing along his belly until her

chin skimmed along the thick curls of hair between his legs. His cock stood thick and rigid, plum-colored and dripping a thin line of semen at the head. She kissed him from tip to the base, breathing him in as she touched his large, ruddy sac with her tongue. With her gaze locked on his, she traced the ridge of his cock and licked the crown of his penis, tasting the first salty drops. The smell of his seed made her pussy contract, the taste of him hardening her nipples and quickening her pulse…

ALSO BY GABRINA GARZA Adeno The Catah Circle Circle Of Friends: All Wet The Countess Of Suburbia Hot Phoenix Nights Jax and the Giant’s Bean Stalk River Of Time: Dreamwalker Sex Between Strangers Take Me Out Wide Open Spaces

ONE LAST KISS BY GABRINA GARZA

AMBER Q UILL PRESS, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com

ONE LAST KISS AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2008 by Gabrina Garza ISBN 978-1-60272-198-2 Cover Art © 2008 Trace Edward Zaber

Layout and Formatting provided by: Elemental Alchemy

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

For Jill, who took me seriously when I told her I needed a substitute for blood and didn't seem that alarmed. .

ONE LAST KISS

PROLOGUE Alicia Alicia took the in-flight magazine from the pouch and adjusted her complementary blanket. She had the air turned up full blast, prepared for a stuffy plane as passengers crowded the aircraft with bags in hand and children in tow. At least she had a window seat to make her feel as though she were free over miles of Florida and Louisiana wetlands and down the Mexican coastline. With a midday flight, the first of several layovers and typical delays, she wanted nothing more than to watch sunlight glint off the Atlantic, glimmers of untold voyages and lost jewels beneath the depths of blue—or 1

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maybe fantasies of Johnny Depp in a pirate costume for the next three hours. She settled back in her seat and hit play on her mp3 player. “Now, before we begin, make yourself comfortable and clear your mind. The body cannot function without being allowed a level of comfort, and now is your chance to find your utmost level of comfort and concentration. We call it completion.” The pleasant male voice filled her earphones as she closed her eyes and ignored the screams of an infant somewhere at the front of the plane. “Totally relaxed,” the voice said. “Forget everything and think of only yourself.” She crinkled her nose, wondering how she could forget everything and still think about herself. Wasn’t she part of everything? Maybe not the most important link in the chain of humanity, but she had to count for something. Was this some sort of existential self-help tape? “Anything is possible,” the man said as terrible synthetic new age music began to play in the background, accompanied by the eerie cry of whales. “Whatever you want, take it. Don’t think about it. Just relax and concentrate.” She sighed. Did anyone ever explain an oxymoron to this guy? Thank God she had the receipt for this CD in her wallet because, as soon as she returned home, she planned to return it. “Concentrate on your goals in life. What is it you want? Say it out loud and believe in yourself. Don’t be afraid, because fear is counteractive to your relaxation and your completion. Feel complete. You deserve it.” 2

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Her eyes popped open. A little girl with chocolate brown eyes and bangs down to the bridge of her nose stared back at her. “Can I sit by the window?” the little pixie asked. She hit pause and removed her headphones. “Umm…” “Please, I really want to sit by the window.” “And so do I,” she wanted to tell the kid, but she couldn’t deny those wide eyes and pouty lips. Her mother had trained her to give up everything, no matter how much she wanted it. Selfishness wasn’t allowed in the Rodriguez house as long as your name was Alicia. Her brother Benito could do whatever he wanted while her sister Hermina could do whomever she wanted. As long as the oldest child came out halfway normal and successful, the other two could waste away and live like three-year-olds for the rest of their worthless lives. Someday maybe they’d miss her. Without so much as a sigh of aggravation, Alicia wiggled her way into the middle seat and let the girl shimmy past, where she promptly set all of her belongings under the seat and fell asleep not more than sixty seconds after she sat down. Perfect, she thought, a narcoleptic kid in my window seat. But she wouldn’t let this ruin her dream vacation. So what if she didn’t have a window seat on the way down? There was always a chance to have her correct seat on the trip back to Maine. Resigned to her fate, she hit play and heard the pleasant male voice once again coax her into answering aloud. “What do you want in life?” he asked. “Reaffirm it to 3

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yourself by speaking aloud.” With the kid beside her fast asleep and the jet’s engines revving up as the plane prepared to take off, no one would ever hear her, which was exactly what she wanted. With a deep breath, she relaxed her shoulders. “I want—” “Very good.” She blinked. The damned cheery voice hadn’t given her a chance to state her goals in life, her dreams of what she wanted. Thirty seconds had passed and she hadn’t managed to conjure up concrete ideas. “Now that you’ve said it aloud and believe in yourself, you’re ready to begin your new life and journey. Go ahead, my friend, dance one more dance, sing one more song, and if you’re the adventurous type—which you know you are—go for one more kiss. What have you got to lose?” She leaned back and turned off the recording. The plane roared down the runway and took off, giving her a jilt in her belly, but she didn’t bother to brace herself. She relaxed her clenched fists and closed her eyes, feeling farther and farther away from completion. “I’m already losing,” she mumbled.

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CHAPTER 1 Michael He hadn’t died, not in the stop-of-the-heart, worms-up-thenose sense. With his eyes fixed on the horizon, the straight line between darkness and dying day like the edge of a blade, he took a breath. The ocean still smelled of salt and dead fish; the crisp breeze still carried with it a sense of panic and a rush of pleasure. Not quite alive, not quite dead. His existence had become twilight, always lingering on the edge, never quite daring to end what had begun six years ago. He remembered a veil 5

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released in the breeze, long slender fingers and jagged nails, the face of an angel and red eyes of the devil. Mujer. The Spanish word for woman. An entity he wasn’t quite sure existed…until he saw her again. Michael… He ran his tongue over his teeth and ignored the murmur of his name spoken in the deep voice of a seductress. There were medications to cure most anything these days, but nothing could keep Her out of his head. She made him want to die, want to end what proved an endless, vicious eternity. No, wait, he told himself. Pure breeds had an eternity, hybrids scavenged for what they could claim, picking through the unwanted. At first he’d been as savage as She. Sometimes, as he sat in the park at night, he’d experience the rush of a hunt before the prey came into view. With his acute hearing and magnified sense of smell, the churn of blood thrummed through him, giving him a taste in the back of his throat like a drop of vintage wine before the bottle was uncorked. Instinctively he licked his lips as if his virgin feeding were still hot and damp on his flesh. Dread accompanied the usual thrill, and her name came to mind just as swiftly as the newspaper article of her death. In the back of his mind, he could still hear the shrill whine of police cars as they signaled the funeral party through the intersections, the look on the officer’s face as he passed Michael and shook his head. Unintentionally he’d caught the man in blue’s thoughts. That poor girl. That sick fuck. 6

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If only the officer had known. If only the officer hadn’t traveled alone and unarmed from his girlfriend’s house after a night of too much partying. He should have known better. Michael… “No,” he said through his teeth, swinging away from the ocean, from what he’d hoped would be his solace. Nowhere provided comfort. No one knew how it felt to stand on the edge, ready and willing to plummet with no end in sight. His foot caught on seaweed washed onto the shore and he stumbled, righting himself before he collapsed. A dark shape passed through the night, wading through a backwash of stars spilled through the sky. Dine, Michael. It’s so easy. All you must do is find one. No one will notice. Eyes closed, he clutched his temples, applying enough pressure to give him a headache for the rest of the night. You cannot cure it. The night tasted different on his tongue and in the back of his throat. He paused, swallowing hard until he could tell for certain he wasn’t alone. The air tasted bitter yet sweet, the smell only a woman could possess. A feeding, a feast delivered to him in the night. Temptation, he thought. An apple with the snake attached. “I know I can’t cure it,” he said under his breath. Parts of him came alive faster than he’d expected. At least he knew in the primal sense he remained alive. “But I can sure as hell fight it,” he mumbled. 7

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CHAPTER 2 Alicia Moonlight glinted off the waves, a hush of ocean tranquility and salted sea air. Two days on the Mexico coast and she’d hiked every inch of seaside cliff until she was well on her way to having the thighs of a racehorse. Her digital camera remained in her hotel room as she recorded everything to memory, knowing if she didn’t quite catch the details this time around she could try again the next day. This had been Alicia’s dream retirement spot fifty years into the future, the place where a lifetime of hard work, debt, 8

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and commitment would finally offer a reward. No one else in the Rodriguez family had attended—much less graduated from—college. Her brother had ruined his life with gangs, her sister had a litter of children growing up on welfare, and her parents made excuses for them every time they opened their mouths. But Alicia had excelled, and for that she went unnoticed, slipping out of their minds the moment she left home and started her own adventure. “Here’s to life.” She lifted her bottle of tequila to the full moon and tipped the bottle back, spilling liquid fire into the sand and then into her mouth. With no lime available, she bit back the sensation and plunged the bottle into the soft white sand. Barefoot and alone, she searched the vast expanse of seaside paradise and found herself pleasantly secluded from the rest of the resort. No poolside waiter checking on her; no concerned hotel staff pitying the lone thirty-something taking a solo vacation. She wondered what they thought, and for the first time tears pricked her eyes. This trip was for her, a bank accountdraining, senseless trip she’d bought a ticket for on a whim with no plan of action. In one last attempt at bravery, she pulled the rubber band from her hair and inhaled the warm evening breeze. Her thick black tresses lifted from her sunburned shoulders, brushed against her cheeks and caught on her eyelashes. “I’m Alicia Rodriguez, and I don’t give a damn.” A smile tipped her lips. “I’m a cheap imitation of Rhett Butler.” 9

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Fearless, she lifted her summer dress—the one that came to mid-thigh and hugged her hips and breasts, plunged to reveal more than anything she could wear at the office—and tossed it to the ground. More than once she’d turned and found a man sipping a beer or reading a book staring at her in that dress, checking her out, clearly thinking, I’d like to fuck her but I’m married, engaged, whatever. She fit into the whatever category herself. It suited her to remain single now, maybe picking up lovers like seashells and tossing them back into the waves when she finished with them. No hearts broken, nothing lost, nothing gained. What a fucked up mantra. “I’m Alicia Rodriguez.” She unhooked her bra and allowed the straps to slide down her shoulders. “You kill my father. Prepare to die.” Yet another line stolen from a movie, another reminder of her unoriginal life. Her nipples tightened at the sense of freedom, to the danger of being caught, even though everyone on the beach partied at the luau. Nakedness took her mind off the flaws within her, the disease that spread through her hopes and dreams. She stepped toward the water, felt it lap up her shins to her knees. Beautiful darkness, she thought, a cradle of life and death. She didn’t know if she wanted to float or if she wanted to sink. “Hello,” she said, reaching out the waves that pelted her thighs and dampened the hair between her legs. She’d taken to 10

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going commando while on vacation, another thrill to her otherwise boring life. “My name is—” “Alicia Rodriguez,” a voice from behind her said. “Why don’t you try Star Wars next?” She crossed her arms and spun around, nearly losing her balance in the surf. “What?” she asked, which seemed more sensible than, “Who the hell are you and why are you here?” “Luke,” he said, breathing in and out, his voice a deep but fairly pathetic version of Darth Vader. Straight, white teeth gleamed in the night as he smiled at her, apparently amusing himself. “I am your father.” “Oh. Right.” The dark-haired stranger bent and retrieved her dress, eyeing the bottle of tequila before he gazed at her again. Shoulder-length hair attempted to escape the ponytail he’d pulled it into, the wind helping strands blow free. Bermuda shorts rested low on his hips, but a short-sleeved shirt revealed nice arms and large, square hands. If she had to have her own Peeping Tom, at least he wasn’t bad to look at. “Put that down,” she ordered, nodding at her dress. “I could hand it to you. I promise I won’t look.” “I think you’ve already received an eyeful.” “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have intruded. I didn’t realize you were…you know.” He glanced over his perfect, broad shoulders at the glimmer of lights strung up around the poolside. From a distance it was difficult to see anything more than a thin strand of light cutting through the darkness. “The party ended up being pretty lame. I thought I’d be alone out 11

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here, but apparently you had the same idea.” As promised, he turned his head away and stuck his arm out, offering her the rumpled dress. She paused, took in the veins in his hands and arm, the smooth, lean muscle beneath a dusting of dark hair and flesh. He looked like a businessman unleashed for a conference—probably the type who ran five miles in the morning and answered to his boss via teleconference while he watched porn on the hotel pay channels, which he conveniently billed to the office. “Sorry to disappoint,” she mumbled. She rolled her eyes at her cynical attitude. The guy hadn’t done anything wrong. He was just out for a walk. Geeze, Licia, give him a break. “What’s disappointing about a woman on the beach?” he asked. “You just said you wanted to be alone.” “No, I said I thought I’d be alone.” As fast as she could, she wriggled into her dress and tied the sash into place, forgoing her bra, which she hoped he wouldn’t see. “That has to be some sort of world record for a woman dressing,” he said with a chuckle. Dark, seductive eyes creased with amusement as he faced her once more, making no attempt to hide his wandering gaze. She stood with her toes wet and curled in the sand, her arms crossed to hide her hardened nipples. The tequila had to be surging through her bloodstream. There was no other explanation for why she grabbed the bottle lodged in the sand 12

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and stepped toward him. “Do you want some?” “I don’t drink,” he answered, pausing to smile at her again. “Tequila.” “What do you prefer?” He lifted his chin. “I used to drink beer. And the occasional Bloody Mary.” “You seem more like the sophisticated wine connoisseur.” “Then I’m giving off the wrong vibes,” he answered smoothly. His shoulders relaxed and he licked his lips. “Honestly, I haven’t had a drink in a while.” “Good for you.” She nodded, her mood turning playful. “I haven’t had a drink for about three minutes.” He frowned and watched her closely, and as if by some sort of invisible string, she started to fall forward. With one quick step, he caught her in his arms and took the bottle from her. “Easy,” he said in her ear. Despite the warmth pulsing through her, she didn’t feel comfortable leaning on a total stranger. The best way to calm her fears was to find out who he was and what he did for a living. “My name is Michael Lucas,” he answered. “Please don’t hurt me.” Either he hesitated or she passed out. The night seemed darker, her thoughts more muddled than she’d thought possible. “Are you going to kill me now?” 13

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“No, I’m not going to kill you.” “Are you sure?” Again he hesitated. “I manage a large facility in the upper Midwest where we help people. You have nothing to worry about.” Had she asked him where he worked? Suddenly the lines between her thoughts and what she said blurred. She blinked and nodded, her head resting on his shoulder. It became impossible to keep her eyes open. “Michael,” she said, her tongue not quite working. “I’d like to go to sleep now.” “Close your eyes.” His lips were smooth as butter against her ear, his words velvet in her mind. “Would you like me to carry you back to your room?” “Yes, I think I would.” All of her pain and frustration ebbed and her body went limp and helpless. The casual thought that he could be a killer passed through her mind, quickly replaced by an unknown, irrational confirmation that he wasn’t psychotic. He was Michael Lucas. He was going to help her. “Michael,” she said again. “I’m not an alcoholic. I’m just very…very unhealthy.” “There’s nothing wrong with being tired. Rest your head on my shoulder. I’ll carry you back to your room, Alicia.”

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CHAPTER 3 Michael “I know what you are,” he said once he was sure she couldn’t hear him. She fell into his arms, naïve and helpless to her plight. Thank God her head fell forward, her chin touching her chest. If he’d seen the column of her neck and the pulse of her blood beneath her skin, he wouldn’t have thought twice. He would have acted on forbidden instinct, taken what she inadvertently offered. He would have regretted it. Alicia breathed gently against his neck and chest, her hand 15

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involuntarily curling around his collar. Her warm, smooth skin brushed against the wiry hair on his upper chest and made him forget his desire to feed. He’d had other needs denied as well, stronger and more human reactions, undeniably charged for her. It had been six years since he’d last felt more human than hybrid. Six years since he’d looked at a woman and noticed the shape of her body and the color of her eyes well before he’d longed for the coppery taste of her life flowing into him. Maybe, he chided himself, it was because he’d seen her naked and male desires outweighed every other facet of his being. No man would have resisted a selkie washed upon the Mexican shores, the rounded swell of her ass, her toned legs and small feet partially hidden beneath the sand. Even the way her hair blew in the breeze made him want to touch her. And now he held her in his grasp, his balls aching at the very thought of her and what he wanted to do with her. Blood had become an addiction, but he coveted a woman’s body, all the curves and sighs, the warmth and sweet fragrance. For every inch of welcomed softness, however, jagged edges dug into him. She wasn’t well. Like eighty-proof to an alcoholic, he’d wanted her despite knowing better—or perhaps because he wanted to prove to himself that he’d indeed vaccinated himself against his disease. But that wasn’t quite possible. There wasn’t a vaccination for hybrids, just delicate remission. One relapse wouldn’t kill him. It would kill her. With a trembling breath he managed to untangle his 16

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emotions from hers and release her from his mind. The buildup in his head ebbed, the pressure of a thousand thoughts, none of them his own, set free. She could sustain him just as quickly as she mentally drained him. “You’re lucky I found you first,” he mumbled, rearranging her in his grasp as he started toward the hotel, where the poolside party had dwindled into a few loud drunks. He’d managed to gain her trust, which hadn’t been difficult considering the bottle of tequila as her social lubricant. By morning she’d scold herself, look back on the night and all of the what-ifs. By morning he’d be gone, watching her from afar in the safety of his hotel room, his ears pricked for the sound of her voice, his lungs filled with the faintest whiff of perfume. He’d take her back to her hotel room, tuck her into bed, and be done with her. If she had any sense at all, she’d cancel the rest of her vacation and return home immediately. “Michael,” she groaned. The tug of her consciousness made him pause and grasp her tighter, squeezing her to his chest, cradling her in his arms like a life-sized doll. “I’ve got you,” he said in her ear, his lips brushing against her temple. It had been too long since he’d held onto another, but no man could forget the touch of a woman, the contour of breasts and the curve of belly, the valley of a feminine back and the apex of silky smooth thighs. For now, for one night, for one dangerous moment, he had her to himself, an addict with the drug in his grasp. 17

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CHAPTER 4 Alicia Michael didn’t walk. He glided through the darkness, past the party that had come to an end and the clusters of people crowded around votive candles crammed with cigarette butts. Alicia remained vaguely aware of time and location as though she lingered on the edge of perception, a step away from both dreams and reality. She nestled her head against his strong shoulder, settled into his grasp and forgot why she’d originally traveled to Mexico. “Are you comfortable?” he asked. His voice moved through her, a liquid pleasure in her 18

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veins. She had no desire to move, let alone speak, but she couldn’t risk being rude. “Yes. Thank you.” The door to her hotel room slid open, the air cool and inviting. Against the far wall the air conditioning unit burped and thumped, begging for service. She could definitely relate. “Close your eyes,” he beckoned. “Don’t think. Just rest.” She did as she was asked, felt his breath hot against her face as he gently lowered her to her bed and trailed his hot, broad hands down her arms, then her legs. Her mind gelled, muscles relaxed until she glided along into semiconsciousness. In the back of her thoughts she heard the sound of water running and footsteps crushing the thick carpet. “Where are you, Michael?” she asked. “Right here.” His breath returned to her face, warm and sweet. Cool, damp water trickled between her toes, which she spread wide. He used a wet washrag and caressed the soles of her feet, his fingers gently pressing against her heel and sensitive arch. “You have sand on you.” Alicia swallowed hard. “You don’t have to—” “Yes, I do. I want to.” She believed him, felt unexplained desire in his touch. Her feet arched back, then relaxed as he massaged her ankles and between her toes. Everything about him felt so damn good, better than she could have ever imagined. He spread her toes, his hands warm and coated in applescented lotion. Strong, steady fingers rubbed the arch of her foot, made circles on her heel and the back of her ankle. 19

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Normally she didn’t like people touching her feet, not even for a pedicure, but he knew exactly what she wanted and how she needed it done. Each insistent stroke made her sink into the mattress, made her wish he was touching her all over, not just her feet. Warm, soft lips touched her thigh, a hot, damp tongue teasing her. Teeth scraped against the sensitive spot on her inner leg, and he sucked on her flesh until she groaned. Her hips lifted, pumping toward invisible pressure that continued to prod at her, seeking entrance even though she remained fully clothed. “More,” she panted. “I need more.” He never asked her to part her legs, never crawled up her body and settled between her thighs, but he’d entered her. She felt the thickness of him, an invasion she wanted to feel deeper and deeper—yet she couldn’t explain what she felt or how it existed. It didn’t much matter as long as he didn’t stop. “Michael,” she breathed. “Oh, Michael, I need you.” The muscles in her vagina contracted, and she realized she was in the middle of orgasm, a powerful, unexplainable climax that clenched her and refused to let go. She shuddered, groaned as it continued, a long, endless pleasure that made her sob. “Michael,” she whispered on a breath, wanting more of him, reaching out to touch him, any inch of him. She parted her thighs as though it would encourage him to give her what she needed. But he wasn’t there. 20

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Her eyes popped open, greeted by blinding, tunnel-of-light brightness that made her think she was moments from death. “Michael?” She sat up, a damp towel at her feet. He didn’t answer. The air conditioning kicked on, but it didn’t cause the shiver that ran down her spine. With her legs still spread wide open and her nipples tight and painful, she wondered if he’d ever been there. Alicia closed her eyes and placed a pillow over her head. She inhaled, the spicy scent of cologne and male musk greeting her. “What the hell did I drink last night?” She rose to her feet; the brutal pulses of a headache slamming between her temples threatened to topple her. Barely able to keep her eyes open, she stumbled forward, grabbed hold of the curtain edge and pulled it to the right, blocking out the sun, which had apparently settled directly outside of her window. She stood for a moment, tilted back on her heels with her hand against the wall for balance, and tried to remember what had happened. Nothing felt right, not that in her life the planets ever aligned. She’d grown accustomed to a little quirk here and there, but this was different. Normally a night of tequila drinking left her horny, but this morning she felt satisfied—not that she’d complain. Her stomach rumbled and kept her from climbing back into bed until noon. Nothing made her crankier than a missed meal, or at least that’s what her mother had always said. Once she showered and pulled the least wrinkled clothes from her suitcase, she exited her hotel room, wearing a wide-brimmed 21

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hat onto her sensitive eyes. The moment the door shut behind her, she froze, the sound of distant waves and birds greeting her. In silence, another presence greeted her, one she felt in the bead of sweat traveling down her spine and the wisps of her dark hair that had come loose from her hair claw to tickle her shoulders. Someone watched her. Her gaze flitted back and forth, searching the windows from the adjacent building, the bushes, and the slats in the white fence that surrounded the walkways. Nothing. Her hands clenched, heels lifted from the ground in preparation to run like hell to the hospitality house. Instinctively she turned, her arms catching in the rose bushes climbing up a nearby trellis. Thorns tore thin lines up her forearms, which hurt like hell but didn’t produce more than a drop or two of blood. She gingerly rubbed her arm, too distracted by the heavy feeling in her gut to pay much mind to her injury. “Michael?” she called out to her mystery lover. It seemed ridiculous, and she forced herself to slide the room key into her back pocket. Squaring her shoulders, she strolled down the stone path as though nothing had happened and her heart wasn’t slamming against her ribcage. Everything would be fine as soon as she sat down and consumed half the items on the restaurant’s menu. Full belly, calm mind. If that wasn’t already a saying, it should have been.

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CHAPTER 5 Michael The threat of morning light drew him away from the window just as Alicia ventured out for the day. Even through the closed window he could smell the scent of her, the fear pumping through her veins, extracted in microscopic portions through the drops of blood on her arm. He licked his lips and turned away from her, reaching his trembling hand toward the hotel room dresser where he kept his wallet, cell phone, passport, and twenty-two bottles of medication and supplements designed to keep his cravings from becoming a gorging. 23

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Absently he toyed with one of the bottles, running his hand along the unlabeled amber surface, much as he’d stroked the inside of Alicia’s ankle. He’d joined with her in the most sensual way possible, adding slight physical touch to their mental connection. Somewhere buried in her subconscious lay all of her desires, every fetish she’d never admit, each longing she’d managed to deny. His balls ached again, much as they had the previous night as he listened to her sigh and watched her body writhe, her legs spread for him, her fingers tangled in the sheets. Like the strings of an instrument he’d plucked at her, stroked her thoughts until he revealed what she needed—a safe, innocent thought with explosive results. He’d forgotten how much he enjoyed tuning into his partner. It had been years since he’d locked into a woman’s body and experienced, at least in part, her emotions leading to orgasm. One of the few benefits was the ability of a hybrid to find pleasure in his partner’s needs, and Alicia had given him more than he’d anticipated. If she wanted the sensitive flesh between her toes sucked, he’d grow hard the moment he touched his tongue to her. If she wanted to be tied up and watch as he removed her clothes with a dagger, he’d hold the blade to her skin and slice each thread, listening to the rip of fabric and her breaths turn harsh. Every single person had secret desires, and hybrids could sense most of them. With Alicia it wasn’t all black and white. Her mind was a hundred varying shades of gray, and he liked 24

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the challenge. But it had taken its toll on him, and he popped open the pill bottle and shook out three green capsules with MRX-V stamped on the side. Normally he took one pill per day, two if he’d been at the lab longer than usual. Alicia called for three pills…three attempts to keep himself in line. He almost considered a swill of wine to wash them down, but alcohol had compromised the effectiveness of his medications. That was the part that sucked—no pun intended—no meat, no alcohol, no more than thirty minutes of sunlight at a time. He could live without the meat and the hours of worshipping the sun, but damn he wanted a cold beer. Pizza, baseball games, and the Super Bowl were better with a bottle of beer in hand. With a sigh he peeled off his T-shirt and browsed through his closet, knowing his appetite would soon return. As soon as he found a dark blue, button-down shirt, he dressed in front of the mirror—thankful he still had his reflection because he usually buttoned it wrong—and reached for his cell phone just in case the office called. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, his hands cold and numb. Alicia was long gone, but he still went to the window, felt the sizzle of sunlight on his outstretched arm and knew it would blister. He ignored it and stared straight ahead, catching a glimpse of darkness from the corner of his eye. Cloaked in shadows, She glided, there but not there, existing but not living. Rather than words, She transmitted a single picture of a 25

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lion dragging a dead impala into the bushes, its neck torn open, legs dragging along the dusty savannah. She’d found Her prey.

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CHAPTER 6 Alicia Alicia rounded the corner, following the hand painted signs toward the restaurant and bar where the hotel had hosted a beach buffet the previous night. A man on a ten-speed nearly flattened her, but she jumped back in time to miss him and the woman following close behind, her features shrouded in a long dress and black scarf, eyes hidden beneath sunglasses. “Hello,” she said. “Nice day, isn’t it?” The woman nodded, but didn’t speak, and despite the dark sunglasses she seemed to look through Alicia until she disappeared around the corner. 27

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“Shit,” she mumbled, unsure of what had gotten beneath her skin. Here she stood on a hot, sunny day—the kind perfect for sunbathing topless on the secluded beach, and all she wanted to do was hide. Nerves frayed beyond repair, she marched toward the smell of grilled burgers and loud, live music until she reached the outdoor patio. Several people sat outside beneath umbrellas, struggling to stay grounded against the gusts of hot air coming from the mainland. She pushed past a waiter and a gray-haired man in shorts slung way too low under his pot belly. He ogled her, even though he was probably her dad’s age, from behind sunglasses as he rubbed his stomach, his gesture nauseating and suggestive. Somehow she managed to slip past him and into the airconditioned bar where soccer played on the television sets. Blinded by the contrast from bright late morning sun to the dark, hidden interior of the bar, she felt her way to a booth and hoped the waitress saw her walk in. In another hour she’d be a skeleton in a sun hat and cute shorts. “Hiding from someone?” Alicia’s shoulders dropped. If granddad thought he’d get lucky with her, he’d soon find himself sorely mistaken. “Look, I just want to—” “How are you feeling this afternoon?” His silky, deep voice registered in her mind, and her breath hitched in her throat. As if he’d tethered her with words alone, she leaned forward and watched his tall, lean silhouette sit across from her. 28

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“Michael.” She exhaled, his name forced from her lips by the memory of his touch, of the way he’d brought her to life and unexpectedly unraveled her. She wanted to lean forward, feel the warmth of his breath against the V of her neck, his lips against hers as he said her name. “In the flesh.” Amusement rang in his voice, and she squeezed her thighs together. She couldn’t see his face clearly, but she thought he smiled at her, and she wondered if he knew the effect he had on her, the unreasonable way she ached to feel him, this stranger she’d met on the beach. “I guess that’s a good thing. You know, better than a ghost.” “Do you believe in ghosts, Alicia?” If he suddenly vanished like he’d done the previous night, she’d probably faint dead in her seat, completely unnoticed in the dark of the restaurant. “I believe there are a lot of things in the world we can’t explain.” “I’ll take that as a yes.” “Take it however you want.” Then take me in every way possible. He tapped his fingers on the rutted wooden surface and sent vibrations through her palms lying flat on the table. She swore she felt the precise rhythm rattle through her, changing the course of her blood beating through her veins. Michael leaned toward her and inhaled deeply, as though he suddenly smelled something. He didn’t speak for a long while, and she stared at him, attempting to make out his face, 29

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hoping his eyes searched for hers. Deep in her chest, her heart ached. Not enough time existed in the world to bring her closer to him. Physically, yes, she could find satisfaction, but she longed for a little more. It seemed crazy to her even as she dwelled on it, but she wanted to taste the sweetness of shared ice cream, the sensation of holding hands in the rain, all of the storybook crap she’d been fed growing up, but had never experienced. “Feeling better today?” he asked. “Swell.” His feet moved beneath the table, his sandals tapping hers. Startled, she uncrossed her ankles and hit him again, this time in the shin with the tips of her toes. Wiry hair brushed against her and she flattened her palms on the table to settle herself. The last time a boy had her this nervous she’d been fourteen and at a middle school dance where all the girls in her class sneaked away one by one to make out with boys under the bleachers. Sans the bleachers, this didn’t feel much different. Loud music played and she couldn’t see a damn thing. Michael rested his foot between hers and slowly moved it up and down to the rhythm of music outside. Her ankle suddenly became the most sensitive place on her body, and she swallowed, afraid of what he might do to her and even more afraid he’d stop. The sensation slowly inched its way up her inner thigh until she could have sworn she felt him between her legs, the murmur of a kiss, the tenderness of soft lips forming a damp, fiery path up her body. The heat of his touch forced her to part 30

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her thighs, invite him inside of her, this stranger she didn’t want to deny. The moment she shifted, the feeling waned and she held her breath, desperate to experience him again. She leaned forward and reached out to him, her lips parted in question. The moment she finished eating she had to return to her hotel room, dig through her medication, and reread the side effects. It’d be just her luck that Michael would turn out to be a hallucination—a damn fine hallucination, but still not the sort of thing she could share with friends and family. He issued a sideways glance accompanied by a devilish, knowing smile. “Do you care if I join you?” “I think you just did join me.” “I guess you’re right.” He leaned forward and clasped his hands together, allowing his knuckles to brush against hers. His eyebrows rose, his eyes twinkling with mischief and promises that made her hope to God he was real. “I was hoping for a bite.”

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CHAPTER 7 Alicia A waitress with the perkiest breasts south of the border dropped two menus onto the table along with a votive candle. Alicia watched as she purposely leaned over the table, her dark hair in her eyes and her breasts in Michael’s face. She took her time to light the votive, flicking her thumb against the lighter, then shaking it as though she had no idea why it wouldn’t work. Feigning frustration, she turned to Michael and pouted a moment before she tried again, this time bouncing her gigantic boobs in triumph when she managed to do what cavemen had done thousands of years ago. 32

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Michael, however, didn’t appear to take notice of the waitress or her ample cleavage, which stared back at him with two erect nipples refusing to be ignored. He nodded once to the waitress, then kept his eyes on Alicia and smiled. “To drink?” the waitress asked, rolling the final word off her tongue. Alicia tried to smile and ignore the jiggling boobs as she ordered a margarita, while Michael ordered iced tea. “Tea?” the waitress said as she leaned toward him and squeezed her boobs together in a way that had Alicia gawking. They seemed awfully perky for being beach balls, and she couldn’t decide if they were real or really expensive—or why Michael could ignore them while even she looked on. “Are you currently out of tea?” he asked. “No.” “Then why is there a problem?” She flipped her hair until the uneven tips managed to brush just over her nipples, which were still attempting to pop out of her shirt. “You usually order something…how would you say? Stronger.” “Do I?” He handed her the menu without glancing in her direction. “You do,” she said through clenched teeth. “Like perhaps a Bloody Mary.” Michael tensed, his eyes creasing at the edges. He leaned forward and extended his hand toward Alicia, but didn’t touch her. “Tonight must be different.” “Full moon perhaps?” 33

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“Or maybe just my healthier lifestyle. Lately I’ve been feeling as though I need more antioxidants in my diet.” The waitress glared at him, her dark eyes cold and emotionless, almost like a doll’s eyes. She looked at Alicia for a beat before she turned and started to walk away. Just as Alicia started to speak, the woman returned and stood behind Alicia’s chair. Long, slender hands brushed her hair aside and startled her, though she barely moved. “You have such lovely hair,” the waitress said as she twirled a strand of Alicia’s hair, careful not to tangle it with her long, dark red fingernails. Each stroke soothed Alicia until she wanted to close her eyes and enjoy the light scalp massage and the precise timing of the woman’s movements. “Michael has always fallen for women with dark hair, even if the rest of them is, well…different.” “¡Mujer!” the bartended yelled, spouting off several words in Spanish Alicia didn’t catch as she blinked and attempted to clear her mind. The bartender squinted at her, a twisted smile on his face. “Lo siento,” he said, raising his hand to acknowledge her before he glared at the waitress, who shrugged and straightened her apron. Alicia’s mouth fell open, but the waitress sauntered off, her short skirt leaving little to the imagination. She seemed to blow off the bartender, who waved his white towel at his lazy worker, while he glanced over his shoulder at Michael and shook his head. “Well, that was interesting,” Alicia said once they were 34

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alone. Michael shrugged, still not looking in the waitress’s direction. “She wanted it to be a little more interesting, I’m sure.” “Why do you say that?” “It’s in her personality.” “You must know her well.” The flood of triumph turned to a spike of jealousy. He gave a tight smile. “Not that well. And really I think she might find you a lot more appealing than she finds me.” Her eyes widened. “Oh.” A heated blush of complete horror crept up her neck and face as she thought of Michael watching her turn from her normal bronzed complexion to bright red. Even though it was dark, she imagined herself like a glow stick the cops used to direct night traffic. “Oh, I thought she was just being friendly.” “Yeah. She can be very friendly, especially when her husband isn’t watching.” She craved more details, but the afternoon crowd arrived in droves of hungry vacationers, most with wide-brimmed hats, ugly shorts, and the scent of sunscreen following them. The television sets by the bar were turned up full blast for the bartender to watch the soccer game, which seemed to be his first priority. “I wanted to thank you,” Alicia said at last. “For?” “Last night.” With the aid of the votive, she saw him smile, his eyes 35

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dark and mysterious, as though he wanted to reveal more about himself than he should have, yet she couldn’t quite grasp him—and the longer she stared at him, the more she wanted to grasp him. Most of the men she met were like pieces of cardboard. It took only a few minutes to understand their depth, or lack there of, and once she got to know them, they bored her. She needed more to keep her interested than a seemingly normal exterior. But Michael remained a puzzle, giving her pieces of himself that didn’t seem to fit together. Mentally she attempted to put him together, though the more she focused on him, the less she understood about herself. She wanted him more than she should have, needed him more than seemed possible. When she thought about what he could do to her, she didn’t need to understand. Instinct took over, primal desire to take what she could get and not analyze the situation. There was no time for prudent thought or second-guessing the situation, no time for wondering if she’d end up with a broken heart. She just wanted and that seemed to be enough. “Which part of our current relationship are you thanking me for?” he asked. Her cheeks flushed at the word “relationship.” Encounter seemed more fitting, but she liked the way he put them together, making them more than strangers. By the end of the night she hoped to know him very well, every single inch of him if she had her way. 36

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“Where you, um, helped me back to my room.” And managed to bring me to climax by washing the sand off my feet. He inhaled again, which she was beginning to think was because she’d forgotten deodorant or hadn’t brushed her tongue well enough. A faint smile graced his lips, giving him an expression of satisfaction, like a cat that had been given a saucer of milk. “It was my utmost pleasure.” Sweetheart, she wanted to say, that’s only the beginning of pleasure… Michael cleared his throat, his eyes narrowed with a curious expression on his face that made her conscious of her lewd thoughts. “Are you here alone? In the resort, I mean, since I clearly realize you’re sitting at the table with me right now.” Some girls knew how to say the right thing—or at least stop after they’d said enough of the wrong things. Alicia had the grace of train wreck. “Yes, I needed some time away from work.” “What do you do?” “I became the quality control manager of a laboratory six years ago. We handle tests in a three-state region in the upper Midwestern United States.” “Really? You don’t look old enough. I thought it was illegal to let children work, let alone manage laboratories.” His eyes creased with a warm, easy smile. “I’m thirty-two, but I appreciate the compliment. My company has become my 37

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life and passion, though I thought I should see if absence makes the heart grow fonder.” He paused, looking her over with casual interest. Somehow he managed to pull off sexual hunger without the overkill of desperation. “What about you? What do you do when you’re not quoting movie lines?” She shrugged, hating that he put the focus on her. The more she knew about him, the less she had to think about her life. “Alicia,” he said, his tone playful, “if you plan on interrogating me, you better believe I want to explore you to the fullest extent.” I’m dying, I’m afraid, and I don’t want to be with anyone right now, at least not in a way that matters. If you want the truth, I’m running away, and I know in the next step I’ll hit a wall. “Pretty much the same. Work and more work in the cubicle farm.” She blurted out her words, afraid she’d trip over her lie. “You’re tied up most of the time?” Oh, for God’s sake, now she couldn’t stop thinking of what it would be like to have him blindfold her, tie her ankles to the bedposts, and kiss her from her ankle to the insides of her thighs. What she wouldn’t give to spray him with RediWhip and eat it off every hard, thick inch of him. Michael took another deep breath and reached across the table. His fingers stretched out, nearly touching the back of her hand before he curled his hand around the candle holder and turned it in a circle. 38

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“You don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself tonight. Have I said something to upset you?” “No, I’m having a wonderful time. I’m just hungry.” “That makes two of us.” He licked his lips, and she imagined him kissing her with that wide, beautiful mouth. Wondering if he tasted as good as he looked made her salivate, her mouth wet and her lips, her other lips, soaking wet. Crossing her legs did nothing to relieve the growing tension. She needed action to complete what he’d unintentionally started. “Well, then,” she said in her most seductive voice, “I’d better find our waitress so we can, uh…yeah.” His lips parted as she slipped from the booth and sauntered across the dark restaurant, glad her eyes had adjusted enough to see the tables and chairs randomly scattered throughout the crowded space. With the help of the television screen’s bright glow, she spotted their waitress and guided her back to the table where Michael patiently waited, his gaze steadily on her as she ordered fajitas. A group of college age boys walked into the restaurant hooting and hollering as they ordered their cervezas from the bartender. They formed a half-assed conga line and danced their way out of the restaurant to a loosely recognizable version of the Beatles’ “I Wanna Hold Your Hand” played by the live band. “Do you dance?” Michael asked. “Ever seen that episode of Seinfeld with Elaine dancing?” He brought his iced tea to his lips and paused, his 39

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eyebrows nearly shooting into his hairline. “You can’t be that bad.” “And why can’t I?” “Because you wouldn’t be dancing alone.” His hand slid over hers, his touch surprisingly warm and soft. “Show me.” Embarrassed, she laughed to herself. “If you’re a masochist, you’ll love the broken toes I give you.” Without a word he pulled her to her feet and swept his arm around her back. His hand rested low on her spine, his fingers splayed, grasp steady. In the meager light her eyes locked on his just as they had the previous night, and she paused, her breath caught in her lungs, her lips parted. The rest of the bar disappeared until only heartbeats and music remained. They began to move, pelvis to pelvis, his rock hard chest against her heaving breasts. She wondered if he felt her nipples harden, wondered if he knew how her stomach had tied itself in knots and her womb pulsed with a rhythm all its own. Like a marionette, she met him step for step, music in her veins, a pulse of electricity that kept her going. She recognized the Enrique Iglesias song despite the slowed down tempo and the female singer, who didn’t know all the words in English. Michael focused on only her, his dark eyes gentle and coaxing her to give a little more of herself to him. With each sway of their bodies, she relaxed, fitting into his arms as though she’d always belonged with him. Fear and sadness crept into the corners of her mind, threatening to crowd out the euphoria she experienced with 40

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him in silence, only their breath and body heat exchanged. He pulled her closer, rested his cheek against hers, and ran his hand down her spine. Relaxation overcame her and she no longer felt her feet on the floor. Darkness swirled around them, an endless cascade of shadows replacing booths and tables. With every turn she caught a glimpse of the mirrored wall behind the bar. She bit her lower lip, imagined watching their reflections float across the room. Her hair lifted from her shoulders, her sleeves and blouse billowing around her as they moved faster, met each beat of the song. It had morphed into something she no longer recognized, but she barely noticed. Michael’s hand slid under her shirt and held her firmly just below the ribs. She wanted him to thumb her nipples, reach down into her shorts and feel how wet he’d made her. Michael breathed deeply, his head tilted down, his lips against her shoulder, then the crook of her neck. He sucked on the sensitive spot below her jaw and her fingers tightened on his shoulder, silently requesting more. As if he knew how needy she’d become, he cupped her breast. Her toes skimmed across the wooden floor, her leather sandals dangling from her feet. “Am I dreaming?” she asked. “No, you’re not dreaming.” He kissed her neck, ran his tongue along her jaw until every inch of her flesh ached for him. Rationality threatened her perfect, inconceivable moment with him. She imagined her mind had detached from her body, which would probably 41

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be found crumpled up in a hotel bathroom, sort of like Elvis. “Then what’s going on? Why aren’t my feet on the floor?” “You’re with me.” She squeezed her eyes shut, needing but not quite wanting him to explain. She’d always enjoyed magic shows as a child, the sleight of hand creating a dazzling image, the way she could allow rationality to ebb while she watched the impossible. But she wasn’t a child anymore. This couldn’t be happening. “I still don’t understand.” “You will.” “When?” “That’s up to you.” He grabbed hold of her hair and tilted her head back. Eyes closed, she allowed him to kiss and suck on her neck and ear, and her soft groans turned louder. He pushed her legs apart with his knee and stood between them, which made her realize they’d stopped dancing but continued to move. She braced him tighter at first, then felt the hardened muscles of his leg at the apex of her thighs. She paused, her breath hitched, the pressure just enough to make her sigh. “I need you,” she murmured. She glided up his thigh, the friction between her legs making her shiver as she reached the bulge in his shorts. His hand slid into the back of her shorts and between her legs, a startling yet welcomed sensation. As if he thought he might hurt her, he petted her softly, 42

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glided against her swollen lips and teased her with shallow thrusts. Unable to stand it a moment longer, she unzipped him, feeling his cock jump as her fingers stroked him. If he planned to tease her, she’d repay him with light, gentle strokes up and down his shaft. Starting from the root, she ran the pads of her fingers up to the head, paying special, slow attention to the sensitive ridge until he hardened and twitched. She waited until he tensed and his breath turned harsh, then she placed her fingertips around the bulbous head and rubbed, spreading a large bead of his arousal over him. He hardened in her grasp, his smooth, hot flesh belonging to her. Gently she traced around his testicles, feeling them tighten as he grew increasingly aroused. She petted him, treated him the same way he’d treated her until she couldn’t help but smile. Seducing him proved as much fun as being seduced. His lips found hers and he whirled her around, a rush equaled only by the turn of a roller coaster down the highest hill. Her stomach flipped, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. “I’ve got you,” he whispered. “Don’t be afraid.” “I’m not afraid. I want…never mind.” “Tell me.”

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CHAPTER 8 Michael “I can’t.” “Why not?” He wondered if she felt the heavy, cold presence in the room, the undead bearing down on them, suffocating them. She remained at a physical distance though mentally She always stood near, even when thousands of miles stood between them. “Because they’ll…hear me.” Patrons filled the stools at the bar, their attention occupied by the television sets. Regardless of his own mental capabilities, he doubted any of the old men situated at the bar 44

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would have noticed them, not that he cared who watched. “Whisper it to me.” She drew her head back and looked him in the eye, her lips pursed. “No.” He already knew what she wanted, but he needed to hear her say it. Fear was useless and made her compliant to his control. Any vampire or hybrid could give a flick of a wrist and mind fuck a human. It took no skill or any amount of patience, like shooting fish in a barrel. Michael had never once asked for anything to be handed to him. Just as with the laboratory and his work in hybrid analysis, he liked a challenge when it came to women. “What are you afraid of, Alicia?” She didn’t answer him. For a moment he thought she’d turn her face away and the moment would be lost, but she met his eye. Her tongue rolled along the inside of her cheek, her gaze sullen. “I just want you to touch me,” she said, her voice a barely audible quaver. Such a simple desire, but not an easy one to voice, especially for her. He already knew she wasn’t accustomed to asking for help or telling others what she needed. She served those around her, a fantastic best friend to call in the middle of the night, a respectful, obedient daughter, a selfless sister able to sacrifice money, car, or time for her brother and sister. She wouldn’t elaborate or say it again if he asked her to speak louder, with more confidence behind her words. She wanted, a simple, meek request—and by her expression she 45

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expected her needs to go unfulfilled. He tightened his grasp around her and smiled, satisfied with her answer. “Then try not to scream.” Pressing his lips to hers, he held the back of her head and roughly tugged at her hair, angling her to meet him in a hungry, insatiable kiss. She released a groan, her body shaking in his grasp, her pelvis pushed against his. They rose higher, the blades of the ceiling fan cutting through the air mere inches from where they hovered. When she tensed further, he caressed the nape of her neck, gently told her to relax and allow the impossible to happen. He unbuttoned her khaki shorts and fingered the elastic of her panties, ran his hand along the curve of her perfect, tight ass. She gave a soft groan and titled her hips forward, her legs inching apart, her toes skimming along the tops of his feet. Slowly he moved his hands around to the front and rubbed her between the thighs, feeling her hot and damp beneath the thin cotton. Rubbing harder, he felt her clit against the tips of his fingers. Her legs shook each time he circled her. Fuck me, she said without words. Fuck me with your fingers. Pinch and slap my clit until I can’t breathe. Suspended, he tilted her back and wiggled her out of her shorts, allowing them to bunch at her knees as he pulled aside her panties and combed his fingers through the thick, short patch of hair between her legs. He stole her breath with the thrust of two fingers into her, felt her muscles clench tightly around him. His dick twitched in response, his balls painfully tight. Her desire perfumed the 46

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air around them, and he gulped, tasting her salty flesh at the back of his throat. Just as she wanted, he caught her engorged clit between his thumb and forefinger and rolled it, applying enough pressure to make her scream out. She gasped for air, her legs trembling with the overwhelming sensations he knew filled her. Connected to her mentally and physically, he fed off her emotions, felt the distant tug of pleasure melded with pain. If she could fight past the initial discomfort, an unknown world of release existed only for her. Slowly he relaxed his grasp, then pressed again, harder than before. She quivered, her voice reduced to soft, unsteady murmurs of “Please, oh, please.” Releasing her, he slid his fingers back and felt how wet she’d become, her lips swollen, legs closing to keep him inside of her. He pumped her several times, feeling her squeeze tightly around him as her breaths turned harsh, her voice shrill and desperate. Her fingers tightened around his arms, her hips moving against his, grinding against his cock. If she screamed the way he wanted, they’d come together, stimulated both in mind and body. This wasn’t just for her, it was for both of them. A hard, body-numbing orgasm they would share through her body. He braced himself, fully expecting the shock of pain before the flood of pleasure. Gently he tapped on the hood of her clitoris, a steady vibration that forced her legs to part. Using only his fingertips, he continued, faster and harder until she writhed and groaned, 47

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begging him to stop, begging him to continue. She couldn’t bear it a moment longer, couldn’t bear to be without it. He slapped her clit and listened to her suck in a breath. Giving her no time to recover, he did it again, harder than before until she sobbed, her emotions like static in his mind. One more time, he told himself, just once more and she’d be there. They’d be there. He rubbed her gently, gave her a moment to recover before he started again, a gentle tempo turned violent and desperate. Suddenly he didn’t know who groaned, who experienced pleasure and who experienced pain. Conflicting feelings resonated through him as he plunged his fingers into her, felt the welcomed heat of her body and the hard pulse of her vagina around him. He need her more than ever as she came down from her climax. His dick stood hard between them, his mental climax unable to relieve his aching cock and balls filled with cum. Hovering over her, he pressed the tip of his cock between her thighs, rubbed as gently as he could against her recovering clit. “Should I tell you what I want?” he asked hoarsely.

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CHAPTER 9 Alicia More people entered the restaurant but didn’t seem to notice them, even when her soft groans turned into desperate grunts. His teeth grazed her flesh, pressed down on her pulse until she gasped. Out of the darkness, their waitress appeared several feet away. Her gaze seemed distant, but Alicia knew the woman saw them. Something about her expression burned, seethed with a heat that made Alicia’s toes curl. But Michael made her forget the rest of the world. His grip on her tightened until she could barely breathe, until she ached for him to her very core and wanted to scream for him. He 49

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looked her in the eye, his gaze hardened and unrecognizable. Fearing he’d release her, she wrapped her legs around his hips, pressing the head of his dick to her clit until they slid against one another, this time pleasure void of pain. The pressure made her tremble, the heat of him weakening her ability to think rationally. “I think I know,” she breathed. Michael gripped her hips, allowing her to glide against him. Once she set her own rhythm, he released her, allowing her legs hooked around his hips to keep her anchored to him while he reached between their bodies and teased her slit, the perfect combination of steady pressure and rhythm. Back and forth he petted her, fingering between her ass cheeks and the warm, wet heat of her tight pussy. She felt her sphincter pucker each time he circled the rim, teasing but not quite entering. “But you’re not done yet,” he growled in her ear. “You have much, much more to offer.” Letting her clit rest, he slowly fucked her with two fingers, twisting his hand as he slid inside, magnifying the intensity building within her. Normally it took her at least an hour before she could climax, but now she was on the verge of her second orgasm in what seemed like only minutes. “Oh, Michael.” She trembled inside and out, the quake of a woman who hadn’t been touched like this in months, at least not by anyone flesh and blood. She had her toys and enough batteries to buy stock at Duracell, but this was better than anything she had shipped in a discreet box. 50

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Michael pulled his fingers from her and brought them to his lips, licking the taste of her off his flesh while she continued to thrust against him, wanting his hard, thick penis inside of her instead of his fingers. The room around them flickered to life, a strobe of humanity that stopped and started like her television when a train roared past her apartment window. She swore a man with his shirt balled up in his hands looked her dead in the eye, but in the same heartbeat he turned away, then glanced back as though he didn’t quite know what he’d seen. She tensed, wanting to catch her breath and restore her inhibitions, but she throbbed deep inside, ached for physical pleasure. What did it matter if this stranger watched her like an animal through the glass? Somehow she knew he couldn’t touch her, couldn’t find her from the darkness. It eased her mind and readied her body for the orgasm she felt revving full force through her body. She held her breath, riding against Michael and the promise of a hard, satisfying climax. Her muscles tensed, her vagina clenched tight as though he were buried inside of her. In response to her silent needs he pinched her clit and forced her to press against him, helpless in his arms. “Michael, please,” she begged. More people walked past them, oblivious to their uninhibited performance. She stared at them, waiting for their dance to catch their attention and pull even the most prudent toward a free show, but no one glanced in their direction. It was as though they’d become specters now that they’d found 51

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their unmistakable groove. They could do whatever they wanted, and it excited her to think she could see them, but they couldn’t see her. It didn’t matter how loud she screamed, they’d never know she existed, at least not right now. Under different circumstances it would have scared the hell out of her, but in Michael’s arms it felt like freedom. She threw back her head and sighed as he nipped at her, his teeth pressing down almost hard enough to break skin. Her fingers dug into his shoulder, bracing herself for the pain of waiting and the overwhelming pleasure tingling between her legs. It hurt to hold on a moment longer, the agony of longing she hadn’t experienced in months. She’d had her share of sexual encounters, but nothing like this, not out in the open, so close to the edge with nowhere to hide. “Please don’t stop,” she begged, amazed at the strength in her words, the urgency in her voice. He gazed at her as though he hadn’t expected her to speak, but determination flashed in his eyes, telling her he wouldn’t stop, not until he’d satisfied her. Complete, bone-numbing satisfaction no man had ever provided, the kind she read about in books. Before she registered the first thrum inside of her, she gave a weak, strangled scream of pleasure. Her body jolted, his dick rubbing hard against her clitoris, his fingers inside of her as she tightened the muscles in her vagina, hugging onto the only part of him inside of her. 52

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People around them paused, aware in some distant part of their psyche that something wasn’t quite right. They sensed a presence—or at least that’s what she assumed they felt. One by one they turned away, glancing around the room and at the people nearby who’d also slowed a step in search of the unexplainable. “Do you want them to watch?” he asked. “I want you to myself,” she answered. Her breathing turned into a harsh, pleasurable struggle as she braced herself for what she thought would be a fast ending. Moans left her lips, soft cries turned louder, more urgent as the hard, paralyzing waves of climax stayed with her, on top of her. Her body rubbed against his, her nipples tight and painful as she squirmed, wanting him to open her up in a way she felt every other guy in her life had missed. Eyes closed, she leaned back and pressed her throat to his lips, feeling his teeth graze her while he milked the last pulses from her. Somehow she understood he’d only allow her a moment to recover before he did it to her again, this time harder and longer than before—and hopefully with more than his fingers. “Michael,” she whimpered. “Don’t worry,” he murmured, his warm, smooth lips accentuating every word. “I won’t bite you.” She managed to open her eyes and look into his as she ran her fingers through his hair. His cock still pressed against her, still ready to please her again. “What if I want you to bite me?” 53

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“That’s not a good idea,” he said, his tone harsh. He grimaced as she continued to push her pelvis against his, and she noticed his mouth looked different. His eye teeth appeared longer, sharper than they’d felt against her flesh. “Michael?” she questioned. Her feet hit the ground with a hard thump and one of her sandals fell off. She blinked twice and found herself sitting in the booth across from him, his left hand clasped over hers. Reaching up with a trembling hand, she touched the indentations from his teeth on the side of her neck. “What just happened?” He stirred a shallow bowl of salsa and avoided her gaze, his body rigid and brows furrowed. “Something I shouldn’t have allowed.” “Tell me.” Michael reached for a chip, but she shoved the bowl of salsa away and felt it splatter on the back of her hand. He eyed her for the first time since she’d found herself seated across from him. “I said tell me.” He reached past her and grabbed the bowl, which he held in his spread fingers like a spider’s legs clenched around a cauldron. His gaze dropped, fixed on the basket of chips. “You’re like a drug to me, Alicia. Each breath of you, each time I feel your pulse, makes me want to grab hold of you and never let go. The touch of your hand, the look in your eyes…you’re the most powerful addiction I’ve ever experienced.” 54

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“Should I be flattered or creeped out?” He flashed a smile, his teeth white and straight. The moment his lips parted she felt her gaze drawn to his eye teeth, which had lengthened like the canines on a dog. “I can control myself,” he said, though his voice trembled. “But I’ll need your help. Ironic, don’t you think? Seeking assistance from the one person you crave? It’s a cruel, cruel fate that binds us, Alicia, but I wouldn’t want it any other way. It’s been a long time since I’ve wanted what I can’t have.” “Are you…sort of rejecting me?” She curled her fingers around her paper napkin. “Because I just wanted to hook up with you once or twice and that’s it,” she continued, hoping he wouldn’t think he’d found a needy, possessive loser. “Or for the week if you’re here until Friday.” Yep, that was pathetic. His chin dropped, his eyes penetrating into hers. Something about his gaze hinted at fear, but she didn’t know if she read him right, or just wanted him to be as vulnerable as herself. “That’s what I do,” she mumbled, refusing to go down gracefully. “I go on these wild, uninhibited vacations and bang as many men as possible before I go home and put another notch in my bedpost. Call it what you want, but it’s just my style, I guess. Don’t think you’re anything special to me because I know I’m nothing special to you. That’s life, right?” Oh, God, could she dig this ditch any deeper? Just shut up already! “You’d be just a number, a completely unimportant numeral…thingy—” He slowly dipped his chip into the salsa as she watched 55

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and wished he’d dip his damn chip into her freaking salsa. With his lips parted, he bit into his chip and wiped his mouth with his napkin. The high she’d felt in his presence began to dull, though she didn’t feel threatened or apprehensive. As though he fed her emotions, she understood he didn’t want to hurt her, and if he did, he wouldn’t waste his time with dinner and dancing—he’d have gone right for the duct tape and hatchet. “Just a number?” He mulled over the idea and selected another chip. “That’s right. Just another notch in my bedpost, sweetheart.” “You do realize I haven’t actually notched your bedpost.” He stared at her with his dark, endlessly captivating eyes. “Yet.” Yet. She dwelled on the promise a little too long, felt her nipples react to his words and her vagina clench in phantom desires. Damn it, he was doing it again to her, making her want to jump over the table and hump him like a horny dog. No man had ever made her jump to attention like Michael did merely by making eye contact. “I’m speaking hypothetically, of course.” He leaned forward and searched her face. She felt as though she’d seen him before, a lifetime ago, maybe every lifetime, if she’d believed in reincarnation. Hell, she didn’t believe in a lot of things, but he’d tested her boundaries already. 56

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“We both know that isn’t true. You’re not looking for a conquest. You’re not that type of woman now and you never have been.” “How would you know?” He ignored her feisty attitude and sat back, which started to piss her off. His foot tapped inches from her until she felt the rhythm dance up her leg and wind its way around her hips. Somehow he managed to seduce her without ever touching the good parts. She didn’t know if she should be fascinated or frustrated. “I know what you feel inside, Alicia.” If he wanted to challenge her, he’d find himself up a creek. If there was one thing she was known for, it was her tenacious attitude. No one beat her at board games or trivia, she made sure of that. Ain’t no way in hell he’d turn all soulful on her and act like he felt as though he’d known her his whole life. “I think I’ve heard that line before, Romeo.” “You can’t describe it,” he continued without blinking. Her breath momentarily caught. Since the moment she’d first seen him she hadn’t been able to describe what she felt. “Describe what?” “Why you don’t want to leave, even though under normal circumstances you would have dead bolted the lock to your hotel room. No matter what, you don’t know why you can’t bear to get up from this booth and walk away. You want to know what will happen next even if it frightens you, because you can’t decide what’s more alarming, knowing how it will inevitably end or taking a little slice of life you’re not sure 57

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exists for you. There isn’t an easy answer. There might not even be a correct answer, which gives you nowhere to turn— and the last thing you want is to feel as though you’re trapped.” “That’s ridiculous.” She failed at laughter and began to tear her napkin apart. Her heart hammered, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t possibly stand and walk away. “How am I trapped?” “Do you want me to answer? Is it better if you reaffirm it to yourself?” He didn’t allow her a moment to stutter a reply. “For months you’ve only thought of the end, never a new beginning. Nothing exists in terms of years, does it? You can barely convince yourself you have months left.” “Shut up.” Terror raced through her, but her body remained frozen. He’d described precisely how she’d felt since the moment the doctor had sat her down in his office and gave her his best grim expression. No cure, no remission, no hope… His bare foot stroked her ankle, toes brushed against the inside of her leg. The contact stopped the shudder before it began. Tears pricked the backs of her eyes at the absolute truth in his words. For months she’d gone through the motions of life and waited for it to all end. He didn’t play mind games, he read her, knew her as no one else did. “It doesn’t matter what they told you. We both know this won’t end here, Alicia.” 58

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CHAPTER 10 Alicia “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” Her voice trembled with rage and fear. How dare he talk to her as though he knew everything, as though somehow she’d slipped and let him into her life. This was supposed to be an anonymous week away, a time to forget what waited for her north of the border. “Alicia—” “I don’t have time for this.” “You could have more time than you think.” He grabbed her by the hand, his touch like a magnet, a strange and 59

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perilous invitation she wanted to accept. “But it’s complicated.” “Complicated? Story of my miserable fucking life.” Alicia stumbled to her feet, surprised her legs remembered how to work when the rest of her threatened to shut down. With tears clouding her vision, she barreled out of the restaurant. As if it would help, she brushed her hair back from her eyes and blindly trudged forward, walking into occupied chairs and tables before she finally found the exit. For a moment she paused, the darkness behind her giving way to twilight. It felt as though he’d stolen thoughts out of her mind and then had the audacity to devour the rest of her day. “Son of a—” She started toward her room, then reconsidered and darted toward a bike trail. The sun had faded into a burning orange and pink sunset, the beach alive with yet another poolside party and band performing traditional Mexican music for the tourists. No matter what, she had to get away from the activity, the cacophony of life she had no desire to join. The cool night air whispered through her hair and crawled across the nape of her neck and her bare arms, making her tremble. Screw cold and darkness, the perfect recipe for a morgue. She had no intention of returning to her room. Cold, pain, and the reality of night around her became a necessity. One last time, she told herself, one last perfect evening that no one could steal from her. Not doctors, not family, and sure as hell not Michael. 60

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With each breath she still smelled him, with each lick of her lips, she still tasted him. As if she could clear away all traces of Michael, she brushed the back of her hand across her lips, but nothing helped. He clung to her, there but not there, inside of her but not inside of her. “Why is he doing this?” she muttered to herself. More importantly, she wanted to add, how had he discovered anything about her life? She’d been very careful not to blog about her illness or mention it on her MySpace page. From the first day when one doctor in the fleet she’d acquired told her they could do nothing for her, she’d decided not to make her burden her family’s burden. Her parents had enough to worry about with their youngest son, who would never do anything but smoke and drink his money away, and her sister who had the litter of cute kids she couldn’t afford. Her eyes slowly closed, and she swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that always seemed to threaten. The sun still burned in her memory, an imprint left behind her eyelids. She could still see the fishing boats coming back to shore, the lone church steeple across the bay. A painting of it hung in the hotel lobby, probably created by one of the local artists fifty years ago when the white paint had been freshly applied to the chapel and the garden carefully tended. In her romantic fantasy she’d thought of riding a rented bike down the path and picking the weeds, clearing the ground of the abandoned structure. But it felt like doing too much of a favor to a god she no longer believed in. With her arms wrapped around her body, she sat on the 61

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still-warm sand and stared at the twigs and debris washed up on the shore. The skin on her arms pricked, her instincts telling her to turn around. “Why won’t you leave me alone?” she said through her teeth. Michael didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to say a word. He stood behind her, probably watching her with acute interest, his hands in his pockets and his feet buried in the sand. She could already see him with his dark hair rustled by the breeze, his shirt taut against his chest. “I said—” She whipped around and found a stray dog, its black tail curled, its black ears straight up as a sign of curiosity she recognized well. A long, pink tongue lolled from the side of its open mouth. Tourists fed the strays and gave them water, despite the warning from hotel staff. At one time she’d dated a veterinary student who often went to the islands and spayed all the female dogs he and his mentors could reach in a forty-eight hour period. She wondered if anyone had taken care of this dog as he plopped down a few feet away and continued to watch her, probably waiting for a bite to eat or a drink of water. “If I had anything at all, I’d give it to you,” she told the mutt. It inched closer until she could feel its hot breaths on the back of her hand. Good Lord, her mother would have killed her for touching a stray animal, but at this point she figured it didn’t matter if she contracted rabies. 62

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“Hey, buddy,” she said, risking a light pat to the back of his head. The dog nudged her with his snout and turned until she scratched behind his ear. “Looking for company?” With a sigh, the animal blinked several times and shut its eyes, which surprised her. In her parents’ house cats had always been family pets. She didn’t consider herself a dog person—not really an animal person either. With twelve-hour days, it didn’t seem fair to keep a dog at home by itself, and after twenty-two years of living with cats, she didn’t really like their attitude. If there had been more time, she would have taken Buddy, her new name for the stray, home with her. She would have found a way to get him past customs—or hell, she would have found a convoy of immigrants and paid them to take the dog with them and meet her someplace. Damn, she could dream when all the sand in her hourglass slipped away. Where had all of these ideas been years ago? “No dog left behind,” she said, rubbing between his shoulders. “That’s how it would have been.” “He likes you. Tell me, did you continue your movie theme and name him Cujo or Toto?” Alicia’s jaw clenched at Michael’s voice, her irritation growing. She didn’t want her heart to skip a beat, or her breath to catch in the back of her throat, but she found herself expecting—and welcoming—him. “Tell me how you knew,” she blurted out. “About…everything.” Without being asked, he took a seat beside her and pulled 63

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his knees up to his chest, his shoulder barely touching hers. She fought the urge to lean against him, press her lips to the side of his neck and inhale his musk. As if she didn’t exist, he stared at the water and the sun that had disappeared past the edge of the world. Somehow it still continued to illuminate the sky with a blood red aura fighting against the indigo night. It would lose eventually, but damn if it didn’t hold on as long as possible. “You’re dangerous for me,” he said at last, the sound of his voice cutting through the silence. “Me?” she yelled and startled Buddy, who lifted his scruffy brows and stared at her a moment. “I didn’t ask you to join me.” “True. But it makes you no less dangerous.” He turned toward her and inhaled, his nostrils flaring and eyes heavily lidded, as though he couldn’t get enough of her. “What exactly am I doing to you?” “You”—he paused and thought a moment—“excite me.” Well that wasn’t exactly the answer she expected. She stared at him a moment, half-expecting to be the butt of a joke. She had been out of high school for almost twelve years yet the torment of being too short for her weight had never left her. It didn’t matter if she’d discovered a love for swimming. Once the wallflower, always the wallflower happened to be her life philosophy. “In what way?” she asked, trying to remain cool and cautious. Flirting may as well have been a foreign language. “Dance with me again and I’ll show you.” 64

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Temptation pulled at her, but she turned her head away. She wanted to do this, God how she wanted to do this, but she couldn’t. Not now, she told herself. It’s too late. “So then you’re a gigolo, right?” A mind-reading, super hot gigolo who will probably stop my heart if he smiles at me one more time. He frowned at her. “No, I’m a hemo-addict.” Her eyes narrowed. “Is that better or worse?” “For you? Better.” Her heart raced faster than it ever had when she swam laps, but freestyle swimming hardly compared to Michael’s velvety soft lips and his silky voice that wrapped around her. It seemed to turn into something tangible and touch her in all the right places. Somewhere in the two suitcases she’d packed she had a pair of fuck-me heels. This man had fuck-me everything—and if he didn’t watch it, she’d topple him in the sand and ravage him. She cleared her voice, realizing she’d started to lean toward him. At the last possible moment she drew back and brushed her hair out of her eyes. “And why is that?” “Because I can offer you more.” Really, all he had to offer was another foot massage leading to orgasm and she wouldn’t complain. Or talk, since hearing his voice did more to her than most of her exboyfriends. “And just what are you planning on offering me?” His tongue flicked out and ran along his lower lip, breaking her immediate concentration. She wondered what it 65

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would feel like to have him run his tongue along her lower lip, down her throat to her shoulder until he kissed and licked her everywhere. He took another deep breath, his eyes almost closing, as though whatever scent he picked up intoxicated him. “Alicia, I could offer you another chance.” He didn’t have to explain. She knew precisely what he meant, and though it surprised her to hear him say it, she believed him. She needed to believe him because she wasn’t ready for what the doctors told her was the end. “How?” she asked. Michael’s lips formed a straight line, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “That’s the complicated part.” “Explain. I’m normally pretty good at following along.” “I think you already know the short answer.” He forced a close-lipped smile, the corners of his mouth pulling up near his eye teeth. She exhaled hard, her breath leaving her lungs as she stared at him. A hemo-addict indeed. It didn’t quite make sense to her, but she’d long since forgotten reality and settled for a half-dream to traipse through. “So now what?” He leaned back slightly, allowing her distance she didn’t want. “I’ll leave the rest of it up to you.” Tears pricked the backs of her eyes, and before she could wipe them away, she felt the first hot, humiliating drops spill down her cheeks. Any moment now she’d wake from her dream and find herself more isolated than ever before. She 66

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found herself in way too deep to settle for a hallucination. “Alicia,” Michael called, his voice distant yet still managing to surround her. She could still feel the heat of his body, smell the scent of his cologne and masculine musk. As she dried her eyes, she realized he hadn’t spoken aloud. The echo of his voice lingered in her mind, a sheath covering rationality and fear. She wanted the security he could provide, the incomprehensible comfort of a stranger who seemed closer than imaginable. “I’m okay,” she managed to say. Buddy rose and rested his chin against her shoulder while Michael put his hand over hers, which made her realize she’d started to tremble. The warmth of male company, which she hadn’t experienced in far too long, and her new furry companion, made her sigh in contentment. For the first time in months she felt part of society, no longer lingering on the edge where she waited to drop off unnoticed. “Let’s take a walk.” The rasp of his voice brought her back to the beach and the cool night air. No trace of the setting sun existed as darkness draped over the sea, the hush of waves creeping closer to where they sat. “Where are we walking?” “Wherever you want.” “I’m not sure I want to go anywhere.” “Do you want to stand still?” She caught the hidden meaning in his words, his understanding of the fears she held inside of being stagnant when she didn’t want to waste another precious moment. At 67

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last she shook her head and gazed up to where he stood over her, his hand extended. When she looked at his long, perfect fingers leading to his square, masculine hand, she saw a bridge to a world that had no longer existed for her. “I can’t afford to stand still,” she blurted out. His dark eyes turned sullen and clouded. Without a word, he shook his head and hauled her to her feet, her body propelling faster than she could comprehend. Her stomach lurched, her mind reeled as she stood propped up against his hot, solid body. Gently he turned her face toward his and ran his fingers through her hair, sweeping strands from her eyes. Somehow, despite the breeze, he raked her thick, dark locks into place and ran his thumb along her lower lip, the heat of his caress like being touched by sunlight. His mouth moved, but she didn’t quite hear him, and she leaned forward, hoping she’d catch his words. He nuzzled her, his breaths quick and deep like a fish pulled from the water and gasping for air. She thought she felt him tremble, his grasp on her shirtsleeve tightening. He repeated his words again, though this time they whispered through her thoughts, a scuttle of heated, moist breath that penetrated her. You are the drug that controls me. As his fingers entwined with hers, she felt the strength of him both mentally and physically—and her domination over him, the unexpected draw of their bodies entwined. So perfect, so unexpected, so very much what she needed to make the rest 68

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of her world recede like the sun behind the horizon. Darkness became a sanctuary, a place more complete and perfect than she ever knew existed. Now would be a night to forget everything else, a night to think of a future, an eternity. Of Michael and nothing else. “I’m ready,” she murmured.

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CHAPTER 11 Alicia Buddy trotted close behind them as they walked along the beach, following a silver strand of moonlight along the waves. The hotel and its party slowly disappeared, giving them the freedom of the pier at night. They walked hand in hand, the murmur of waves replacing conversation. With anyone else it would have seemed awkward, but with him it felt right. She didn’t need to tell mindless stories or ask a question for the sake of filling silence. Feeling his fingers stroke the side of her hand told her more about him than polite conversation. The strength of his 70

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grasp spoke of a man unafraid of exploring the world, the soft pads of his fingers whispered how he took care of himself, the rough spots at the base of his fingers dared her to discover how he would explore her with the knowledge of a man. “How was your dinner?” he asked. “Good, but she forgot the sour cream.” “And your drink?” “Lots of tequila.” Her cheeks flushed, fluid warmth thrumming through her. One margarita she could handle, but if she’d asked for a second, her libido would have wrestled her good sense and self-control to the ground—then worked on Michael. He flashed a smile. “Sounds good.” They turned with the shoreline, and she watched as he moved with the grace of a cat, his gait a slow, sensual play along the beach. While they chased the ribbon of moonlight, Alicia found herself studying his shadow, his long strides keeping an easy pace. She could have followed him to the end of the earth if he’d asked, especially if the end of their journey included hour after hour of earth-shattering sex on a secluded beach. With his broad shoulders and muscular frame, she had a feeling he could go on for hours, allowing her to sit on his hips and fuck him hard, then turning her onto her back or over a rock until she trembled with sensation. He licked his lips as he bent to retrieve a stick and toss it into the water for Buddy to fetch. For a long while he held onto it, seemed to tease her as it dangled in his hand at the 71

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exact level of his hips. She didn’t know what she found sexier—the suggestiveness of a twelve-inch stick so near his crotch, or the things she wanted him to do with his tongue. Any man who could give her a minute long orgasm while they danced had to be a pro at licking and sucking a woman to orgasm. Yet another bonus for reaching the end of the world, she thought. She smiled to herself at the thought of oral sex on the beach beneath a sliver of moonlight with no one around. Tepid ocean air, soft white sand, and Michael laying her back, doing everything she’d always imagined… “How do you know the earth ends at a beach?” he asked, giving her a sideways glance. “It’s just my idea of… Wh-what?” She paused, her mouth dropping open. “Oh, my God, how did you… Do you read minds?” He nudged her with his shoulder and lifted a brow. “Read your mind? No.” “Then how did you…know the thing about the beach?” she asked, wanting to disappear into the sand. Talking about her most sensual fantasies had never been her thing. With a very conservative mother and a father who’d more or less made it seem like sex and sexual desire didn’t exist, she’d gone through puberty and many years of horniness with no idea of why she felt the way she did. Once she hit college, she had to play makeup and attempt to forget her inhibitions, which still proved a constant obstacle. “I can sense your thoughts, but not read them per se. It’s 72

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sort of like a picture show if someone cut out a handful of images from magazines, tossed them into a bucket, then spread them across the ground. One by one they stand out, and I must give you credit because you have a fascinating bucket of ideas.” The darkness hid her embarrassment, but Alicia found herself far beyond humiliation. She hadn’t had one dirty little thought about him, she’d filled an industrial sized washer with all sorts of filthy ideas—and all of them had been about how he could pleasure her, not how she’d love to taste him, feel him at the back of her throat. “Wow.” He smiled at her and gave a nod, obviously enjoying his peek into her thoughts. “By all means, go on.” “So is this some sort of vampire mind control?” she asked. He threw the stick into the water before scratching his forehead. The dog splashed into the ocean, sending a spray of water onto their feet and shins as he took off in hot pursuit of the stick. “If I could control your thoughts, it would be a hell of a lot more explicit.” His eyes narrowed. “And creative.” Alicia bit her lip. “Well, then.” “We better keep walking. It’s at least another mile before we reach the end of the earth.” “Been there before?” she asked, hoping he’d catch her sardonic tone. Sometimes her version of teasing came off as bitchy. “I’ve only heard the rumors.” Alicia bowed her head and wrapped her arms around her 73

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body. “I had no idea vampires could read minds.” “Am I a vampire to you?” A single word gave her goose bumps and flashbacks to both cheesy and hair-raising horror flicks. She risked a glance at his face and found him studying her, his dark eyes intense and very much alive, nothing like the red-eyed undead she’d always seen in films. The malice she expected in the gaze of a blood-sucking creature of the night didn’t exist either. It seemed like an insult to refer to him as a vampire. “But, of course, what a vampire does wouldn’t matter because you’re a hemo-addict.” He nodded, his pace slowing to a leisurely stroll. “I’m a hybrid.” “You run on electric and blood?” With a sideways glance at her he smiled. “Something like that.” Buddy returned with the stick in his mouth and pushed it into Michael’s hand, giving the hybrid no choice but to obey. “I consider it the evolution from Dracula to modern day denizens of my particular freak show. On the outside we might all seem the same, but I’ve spent the last five years researching what makes a hemo-addict tick and what keeps a specimen from turning into a dangerous creature. I’ve learned we’re particular about what food we intake when we crave.” “Is that what your company does? Research hemoaddicts?” “My company generates lab results for twenty-five hospitals and over five hundred doctor’s offices, outpatient 74

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centers, and urgent care clinics. We focus on diagnostic testing, not the discovery of new diseases or cures. My personal research into hemo-addiction and care is more of a hobby.” He took another deep breath. “Or perhaps I should say it’s become a necessity.” The bitterness in his tone made her stop in her tracks. “Were you bitten or born this way?” He rubbed the side of his neck and pursed his lips. His gaze hardened, the glint of moonlight off the ocean not enough to illuminate the utter darkness she caught in his expression. Before she could fully grasp it, his long, dark lashes lowered to shield his eyes, hiding him for the first time. “No, I wasn’t born this way, but it’s all the same in the end.” Her eyes narrowed. “What does that mean?” His expression changed from frustration to a cynical, chilling smile. “I wasn’t given a choice.” She drew back from him just enough to feel her heels sink into the warm, damp sand. Buddy hit the back of her legs with his whip-like tail as he continued to whine at Michael, who held the stick loosely in his hand. “Someone bit you?” “Someone deceived me, drew me out there.” He pointed toward a lighthouse further down the beach, in the opposite direction from where they walked. “And before I knew what had happened, I craved the smell of fresh blood and the feel of my teeth tearing open a vein. Nothing captivated me more than an exposed neck, the tenderness of raw flesh and…” His 75

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hands clenched into fists. “The color of it, the stark contrast of the white sand and deep red blood.” His demeanor had changed and she sensed his frustration and anger pulsing in the air around her. Even if he knew her, she didn’t know him—at least not in the way he’d discovered her. With his knowledge and physical strength he held all the advantages—he could do more than control her. He could kill her. They were at least a mile away from the hotel property. If she screamed, no one would hear her. If she ran, he’d catch up to her. If she could wrestle the stick away from him, she might have a chance to drive it into his heart… He gave her a razor sharp look, his eyes burning with garnet accents around his pupils. “That probably wouldn’t work.” He examined the stick, then met her eye. “It’s an old, brittle stick and would break upon impact. But even if you could drive it through my ribcage, it wouldn’t work the way it does in movies. Actually, I’m not sure what would happen.” She didn’t see him move, but he stood closer, the scent of him surrounding her. The stick dropped to the ground at their feet and he took a step back, giving her ample room to retrieve it. An unspoken challenge lay between them, and she stared at the stick. While he looked on, she bent, picked it up, and ran the pad of her thumb along the splintered tip. Feeling the jagged edge reminded her of the hours she’d spent in the hospital while tests were run, the dozens of times she’d held her breath while a phlebotomist found a vein and told her to 76

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make a tight fist. Her gaze flashed up to meet his. With enough force she could break skin, drive it past muscle and between bones until it lodged deep into his chest cavity. Quite possibly she’d miss his heart, but he’d still bleed to death. “It wouldn’t work,” she said, repeating his words. “Because you’re not a vampire.” She paused, the charge around them giving way to the damp night air. “And you’re not here to hurt me.” She tossed the stick into the water. Before she’d released it, Buddy dove in, getting a head start on their game. “How do you keep yourself from biting people?” “I’m extremely conscientious of the risk.” He faced her once more, his expression relaxed, his eyes sad and hopeless, unlike anything she’d seen from him. Whatever had changed him still haunted him, perhaps kept him from grabbing her by the hair and pulling her head back, exposing her neck for a feeding. “In my line of work, I see diseases of the blood every day. If I were a vampire, I’d be a member of the undead.” He took her hand and pressed it to his wrist, allowing her to feel his pulse. “But hybrids aren’t undead, and a disease that could kill a regular human being is just as deadly to us. In the research I’ve completed over the last five years, I’ve discovered about two hundred true cases of hybrids. Out of those two hundred, almost half are infected with blood-born illness, the biggest, of course being HIV and AIDS. The others haven’t been tested or aren’t carriers. Yet. Imagine one hundred known cases 77

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representing ten million worldwide and you’d have an epidemic.” “What about the cravings?” She fought the urge to reach up and cover her throat. “I’m always in control.” “How?” He frowned. “Through a specialized diet, supplements, and plenty of research.” “But you could relapse, couldn’t you?” “If I had no self-control, yes.” “So if you slip?” “I won’t.” “How do you know?” “Because I’ve allowed myself to slip twice and it wasn’t worth the months of testing and retesting for disease.” He started to say something else, but stopped and briefly looked away. “It’s too dangerous these days, Alicia, and I know the consequences of feeding better than most because of my occupation.” His eyes softened, though a flicker of danger lingered, steeled her nerves when she wanted him to draw her in further. “I’m not sure I understand what makes you a hybrid.” “We’re an imperfect species. Sunlight won’t kill me, but it hurts like hell and leaves blisters if I’m exposed to direct light for more than thirty minutes at a time. Blood is nourishment and, as I explained to you, it’s also a potential disaster if we bite someone carrying a disease since we aren’t immune. We’re living, as you’ve felt, but through constant feedings 78

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we’re not supposed to age as rapidly as humans.” She scrunched her nose at him. “I’m not looking for your pity. As long as I’m careful, I’ll be fine and so will you. Besides, the upside is I can sense your thoughts.” He gave a smile that bordered on cynical. “And we can fly, which is just fucking cool.” She stared at him beneath the moonlight, watched the silver glow catch his eyes and highlight his hair. The waves continued to murmur, the wind in her hair and sneaking beneath her clothes. Being with him didn’t frighten her, and she wondered if he controlled her thoughts, or if she’d accepted the indescribable. He stepped closer and gazed into her eyes. “I can give you my word that I won’t hurt you. You’re no good to me if you’re dead, and in your condition you wouldn’t survive a bite to the neck.” His hand closed over hers, drawing her closer until she swore their bodies pulsed in time with the same fervent electricity. “Each time I inhale you become part of me, Alicia. Why would I want to hurt what attracts me?” Slowly she drew away, frustrated with herself. All of her life she’d been tame, forced to color within the lines and stay on the curb. She’d brought home a bad boy once, a kid with slicked back hair and an earring, who’d quit school to work in a bike shop repairing crotch rockets. Her dad had dared her to go ahead and throw away her life for some bastard who would knock her up and leave. She’d been the one to leave, to make up some stupid excuse and tell her biker she couldn’t see him any more. At 79

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the time she told herself she’d show her padre, but in the end she knew she’d failed at rebellion. “I don’t attract you,” she mumbled, trying to laugh off his words. “You induce me with lust,” he said. “And though I may be able to fight off my cravings, I can’t exactly ignore your power and intrigue.” He took a deep breath and exhaled hard. “If only you knew how sweet an intoxication you create by standing here. You’d be just as drunk and perpetually helpless as me.” “You know, sooner or later you’re going to run out of good pick-up lines.” “Well, hopefully you’ll cave a little before I have to use my best material.” He made her smile and look away, too afraid to meet his eyes, too afraid to lose herself in his gaze. She couldn’t do this right now. Five years ago she would have jumped at the chance to have a fling—or would she have? Five years ago he wouldn’t have given her a second glance because she would have shrunk into the corner of the room completely unnoticed, no midnight skinny-dipping with a bottle of tequila fueling her poor decisions. “Alicia,” Michael said, his voice a low, penetrating hiss in the night that caught her by surprise. He commanded her, his tone firm, but his face passive. While the dog paddled out into the water, she swallowed and waited for Michael to continue. “What holds you back?” he asked. 80

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“Excuse me?” “What restrains you?” His hand gripped her wrist, tight enough to garner her attention, but loose enough to allow her an easy escape. “And don’t lie to me, Alicia. I can already feel you bound.” “I’m probably just tired.” “No, it has nothing to do with physical aspects. It’s the waves of pheromones you transmit. They’re jilted, little spasms of scent and attraction. What’s holding you back from feeling how you want to feel?” “The unfairness of it all,” she answered, nervously pushing her hair behind her ears with her free hand. She swallowed hard to keep from bawling, which had become increasingly difficult. Ever since she’d first gone to the doctor to have tests run she’d decided to be brave. No matter how her stomach knotted, no matter how the backs of her eyes burned with tears, she’d stare at the charts, nod when appropriate, and pretend she had come to terms with her fate. “Tell me.” “It’s just…I think it sucks that this is all I get, and I’m really pissed off about how I’ve tried to be good, responsible, and worthwhile and none of it matters.” Her fingernails pressed into the palms of her hands. “It’s unfair, which I guess is just a fancy way of saying I pity myself.” He nodded, his hand easily sliding against hers until their fingers entwined. His touch, simple and assuring, felt right to her, as though everything she needed rested in the lines of his hands, nestled deep in his fingerprints and the creases across 81

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his palms. They stood shoulder to shoulder while Buddy paddled his way to shore and shook off the excess water, then plopped down in the sand to chew on his prize stick as though he knew the moment called for privacy. “What would you do if time limits didn’t exist?” he asked suddenly. She opened her mouth and shut it. “I don’t know.” “Don’t think about it. Just answer.” “I’d honestly sit on my ass and watch reruns of The Price is Right while allowing my gym membership to waste away completely unused until my butt grew bigger than my recliner. Then I’d bitch like hell about it.” Michael turned to face her and laughed. “Well, at least you’re honest.” “Go me,” she answered sardonically. His gaze settled on her lips. “What would you do if you had the ability to do anything?” His eyes flashed up to meet hers, his brows lifted in surprise, his lips forming a delectable, crooked smile. “Or anyone.” Alicia inhaled and nudged him with her shoulder, playfully sending him back several feet. “That’s it. Quit looking in my head.” “Quit having impure thoughts and I’ll be more than happy to stop.” He smirked at her and shrugged his shoulders, his gaze dropping to her breasts. He made no attempt to hide his interest, his breaths growing longer and deeper—as did his fangs. She glanced down his body to see if anything else of his 82

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had started to grow. “But I can’t promise I’ll stop thinking about you.” “Well, then let’s make it even.” The wind picked up and tugged at her hair and clothes. She blamed the cool breeze for her hardened nipples. The tips of her breasts had turned into tight, painful knots begging for him to lick and suck on her. Michael came forward and wrapped one arm around her, his hand lodged against the small of her back as he pressed her body to his, sharing his impenetrable warmth. His gaze had turned heavy-lidded, his expression daring her to play along. She wondered if he had any idea how much she really wanted to play with him all night long. “Make it even how?” he asked, his voice a deep, resonating growl against the shell of her ear. “Tell me what you’re thinking. About me.” She squeezed his shoulder, allowing her fingers to brush along his neck until she felt his pulse. “Don’t think about it. Just answer.” His rigid cock stood between them, pressed hard against her upper belly. With his head tilted to the side, he leaned into her and traced circles up and down her spine, the pads of his fingers digging into her. For a long moment they stood in silence, the stubble on his cheeks and chin scraping against her face. She held her breath until she couldn’t stand it anymore, and when she inhaled, she could only smell him. “Michael, you can’t—” “I’m thinking about the feel of your lips and the taste of your body. I’m thinking about spreading your legs wide open 83

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and fucking you first with my tongue, then with my fingers until you’re exhausted from it all, but can’t wait for more. I want to feel you take me inch by inch, your legs trembling and wrapped around me as if you can’t get enough, because I already know I can’t get enough of you, not in a single night and quite possibly not in all of eternity.” His voice turned to a low, harsh growl, a command rather than simple ideas. “That’s very…explicit,” she mumbled. “I’m not done, Alicia. I’m thinking if you don’t want this as much as I do, you have about five seconds to walk away before I won’t let you go, not until I’ve experienced every inch of your body with my tongue and lips and until you can do nothing more than lay in my arms. Tell me if you want to leave and tell me now.” The edge to his voice made her shiver, but she clung to him, unwilling to release what she’d found, unwilling to give up on him or herself. Not now, not yet. “What happens if I stay?” “Anything you want.” She splayed her fingers against the back of his neck and pressed her hips to his until she had him exactly where she wanted him, exactly where she needed him. “Define ‘anything.’” Another intriguing smile, another seductive glance. She could already think of a half-dozen different things she wanted included in the bargain—reverse cowgirl, on her knees, from behind, head to toe, spooning, and suspended in the air. God bless Cosmo and the rest of the magazines she read at the 84

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grocery store checkout for providing her with ideas she never thought she’d actually try. His hand snaked beneath her shirt, his broad grasp steadying her as he nuzzled her, his lips barely brushing hers. “I meant anything.” “Michael,” she whispered. “You’re mine.” He breathed her in, his lips against the column of her throat. Her knees weakened at the feel of him, and she sank to the cool, soft sand with her arms wrapped around him, feeling the thunder of his heart beating against hers. His tongue flicked out against her flesh, his lips hot and smooth. “All mine.”

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CHAPTER 12 Alicia She held her breath for a moment, helpless in his arms, and waited for him to go against his word and bite her. Pain and death no longer frightened her, though the idea of being bled dry froze her in place, immobilized her when it should have evoked her sense of fight or flight. But he didn’t bite her. He didn’t so much as allow his teeth to graze against her neck or shoulder. His tongue ran in a long, straight line from her neck down her collarbone where he kissed her shoulder and sighed. “Mine,” he murmured, sucking on her just below her right 86

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ear. “All mine.” He pulled her shirt up over her head and cupped her breasts, kneading her through her satin bra. With a push he had her on her back and straddled her, keeping her pinned to the sand while he knelt over her body and kissed his way down her neck and chest. Her hands threaded in his hair, tugged at the roots until she wondered if she hurt him. “Go ahead,” he breathed. “Pull harder.” His words zipped an unexpected thrill through her, and she tightened her grasp, pulling his head toward hers and forcing him to kiss her hard. Submission—always submission—turned into a moment of control. The taste of him became intoxicating to her and she held him firmly, steadied him until she felt him give in to her. His obedience, however, was short-lived. He swept one hand beneath her and drew her up until they were suspended inches from the ground. She felt the drag of her hair against the sand and the caress of wind across her shoulders in stark contrast to the warmth of his body smashed against her breasts and belly. They were weightless without the aid of water, suspended by his own strength. For a moment she tensed, afraid to fall— always so afraid to fall—but he paused and waited for her to adjust to the sensation, for the butterflies in her stomach to take wing and flutter. At last she took a breath and opened her eyes, seeing his face above hers and the stars glinting in the blackness above 87

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them. Darkness cloaked them, hugging tight in shades of ebony far above and the deep, dark obsidian bruise of a virgin night along the horizon. “Mine,” he said again, kissing her lips, his tongue teasing her, requesting entrance. “All mine.” “I don’t think so,” she murmured, wanting to be more than his. He grunted in response, his fingers working against her nipples until she felt the throb of desire through her body in toe-curling delight. For a moment her eyes fluttered shut, her lips trembling, searching for the right words to say as he electrified her. Bracing herself, she gripped his arms and tilted her body to the side, wrenching them until they dipped down. Michael gave an oof as he collided against the sand, but she smiled and knelt over him, rubbing her body against his like a cat in heat. He blinked at her, his gaze filled with amazement. “Mine,” she growled, pinning him with her weight, even though she knew he could easily topple her. He chuckled against her lips and fondled her breasts, obviously enjoying the feel of her hardened nipples against the pads of his thumbs. Clothes became cumbersome and she fought to remove his belt, viciously clawing at the buckle before she wrapped one leather end around her fist and gave it a firm tug. It came free at last and she studied it, running her index finger along the smooth, body-warmed surface and wondering how she could use it to her advantage. “What are you doing?” he questioned. 88

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Her bra slipped from her shoulders, her breasts suddenly heavy and resting against his palms. With a wicked smile, she leaned over him and groaned as he captured her nipple between his teeth. For one brief moment she forgot her intentions, but she wanted the upper hand, at least physically. With one hand planted on the ground, she lightly slapped his cheek. “You’ll do what I say,” she commanded. He looked stunned and pleased, his nostrils flared with each deep breath. “I never took you for dominant,” he said, still teasing her breasts with his hands. Pleasure echoed through her, starting from the tips of her sensitive breasts and ending deep in her belly. “Neither did I,” she answered, forcing his hands above his head where she looped them through his belt and used a stick driven into the sand to secure him in place. Not the best device for keeping him immobilized, but she had a feeling he wouldn’t fight her. Still maintaining eye contact, she unbuttoned his shirt and ran her tongue along his hard chest, circling one nipple, then the other until the flat discs turned into small, hard peaks. She played with his pebbled flesh, tasting the salt of his body while she listened to him grunt. He smiled at her, his fangs longer, his lips barely able to close over them. A hybrid erection, she thought, though she felt the real deal against her belly and purposely dragged herself down his body until she felt the length of him between her breasts. 89

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In silence he continued to stare, his breaths sharp hisses between his teeth. Tilting her head, she inhaled the scent of his cologne and skin, the smell of a man aroused. The musk of him drew her lower, her lips brushing along his belly until her chin skimmed along the thick curls of hair between his legs. His cock stood thick and rigid, plum-colored and dripping a thin line of semen at the head. She kissed him from tip to the base, breathing him in as she touched his large, ruddy sac with her tongue. With her gaze locked on his, she traced the ridge of his cock and licked the crown of his penis, tasting the first salty drops. The smell of his seed made her pussy contract, the taste of him hardening her nipples and quickening her pulse. He inhaled sharply, a ragged breath of complete surrender as she repeated her actions, starting once again from his scrotum and working her way up, this time sucking the head of his dick before she released him and kissed his stomach, feeling him strain for more. His back arched, the rock hard length of him just barely slipping into her mouth. She took him deeper, allowed him to push into her hot, wet mouth as he breathed a curse of pleasure. “Open your legs wider,” she instructed, barely able to believe her words. She’d never given orders during sex, never participated in anything wilder than a handful of spontaneous romps through the house when she hadn’t quite made it into the bedroom. Sucking a man to climax on a deserted beach had never entered her mind, but she couldn’t imagine anything else. He summoned actions within her, desires she’d always 90

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known existed, but had never acknowledged. Until now. Until him. His head fell back, his shoulders relaxed once he did as she instructed. “What are you going to—” “Don’t talk. One more word and I’ll leave you like this.” He eyed her again, his long hair mussed and partially obscuring his eyes. His smoldering, heavy-lidded gaze penetrated her, glowing with the faintest hint of garnet. A heartbeat of fear passed through her until she realized she held the upper hand, controlled him in ways she’d never controlled anyone. Michael remained at her mercy, his legs spread and his cock resting against his flat, hard belly. Kneeling, she ran her fingertips along his stomach and hips down to his thighs, stroking him up and down until she skimmed lightly against his testicles. His cock twitched each time she massaged the soft insides of his legs, and she bent, kissing his navel. Without her permission to speak, he groaned, a desperate, pleading request for relief. She looked away from his face and wrapped her fist around the root of him, pumping the base as she flicked her tongue against the head. With each flick she began rubbing him between his balls and his sphincter, massaging his prostate as she felt his dick harden in her grasp. His legs straightened, his hips rising from the sand. Taking him into her mouth, she gently grasped his testicles and pulled them away from his body until he couldn’t help but disobey 91

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her order for silence. “Fuck, Alicia.” Listening to the change in his breathing, she sucked him harder, once again massaging his prostate until his dick stood rock hard in her mouth. This time she wouldn’t deny him, knowing full well he’d experience an explosive orgasm, quite possibly one of the best in his life. She licked and sucked him faster and harder until he bucked beneath her, his hips thrusting up with greater urgency. He slipped out of her mouth just as he came, a hot spurt of semen landing on his belly and chest. Not wanting to waste a drop of him, she slowly licked it up, starting first with the engorged tip of his penis that continued to twitch, then moving around his belly button and up to his ribs. For once sucking a man off didn’t feel submissive. Each time she met his gaze she felt empowered, her sexuality burning through her veins. “God damn, where in the hell did you learn to do that? I’ve never had such an intense…holy fuck.” She smiled and rested her chin against his chest briefly before she pulled the stake from the sand and allowed him to lower his arms. “I read about it in a magazine.” His arm snaked around her and he pulled her close, resting with her belly smashed against his. Dark eyes stared up at her, his lips forming an easy smile as he kissed her nose. “I definitely encourage literacy if it’s going to be used for the greater good.” “Believe you me, I’m all about the greater good.” 92

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A grin of satisfaction spread across her face as she stretched out beside him and brushed the strands of dark hair from his eyes. Grains of sand dusted his neck and chest, which she started to brush away until she realized it didn’t quite work. Michael sat up and dragged her with him, leaving their clothes piled on the sand. “What are we doing?” she asked as he tugged her along, swinging her around in wide circles. She sank into the white sand, felt the lingering warmth from the sun still embedded in the moving landscape. He inched her closer and closer to the water until the sand beneath her feet turned damp and cool, her toes curling around partially hidden sea shells, her feet and ankles partially wrapped in strands of seaweed like a ballerina’s slippers. “We’re getting rid of the sand.”

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CHAPTER 13 Michael Alicia squealed with laughter as he wrapped his arms around her torso and hauled her toward the growing waves crashing on the shores. Her breath smelled of him, her skin vibrant with their mutual arousal. The combined scents fueled the desires he’d quelled for far too long. Once they stood knee deep in the ocean, he held Alicia to him, her back to his stomach, her hair blowing against his face. Out of all the times he’d made his annual pilgrimage to this very beach, he’d always felt tethered. Yet he couldn’t stray. Facing his past, the slice of a lifetime between who he’d 94

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been and who he’d become kept him returning year after year. “It’s a beautiful night,” she murmured. “I haven’t stood outside and looked at stars for a long time.” “Do you want a closer look?” She turned and looked at him from over her shoulder, the most wide, beautiful smile he’d ever seen on her face. In the wake of sex and the comfort of night, she glowed, alive in a way he suspected she’d never imagined feeling again. “Are you serious?” “Of course I’m serious.” He pressed his toes downward and they rose from the sand and sea until they stood with the soles of their feet inches above the surface. Alicia inhaled, her body trembling against his. “Not too high,” she said, gripping his arm wrapped around her body. “Why not?” “Because. What if we fall?” “Do you think I’d let you fall?” He relaxed his grasp on her and instantly felt her dig her fingers into the back of his forearm. “Open your eyes and breathe, Alicia. Just enjoy the view.” Face buried against her shoulder, he nuzzled her soft, warm body, his dick growing hard as he pressed himself between her ass cheeks. She took a long, deep breath and sighed as they rose several more feet, the wind swirling around them, the sound of the ocean waves lulling her into sedation. 95

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“It’s beautiful,” she murmured. “You’ll have to describe it to me later,” he replied. “I’m not very interested in the sky at the moment.” His hands roamed over her ribs and stomach, venturing further until he caressed the perfectly trimmed patch of hair between her legs. Moist heat greeted him and his cock jumped fully to life much sooner than he’d expected. She tensed, a ragged breath escaping as she groaned and parted her thighs, scooting her feet apart until he could easily pull the lips of her labia open and tease her stiff clit. She rested her toes on the tops of his feet and arched her back, dragging his dick between her ass. Her head rolled back and rested on his shoulder, her breath a hiss in the night. She grew heavier in his arms, her knees partially bent, her hands reaching back to grab his hips. In silence he circled her clitoris, played with the round, smooth rise of flesh between her velvety soft skin. The smell of her fragranced the air and he reached up, dragging his fingers wet with her juices across her lips. “Taste what I do to you,” he growled in her ear. “Taste how much you want me inside of you.” She sucked on his finger, a hard, passionate tug that reminded him of how she’d taken his cock into her mouth. He cursed under his breath and bent his knees, the head of his stiff penis tracing the seam of her. Grabbing her by the chin, he forced her to meet him in a kiss, his hips thrusting against her ass, grinding against her and her growing wetness. With his free hand he teased her 96

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tight slit and felt her reach down, her hand over his, guiding him until she set a much faster, rougher pace. “That’s it, Alicia,” he coaxed. “Tell me what you want. Show me how you want me to touch you.” Her body tensed in sudden resistance. It wasn’t in her nature to tell anyone what she wanted. It wasn’t in her personality to ask for what she needed. He wanted to change that, to have her as no one else had ever claimed her, both mentally and physically. At last he tore away from their kiss and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her head back until she stared up at the sky, her eyes wide and desperate, her body quickly becoming his. “Show me,” he demanded, rolling her clit between his thumb and forefinger, pinching her so hard her soft cries turned to body-wracking sobs of overwhelming pleasure and pain. “Michael.” She inhaled sharply and licked her lips. “I want you inside of me.” His cock threatened to explode, his balls painfully tight as he bent her forward and played with her slit and along the rim of her ass, feeling her pucker. “Have you ever had a man fill you like this?” he asked, slowly penetrating her, moving in short, shallow thrusts until he felt her slowly relax, the initial discomfort replaced by entirely new sensations. For a moment he focused on only her, feeling her emotions seep into his bloodstream. Uncertainty surfaced, but he knew she was willing to let him in further, to unlock the doors she’d kept shut her entire life. 97

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“Alicia?” he questioned, positioning himself at an angle behind her, allowing himself more room to explore her. She shook her head, her hair draping her eyes. “Never.” He pushed his finger deeper into her while at the same time reaching around to thrust two fingers into her vagina. She whimpered, just as he’d expected, the sound of a woman who knew what she wanted, but feared it all the same. Tonight he would make her fearless of her own needs. “Tell me,” he said, his voice soft. “Please.” She gulped another breath, her body weightless in his arms. “Please, Michael, don’t stop. I need you.” “Bend.” He pressed on her back, rough and urgent in his desire for her. She did as he requested, reaching out into the nothingness. For a moment she flailed just as he’d done the first time he’d discovered his new ability to suspend himself in the air. He hoped she experienced the same tingle in her belly, the same rush of adrenaline he’d also learned to crave. Her arms hung down while he gripped her hips and glided deep inside her hot, wet pussy. His eyes threatened to roll back, their fit deeper, tighter than he’d expected. With a harsh exhale, he pushed his hips forward, and penetrated her to the hilt. “Fuck, you’re so damn tight,” he said through clenched teeth. Filling her to the hilt, he paused and steadied himself, afraid one more good, hard thrust would be his undoing. He wanted the same control over her that she’d had over him, and he grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled, using it as an 98

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anchor to steady himself. Again she whimpered, louder than before as though she wanted the stars to hear. “You like that?” She curled her back and pushed against him, the sensation of their joined bodies and the sight of her submissive before him striking up a blaze of animalistic need. Slowly he fucked her ass with his middle finger, feeling her vagina contract around his dick. He pushed harder, deeper with each thrust until her groans turned to cries that sounded less and less human. Only need mattered, the desire of a woman to feel and enjoy all her body could offer. With every beat of her heart she gave herself to him, opening physically and emotionally until she owned each cry and each thrum of blood through her veins. Her sphincter relaxed and he played with her, explored the smooth, heated center of her and his own cock pressing back. Her back arched to the sensation, her movement driving his finger deeper. Her muscles contracted, pulsed around his rock-hard penis until he thought she’d make him come. Teeth gritted, he braced himself, wanting to have her until sunlight pierced the horizon. Slowly she pulled forward, and his finger still slick with her arousal slipped out. He caressed her round ass, enjoying the way she looked with her hair hanging in her face and her full breasts swaying with each short, quick thrust. “Michael,” she whispered. The sound of his name on her lips unleashed him. Unable to stand it a moment longer, he grabbed a fistful of her hair at 99

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the root and curled his free arm around her, their bodies lowering toward the water as Alicia captured his full attention. “Tell me,” he breathed, pounding into her. “Tell me what you want. Now.” “I want you,” she said, her voice strained. “You want me to what?” Her splayed hands splashed into the frothy ocean surface. Beads of salty water glimmered like jewels through her long hair and he gave it a firm, commanding tug. “Alicia, answer me. What do you want me to do?” “I want you.” She gasped for each breath, her body trembling as his feet touched down on the surface of the water, then swiftly plunged through the shallow depths and into the sand. “More,” he growled. She collapsed onto her knees and he uncoupled from her, turning her onto her back and kneeling over her with one leg extended and his weight supported on one knee. She reached up and pushed his hair back from his face, her eyes wide, her lips parted and trembling. “Come inside me. I need to feel you.” With Alicia curled onto her back, her knees bent and cradling him between her thighs, he thrust hard into her. Her sand-covered hands scraped down his spine, her nails clawing at his shoulders and down the length of his back. Cool, salty water washed over their joined bodies and he ran his tongue over her lips until she opened her mouth and allowed him to explore her. 100

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“Oh, Michael,” she quavered. She arched her back and moved with him, meeting him thrust for thrust as he pounded into her. When he was certain he couldn’t last a moment later, her expression froze, her eyes closing, her body turning from tense to boneless. Waves of pleasure filled him as he sensed her climax followed by the tight, hard pulse of her vagina around him. Teeth gritted, he pumped into her until their energies flowed together. Once he locked into her pleasure, he felt himself on the verge of release and bore down, his lips finding hers for a hard, penetrating kiss. Michael scooped one arm beneath her and drew her closer, wanting to feel every inch of her around him. His harsh breaths turned to soft groans as he lay draped over her, kissing her lightly as she sated his every need. Eyes closed, he wanted to lie beside her and memorize the feel of her body beside him, the murmur of the ocean around them. As much as he fought the weight growing in his belly, it still existed, a dark, dreadful energy he knew he couldn’t ignore. “Michael,” Alicia whispered, turning his face toward hers. He pushed her hair back from her eyes and kissed her forehead, afraid of what she’d say, afraid of what he’d do. “Two days before I was diagnosed with terminal cancer I felt better than I ever had in all my life. I remember the drive to work, how every light turned green just as I approached, I remember them having pesto ravioli with walnuts, my favorite thing on the menu in the cafeteria, and I remember driving 101

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home to all of my favorite songs. Everything about that day was perfect, and I wanted to wake up and have it all repeat the next day.” His heart hammered as he listened to her voice, his free hand curled into a fist around the sand beneath them. “The day my results came back I lived in only black and white. I never expected color to return again, but I can feel it. Being with you changes everything.” She rested against him, kissing his bare arm. “It’s like I’m alive again.” He didn’t speak or look her in the eye. His world for the past six years had been darkness. By day he worked beneath artificial light and after hours, when the third shift punched in, he returned home alone and watched the city from his balcony. Through it all his life had been accented by one color—red. Deep, thick crimson stained his world. The color of danger and lust painted his existence, never his life or his death. Both seemed too far away, a dream on the edge of his perception— a living nightmare he couldn’t escape. In the back of his throat he tasted it, the bitter flavor he craved. Crawling onto his knees, he moved away from her and covered his nose and mouth with his hand. Salt water filled his nostrils and he coughed, sputtering at the taste. “Michael?” Alicia questioned. “Get up,” he ordered, watching her from the corner of his eye as she draped her arm over her breast. She stared at him, her gaze filled with hurt and rejection. “Get up,” he said through his teeth. “Grab your clothes and get out of here.” 102

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She stood, a sheet of water and blood cascading down her body. It was too faint a line for her to notice, but he sensed it, craved it like an addict sought his addiction. She didn’t seem to notice the cut to the palm of her hand, the stain and temptation she left for him. He swallowed hard, wanting to lap it up, then locate the source and tear open her veins, feed from her as he hadn’t done to anyone in years. Tears filled her eyes and her teeth chattered, but she didn’t argue. The woman who had mustered her courage and voiced her needs now retreated, her shoulders hunched, body bent with embarrassment and humiliation. He swallowed again, unable to speak to her, afraid of what would happen if he approached her. Slowly he backed away, knowing her scent still clung to his flesh. He carried her on him just as she still possessed him, fragments of his desire deep inside of her. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she struggled into her clothes. “I thought you’d understand.” He bowed his head and nodded, his fingernails digging into the palms of his hands. Without looking at her, he pulled up his pants and hastily zipped them, leaving his belt in the sand. He held his breath and waited for her to disappear, too afraid of what would happen if he made the first move. She wouldn’t be safe until she washed and dressed the cut. She wouldn’t be safe until he returned to his hotel room, scrubbed away her scent, and medicated himself. Only then could he see her again. “Alicia,” he called out as she trudged through the sand. 103

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She didn’t turn to acknowledge him, and even though she stood at a distance, he knew she’d heard him. As with the rest of his senses, he could still hear her, feel her penetrating into his nerves and through every fiber in his body, claimed but not taken. His, but not his. He felt her seep into him, sadness, fear, and hatred for him. And he knew she cried.

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CHAPTER 14 Alicia She sniffled, not bothering to swipe the strands of hair that continued to hang in her face. Of course it would end this way, she told herself. He had what he wanted and would probably check out of his hotel in the morning and return home. As soon as she crested the slope leading toward the hotel property, she realized how far they’d walked. Lamps lighting the walkways between resort buildings guided her like a moth in the night. She glanced behind her at the ocean and the lighthouse down the beach, not bothering to see if Michael had followed 105

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after her or if he’d gone in a different direction. “End of the fucking world,” she muttered. “Literally.” It shouldn’t have mattered to her where he’d gone or what he did, but she wanted to see him and ask him why in the hell he’d pushed her away. She’d been on the verge of telling him she’d never felt closer to anyone in her life when he shoved her aside and told her to leave. Tears pooled in her eyes at the thought of him making her tremble, how she felt free and alive in his arms. No man had ever done to her what he’d so skillfully done, touching and teasing her as though he knew her inside and out. Maybe that’s how he made all the women he met feel. She didn’t want to think about whether or not he’d used her. She knew he’d used her and wondered if he’d also drugged her and made her believe all of his stories. Too tired to sort it out, she figured by sunrise she’d be able to separate real from imagined. The night weighed upon her shoulders. A week of rejuvenating her spirit and forgetting her real life had left her drained and miserable. There was no forgetting, no snatching up bits of time to live one more carefree day. She didn’t have another chance and she sure as hell had no other choice but to return home and tell her friends and family what she’d been hiding from them for months. “And then what?” she muttered to herself. She’d make her mother cry. Her father would probably grunt and hit the heel of his hand against his television remote as though it would juice up the dead batteries. They’d be 106

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pissed at her for keeping it a secret, but they should have known her by now. Tears escaped from her eyes and she sank to her knees, needing a moment before she returned home. Her biggest fear was having someone see her cry and ask if she needed anything. Yes, she would tell them, I need more time. I need someone. I need something. “I don’t know what I need,” she said under her breath. How would anyone else know? The breeze turned icy cold and she hugged her arms around her torso, hunger creeping into her belly. With any luck the bar kitchen would still be open and she could order something fattening, loaded with cheese, onions, and lots of hot peppers, just the way she liked it. She started to stand when movement from the corner of her eye froze her in place. “You shouldn’t be out here alone. It’s not safe for pretty girls.” A woman in a scarf covering her head and a flowing black dress stood facing the ocean. Her thick Mexican accent made it difficult to understand her, especially with the whip of wind and sand drowning out all other sound. Startled, Alicia scrambled to her feet and took a step back, clasping her hands. Her palm stung, and she glanced down at an inch-long cut following the line beneath her ring and smallest finger. “Thanks. I was just going back now.” She gestured toward the hotel. “I didn’t think I’d walked that far.” “Let’s walk back together.” The woman extended her 107

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hand. “Come with me. You look like you’re in no condition to be out alone. I will take you to your room if you don’t mind.” Alicia nodded, not wanting to be alone for the rest of the night. Her plane back home left tomorrow evening, and it didn’t seem right that she’d spend her final evening alone in her hotel room watching television or sleeping. “Actually, I’m in the mood for a margarita. You wouldn’t happen to know a place off the resort property that makes good, strong drinks, do you?” “Of course I do. I have lived here all of my life.” The woman sauntered toward her and placed her slender, pale hands on Alicia’s shoulders. Immediately she relaxed, feeling as though she’d known her new companion for a lifetime. “Then you probably know everything.” “Yes, everything there is to know. I keep you out of trouble, amiga.” Dark eyes stared back at her, endless pools of night drowned in shadows. “There is something Dos Rios is known for, mi amiga bonita. Would you like to have a taste of what the locals enjoy?” “What is it?” The woman put her finger to Alicia’s lips and smiled. A single touch of flesh against flesh electrified her in much the same way Michael had done, only this woman’s touch seemed to burn, come alive with its own power. She almost wanted more. Almost. “It’s a secret.” She pulled Alicia forward, their lips lingering only a breath away. The woman smelled sweet, like a strawberry margarita, and all Alicia could think about was 108

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running her tongue along the woman’s mouth and seeing if she intoxicated her. “Camine con mí.” With her feet stuck in the sand, she held back, curious and wary. Her mind seemed to travel separate roads, one half of her aware of danger, the other half needy and obedient. “Why is it a secret?” “Because.” The stranger ran her finger along Alicia’s collarbone and up to her ear, where she tucked a long strand of hair neatly into place. Alecia’s vagina began to ache, her hands trembling as she realized these weren’t her thoughts. “Everyone likes a secreto. We don’t tell visitantes what it’s called because we don’t want them taking it away from us. You understand. We protect it.” She shrugged, numbness creeping over her. Running, screaming, protesting—all of it seemed futile. “Who are you?” Straight, white teeth gleamed between her thick lips, her fangs lengthening before Alicia’s eyes. A vampire, a hybrid, whatever she was Alicia didn’t want to be near her. She started to protest, fought to walk away from the strange, veiled woman who held onto her shoulder. It felt as though they’d become Siamese twins, bolted together by the stranger’s touch. Her deep, dark eyes drew Alicia in, solid pools of a starless night sky never blinking. As though venom filled her grasp, she forced Alicia to her knees and bent over her, kissing her on the forehead, her fingers stroking through Alicia’s hair. Her scalp tingled, sent a shiver down her spine to her useless legs. “You may call me Mujer.” 109

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CHAPTER 15 Michael As if he understood, Buddy trotted up and nudged Michael’s hand, guiding him toward the hotel. Sweat beaded on his forehead while his hands and feet felt ice cold, the result of withdrawal from his medication. In another hour, possibly less, he’d become a danger to the resort town of Dos Rios as well as to himself. With Alicia gone, he had to focus on what he could salvage. The evening had turned from one of the best in his life to the worst situation possible. He raked his fingers through his hair and exhaled hard. 110

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Ever since the day he’d first left this place he’d lived in fear of being discovered. It would destroy his career in the medical field and his life if anyone knew of his disease. He could be discriminated against due to the danger he posed in his workplace and to the general public. But he’d been honest with Alicia after years of hiding and lying. Six years of wondering if he’d truly curbed his desires had led him to much greater needs. And now it felt as though he’d lost everything. Buddy paused, the fur along his spine standing rigid. Head bent low to the ground, he growled at the looming darkness until Michael held back. Canine and hybrid sniffed at the air, their postures mirroring one another. Michael wondered if the dog smelled decay in the air, the pungent odor of sickness and rot. To him it had become a familiar scent, something that still haunted him from two years of working in a nursing home. Bleach never seemed to quite remove the stench from unwashed bodies and open wounds. Back in the days when he’d learned to keep his stomach from betraying the rest of his body, he’d learned seeing a blackened pit on the side of an elderly woman’s face was just as bad as smelling the wound that refused to heal. It seemed like a lifetime ago when the suffering of others made him pause rather than rush forward in pursuit. Buddy whined and risked a step forward, his tail nearly between his long, skinny legs. They walked near one another, slowly spreading out to cover more of the beach—or at least 111

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that’s what he wanted to believe. He had no idea if the dog he’d befriended understood the fear of a man. Perhaps he didn’t care if his occasional caretaker had adrenaline pumping by the gallon through his bloodstream. Perhaps he sensed Alicia and wanted to protect her. Perhaps another male dog scrounged for food near a garbage can up ahead and he wanted to guard his territory. The dog no longer mattered. The wiry hairs on Michael’s arms stood on end as he stalked forward, knowing She longed for another wicked game, one he had played years ago when he knew better, but thought he could remain invincible. Terror raced through him, connecting him by the thinnest threads he still shared with Alicia. White sand snaked across the ground, kicked up by the wind to hit him in the face and neck. The air around him smelled of blood, thick and sweet in the back of his throat. His nostrils flared, his tongue sweeping along his teeth where he could still taste her, salty like the slickness between her legs. With each step he imagined what it would feel like to cut her with his teeth, pierce fine, precise incisions into her neck and lap up each drop of her life with his tongue. He envisioned himself over her like an animal, she forced to her knees with her ass in the air and her arms bound above her head. He could almost hear her groan as he filled her, fucking her hard and without an ounce of mercy. When she screamed for him, he would fit his teeth into her, dangerously close to her spinal cord. Somehow danger made the bite sweeter, more satisfying. He gulped for each breath like a fish dropped onto a dock, 112

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inches away from relief, but still floundering in vain to escape. His hands trembled, his ears clogged with a great whoosh as though at any moment he’d topple over, pass out, and wake up hours later with sand in his nose and on his lips. “Mujer,” he said hoarsely, speaking her name as he had years ago, both begging for mercy and asking her for more. Denying Her had been more difficult than denying himself, but he’d managed to elude Her as long as he avoided eye contact. Something about Her eyes had always drawn him back. She had dangerous, deceitful eyes, cat-like and vicious while She continued to smile, her voice always soft and seductive. Through the whir in his head, a constant blender of his thoughts and the residual effects of drugs barely churning through his system, he heard Alicia. Please, don’t. Stop. No. Let me go. Please. No, please. Her voice faded, though he didn’t know if she grew weaker, or if he barely held onto the fragments. Buddy trotted further ahead, whining at Michael to keep pace or get left behind. The lighthouse came into sight, and he paused as though a fishing line reeled him back through the night. His gaze darted around, searching for a hint of others until it became clear to him—Mujer wouldn’t share. Alicia would keep her sated for months, possibly years. They both knew that. Draining her dry, a living woman filled with death, would intoxicate the feeder, leave them suspended in a state of orgasmic bliss for months on end. One night of 113

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divine enrichment provided the perfect state of being, a delicacy to both hybrids and vampires alike. He had to find her, be the first—if there would be a first. In the back of his mind he tried to convince himself he could be strong and keep himself from tearing into her flesh, though he wanted her too badly. “Let it be me,” he said under breath. For the love of false gods in every religion, let it be me. I can stop before she bleeds to death. I can force myself to close the wound and carry her to safety. One tiny drink, one harmless lap of blood from her veins. He jogged along the beach toward the faint, constant flicker of light from the old lighthouse until the battered doorway decorated with cobwebs like fine lace came into view. They’d been ripped to shreds, hanging loose from their intricate designs, useless and abandoned. Buddy stood barking at the door, using his front paws to scrape at the barrier as though his claws might be enough to break down wood. He growled, more feral than the hound, and the beast stepped back. One kick jarred him, but the door barely moved. Blocked, of course. She would know he would come for Alicia. She would know his intentions to claim her, take her as his own. Again he kicked at the door, heard the rusted chains clink together, heard the hinges creak and submit. He took a step back and rammed his body into it full force until the door jolted open, allowing just enough space for him to wriggle through. 114

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Splinters tore at his shirt and dug into his back. Panting, he started toward the wind of narrow stairs leading up toward the loft where the men who had once watched for ships to come in had stayed. She wasn’t up there. He could no longer hear her, but he felt her stream through the air, a trail of panic and dread. His hand curled around the railing, fingers scraped at the peeling paint and cold underlying metal. For a heartbeat he wondered if Mujer had led him to the wrong place, but he knew he hadn’t followed Her. He tracked Alicia, followed her by inhuman means. “Alicia!” he shouted. Bats and birds roosting for the night scattered far above his head, releasing debris and dust into an invisible shower he felt coat his face. Footsteps echoed from behind, a faint, constant tap. He whipped around and faced the darkness, the door he’d broken down hanging from its hinges. A man stood before him, his mustache thick and hanging down over his upper lip. Hands behind his back, he stepped forward and nodded. “Miguel,” he rasped. He brought his large, thick hands up toward his mouth and cracked his knuckles. “Alejandro,” he acknowledged. Beside him, Buddy lay down and whined. “What have I told you?” He fought the urge to drop to his knees before a true member of the undead, the first and only real vampire he’d 115

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ever crossed. “I want her returned to me,” he said, his voice steady and firm. “¿Por que?” Imposing behind the bar, the man now towered over Michael, his receding hairline greased into flowing waves, his round face unshaven. He looked nothing like the sleek images from horror flicks. With the build of a bear, he looked more likely to crush anyone who stood in his way rather than bite them. “Because…” I saw her first didn’t seem like the most convincing way to plead with Alejandro. He swallowed and lowered his gaze to the middle of the vampire’s chest, the wheels in his scientific mind spinning out of control. “She’s not safe. To us.” Alejandro flexed his hands. “Explain.” “What draws us to her is fatal. If we ingest what’s killing her, I think it might also kill us. Not in the same way, of course, since it’s not contagious, but it’s potent. Enough—and I have no idea what would be enough—would most likely destroy our organs.” “How do you know this?” “It’s a scientific theory.” Alejandro ran his tongue along his pointed teeth and scowled. “Do you think I give a fuck about your theories?” “You’re right. My theories mean nothing to you, but what would you do without your wife?” The vampire stilled, his eyes narrowed in thought. At last 116

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Michael knew he had Alejandro’s attention, as whatever happened to his hybrid directly affected him. Without his Mujer he would be forced to find a new lover and food source. “He’s lying. He wants her as his own.” Mujer appeared through a doorway behind the stairs and dragged Alicia forward by her hair. With her head bowed, he couldn’t see her face or her neck to know if she’d been bitten. The scent of blood hung in the air, though he didn’t know if it originated from the cut on her hand. Alejandro turned, his body stiffening as he faced his wife. They stared at one another for a moment, master and strongwilled slave both silent. The true blood possessed greater strengths and powers, leaving Michael to guess if he communicated with his woman through telepathy. The female hybrid remained stone-faced, her fist still tightly bound in Alicia’s hair, keeping her immobile. In silence, he willed Alicia to lift her head and look at him, give him some indication of her well-being. He expected her to lash out at him, but it didn’t matter. He needed to know if she’d been used, if he had left her a sitting duck to Mujer. Alicia shifted on her knees, a soft, trembling breath leaving her lips. Mujer wrenched her hand, sending Alicia off-balance and to all fours where she lay panting, exhausted from the drain of a hybrid controlling her. He’d long since forgotten how it felt to have another weave into his mind, grabbing him by the roots of his thoughts and lifting him nearly out of his consciousness. “And what if he’s lying?” Mujer snarled. 117

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Alejandro considered her words and met Michael’s eye. Hatred boiled behind solid red eyes as though he were made of hot coals. He wanted to tell the vampire he’d never had designs on Mujer, never once looked at her with interest. But it didn’t matter if he had or not. She’d bitten him, turned him into an entity much like herself, a half blood rather than a full vampire, a creature caught in twilight. “Better to miss a meal than…” He paused, and Michael waited for him to say it. Dead. The word the master had always denied. “Diseased,” he spit. Chin tilted up, he motioned for his woman to follow him. With a snarl Mujer forced Alicia’s head back and looked her in the eye. “Tremble for me.” Alicia’s lips parted, a cloud of hot breath lingering before her face. She squeaked in answer, a tiny, barely audible plea for mercy. Michael stepped forward and directly into an invisible energy wall, one of Alejandro’s tricks of the mind. He knew the vamp couldn’t hold it for long, not with sunrise around the corner. Predawn weakened, the first light killed. Michael knew he wouldn’t risk his life for his wife’s games. Trapped, he watched as Mujer bent and ran her tongue along Alicia’s quivering lips. Alejandro strode closer, his hands on his hips as he nodded in approval. “You taste so sweet, my dear,” Mujer murmured. “Like forbidden fruit.” She gazed up and met Michael’s eye while she ran her 118

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jagged fingernail across her victim’s throat, tearing a fine line into her flesh. Alicia stared up at her and gasped, her eyes wide and lips pale as a corpse. She knelt, her eyes fluttering shut as Mujer dragged her index finger along the cut and drew smeared blood to her lips. The female hybrid inhaled deeply, her full, parted lips, her eyes rolling back in pleasure as she smelled Alicia’s life source. A long, pink tongue slithered from behind her lips and savored the taste of blood while Alejandro and Michael looked on, both men salivating for a taste of their own. “Ah, much better than I remember,” Mujer groaned. She took Alicia’s hand and coated her palm with her own blood, then drew it up and examined it. Like a cat she lapped up fresh blood, her hips thrusting forward with each lick until she’d cleaned Alicia. “It tastes so very sweet, my love, like everything we’ve ever wanted.” Sunlight fractured through the doorway, and Michael could hold back no longer. He couldn’t watch Mujer victimize Alicia as she’d done to him all those years ago. Alejandro reached out to his wife, but Michael broke through their embrace and grabbed her by the throat, pinning her to the wall. He felt the vampire’s cold presence at his back, but ignored the threat. Life and death no longer mattered. Liberation from his plight, he told himself, through caring for another. He couldn’t save himself, but he could save Alicia. Mujer’s spine popped as he lifted her from the ground and stared her in the eye, hating her for what he’d become, pitying 119

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her for her lack of choices and inability to suppress what would one day kill her. “If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you. Both of you,” he said, his voice low and calm. Muffled by his own harsh breaths, he listened to Alicia sniffle at his feet. As much as he wanted to reach down and draw her up, he couldn’t touch her, not with the scent of her blood potent in the air. “You threaten me?” “I wouldn’t waste my time with a threat.” Slowly he placed her on the ground and pushed his hand against her trachea until he felt her struggle. He wondered why Alejandro allowed him to punish her, though he assumed the vampire issued his own, much harsher penalties for disobedience—and judging by the slight upward curl of her lips, she enjoyed it. But he wanted her to feel an ounce of pain, a tremor of fate turned to fatal. “Death, Mujer. It’s my vow to you,” he said.

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CHAPTER 16 Alicia The air turned bitterly cold and she exhaled, seeing a puff of hot breath leave her lips. Through the lingering cloud she saw Buddy lying on his back with his tail between his legs. He whined until the Mexican heat returned to the lighthouse and made her shiver at the extreme between cold and hot, life and death, vampire and hybrid. Her terror didn’t seem to fully register. Slowly she became aware of her trembling hands and the tears clouding her eyes, then the fresh, resonating pain from the scratch to her neck. She focused mostly on the pain, afraid of the numbness that 121

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had settled over her while Mujer had clutched her arm. She’d known what the insect felt like trapped inside the spider’s web, how fear made her struggling worse, how she knew what would happen, but stood powerless against it. “It’s not safe for you here, Alicia,” Michael said. He stood over her and shifted his weight as though he had any right to be afraid. “Are they gone?” His labored breaths filled the silence. “Yes. But I’m not.” “The medicine,” she said under her breath, realizing why he’d told her to leave him—and what he risked to come back for her. “It’s no longer working.” He gave a soft, barely audible groan, his shoulders slumping as though he were in tremendous pain. “I’m going into withdrawal.” Fear ripped through her and she reached for her throat as though covering the scratch could keep him from biting her. “Alicia,” he hissed. “You have no idea how much I want to…hurt you.” She covered her mouth with her hand and closed her eyes, knowing he could hurt her just as badly as the woman and the man who had been in the building moments earlier—possibly worse because she cared for him. “Will you?” she asked. “Not if I can help it.” “Then what do I need to do?” His shoes scuffed along the dirt and debris on the floor as he backed away. “Run from me.” 122

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“What happens to you?” She gazed up to see him staring straight ahead. “Michael, what happens if I leave you—” “It won’t be long until sunrise. Once it becomes light outside I’ll have very little time to return to my room and medicate.” “What happens if you don’t make it?” Again she waited for him to answer, but he seemed distracted, lost in his own private thoughts. She wanted to shake him, slap him until he looked at her and offered an answer. “Michael, what happens?” “I’m a greater danger to you,” he mumbled. Her head throbbed, her muscles aching down to the very fibers. She didn’t know if she could make it back to her hotel room without collapsing, but she couldn’t bear to leave him alone, regardless of the danger. All she could do was stay and hope she made the right decision. “What if we stay together? What if I help you get back to your room?” she asked, looking down at her hands. Bruises had most likely blackened her arms and legs, unseen beneath her clothing, but painful all the same. She’d been dragged across the beach, first by her wrist, then by the hair. The woman who had appeared out of nowhere proved much stronger than she looked—or Alicia had lost more stamina than she’d realized. Weakness was a sign of her mortality. Soon she’d be unable to rise from bed, unable to sit up, unable to move. “No.” She struggled to stand and he took a step back, his spine 123

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straight, his right hand coming up to cover his nose and mouth. Slowly she ran her fingers through her hair and no longer attempted to keep her tears at bay. “Was it true what you said to her? Can I pass this along to others?” He exhaled. “I really don’t know. In humans it’s not possible, but there isn’t research to support whether it would harm hybrids. It’s just a theory.” “Do you believe it?” “I don’t want to believe it.” His eyes flashed with garnet, his lips parting as his teeth extended into fangs. “For selfish reasons, I want your blood to intoxicate me.” “What would happen if you bit me?” His expression darkened, the fire in his eyes growing increasingly clear as the light above flashed every few seconds, waltzing along with her heart. “I know what I offered you before, but that isn’t a good idea.” “I’m not asking if it’s a good idea. Tell me what happens.” Michael held his hands out and gave a crooked, cynical smile. “This. Me.” She stepped closer and watched him falter, his chest heaving with each breath as he took hold of her shoulders and roughly gripped her, held her in a tight, tense embrace. “You look healthier than me.” “It’s the supplements.” “It’s better than whatever I’m taking.” “My life is a living hell.” 124

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She gritted her teeth and glared at him. “At least you still have it.” “I don’t have as much as you think.” His gaze softened, though stress still creased his eyes and hunched his shoulders. “There is much I’ve missed as a hybrid,” he said. “Companionship, a physical relationship, the touch of a woman…the smell of her flesh, the feel of her breath against my skin…it’s all been denied.” “You haven’t…been with anyone?” He hesitated a moment, his expression clouded with shame. “No, not until you.” She gave a nervous smile, afraid of him, yet unwilling to move away. Gently he ran his fingers through her hair and rested his chin on her shoulder, his body trembling as he traced his fingernails along her spine. “I didn’t want to risk anyone’s life…or my own. I needed time to test the supplements and the medicine I created before I rejoined society.” He paused and grunted. “It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it? All of this time I’ve worked and invested my time at the laboratory, but that’s it. The timing never seemed right, and if I slipped again—” “What happened when you slipped?” “The first time…” His voice trailed off, his gaze lowered. She wondered if he’d pull away and disappear forever this time. Or if he’d bite her at last. She didn’t know what frightened her more.

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CHAPTER 17 Michael He turned and stared at the railing with its peeling paint and remembered how he’d followed Mujer up to the top. Standing in the lighthouse conjured memories he’d barely been able to suppress, and knowing that Alicia had been delivered into the same situation sickened him. Yet she still invited him closer, allowed him to wrap his arms around her when he couldn’t bear to be apart a moment longer. “There was a woman who lived in the apartment above mine. I’d been seeing her for a few months, nothing serious, 126

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just the occasional dinner and invitation for coffee when I wasn’t at work or at school. A week before I left she promised she’d collect my mail and take care of anything else that might happen, and we went out to dinner. She’d mentioned how we really needed to decide if we just wanted to do dinner every once in a while or risk a little more.” Alicia nodded, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. He knew she’d been drained emotionally, if not physically, and with the sun coming up soon they’d both have to leave the lighthouse and face the daylight. “When I returned from my first trip here, I didn’t feel like myself and she suggested we should go jogging, which we did in the park. We stopped for a drink of water, and she ended up cutting herself when she went to tie her shoelace. I don’t even remember how she did it, but the smell of her blood in the air was more potent than anything else I’d ever experienced. I made her show me the cut on her finger, and when I saw the blood…I…I couldn’t stop myself.” “Did you kill her?” His gaze lowered. “The first time? No. I sucked the blood off her and it turned her on. She didn’t want me to stop.” “Really?” He nodded. “She found it extremely erotic to make love and have me bite the inside of her thigh, then lick her blood away. It became a game to her, a new way to explore. I’d tie her to a tree in the park, spread her legs, and pierce her behind the knee, then on the shoulder, next inches above her heart. We played with these daggers she bought online, sometimes 127

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cutting, sometimes just skimming along her arms and her stomach. One night, when she told me she was about to come, she moved as I bit her and I tore an artery in her groin. She bled to death right there, right by the lake. The police thought it was a predator in the park.” “You didn’t tell them, did you?” He stared at her briefly and pressed his shirtsleeve to his nose to keep from smelling her. “I couldn’t. Even though I knew I’d bitten her, I didn’t think it was me they should look for. I knew I was sick. I felt it.” “What happened?” His gaze lowered to the memory of wandering the streets late at night, trolling from one alley to the next. The later the hour, the more he saw, the worse the images burned into his mind. He could still see the haunted face of a teenager girl, her belly about to burst from the child inside, her skirt hiked up so high she hid little from her clients. There he was, a respected worker in the medical field, waiting to find someone stoned and bleeding in an alley, an easy target for a quick meal. “I fed from a police officer and then went through months of laboratory testing to see if I’d gotten an STD from him. Thankfully he turned out clean, but I knew I couldn’t take another chance. I stole two bags of blood from the blood bank at the hospital and paced myself while I tested medications I’d developed in my office. Just about daily I stole plates from the microbiology department and clean samples from central processing. Eventually I figured I’d be caught if I didn’t cook up something that would sate me.” 128

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“How long does it take to work?” “Depends on the dose.” “How much do you have left?” “Enough.” Alicia wrapped her fingers around his wrist. “If you bit me, what happens to you?” He swallowed, wanting the taste of her inside of him, wanting the intoxication he’d missed despite the consequences. Unable to look at her a moment longer he tore away from her grasp and wrenched the broken door open. Peach and pale orange scraped against the horizon, the first threat of sunrise. “I relapse.” He pushed his way through the doorway and felt Buddy wriggle past him, darting off ahead of him. Where the dog went he never knew, but if he saw the beast again, it would only be after sunset. Alicia followed close behind him. “What if you took your medication afterward?” “It regulates the condition.” He glanced at her, trudging forward with labored breaths. “But you wouldn’t be the same.” “I’d become like you?” “Dependent on medication for the rest of your life.” She tugged on his shirtsleeve until he slowed his pace. “I know.” “Is that what you want?” he growled. “All I know is I want to stay with you.” 129

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He turned and looked at her, finding himself still in the shadow of the lighthouse. Dark circles ringed her eyes, her face thin and worn from the disease eating her insides. He wondered how long she’d survive once she returned home, if she’d collapse in the airport and be rushed to the hospital. With a sigh he reached up and touched her cheek, running the pad of his thumb against her unusually cool cheek. He still felt the damp track left behind by her tears. “Not here,” he said, his voice low and harsh as he lifted his gaze and watched the light turn in the tower. It felt bitterly cold standing beneath the looming stone structure, the place where he had been changed. “Not right here.” She followed his gaze, then turned to face him again. “You were bitten in there, weren’t you?” Without a word, he nodded. “Is that why you came back for me?” “I came back for you because I didn’t want her to do it,” he snapped. He frowned and looked away. “You were… mine.” Her posture changed, her back straightening as she met and held his gaze. “For how long?” Before he could look away, she cupped his face in her slender hands. She caressed his cheeks, the scent of her life filling his lungs. He breathed her in, wanting her more than he could have ever imagined. She pressed her cold hands to his cheeks and shook her head. “I meant what I said to you, Michael. Being with you has changed everything for me. For months I’ve held my breath and just waited, but with you I 130

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look forward to another day, another night.” She smiled and he sensed her thoughts, images of their bodies entwined, her bare breasts dragging along his flesh as she kissed her way from his hips to his throat and mouth. “I don’t want to lose that. Not yet, not if I can help it.” “Are you sure?” “I’m sure.” He pulled her hand away from his face and laced their fingers together. “I don’t want to lose you either.” She exhaled and smiled at him. “What do we do?” “Come with me.”

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CHAPTER 18 Alicia He turned and looked at her every few steps as though he expected her to change her mind and resist, her calm, passive nature turning into a violent struggle. “Tell me what happens,” she said as he glanced over his shoulder and forced a smile. “How much does it hurt?” “It’s not like being stuck,” he said, apparently reading her thoughts once again. Her head had filled with hospital blood draw rooms and nurses in Spongebob Squarepants scrubs looming over her as they tapped for a good vein. “What does it feel like?” 132

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“You won’t feel anything until I pull out.” He flashed a quick, easy smile, one that reminded her of the first time she’d seen him. “My teeth, of course.” One grin took her fears away and she nodded. “Of course.” They walked up the stairs to his hotel room just before the pale yellow light of morning penetrated the indigo night. Her heart thumped, though she wouldn’t turn back. The way she saw it, she didn’t have much of a choice. If she helped him to his room and he took his medicine, she would die for certain. If he bit her and she moved—or he sank his teeth in deeper than anticipated—she’d bleed to death. If everything went as anticipated, however, she would become a hybrid, and that would give her years rather than months. Together they’d discover if her sickness would become his as well. But he didn’t seem worried. “How do you know—” “It’s not a virus,” he answered before she finished. “You can’t kiss someone with lung cancer or cancer of the mouth and become infected. It doesn’t spread, not like herpes or chicken pox.” He pulled the key card from his pants pocket and slid it into the door, removing it with one smooth movement. The green light above the handle flashed, and he pushed it down before it clicked shut again. The air conditioning greeted them, a blast of startling cold air that made her instantly fold her arms across her chest. “Sorry. I like it to feel arctic when I sleep,” he said. “But I’ve always been like that,” he added quickly, as though he 133

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wanted her to know it wasn’t a symptom of being a hybrid. Once he turned on the lights, she quickly scanned the room, which was a hell of a lot bigger than hers. He must have had the master suite in the place, since not only did he have a king-size bed, but a walk-in closet and double glass doors leading to what she assumed was the bathroom. She gawked, wishing she could keep her hotel room, or her own bedroom, half as neat as he kept his space. Aside from the bottles of pills lined up on the dresser and on top of the television set, she couldn’t tell the room was occupied. “How do we begin?” she asked. He’d started to tremble slightly, just like an addict without his drug. His gaze wandered to his medicine, then back to her. “That’s not my decision to make.” “But—” He swung away from her and began removing the tops of the medicine bottles. She watched for a while as he shook pills from each container and set them into a clear plastic cup. “This is insurance,” he said over his shoulder, snapping lids into place. While she looked on, he picked several capsules from the cup and tossed them into his mouth and washed them down with a bottle of water from the mini fridge. “Are you safe?” she questioned. “Not completely. I took a little less than half of what keeps me from craving in order to make sure I don’t go any further than necessary. I’ve already anticipated your taste and, if I’m right, I don’t know if I’ll want to stop even when I’m…full. Your blood is ripe to us, Alicia. The smell of you makes me 134

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want to gorge.” “Are you trying to scare me?” “I want you to make an informed decision, one including all the possibilities. This isn’t a way to save yourself, Alicia. It could kill you much faster than your leukemia. Realize I don’t want to hurt you, but you’ve asked me to put myself into a position where that’s very possible.” Such a medical mind, she thought, always precise and calculated. Even though she didn’t want to think of what could happen, she appreciated his honesty. She shifted her weight and tilted her head to the side, attempting to lighten his dark mood. “Do you have a privacy practice sheet for me to fill out?” He placed the last bottle on the dresser and turned to face her, his plastic cup of pills in hand. The plastic crackled as he tightened his grip around it, as though he feared he’d lose the contents. “Hand me that pen and pad of paper by the bedside,” he said, matching her dry sense of humor. In a single, long step he closed the distance between them and ran his free hand up and down her arm. “You’re freezing. Let me turn off the air for a while and warm you up.” “Is that how you plan on warming me up?” Her words surprised her, and before she could look away and clear her throat, he pulled her closer and rested his cheek beside hers. “There are about a dozen ways I can think of warming you up until you’re scorching hot, Alicia.” “What’s at the top of your list?” 135

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He looked over her shoulder. “It’s been a long night. I could use a hot shower.” His suggestion hitched the breath in her throat, and she imagined his broad hands running down her naked, wet body. She wanted to lather shampoo between her palms and run her fingers through his thick, long hair while he played with her breasts and rubbed his thumbs around her nipples, the heat of his touch hotter than the stream of water cascading down their bodies. It made her more nervous, even though she wanted him, all of him. Lips pursed, she ran the palm of her hand up and down his chest, admiring the flat plane of muscles stretched taut beneath his clothing, feeling his harsh breaths against her face and neck. God, how she wanted him, every inch of him to belong to her. He’d been hers for a night. She wanted him for the rest of her life. “Michael,” she whispered. He guided her into the bathroom and tore at her clothes while she did the same to him, neither one of them concerned about buttons flying off or seams ripping. He found her lips at once and kissed her hard, pushing her against the bathroom wall between the towel rack and the glass door. “Spread your legs,” he ordered, sliding his hand into her panties and cupping her, his fingers gently rubbing against her labia. His teeth clamped down on her neck, but didn’t break the skin, and for a moment she stood perfectly still until he pulled away. “And trust me.” 136

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“I do.” His middle finger sank into her, stroking just above her clitoris. “Then you tell me when.” She shivered at his touch and placed one foot flat against the wall, balancing herself with the aid of the towel rack and one arm looped around his neck. He had her pinned against the wall and his rock-hard body, a slave to his desires and her own. She closed her eyes, wanting to feel him, to know the power of his desires and the gentleness of his caress. She wondered if the medicine had kicked in yet, or if he fought for self-control. “You’re wet,” he murmured between hard kisses. Her fingers tangled in his hair and she gave a rough tug, pulling him to her until she felt his cock hard against her belly. “But I want to make you wetter.” He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into the shower. She struggled to remove her panties and fling them out the glass door before it shut. Beneath the soft glow of the vanity lights, she took in his appearance and couldn’t wait to soap up her hands and enjoy the feel of him beneath her slippery fingers. “Turn on the water,” he instructed. The stall was big enough for two, the shower head above them a twelve-inch stainless steel circle designed to simulate rain. On the side sprouted additional sprayers for a full-body wash as well as a handheld extension that immediately garnered her interest. She purposely bent in front of him, only to be greeted by 137

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his hands petting her ass. She turned on the faucet, groaning as the first drops of water accompanied his hands skimming her spine. “Here.” He handed her the extension while he dragged his fingers from the base of her spine down between her legs, carefully rubbing against her sensitive, puckered ass and her tight, wet pussy. “I want to watch you.” “Watch me?” She turned toward him, the spray of hot water running down her leg. “You heard me, Alicia.” He positioned her up against the cold tile wall and began rubbing soap between his hands. “You’re going to use this and I’m going to watch.” With a nervous swallow, she ran the hot water along her shoulders and across her chest, feeling her nipples tighten to the hard, steady flow. She met his eye, watching him as he watched her, and saw his gaze alive with desire for her. Slowly she moved the sprayer down her body, circling around her belly button and the gentle slope of her uterus until she began to ache. Michael stepped forward and placed his soapy hands on her breasts, kneading and rubbing her until she sighed and parted her thighs. She welcomed the feel of his rough hands against her flesh and the heat of water between her legs. “That’s it,” he said softly, gazing down to watch her move the sprayer back and forth. She followed his gaze and found herself staring at his penis, which he’d begun to stroke. Back and forth he pulled on his flesh, his hand sweeping down to fondle his testicles, then 138

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gliding up to rub the plum-colored head. He flicked at her nipple and she quivered, feeling the effect of his touch low in her belly where she thought she might burst. Her clit throbbed, the water pressure not quite strong enough. She swallowed, feeling herself teeter on the edge between satisfaction and a buildup to disappointment. “I need you,” she said under her breath, afraid she wouldn’t be able to speak at all. It seemed as though every nerve in her body had directed itself to her clitoris. “Not yet.” “Yes, right now,” she pleaded, running the sprayer back and forth as she leaned back and arched her spine. Blindly she adjusted the dial until the stream turned into hard, pleasureinducing thumps of hot water against her aching flesh. “Touch yourself, Alicia,” he said. “Let me watch you.” She held her breath and released the sprayer, ignoring it as it took on a life of its own and sprayed their feet. She needed release too much to care about anything else in the world. With her legs spread wider, she plunged two fingers between her legs and rubbed circles around her hard clit until the first waves of orgasm swept over her. Eyes closed, she groaned and pushed her hips forward, sliding her fingers into her vagina and feeling her muscles clench. She imagined Michael inside of her and murmured his name, relief and liberation washing over her. She wanted this more than she could have ever imagined. “Louder,” he ordered. “Fuck me,” she murmured. “Fuck me, Michael. I need to 139

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feel you.” “Where?” “Inside of me.” “You want me buried in your tight cunt?” “Yes,” she hissed the single word, surprised at how his words affected her. “Then tell me.” “Fill me,” she begged, her voice strained with need. She felt like weeping, but she wanted him to hear her, to know what she wanted. “I need you.” “Say it,” he ordered. She bit her lip. “I want you in my tight cunt.” He nodded. “What else?” She dragged her gaze down his body slick with water and watched the way the muscles in his arm moved with each sweep of his hand across his belly and cock. When he found her watching him, he cupped his testicles and smiled at her with fire behind his eyes, obviously enjoying every second of her show. “I want you to stop playing with yourself and fuck me until I scream.” “I will, Alicia,” he promised, his voice just as strained as hers. “I’ll do whatever you want.” She pulled him beneath the shower head, drenching him as she pressed her lips to his. With her hands slick from her own juices, she took hold of his erection and pumped him, teasing him with a firm grasp just under the head of his penis. “Right now,” she said between her teeth, hooking one leg 140

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around his hip. He didn’t argue or deny her. With brute strength he pinned her to the wall and lifted her from her feet until she wrapped both legs around him. Like an animal, he thrust into her, jolting her body until she thought the force of them joined together would make her come. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she braced herself against him and felt him move inside of her, quick, short, greedy thrusts of a man who wanted to get off, not make love to her. Droplets of water clung to her eyelashes, but she continued to watch him, study his feral expression as he gritted his teeth, his nostrils flared. She barely recognized him, but the sound of his grunts and the feel of him pumping her harder with each thrust electrified her. This is how it would be between them, always urgent, always daring. She held onto him, ran her fingers through his wet hair and closed her eyes, feeling herself on the verge of a powerful, body-numbing orgasm. “Michael,” she said, her ass slapping against the tile wall in rhythm with their hard fuck. His teeth skimmed along her shoulder, making a trail up to her throat where her pulse throbbed. “Alicia,” he groaned, his strokes lengthening, his body forcing hers up. He bumped against her clitoris until she couldn’t hold back a moment longer. Lights blazed before her eyes, sparkled and 141

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intruded upon her vision until her lids lowered and she screamed, feeling her vagina contract around him, her clitoris so sensitive it almost hurt. Within seconds, she felt the heat of him coming inside of her, filling her with his seed. He gave one last, wrenching thrust, his hips grinding against hers until he shook and she no longer knew if it was from his climax, his withdrawal, or his desire for blood. She closed her eyes as her feet touched the shower floor. He stroked her still, as though unwilling to release her. “I will never allow anyone to harm me as long as you are…” He paused, struggling to catch his breath. “My keeper. I swear to you, Alicia, you have my loyalty, no matter what happens now, no matter how long we have together.” “Michael,” she whispered. His tongue tested her throat, swept a thin, fiery line just like the alcohol swab before the needle. He made her feel like she wasn’t dying, like another day existed beyond the darkness of night. “Tell me,” he breathed. “I want to stay with you.” His teeth pressed down, tested her boundaries as she ran her fingers through his damp hair and felt his chest heave against hers. She had a feeling nothing would ever frighten her again, not with Michael belonging to her. “I’m ready.” 142

GABRINA GARZA

Mom, crazy person, and animal rescuer. That’s the gist of it. A native of the Chicago suburbs, Gabrina Garza writes to get out of doing the dishes. When she’s not writing or dodging household duties, she’s either embarrassing her children in public or walking her foster dogs, of which she has way too many. Check out her website for all you never wanted to know: www.gabrina.com. *

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Freedom can be denied, but desire and love know no bounds… Nasora, a born healer, finds herself increasingly drawn to a young fighter named Adeno. Her only purpose in the arena, however, is to heal the fighters if they return alive and victorious. And time and again, Nasora brings back Adeno from the brink of death. Adeno’s body is meant only for combat, yet the connection Nasora feels toward the arena warrior deepens into something primal…something forbidden.

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