Ryality Bites

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Ryality Bites ISBN # 1-4199-0630-5 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Ryality Bites Copyright© 2006 Dawn Madigan Edited by Heather Osborn. Cover art by Syneca Electronic book Publication: May 2006

This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 443103502. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

Warning: The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. This story has been rated E–rotic by a minimum of three independent reviewers. Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (Erotic), and X (X-treme). S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination. E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature. X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

RYALITY BITES

Dawn Madigan

Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks found in this work of fiction: Glock: Glock, Inc. Jack Daniel’s: Jack Daniel’s Properties, Inc. Kryptonite: DC Comics Lara Croft: Core Design, Ltd. Michelob: Anheuser-Busch, Inc. Superman: DC Comics

Ryality Bites

Chapter One She was dying for a drink. Okay, so dying was probably a bad choice of words, considering she’d already died in twelve-hundred-something BC. Ryal shifted with unease on her stool, clutching the bar for support. The joint’s lowkey lights and the loud buzz of human chatter and outdated music were a strain on her charged up nerves. She ran her tongue over her dry lips, thirst pulsing low in her stomach like a hot ache. She was so weak, the worst damage she could do right now was leap at a human and whisper “Boo!”. “What can I get you?” Her head snapped to the man behind the bar. She studied him uncertainly. Dark and slim, the weary look in his eyes was edged with impatience. “A drink?” he repeated, leaning over to wipe the counter’s greasy surface with an even greasier dishrag. “What can I get you?” Ryal pointed at a blond, muscle-bound man who stood leaning against the bar further away from them, tilting back his beer bottle with a hand encased in a black leather glove. “Him,” she said. He snickered. “Christ, what are you on? I’m a bartender, honey, I ain’t your pimp.” He slapped a heavy glass on the counter, pouring in a strong-smelling, amber liquid. “Jack’s on the house,” he said. “Lay off the drugs, they’ll just mess up your pretty little head.” Ryal ignored the glass, her eyes fixating on the strong pulse beating at the side of the bartender’s neck. She stared for a fraction of a second too long—long enough to

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make him squirm uncomfortably. Silently cursing her rusty predator’s instincts, she made an effort to curb the raw hunger in her eyes. Wrapping unsteady fingers around the glass, she dragged it to her lips, downing the whiskey in one gulp. The stuff tasted awful—it wasn’t the kind of drink she had in mind. She managed to shoot the bartender a dirty smile, running her tongue around the rim of the glass as if she were about to blow a big, juicy cock. “Fuck,” he mumbled, watching her mouth. “Okay,” she said swiftly. He wasn’t her taste—she preferred the blond—but she was desperate. Shaking his head, the bartender inched away from her along the bar. “Sorry, babe, I’m on a pussy diet.” Bastard. If there ever was a rock bottom, she’d just hit it. She should’ve known better than to walk into a bar named Booze. Her eyes followed the bartender as he hunched over the counter and slipped a word to the blond super stud, gesturing her way with his head. The Viking nodded and chugged his Michelob. By Zeus, but the blond was a great piece of dick. Not a pound over his ideal weight, and all of it tattooed muscle. His hair was harshly pulled back into a thick braid that swung down to his waist. He had a duster on, but earlier she’d gotten a brief glimpse of his upper chest—just enough to see the intricate tattoos snaking up his neck and slipping underneath his overcoat. She couldn’t wait to see exactly how far down they went. His gaze swung her way, meeting hers. Even beneath the dim lights, Ryal’s superb night vision told her that his eyes were razor-sharp and icy-blue…as well as startlingly familiar.

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She leaned against the bar, fighting a dizzy spell. Among the blare of Eighties dance music, her acute hearing made it possible to discern the sound of her whiskey glass smashing against the black-and-white checkered linoleum floor. She was losing her mind. Hungry for sex and maddened by thirst, she was finally losing it, thinking the tattooed hunk was watching her with Ailig’s eyes. But she’d watched Ailig die… “Having second thoughts about fucking me?” “W-what?” Ryal snapped back to reality, her eyes whipping up to the blond’s face. He was standing so close to her, the two of them made a solid isle of intimacy amid the bar’s shifting customers. He had but a trace of an accent. His voice was as good as his looks—low and rich, it poured over her like warm brandy. Ryal’s breath caught in her throat. Even his voice made her wet, for the gods’ sake. His lips twitched in wry amusement. “The way you were checking me out, it could only mean one of two things.” “Really?” she murmured. “Yeah,” he said. “You want to fuck me.” “That’s one thing,” she replied. “What’s the second?” Holding her gaze, he leaned a hairsbreadth closer, enough to make her skin feel charged all over. “The second one,” he said softly, “will get you killed.” Holy Aphrodite. The man was as serious as a stake to the heart. Ryal scanned his face, searching for any hint of Ailig. Her eyes fell to his chest—to the black tank stretched tight over his impressive pecs, showing the outline of a barbell piercing in his left nipple. She extended a slim forefinger, lightly tracing the colorful tattoo that slipped beneath his tank. It was futhark—the Runic alphabet. She had no idea what it meant, though—her Scandinavian was sucky at best. “Give me a name to use when I scream,” she said, one brow arched teasingly. 7

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“Hayden,” he replied, reaching out to brush his knuckles against her cheekbone. Ryal trembled, her hand jerking away from the runes decorating his chest. She was unprepared for his gentle caress, so at odds with his feral looks. Unprepared for the name he’d supplied. Pieces of the puzzle—the Runic tattoos, the blond braid, the dark gray duster—all snapped into place. Ryal somehow managed to keep the tremble out of her voice as she stated, “You’re Hayden Rolf.” His smile scarcely broadened. “Just Hayden.” Her heart, as slow as the darn thing was beating right now, seemed to stop altogether. She’d just picked up the baddest vampire slayer in the mid-Atlantic. Could this Norse god be her Ailig? She remembered seeing his pic on the www.OfficialSlayers.org website. Her exact thoughts at the time had been, Please come slay me, Mister! Beware of what you wish for, was right! Ryal regarded Hayden with a steady smile, trying to penetrate through his stony façade. Did he know who—what—she was? Her telepathic probing bounced off an impermeable shield. She couldn’t read him. Shit. Hayden’s piercing blue gaze traveled down the length of her body, stripping her down to her stiletto heels. It wasn’t that hard to do—despite the freezing weather, all she wore beneath the ankle-length leather coat was two bands of red—a tube top and a miniskirt—and beneath that, she went commando. His eyes shifted back to her face. Simmering with cold fire, they sent icy-hot chills chasing down her spine. Leaning lower, he engulfed her right hand in his massive one. “Are you just looking?” he whispered into her ear. “Or do you want to do a little more?”

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Ryal froze at his touch like a deer caught in the headlights, electricity shooting from their joined hands up the length of her arm. His virile scent permeated her senses. There was something familiar about it—an elusive, intimate thread… She closed her eyes, biting into her bottom lip. His hand felt like…home. Oh Zeus. Ryal didn’t protest as Hayden tugged her up from her seat and led her past the bodies twisting on the small dance floor. Jerking the back door open, he stepped outside, drawing her out after him. It was a below-zero Philly night. Ryal took in a big lungful of chilly air. She didn’t need to breathe, she just couldn’t lose the habit. Drained of blood, she shivered roughly, her useless breath blowing out in a small cloud of frost. Struggling not to trip over her stilettos, she wondered what she was going to bump into next—Hayden’s cock…or his wooden stake. She preferred cock. She was dressed for sex, not for a fun-run. It hardly mattered, anyway, if she did try to cut and run—undead or not, she was as good as dead. If Hayden didn’t kill her now, Rubeus likely would, when he finally found her—after he took what he wanted. At least with Hayden, sex was an option. Rough, earth-shattering, fucking wonderful sex… Hayden stopped. Ryal swayed, dizzy and cold, the slayer’s hand infusing her skin with heat. His grip on her hand tightened. She sucked in a shuddering gasp as he caught her waist and swung her into a niche where shadows pooled thicker than the night. His broad chest pinned her against the wall, crushing her breasts. She felt the brush of his unshaven jaw against her cheek as his mouth dropped to her ear.

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“Is this what you had in mind?” he whispered huskily. His leather-encased hands smoothed up her bare waist to the red top that strained over her breasts, before roving back down to her ass. Ryal moaned, her neck arching in reflex. Her hands flattened against Hayden’s hard chest. Heat. Sex. Blood. She needed it all now, so bad that it hurt inside. Ryal parted her thighs, her pussy aching to be filled. Hayden’s large hands squeezed her ass through the skirt, lifting her tightly against his lower body. His erection pressed into her flesh in a long, hard line. His mouth crushed her lips as he dragged her miniskirt up her ass, digging his fingers into her naked buttocks. She opened her mouth wide around his tongue, meeting his assault with lips and tongue and teeth. Gods, his hot, sharp mouth tasted like ambrosia. Her fingers clawed into his deliciously hard pecs. She started to move against him as wantonly as his hands allowed, grinding her hips into his hard muscles. His strong fingers kept kneading her ass. He hunched lower, pressing her harder against the wall, sweeping her right thigh up to hug his waist. Her skirt crumpled further, riding high upon her hips. Hayden moved between her splayed thighs. Slow. Hard. Sexy. Her naked pussy rubbed urgently against the stiff bulge packed in his pants, creaming the leather with her juices. Shifting against her, he stroked the underside of her raised thigh from the hollow of her flexed knee up to the cleft of her ass. She groaned into his mouth as his long fingers explored her butt, teasing around her anus without fully penetrating her. His hand slipped deeper down, finding her humid heat. His fingers slipped along her slit, tracing the curves of her swollen labia. They made a slow U-turn around her clit and stroked

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back to her vaginal opening, slowly invading her wet heat. He started to finger-fuck her to the rhythm of his hip thrusts. His left hand abandoned her ass cheek and wrestled her top up her narrow rib cage, exposing and cupping one full breast. Ryal whimpered into his mouth. A familiar tingle in her palate warned her of her budding fangs. Not now! It wasn’t the right moment for a drink—not with this guy. She was losing control… Two fingers and a plenty-hard man after a bit of abstinence, and she couldn’t keep her canines in her mouth. Hayden’s fingers were exploring every wet inch of her pussy, pressing into her flesh in a wicked, circular rhythm. His mouth locked onto hers. His hand caressed a delicious spot inside her, throwing her over the edge. She struggled against his mouth, her cunt clenching on his hand in a forceful climax. She couldn’t handle it… Her pussy was still convulsing on Hayden’s fingers as she wrenched her lips from his and buried her face in his powerful shoulder. A mistake… She got an extreme closeup of his prominent jugular, slanting across the side of his muscled neck. Her fangs lengthened in unchecked response. She hissed in open-mouthed agony, her red fingernails biting deep into Hayden’s pecs, close to ripping his shirt off his chest. He froze against her, not at the minor pain, but at the sound she made. Ryal grew very still against his shoulder, forgetting even to pant. Almost gently, he tugged his fingers from her cunt’s wet embrace. Gripping both her arms, he pushed her away from his body heat, locking her against the wall. His eyes scoured her face, flashing icy-blue in the dark. Desperate, she probed his emotions again. Her empathic exploration proved useless. She stared at the sculpted lines of his face, his set jaw. She couldn’t read his

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expression, no more than she could read his feelings. She relaxed into Hayden’s hold, nude but for the crumpled strips of red fabric that failed to cover her breasts and the dark fuzz of her mound. She closed her eyes, not giving a shit anymore. A couple of slow heartbeats had passed and nothing painful happened. Ryal dared a look. Hayden’s eyes held an odd intensity. Was there a hint of recognition within the icy blue? His right hand was raised shoulder level, clutched around the meanest wooden stake she’d ever seen, its honed point aimed straight at her heart. His leather-encased fingers were still wet from her cunt. A smile tugged at her lips. “I guess a drink is out of the question,” she whispered. Hayden’s fist tightened on the stake. He spun in a blur, shoving it hard and fast into the chest of the vampire that had popped up behind him. The vamp’s outraged shriek faded as he dissolved into nothingness. Ryal blinked, trying to reaffirm her grip on reality. She hadn’t made out the markings on the attacking vamp’s silver ring, but she knew who he’d belonged to. One of Rubeus’ vamps had just found her. And Hayden had just slain him. Her poor-excuse-for-a-life had just been saved by a friggin’ vampire slayer! She steadied herself against the wall behind her as Hayden swung his heavy boot into the chest of a tall, hissing woman, launching her back into the darkness. He dropped to roll against the paving stones, evading a high kick to the head from a third attacker—a dark-clad, lithe man. She recognized him as one of Rubeus’ vamps even without checking his ring.

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A pistol-crossbow sprang into Hayden’s outstretched right hand. He aimed it at the man and squeezed the trigger, already loading a second bolt as the vampire shuddered out of existence. The female vamp rushed back from the night just in time to slam straight into Hayden’s second bolt. Her shrill cry still echoed after her body had disintegrated into thin air. In less than a minute, the night had grown quiet again. Zeus. Hayden was still braced against the pavement. Was he hurt? Ryal wavered away from the wall, her unsteady gait barely supporting her. “Ailig,” she mumbled, extending her hand to him. He swung her way, quick as lightning, his pistol strung with a third lethal bolt. Ryal halted uncertainly, licking her bruised lips. Then her world went dark.

Despite the lousy shape she was in, she was amazingly beautiful. Hayden crouched above the unconscious woman. He’d never seen a vampire swoon before, and he’d seen plenty—thanks to his night-vision contact lenses. He pressed two fingers against her pale neck, checking for pulse. Vampires did have a heartbeat. It mostly ranged from close to zero beats per minute, to about a hundred beats per minute—depending on how high on blood they were, and whose blood it was. Her pulse was close to nonexistent. Her skin felt cold and dry beneath his fingertips. Any green intern on a busy ER shift would unhesitatingly declare her dead and clear her away to the morgue, not bothering with CPR.

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Trapping her chin between a thumb and a forefinger, Hayden took a good look at her face. Aside from her paleness, she had Mediterranean features—Greek would be his guess. Dark half-moons lingered beneath her eyes, and her cheeks looked sunken. This vamp was seriously famished—he was surprised she’d found the strength to keep on her feet as long as she had, and do it as sexily. That was why he hadn’t been sure earlier, back at the bar, just what she was—she might have been a junky looking for a fix. To be sure, he’d had to take her outside and lure her fangs out with sex. It was the oldest trick in the slayers’ book. Only, he couldn’t bring himself to stake her. He’d frozen with the stake poised over her sluggish heart, and couldn’t deliver. There was something different about this one. Her eyes. Her kiss. The name she’d called him, just before she’d passed out. He hadn’t even asked her for her name. He hadn’t thought he’d need it later. Hayden slid his arms beneath the vampire’s meager weight, gathering her up into his solid embrace. He could always stake her later.

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Chapter Two “Alexandros,” she purred into his chest. He brushed his knuckles against her cheekbone, light as a butterfly’s wings. “No Greek while you’re bedding me, lass. Speak in a language I can bloody understand.” “Aye, my Laird Ailig.” “That’s more like it.” He rolled to lie above her, trapping her slim body beneath his massive one. A shock of red hair tumbled over his roguish face. “I hunt food for you in the daytime. I keep you warm nightly. At least use my proper name.” “My Laird Ailig MacRory.” She grinned up at him, her fingers tracing the sinews in his strong back. “But Ailig does come from Greek. It means Alexandros—Alexander, Defender of Men.” “The MacRorys’ distant forefather, Somerled, was a Norse heathen.” He lowered his mouth, tasting her bottom lip with a soft bite. “And I’m a simple Highlander. There’s nothing Greek in me, lass.” “Just your name,” she teased him. “All good things come from the Greek.” “Like you.” His mouth captured hers in a long, thirsty kiss. She kissed him back as his hair surrounded her face like a dark red veil. Her legs wrapped tight around his lean waist. His tongue explored her wet heat, shifting from sharp, agile thrusts to sinuous caresses. Cradling her head in his large hands, he teased around her lengthening fangs, unafraid of what she was, eager to savor every bit of her. It was like a titillating drug…the feel of his naked, hard muscles moving over her flesh, of his damp chest hair teasing her breasts. “Ailig.” Al-ik. She gasped his name as he thrust between her thighs. His cock breached her slow-parting muscles, plowing deep inside her wet cunt. Her thighs squeezed hard on his body. “Ailig. Yes…”

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His mouth fell to her neck. He licked the hot sweat off her skin, then sucked her flesh between his lips. She writhed underneath him as his hips built a slow, hypnotizing rhythm between her thighs. Sea waves lapped at Skye Isle’s craggy shores, pulsing with Ailig’s movements. “AAilig…” she panted, her neck arching beneath his ravenous kiss. “I’m…afraid for you. If anyone ever finds out about me…with King James’ endorsement of the Witchcraft Act passed by Queen Mary…” He drove himself hard inside her, and she cried out in a blend of rapture and shock. “James Stuart has no claim over the Highlands,” he mumbled, his voice rough. “And the only law I abide by is my chieftain’s, Lord of the Isles.” He fucked her harder, faster, until all she could say was his name, and her swirling thoughts dissolved into darkness. Outside, the furious ocean pounded against the cliffs. Only one thing existed—Ailig’s body heat, chasing away the cold. She’d never have enough of him, yet she would never take his blood. He was Roman Catholic, and she wouldn’t damn his soul. More than a simple Highlander, Ailig was one of the Gallowglass—rough, fearless warriors descended from the Norse-Gaelic warlord, Somerled, who hundreds of years before had taken over the Hebridean Isles off Scotland’s west coast along with the Western Highlands. Every day he hunted small animals for her. Each night she donned her belted plaid dress, cinched over her breasts with a heavy, engraved silver buckle he’d given her. She would stand barefoot at the mouth of the small cave overlooking the sea and wait. He would follow her in, hunching to fit himself into the grotto’s tight opening, and drop his offerings to the ground. He would cautiously lay his massive battle axe—the Sparr—and his two-handed great-sword—the Claymore—on the grass-carpeted floor, and remove his helmet, setting loose the wild flame of his hair. She’d help rid him of his thigh-length mail shirt and the padded Aketon, and he’d joke that no other woman could carry the ring armor’s weight. And she’d smile, reminding him that she

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was no ordinary woman, and had much more than ordinary strength. She’d undo his broad leather belt, and strip him of his linen tunic, leaving him in naught but his form-fitting breeches. And then, bare-chested, he’d undress her to the ocean’s timeless rhythm…

“Tell me your name.” Ryal’s eyes flew open. She wasn’t in the seaside grotto with Ailig anymore. The undulating, muffled whisper she heard belonged to cars rushing on a distant highway, not the ocean. The gaze sliding down her body was icy-blue, not sea-green. Ailig was dead—had been for over five-hundred years. She tried to move, discovered that her wrists were shackled and anchored to the bed frame. Her ankles had been treated the same way. She’d been bound to the bed, spread-eagle. Straining her neck, she tried to lift her head off the bare mattress. She was wearing her coat… Just her coat. Hayden had taken care to strip off her skirt and top, then dress her in nothing but the coat…or maybe he’d simply slit them right off her skin. Her pussy grew wet at the thought of his sure hand sliding a blade underneath the skimpy red clothes, tight against the crease between her thigh and her groin. Her throat constricted on a painful swallow. She was so thirsty… “Your name,” Hayden softly repeated. “And then you’ll get your drink.” His blunt stare stroked over her nakedness, pausing over her full breasts, delaying even longer on her wantonly displayed pussy. Her body heated beneath his searing look. She felt her nipples tightening as his glance skimmed over them, her pussy gathering wetness as he watched. She managed a parched whisper. “You know my favorite drink?” 17

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“I have a rough idea,” he said. “So how come I’m still alive?” She tried to rotate her wrists within the metal cuffs. “You mean, how come you’re still undead?” His lips curled. “You pose no danger to me.” She gave up on yanking against the steel. “No danger…” she echoed. “Is that reason enough? For a slayer?” He bent low, taking her face in his hands. His body heat was a staggering contrast to the cool steel locking her wrists and ankles. His thick blond braid spilled down over his shoulder, teasing her left nipple. “Your name,” he whispered, his breath flowing hot over her mouth. She held his gaze, up close and personal, ignoring the way his touch made her shudder. “Ryal,” she said. “Ryal.” He hesitated, his warm breath washing over her lips. “Is it Greek?” “No. It’s a twist on Scots-Gaelic.” Straining up against the bed, she touched her lips to his. “A very long time ago, you named me Reul,” she whispered against his mouth, pronouncing the precious word, Rayl. “It means star. Because I only came out at night. You said I was your Reul-Iùil, your Guiding Star. And when you died, I couldn’t bear to use the name…so I mixed up the letters.” She pressed her mouth against his warm lips, closing her eyes, breathing him in. Her bound hands fisted against the bare mattress as she struggled to maintain the frail touch. Hayden’s hands shifted beneath her head and nape. He opened his mouth to her, accepting her tongue, stroking his own along its length in a sinuous, velvety caress. He abruptly broke the kiss, withdrawing from her. “I’m not him,” he said quietly, his hands still supporting her head. “I’m not…Ailig.” “Whatever,” she whispered, her lips curving.

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He let her head sink back against the mattress before releasing his hold on her. Standing up, he towered above her again. “I’ll go fetch your drink,” he said. “And then you’ll tell me about the three vamps at Booze.” “They were just pissed off at the lousy service.” She shrugged. The gesture lost its dramatic effect with her bound arms. Hayden missed it anyway, already cutting across the small bedroom on his way out. He came back carrying an infusion bag of whole blood and an IV set. Ryal’s nostrils flared at the sight. “Nothing fancy,” Hayden remarked dryly. “Just 450 cc’s of O-positive that I lifted from the local blood bank earlier. Stealing whole blood is bad enough without robbing them of the rare types.” She watched him drag over an IV pole. His quick fingers fiddled with the blood bag’s port, expertly inserting the intravenous line. His movements looked way too smooth. And here she thought she was the only fanged girl he’d dragged home for a drink! “Right now I can’t afford to cut you loose,” he said, slinging the blood bag over the pole, “so I’m improvising. We’ll use this IV to get the blood into your mouth.” “I thought that I posed no danger.” “Yeah. As long as you’re in irons.” He glanced down at her. “You’ll have to drink straight from the plastic. I’m saving the beer mugs for later.” Holding the IV catheter over her mouth, he manipulated the line’s roller-clamp. “Open up.” Ryal watched the dark-red liquid race down the plastic tubing, chasing the air out. Her gut clenched in painful anticipation. She opened her mouth wide, like an obedient little vampire. The first drop of blood hit her tongue. An ecstatic moan broke through her lips. She shuddered all over, close to climaxing from the mere taste alone. Still trembling, she strained up from the mattress to close her

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mouth on the plastic tube. Steel wrenched the bed frame with a foreboding sound. The ruby temptation, hovering so close to her lips, briefly infused her muscles with their old strength. “Easy, Ry.” Hayden slid the plastic tube between her lips. He reached down and snagged a pillow from somewhere, fitting it underneath her head. Ry. It sounded a bit odd, but Ryal liked how he said it. Her drink tasted far from perfect. Drinking blood from a bag was like drinking decaf. The blood wasn’t body temperature—though it had been out of the fridge for a while—and it carried the aftertaste of the anticoagulant preservative. But, Zeus, it had been so long… She closed her eyes and sucked like there was no tomorrow. With Rubeus hot on her tail, likely there was no tomorrow. Right now, she could hardly give a shit.

Standing above her, arms crossed over his chest, Hayden watched Ryal suck on the tubing as if she was sucking ice tea up a straw. She was stunning in nothing but iron and leather. Judging by her appearance, she was on the verge of an orgasm—her dusky-pink nipples hard peaks, her stomach taut and her pussy lips ripe and dewy. He’d been hard since he used his blade to slice the clothes off her pale, deep curves. He’d figured that stripped and bound, she’d make a vulnerable, easy target to interrogate. Right now, it looked like he’d dug himself his own deep hole. His eyes locked on her luscious, red mouth. Her lips tightened on the plastic tube, pouty, as if primed for a kiss. He imagined those lips kissing the fluid off the tip of his cock. He could almost feel her mouth sliding around his cock head, wrapping tightly around his shaft.

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His cock stirred, straining against his pants, just as it occurred to him that her saucy mouth came equipped with a nasty pair of fangs. By Odin, why couldn’t he stop thinking about the way she’d kissed him? He’d been kissed before—chaste kisses, tonsil-sweeping kisses, biting-your-lipwhile-orgasming kisses. But the way she’d kissed him… It felt like she’d been kissing him forever. She thought that they’d known each other once…a very long time ago. She’d even babbled about Scots Gaelic. He’d seen vamps go delusional with thirst before—likely she’d gone berserk with blood lust. Problem was, this nifty excuse hardly explained his own intense reaction to her. Hayden glanced at the infusion bag. By now close to half of it was gone. He hated what he was about to do…but this coquettish vampire hid a truth that he needed to sniff out of her. He’d recognized the silver rings on the three vamps he’d slain outside that sleazy joint. Why was Ryal important enough to have Western Europe’s master vampire, Rubeus, send his lackeys after her, all the way to South Philly? He knew one sure way to win her attention. Snagging the roller-clamp, Hayden cut the blood flow to her mouth. Ryal shifted against the mattress, spitting out the empty tube. Her tongue swiped over her bloodied lips. “I need…need more,” she whispered, shivering. “Please…” He scanned her face. “You’ll answer some questions for me first.” She twisted against the cuffs in a lightning-quick burst of violence. The bed’s hardwood frame creaked in protest. She wrenched her body a few more times before flopping back against the crumpled pillow. Hayden watched, motionless. “Why were the three vampires at Booze after you?” Her eyes burned pitch-black. “Hey, you big bad slayer,” she bit out, still trembling, “why don’t you do us both a favor? Just stake me and be done with it!”

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He leaned over her, his hands pressed flat against the pillow, framing her head. “I’m tempted,” he said softly. “Are you?” she murmured, her shaky breath rushing beneath his mouth. His lips sealed hers before he could give it another thought. She made a muffled sound, somewhere between a moan and a sob, her lips thawing beneath his hard pressure. He trapped her face in his hands, his tongue thrusting deep into her mouth. Her tongue met his in a rush of liquid heat. Her back arched against the bed as she struggled to get as close to him as the restraints allowed. She tasted so goddamn sweet. There was no trace of the blood, just her, hot and exquisite, and he couldn’t get enough. Not even as his tongue slipped against her fully extended fangs. Even the fangs felt…right. Everything about the kiss felt right. Before he knew it, his hand was slipping down her taut tummy, brushing her curls to get to her pussy. She gasped loudly into his mouth. Her hips strained up from the bed, her tethered thighs straining in vain to squeeze down on his hand as he cupped her cunt. He pulled back from her mouth, his mind trying to sort out what the fuck he was doing. Her lips followed his retreat, refusing to let him go. “I need more,” she breathed. “More what?” he whispered gruffly. “Blood?” “Just kiss me, Hayden.” “I thought you wanted me to stake you.” “There’s staking…and then there’s staking.” Her lips curled. “Hmmm.” Hayden needed to kiss her again. He rubbed his lips against her slow smile, feeling her mouth gape a bit more. His own lips curved against the narrow gap she offered. He extended his tongue into her sweetness. Her lips parted wider as her

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own tongue darted out to play with his. He pressed down harder. Their mouths joined airtight as each fought to thrust deeper inside enemy territory. He kneaded her clit as he kissed her, teasing around it in quickening circles. She kept moaning into his mouth. He slowed down before she climaxed, enjoying the frustrated little moan that slipped from her mouth to his. Coated in her juices, his fingers abandoned her erect clit, pushing back and forth between her swollen labia. He ran his thumb in wicked slowness around her vaginal opening. Her hips gave a slight jerk as his thumb slowly penetrated her. As if compensating for her bound legs, her silken walls clamped on his finger in hot welcome as he inched his way in. He pressed the rough pad of his thumb into her inner flesh, kneading slowly around the perimeter of her cunt. Ryal’s steady moans climbed in pitch. He switched his thumb with his wet index finger, sweeping her walls in a slow rotation, feeling her shudder and jerk. Her inner muscles slackened around him, admitting two more fingers. Cupping his half-buried hand, he pressed slow circles into her sensitized flesh just beneath her pubic bone. Ryal’s loud moans became small, rhythmic cries. Her knees flexed and relaxed as she struggled to move to his beat. She wrenched her lips from his, screaming, and his mouth slipped wetly to her throat. “I…I want to come with your cock inside me,” she mumbled, writhing against the steel cuffs. “Come now,” he commanded her softly, kissing the shallow groove over her right collarbone. His fingers kept kneading inside her as his mouth climbed up the lavish swell of her right breast, kissing the dusty pink halo of her areola. His tongue honed to a point, circling her, avoiding her nipple’s taut peak. “H-Hayden,” she moaned, her hands fisting. “Oh, Zeus…” “Come for me, Ry.” He drew her nipple into his mouth, suckling hard. “N-no…” Ryal arched sharply against the mattress, her eyes squeezed shut. “I-I want you to come with me…aahhhh…”

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His thumb brushed her clit as his fingers hooked inside her in a come hither gesture. She screamed loud and long, the length of her body tensing in the restraints, her pussy squeezing hard on his fingers in an endless fit of spasms. Seeing Ryal’s face erupt in raw ecstasy—feeling her getting off on his fingers— Hayden felt his balls tighten. His shaft throbbed in aching need of release. He needed a hot, wet pussy around his cock, and he needed it now. Not just any pussy—her pussy. Rescuing his hand from Ryal’s tight depths, he unzipped himself with damp fingers. Her eyes cracked open to glowing, dark slits, her pupils huge, as he climbed atop her. “Fuck me,” she whispered. “I won’t…won’t drink from you.” He couldn’t peel his pants off fast enough. Sinking between her splayed thighs, he propped himself above her. “I’ve never fucked a vampire before,” he murmured. “Yes, you have.” Her dark eyes were ablaze. “You were quite good at it.” He sagged down, pinning her body against the mattress. His tongue traced the seam of her lips in a long lick. “You’re delusional, Ry,” he whispered, his cock head bobbing against her damp pussy lips. “But you’re damn sexy.” “And you’re a…disbeliever.” She was trembling beneath him. He sealed her lips with a wet, hard kiss and thrust between her thighs. His cock slipped past the outer lips of her pussy, knowing its way with the confidence of a longfamiliar lover. He pushed past her initial, jerky resistance, hungry to get in, knowing he’d find her ready and willing to accommodate his girth. Their mouths dueled, wet and wild, as his hard shaft drove deeper inside. He groaned as her cunt sheathed his entire length in skintight, hot silk. A perfect fit. He pulled out and thrust back in, addicted to the old-new sensation of Ryal’s wet heat hugging his length. “Mmm…Hayden!” She squeezed down hard on his cock.

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Hayden groaned. He started a hard, fast pumping between her thighs. His hand found her left breast, giving the supple flesh a rough massage. She whimpered into his mouth, tensing abruptly, her cunt convulsing around his cock in a swift climax. Hayden kept still inside her, his breath hissing out. “Ry.” He shifted above her, taking her face in his hands. She was still trembling. His thumbs gently traced her bottom lip. “Are you okay?” It was a dumb question to ask a vampire. Especially a vampire he’d intended to stake a couple of hours earlier. “I’m perfect.” Ryal opened hazy eyes. “Just don’t…don’t stop.” She licked one of his fingers, sucking the tip into her mouth—the same finger he’d had inside her moments before. She released it with a small pop. “We’ll take it slow.” He moved above her, peeling the sweaty tank off his torso. Her eyes washed hungrily over the broad expanse of his chest. “That piercing looks hot,” she murmured. “Glad you like it.” He sagged against her, already hooked on the feel of her hard nipples grazing his pecs, her full, soft breasts compressing beneath his weight. Holding her gaze, Hayden started to move inside her again, his hips commencing an easy, in-out rocking motion. He trailed his fingers up the length of her bound arms, wishing he’d rid her of the coat, too. He couldn’t keep it nice and easy for long. Every small thrust within her lush, bound body was like tossing gasoline into a fire. His hips soon picked up force and speed. Within a few heartbeats he was ramming into her wet flesh over and over again. “Odin,” he murmured into the curve of her shoulder. “I’m sorry—” “Hayden,” she screamed. “Yes. Fucking yes!” Their mouths found one another, and there was no more talking.

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On his next hard shove she exploded around him for the third time. Hayden groaned low in his throat. He propped both his hands against the mattress, his abs tensing. Orgasm seized him in a red-hot rush. His hips jerked hard between Ryal’s bound legs as his cock shot burst after burst of hot semen. “Damn.” Spent, he dropped his head to the crook of her neck, breathing hard. Her breathy chuckle ruffled his hair. “I told you, you were quite good at it,” she whispered.

He released her from the cuffs. She drank the rest of her blood from a beer mug he’d fetched from the kitchen. Her hands were too shaky, so he helped her tilt the mug against her lips. When she was all done, he wiped her mouth with a damp towel. “When was your last time?” he asked. “Blood or sex?” “Either.” He dropped the towel to the mattress. “Six months for blood. Five hundred years for sex.” One golden brow cocked. “Long time.” She shrugged. “Had to keep a really low profile over the past six months, but tonight I was so thirsty, I just didn’t care.” “I had a hunch that anything other than human blood wouldn’t do the trick for you.” “Yeah, about three hundred years ago I found that out the hard way.” She gave him a pale smirk. “Makes me look pretty crappy, huh?” Hayden bit back a smile. “You don’t look a day past five hundred.” “Gee, thanks,” she muttered, but looked pretty pleased. Most vamps lost the ability to use animal blood for sustenance when they rounded five hundred years. In vamp terms, the changeover was called “Second Blood”, “First 26

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Blood” being the first time a vamp drew blood from a human. Theologians still argued as to when vampires damned their eternal soul—when they came back from the dead, or when they drew First Blood. Regardless, when he looked at Ryal right now, she looked anything but damned. Hayden hesitated. His fingers weaved into her pitch-black hair, gently tilting her head up. “Why were Rubeus’ vamps after you?” he asked, surveying her face. Her eyes widened. “You…remember Rubeus?” Hayden’s lips twitched. “I’m a slayer. That’s my job.” “Oh, no.” Ryal gripped his hands in both of hers, pressing them against her breasts. He opened his mouth to respond, hesitating as he noticed the wild look in her eyes. “Leave Rubeus alone,” she whispered, her tone urgent. “Please, Ail—Hayden. He’ll just—he’ll just kill you again.”

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Chapter Three It was deep winter. Long nights chased the sparse hours of daylight. She was waiting for Ailig at the cave’s mouth, her eyes tracing the crags and the winter-bare woodland for his stalwart, proud figure. Dusk darkened to pitch-black night, and he still didn’t come to her. When a full moon broke through the thick mantle of clouds, a muddle of rough voices drew near, rising from the seashore. The glow of torches soon followed, bobbing along the coast. Guided by instinct, she abandoned the grotto’s shelter, sliding into the darkness. Rough wind battered her face with icy needles of rain. Barefoot, she made her way down the curving main path that led from her cave, amid brushwood and frost-glazed rocks. Crouched beside a massive boulder that guarded the trail, she became one with the shadows. Her sensitive nostrils flared as she caught a whiff of smoke, sour sweat and sweet blood. Five men trampled past her hiding place, two of them bearing torches, three with their swords drawn. They conversed in Gaelic, their callous exchange punctuated by crude laughter. Clambering up the narrow trail, they tossed a bloody sack back and forth, pitching their gory load from one pair of hands to the next in a macabre game. Her eyes followed the men, lingering on the heavy sack. Her mind refused to grasp what her senses were conveying. She swept her soaked dress up her thighs and rushed down to the shore, past gravel and fern and dormant heather, its withered, white flowers beaded along its frozen stalk. She kept running and running ‘til she treaded on sand studded with lichen-covered rocks and seashells bruised her feet. The moonlight shone silvery on something big cast along the waterline. She lunged forward, needing to see what it was, though fear almost paralyzed her. She stumbled to a stop. 28

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Night-black waves were washing over a man’s large body, his great chest hollowed of his heart, his body decapitated. She recognized the blood-drenched shreds of Ailig’s long linen tunic, still belted with leather around his waist. She recognized his tight-fitting breeches. She fell to her knees beside him. His mail shirt and his Aketon were missing. An irrational protest boiled inside her. He was cold—he had to be cold, lying on the sand in the rain and the wind and the rising tide, in nothing but his tunic. She took his large hand in both of hers and pressed it against her breasts, trying to warm it. “I knew you’d show up, sooner or later.” She almost tuned out the soft voice that stroked over her nape like a chill breeze. Her head snapped to the lanky, dark shadow that leaned against a massive rock overlooking the sea. She caught a familiar flash of silver from his ring finger. “Rubeus.” Her lips were so cold she wasn’t sure a sound had come out. “Your human turned out to be quite a killjoy.” Rubeus shifted against the rock, his features sliding into the moonlight. Strands of dark hair shadowed his elongated face. “All my men got out of him before his own axe went down on his neck was per mare et per terras.” “By Sea and by Land,” she whispered, pulling a black lambskin glove from a hidden pocket underneath her breast-buckle. “Come again?” He drew closer. “Per mare et per terras,” she stiffly repeated, drawing the glove onto her left hand, concealing it in her dress’s abundant folds. “By Sea and by Land. It’s his clan’s motto.” “How…noble.” Rubeus was now standing above her. “All this inconvenience could have been prevented if you simply came to me.” “Last time we spoke was, what—over three hundred years ago? I didn’t know you were in Scotland. You could have made contact—” “Ah, but my dear Helene, the alternative was so much more fun.”

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“My name is Ryal,” she said coldly. “Ryal?” His fingertips touched her hair. “I like Helene better.” She bolted to her feet, shaking his hand away. He withdrew a step, unprepared for her rage. His gaze touched her gloved hand. “Don’t ever touch me again,” she said, very softly. “All this hard work…and you still forget your place.” Rubeus’ thin lips twisted in a cold smile. “But let’s set trivialities aside for now. You have something that’s mine, Helene.” “You mean this?” With effort, she returned his smile. Raising her gloved hand between their bodies, she opened her fingers. Something glowed ruby-red at the center of her palm. Rubeus staggered back, his forearm shielding his face. “You’re holding my property,” he hissed. “Can a thief steal from a thief?” The object in her hand didn’t seem to have an effect on her. She lifted it further, its bloody glow leaking from between her fingers. “If I gave you the stone, there’d be nothing upon this earth, no one able to stop you from taking over but the gods themselves…and they stopped caring long ago. Placing this world in your hands is unthinkable, Rubeus.” Rubeus withdrew another step. “Put the Apple of Eris back in its sheath and give it to me,” he commanded, his tone icy. “Do it, and I promise you a quick death, Helene. Do it, or else…” Underneath his sheltering forearm his eyes briefly ignited, losing their cool façade. Ryal shivered. “Come and get it,” she whispered. Her hand squeezed the pulsing stone. A crimson glow exploded from her tight fist. Rubeus shrieked. Sweeping his billowing mantle away from the glow, he faded into the darkness.

Ryal fell quiet. The room was dim, with soft light seeping in from the corridor, the air permeated with the heavy perfume of sex. Hayden had been watching her face for long minutes, his expression guarded. 30

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“Did you go back to the cave?” he asked at last. “Yes.” She paused. “The men had already left. I found the sack. It held…Ailig’s head. His…his heart. I buried it at sea.” Her eyes clung to his gaze. “I made good on my promise to you,” she whispered. “The men were mercenaries. It took me some time, but I found them. Hunted them down, one by one. I made sure that each lost a head…and a heart.” Hayden nodded slowly. “You did good.” Her breath escaped in a rush, as if it had been held for a very long time, waiting for these exact words to be spoken. He brushed his knuckles against her cheek, like he’d done at the bar…like Ailig used to do. She caught something in his eyes. Doubt. Pity… “You don’t believe one word I said, do you?” Ryal pulled away from his touch. She’d expected this. Still, it was like a punch in the gut. “I believe that you believe it.” Hayden paused. He wrapped his hand around her nape, drawing her head close. “I also believe that you’ve had one hell of a rough time lately.” “Oh, fuck.” She twisted away from his grip and pushed up from the bed. “Listen good, you…hotshot slayer!” She placed her hands on her hips, speaking like a parent would to a slow child. “I. Am. Not. Crazy.” His cool gaze followed her. “I didn’t say that you were.” She snorted. “Not out loud.” “I believe what I can see with my own two eyes.” Hayden’s face was unreadable. “Show me this…Apple of Eris, and we’ll take it from there.” “I don’t have it on me.”

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“I know.” His eyes dropped from her face down her naked body. His voice dropped as well, to a husky-soft blend that charged her skin with electricity. “I searched you…everywhere,” he murmured. Ryal’s face heated up. She’d lost her virginity three-thousand-plus years ago, and the man made her blush, for Zeus’ sake. Hayden rose from the bed in a flow of naked muscle. Pierced and tattooed, he looked like a rare, untamed beast. Her eyes fell to the broad wall of his chest, to the expanse of golden muscle inscribed with Runic letters. “What does it mean?” She touched the row of enigmatic square shapes on his upper chest. “It’s a Runic Triad.” He stood still beneath her light exploration. “A personal protective spell.” “Does it work?” she whispered, drawing her fingertips across the span of his pectorals. “So far.” His lips curled. Her fingertips skimmed lower, to his pierced left nipple, outlining the black, bent barbell topped with long spikes. Hayden held his breath. She let go of the piercing, teasing a slow circle around the flat coin of his nipple. “And what about this one?” Her fingers trailed down his hard abdominal wall over a superb design of a horned, tentacled monster. “That’s a Kraken, a sea monster. It’s strictly for pleasure.” Hayden reached out, pulling a black wisp of hair off her shoulder. “Mmmm.” Ryal let her palm rest just above the blond curls that topped his sex. “‘Below the thunders of the upper deep; Far, far beneath in the abysmal sea, His ancient, dreamless, uninvaded sleep; The Kraken sleepeth’,” she cited. “Tennyson.” Hayden smiled. He was fully erect. Her eyes stroked over the magnificent, hard cock pointing up at her. Zeus, to think that this monster had been

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inside her. A soft throb began deep within her damp pussy. She stepped to the left and escaped Hayden’s fingers, circling his motionless form. She touched the large tattoo decorating his right upper arm. “And how about this one?” she murmured. “It’s Aegishjalmur…a Helm of Awe.” Hayden didn’t budge, though his head turned to follow her movements. “It’s for protection. Resistance in battle.” Ryal’s dark brow arched. “There’s a hell of a lot of protection going on here,” she whispered, skimming her palm over his back—smooth, hard-muscled and clean of tattoos. His thick blond braid swung lightly beneath her fingers. Facing Hayden’s left arm, she paused. “I know this one.” She touched his inscribed skin. “Ailig had it etched into the back of his helmet.” “It’s a Vegvisir,” Hayden said softly, meeting her gaze. “A Runic Compass. The one who wears it will never lose his way at sea, even when thick fog hides the North Star.” “The Reul-Iùil.” She smiled, facing him again. “Yes.” She flattened both her hands against his chest and dropped her mouth to his left nipple. His cock nudged her stomach. Sucking his pierced flesh between her lips, she rolled the spiked barbell against her tongue. She didn’t mind the spikes. She was used to dealing with pointed objects in her mouth. Her thumb and forefinger traced his other nipple, pressing, teasing, tugging at the taut flesh. Hayden groaned, threading his fingers in her hair. He held her close, gently kneading her scalp. Her lips abandoned his nipple. She moved down, her kisses slipping lower. His hard shaft slid against the slick valley between her breasts. She licked a searing line down his abdominal wall, feeling his muscles tense underneath her tongue. Sliding her hands down his lean hips, she skimmed her lips against the blond curls of his sex. Her mouth found the crease of his left thigh, where his femoral pulse beat steady and strong. The potent surge, so close to the surface, wrenched at her guts. 33

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So close to a vital artery. She couldn’t believe Hayden didn’t push her away. His cock oozed a clear bead of precum. She cupped her hand around him, anointing her palm with his fluid. The points of her fangs grazed the sweet throbbing at his thigh oh-so gently, not breaking skin, as her wet hand pumped up and down his shaft. “Odin,” Hayden groaned, his hips jerking forward. She withdrew her fangs in the nick of time. His uninhibited reaction was an unbelievable turn-on. “Sit,” she whispered, pulling him down to the bed. “I promise, no teeth.” “Ry—” “Shhh…” She knelt between his spread thighs, exhaling a soft breath over his nest of blond curls. Her hands wrapped around the base of his glistening shaft. Giving a blow job with a fanged mouth was tricky, but not impossible. She rubbed her lips against Hayden’s hefty balls, wallowing in his virile aroma, loving the soft feel of his skin. He smelled of sweat, precum and of her. Closing her eyes, she licked his shaft from base to tip, slowly savoring the incredible texture of veined satin. She could taste her own juices on his cock. His fingers tightened in her hair as her tongue swiped around his cock head. She scooped another pearly bead of fluid. He tasted tangy-sweet, and she couldn’t get enough. She pressed her lips against his tip, then took his cock into her mouth, sliding her lips down to engulf him. Hayden let out a guttural groan. Her hands were pumping his shaft in sinuous up-and-downs, wrapping his erection in a skintight sheath, as her tongue swirled around his cock head. Above her, Hayden was rocking his hips to her rhythm, stroking her hair, mumbling words in a language she only knew bits of.

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She dived down his shaft, carefully deep-throating him ‘til her mouth was full of his cock, then pulled up again to suck on his cock head. He was damn close—she could tell by his tensing abdominal muscles, by the slight quiver of his thighs, by how his balls felt in her hand. His hoarse “By Odin, I’m close!” was a good hint, too. She withdrew her mouth from his cock—there was only so much she could control without giving the man a nasty bite. Her right hand kept gliding up and down his shaft as her left clamped down carefully on his balls. Hayden inhaled sharply. “Reul,” he breathed. His hips bucked violently. He leaned back against the mattress, his semen arching into the air in milky bursts. “Yes,” she whispered, cradling his cock, smoothing her hand up his damp abdomen, up his powerful chest. “Yes.”

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Chapter Four “I look ridiculous.” “Nah, more like a fanged version of Lara Croft.” Ryal frowned, her gaze skidding from her naked breasts to the curls topping her sex. She stood in her stilettos, naked except for the makeshift rig that Hayden had fitted on her body. He was fiddling with the leather straps he’d just passed between her breasts, readjusting them against the belt hugging her hips. Gods, he had great hands. She loved the feel of his fingers deftly touching her skin… He glanced up at her face, looking amused. “Why don’t you tell me a bit more about the ruby,” he suggested. “It will help get your mind off sex.” “I wasn’t thinking about sex,” Ryal snapped defensively. “Of course not.” His fingers brushed the underside of her right breast as he tugged at a strap. Ryal stifled a moan. Bastard! “Okey-dokey,” she mumbled. “The ruby. It’s pretty ancient. Nobody knows where it really came from. Some think—as the name implies— that Eris, the Goddess of Discord, conjured it herself from Ichor.” “Ichor.” Hayden shot her a doubtful look. “If I know my mythology, that’s the blood of the immortals, right?” He stood up, towering above her again. “Turn around. I need to see your backside.” “I bet you do,” Ryal murmured as she made a slow, showy spin. “Hmm.” Hayden slid her mass of black hair over her right shoulder. His warm breath stroked over her exposed nape. A pleasant tremor shot down her spine as his fingers skimmed against her bare back.

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“Ichor is the mineral found in the blood of the Gods of the Olympus,” she managed. “It’s also in their food—nectar and ambrosia. It what makes the Gods immortal, and it’s poisonous to mortals. As it happens, it’s also poisonous to the undead.” “So,” he murmured, tugging and snapping at things at her back, “this ruby—the Apple of Eris—is a vampire’s Kryptonite.” “I’ve never thought of it that way—I’m not much of a Superman buff—but I guess so. Um…what are you doing back there?” “It’s a surprise.” He took hold of her arms, gently rotating her to face him. “Where in the cemetery did you say the ruby was hidden?” She gave him a slow smile. “Actually, I didn’t say.” “Right.” He slid his large hands up her arms, cupping her shoulders. “I’m sorry.” She held his gaze. “I need to make sure that you take me along for the ride.” “I know,” Hayden said softly, his hand gently smoothing over her collarbone. The glacier-blue of his eyes had warmed to the hot blue of a summer sky. She hadn’t seen a bright blue sky in so very, very long. Ryal swayed in Hayden’s hold. “You haven’t told me a thing about yourself,” she whispered. “There isn’t much to tell.” “But there must be.” She raised her hand, touching his jaw. “Where you were born. Why you became a slayer. What brought you to America. How you’re so good at fixing a fanged girl a drink—” “Hey, hey…slow down.” He placed his fingers over her mouth. “Norway. To hurt the vampires who converted my kid sister. I was sent here by Slayers.org, after I acted against the Organization’s orders and butchered the vamps who hurt my sister. I know how to fix you a drink because I’ve been doing it for my sister for a long time.” He paused. “That’s four answers to your four questions. Let’s leave it at that.”

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“Oh.” Ryal finally remembered to close her mouth. “Thanks.” “Sure.” He let go of her, glancing around the room. “You can put your coat on after I fix you up with ammo—those are some heavy-duty toys you’re packing. Normally a woman couldn’t carry such weight.” “But I’m no ordinary woman,” she replied softly. “And I have more than ordinary strength, Hayden. At least, that’s exactly what Ailig used to say to me.” Hayden crouched beside a heavy steel strongbox and manipulated its delicate locking mechanism. The top swished open, revealing a neatly arranged series of hardwood stakes and what looked like different-sized vials of holy water. “Ry…” He cautiously avoided her gaze, surveying the box’s content as he drew on his black leather gloves. “You have to get this through your skull. I’m not your dead lover reincarnated.”

***** “But you said my name. You called me Reul—” “I was having a fucking orgasm.” “Shit, Hayden!” Ryal stormed through the old cemetery. “Your body trusts my touch, when your mind won’t. I mean, you let a vampire give you a blow job, for fuck’s sake!” “You were pretty damn good,” he said, catching up with her easily. “My fanged mouth was on your cock, Hayden!” Ryal threw up her hands in exasperation. “I bet they never gave that class at Slayer School! Your…your soul remembers what your mind shuts out. What other goddamn proof do you need?” “Shhh.” Hayden seized her arm, hauling her to a stop beneath the shadow of a mourning stone angel. “Don’t shut me up, Hayden,” Ryal gritted out, twisting beneath her load of wooden stakes and shovel. “Take my word for it—corpses don’t eavesdrop.”

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He put his finger to his lips in the universal shut-the-hell-up signal. His nightenhanced eyes scanned the rows of broken-down crosses and overgrown gravestones. “What?” Ryal glanced around. “I heard nothing, and my hearing beats yours.” “Yeah, but you weren’t listening.” He sighed. “Forget it—probably a false alarm. Are we getting any nearer to where you buried it?” “Not sure—I think I just lost count,” she tossed acerbically, plowing ahead again amid the dormant graves. “Let’s see. Row thirteen, grave number…number…” “I should have staked you when I had the chance,” Hayden muttered, following her toward a dark copse of trees. Ryal snorted. “Here.” She dropped the shovel beside a small Celtic cross, slanted and sunken in the wild grass. She knelt beside it and ran her hand tenderly over the ancient stone, wiping crusted mud off its engraved letters. “The grave used to be at Old St. Mary’s,” she said softly. “In 1899, the property was sold, and I had it transferred here. The name doesn’t appear in any cemetery, burial or funeral records. It’s practically impossible to track down.” So she’d been here in friggin’ 1899. A good, solid reminder that he was dealing with a vampire. A vampire who’d given him a damn good blow job. Hayden crouched beside Ryal. “Alexander Starr,” he read softly. Smoothing his fingers over the stone, he strained to decipher the fine print. “Per mare et per terras,” he cited. A chill unfurled in the pit of his stomach, as if he was seeing his own grave, or experiencing an odd kind of déjà vu. Ryal slanted him an enigmatic look. “Like my design?” His lips twitched. “What am I supposed find?” he whispered. “A bunch of heads and hearts?” “Oh, hardly.” She was watching his face closely. “Just…an Apple.”

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Hayden hauled one of the shovels closer, planting it firmly in her hand. He snatched the other from the grass as he climbed back to his feet. “It takes about five hours to dig a grave, and the soil might be frozen,” he said. “We’ve only got four hours and twenty-four minutes to sunrise.” “Well, when you put it that way.” She stood up, wiping dirt off her bare knees. “Just to ease your mind—when I buried the thing, I didn’t go down the full six feet.”

Three hours and a hell of a lot of dirt later, Hayden was standing up to his chest in a hole too deep for his tastes. He straightened, running his muddied forearm against his sweaty brow. “Look at the bright side,” Ryal muttered. “At least it’s not raining.” She launched another dirt pile over her shoulder. He half-turned to shoot her a dirty look. Lifting his shovel again, he drove it hard into the dirt. Metal thudded against decayed wood. “Bingo.” Hayden brought up the shovel for another strike. “You’re right—it’s not six feet.” “Hey, easy—” Ryal dropped her tool and grabbed his arm. Hayden’s shovel smashed through splinters of rotted wood. “Odin, the smell!” He coughed, methodically working his way through the coffin’s lid. “Are you sure you got the right grave?” “Pretty.” She frowned, handing him the flashlight he’d slung on her belt earlier. Hayden rammed his boot through the lid one more time. “Okay, I think that’s enough,” he muttered. Crouching, he shone his flashlight through the dust cloud wafting up from the ruined coffin. He reached inside the black cavity and brought out a rusted iron chest. He fingered the lock.

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“Houdini couldn’t pick this mess,” he remarked dryly. Ryal huddled above the chest, facing him. “Sorry. They weren’t making stainless steel back in the nineteenth century.” He’d already stood up, lifting the shovel again. “Hayden! What’s in there is priceless—” The rusty lock gave easily beneath Hayden’s well-aimed blow. “Zeus.” Ryal blew out a relieved sigh, wrestling the iron lid open. She gasped aloud, shading her eyes as a ruddy glow burst out of its centuries-old confinement. “Goddamn,” Hayden muttered. The small, egg-shaped ruby wrapped in shreds of decayed leather looked alive. He could feel its deep throb beating in harmony with its steady, pulsating radiance. Beside it lay the remains of what once had been a pair of black lambskin gloves. Ryal dropped the lid closed over the stone, cutting its glow. “Dammit, the gloves are ruined. And they told me the leather would last a lifetime! Obviously, they didn’t mean a vampire’s. You can’t hold the stone in your bare hands, see?” She raised her face to Hayden. “But…isn’t she a beauty?” she whispered. Hayden gazed down at the night-dark eyes shining out of her muddied, heartshaped face. “Yes, she is,” he replied softly and drew her into his arms. His mouth crushed her lips. She moaned into his breath, surprised, struggling against him, as if she was trying to wrap herself in his body. He pulled back slightly, his breath caressing her lips. Ryal’s mud-caked fingers stroked over his cheeks. Her eyes clung to his, holding a raw need. “Do you remember…?” “No, elskling,” he whispered, caressing a clump of matted hair away from her forehead. “But what matters is here…now.” A lazy clap of hands thundered through the cemetery.

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“Beautiful,” a cold voice announced from above. “Really, an Oscar-winning performance. Too bad we can’t afford a happy ending, eh?”

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Chapter Five Ryal froze in Hayden’s embrace. Hayden’s eyes shot up to the dark-robed figure poised atop the grave’s edge. Pushing Ryal behind him, he reached beneath his coat. “Uh-uh, not so fast. Place your hands on your head.” The man raised a Glock 35, aiming it at his chest. A silver ring glistened on his finger. “Creatures of the Night have evolved since fangs, spit and medieval swords, you know.” Hayden studied him, slowly raising his hands. “I wouldn’t know,” he said. “All I see in an ugly bloodsucker in a bad suit.” “Now, I don’t think that was laughing with me.” The man cocked a brow. “It will be a pleasure to kill you…again.” Ice uncoiled in the pit of Hayden’s stomach, as if he’d seen this man before…a very long time ago. His peripheral vision caught dark shadows shifting around the grave’s mouth—Santa’s fanged little helpers. Ryal was suddenly before him. “Leave him the fuck out of this, Rubeus. This is strictly between you and me.” “Ah, Helene.” Rubeus smiled down at her. “Of course, one of my men—who survived your boyfriend’s carnage—followed you both after you left that fine establishment, Booze. Then we simply waited with bated breath for you to make your move. By the way, I’ve made plans for you for later—something nasty involving bondage and holy water.” His smile faded, leaving his face blank of expression. “Okay, no more Mister Nice Vampire. Hand me that box with the Apple of Eris, now.” Her fists clenched. “If I give you the fucking ruby, will you let him go?”

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“If you don’t, I’ll shoot your mortal right where he stands, and fetch the bloody stone myself. Don’t make me come down to you, Helene.” Rubeus extended his empty hand, palm up. “The Apple, please?” “Okay, just let me—” “You little Goth whore,” Hayden murmured behind her. “I knew I should have staked you right from the start.” Ryal’s head snapped his way, her back going rigid. “Hayden—?” “As if it’s a surprise,” he snapped, his gaze intent on her face. She caught on— something akin to realization briefly flashed in her eyes. She turned to face him fully. “It is a surprise,” she said slowly. “A surprise that I waited five hundred years for that miserable fuck.” “Um…kids?” Rubeus hissed from above. “I’m holding a highly lethal weapon here, could I please have your attention?” “Just for the record, Ry,” Hayden bit out, “you give a lousy blow job.” She raised her hand and slapped his face, hard. “Ouch.” Rubeus grinned. “Zeus, man, you let a vampire suck your dick?” Hayden didn’t budge, flexing his jaw. “Hey, why not hand Dracula over there the Twin Stone while you’re at it,” he countered, his tone acerbic. “The Twin Stone?” Rubeus interjected from above. “The ruby’s twin,” Ryal ground out. “The one that neutralizes its effect. You stupid, brainless eye candy, Hayden. What else are you going to give him—your credit card number and pin code?” “Okay, I’ll bite.” Rubeus rolled his eyes. “Where is the Twin Stone?” Ryal stared at Hayden. “What’s the matter, honey?” Hayden surveyed her haggard face. “Do you need a friggin’ compass to find it?” She held his gaze. “He has the Twin Stone concealed, Rubeus,” she called out. 44

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“Fine. Get it and clear my line of fire. And you, Slayer—keep your hands right where they are.” Hayden’s gaze fell to Ryal’s face as she stepped closer, closing the small gap between their bodies. She placed a trembling hand on his chest. Their eyes met and held. Her hand went slowly up his left pectoral muscle, lingering over his left shoulder. It slipped deeper, underneath his coat sleeve. Her fingers paused over the remote control strapped against the Vegvisir—the Viking Compass tattoo on his left arm. He hadn’t told her he’d put on the device, nor what it had been designed to do. Her expression gave no sign that she had found it, aside from the slightest quiver of her bottom lip. The entire universe narrowed to the darkness in her eyes as time flowed to a standstill. With the slightest flick of her finger, she activated the mechanism. A lethal barrage of slim hardwood shafts tore through the backs of their coats, launching from the complex rigs fitted about their torsos. Around them vampires shrieked and faded to nothingness as the soaring stakes hit home. “Down, down!” Hayden shoved Ryal hard against the coffin. He couldn’t see Rubeus. He withdrew his pistol-crossbow, popping one vamp with an easy shot. He leaped up the grave’s edge to ground level, and planted a stake in the heart of another vampire as it charged him. He ducked to reload his bow. Where was Rubeus? Hayden heard Ryal scream and managed to catch a glimpse of her, writhing beneath Rubeus within the open grave—just as a double-barreled shotgun swung toward him. Odin! He had no time for this!

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Hayden rolled just as both mouths spat fire. Aiming his crossbow from a lousy position, he squeezed the trigger. The female shooter exploded, the moonlight briefly playing over the fall of ash. Then there was nothing. He got them all. All, except— His ears still ringing, Hayden crawled to the grave’s mouth and hurled himself inside. He hit the bottom hard, in a cloud of dirt and splinters. Leaping to his feet, his bow in one hand and the last of his stakes in another, he froze. Fuck. Rubeus had Ryal pressed against the grave’s narrow wall, forcing the barrel of his Glock into her mouth. “This is the modern way to kill a vampire,” he growled. Hayden stood very, very still. “You pull that trigger, and I’ll show you another sure way,” he said softly. “A generous offer, but I must decline,” Rubeus hissed. Ryal let out a choking sound as he shoved the barrel deeper down her throat. “Toss your ridiculous toys outside the grave, Slayer.” Hayden forced out a slow breath. “That would be a really stupid thing for me to do.” “And your point is?” Rubeus asked pleasantly. “Do it, or I blow her brains out.” “Fine.” Hayden withdrew his weapons. “You win.” He hurled the bow and the stake over the grave’s edge. His eyes narrowed on Rubeus, his muscles tensing. What he’d done was more than stupid, it was plain suicide. Suddenly, Rubeus shrieked. Something was glowing blood-red in Ryal’s naked fist. Her hand strained up Rubeus’ torn shirt. She pressed the pulsating object hard against his chest, and he let out another hoarse cry of pain and rage.

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“Ry!” Hayden dragged Rubeus off her just as the Glock fired, the bullet missing her head to rip through the dirt. Both slayer and vampire slammed hard into the pit’s opposite wall. The Glock fell from Rubeus’ hand as the remains of the coffin’s lid caved in. Rubeus grabbed Hayden by the lapels of his shredded coat. He drove his foot into Hayden’s chest with superhuman force, launching him onto Ryal. She cried out in pain. “Sorry, elskling—” “Hayden.” Ryal twisted against him, tucking the ruby into his gloved left hand. He caught a glimpse of her burned palm. “Great Odin…” “I’m fine.” She managed to smile. “But he’s…he’s getting away. Don’t let him…” Clutching the oval burn at his chest, Rubeus was indeed starting to fade. “Not so fast.” Letting go of Ryal, Hayden threw himself at the injured master vampire. “Here’s your Apple—choke on it,” he gasped, shoving the stone into Rubeus’ mouth. Rubeus’ eyes bulged out of their sockets as his face pulsed and radiated with a blood-red glow. His wild writhing threw Hayden off his body. Rubeus bucked as a fine pattern of crimson veins swept over his skin, covering him like a rare lace. A flash of scarlet light engulfed him, and then he was gone.

Hayden pulled Ryal into his embrace. “Ry, are you okay?” “Yeah…” she mumbled. “Um…no.” She looked like shit. “You killed Rubeus.” She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Yes.” He cradled her burned hand in his, carefully examining her palm. It looked bad—far worse than the holy water burns he’d witnessed. “Hurts?” he queried softly, then cursed himself for asking. Dumb question.

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“Not that much,” she whispered with a small smile. “Too bad there really isn’t a neutralizing Twin Stone to the ruby, huh? That was a good one, Hayden… Rubeus totally bought it.” She was dying. “Sunrise is in less than an hour,” he said. “I should get us home.” She shook her head. “Hayden, let’s just…stay here.” “Sure.” He relaxed against the grave’s dirt wall and slipped off his gloves, holding Ryal tight. His own blood was thundering in his ears. “I haven’t seen the sunrise in like…three thousand years,” she mumbled. “Long time.” He touched his knuckles to her cheek. “Seen plenty in my line of work.” “I bet.” She paused. “Hayden, what’s…elskling mean?” His lips curled. “It’s Norwegian for sweetheart.” She grinned suddenly, her dark eyes cracking open. “Shitty word,” she mumbled and shut her eyes, slipping away from him again. “I agree—it’s shitty,” murmured a contralto feminine voice. “Greek is so much more…cultivated.” Hayden’s gaze whipped up to the woman sitting atop the grave’s edge. She studied him with almond eyes, her midnight hair washing down her shoulders in loose curls. Slowly, she stretched to her feet, yawning, looking divine in nothing but a gold ropedress that showed more skin than rope. Her bare breasts strained against the glowing threads, adorned with a matching pair of gold nipple clamps. “I’m Eris.” She rubbed her bare foot against her shin, looking very much like a spoiled cat. “Some call me the Goddess of Discord.” Hayden stared. “And I’m…charmed.” Eris grinned. “So…” She tilted her head, slanting him a curious look. “Are you just going to let her die? I feel terribly guilty, since it’s my stone that poisoned her.” Her 48

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hands cupped over her heart and withdrew, revealing an egg-shaped ruby swinging from her neck on a gold chain. She leaped into the grave and knelt beside Hayden, her red lips brushing his ear. “I owe you one for returning my property and killing its thief,” she murmured. “So I’ll give you a hint—I’m sure that your Odin wouldn’t mind. There’s a way to reverse the Ichor’s effects. Let the vampire drink from you.” Hayden’s gaze dropped to Ryal’s face. “I’ll do it,” he whispered. He hoped that the Erilar—the Runemaster who’d tattooed his body with protective Runes—had done a good job. “Of course, there’s a catch,” Eris said. “There’s always a catch.” Hayden steadied Ryal’s listless body against his chest. “Your Runic tattoos are a powerful protection,” Eris murmured. “Powerful enough to resist vampiric tainting, but not enough to nullify the Ichor’s effects. When the vampire drinks from you, she will trigger an interaction between the two Elements of Power—Odin’s, and the Olympic Gods’.” “Sounds like it’s going to hurt.” “Immensely.” Eris smiled. “However, if you live through it, than you shall both live forever…immortal, as the gods themselves.” “I’ve never counted on forever,” Hayden said softly. “You might not need to—the clash between the Elements will likely kill you both.” Eris’ lips brushed his ear. “Whatever you decide, Slayer, do it fast—the sun will rise soon. If the vampire fries, then that’s kind of missing the point, isn’t it?” A sudden breeze touched the side of Hayden’s face. A soft chuckle stroked the edge of his hearing. Eris was gone.

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Chapter Six “Ry,” Hayden murmured. “Got something for you.” She mumbled something incoherent and tried to curl deeper into his chest. He pressed the pad of his thumb against the black spike of his barbell piercing, drawing out a red bead of blood. Ryal’s eyes popped open in the darkness. “Your shirt is off,” she whispered. “Yeah. So is yours.” He smiled as he touched his bloody thumb to her mouth. Rubbing slow circles into the supple flesh, he painted her lips ruby-red. “Mmmm…sweet,” she moaned, her tongue darting out to gather his taste. Her head strained up from his supporting arm as she sucked his thumb into her mouth. “Cute.” His cock stirred as he stared at her mouth. Just a pretty girl sucking on a thumb. Right. “How about giving me a little taste?” he offered, carefully lifting her against his torso. The pressure in his crotch had surged to an uncomfortable level. Her hands slipped against his chest for support. He noticed that the burn looked better. With one arm propping her rib cage, he cradled her nape and kissed her. “Mmm…” She opened her mouth to his gentle exploration, and again he was surprised at how sweet she tasted, and at how familiar her mouth felt. The hard points of her nipples rubbed against his muscles, her smooth stomach sliding against his abdominal wall. His rock-hard cock strained against the leather of his

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pants. He guided her thighs to straddle his lap as his tongue plunged deeper into her mouth. “Mmm…wait.” She leaned her forehead against his, breathing hard. Hayden smiled in the darkness, again finding it endearing that she panted when she didn’t really need to breathe. He’d first noticed it when he’d kissed her outside Booze. “What, Ry?” He ran his hands up and down the curve of her spine. “Drink too strong for you?” “H-Hayden. Are you sure about this?” Her arms rose to lock around his neck. “If I drink from you, if I really bite into your neck, then you…well…either I might kill you, or you could become…tainted. It’d be a s-serious conflict of interests if you grew fangs and started sleeping in a coffin—” “You won’t taint me, Ry—you can take my word for it.” Hayden decided to keep the probable death part to himself. His hands slowly toured up and down every inch of naked skin that they could reach. His hands found her breasts and stayed there, kneading the lush swells, teasing lazy circles around her puckering areolas. Odin, he was hard. “Okay,” Ryal whispered, and her lips melded with his. This time he let her kiss him—let her take the lead. This was going to be her show. Her initial kiss was almost chaste, giving him just a hint of tongue. It left him aching for more. Her lips left his mouth and brushed over his skin like cool satin, touching his forehead, his eyebrows, his cheeks. Her fingertips skimmed over his nape as she started to sway above him, rubbing her wet cunt up and down his cock. “Mmm…you’re still wearing your leather,” she mumbled into his mouth. “We can fix that.” He smiled, slowly tugging his zipper down over his aching erection. His cock sprang free, arching up against Ryal’s stomach.

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“Oh Zeus, I want this inside me.” “It’s all yours.” Hayden groaned as her stomach slid against the length of his cock. Her curls teased his aching balls, stroking the broad base of his shaft. The sensation changed as her pussy lips kissed his shaft, rubbing up his length in a wet, hot caress. Hayden sucked in his breath. Ryal rose above him, her hands cradling his neck, her tongue deep in his mouth. He tilted his head up to match her movements, addicted to her taste, ravenous for her kiss. His hands slipped down to her waist. He felt her cunt engulfing his cock head, slowly taking him in. He grunted around her tongue, his hips jerking up beneath her in helpless response. She lowered herself above him, inch by slow inch, until she swallowed the entire length of his cock. Hayden groaned deep in his throat, his hands convulsing on her hips. Great Odin… All rational thought escaped Hayden’s mind as Ryal started to ride him, rising and falling on his cock in smooth, sensual undulations. His hips answered in matching thrusts, submitting to her rhythm. Desire burned inside him, an aching need to push her onto her back and pound hard and fast between her thighs, to fuck her to hell and back like a rutting beast. He expelled a hissing breath, forcing his hands to relax. “I love you, Hayden.” Her lips slipped down his neck as she mumbled his name. He felt her kissing his neck…sucking his flesh into her mouth… Hayden shuddered and groaned. His body gave a small, involuntary jerk as Ryal’s fangs pierced his throat. A brief, sharp pain. A rush of brutal pleasure.

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Her arms immediately wrapped around his neck and shoulders in a steely embrace, bracing his head, as she started to move faster, harder on his cock. Somewhere in the back of his mind Hayden knew that Ryal was drinking from him. That his blood was gushing freely into her mouth, its flow increasing with each strong beat of his heart. But he was wrapped in heat and wetness and movement, and he didn’t—couldn’t—care. His arms wrapped tightly around Ryal’s animated body as his hips obeyed her rhythm. Her name slipped from his mouth, over and over again. He could say nothing but her name, because the outside world had ceased to exist the moment she’d mounted his cock. Ryal abruptly tore her mouth away from his throat. Hayden drew in a shuddering breath. Reality sharpened around him, as if someone had just readjusted a camera’s off-focus lens. He felt a warm wetness oozing down the side of his neck. Instinctively, his hands shot up to cradle Ryal’s face. He tilted her head back slightly. She didn’t resist him. Her eyes were closed, her lips red with his blood. “I should stop…stop drinking,” she mumbled. She dug her fingernails into his shoulders as she rammed her pussy down on his cock, over and over, as if this was the last time she would ever fuck him. Hayden threaded his fingers in her hair and pulled her head down to his, crushing her lips in a hard kiss. Ryal’s hand wrapped around the root of his thick braid, returning his kiss just as savagely. His tongue ravaged her mouth, playing around her fully descended fangs, unafraid of what she was. His hands dropped to her hips again and he dragged her down on his cock, thrusting up hard. Ryal screamed into his mouth. She bucked hard against him, breaking their kiss. Her body arched in his embrace from neck to tailbone, her hard nipples stabbing into the air. She screamed again, the sound ringing clear in the frosty night, bouncing back at them from the surrounding headstones. Hayden cried out hoarsely as her cunt tightened and rippled around his shaft, milking him from hilt to tip. White-hot fire raced up his cock. He buried his face in 53

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Ryal’s hair and crushed her body against his as burst after burst of hot semen exploded from his cock deep inside her. With shocking abruptness, the orgasmic pleasure transformed into excruciating pain. Hayden groaned as rival Powers battled over his body, threatening to tear him apart. Agony rushed from Ryal’s bite, threading its way through his mesh of arteries and veins, rushing through his blood like fire. He held Ryal tightly to his chest. She was writhing painfully in his embrace, crying out his name, screaming—

Hayden’s eyes cracked open. Ryal was curled against his chest, still trembling, but very much alive. “Oh…oh, Hayden,” she mumbled. “Zeus, Zeus… What just happened?” “Some kind of clash between two Elements of Power—the Ichor and the Runes,” Hayden said softly, trailing his fingers down her back. “You’re no longer a vampire, as charming as it was. And since we’re now both immortal, you’ll have to put up with me for a long time.” Ryal stared at him openmouthed. “You should thank your Goddess,” Hayden went on. “It was all her idea.” He absently touched his neck where Ryal’s fangs had broken the skin. He was whole again beneath the leftover blood. Ryal was staring strangely at his bloody neck. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Nothing,” she whispered. “I’m just…I’m not thirsty anymore.” He nodded. “How about the fangs?” “Um…” Her tongue was testing her mouth. “Nope. No fangs.” “Good. I can hardly wait for your next blow job.” Her dark eyes ignited with mirth. “Can I try now?” she asked hopefully. 54

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Hayden’s lips curved. “We should really take this elsewhere.” “Why?” she protested. “It’s really very romantic here.” Hayden grabbed Ryal’s hips and lifted her from his lap. She moaned in protest. Pushing to his feet, he held out his hand to her. “Time to get out of here, Ry.” She let him pull her up. “Yeah,” she murmured, resigned. “Time to make some new memories.” A huge grin split Hayden’s face. “Let’s start by getting out of this grave.”

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Epilogue Gentle rain dusted the dark trees and silent headstones as the two figures in shredded leather coats weaved their way through the graves. “So…what name did I call you this time?” Hayden asked. “How would I know?” Ryal teased. “I was having a fucking orgasm.” But she was smiling a small, secretive smile. “Hey, it’s a good thing you brought the car,” she said. “Let’s fuck in the car—I want you to fuck me forever, Hayden!” “That’s what you’re saying now, elskling, but wait ‘til you see my kitchen.” “Who cares about your kitchen?” She giggled. “Hey, you think we can have kids?” “No.” “How about a dog?” “Ry, wait—there’s something I want you to see.” Hayden grabbed Ryal’s wrist and hauled her to a stop. He pointed to the pink glow smeared low across the eastern horizon. “Sweetheart, look… Sunrise.”

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About the Author Dawn is a hopeless romantic and a Gemini, a tricky combination to handle. During daytime she’s moonlighting as a medical doctor, but at nights...oh, at nights...at nights she’s fervently hammering steamy scenes on her moaning keyboard. A secret identity…sort of like Catwoman, right? Simply put, Dawn finds penning Erotica/Romance for EC so much more stimulating than writing boring medical articles! After all, daydreaming of alpha werewolves, sexy, dark vampires and muscle-bound futuristic warriors is by far a more invigorating pastime than listening to your patients complaining!

Dawn welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

Also by Dawn Madigan Celtic Charms: Destined Pleasure Raiders anthology

Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.

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