

Desires Unleashed

Knights of the Darkness Chronicles

Book One

D.N. Simmons

Rushmore Publishing

Smashwords Edition

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidences either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Revised Edition Edited by H.I. Gantt

Copyright © 2015 by D.N. Simmons

Rushmore Publishing - Chicago, IL

ISBN-13: 978-0615678641  
ISBN-10: 0615678645

All Right Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the expressed written permission of the author. Exceptions are in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Knights of the Darkness Chronicles

Desires Unleashed

The Guilty Innocent

The Royal Flush

Hostile Territory

The Lion's Den

Unholy Alliance

Other Books By D.N. Simmons

The Dead War Series

Good Intentions

Desperate Times (Coming Soon)

The Pleasure Series

The Pleasure Room

The Pleasure Principal (Coming Soon)
Dedication and Acknowledgments

I would like to dedicate this novel to my absolutely wonderful, loyal, understanding and truly patient readership. Your unwavering support has meant the world to me. Writing these books for you has been one of my greatest pleasures and I am thrilled to have you all as readers.

As always, I would also like to thank my editors: Vicky Hughes and H.I. Gantt, for helping me keep my sanity while editing this novel. I'd like to thank my mother for being the wonderful, supportive and loving person you are, honestly, I wouldn't be here without you. I'd like to thank my father for his encouragement, sense of humor and advice given, that has guided me on my life's journey. Last, but not least, I'd like to send a special "thank you" to all of you who have supported me in life and in my career.

Love Always

D.N.

Author's Note

I wanted to re-edit all of my original books because I wanted all of my readers to be able to enjoy my novels without having to worry about grammatical errors. When I first wrote the Knights of the Darkness Chronicles, I knew I had a story I wanted to tell. A story that was unique and thrilling, and I wanted to share it with the world. In my excitement to share my story, I made mistakes along the way and had to learn some very hard lessons. I am grateful for all of my readers who purchased my novels and gave me honest reviews, both positive and negative. It is with the wonderful insight that you've all given me that I respectfully offer you these republished novels. I've worked very hard to make sure that I'm giving all of my readers the very best that I can give you.

I thank you all for the opportunity you've given me to entertain you. I hope you enjoy reading this novel as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Chapter One

Detective Warren Davis shuffled through the messy stack of files on his desk. He was searching desperately for his drawer key. He had hidden a box of Crunchy Crème glazed donuts inside and wanted to indulge selfishly in the delicious sugary taste of, in his opinion, "the best damn donuts to hit the 21st century." Finally after turning his desk into a disaster area, which didn't take much, he located the key to his treasure. He glanced inconspicuously over one shoulder then the other to make sure no one was watching. He knew how irresistible Crunchy Crème could be and he didn't want to share one morsel. He slowly turned the key and unlocked the drawer.

There they lay, the sweets of gods. Warren didn't know of a soul alive who could turn down a Crunchy Crème donut. Slowly, he opened the box, pulling one glazed donut from the container. He stuffed the sugary treat, in its entirety, into his mouth, taking pleasure in the gigantic burst of sweetness that followed.

"Mmm, delicious ... There's got to be some smack in these donuts to have me so addicted," he thought to himself as he closed the drawer and settled back in his cushioned leather chair. He stretched his long legs out in front of him as he chewed the donut slowly, savoring every bite.

"What are you eating?" his partner, Detective Matthew Eric, asked as he approached him.

He stood beside Warren's relaxing figure, noting the huge bulges in the insides of his partner's cheeks. Matthew Eric stood six-feet-three, very muscular and extremely handsome. His physique reminded Warren of a light-weight wrestler. Matthew's skin was a perfect soft-golden shade which complemented his light-brown eyes hidden behind the mop of dark brown curls. His hand came up brushing the curls from his eyes as he studied Warren.

Warren remained silent as he swallowed, forcing one huge piece of donut down his throat then another. He was thankful for the time it gave him to think of a believable lie.

Matthew looked down at his partner, a smile spreading across his face as he watched Warren nearly choking to rid himself of the evidence. He waited patiently for the lie that would sure enough come spilling from those glaze covered lips. He thought Warren should know better than to open a box of Crunchy Crèmes, and think he wouldn't have to share.

"Oh," Warren managed to say, swallowing the last of his donut. "This? It's nothing." He followed up with a huge gulp of his decaffeinated coffee before smiling innocently up at his partner.

Matthew took one look at his partner's full-of-crap expression and gave him one of his own. One that said he'd better share the goods, or else.

"What?" Warren asked, shrugging his shoulders.

"If you don't cough it up, there's going to be repercussions," Matthew threatened playfully.

"Are you sure?" Warren asked, smiling slyly.

"Un-hmm," Matthew nodded.

"Okay." Warren began coughing and gagging playfully, attempting to bring up what he had swallowed.

Matthew grimaced. "Oh God, man stop it. You're fucking disgusting. Now, where's the damn box?"

Warren laughed as he reached into his drawer pulling out his secret stash.

"I was going to give you some anyway," he stated.

"Yeah, sure you were, ya bastard," Matthew said, unconvinced.

He all but snatched a donut from the box then sat back in his chair devouring his treat. After a few minutes, he looked at Warren.

"Remember when we first shared a box of these donuts?"

"Yeah," Warren responded, remembering how Matthew had discovered his secret. "What made you think of that?"

"Don't know, just nostalgia, I suppose," Matthew replied.

"I remember how freaked you were that day," Warren said.

"Who could blame me? I think I got over it well enough."

"Yeah, you did."

As Matthew took another bite of his donut, he remembered their captain wanted to see the two of them in her office. Pronto. After he swallowed, he decided to inform his partner.

"Hey I forgot, the Captain wanted us in her office ASAP," Matthew said calmly, as he munched on more of the donut.

"Oh really? Nothing good can come from that," Warren said as he reached in his drawer for a third donut.

Officer Brown walked over—a tall, good looking black man, he was clean shaven, well built and the health conscious/athletic type. He wasn't the kind of person to be caught dead stuffing his mouth with calorie-laden foods. He looked down at the two detectives and shook his head in dismay.

"Hey, the Captain is looking for you two. If I was you, I'd hustle in there, on the double," he said, grimacing in disgust at the two men fattening themselves on the two-hundred-calories-per-serving donuts.

"Yeah, we know, we're going now," Matthew said, rising from his chair.

"Damn shame," Officer Brown muttered as he walked away, leaving the two detectives to smile at each other.

They made their way to their captain's office passing a few officers who were teasing them by making throat slitting motions. Everyone suspected the captain was going to have another difficult case for the two detectives to work on. They were right.

"What took you two so long to get in here?"

Captain Michelle Lawrence asked as she sat at her desk. The two detectives noticed that they didn't get a glimpse of her long shapely legs which were hidden behind the desk. Warren suspected that she had been gawked at by one too many officers and managed to hide her assets. Her long blonde hair fell in waves past her shoulders onto her shirt front, denying them and all others a peek of her 'famous cleavage' that the majority of the male−and some female cops –admired.

"Well, you know, Detective Eric, I didn't expect to be waiting this long when I called both of you in here about five minutes ago," she said, both eyebrows raised, a finger lightly tapping the desk.

"Sorry, Captain, but Warren here, he was in the 'little boy's' room," Detective Eric fibbed quickly, not wanting to admit the real reason he postponed getting to her office, which was, he forgot.

"There's nothing 'little' about my 'boy'," Warren retorted as he tried hard to force back the chuckles threatening to erupt at any second.

Captain Lawrence looked at the two men and shook her head.

"These two ..." she thought to herself. Sometimes they worked her last good nerve, but she wouldn't deny that they were her two best detectives.

"Look gentlemen, it's time to get right down to business. We have a report of a body found in the alley off 79th and Cottage Grove Avenue. The preliminary report stated the body appeared to be drained of blood and the head was ... well ... missing. Furthermore, there are no witnesses. I'm assigning this case to you. It's right up your alley. Galen's on the scene already, waiting on you. Detectives Weinstein and Johnson are there right now, questioning the employee of a bakery store who discovered the body."

"Now get the hell out of here."

"Hey Captain, feel like cutting us some slack? We just got off doing the Joliet case." Warren inquired, as he glanced at the little white sheet of paper with the location of the crime scene on it. "Why not let Weinstein and Johnson handle this one?"

"Oh gee, guys," she shrugged, smiling, enjoying the moment. "I'd love to let you both sit back and eat your 'donuts' but this damn government insists I put you to work."

She shrugged her shoulders as if to ask, "What can you do?"

"Besides, I want my best on this one. I have another case for Johnson and Weinstein."

"As you wish," Warren commented.

He wasn't very thrilled about having to undertake another case that looked to be more challenging than the last one he just wrapped up.

"You want a vacation, take the time. Until then, it is what it is. If only they'd put more than one division per state, I wouldn't have to spread your asses so thin, but being as it is, get out there, make me proud."

"Gee, Captain, you can spread my ass thin anytime," Matthew joked, not really meaning a word he spoke.

Warren laughed, knowing the truth.

"Get out," Captain Lawrence said flatly, fighting the urge to chuckle herself.

The men gave each other a knowing look as they walked out of her office.

"Great, a body drained of blood and the head is missing. This has vampire written all over it. Damn, I'm hungry. How about later, we head over to Calvin's for some ribs," Warren suggested as he closed the office door behind them.

"That's fine with me. I've got a nagging feeling this case is going to be a pain in the ass," Matthew said as they grabbed their coats and headed for the parking lot.

"I'll drive," Warren said eagerly as he made a mad dash for the driver's side of Matthew's car.

"Like hell you will. You have a little too much of the speed demon in you. If you want to drag race, then do it in your own shit, not mine. Now saddle your ass into the spectator's seat," Matthew said as he pushed his partner in the direction of the passenger side of his brand new Python Triton, one of the highly desired foreign cars from Asia that everyone was buying.

It was an economy car, great on gas and it looked like a sports car. Warren admired the car and mentally noted to put the automobile on his wish list for Christmas.

"You know," Warren started as he looked around his partner's new car, "you should give this car to me as a Christmas present."

He smiled at his partner as he waited for an answer.

"Sure ... if you give me your Diamondback SUV. You know that I love that truck."

"Point taken, now, let's drop the subject," Warren said, smiling slyly.

"Yeah, not willing to give up your ride, I see." Matthew smiled broadly.

He had gotten the last word, which was hard to do with Warren. He reached for his emergency light and placed it on the top of the car, clicking on the portable siren as they sped through the morning rush hour traffic on the urban streets of Chicago.

"You know, it would be nice if the government increased the amount of officers on the S.U.I.T." Warren said.

"That'd be the logical thing to do, but I don't think they see the practicality in it. Plus, the training is hard as hell. I barely passed myself," Matthew said, thinking back to the moments he was drafted into both the police force and the S.U.I.T.

Twelve years ago, when Matthew was twenty-one, and fresh out of college, he had joined the Police force. After being on the force for seven years, and already a seasoned detective, he was partnered up with Warren, who had been on the force for five years. They hit it off instantly and had been partners and friends ever since. They never dreamt they would become the first and only human defense against supernatural criminals.

When the supernatural race (the politically correct phrase) was exposed, the government was forced to create a nationwide policing unit to monitor and arrest certain individuals with supernatural abilities who broke the law. So they began by recruiting a hundred-thousand of the nation's top cops and military personnel who were physically fit and mentally astute enough to begin the arduous training. They worked in paramilitary tactics, and with weaponry specially designed to deal with those who possessed supernatural abilities. The training had been created to improve motor skills and heightened senses of sight, smell, and hearing, which was extremely necessary to combat and apprehend the unique criminal element in the supernatural world.

Only five hundred out of the first hundred-thousand recruited made it through the demanding process, but more were needed. The call went out for more recruits which, in the end, gave the government the additional thousand officers needed to complete the fifteen-hundred-member armed force. There was another force of two thousand civilians assigned in certain fields, specializing in forensics, chemistry, character profiling, social behaviors, and weaponry. Because of their impeccable record of being among the best of the best on the police force, Warren and Matthew were drafted by the Superintendent of Police via the Mayor of Chicago for recruitment. Due to their unique partnership and their chief's belief that it would be very beneficial to the local Supernatural Unit Investigation Team, they were reassigned as partners to the Chicago division.

"I'm glad you did pass it. I would have missed having you as a partner," Warren said.

"You and me, both. We're here. Would you look at this crowd?" Matthew said as he slowly drove closer to the scene.

The location of the crime scene was packed with onlookers. Uniformed officers worked to keep the crowd away from the scene. Cars were backed up for blocks as more and more police vehicles and media trucks pulled up. Matthew navigated his car through the helter-skelter of patrol cars, finally parking in a spot as close to the scene as he could get.

The two detectives emerged and made their way past the bevy of excited reporters and curious spectators. An ambitious reporter, desperate to get the scoop, cut in front of them as they tried to make their way to the crime scene. Before they could get one step further the reporter thrust a microphone in Warren's face and began to bombard him with questions.

"Detective! Detective! Is it true that the body is headless? Do you think a supernatural did this?" asked the blonde, female reporter in the tight blue pantsuit as she struggled to keep pace with the two detectives' long strides.

"No comment," Warren said as they approached the uniformed officer guarding the crime scene.

The answer given didn't seem to satisfy the pushy reporter as she continued to ask the same questions in a different manner.

"Detectives, are you from the S.U.I.T. precinct? If you are, then this must have been a supernatural killing, right? What kind of supernatural did this? Was it a vampire or a shape shifter?" she asked in succession.

The two detectives ignored the line of questioning, continuing on to the yellow and black police tape blocking off the crime scene. Both men ducked under the tape in unison and continued making their way to the two detectives who were waiting for them to take over.

"Hey, Barry, look who's graced us with their presence. If it isn't the 'Dynamic Duo'," Detective Gabriel Johnson joked to his partner Barry Weinstein who was kneeling by the body.

"Heya boys," he greeted the approaching officers.

Barry straightened himself and made his way toward his partner.

"Warren... Matthew," Barry said, giving a little 'hello' nod to the two detectives.

"Gabe and I were the first on the scene. The guy who discovered the body is over there away from the media sharks."

He pointed to a twenty-something year old black male, standing against the side of a building.

"You know how hungry the media is for a story when they get a whiff of fresh blood," he joked.

All four detectives chuckled, nodding in agreement.

"Yeah, but the guy won't be able to tell you much. He was dumping the trash that should have been dumped the night before, when he came across the body. He said, 'he saw the legs sticking out from behind the dumpster and knew something wasn't right.' That's when he called the police, who called us in. That's about it," Gabriel said.

"Captain must really like you two. She gives you guys all the coveted cases," Barry teased.

Secretly, he was upset about being removed from this case, but was trying to keep it professional. He knew his partner felt the same way.

"Yeah, remind me to send her one of those famous Anisi gift baskets as a 'Thank You'," Matthew retorted.

"Well, as much as we would like to stay here and chit-chat with the two of you, we've just received a call. Captain wants us. Maybe she'll bestow upon us the same generosity she's shown you two," Gabriel said.

"Ha! Don't bet on it. She wants the two of us, 'cause we're hot," Warren joked.

"Yeah, I heard she likes guys with young, firm balls," Matthew added.

"Exactly. Not old shriveled, wrinkled balls like yours, so you're both out of luck," Warren finished.

"Well, I guess I have to settle for your mother then, hey Matthew?" Gabriel shot back, smiling slyly.

"Shit, be my guest! If she has a little Romeo on the side, maybe she'll stop bugging me about making her a grandmother," Matthew joked, causing the four detectives to laugh.

Gabriel and Barry said their "goodbyes", wrapping up their friendly banter and began walking toward their unmarked police cruiser as Warren and Matthew headed toward the body.

Matthew and Warren looked at the sheet-covered body which lay partially behind a dumpster in the alley of the Dark Night Travel Agency, a well-known agency that catered to the supernatural. After the supernatural race was exposed, all types of businesses saw it as another way to make a profit. This particular agency helped vampires travel during the day.

Both detectives stood over the corpse. They noted the small drops of blood spotting the sheet where the head should have been. Matthew squatted down beside the corpse, lifting the sheet to peek under. It looked to be the body of a black male and, on a closer inspection, he appeared to be middle-aged. Matthew threw a glance at Warren who seemed to be having a dilemma of his own. Matthew noticed Warren's breathing had increased and his jaw muscles had tightened. He also saw tiny beads of sweat forming on Warren's forehead.

"Hey, keep it together, man. You don't want to attract attention to yourself," Matthew encouraged his partner in a hushed voice.

"I'll be all right. Don't worry about me," Warren said, hoping to ease his partner's concern.

Matthew returned his attention back to the corpse before him, but in the recesses of his mind, he began to think back to the time when he'd first discovered Warren's supernatural secret nearly three years ago. They'd been on a stakeout, tracking down a child molester, who would strangle his adolescent victims, dress them up as life-sized dolls, and rape their corpses.

The stakeout had gone wrong when their suspect noticed their plain, black van parked across the street from his house. Matthew and Warren had hated the idea of trying to be "inconspicuous" using the van, but they'd had no other choice. They had been sitting in the van for eight hours on the third day, their butt-cheeks had gone numb and the Crunchy Crème donuts they had eaten earlier had left their bellies begging for refueling. It was at that moment when the nut came bursting through the front door of his house blasting his twelve gauge shotgun at their van.

Matthew would have caught a buckshot blast straight to the head had Warren not thrown himself in front of the shot, taking the injury in his upper right shoulder. Never losing their composure, they returned fire and took down their suspect. After disarming the man and confirming his death, Matthew returned to the van to check on Warren, the partner he trusted and now owed his life to.

Warren had covered his wound with his jacket, not wanting to let Matthew see it. He insisted that it was just a flesh wound and nothing to worry about. But Matthew, ignoring Warren's protests, struggled to apply pressure to stop the bleeding. He remembered trying to snatch the jacket away from Warren who seemed to be behaving as children sometimes do, hiding their wounds from their mothers so that they won't go dabbing alcohol into the wound. He joked with Warren, in hopes to diffuse the situation and keep Warren calm by telling him not to worry, he promised it wouldn't sting. Warren however, was adamant about keeping the wound hidden until Matthew pulled at the jacket with all his might. Warren had finally relented, exposing a partially healed wound. Matthew watched in amazement as the wound continued to heal. He watched as the torn muscles began to reattach themselves. He looked on in awe and disbelief as the skin reformed over the opening the buckshot had left, leaving nothing but the blood around the area where the wound had been. He was speechless. He remembered looking to Warren for an explanation.

Matthew listened as Warren, his partner of nearly two years, confessed that he was a werewolf. Warren had decided to use the mortal terminology for his species. Shape-shifters, like himself, never used terms like 'werewolf' or 'werecheetah'. He didn't like having his secret out, knowing full well that the laws were extremely biased when it came to his kind, even if he was a cop. Even if his intentions were good, he would be fired and probably prosecuted for lying and falsifying information during exams and testing. The human race didn't trust those of the supernatural race. "Birds of a feather," he supposed. He had trusted his partner enough to give Matthew the choice of keeping his secret or revealing it. In the beginning, Matthew had felt leery about such a revelation. He wasn't sure how he felt about having a flesh-eating beast as his partner.

In the end, Matthew believed he knew his partner well enough to know that he would never eat him ... he hoped. He decided to keep the secret and their bond became even stronger. It wasn't until after Matthew knew the truth about Warren that he started to understand his strange behavior of the past; such as the constant eating of high-fat, high-protein foods. He had never seen anyone who could put away two twenty-ounce porterhouse steaks the way Warren could and this was including the side dishes. He also began to recognize the look of bloodlust in Warren's gray eyes whenever they went to a bloody crime scene. He wondered how the hell it slipped his radar in the first damn place. He was amazed at how well Warren could endure the strong scent and sight of blood and flesh at crime scenes. He had chalked it up to Warren's own high level of personal discipline, determination and dedication to the job.

Matthew remembered the times when Warren had broken the handle of his car door not once, but twice trying to hop out of the car in a rush. He also remembered the time they had to chase down a suspect. He had decided to cut the suspect off in the car while Warren took to chasing the perpetrator on foot. He found it amazing when Warren had beaten him to the punch and had the suspect apprehended. Now that he knew the truth, all the pieces that hadn't made sense in the past fell into place.

Now, as Matthew looked at Warren again, he could tell by the way his partner's breathing was returning to normal that he had gotten control over his bloodlust and hunger and was ready to get his mind on the job at hand. Matthew reached into his right breast pocket, producing a retractable metal rod that he used to further examine the corpse without actually touching the body. A uniformed officer walked over to them, giving them each a pair of latex gloves. Matthew put on his gloves without hesitation. Warren always hated wearing the gloves. The scent from the latex and the powdered substance inside the gloves always agitated the sensory glands of his nose and mouth. Nevertheless, he slowly slid his hands into the gloves.

"Hey, look at this here, come closer," Matthew said inquisitively as he gestured for his partner to take a closer look.

As both men peered into the gaping hole where the victim's head used to be, Warren's breathing began to increase, but he kept his mind focused. He looked at the broken spinal cord, the torn muscles and sinew left behind. The remaining flesh looked jagged as though the head had been ripped away from the body.

They gave each other a guarded look. The conclusion was not one they wanted to embrace, but the evidence left them with no other choice. Whatever it was they were dealing with was strong ... and vicious. That was never a good combination. So far, they had been lucky. The last case they were on had been the most grueling case since they joined the new division or rather, were "appointed" to the new division. They'd had to track down a werewolf in Joliet, Illinois.

The werewolf had run amok in the suburban neighborhoods, killing and mutilating four people. They had cornered him on a farm right outside Joliet, after he had slaughtered two cows. The family had heard the ruckus and alerted the local police, who notified the S.U.I.T. authorities. The suspect was not willing to negotiate, so they had to take him down. At that point, Matthew had been more than happy that his partner was a supernatural. They would not have survived otherwise.

"It looks as though the fucking head was snatched off," Matthew said coming back to the present situation as he inspected more of the corpse.

He noticed that the body was fully clothed. Relief spread through his mind that if there was anything else to find, it would be Marshall Galen's job, as medical examiner, to find it. As soon as that thought came into this head, so did the dread that whatever Marshall found would just add more drama to an already dramatic case.

"Yeah, that's what it looks like. The spinal cord was snapped like a twig. The flesh of the neck is all torn at the edges. See look here," Warren pointed and made a circular motion around the neck area. "Looks a little stretched, doesn't it? Like someone or something pulled and pulled until the skin and everything in between gave way. They could have done it in a fast motion but I think ... at least I feel in my gut ... that this killer wanted to feel and savor the sensation of slowly ripping off someone's head."

Warren rose quickly, shaking his head from side to side as he walked a few paces away from the corpse.

He had to regain his composure. The thought of someone so sick and twisted that they would derive pleasure out of such a macabre act of violence disgusted him. What unnerved him most was that the remains of that violent act made him want to get down on all fours, crawl over to the headless corpse and pig out like ninety-going-north. Matthew looked at him. He knew how hard it was for Warren; he knew his secret.

"Hey, Detective Davis, you ain't gonna puke, are you?" A uniformed officer called out as he noticed Warren with his back turned toward the corpse. "Aww, don't tell me a little blood gets you two boys all green."

"Fuck you, rookie," Matthew shot back in their defense. "Don't you have some tickets to write?"

He took the gloves off, tossing them in the portable disposal unit the officer was holding. He walked to his partner, patting him on the shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

Warren nodded.

"Good. Are you ready to talk to the one lead we have?" Matthew asked.

Warren took a deep breath. He looked at Matthew and nodded. In retrospect, Warren was relieved he had confided in his partner when he did. He trusted in their relationship enough now to let it all hang out. Matthew knew his friend's "condition" even though it still shook him up, especially when Warren became glassy-eyed over spilt blood. Warren wished he had the control of the older ones; the pride of the Pack, those who could walk into a slaughterhouse and never even blink. He marveled at the amount of self-control one must have to resist such a temptation. He admired his Pack leader, Xander, for his superior self-control. However, Alexander, known affectionately as Xander, treated his Pack with that same amount of control which sometimes got on Warren's nerves. By the same token, Xander was equally protective of the Pack; Warren respected and loved him for that.

Xander never really approved of Warren's choice to join the Police Force. He was true to the traditional ways; old traditions had wisdom. In Xander's opinion, it just wasn't wise to take up a profession that might expose your secret. Being a police officer was high on his 'hell no' list. Although, Xander did acknowledged the benefits one could gain from working within and beside the law. He wasn't blind to that fact, but he feared Warren would be exposed, then hunted down because of what he was. Xander would not stand for that. Warren remembered the heated argument he'd had with Xander when he informed him that his secret had been exposed to his partner. Xander had threatened to kill Matthew, said he knew too much, but Warren had convinced him that this exposure was a move in the right direction.

Xander had scoffed at that statement. It didn't ease his suspicions or his thoughts of killing all who knew about them. It was one thing for the whole supernatural race's existence to be exposed. It was another to announce yourself as one. Because of that, Xander kept a close eye on Warren, the orphaned son of his Pack mates.

Warren's mother and father had been murdered by a renegade group of deranged mortals. They shot both of his parents, piercing their brains with silver bullets while they were tending to their farm. Warren had barely escaped with his life. He ran into the woods, staying hidden until nightfall. Then he had gone to the one place his parents told him would be safe if anything ever went wrong. He ended up on Xander's doorstep in the middle of the night, a scared six-year-old boy. Xander had taken Warren under his wing and raised him as his own. Warren was brought up in the traditional ways of the Pack. Despite all of Xander's teachings, Warren had embraced the "mortal" lifestyle, including his career choice. Ever since his parents were murdered in front of him as a child, he had wanted to be a cop so that he could catch the bad guys.

Warren thought Xander should loosen up a bit. He knew that due to Xander's old age, change was always difficult, especially after having lived for over two centuries. His Pack Alpha was pretty much hell-bent on keeping with tradition and was most reluctant to change the old ways.

Warren was silently thankful to Xander for allowing him, however reluctantly, to work with S.U.I.T. While walking toward the one lead they had in their current case, knowing he wouldn't get much from him, Warren reminisced on the day, long past, when he had been at home watching TV and his favorite family cartoon show had been interrupted for a special news bulletin. He remembered thinking it better be pretty fucking important to interrupt, "The Samsons". He'd sat there and watched history in the making as the report commenced to prove supernatural existence beyond what the human mind could comprehend. It was all over the radio and had even worked its way into the cable network channels. So even if people were watching QueerPeople, they were going to know the news.

Warren watched, along with billions of people worldwide, as the supernatural world was exposed for all to see, for all to know. An overambitious reporter had scooped the story of a lifetime, revealing a corrupt politician who had been bitten and turned by a tiger. He was among several other politicians who were secretly keeping an abandoned military base in Death Valley. They'd had the hidden facility specially designed to perform experiments on vampires and shape-shifters and study the results. His mouth had dropped open as he'd watched that report. He'd felt grateful that he had been skilled enough at deceiving the mortals about his true identity thus far. He had learned how to control his hungers and lust, well enough to remain unnoticed, and unchallenged (outside of Matthew).

Xander had resented everything about the outing. It angered him that shape-shifters were tortured and killed at the military base. He had known that mortals would react badly after finding out.

"Mortals always hunt down and destroy what they can't control, or understand, or what they fear," Xander had said as he made numerous phone calls to other Pack leaders arranging an emergency meeting.

Xander had been right. In the months that followed, after the humans got over the shock of supernatural beings existing in their world, mass paranoia began. People had begun to panic and there had been pure chaos. Humans started looking over their shoulders; people started killing each other over the slightest suspicion.

Warren remembered getting a call from a hysterical woman who said her husband had just shot and killed their neighbor with a sniper rifle. Her husband was convinced their neighbor was a vampire because he only saw him up and about at night. Turns out the now dead neighbor liked to take nightly walks because he suffered from insomnia. The madness didn't stop there. The crime rate increased; it was the highest in years. The ironic part of it was it wasn't the supernatural creatures that were committing the crimes, but the human race itself killing other humans as well as supernaturals.

It was not until some bills were passed a year later that the madness subsided. Angry and fed up family members were tired of fighting for their lives and the lives of their loved ones who had been turned. Those people made their voices heard loud and clear and the government had to acknowledge that the worldwide, fear-induced bloodshed had to be dealt with and fast. Martial law was enforced, giving the government time to think of a plan.

Some supernaturals, fearing they would be hunted down and slain, decided to form a Council in an attempt to gain positive exposure and establish themselves among the humans. They joined with the American government to share information and develop laws equal to those the human race already enjoyed. The human race was trying to restore order from the madness they had caused. They were trying to get control over what they could not comprehend. Many supernaturals believed that the human race was foolish and vain to think that they could be the overlords of all the supernaturals' power and wisdom. The humans had been underestimated. America was the first country to form the "Laws of Co-existence" with the supernaturals successfully. Most of Europe followed, then Canada and Asia, making the "Laws of Co-existence" partially international.

The first bill that was passed into law clearly stated supernatural creatures were now required to obey the same laws as every mortal. If they committed a murder, they were arrested and were to have their day in court. If a supernatural was suspected of a crime, and if they turned themselves in willingly, they would await their trial date for up to a period of seven days. They would then be tried by a mixed jury of humans and supernaturals (shape-shifters only), and if found innocent, they were set free but monitored ... if found guilty, they were to be executed immediately. However, if a supernatural refused to be taken into custody, they were executed on the spot. Due to their supernatural abilities, their right to "Due Process" was not equal to that of humans.

Law number two was more for vampires than shape-shifters. No drinking from mortals who were not willing. It was understood that a bite from a vampire was equivalent to sex for a human. You could not arrest and charge two adults for having consensual sex; therefore, you could not charge a vampire for getting "bloody" with someone who consented to the bloodletting. However, the union could not be fatal; it also had to be with an adult. Anyone under the tender age of eighteen was jailbait and anyone who did not consent was considered raped. In addition to this law, the willing conversion of a mortal was prohibited. It was considered suicide if a mortal consented to conversion. Of course, vampires didn't really adhere to this portion of the law.

The vampires had taken to that law rather harshly. Some of the young ones retaliated. They had no idea what humans had in store for them. If found in the act of "raping," "murdering" or "child molesting," if that supernatural couldn't be apprehended in a "peaceful" manner, they were to be shot and killed on the spot. This was stated in the news bulletin when they announced the new laws. What they didn't say was that they had gathered a great deal of information on the supernaturals, due in part to all the materials and documentation gathered from the secret facility in Death Valley. For instance, a trained mortal knew what to look for in appearance, physical attributes, etc. The government was better prepared and was well-equipped to deal with the supernaturals. The S.U.I.T. Organization was armed with ultraviolet gel ammunition for the bloodsucking undead and liquid silver-nitrate bullets for shape-shifters. These specially designed bullets would explode upon impact and work their way through the blood stream, making it virtually impossible for any to survive. Regular silver bullets hurt and took longer to heal, but didn't kill the shifter unless they struck in a vital area. Any liquid silver entering the blood stream meant an inevitable death.

Warren wondered if Xander would be able to survive a vital hit from a regular silver bullet. He suspected that because of his age he may be able to heal, if he drank the blood of the Pack Matron. However, he doubted Xander would be able to survive being shot by a liquid silver-nitrate bullet. The humans had been prepared. After a few vampires who were in violation of law number two were made examples of, the vampires were "less inclined to exhibit any rash behavior." Or so that's what the Secretary of State said during his speech when he announced the decrease in supernatural crime. Warren had to admit the thought of a combustible silver-nitrate bullet going through his chest would make him feel a little more law abiding. His other Pack mates had been outraged, feeling helpless against the change. Warren wondered in amazement if this was the first time the supernatural race felt truly vulnerable. He suspected Xander wasn't worried, but cautious ... always cautious.

Law number three was pretty much directed at shape-shifters. Shape-shifters were to go to a government protected and sanctioned hunting ground on the nights when there would be a full moon. Some of the Pack leaders had disputed this bill. Many said they had their own private property, and would not take too kindly to being monitored while they changed, mated and hunted. After three months of deliberation, the government relented, only to revise the bill. The revised bill now stated if one did not have a "designated" hunting ground, you were required to go to a government sanctioned one provided in each state. Once finalized, there were no exceptions to this law. If found off hunting grounds, the shape-shifter would be contained, charged, most likely deemed dangerous, then executed.

In the beginning, there were a lot of unexplained "accidents" when a supernatural was taken into custody for suspicion of committing a crime. They were often tortured or murdered by spiteful officers wanting revenge. It was during this time the supernaturals protested while their council spoke out against the cruel and illegal tactics of the government's supernatural police force. The entire S.U.I.T. organization went under investigation. The offending officers were arrested and sentenced.

The last bill to be added became law number four to establish equal protection for supernaturals. For there were individuals and radical humanist groups who decided to turn their Thursday night poker club into outlandish cults that would chase down members of the supernatural race to destroy what they could, by maiming and killing whomever they could find. This new law, which was much needed, prohibited any type of vigilante acts of violence upon a member of the supernatural race. Many outraged groups felt that the human race should not have to share the world with "freaks". They vowed to continue their "fight against the forsaken," as they called it. Warren had arrested a few of these fanatics, satisfied to have finally rid the streets of them. Though he knew where there was one, there were several thousand. However, there were enough intelligent civilians, including politicians, who knew that to start a war with the supernaturals would incite the destruction of the human race. These individuals lobbied ceaselessly to pass law number four; they knew that the government had to offer protection to the supernaturals in order to guarantee protection for human existence.

The laws left little room for mischief and seemed to keep things under control. Supernaturals were U.S. citizens rightfully. All of humanity now knew they could not destroy the supernatural race; some humans didn't want to destroy supernaturals at all. Many historians were baffled and marveled at the whole idea of immortal creatures; beings that have seen empires rise and fall, wars begun and ended. They knew who shot two of America's most famous presidents. They knew what it was like to watch Rome burn and hear the psychotic tunes from the Emperor's fiddle. Then there was the medical scientist who wanted blood samples, urine samples, sperm and egg samples. They wanted to know what was in the supernaturals blood that was different from their own, and how to make that blood work for them.

Many other businesses including restaurants, bars, clubs, stores, and airports opened their markets to the supernaturals. However, there were some businesses that reinstated the segregation law, barring supernaturals from "human only" establishments. Even though mankind was learning to co-exist, the two races were far from equal in all that the world had to offer. There were other bills being brought before the legislature that wanted to incorporate supernatural studies in schools as well as cultural awareness courses. This caused great debates within the ranks and the bills had yet to be voted on.

Chapter Two

"Girl, get up already. Your ass needs to get downtown for that damn job interview. You know you can't live off of me forever," Annette said playfully with a southern drawl as she pulled the satin sheets from the stubborn fingers of her best friend, Natasha. "Come on, Tasha, get up, girl! I let your ass sleep through exercise time, so now you don't have any excuse to be tired, get up!"

With one final tug, Annette freed the sheets from her friend's mighty grip and tossed them aside. She flopped down on the bed beside the grumpy woman and began tickling her. Natasha could no longer pretend to be asleep and began to wiggle and laugh outright as the other woman's fingers traced over her ticklish areas.

"Okay, okay already! Damn, I'm up. I'm awake. Breathe back and let me up. I'm getting out of the bed right this minute, happy?" She glared at her friend playfully.

"You know, sometimes I hate you," she joked.

Annette only smiled, crawled off of the bed and headed for the kitchen to flip over the bacon. This was her week to cook breakfast and she was accustomed to a true down home southern-style breakfast with all the trimmings. Sizzling maple-glazed bacon, scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese. Not to ever be without a few slices of honey glazed ham, thick slices of French toast sprinkled with cinnamon and powdered sugar, slow cooked grits, (cheese was optional) and hash browns mixed with green and red peppers and onions. All this was to be topped off with a tall glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

Natasha always wondered how Annette could eat like a bear and still retain her slim, curvy figure. It always seemed to get her the big bucks at Desires Unleashed, the super popular dance and strip nightclub where Annette worked, stripping five nights out of the week. Natasha was a bit envious; her metabolism was practically non-existent as far as she was concerned. She could swear she felt the pounds pile on with every calorie she ate. One thing she knew for certain, if she continued to eat Annette's southern-style meals, she would no doubt end up looking like a beached whale. She could smell the tantalizing aroma coming from the kitchen and felt her mouth water.

After handling her necessities, she reached for her battery operated OralSmart toothbrush. The advertising guaranteed that the toothbrush would reach the back molars to remove plaque and debris that would have otherwise been left to damage your teeth by the competition. Annette had accused her of being a "lazy ass" when she first caught her using the motorized toothbrush. Natasha didn't care, she loved the way the bristles massaged her gums as the toothpaste provided a cool foam. Whether or not it was better than a regular toothbrush, was anyone's guess. After gargling, she hit the shower, hoping Annette was too preoccupied in the kitchen cooking her high-fat, high-calorie, high-blood pressure, quick heart-attack breakfast to come running into the bathroom to flush the toilet like she did last week, trapping her in a shower of ice cold water. She could have killed her for that. That little act of cruelty would not go unpunished. Natasha had to keep score so that she could get even.

She finished bathing and climbed out of the shower. She rummaged through her closet for something to wear that wasn't too small, big or out of date. Natasha silently noted that she needed to go shopping. Having stuck to her diet and being prodded out of the door at five o'clock in the morning by Annette to jog four days out of the week, she had managed to get down to a size eight. She knew the reason for her weight gain. Her mom had always warned her to never take comfort in food, but when her boyfriend of four years left her for a size two slut with silicone tits and collagen lips, and her dog of twelve years passed away from old age, not to mention getting a sudden promotion on her job, only to be caught up in the downsizing struck her all in the same month, she took it pretty hard. But resilient as ever, she had bounced back.

Natasha finally settled on a pair of black, front-pleated slacks and a satin, smoke gray button-up shirt with faux mother-of-pearl buttons. She searched her shoe rack for the perfect footwear, spotting a pair of black leather ankle boots with a two and a half inch heel. Two inch heels were challenge enough for her to walk in. She couldn't see how Annette managed to walk in six inch spikes every day let alone dance in them five nights out of the week. Leaning over the vanity, Natasha applied her make up. Because of her caramel complexion, she chose flesh toned cosmetics by Anisi. She preferred the more "natural" look. She appreciated cosmetic companies that acknowledged the other flesh tones in the world.

"Well, don't you look like you really want that job. I like how you did your hair; it turned out nicely. I was doubtful, but it's all good," Annette said, smiling at her friend's crinkly long locks. "I like that whole ethnic look, remind me to try that style."

Natasha looked at her friend with raised eyebrows. "Thinking about a make-over?"

"Maybe. Got to keep those dollars coming to my g-string, don't I?" Annette said with a swivel of her hips and a shake of her well rounded derriere.

Natasha giggled at her friend's antics. "So you're working tonight?" she asked once her chuckles faded. "I thought you were off this Friday?"

She sat down at the table and began preparing her plate, adding small servings of everything. She thought twice about adding bacon and ham, but then decided you only live once. Taking small portions of everything, she settled back into her chair and started stuffing her mouth.

"Yeah, I have to be there at seven o'clock. I wasn't going to work tonight, but then Sara wanted to switch nights with me so that she and her asshole boyfriend could patch up their sinking relationship. They're planning on going to a hotel or some sleazy motel, for a passionate night of three-two minute sex romps. So I'm on the night shift. The only good thing about it is that it's a Friday night so the place will be super crowded and the tips will be oh, so lovely. This body's going to get mama that new car ain't that right?" she said, then proceeded to lap dance in her chair.

"Your ass is disgusting," Natasha said with a mock grimace.

"On the contrary, my ass is firm, round, bodacious and I know how to work it. Do I need to demonstrate?"

"Oh God, no! Besides, I don't have any money for you and I know you're too greedy to work for free."

"Oh, that's right. No show for you."

The two women laughed and continued conversing as they finished their breakfast.

The time was 10:42 A.M., and Natasha had everything she needed. She had her resume, references, portfolio and confidence. She headed down to the Chicago Word for her appointment. She had heard through a friend of a friend, whose cousin worked at the popular and well credited newspaper, that there was a position available for a photographer. It was a long-shot, but a shot nonetheless; she hoped the position wasn't already filled. She hated looking for a new job. It always made her think of prostitution—getting dressed in your most attractive attire, the kind of outfit that states you mean business; then leaving the comfort of your home to go from interview to interview, trying to sell yourself to just about anyone who would give you a chance to prove your worth. If you were really good at what you did, then you could name your price while you recited your skills.

"Miss, you may go in now," said the little snooty secretary.

Natasha didn't like this woman. She didn't appreciate the little sideways glances she kept getting from her. Besides, she thought her cleavage baring red blouse and just-below-crotch length black skirt were inappropriate for the work place. Then again, maybe she didn't like her because she reminded her of her ex-boyfriend's new flame. One thing was for certain, she would continue to not like her until the woman proved herself to be likable. She knew she was being judgmental and unfair, but it made her feel better.

Once inside the office, she sat nervously as the interviewer went through her portfolio and résumé, every once in a while darting expressionless glances at her. Natasha couldn't decide whether it was this man's three piece charcoal-black suit, complete with buttoned up vest, the big office, or his own masculine aura, whatever the case, she could feel her confidence melting away with every passing minute.

"It says here," he said, pointing to a spot on her resume, "that you graduated from Gibson College here in Chicago. You majored in photography and ..." he cocked his head sideways, "psychology. What interested you in those two fields?"

He looked up at Natasha, anticipating her response.

Natasha straightened up; not realizing she was slouching and she hoped to god the interviewer hadn't notice for her sake.

"Well, I've always been entertained by the idea of capturing beauty or freeze-framing the special events of time in a photograph. As a child, I would take pictures of random things with my instant camera and make collages. I loved how a person could capture motion or emotion in an instant. With a picture, that one moment would last forever, even if the memory faded."

She paused to catch her breath. The interviewer seemed pleased with her answer and genuinely impressed by her obvious passion.

"And what about the psychology?" he asked.

It really didn't matter to him what her answer was for that question. He was just intrigued by her choice of the double majors. He had decided immediately after reviewing her portfolio that it was the best work he had seen in a long time. He was pleased with the way she worked with light and shadows. She had an eye for beauty as well as freezing the "moment." Whether it was a roaring waterfall or an elderly lady celebrating a birthday, her photographs came to life to tell their own story.

"Well, that's a more boring story. I had to take a psychology-credited class for one of my general electives and I just became intrigued by the human psyche. I found it interesting that there were classifications for the various behaviors that people exhibited. And equally as interesting were the various scientific reasoning for these behaviors. Not to mention the various methods used for treatments, only to discover there's still so much for us to learn." She finished with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

The interviewer seemed to ponder that for a moment. The answer was even simpler than he had expected. He gathered himself, clapped his hands together as if he was breaking a spell and rose from his seat.

"Well, Miss Hemingway, I'm not one to beat around the bush. You will be pleased to know that you have the job. Congratulations. We expect to see you bright and early, Monday morning. The good news is you'll start working at the beginning of the pay period," he said as he shook her hand.

"Thank you so much for this opportunity. I promise you won't be disappointed," Natasha said, shaking the interviewer's hand.

She couldn't believe her luck, finally landing a job and after only six months of being jobless. Well, she did have to admit that for the first three months, she had spent that valuable time perfecting her couch potato skills. Her best friend Annette had tried to convince her to apply at one of the many new, hot spots popping up all over the city being run by bloodsuckers and flesh eaters. However, that was a little too close for comfort. She never saw the vampire owned club that Annette worked in. She didn't even want to see a vampire or shape-shifter if she didn't have to.

Annette had laughed at her, saying that she'd probably had already seen vampires and shape-shifters time and time again and didn't know it. She said that the differences between the supernatural and human races were so subtle, usually people overlooked the difference either by refusing to believe what their eyes saw, or by sheer ignorance.

Still, Natasha decided to not tempt the wolf with a steak—the steak being her. She just stayed clear of establishments that were known to be owned or patronized by supernaturals. She was glad the international governments in certain countries made those particular business owners register their businesses. Of course, she couldn't decide whether or not they did it to keep track of the supernatural businesses for the safety of the people, or just to charge such businesses an outrageous tax fee. In the end she decided to not be concerned about that.

There was a celebration to be had. She finally landed a job and it was the kind of job she had wanted for a long time. It was true that good things come to those who wait, and Lord knows she had waited. She pulled out her little cell phone to call Annette. She waited impatiently while the phone rang several times. She hoped Annette was home; there was nothing worse than having something to say, and no one to say it to. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, Annette answered the phone just in time. Natasha was just about to hang up.

"Hello?"

The voice was breathless as if the person had run the hundred-meter dash or just had some really wild sex. She wasn't sure which one would be Annette's excuse. It wouldn't be the first time that Annette answered the phone in the middle of an unmentionable activity.

"Annette?" Natasha asked to make sure.

"Yeah, Natasha? Girl, you had me running from the shower like I was going for the gold. What's up? It better be some good news 'cause I almost fell trying to get to the phone," Annette said as she returned to a normal breathing pace.

"That would have been funny," Natasha said with a giggle as she imagined her best friend skidding across the floor.

"Funny for who? Certainly not for me. I'm too old to be falling and shit."

"Man, whatever." Natasha giggled. "Guess what?"

"What? Please tell me you got the job?"

"I got the job!"

The women screamed over the telephone so loudly, they both had to pull the phones away from their ears.

"Tasha, I'm so happy for you. I knew if you got off your lazy ass, you could accomplish anything, even getting a job. So now, does this mean I can start borrowing back all the money your ass has borrowed from me?" Annette asked jokingly.

"Yeah, for sure. You've been the greatest, letting me move in with you and taking care of me. I'll never forget it, Annette," Natasha said with the utmost sincerity.

She silently vowed she would return the favor one day.

"Oh girl, don't mention it. You would have done the same for me," Annette stated matter-of-factly.

Natasha would have done the same for her and probably anyone else who was down on their luck. Everyone who knew her called her a "bleeding heart". She believed wholeheartedly in the golden rule. She always treated people the way she herself wanted to be treated. She also believed that if you do good on this earth, then you are bound to be granted numerous blessings. You just had to recognize the blessings when they came. She knew that getting this job at this time in her life was a blessing, just like meeting Annette at a Laundromat three years ago had been a blessing. True friends were hard to find.

"Okay look, we have to celebrate. I'll be getting off tonight at 1 A.M. I don't care if you don't drink; tonight your punk ass is going to have at least one Long Island with me. Say, why don't you meet me at ..." Annette thought about her friend's reluctance to delve into the underworld, she decided to choose a meeting place where Natasha could feel comfortable. "... Let's hook up at the Slayer's Lair. Cool?"

The two women set their plan for that night. Natasha was content with celebrating at the Slayer's Lair. It was one of the few establishments that didn't let their greed blind them. They tried not to cater to "scum." Scum meaning vampires, shape-shifters, supernatural groupies and whatever else fairy tales were made of.

There was even a plaque on the wall outside of the popular dance club that stated the requirements for entry. The dress code alone was strict enough to scare off the groupies. All patrons who wanted to party the night away would have to be human and adhere to the dress code of "brightly colored clothes of considerable taste." To wear all black was to be denied entry, the right was reserved. Natasha decided to go shopping for a brand new outfit for later that night. The outfit had to reflect her ecstatic mood. She was thinking along the lines of a white jean skirt and matching top. She hit Michigan Avenue to see what she could find. She walked up and down the crowded shopping district searching for her outfit. There were so many stores. Some of them carried high priced designer fashions while others were more reasonable and definitely affordable for Natasha. She entered those stores first.

She enjoyed shopping on Michigan Avenue, especially in the wintertime, like now. The streetlights were all decorated with yellow Christmas lights and green, red and silver tinsel. The department stores' windows all had festive displays or decorations, either displaying the nativity or Santa Claus out making his rounds. People were friendlier in the wintertime. She figured it was because December was the most giving holiday in the year. She passed a Salvation Army steward, dressed in an old and worn looking Santa suit, rattling his bell somewhat lazily. She assumed he had been out there for hours and was probably cold. She believed wholeheartedly that it was always better to give than to receive and now that she had a new job, it was time to spread the blessings. She walked over to the man, gave him a five dollar bill so he could get something to eat and put another five dollars in the little red metal pail as a donation.

She continued down the street until she saw what she wanted to wear in a store window. She knew it was cold outside, but that is why you have a down coat, she thought. She paid for her outfit, had something to eat and caught a movie. She looked at her watch, surprised at how fast time flew. The sun had already set; it was past five o'clock. The nights were coming faster and lasting longer now. She had to get back home and catch a "disco nap" before she got dressed to go out to celebrate with her friend.

Chapter Three

"Master, I've counted the bank from last night five times and I still come up with the same total. We're short from last night's profits—one-thousand, five-hundred and sixty dollars. You want me to call Anthony and tell him to come in tonight so that you can speak with him?" asked the slender vampire as he stood in the middle of his Master's office.

His beautiful blue eyes were hidden behind the veil of his long blonde bangs. He was apprehensive about the outcome. He was hoping that he wouldn't be blamed for this blunder; he was the night manager at Desires Unleashed, but he could not see all.

Darian lay stretched out on his back on the black suede sofa. His fingers lay interlocked on his chest. His legs crossed at the ankles allowing his feet to rest elevated on the armrest of the sofa. An expression of sheer amusement spread across his face as he gazed at the dimmed lights hanging from the ceiling. His second-in-command and lover, Xavier, sat on the armrest nearest his head, one leg crossed over the other with both hands resting in his lap. He shifted his position a bit to glance down at Darian and smiled. He knew what this powerful master vampire clad in a black silk shirt and pants was going to do to this individual, this fool who dared to steal from him. Xavier reflected on Anthony's predicament. Not only was Anthony a moron for trying to steal from his boss, but he was beyond the norm of idiocy for trying to steal a measly $1,560 from a master vampire. Especially one with Darian's reputation. What the hell was the sixty bucks for anyway?

Xavier reached over towards Darian's face, removing the wavy lock of jet-black hair blocking his view of those gorgeous forest green eyes, accented by thick, perfectly arched, black eyebrows. Darian's eyes held a depth that could be both dramatic and sensual. Xavier had never seen eyes that shade of green before. In the beginning, when Xavier had first become a vampire, it had unnerved him. As time moved on, he began to notice a lot of vampires' features were extraordinary compared to mortals. Some vampires, especially powerful ones, were well known for having rare and exotic eye color that captured those who dared look into them. At least, that was the rumor. Darian had told him the color of his eyes was natural. However, the effect his eyes had on others was what made them exotic ... supernatural. In addition to a set of knock-out eyes, powerful vampires had hair as soft as a newborn baby and skin just as smooth and silky. Xavier relished the feel of Darian's skin against his. The sensation of their fingers caressing each other's most sensitive zones—the very thought of it sent goose bumps to the surface of his skin.

He broke his gaze from Darian's eyes. Though no spell was cast, just one look into those eyes, one glance at those full luscious lips and double-dimpled smile sent a rush of desire through his body. It made his mouth water and made the bloodlust rise to a boiling point. At this stage, he would want nothing more than to be thrown to the floor, his black leather jacket ripped from his back, followed by his gray ribbed sweater and boot cut blue jeans. His underwear would be last ... his lover would take those off slowly to feed his lust, to add anticipation for the indescribable pleasure that would soon follow.

No, he had to get back on track ... back to the seriousness of the situation at hand. Sometimes he resented moments where just one look at Darian or just hearing Darian's voice could make him feel like a newly born fledgling, consumed with desire for his master's touch. Well, one thing was certain, he was no longer a new born fledgling. Darian smiled at Xavier as if he had just read his mind, which he could easily do.

There were two types of bonds that vampires shared: a mental bond and blood bond. The mental bond between master and fledgling was formed when a fledgling was first reborn, the master could mentally manipulate the fledgling to help train and guide them. Over time, the strength of that bond weakened as the fledgling learned to control their own actions and their makers no longer needed to have that strong of a connection with them. However, the ability to read each other's thoughts was shared between all vampires, unless the more powerful vampire blocked the connection.

The exception to this bond was found in the most powerful of vampires. These ancient vampires had the ability to control vampires weaker than themselves. They had mastered their telepathic power enough to bypass natural bonds. The blood bond, on the other hand, was forever. It was a bond that could be manipulated to increase a vampire's strength or to heal and nourish. Only vampires of the same bloodline could share blood for the healing power and to increase strength. Any vampire could share blood for nourishment and pleasure. The taking and giving of blood from one vampire to another was orgasmic and the stronger the vampire sharing the union, the more pleasurable the entire experience.

Since the blood of a direct line could work a certain magic, Darian was extremely particular when it came to sharing his blood. He made certain that whomever he shared with would be his lover in both flesh and blood. He also demanded a certain allegiance for such an offer, which he did not make lightly.

He lay comfortably on the expensive sofa, thinking about what his response should be.

"John, please do call in our Anthony. Tell him Richard took the day off and he is needed to fill the time slot. Inform him he will be paid time-and-a-half for the double shift."

He turned toward the younger vampire. "When he arrives, bring him to me. Do not allow him to escape. Do I make myself clear?"

His voice was low and masculine. One could hear the vibrations of each syllable, every word laced with a trace of his Greek accent.

"Yes, Master, crystal."

John bowed slightly and left the room. Xavier watched John Fallon leave as he rose from the armrest, walking over to the three-hundred gallon fish tank filled with piranhas built into the wall behind a huge desk. He had admitted to Darian that he loved this office. The floors were black and red marble, with a thick black, gray and blood-red art decor area rug covering the middle of the floor. The rug itself was a pleasure to walk on, with or without shoes.

There was a three-sectioned black marble desk with carvings of ancient Greek mythological gods on each leg. It reminded Xavier of carved pillars. The black leather chair behind the desk reclined and was temperature controlled. One of the walls had a painted mural of an ancient city being burned to the ground of what he was told was the last hours of Troy. Another wall was made up of twenty-five fifteen inch television screens. Each screen could work individually as a security monitor or all of the screens could work collectively as a computer monitor or an extra-large screen television.

Darian had spared no expense when it came to the state-of-the-art sound system. He had hired a contractor to rig up his office and install a 5.0 Digitex digital surround sound speaker system. The system was compatible with the television screens and computer as well as a stand-alone audio system. Not only was his office a technological and artistic paradise, everything was voice controlled all the way down to the lighting system. There was also a remote control on standby, just in case fifty-five thousand dollars went wrong.

"I think I'll feed the fish now," Xavier said.

He knew Darian wouldn't care, both men delighted in watching the piranhas tear chunks of flesh to bits and pieces before devouring them. Xavier walked through the doorway leading to the feeding compartment of the tank. He located the cooler and pulled out a ten pound chunk of meat, still dripping with blood. Climbing the ladder, he opened the top of the tank, dangled the meat over the water letting the drops of blood tempt the fish. He dodged the lunging predators as they gathered for the prize. After a while, he dropped the meat into the tank, watching with perverse fascination. He enjoyed the feeding frenzy. There was a certain respect he had for anything that enjoyed the taste of fresh blood.

Nature didn't have to worry about the laws of man. Darian had been most upset when the bills were passed concerning vampires. He felt that vampires were the superior beings to both mankind and shape-shifters. He was resentful toward the supernatural Council for siding with the U.S. government and creating laws that only supernaturals had to abide by. He, along with other vampires, didn't like being monitored. He didn't appreciate that vampires were being forced to abide by laws that protected others who chose to discriminate. Xavier remembered hearing Darian complaining about how foolish mankind was, how utterly naive to believe that they really had the supernatural race under control. He would play along with their delusions as long as it didn't interfere with him. Xavier came back into the room, looking at Darian, who was still in the same position as before. His eyes were closed. He looked content.

"Are you going to lie there all night? No pun intended, but you look like a corpse."

He watched Darian's shoulders shake slightly from laughter. Xavier walked over to his lover and pounced on his lap. He received the reaction he wanted when Darian's lips parted in a beautiful dimpled smile. Xavier was always fascinated that Darian could look utterly harmless and dangerous at the same time. His dimples always made him look like a mischievous boy. He placed his hands on the sides of his lover and master's head, peering into his green eyes; a dangerous thing to do unless your goal was to get sweaty fast.

Darian slid his hands up Xavier's thighs, stopping short before he reached the firm mounds of his ass. "You are quite beautiful, my little inamorato, (male lover)," he said, running his fingers through Xavier's long, dark brown locks, gazing into his gray eyes. "You have not fed. I think you will have a treat tonight. That is, if our little rat doesn't scamper away. Then your treat will have to be postponed until tomorrow night."

Darian found the whole situation comical ... every once in a while, he would run into a mortal that would surprise him with their bravado or stupidity. Either way, he found it entertaining.

"Aren't you worried about the law prohibiting vampires from killing innocent mortals?" Xavier asked jokingly.

He knew full well that Darian would work inside the law when, and only when, he chose to do so. He knew that Darian preferred to handle his personal affairs ... Well ... personally.

"A thief is not innocent. The word innocent is always taken out of context where mortals are concerned. Everything for them is taken to the extreme. Good fortune used to be an act of a God, some divine intervention; now it's just a lucky shot. Hero meant someone who sacrificed their own life for the lives of others. Now it means someone who just happened to survive, no matter the manner of that survival."

Xavier seemed to ponder this. Sometimes Darian could be so cynical in his reasoning that often he wrote off his rants as just those of a man who had seen too many years. Then there were times like these, when he actually made sense. Xavier supposed Darian made sense most of the time, if not all of the time in his ranting. The room was silent. Now it was Darian's turn to wonder what was on the mind of his lover.

"What are you thinking about?"

Darian cocked his head to the side slightly as he gazed at him. His fingers tightened on Xavier's thighs.

"I'm thinking I should get off of you right now," Xavier said with a chuckle.

He playfully tugged at Darian's grip and rose off of his lap. It was evident that Xavier had been enjoying where he had been sitting. He marveled at how Darian could control himself so well; he simply wrote it off to Darian being an older vampire, thus having more self-control overall.

Darian sat up, rose from the sofa in one fluid movement, and walked gracefully across the room to his desk to finger through his employee files. He was going to have to call the next in line of mortal employees to maintain the club during the day. He found the name of Annette Balfour. Quickly, he scanned his mind to see if she was a person he would recognize. He did, smiling. Annette was indeed a beautiful, sexy woman. He wondered why he had not yet seduced her; he would have to correct that. He thought it would be interesting to have a female as a day time assistant manager. It would definitely be a change from the mortal men who always thought they could pull one over the resting eyes of the boss and "hightail" it out of town before nightfall. He leaned over his desk and buzzed his secretary.

"Yes, Master?" asked a soft feminine voice.

"Annabelle, I want you to contact a Miss Annette Balfour. I want to meet with her tomorrow night."

"Miss Balfour was scheduled to work tomorrow night Master, but that has been switched to tonight. She should be in by seven. Shall I send her to your office when she arrives?" asked Annabelle, a member of Darian's coven.

He considered whether he would still be occupied with eliminating the soon-to-be ex-assistant manager when she arrived, deciding the dirty work might be done by that time, he responded.

"Yes."

"As you wish, Master."

Both ended the connection. He looked at Xavier and smiled.

"So, is that your choice? What if she doesn't have accounting skills?" Xavier teased.

Darian waved a hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter. If she can count, it won't be a problem."

His gaze traveled over Xavier from head to toe, savoring the vision of him like a groom on his wedding night looking at his bride in her lacy underwear. Oh the things he could do to him ... another time.

"We have matters to attend to before the opening of the club. I want you to arrange for the truck to deliver the Synblood," Darian said.

Xavier nodded and left the room to head to his office to make arrangements for the synthetic blood delivery.

According to most vampires, synthetic blood was the humans' way of saying; "look what we've done for you, now you can stop eating us." What they failed to understand was the differences between synthetic blood and human blood was in the taste as well as the pleasure, not to mention the strength and nourishment one gained through feeding. Only another vampire could understand the pure joy of feeding. One who could feel the pleasure of the blood flowing through their veins while feeding from a mortal whose heart pumped the blood to their hunger, their need. Many vampires refused to drink the synthetic blood and opted to feed on willing humans. These humans were known as vampire groupies; they hung out at vampire owned establishments, waiting to be "chosen". They gave the vampires an endless supply of blood. Other vampires, like those who resented being turned, rejoiced in the drinking of synthetic blood, even if it meant enduring the loss of pleasure, strength and proper nourishment gained in the traditional manner of feeding.

Darian felt that these were the kind of vampires that should never have been chosen for such a gift. They were weak, still clinging to their lost mortal existence. For them, the synthetic blood was the last string tying them to humanity. Some vampires, like Darian and Xavier, chose the more traditional way of feeding. They hunted still, but their hunting nights were few and far between. Their main food source came from the vampire groupies. One good thing came from the Exposure and that was the predictability of mankind. Thousands of humans lined up to feel the vampire's kiss. But even more of a treat than a willing human, was a willing shape-shifter. It appeared that the bite from a vampire was pure ecstasy to both humans and shape-shifters. Shape-shifters were considered the true delicacy. They were stronger, more resilient and, needless to say, they tasted better.

Chapter Four

Elise lay sprawled on her bed, the head of one of her Pride mates resting in her lap. They were lying naked together as most shape-shifters did. To lay in that fashion proved that one was comfortable and trusting. It strengthened their bonds. She ran her fingers through his hair, twirling her fingers around the dark silky curls. He looked up at her with his gray eyes and smiled.

"What are you thinking about?" Sergio asked. "I see that far off gaze in your eyes and I know you're not even here." His Italian accent threaded through each word, making him sound both sexy and commanding. He raised his hand to cup her chin in his palm.

"Nothing, just random thoughts." She sighed. "I want to go down to the club tonight," Elise said almost dreamily.

Sergio frowned and sat up straight on the bed. He was annoyed that a perfect moment was ruined by her lust for Darian. He knew that was the only reason she wanted to go to the club. His feelings toward Darian were as cold as the arctic winds. He felt that Darian used her to feed his own lust and hungers. He believed vampires were the type you didn't get attached to; especially not that one. Elise noted Sergio's frown at the mention of the word "club", correctly assuming that he suspected it was Desires Unleashed and that his emotions were based on jealousy. She didn't want to hear his ranting. She controlled the Pride and she didn't have to answer to anyone, especially not about her personal business.

Elise looked at the sour expression on Sergio's face. She knew the numerous phrases which often followed that expression. 'He's not right for you', 'he's just using you', 'he's a vampire, you're a shape-shifter, he'll never respect you', and 'vampires only respect other vampires.' She'd heard it all before. They didn't know Darian. He was different. He made her feel like a lady, all the while taming the wild animal inside. Many of the other leopards were against her having an intimate relationship with a non-Pride member, let alone a vampire. She paid them no mind. Darian would protect them, he would protect her. Not to mention the fact that Darian had saved their Pride member, Daniel, from possibly being sentenced to death six months ago. He'd been caught in the woods, hunting on non-sanctioned grounds. To Elise, Darian had proved himself to be a worthy lover.

"I know what you're going to say and I don't want to hear it. You can save it, Sergio."

Elise climbed out of the bed with a smoothness only a feline could accomplish.

"The only reason you don't want to hear it is because you know it's true," Sergio retorted. "You belong with your own kind, Elise. This affair you have with Darian is wrong. It isn't proper."

Elise flashed him a look so fiery that it nearly silenced him, nearly.

"Look, I'm sorry, but you know I'm right, Elise."

He rose from the bed, his tall, naked body glowing in the starlight. Elise watched as the muscles in his thighs flexed with his movement. He walked over to her, gently cupping her cheeks, tilting her head upward so their eyes met.

"Elise, you don't need him. Yes, it's true that he saved Daniel but it's no reason for you to keep repaying him. Your place is here with us, with me. He can't offer you true companionship. Not like I can. I am your true mate."

He leaned closer to her, his lips brushing hers lightly. Their eyes closed as the heat of the kiss grew more passionate. As soon as it began, Elise broke away, moving from Sergio's grasp. Anger flared in his eyes. He turned away, not wanting to say anything that might hurt her feelings; that, he didn't want to do. He only wanted her to see that Darian was not what he seemed. He wanted her to see the truth that was right in front of her eyes ... the truth that he was there, and had been there for over twenty-five years, waiting for her to accept him as her mate. He was second to care for the Pride, but he longed to be her equal within the Pride and, above all else, her mate. He watched her as she walked into the bathroom. He heard the shower and knew she was bathing her soft, creamy delicate skin. Sergio walked into the bathroom. He leaned against the door frame, crossing his powerful arms over his thick, muscular chest. He was six-foot-four-inches tall, olive complexion, gray eyes and short, curly black hair. His chin was clean shaven. His long, dark lashes curled at the very ends. Sergio knew Elise desired him. Not only could he see her desire, he could smell it.

"Do you want me to go with you? You know what? Better yet, I think I will go with you."

Without waiting for an answer or permission, he turned, starting for his bedroom. He knew he was pushing it, but he always felt that Elise was worth it and then some. He hated that she was so enthralled with a vampire. Especially Darian, whose reputation spoke for itself. Many who knew him compared him to a mob boss. He always seemed to be so well connected. The S.U.I.T. never seemed to hang around and monitor his popular establishments. Desires Unleashed didn't seem to get any undercover investigations the way other supernatural owned businesses did. Sergio was quite certain that Desires Unleashed was more than just a dance and strip club.

When their Pride member, Daniel, found himself in trouble with the law six months ago, Sergio had pleaded with Elise to take him as her mate and protector of the Pride. He felt confident that he could handle the situation himself. Instead, she decided to go to Darian and with his political connections, he arranged to have Daniel released into their care. The whole act angered Sergio. He couldn't help but see it as a betrayal. Not only had she sought outside help, but in doing so, she made him appear incompetent. He was more than prepared to assume the position he desired and he had earned his place as the dominant male in the Pride. As far as he was concerned, Darian was not worthy of Elise and he'd prove it to her, eventually.

Sergio took a quick shower, making sure he used the scented shampoo that he knew enticed Elise. If he had to woo her away from Darian, then he would do so. He opened his closet and fished through his extensive wardrobe. He had not realized how many articles of clothing he had. Some things inside his closet he had not worn since the 1980's. He pulled out a checkered pink and orange shirt, and grimaced. He knew that eighties clothes weren't a high mark in fashion history, but what the hell had possessed him to buy that ugly-ass shirt and wear it was beyond him. Furthermore, why had he kept it? He wondered. Maybe he'd donate it, or burn it, whichever was more humane.

Suddenly there was a melodic knocking on his door and he knew it was Devin. He threw the ghastly shirt back into the closet and walked to the door unlocking it. Devin stood before him with a sly smile on his face. The five-foot-eight shifter, (which was rather petite for what he was, a natural born leopard) strolled past him into the room without an invitation. His hazel eyes sparkled with his own brand of mischief and only time would tell if he was up to something. He was twenty-one years old, though at times he acted as if he were younger, considering Devin was the Pride prankster.

Sergio loved all of his Pride members but wasn't necessarily in the mood for visitors right now. Unfortunately, he didn't have the heart to tell Devin to leave. Sergio walked away and continued fishing through his clothes. He wanted to wear something that was going to show the best he had to offer without revealing all he had to offer, which meant no sheer net shirts or spandex pants--though he wasn't opposed to spandex and sheer clothing, goodness knows. He was well endowed, never had a complaint in the bedroom department. His chiseled torso and tight, firm abs were what most mortal men dreamed of having.

He looked at the Pride mate who just sprawled himself across his bed, watching him as he searched for something to wear. With Devin's handsome features, neatly-cropped, dark hair and his caramel complexion which was smooth and blemish free, he could see why the younger shifter never had a problem getting a date. Not to mention his bursting personality. Still, he couldn't help but wondered why Devin had come to visit him since he hadn't said a word since entering the room. He finally found a pair of black leather pants then searched harder until he found a black, silk, button up shirt with metal buttons. He looked across the room and located his black motorcycle boots. He returned his attention to Devin, deciding to ask him if there was a particular reason he was there.

"So, what's up? Do you have something that you want to tell me? Or are you here just to keep me company?" Sergio asked as he tossed the towel he had wrapped around his waist and started pulling on the tight black leather pants.

"No, I just wanted to keep you company. I heard you and Elise talking earlier. Did you two have a fight or something? I mean, I know how pissed you are that she hasn't chosen you as mate yet or even named you as Pride king. I also know how pissed you are that she's with Darian. So, are you going to go with her to Desires Unleashed?" Devin asked.

"Well, as for the first thing you mentioned, that's none of your business. But to answer the latter of your questions, yes, I will be accompanying Elise to that wretched club," Sergio said as he pulled on his shirt and began buttoning it up.

"Well, do us all a favor," Devin started.

"What's that?"

"When you get there, get laid. You've been so damn uptight. I'm guessing it has been a while since the last time you got some."

"That's none of your business, you ass," Sergio remarked.

"And trust me, I'd rather not know, but you're starting to get on everyone's nerves ... and that is my business. So, do us all a favor and find a little cutie and get some booty, because we're all tired of getting our heads bitten off," Devin said as he hopped off the bed, smiling at Sergio.

"You little asshole," Sergio chuckled. His laughter was light-hearted and warm.

"Go, go on, get the fuck out of here. Tell everyone that I'll lighten up, but only a little. If I start slacking on you guys, you'll just get worse."

Both men laughed and Devin left Sergio alone to finish dressing. Sergio splashed on a little cologne, the same scent as his shampoo and body wash. He didn't want to smell of several different scents. People who used several different scents in their cosmetics gave him headaches whenever he was caught upwind of them. He applied a little styling gel to his hair and raked his fingers through, allowing some locks to hang over his forehead. He gave himself a look over. Once he was satisfied with his appearance, he headed down to Elise's room to see if she was ready.

"Are you ready to go?" Sergio asked as he cracked Elise's door open and peeked inside.

His eyes focused on her and what she was wearing. She was beautiful. He looked at her tight black leather mini skirt which barely covered her crotch. Her thigh-high black heeled boots added another six inches to her height; she resembled a dominatrix. To add to that effect was a black leather bra, covered by a black, sheer nylon shirt with the same color satin collar and cuffs.

At first glance, Sergio wanted to slowly peel every piece of clothing off her body. He wanted to lay her down on the satin covers, kiss her all over and savor her scent. He found her intoxicating. Then it all came rushing back to him hitting him like a freight train. All of this, this complete ensemble, was picked by Elise to please Darian. Sergio wanted to know what Darian had that he didn't. He wanted to know his competition. He opened the door wider and leaned across the oak frame.

"Is all that for him?" he asked.

"What does it matter to you?" Elise answered defensively.

"What does it matter to me? Well, it should matter to you. Do you think he can love you as I do? As a matter of fact, do you think he loves you at all?"

Elise didn't want to answer that question. She didn't want to think about such a thing. Of course Darian loved her, he had helped her, helped all of them, and he made love to her. Better than anyone else ever had, of that she was certain. Sergio would just have to get over his jealousy. She'd chosen her lover and it was not up for discussion.

"I'm not going to stand here, Sergio, and play these games with you. You simply have to get over this jealousy you have toward Darian and my relationship with him. Now, you should direct your interest to the other females within the Pride. You need to settle with one of them, and stop this constant badgering. I grow tired of it!" Elise said, confident she would put an end to Sergio's protest of whom she chose to sleep with.

Sergio watched Elise closely. He could sense her apprehension. He believed she was aware she wasn't the apple of Darian's eye. He could not understand her obsession with him. Tonight, he would see for himself, firsthand, the two of them together. He wanted to see the manipulation in action. He wanted to be able to bring it up to her later, and say, 'See, I told you. He doesn't love you, but I do!' He wondered if even that would be enough to convince her just how serious he was. Only time would tell.

Chapter Five

Darian sat back comfortably in his black leather chair. He had turned the chair's temperature up to eighty-five degrees. He enjoyed the sensation of the heat over his skin. Not that he was cold; his skin would only be cold until he fed. Naturally, he liked heat inside his body and out. Heat was sensual, heat was sexy ... heat was lust. He read through the gambling profits he had made the week before from his hidden underground arena, "The Coliseum". It was the pride and joy of his club. It was hidden three stories underground. He charged the wealthy an outrageous amount of money to gain access to the arena, which didn't seem to bother them in the least bit. In fact, the obscene price for admittance into the Coliseum only attracted more attention from the powerfully wealthy. Rich, self-indulgent mortals would place tons of money on a chosen fighter in the twelve man, three-day tournament. These mortals shared Darian's bloodlust. Though he set the stage for the violence, they hungered for it more than he did. They never really cared about the fighter personally, only that he or she was strong and could fight.

Every week, Friday through Sunday, there would be a new elimination tournament held. One fighter would be pitted against another. For each match a fighter won, the prize of ten-thousand dollars was added to his or her purse. In the event that a fighter did not survive, which was often, the money they earned would be sent to the designated person stated in their contracts in the form of an insurance policy. On the third night, the last remaining fighters would face off in a three-way, every-person-for-themselves-battle. If he or she survived, they would receive five-million dollars and could live a nice life in the tropics. The real appeal of the arena was that the loser's fate was always at the mercy of the crowd.

Darian found it amusing that for all the preaching about kindness, compassion and good will toward your fellow man that the human race barked out, he very rarely witnessed a merciful audience. Darian believed that mortals were just as monstrous as the next being. His club proved his theory nightly. The hidden arena and bordello were both very profitable. His club was a place where both human and supernaturals could go to indulge in the pleasures of sins.

The idea to register the popular club as a supernatural owned business came to him one night as he watched the news. The anchorwoman was relating to the public all the crime that had taken place right after the Exposure. He watched the human race kill each other out of sheer panic.

It didn't surprise him. He knew that humans would automatically convince themselves that the supernaturals were of the purest evil and needed to be destroyed. What they failed to realize was that just about every supernatural creature that walked the earth used to be human. They still had human desires and goals, human ambition and lust, and above all, the desire to survive. He had witnessed, over the centuries of his long life, families torn apart out of greed. He'd seen spouses murdering each other for insurance money or the lust of a new lover. So Darian didn't see a line that separated supernatural evil from that of the human race. If humans considered them evil, it was because the supernaturals were higher on the food chain.

He waited impatiently for Annette Balfour to arrive. Just when he was about to buzz his secretary to find out if Annette had arrived, he heard the high-pitched beep from the telephone on his desk. He pressed the little, square, green button that allowed him to answer.

"Yes?" he asked then waited for the response.

"Mast Mr. Alexander, Annette Balfour has just arrived. Shall I send her in, sir?" Annabelle asked.

Darian smiled. He liked hearing his subordinates call him Master, but not when he was handling business in front of a mortal ... unless, of course, that mortal was the business at hand.

"Yes, please do so, Miss Baker."

Darian released the little green button and settled comfortably into his chair. When he heard the door open then close, he knew it was Annette. He could smell the blood underneath her skin and feel her pulse beating fast making her body heat rise. Ah yes, Darian loved the heat. Slowly, he turned his chair around to face her. He thought she was beautiful indeed. He could not understand why he had not met her personally before. He would have to have a small talk with Xavier.

He entrusted all of the hiring of the staff to Xavier. He knew Xavier would have the right eye for such beauty. He was sure that Xavier had already bedded Miss Balfour. If he had not, then it was his loss and Darian's gain. It was one of the aspects of their relationship Darian enjoyed most of all. They had to have an open sexual relationship. He would not have it any other way. Sex was one of Darian's favorite pastimes. He enjoyed the feeling of hot, sweaty bodies beneath him or behind him. Enjoyed the sensation of heat and ecstasy as it increased until it spilled over their bodies in that one final moment when time would freeze.

He gazed at her caramel colored skin, admiring the smoothness of it. He wanted to feel that smoothness with his fingertips. He liked her permed, straight hair, how it framed her slender oval shaped face. Her lips attracted him as well; he loved how full and luscious they were.

He was a lover of both men and women and cherished all of the individual qualities each offered. His mind raced to what he wanted to do with her before the night was out. A wicked smile spread across his lips, exposing his dimples, making him look both innocent and guilty.

He looked at her entire appearance, mentally calculating the quickest way to remove her clothing based on hooks, zippers, snaps, etc. She was dressed in a leopard print bra top and a black satin skirt with a leopard print hem and was wearing a pair of black heels. Darian admired the way the outfit enveloped her. It was no doubt an outfit designed for the game of seduction. And his club was the perfect place to wear such an ensemble. Desires Unleashed was exactly what the name stated, and that was what Darian wanted. Whether you had a lust for sex or blood, you could sate your hunger there.

"Miss Balfour, I've called you into my office tonight because I have some good news. You see, I've been going through my employee records and reviewing some of my best staff."

He looked in her direction and smiled. He rose from his chair and glided around the desk. All of his movements were as smooth as satin. His body never looked clumsy, never once. He leaned against the corner of his desk in front of Annette. He held her open file in his hand as he looked down at her over the edge of the file and smiled. His eyes sparkled as his smile warmed her. He slid halfway onto the corner of his desk and pretended to look over her information. He had already memorized her file before she came into his office, but now, he was keeping up appearances.

"It says here that you've never been late and only absent one time since you started working here."

He paused and leaned in closer to her.

"Most impressive," he whispered seductively.

His forest-green eyes peered into the chocolate brown of hers. She felt his aura pelting her, making a heat rise from between her legs. She fought the urge to squirm in her seat. She could smell his cologne, as if he needed any. She was willing to bet he was just as good in bed as he looked and that was saying a lot. She found herself imagining what his strong hands would feel like caressing her skin. She wanted to feel the heat of his mouth on her, and the weight of his body against hers. She had the desire to press her hand to her chest, and, in an exaggerated southern belle accent, say 'Why sir, I'm just a southern belle and we southern gals don't do things like- ooooohh, Oh My!' She mentally shook her head. She wanted to focus on what he was saying to her, even though it was proving to be more difficult with each passing second.

"Did you hear what I said?" Darian asked, humor hidden in his smile.

He knew damn well she had not heard a word he'd said; it was just how he planned it. She didn't need to hear what he was saying. She only needed to know that he was paying her attention, that she had his favor for the evening. She should be so blessed.

"Oh, yeah ... Um ...,"

She took a deep breath and let it out. This was bad.

"No. I'm sorry. I didn't catch the ... Um ... last thing you said."

She was hoping he would not think badly of her. Nothing was worse than being condemned as an airhead. Well, there were worse things, but at this point airhead was the one she was worried about. He had obviously called her into his luxurious office for a reason. From the rumors she heard circulating around the club, no one got to see the owner's office unless they were getting fired or a special promotion. She was hoping it was the latter.

Darian's chuckle vibrated deep in his throat. He decided to cut to the chase.

"What I said was; congratulations, Miss Balfour. If you decide to take the job, you will be the new assistant day manager of Desires Unleashed. So what do you say; yea or nay?"

He gazed at her thrilled expression for a moment. Placing her file on his desk, he moved to kneel in front of her. Her breath was caught in her throat. It was true what she had heard about how beautiful the owner was supposed to be. She knew all of the vampires she saw on a nightly basis were obviously picked by another vampire for their lovely features.

Even though she'd had sexual thoughts about those vampires working at the club, something had always held her back. She continued to stare at Darian. She had never seen a man so gorgeous he left her speechless. Annette wanted to run her fingers through his long, black, flowing waves, wanted to see if his hair was as silky and soft as it looked. She wanted to trace her fingertips along his jaw line and feel the tight muscles there. She wanted to lean forward, take hold of his face and tilt it up to hers, look deeply into his forest green eyes and press her lips to the soft, warm flesh of his. Annette wanted to feel him inside her—she wanted all of him. She could feel a burning from deep inside of her, feeling it rush to her head like lava.

Darian smiled. He should be ashamed of himself, he thought. He couldn't help that he was born with a gift and what effect that gift had on others. Without waiting for her consent, he trailed his fingertips in a wavy motion up her calves, working his way slowly to her thighs. Never taking his gaze from hers, he caressed her thighs, massaging the firm flesh. Leaning forward, he parted her legs, kissing very softly along the inside of her thighs from one side to the other, working his way up. His hand slid under her skirt and found her lace thong panties. Taking hold of them, he slowly slid them down past her thighs and calves.

She raised her feet so Darian could pull the panties off. He tossed them on his desk, and began his tender kisses again on her inner thighs. He could smell the seductive scent of her passion rising and feel the heat pulsating from between her legs. He inched forward and blew a long, slow breath over her quivering labia. She felt her muscles constrict as his breath tickled her delicate, soft flesh. Darian's face inched closer until he heard Xavier's soft footsteps approaching. He withdrew as his door opened.

"Ahhh, I see you're interviewing the new assistant manager. Should I leave you alone to finish going over her ... Um ... credentials?" Xavier asked as he stood in the open doorway.

Darian frowned; agitated that Xavier had interrupted his sexual conquest.

"Give me a minute," he said to Xavier as he rose to his feet.

He settled his gaze on Annette. He didn't need to entrance her, he hadn't needed to entrance any of his lovers. He didn't like influencing people to have sex with him. He felt it was cheating. He was more than confident that he could have anyone he wanted with just a little charm, and as it turned out, he hadn't been mistaken.

"Annette, why don't I see you in my office at ... oh, let's say one o'clock?" he asked as he stroked her hair.

Annette struggled to remember something she had to do after work. Just when she was going to tell herself to forget about it, it came to her. "Oh, I can't! I'm meeting my friend after work. We're supposed to be celebrating her new job. Otherwise ..."

She rose from her seat and ran her hands down Darian's chest. She had wanted to do that the moment she first laid eyes on him. It was all she thought it would be and more. He was firm and muscular under the soft, thin fabric of his black shirt. She could feel his muscles tightening under her touch. It was then she decided that Darian was the epitome of a Greek God.

Darian was set back, but not too disappointed. He had all the time in the world to seduce this one.

"Very well, perhaps tomorrow night then?" he asked as he took her hand and led her to the door. "Oh, and by the way, did you want the position?"

Annette remembered that was the reason she was called into his office in the first place.

"Oh yeah! mean, yes. Most definitely. Thank you, sir," she said, pleased at her good fortune.

"Please, when we are alone like this, call me Darian."

Annette blushed. She hoped it didn't show. She nodded. Darian saw this as a perfect opportunity to steal a kiss and seal the deal. He leaned forward slowly and brushed his lips against hers. He could feel her lean into him, into his kiss. Ah, it was a thrill he felt often. It was a thrill he sought. He pulled back and opened the door for her. Annette smiled and walked out of the office. Darian watched Annette swish down the hallway and smiled. He knew she was putting an extra little sway to her hips for his benefit and he was pleased. His gaze shifted to Xavier. He walked away, leaving the door open for Xavier to close when he entered the room.

"So you weren't going to share with me, were you?" Xavier teased, leaning against the door frame.

"I was trying to get a taste test. So why was I interrupted?" Darian asked raising an eyebrow as he leaned against his desk, arms folded across his chest.

"Anthony's here, shall I bring him in?"

Darian smiled in anticipation. "Yes."

Xavier beckoned John inside the office. John had Anthony in his grip. The front of Anthony's white t-shirt was spotted with blood and his blue jeans were so faded, they looked to have been several years old. Anthony's hands were tied behind him. A black silk bag covered his entire head. Anthony stumbled into the room. John pressed hard on his shoulders, forcing him to his knees.

"Anthony, so nice of you to join us tonight," Darian said as he walked toward the kneeling man.

He snatched off the black bag, peering into Anthony's eyes. Darian ran his fingers through the other man's hair, grabbed a handful of the blonde locks and yanked his head upward, bringing Anthony's gaze to meet his. Anthony cried out at the pain shooting across his scalp as his hair was wrenched in Darian's powerful grip.

"Anthony, Anthony, Anthony, tonight just isn't your night, is it?" Darian asked as he ran a finger along Anthony's bloody lip.

He raised his finger to his mouth and slowly sucked the blood away. His gaze drifted toward Xavier, who was already under the bloodlust. Xavier had not yet fed. He had been waiting patiently for Anthony's arrival. The smell of Anthony's blood in the air was making the wait unbearable. Xavier could taste the blood on his tongue and desperately wanted the real thing. He had control but it was weaker when he was under the Thirst.

"You should never have betrayed me, Anthony," Darian said as he beckoned Xavier to come closer. "I don't know what made you decide to steal from me and I don't care. Just know it was your last mistake."

The horrifying truth finally dawned on Anthony. His death was inevitable. He mentally cursed himself for not booking town. He should have never tried to wait for her. He should have hightailed it out of the city on the fastest plane to Timbuktu. He should have never opened the door. He should have known they'd come for him. Now he was going to die. A spark in his brain told him to try to escape.

"No!" Anthony screamed and tried to rise up from the floor, but John's strong hands held him in an iron grip.

He couldn't move an inch, not even to struggle. He watched in horror as Xavier stood in front of him, then knelt down. He cringed when Xavier caressed his face, softly with both hands. Tears rolled down his cheeks. Xavier leaned forward and caught a teardrop on his tongue, savoring his fear. A low groan rumbled through Xavier's chest that was a mingling of pure hunger and lust.

"Shhhh, quiet. You'll die tonight, but you die as the chosen. Fear not, you are lucky to die by a vampire's kiss," he whispered into Anthony's ear, repeating his most clichéd vampire quote.

He began enforcing his silent command-coaxing Anthony to remain calm. Once Xavier felt the other man's muscles relax, he leaned closer to the pulsating artery underneath the smooth, soft skin of Anthony's neck. Xavier's mouth opened, fangs extending for the feeding. Anthony gasped, his back arching as Xavier's fangs broke through his skin. Xavier began to feed; audible sucking noises filled the room, adding to the sexual atmosphere. Low moans were coming from the two men, both enwrapped in pleasure, sharing this special union. Darian watched closely. He enjoyed watching the "vampire's kiss" in motion. He delighted in watching other people enjoying pleasure in all forms, even if it was their last time.

Anthony let out a long shivering moan. His body twitched once, then twice, falling limp as Xavier continued to feed, draining the body completely. He savored the warm, delicious, thick fluid as it filled his mouth, flowing down his throat. He could not, would not give this sensation up for anything in the world. He tilted his head slightly, widening his mouth to capture more of the blood that warmed him. It excited him; he could feel the warmth spread throughout his limbs. His body tingled as though little electric shocks where bursting over him. He had grown hard during the feeding, as all vampires did, and he felt his passions rise to the crest.

Xavier was disappointed when the blood stopped flowing as he was enjoying his feast. He pulled away, letting Anthony's corpse slip from his hands. The world seemed to disappear as he relished the sensation the blood was giving him. He sat there, head leaned back, eyes closed, full-shaped lips slightly parted as he ran his hands down the length of his torso, past his stomach, to caress his aching groin. His body twitched as he massaged his penis relieving some of the pressure. Darian smiled, waving John out of his office. John nodded and scooped up Anthony's corpse, throwing the body over his shoulder before exiting the room.

Darian walked up to Xavier, peered into his gray eyes and smiled. He squatted beside his lover, arms encircling the other man's chest. He held him against his torso with one arm, while his right hand slid up Xavier's chest to caress his throat. He grabbed Xavier's chin, held his face up to his. Darian's tongue darted out licking the spilt blood from Xavier's lips. Their tongues met in a passionate kiss. A low groan escaped from Xavier as Darian began to caress him. He slid a hand inside his shirt, fingers seeking the firm nipples and gently rolled the delicate flesh between his fingertips, sending shivers through Xavier's body. Darian's other hand slid further down to caress Xavier's crotch, massaging the hardness through the denim material. Ragged, panting moans filled the room as Xavier began to feel his climax. All sensations stopped when Darian released him and rose from the floor.

Confused and disappointed, Xavier looked up, a questioning look on his face. "Why stop?"

Smiling wickedly, Darian leaned close to Xavier's ear and whispered. "An eye for an eye, my beautiful inamorato. Tomorrow night, we'll share each other's passions, but not until then."

He walked out of the room, leaving Xavier completely unsatisfied.

Payback can sure be a bitch. Xavier thought as he remembered interrupting Darian's seduction of Annette earlier.

Chapter Six

"Hello? Who's calling?" Xander greeted the caller on the other end of the line, his deep British accent was smooth and crisp.

"Xander, this is Warren. I just got this new case and I think you'll want to see these pictures from the crime scene. It's some sick shit, let me tell you. Right now, I've never seen anything like it before ..." He paused, "... I know you'll want to see this; I'm in my car now. I'll be at your place in about ... let's say, ten minutes."

Xander could hear the worry in Warren's voice and wondered what could have happened that would have him so upset.

"Very well. I'll be waiting for you when you arrive. It will be good to see you after all of these months. The Family will be overjoyed to see you again, especially Adrian," he said with a smile. "I'll see you soon."

He hung up the telephone and sat back in his recliner. Enjoying the comforts of the mortal world was one thing he couldn't deny.

He smiled again at the thought of Warren and Adrian seeing each other after all this time. It always made for a lively atmosphere, if nothing else. The last time Warren was home, Adrian was away on vacation. Adrian had been most upset when he learned that he'd missed the opportunity to see Warren again. Though the two were the best of friends and had grown up together, they had managed to become lovers, in spite of their differences. Xander didn't oppose that at all. Adrian was his son, while Warren had been raised by him. He didn't mind them experimenting with their relationship. However, he didn't believe that their romantic relationship would stand the test of time.

It was apparent that both men were very dominant, although Adrian had always been the more dominant between the two. They broke up for the second time ten months ago. Adrian never stopped trying to get Warren back. This night would prove to be an interesting one.

Xander sipped his tea as he turned the page of his geographic magazine. He was becoming most fascinated with the various cultures of the different tribes in Africa. He thought it would be interesting, as well as entertaining, to take a return trip to Africa; perhaps for a second honeymoon. He had been there once, a long time ago, but at that time, he had been romancing his now current wife.

She had been a volunteer with the Peace Around The World organization, who were there to feed the hungry. He had been on safari and had come upon their camp. Their scents attracted each other. She had been in heat, her aroma as strong and intoxicating as the scent of blood. It called to him, as his scent did to her. They made love that night, they talked about their lives, and they fell in love. They were married after a year of dating, or, as it was called inside the Pack, mating.

His wife came into the room. She stood five-feet-nine inches, with a slender frame. Her smooth, milk chocolate skin glowed in the lamplight. She wore her long, dark brown hair braided in cornrows flowing down her back. Her full, luscious lips parted in a smile as she looked lovingly at her husband. Her light brown eyes danced with excitement at the very sight of him. She loved looking at his broad muscular shoulders. Her heart skipped beats as he gazed at her with his stunning silver eyes. She wanted to run her fingers through his waist-length brown hair.

"Hi darling, dinner is almost done. Are you going to eat in here or in the dining room with the rest of us?" she joked.

Xander smiled, closed his magazine and rose from the chair. He covered the distance between them in only a few quick strides then held his lovely wife in his warm embrace. He smiled at her, leaned forward and kissed her soft lips. He nuzzled his nose to hers so that she smiled and giggled. His hands caressed her lower back as he squeezed her tighter, almost as if he didn't want to let her go.

"I'll eat in the dining room with everyone else," he whispered in her ear. "And darling, we have a guest tonight. Our headstrong young one returns after his hiatus. He has a case that he wants me to look into."

His wife leaned back, looking at him. "Am I to understand that Warren is coming home tonight?" she asked, a look of humor played on her face. She was well aware that this night was going to be a long one.

Xander nodded. "He seemed pretty upset about his case. There must be a shape-shifter involved. I will need to see for myself if it's something I think I may be able to handle. But for now, I'll let you go and finish dinner."

He released her reluctantly. She smiled and headed toward the heavy oak-carved double doors, then stopped. She turned to face her husband.

"Xander?"

"Yes, Tatiana?"

"Please don't let Adrian get out of hand tonight. We both know how our son can behave when he is around Warren."

Xander nodded with a chuckle, "I'll try."

He couldn't promise that their son wouldn't act out. Adrian had been headstrong and cocksure since he was a young boy. When Xander first accepted Warren into his home, Adrian didn't like the new male near his own age taking away some of his father's attention. He didn't like the fact that Warren was scared and sad and always, always had someone comforting him. It wasn't until his father sat him down and told him he should help, he could have a friend in Warren if only he were nicer to him. Adrian didn't believe that he was lonely enough to want a friend, let alone "Warren the Whiner". He had been wrong. They had become the best of friends. Later, as the years passed, they had become the worst of lovers.

The two fought constantly about who was the aggressor in their relationship. Neither man wanted to claim the more submissive role nor could they share the dominant one. Adrian always felt that since he pursued Warren first, and that he was one year older and stronger, then he should no doubt hold the title. However, Warren saw things differently. Since the arguments about who should be on the top never seemed to end, Warren could no longer endure Adrian's controlling personality and so he decided to end the relationship which wasn't easy for him. Adrian was his addiction that he always seemed to succumb to. That's why he had moved into his own home, hoping the separation would do them both some good. Adrian, however, never agreed to the termination of the relationship. As far as he was concerned they were still dating, only on hiatus.

Xander made his way to the grand dining room. A long redwood table sat in the middle of the room that could seat up to twenty. The table's surface was polished to perfection and reflected the rainbow spectrum from the four crystal chandeliers that hung overhead. The floor was covered with a plush burgundy carpet that Xander made sure remained spotless.

Xander had always enjoyed art, and it showed throughout his home. He had purchased priceless artworks from several famous artists, and some not so famous. He enjoyed the self-expression the art projected. It was like delving into the artist's soul, seeing the passion that may have been hidden otherwise.

The sound of the doorbell chiming let him know that Warren had arrived. He walked through his tastefully decorated mansion toward the entrance. Before he opened the door, he inspected the burgundy and gold embroidered upholstery covering the sofa in the parlor. It was spotless and looked brand new. He didn't allow anyone to abuse his furniture.

Once, in a rage, Adrian had thrown one of his thousand dollar chairs across the room, splintering it. Xander had made him pay for it, dearly. He loved the feel of the thick burgundy carpet under his feet. On some rare nights when he was alone, he would trace the pattern of the carpet with his bare toes, smiling to himself at the simplicity of it all and marveling at the hand-stitched designs. He also purchased hand sewn rugs; "artwork for the floor" he once called it. Some rugs he considered too beautiful for the floor; those were hung on walls. Reaching the front door, he could smell Warren's scent already from the other side of the door. He could hear him breathing. He smiled as he opened the door.

"Warren, how good to see you again. Come in." He watched Warren enter the house. "Where is your key?" he asked curiously with a slight frown.

"I lost it about three weeks ago. I'll need another one." He tilted his head upwards, his nostrils flaring as he smelled the air. "Is dinner ready?" he asked almost excitedly.

Xander chuckled.

He nodded. "Yes, dinner's almost ready. Come; let us go into the dining room. Everyone will be so happy to see you. You really shouldn't stay away from the Pack this long."

"It's only been a month," Warren said.

"Exactly" Xander placed his arm around Warren's shoulders, leading him into the dining room which was already filling up as hungry wolves smelled dinner. They all looked up, recognizing Warren's scent as he entered the room, pleased to see him.

"Hey Warren! Welcome back, man," A tall slender man with pale skin, in a red t-shirt and black jeans said as he made his way around the table to greet Warren personally with a big bear hug.

He was followed by ten other people all gathering around to hug their Pack brother. They all wished he would stay home, or at least visit more than he did, but they all had their ideas of why he didn't. Some of those ideas included Xander's strict rules, and Adrian's lust.

"How's everyone?" Warren asked, obviously happy to see his Pack and to know that they were all doing fine.

"Everyone's well, Warren, real well. Why don't you visit more often, you bum! You know how much everyone misses you, you jerk," Nicole said, wearing a hot pink halter top and white Capri pants. They were so tight Warren doubted if she could even stick her finger in the back pocket.

"You know, it's only been a month. But I'll try to visit more often. You know this job keeps me pretty busy sometimes," Warren said, shrugging.

"I can keep you even busier," said a rich, deep voice from across the room.

Warren looked up to see Adrian enter the dining room, carrying a huge platter. His mother and Matron of the house, Tatiana, followed behind him with a large bowl of vegetables. Warren had hoped that Adrian was still at school, teaching and working on his doctorate in English Literature. He would have preferred to avoid this reunion. Adrian was always difficult for him to resist. This was going to be a long night.

"All the more reason why I visit when I can afford to visit," Warren said smugly.

Adrian smiled; he knew what Warren meant and was banking on it. He wanted Warren there, with them, as it was supposed to be. Not frolicking around with the government-funded police, turning in his own kind to the human firing squad.

"We'll have to work on that then, won't we." It was more of a statement than a question.

Adrian left the room to gather more food from the kitchen. Warren sat down in the seat to the left of Xander. He leaned closer to whisper something to his Pack alpha. He knew everyone in the room would hear anyway, but only Xander would know what he was talking about. He opened his mouth to speak, but Xander raised his hand, shaking his head slightly.

"Tell me later," he said.

Warren nodded. Adrian returned, carrying another heavy platter filled with slices of roast beef. He leaned in front of Warren to place the platter on the table, making sure his crotch brushed against Warren's elbow, causing him to tense slightly.

"For the guest of honor," Adrian said as he leaned closer to Warren's ear. "I have your dessert if you still have room for it ... I'm sure you will." He stood up, smiling widely, walking back into the kitchen for more of the food.

A few of the other Pack members chuckled, batting their eyes at Warren teasingly, which he hated. After about three more trips to and from the kitchen, the table was covered with platter upon platter of delicious smelling foods. Everyone was seated at the table. Fifteen hungry wolves reached out for slices and chunks of the pork and beef roasts. Platters of slow roasted Cornish hens, tender sliced roast turkey cutlets, smothered in gravy were passed around the table. Two people argued over the bowl of mashed potatoes with homemade gravy as others passed the bowls of fresh string beans, broccoli and cauliflower amongst them. Sounds of metal scraping glass echoed in the room as forks and knives scooped up portions of food. This was followed by sounds of finger sucking, lips smacking, moaning, and thirsty swallows. Someone burped loudly and others laughed at the table. Xander frowned. He was well aware of the nature of wolves, although he did appreciate at least the minimal amount of table manners. After a stern look from the Pack alpha, the laughter subsided.

After dinner, Xander and Warren went to Xander's soundproof study for privacy. Xander had settled comfortably into a high-backed leather chair. He leaned over and opened a box filled with Cuban cigars, offering one to Warren who politely waved it away. Nodding, he sat back in the chair, lit his cigar and gestured for Warren to go ahead and speak.

"Well, I know how you wanted me to inform you whenever we get a case that may involve a shape-shifter," Warren said as he settled into the seat opposite Xander's.

"And you think one is involved?" he asked.

Warren nodded and handed him a file containing several photographs.

"Those were taken today, this morning actually. The body was discovered around nine A.M. There were no witnesses, just the poor schmuck who had the misfortune to have discovered the body."

He watched Xander flip through the photos, one after another. He looked at the frown that formed on his face and knew that Xander was thinking the same thing he had when he first saw the condition of the corpse.

"Do you think a werewolf did that, one of us? Whoever did it, I think they enjoyed it," Warren said when he thought Xander had taken in enough of the photos to catch his meaning.

"Please do not refer to our kind with that ridiculous human terminology. And yes, I think you may be right. But where's the blood? To have his head ripped off there should be blood all over this area," Xander asked, looking through the pictures again to see if he had missed anything.

"Yes, you're right. The body was missing most of its blood. That's what makes me think a vampire might also be involved. But I'm not sure, see. I know that a vampire is strong enough to rip off a human's head, but I caught the scent of a shape-shifter in the area, a wolf. It was faint but it was enough. I don't think the body was killed there, I think it was deposited there. And I don't mean dragged either. The killer had to have driven to that spot and dumped the body to throw off the scent trail. Someone was doing their homework."

"If there is a shifter involved then why is the body not mangled? Surely a shifter would want to feast? This scent you caught, was it on the body as well?" Xander asked, trying to make heads or tails of all that he was taking in.

Warren sat back in the chair, chin resting on his hand as he traced back in his mind to the scene of the crime.

"No, just in the area, but close to where the body was dumped. And that's the thing that bothers me. I couldn't identify any other scent on the body, except for blood. There wasn't even another scent on the man's clothes. It was like whoever committed this murder, did this before and they are skilled enough to not leave evidence. I have no way of knowing if that scent I caught was from the murderer or just a wolf that was walking down the alley that night."

Warren seemed bewildered. He was getting a bad feeling about this case—call it intuition. The last thing he wanted was a supernatural serial killer. It was bad enough when a human decided to become the next Fred Bundy. It's even worse when you have a supernatural psycho on the prowl.

"Take me to the scene of the crime, I want to get a whiff of this scent. I may pick up something you did not," Xander said as he rose from his chair.

Warren followed suit and both men headed for the door. Warren opened the door only to find Adrian on the other side, hand poised to knock. Adrian smiled, catching Warren in his embrace kissing him lustfully. Xander smiled, rolled his eyes then walked past the two men. Warren pushed Adrian away, glowering at him. They were breathing heavily. Both of them were remembering the sensation of each other's bodies merging together all too clearly.

"We're not together anymore, Adrian. Remember?" Warren insisted, as he tried to leave.

Adrian's arm blocked his exit, keeping him in the room.

"No, what I remember is going off to college to teach for a semester and to get my degree, then coming home to find out that you had joined that fucking government police squad. By the way, it was real fucked up for you to keep that a secret from me for that long. What the fuck for, I don't know, but that's what I remember. As far as I'm concerned, you're still my lover. Besides, who knows you better than I do?"

Adrian smiled his wolfish grin. Then he pushed Warren back into the room, closing the door behind him. He pounced on top of Warren, knocking him down and holding his hands down against the carpeted floor. Pressing his hips into the other man's, he slowly started grinding their crotches together.

Warren pressed up and moaned, he could feel himself growing harder under the other man's erection. He closed his eyes and savored the sensation of Adrian's body against his. Adrian's soft lips locked with his in another passionate kiss. He opened his eyes and gazed into Adrian's silver eyes. It was one of the better features he shared with his father and staring into those eyes always made Warren want to get kinky, fast. Although, getting kinky fast was not what he wanted to do, not now, not with Adrian. He came back to his senses, bucking and pumping under Adrian, trying to throw the other man off.

"Adrian, get off of me, now! Don't do this, I broke up with you months ago," he said, becoming angrier the longer the other man held him down. "Face it; we just can't make it work."

"I like when you play hard to get. Keep fighting me, I'm almost there," Adrian panted breathlessly through clenched teeth.

Warren stopped fighting long enough to see the pleasure spread across Adrian's face. He realized the other man was enjoying his struggles a little too much. This angered him even more. He wanted Adrian off of him and fast. He continued to struggle, growing even more annoyed that the other shifter was slightly stronger than he was. He couldn't help but get aroused himself feeling Adrian's hardness grinding against his own. He saw Adrian's mouth open wide, his breath coming faster and faster until it stuck in his throat. He saw Adrian's eyes close, a look of sheer ecstasy wash over his face as his body tensed and jerked several times.

After what seemed like forever, Adrian collapsed on top of Warren, breathless, spent. His grip lessened on Warren's wrists. Warren sat up pushing Adrian off of him onto his side. A huge wet spot stained the front of Adrian's pants. Warren punched him hard in the left arm forcing him to cry out.

"Ow! Man, what was that for?" Adrian asked, laughing as he rubbed the pained spot on his upper bicep.

He rose to his knees in front of Warren.

"What was it for?! Do you even have to ask?" Warren asked, annoyed. "You know what, Adrian; sometimes you can be a complete asshole. And you wonder why I broke it off with you," he said as he looked down to see the wet stain on the front of his own jeans. "Look what you did, you asshole," he said as he smacked Adrian on the side of his temple.

"Ow!" Adrian yelped as he fell back onto his side, laughing.

"On top of that, you're a selfish bastard, just caring about your own pleasure," Warren added, annoyed that he was left unsatisfied.

"I could take care of that," Adrian offered his services as he pawed Warren crotch.

Warren slapped his hand away.

"Don't touch me."

Adrian chuckled as he knew his Pack brother could never hold a grudge against or resist him. He knew Warren was happy to see him, even if he didn't want to show it.

"Oh, don't be this way, Warren. You know you're happy to see me. We belong together. We were meant to be together since day one. Come on, let' s go back into my room and fuck for real," he said as he managed to crawl onto all fours in front of Warren, who just shook his head and rose to leave the study. "Where are you going?"

"I'd love to beat the shit out of you right this moment, but your father and I have something important to do. And I know you can't possibly figure out what could be more important than your raging libido, but I have business to take care of," Warren said as he closed the door to the study.

He was relieved to be out of the same room with Adrian. If he had been in that room one minute longer, he may have done a thing or two he would regret in the morning. He was more than happy to drive Xander to the scene of the crime after that little evil trick Adrian just pulled. He met Xander by his car, noticing it was a brand new automobile, one of those two-hundred thousand dollar numbers. He hoped Xander didn't want to drive that to the scene of the crime.

"Please tell me this isn't the car we're taking. We won't get past the city limits," he said, chuckling to himself.

He pictured Xander and himself getting car-jacked. He stopped chuckling when his vision played the reality that Xander would probably kill the would-be car-jacker, without the slightest hesitation. He shook his head to clear the thought, smiling at his Alpha.

"Well, it happens to be my favorite car at the moment. The drive is always smooth, even on some bumpy streets. But, if you insist on us taking a less luxurious form of transportation, then I guess I'll have to settle for the BWMX," Xander said as he walked toward a silver two door BWMX E52 Z8 Roadster.

Warren laughed outright.

"You call this toning down?" He had tears coming from his eyes.

Xander looked at the BWMX E52 Z8, then back at his Ashton Martin and smiled.

"Yes, I do. Now are you going to stand there laughing like an idiot, or are we going to investigate this crime?" he asked as he opened the car door, climbing inside.

Warren nodded and climbed into the passenger seat. He did have to admit, it was lovely to be rich. He knew Xander would provide him with just about anything. But he wanted to earn his own living. He gave directions to Xander as he played with the state-of-the-art sound system. He fished through Xander's CD collection of opera and classical music, frowning.

"Don't you ever listen to anything where the composer's still alive and it's not in French or Italian?" he asked as he placed a CD in the six count CD changer.

Xander smiled. "I'm sorry, I left the Wu Lang CD at home," he said, cutting the curves in the road as if the car was on rails.

Warren laughed. "Who's Wu Lang?"

"Some rap group that Kevin listens to constantly. He loves this song called 'Big Baby Balls'. " He held up his right hand to stop Warren from speaking, "Don't ask me. It's by someone from the group called−and get this—Old Fat Bastard ... kids these days, no taste."

Chuckling, they headed toward the city limits.

"Okay, just make a right at the light here and pull into the alley. Can't miss it, look for the police tape," Warren said as he directed Xander toward the crime scene.

Xander pulled behind a parked black Cobra, a sleek black sports car that Warren had wanted. Getting out of the car, they walked toward the yellow and black police tape plastered between the wall of a bakery and the wall of the travel agency. They walked under the tape and immediately, Xander caught the scent that Warren had smelled earlier. He also smelled the scent of the body that was there earlier as well.

"I smell it also, but this scent," he inhaled deeply through his nose to get a better whiff, "this scent, I do not recognize."

He walked down the alley following the trail of the scent, but it stopped at the end of the liquor store. Xander retraced his steps to Warren.

"I don't smell any blood with the scent. It's likely that it might just be a stray wolf. You know, this might be the work of some deranged humanist group."

"How could a human do all this? You saw the pictures, how could a human do that?" Warren asked. He wasn't so sure about Xander's new take on things, but wasn't quite willing to cast it aside either.

"Simple, but first let's get out of this rancid alley. My senses are picking up scents I'd rather not smell," Xander said.

Warren nodded in agreement, and they headed for the car. They climbed inside and Xander began explaining his theory.

"Think about it. People would love to prove just how dangerous the supernatural race is to them. This could be an elaborate set up, you know, like one of these radical groups that consist of morbid humans who have nothing better to do than kill our kind. Well, thanks to the new law, they can't do that so easily anymore. However, that doesn't mean it won't stop them from trying. The government is still in debate over how many bills to add or take away concerning our co-existing with the humans. A murder like this one, done in such a brutal fashion would not look good for us."

Xander merged the car with traffic on I-90 heading northbound.

Warren pondered the whole scenario. He had never thought that a radical humanist group would do such a ghastly thing just to make supernaturals look bad. But then the longer he thought about it, the more sense it made.

"Understand, humans have always believed that life has a price. For them, life is expendable. If they thought that doing this sick crime would push vote 287 in their favor, what's one more dead man sacrificed for the cause?" Xander enlightened.

Warren nodded. His alpha may be right.

"It makes perfect sense. Unfortunately, it's going to be a bitch to prove and even harder to convince the government to see that it's possible that a humanist group did this," Warren said as he stared out the window, wondering how he was going to present this new theory to his partner.

"People always want to think the worst of everything and everyone, Warren. That's what humans do. It makes all their evil seem less evil if there's someone out there they believe is worse than they are. So that they can say 'at least I don't do that.' I've seen it time and time again. All I'm saying is, don't rule out humans and what they'll do for what they believe in," Xander said as he entered the I-55 expressway heading toward the western suburbs, going back home.

He glanced over at Warren and decided to lighten the mood.

"I noticed earlier that you and my son got reacquainted, rather ... personally. I take it you'll be staying the night ... No, no, I insist that you stay the night. Go back to work in the morning, but spend the night with us, your family, for a change," Xander said.

Warren blushed with embarrassment when he realized what the other man meant when he said 'reacquainted'. He had forgotten about the wet spot on his jeans, thanks to Adrian's spent passions. He frowned when he thought about it.

"I'll stay tonight, but not for Adrian," he said.

They discussed other topics as they drove on.

Chapter Seven

Natasha woke up, her eyelids heavy as sleep slipped away from her body. She sat up in bed, holding the sheets close to her chest. She wiped her eyes and looked at the little digital clock on the nightstand beside the bed. The little red numbers were glowing 11:35 P.M.

"Shit!" she exclaimed.

As she climbed out of the bed, her foot became entangled in the sheets, causing her to fall and banging her knee on the floor. All the air left her body and her knee ached.

"Damn it! Ain't a damn thing funny about hitting this bone," she groaned as she inspected the damage.

A tiny reddish mark was already appearing on her skin that was sensitive to the touch.

"Great. Just great, this will not interrupt my dancing. Our celebration is on tonight." she said, pumping herself up for the celebration she wanted to share with her friend.

She had to get ready right away or she'd be late. She hated being late. Especially since she loathed waiting on anyone else. She took a quick shower, using her favorite body products from Anisi Bath and Beauty. Her body felt soft and smooth as she ran her hands over the finished product of her grooming. She smiled, getting more excited about the night's future events as the minutes passed.

She went to her closet to retrieve the outfit she'd bought earlier. She removed the tags, slipped on the white denim halter top and tied the bow behind her neck. The halter top had been the most daring article of clothing she had worn since her weight loss. She felt a little more confident wearing the top with the peek-a-boo belly cut. After slipping on the matching denim mini that had the audacity to have two splits up the sides, she slid on a pair of white, knee length go-go boots with the three inch heels. Normally two inches was more than enough height for her taste, but tonight, she was pulling out all the stops.

She removed the rollers from her hair, pinning her locks up into an intricate style leaving some spiral curls flowing down over her smooth shoulders. She took the little hand-held razor and trimmed her eyebrows slightly. Her eyebrows were naturally thick, arched and beautiful, just needing a little more definition to them. Applying her make-up, she enjoyed the smoky-eyed look. Since she was going to a dance club, she thought it was appropriate. Natasha gave herself one last inspection, smiled and headed to the kitchen to grab something to eat before walking out of the door to catch a cab.

"Taxi!" she yelled and a yellow and black cab screeched to a stop.

She carefully walked to the cab and slid inside. She took one glance at the driver then looked for his license. Once satisfied he was legitimate, she told him the name of the club she was seeking.

"The Slayer's Lair, please."

Giving him the address, she settled back against the leather seat. She loved the smell of the cab's interior, pleased to know that the cab was kept clean. She had smelled some unsavory cabs in the past which made for an uncomfortable ride. She watched the city's scenery from the window as the cab sped through the nighttime streets. If she wasn't so worried about his meter, she would have asked him to slow down. She watched the nighttime crowds doing their weekly or nightly rituals, seeking a place to party. She looked at the skyscrapers that Chicago was famous for. The architectural paradise that land-marked the city was sprinkled in golden lights from thousands of windows throughout each sculptured building.

She checked her watch; the time was 1:13 AM.

"Shit, I'm already late. There. There it is, right there."

She pointed to a large two-story building that vibrated with the pounding sound of techno beats. The strobe lights attached to the outside walls flashed their bright lights on the dozens of excited patrons who were waiting to get inside.

"You can let me out right here," Natasha said as she fished through her little white denim purse for the twenty-five dollars to pay and tip the cabby. "Here you go and thank you."

She handed him the bills and climbed out. Her eyes scanned the crowd, looking for her friend. She expected her to be waiting outside the club. She stared into the crowd for five minutes before spotting Annette. The building had polished metal walls that reflected objects like a mirror. Natasha wondered if the inside was similar. The main entrance was protected by an ultraviolet door frame, beaming light on all patrons who entered, to keep out vampires. The bouncers stamped the hands of everyone who entered with a sterling silver stamp to ward off shape-shifters. If vampires were to attempt to enter the building, the ultraviolet lighting system would burn them, possibly killing very young vampires. In the instance of a shape-shifter having their hand stamped, their flesh would burn in reaction to the silver.

"Annette!" she called as she made her way over to her.

Annette turned around and waved frantically for her friend to join her. The two women faced each other and hugged. Natasha stepped back and opened her thick winter coat showing off her ensemble.

"Oh my God, girl, you look great! I told you, you would look good with some meat on your bones. Ooh, look at you, with your little belly hanging out and shit," Annette said as she poked Natasha's belly under the peek-a-boo shirt.

"Oh stop. If any more of my belly had been showing, I wouldn't be wearing this outfit. And let's get inside so that I can sit down. I've been standing in these damn boots for fifteen minutes and already I want to take them off. I hope I can survive the night," Natasha said, dancing from one foot to the other, trying to relieve the pain that threatened to settle into her feet.

"Okay, we're lucky my friend is working the door tonight. He'll let us in. We don't have to wait out here with the unfortunates," Annette said, grabbing Natasha's hand and leading her past the line to her bouncer friend.

"Hey, Randy, this is my girl, Natasha. Be nice to her if she comes here without me, I'd hate to have to kick your six-foot-four ass, got that?" Annette joked.

The tall white bouncer just chuckled as he uncrossed his massive muscular arms to unhook the velvet rope. "Before I letcha' in, whatcha' wearing?" he asked.

Annette smiled and opened her fur-lined trench coat. Natasha reopened her coat. He glanced at Natasha and nodded. Then he focused on Annette, really enjoying her silver rhinestone piece of cloth which resembled a handkerchief tied around her waist and neck with the matching mini skirt that barely covered anything.

"Okay, ya passed the dress code ... especially you." He pointed at Annette.

She flashed him a smile as wicked as it was lustful. Natasha shook her head. She didn't want to stand out there in the cold with her coat opened, freezing her ass off, while her harlot of a girlfriend and the mountain of a bouncer made goo-goo eyes at each other.

"Thanks, um ... Randy," Natasha said as she slid past the huge man, making her way into the warmth of the club.

She felt the soft heat from the protective door frame as she walked into the main area of the club. The interior matched the exterior, metal beams, steel columns and mirrored glass walls. Natasha thought it was kind of dark and sexy for a club. She also wondered if the mirrors were used to spot vampires, you know ... the whole no reflection myth.

"Natasha, wait for me! Damn, girl. Just forget about me," Annette said breathlessly as she caught up with Natasha at the coat checker's counter.

"Well, I thought you were busy and I was starting to get cold and what in the hell are you wearing?" Natasha asked as she took the ticket for her coat.

Annette looked down at her attire. She didn't see anything wrong with it.

"What? Girl, shit, I look good. Besides, it's more than I've worn all night. Oooohhh, oh my God, guess what?!" she asked excitedly, remembering her good fortune earlier that night, as if one could forget an encounter with Darian Alexander.

"What?" Natasha asked, excited because her friend was excited.

"Girl, as soon as I got to work tonight, I got called into the big boss' office, right. And I'm nervous as hell because I heard that if you get called into the boss' office, more than likely, your ass is getting fired. So I'm just on ten, right, and I go inside and mind you, I've never seen the boss, so I'm really nervous. But I go inside his office and girl, let me tell you! This man is GORGEOUS! Oh my God, you would not believe how gorgeous he is. I swear my mouth almost dropped to the floor when I saw him." Annette placed her hand over her heart.

Closing her eyes, she thought about the moment when her eyes first met Darian's, of his voice as he spoke to her, the silky feeling of his hands on her skin.

"What happened next? What does he look like?" Natasha asked, plainly interested in a good looking man.

"Well, he has long black hair, it's really wavy, shiny and smooth. And it flows past his shoulders, almost to his ass. He has the most beautiful green eyes I've ever seen. They're like dark green or something, like emeralds or something like that. And his voice! His voice is so deep and smooth, like butter, baby! It felt like his voice was caressing me as he spoke. Oh! and his body. Girl, this man has a body out of this world." Annette was getting excited again just thinking about her boss and the last thing he said to her.

"I had no idea that butter was deep. I knew it was smooth, but I didn't know it was deep," Natasha joked.

"Shut up. You've got jokes, I see. Whatever, the man is H.O.T.," Annette retorted.

At her last job, she would have gladly kicked her boss' ass for propositioning her and for all the trouble he gave her and the other employees. But she loved working at this club and she welcomed Darian's advances even more. Tomorrow night was looking better and better. She could hardly wait.

"So, besides how fine he is, anything else happen tonight that's got you all excited?" Natasha asked, ready to stop beating around the bush.

Annette thought about telling Natasha that she had almost had sex with her boss but then decided against it. She assumed her friend would drag her into a lengthy debate about the ethics and possible consequences behind such "indulgence". She decided to move it along, minus the juicy details.

"Well, I got promoted to daytime assistant manager. I'll be making double what I get paid now and it's salary. I might still be able to strip on some days. Making all that extra money, I'll be able to get a new car," she said, pondering the situation.

"That's great! Well, it looks like we both have something to celebrate. I'm so happy for youfor us."

"You're damn right, I'm going to get scummy tonight and so are you. I demand it, then you can go back to being pretty and pristine all over again after tonight," Annette said as she ushered her friend toward the bar.

"I'll have a drink or two, but I have no intentions of getting 'scummy'. You got that, heathen?" Natasha joked.

"Yeah, yeah. We'll see when that music starts hitting you and that drink starts working. I want to see the wild woman unleashed."

The two women sat at the bar and ordered Long Island Iced Teas. They began to sip the drinks as they looked around for potential dancing partners. The club was packed. It was Friday night and it seemed like the whole world was unwinding at the Slayer's Lair nightclub. The multicolored neon lights blinked on and off throughout the club, adding excitement to the already charged atmosphere. The marble floor ended just where the huge dance area began. There were all sorts of vampire slayer memorabilia hanging from the walls, such as whips, crossbows, crosses and fake wooden stakes hanging from the ceiling. Framed photographs of world famous hunters, real and fake, hung on the walls. Hunters like Ivy Hawthorne, the famed female vampire slayer rumored to have killed thirty-two vampires before she met her death eight months ago shortly after arriving in Chicago.

There were a lot of men dressed in brightly colored clothes standing against the walls or leaning on the marble columns throughout the club. As always, or so it seemed to be like this at most dance clubs, the dance floor was mostly populated by seductively dressed women out to have a good time. A lot of them danced with each other. Natasha wasn't sure if the majority of the men standing by the walls simply liked to watch women dance with each other or if they just did not want to dance. If that was the case, then why come to a dance club to look like security?

The two women scoped out the club, sipping their drinks and chatting. Annette was working on her second Long Island Iced Tea while Natasha was still nursing her first. She was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol relatively fast, since the beverage she was drinking was a mixture of several different liquors. She thought it might have been wiser to have selected a more tame drink, maybe a Cooler or something. She didn't drink and she didn't want to feel drunk either. However, Natasha was starting to feel relaxed, almost floating. Annette jumped up from her chair, grabbing the first guy that walked by. She pressed her body against his, grinding against him. One thing was for certain, no one could accuse her of being shy.

He led her to the dance floor where he and his buddy sandwiched her between them as their hands groped her hips and back. They tried very carefully not to caress her butt and breasts, which is where their eyes were focusing as they danced with the spirited woman. Natasha wished she had Annette's confidence. She always thought that Annette could be the perfect poster girl for that company whose motto was, "Just Do It," for that is just what Annette did, if she wanted to. Natasha set her drink down on the bar top. She settled against the seat feeling bubbly. Annette would make fun of her if she knew that half a glass of alcohol had gotten her intoxicated or at the least, a bit tipsy. She didn't care. Like she'd said, she had no intentions of getting "scummy" and she was keeping that in mind. She didn't want to find out what a hangover felt like. Getting drunk was never that important, nor alluring.

"Do you want to dance?" a tall gentleman asked Natasha. He was handsome, about six-feet, two-inches, coffee colored complexion, dark brown eyes, and strong bone structure. She wouldn't mind dancing at this moment, especially with a handsome man like this.

"Sure, let's dance." She rose from her chair a little too quickly and had to catch herself by clinging to him.

"Whoa, are you okay? Can you handle yourself or do I have to carry you?" he joked, but behind the joke, he was serious.

"No, I just stood up too fast, I think, and these boots ain't cutting me any slack. I'll be okay." She smiled gaily.

She was definitely drunk. Apparently, she was more of a lightweight than she would have expected. There was no doubt about it now. She let him lead her to the dance floor. He wrapped his arms around her waist and they began to grind their bodies together to the beat of the music. The DJ had switched from disco beats to reggae. Natasha began to loosen up even more, letting the beat of the music guide her hips as she danced with the man. He smiled at her as she danced erotically to the island music, her hands coming up to caress her hair and trail down her waist. Her eyes closed as she turned around.

She looked over her shoulder as she felt his chest against her back. She had thoughts about going home with this man and having a one night's stand with him. It had been a long time since she'd had sex. Annette told her and even urged her to "get laid." She had said if she "got some, it might help get her out of her depression." She had scoffed at the notion at the time. Some people think sex is the answer to everything Natasha thought. Oh you got cancer, better get some sex, that'll knock that shit clean out your system. Yeah right.

She looked over to see Annette dancing with three men at one time. She knew Annette was probably the kind of girl some people used to hate in high-school, but secretly envied. Natasha was never one of those girls. She was well known enough not to be a victim of bullies, but never to be selected by the "in" crowd either, which had suited her just fine. Although, she wouldn't have mind being the object of a few guys affections in high school.

Annette, on the other hand, was the leader of the "in" crowd. She played the pipe and others followed. Natasha wondered if she had ever followed. Maybe she was following now. That would explain why she was drunk. The man she was dancing with looked toward Annette's group. He wanted to see the hot commodity and slowly started dancing over in that direction. Natasha became sober enough to become angry. He asked her to dance! How dare he abandon her on the damn dance floor! The night had just taken a turn for the worse.

Natasha stormed back to her seat and ordered another drink. She wanted to brood over all the men fawning over her friend. For some reason, when she received her drink, a little voice in her mind told her to chug it down. She did, immediately regretting it because the room tilted then straightened itself. Placing the glass gingerly on the bar top, she sat very still. She ordered a glass of water, deciding her night of drinking should end. She saw Annette walking toward her, sweaty and a trail of men behind her. All trying to buy her a drink, each hoping that she'd pick him for a rendezvous later that night or in the week.

"Bartender, I'll take another Long Island," Annette said as she looked to one guy to pay for her drink.

The guy gladly reached into his pocket, pulling out a ten dollar bill and handed it to the bartender, who gave him two dollars and fifty cents change. Annette smiled at the man as he drew closer, plainly claiming his spot as the dominant male who had won the young lady's heart or at the very least, her full attention. Natasha thought it was like watching some strange mating ritual on National Geographic. She watched Annette seduce the man by running her fingertips down the front of his shirt, then circling one of his buttons. He smiled and sat down in the chair next to hers, chatting in her ear. After a few seconds, Annette turned from him to look at Natasha.

"So Natasha, I saw you dancing with that cute guy. Are you having fun?" Annette asked, her southern accent slightly slurring due to the alcohol.

"No, I'm not. I think I had too much to drink, I don't feel so good right now, the room's spinning. I want to go home, Annette," Natasha said as she laid her head on the bar top.

Annette leaned over her friend and brushed some of her curls out of her face. "Yeah, you do look a little green. Please tell me you didn't take your medicine. Do you feel like you're going to puke?" she asked, concerned.

Natasha nodded her head slowly. "The room won't stop spinning and this damn music keeps pounding in my ears. But I didn't take my medicine tonight."

"Damn girl, you are a lightweight," Annette surmised.

"It would seem so," Natasha agreed.

"I'm sorry I asked your ass to drink with me tonight. I didn't think you'd get fucked up like this," she said as she noted her friend's damp, pale skin.

She turned to the man next to her telling him they needed to leave, that her friend wasn't feeling well right now. She finished her drink and rose from the bar stool. The man offered to take them home.

"Naw, that's okay. We'll catch a cab. I would hate for her to puke in your car. Look, let me get your number and we'll get together."

She headed toward the coat-room to get their coats. The man gave her his telephone number, offering once again to give them a ride home. Annette refused, but thanked him for his kindness. She also thought he was hoping that once he got her home, she'd invite him in. Not on this night. She walked back to her friend, who looked even worse now than she had a few minutes before. Annette really started to worry about Natasha. She believed Natasha never finished her Long Island. She assumed she had a full stomach, or at least she hoped Natasha had eaten something before coming to the club. If she hadn't, it would account for Natasha's sudden sickness.

After assisting Natasha with her coat and putting on her own, she slid her arm around her friend's waist, and led her out of the club. A drunken man bumped into the two women, causing Natasha to stumble, but Annette caught her. The man dropped his car keys and Natasha picked them up. The world appeared to spin and her hand felt numb, but she kept her feet on the ground. She looked at the man; who seem to be barely able to stand himself.

"I can't let you drive, you're drunk," she said, her words slightly slurred as she held the man's car keys in her hand.

"Give me my keys, bitch. I don't need anyone looking after me," he said, his speech heavily slurred.

He angered Natasha; drunk drivers always did. She felt that if a drunk driver caused an accident, they should be charged with attempted murder. If they killed someone, they should get the premeditated murder rap for certain. They should be made to face the death penalty. She thought that might help with toning down people like the man in front of her.

"No, I'm not giving your drunk ass these keys. Annette, take these to the bartender, I'll wait right here."

Natasha handed the keys to her friend, who took them with a look of concern. She wasn't so sure she wanted to leave Natasha in the same area with this man. She knew Natasha was doing the right thing.

"You wait here, I'll be right back," Annette said, disappearing into the club.

The angry drunk man followed, cursing Natasha as he disappeared inside. Annette returned shortly, "Jeez, what a jerk, I hate assholes that drink and drive," Annette said as she flagged down a cab.

Natasha couldn't agree more. They climbed into the cab and Annette gave the driver the directions. Natasha noted that the traffic was unusually heavy for that time of night before she drifted off to sleep.

They were several blocks from the club when Natasha had a vision of dropping her keys on the ground, then fumbling for them. Then the next vision she saw, she was driving. The lanes seem to fade in and out. She had her lights on and the lights from the passing cars were so bright, so blinding. She saw a yellow car in front of her, not moving. The lane seemed to go on forever then everything began to glow bright red. Her foot slammed on the brakes but not in enough time. She felt herself being propelled forward through the dashboard window then everything faded to blackness.

Natasha opened her eyes, unnerved by the dream. She looked up at the cab driver who seemed to be confused and horrified as he looked through his rear view mirror. She looked at the mirror and was blinded by bright lights. A second later, their cab was rear-ended and knocked off the road. The cab continued to fishtail until it hit a tree, knocking it over. The tree fell onto the cab, crushing the metal frame, pinning both Natasha and Annette inside. Both women were injured and knocked unconscious in the impact.

Chapter Eight

Darian walked down the dimly lit hallway until he reached a huge tapestry on the wall. He brushed the tapestry to the side to reveal a small sensor in the wall. He pressed his hand to the sensor screen. As the red light at the bottom of the sensor turned blue, a hidden door slid open exposing an elevator. Pulling a key out of his pocket, he stepped inside, inserting it into the slot on the elevator panel to start it downward. Three levels down, he exited and walked down another short L-shaped corridor to his private skybox overlooking an octagon-shaped arena. He settled into one of the four comfortable leather chairs facing the clear glass paneled wall. He looked around the arena to see that the soft cushioned seats were already full and everyone was anticipating the tournament. All the bets had been made. One could bet on a fighter per night, thus increasing their chances of winning. Or they could pick a champion to win the whole tournament and receive one lump sum. There was a little less than one hundred million dollars to be won this night, which was very good for an opening night. Darian had already placed his bet on the fighter known only as Draco. Xavier had been most impressed by the fighter's skill, so Darian had chosen Draco as his champion.

It never ceased to amaze Darian that the human race would, no doubt, do just about anything for money. They put a price tag on their own lives. Darian had never met one vampire that would name the price of their own immortality. He figured mortals thought they were immortal, that life would always grant them another day. Until, of course, their last day came before they could blink their eyes. Darian no longer worried about having his life snuffed out so easily. It would take a lot more than a virus or blunt force trauma to kill him, of that he was pleased.

The announcer came out through sliding double doors with two beautiful female vampires. Dressed in red sequined bikinis and top hats, white sequined bow ties and matching six inch heels, they stood by his side, hands on their hips. The announcer wore a red sequined tux with tails, matching hat and a white silk shirt with matching gloves. He was a tall male with black hair and pale skin. Though he wasn't a vampire, he could easily pass for one. Vampires were always pale before their first feeding. Pale and cold. Then when their bodies are filled and warmed with living blood, they can pass easily amongst the human race. A very observant human could detect the subtle differences in skin and hair textures and the shine of a vampire's eyes.

The announcer ordered some film footage of the fighters to be run on the huge television suspended over the arena. The crowd 'oohhhed' and 'ahhhed' as they witnessed the talents of the new tournament fighters. There were a mixture of female and male martial artists and grappling street fighters. Darian could hear a few murmurs of those who wished they could change their bets. He smiled. Too late, he thought. The footage ended, the crowd hushed, everyone waited for the theatrics the announcer provided. The lights dimmed to darkness, leaving only one spotlight on the announcer. He looked around the crowd as he raised the microphone to his mouth.

"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight you are in for a treat. Once again, we have gathered all of the world's best fighters to battle it out over the next three days, for a total grand prize of five million dollars!" he said with raised hands.

The crowd cheered and applauded. Darian laughed and clapped as well. He liked the energy from the audience. It was an appetizer to the hunt, or in this case, since he had fed already, it was more of a dessert. Just enough to whet his appetite for the bloody fight that was soon to come.

"Tonight, we begin a new tournament with twelve vicious fighters, all willing to tear each other's hearts out for that money. I hope you have placed your bets, ladies and gentlemen, and I hope you have placed them well, because there is no way of telling who will win the 'Champion of Gods Tournament!'"

Once again, the crowd released a thunderous applause.

"Now, without further ado, let us begin."

He turned to face the sliding double doors as they opened, and a female walked out into the arena. She was tall, about six-feet, two-inches. She reminded Darian of the fabled Amazonian women. Her dark olive skin was scarred. She had two large scars, one on each cheek. A long, ragged looking scar trailed her left shoulder, down her arm to her wrist. She carried a chain whip as her choice of weaponry. Her hair was cut short, just an inch shy of a "buzz" cut. Her brown eyes reflected only two things: greed and confidence. Darian couldn't wait to see her opponent. He never saw any of the people chosen for the tournament. He left the hand picking to Xavier. He seemed to enjoy the auditions more so than Darian. The announcer began to give her statistics.

"Standing in this arena, is a behemoth of a woman, six-feet-two-inches, one-hundred and eighty-five pounds of lean mean muscle. She knows no fear! Her weapon of choice is a chain whip. She vows to rip the skin off of her opponent with her trusted weapon. Put your hands together for Viper!" He yelled her name to pump up the crowd.

It worked. The crowd cheered, stamped their feet and applauded. Viper held her hands in the air and whipped her chain around one good time before the crowd hushed. All eyes were on the door again and the announcer.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the arena, a man that stands at the staggering height of six-feet, six-inches, two-hundred and sixty-nine pounds of hard hitting muscle. He has no weapon, the only weapon he says he needs are his bare hands. Please put your hands together for Draco!"

The arena burst with cheers and jeers. Darian settled comfortably in his chair, putting his feet up on the leather footstool. The lights illuminated, filling the arena with brightness. The announcer and female vampires that had gestured to each entering fighter, left the arena floor. At the sound of a buzzer, the two fighters circled each other like two lions preparing for battle.

Darian suspected that was how every living being prepared for battle. He had caught himself doing it in the past when he had been challenged for territory or another vampire wanted to take him to make him their slave. They soon found out he was not an easy target. He leaned forward to get a better view as the two fighters collided, the taller man knocking the female to the ground. She regrouped quickly, rolling away from his huge foot which was trying to follow up the first blow with another. She swung her chain whip, catching Draco across the face, slicing open the skin, blood started to ooze from the wound. Darian caught the first whiff of that succulent scent, and was thankful he had already fed.

The fighter touched his cheek wiping away some of the blood. Bringing his fingers to his lips, his tongue darted out licking redness away. The fighters smiled at each other, pleased with the effect of their approach. Draco charged her suddenly, she whirled her chain around striking him across the chest. She whipped it around several times, each blow striking various parts of his body, leaving bloody trails seeping out of the vicious looking wounds accumulating over his skin. Darian was beginning to wonder if he'd made a wise bet. It most certainly would not be the first time that he lost a few million on the wrong fighter. He tried to pick his fighters based on their lust for blood, their ruthlessness and above all ... greed. He had seen lesser skilled fighters walk away with the prize. However, he was expecting more out of his pick for tonight's match.

Draco caught her chain and attempted to yank it from her but Viper had double wrapped the strap around her knuckles so tight that the harder he pulled the chain, the more it began to cut into her skin. Darian could see the blood oozing out of the cuts that were getting deeper the harder Draco pulled on the chain. In one final tug, Draco pulled Viper close to him, causing her to lose her balance. He punched her hard in the stomach, causing her to gasp and cough as she struggled to bring air back into her lungs.

Darian heard her ribs crack when the last blow had struck. He wondered how much longer Viper would be in the match. The intestinal fortitude of human beings struggling to survive never ceased to amaze him; it was only matched by their hunger for money and power. She wanted that money as much as Draco did. Viper rolled away from the follow-up attack. Draco was stronger, but he wasn't faster. As she rose, Draco punched her in the face, knocking her against the thick Plexiglas wall of the arena. Her blood splattered the wall as he punched her again, her body falling against the walls as she tried to roll away. Regaining her bearings quickly, she managed to pull a knife from her boot. Darian smiled at the deviousness of it all. There were no rules in the coliseum, it was kill or be killed, win or lose, live or die. Viper waited for her opponent to approach her before shoving the blade deeply into his groin and twisting it.

The tall muscular man screamed gutturally. His eyes closed tightly as his mind registered the damage. His hand swung out, striking Viper hard across the cheek, knocking out three of her teeth. The crowd erupted with hoots and jeers as the two battled on. Blood stained the arena floor and glass walls. Darian smiled, day one of the tournament was only beginning. There were five more matches for the night. Draco pulled the six-inch blade out of his groin, grimacing all the while. The pain he was suffering was written all over his face as he struggled to rise. He stood, hunched over, blood dripping profusely from the wound, making a puddle between his legs.

Viper rose to her feet, spitting the blood from her mouth onto the floor. She grimaced, revealing bloody holes in her gums where her teeth used to be. Her face was already beginning to bruise and swell. Her nose had been broken and her skin was cut above her left eyebrow. The nasty-looking wound was dripping blood into her eye, causing her to blink constantly to clear her vision. Draco had bloody wounds all over his upper chest and calves and a huge bloody stain in the front of his pants. His nose had also been broken. Their combined wounds looked equally gruesome and painful.

As he tried to walk toward her, his legs gave out. He had lost too much blood and the pain in his groin was crippling. Grabbing his most wounded area, he fell to his knees then toppled over onto his side. His skin began to pale as the blood continued to pour out of the open wounds. The announcer entered the arena again, the crowd cheered and applauded, some knew what was going to follow. The moment they had all been waiting for had finally come. It was time to decide the fates of the winner and the loser, and only one would leave the arena tonight the victor and ten-thousand dollars richer. The fighter who was left was the one whose life depended on their generosity.

Many had lost tens or hundreds of thousands of dollars, some even millions on this fight. Darian had been most disappointed. It proved the old adage true; you simply couldn't judge a book by its cover. It was one thing Darian admired about women. They were damned resourceful. He had lost a million dollars on Draco. Though he was tempted to participate in his fate, he decided to stick with his own tradition, sitting back to watch as the crowd cheered and booed the fallen fighter.

"We have the winner of this match, ladies and gentlemen ... Viper!" The announcer declared as he gestured toward the tall, battered woman.

She would no doubt need all the rest she could get because she had two more fights over the next two days to come. Viper held her hands in the air. She had won the ten thousand dollar prize for the preliminaries, but her goal was the five-million dollar grand prize. A hush fell over the crowd as the announcer raised his hands for silence. The lights dimmed slightly, adding ambiance to the arena. He looked at the bloodied and battered body of Draco.

"Ladies and gentleman, here we have the fallen opponent. He fought. He failed. You decide!"

He pointed to the crowd around the arena and the people screamed and applauded.

"You decide if he shall live or die."

The crowd rose to their feet, cheering. Darian inhaled deeply as the scent of blood pumping in their bodies, rushing to their heads, filled the arena.

"Shall he live?"

The announcer held his thumb pointed upward and the majority of the crowd booed. Only a few cheers and claps could be heard over the disappointed audience.

"Or shall he die?"

His thumb turned downward, the audience burst into a roar of applause and cheers. The announcer gave Viper a slow nod, walking away from the prone man. The sound of the excited audience thundered throughout the arena as Viper picked up her chain whip and wrapped it around the dying man's neck. She pressed both feet on his back, pulling with all her might as he struggled weakly, fingers clawing at the chain, trying to free himself from the pressure. His eyes bulged, pupils dilated, chest heaved one last time, then all the air in his lungs emptied as the crowd rose to their feet in a thunderous applause, pleased that they had played God. Draco's corpse was dragged from the arena floor as the announcer returned to introduce the next two fighters.

"I knew I'd find you here, Darian," a soft, female voice said with a hint of a French accent.

Darian knew who it was, he didn't need to turn around. He could smell her even before she entered his private box. He smiled, held his hand out, gesturing to the chair next to his.

"Elise ... how are you this evening?" he asked, turning to face the feline beauty at his side.

His beautiful green eyes roamed over her sumptuous body.

"I'm feeling fine, even better now that I'm finally in your presence. It's unfortunate that you're a vampire, I always have to wait until sunset to see your beauty ... to feel your touch."

She took his hand, pressing his knuckles to her lips, she kissed them gently. Darian smiled. He had helped her once and was taken by her beauty and aristocratic charm. Although he didn't doubt his sexual power to seduce, he had never expected Elise to become so entranced with him.

"You've just missed a very good match. I've managed to lose a million dollars on a fighter I was most certain would win or at least make it to the next round. This just proves that even I can be wrong ... once in a while." He smiled.

Elise, still holding Darian's hand, ran his fingertips down the front of her shirt. She pressed his palm over her left breast so that he could feel her rapid heartbeat and her mounting passion.

"I see you've missed me very much," he said as his fingers kneaded the soft flesh of her breast.

"Oui, I have. Do we have to stay here and watch these matches? Don't you want to sweep me off of my feet, whisk me away to your bedroom and make love to me until the sun rises?" she asked in her most enticing tone.

She climbed slowly out of her seat and onto Darian's lap, her skirt rising above her hips to her waist.

"I would love to sweep you off your feet and whisk you away but I think it would be more exciting for both you and I to have sex right here, right now. I'm sure you can smell the blood in the air, feel the fear and excitement of the arena. I can feel it, can you?" Darian asked as he ran his fingertips lightly over her jaw line.

He ran his right hand down her back, bringing goose bumps over the surface of her skin.

"Yes, I can," she said breathlessly as she leaned forward, kissing Darian deeply.

Her tongue probed the inside of his mouth caressing his tongue. Their lips remained locked together as they fondled each other, letting their hands explore each other's heated flesh. Darian removed her sheer black shirt, wanting to see the black leather bra that covered her pale bosom. Her own hands sought the buttons of his shirt and undid each one before sliding the black shirt slowly off of his broad shoulders exposing his beautiful chest. Her hands ran over his warm flesh, feeling the muscles underneath his skin. Her mouth parted from his as she began to trail hungry kisses lightly along his jaw line. He closed his eyes, relishing the sensation of her soft lips over his skin. A low moan escaped his throat as Elise continued down his neck, suckling the soft, fragrant skin there, taking in his personal scent even as it mingled with his expensive cologne. His hands trailed up her back, found the little clasp to her bra and undid it with ease. He ran his hands over her delicate shoulders, found the straps and pulled them down, exposing her milky breasts. His hands sought the soft mounds of her bosom, tugging the little pink, erect nipples between his fingers. A flicking of his fingertip lightly over the tip of one nipple caused Elise to gasp and quiver.

"I want you inside me, now!" she growled into his ear.

Her nails dug into his flesh as she gripped his shoulders. He chuckled deep in his throat. She could feel the vibrations of his voice over his skin. It enticed her so, she could feel the wetness between her legs soaking her black lace thong panties. Darian smiled, he could feel her wetness dampening the front of his pants while she sat astride him. He enjoyed the scent of her arousal permeating the room; hot, wild and hungry. His penis hardened in his anticipation.

"How badly do you want me inside you?" he growled.

He ran the fingers along her inner thigh trailing upward until they touched the wetness of her panties. "Ah, sweet."

He rubbed his fingertips over the wetness causing her body to quake. Elise panted heavily as his breath brushed over her ear like a caress with each seductive word he purred. He looked positively gorgeous to her in his all black ensemble. There were few words that could express how desperately she desired him.

"If I don't feel you inside me in the next three seconds, I'm going to simply burst!"

She hoped that was specific enough. She wanted to feel his hard, naked body against hers; it was the only thing that mattered at that moment. Darian smiled. He was more than willing to oblige, especially since his earlier attempt at seducing Miss Balfour had been ruined. He lifted her slightly off his lap and worked at his zipper and top button. Elise caressed his smooth, erect penis, pulling it free from his pants. She smiled as she looked at his uncircumcised manhood. Darian yanked her black lacy panties, ripping the fabric. He brought the remains of her thong panties to his nose, inhaled deeply and moaned as her sexual scent assailed his nostrils. Elise began to grind slowly over his penis, reaching between them to guide him inside her. Darian released the panties, groaning as he was enveloped in soft, wet, hot flesh.

He gripped her hips with one hand as he rose up to pump deeply into her. His other hand ran over her shoulders then around her waist to press her closer to him, guiding her over his groin. His mouth closed over her breast, running his tongue over her erect nipple, teasing it, nibbling the delicate flesh. He chuckled deeply as he heard Elise cry out in pleasure. He could hear some of the audience discussing what they were seeing in his private skybox, but he cared little. He heard the crowd cheer as the next two fighters went at it, beating each other to bloody pulps. He could smell more blood being spilled and it heightened his lust as he was sure it did to Elise's as well. She began to grind harder and pump faster on his groin. He could feel her flesh constrict around him with each movement of her hips. He relished the heat that surrounded him as his penis stroked her fire. He became hungry for her orgasm, wanted to feel the heat rise to the boiling point, spilling over her in that one instant, that one magic moment, where nothing else mattered but the intense pleasure that followed. He pumped faster and harder, a wet smacking sound filling the room as their flesh met. He began to grunt and moan, as he felt his own climax building, he could sense Elise's own passion mounting. He licked her breast while his hand took hold of the other one, massaging the tender mound, stroking her nipple between two fingers. He heard Elise cry out as he felt a rush of heat erupt from her body.

He felt himself reach the point of no return as his penis hardened all the more, pulsating. He could no longer hold back and he released himself deep inside her. A low growl flowed from his throat through his clenched teeth as his orgasm rushed through his body. Elise remained tensed as spasm after spasm rippled through her. The room seemed engulfed in intense heat as they shared the moment. She finally collapsed on top of his chest, panting, her body still shaking from the effects of their sex romp. His own body relaxed comfortably in the chair. He stroked her soft brown hair, brushing some loose strands away from her eyes.

She smiled as she looked into the forest green of his seductive gaze. She felt like she could get lost in those eyes, happily lost forever. She snuggled even more closely to Darian, sighing deeply as she felt his strong arms encircle her. Darian sat there with her for several minutes, basking in the afterglow. He listened as the announcer introduced the fourth match and was slightly disappointed he'd missed two of the matches. He would have to settle for a playback video. The crowd went wild when a seven-foot tall giant of a man entered the arena. He was black with a thick, muscular build. He carried a steel bat. The announcer introduced him as The Destroyer. Darian chuckled. He had to wonder where these people picked up their stage names. He raised Elise up and kissed her lightly on the lips, just a soft brush of his to hers.

"Darling, I know you want to stay here forever, but we can't," Darian said.

Elise looked at him sadly. He was right. She had to get back to Sergio who would, no doubt, be combing the club for her. Reluctantly, she rose from Darian's lap. Both of them shivered slightly as he slid smoothly out of her. She pulled down her skirt as he put himself away, fastening his pants. He could still smell the sex in the air, and on their skin. The smell enticed him. Retrieving her black sheer shirt and bra from the floor, she snapped the bra back into place and pulled the shirt over her head. Darian reached over, picked up his black shirt, pulled it on, and buttoning the shirt with quickness and ease. She plucked her leather coat from the chair beside Darian's and pulled it on, smiling at him as he watched her dress. Darian's gaze darted toward the arena just as the seven-foot tall giant was brought to his knees by a five-foot-seven Asian male who was brandishing a large sword called a kodachi.

"Hmm, so tonight's just full of surprises," he whispered to himself.

He knew Elise could hear him, but that didn't matter.

"I hope I was one of those surprises?" she asked playfully, but serious at the same time.

Darian looked up at her, smiled and nodded.

"Always, my dear. Shall I escort you upstairs?" he asked as he rose from his seat.

She held out her hand, he took it, placing it gently on his forearm as they headed for the elevator. He was hoping he might catch the last match of the night, but he wasn't counting on it. Like he had said, the night was full of surprises. They reached the top level, walked off the elevator and entered the hallway. Darian turned to her with a puzzled expression. He had realized this before and wanted to mention it at first sight of Elise in his private skybox but never got around to asking, now was the time.

"Elise, how did you get to the arena?" he asked as they headed for the dance club.

Elise smiled.

"Now if I tell you, then I won't have any secrets, and a girl's got to have her little secrets or didn't you know that, my darling bloodsucker?"

She pinched his chin lightly between her finger and thumb.

Darian smiled, but was slightly annoyed. He had an idea of who let her in, that is, if she was let in. He hoped she hadn't gotten in by breaking through his security system. Nevertheless, he would have to have a long discussion with Xavier.

Entering the huge dance area, they were confronted by Sergio, who looked positively livid at the sight of Darian. He walked over to Elise and held out his hand. Elise became stubborn, refusing to take it. Darian released her hand, directing it toward Sergio's. She seemed slightly disappointed. She didn't answer to any man, so why was Darian putting her in Sergio's care? The two men stared at each other. Sergio's gray eyes bore deeply into Darian's. The auras of the men were rising, filling the little space between them, almost stifling.

"I'll only say this once. Stay the fuck away from her, Darian. She's mine and she belongs with her own kind. I've sat by long enough and watched you use her over the past six months and I'll stand for it no longer," Sergio said, his words squeezed through his gritted teeth, and his anger thickened his Italian accent.

Elise was taken aback; she was also upset that he would dare try to claim her. She was queen of the Pride and she answered to no one.

"I beg your pardon? Sergio, I think we've had this discussion before, I will not be treated like a piece of meat" she said, but Sergio cut her off.

"You treat yourself like a piece of meat," he said, his teeth still gnashing together.

He never took his gaze away from Darian. It angered him even more to know they'd had sex. It wasn't supposed to be this way ... never this way.

"If you can't get control of yourself, then I'll do it for you. You need to take responsibility for the Pride. You're not doing that. Instead, you fornicate with this dead son of a bitch and I can't stand it."

Darian smiled. He had to admit, he liked Sergio. He had guts among other things. He could respect anyone who took the initiative to set things in their favor. Those were the people who controlled the world, who would see to it that the world would be created as they saw fit and would accept nothing less. However, he would only stand to be threatened and insulted for so long before he would have to act. He respected Sergio, understood his situation but he was a master vampire, and this leopard standing in front of him needed to understand that.

"Sergio, I do not make the decisions for Elise. She has decided to share my bed. Perhaps you need to change your approach to make yourself more appealing to the lady. Whatever the case, do not come into my establishment and threaten or insult me. I do not take kindly to insults, to say the very least. Now, if you two are going to continue to argue, please do so elsewhere." He looked at Elise. "Elise, I will see you later."

At that, he turned and headed back down the long hallway.

Sergio reflected on Darian's warning. He didn't like the vampire, but there was something about him that he had to respect. The power emanating from him was almost suffocating. He knew he could never go toe to toe with Darian but he was still willing to fight for his queen. He looked at Elise. He couldn't read the expression on her face, there were too many emotions being played out. He guessed one of them was sadness and he knew why. Darian didn't try to fight for her, didn't try to defend her honor. He hoped it was an eye opener for her. He hoped it showed her the truth. To Darian, she was just a piece of ass and nothing more.

"Elise, I apologize for my actions, I was rude. I shouldn't have said the shit that I said. Come on, let's go home. We need to talk, we really do. Please, let's not argue tonight. Let's just talk, talk about us and our Pride, the important things."

Sergio took Elise's hand as he led her, without resistance, out of the club. It was early in the morning, only two hours before sunrise. They climbed into Sergio's sports car and drove home.

***

Adrian crept as softly and slowly as possible into Warren's bedroom. He hoped he could climb into the bed before Warren woke up to stop him. Adrian took off his thick royal blue bathrobe, pulled back the black linen covers and slid in beside his Pack brother who smelled his scent and woke up groggy but alert enough to know that he was no longer alone.

"What the hell are you doing?" Warren asked as he looked over his shoulder at Adrian, who was smiling as he slid closer to him.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm getting closer to you so that we can have sex," Adrian said, smiling devilishly as he ran his fingers down Warren's spine.

Warren shivered slightly and moved away from him. He sat up in the bed and looked at Adrian, who was resting his head on his arm, watching him. Adrian's beautiful silver eyes sparkled in the soft early morning light, a wonderful gift from his father at conception. Warren wanted to kiss his soft, full lips. He wanted to feel Adrian's tongue enter his mouth. He wanted to run his hands along that smooth, caramel colored skin. It went without saying that what he wanted was no doubt going to lead to trouble, it always had.

"Look, Adrian, we aren't together anymore, remember?"

"Look, Warren, we never officially broke up, remember?" Adrian replied sarcastically.

"Adrian, yes, we did and we can't do this. We should just remain friends and Pack brothers because we both know neither of us wants to be the bottom boy in this relationship. Besides, you're too fucking controlling. That shit gets on my nerves," Warren stated as he reached to turn on the light.

Adrian grabbed his hand and bringing it down towards his groin.

"We can both be versatile. I'm willing to let you top me. I enjoy that, too. Look, Warren I want you and I can smell that you want me. You've got this whole room filled with the scent of your desire. Let us satisfy each other."

He pressed himself closely to Warren's body. He could feel Warren's hardness against his thigh. He could smell his own lust in the air mingled with that of Warren's. It had been two months since the last time Warren had sex, which was a record for him. It would be a record for any of them. It wasn't like Warren was trying to start his own record. It was just that his job had kept him so busy lately. He didn't have time to date.

Warren looked into Adrian's stunningly handsome face, he felt himself leaning closer to those soft, full lips, losing his resolve. He closed his eyes and felt the softness of Adrian's flesh as their lips met in a passionate kiss. He began to massage the hardness between Adrian's legs making him moan. Adrian's hands slid around Warren and he pulled him on top. Their legs entangled as they kissed deeper. Adrian's hands caressed Warren's back, moving further down to massage the round, firm mounds of his buttocks as his hips ground into Warren's groin. Both of them moaned softly as their tongues caressed.

Adrian rolled Warren over pinning his hands above his head as he began licking his neck, trailing his soft, wet tongue down his chest. He sucked, gently at first, on one nipple then the other. He increased the pressure of his lips as he pulled on the tender flesh, rubbing the nipple in his mouth, flicking the tip with his tongue. Warren jerked as he felt the sensations Adrian caused, making small gasps come from him at every delightful assault.

Adrian smiled and released Warren's hands as he watched his facial expression change to that of rapture. He moved lower and lower licking the fine, curly dark hair that trailed down to the waistband of Warren's boxer briefs then disappeared under the cloth. Adrian rose slightly to kiss the smooth skin of Warren's stomach, continuing to kiss his way further down as he pulled back the edge of Warren's underwear. Soft, dark brown hair sprang up from the waistband. Adrian swirled his tongue through the hair as Warren jerked, his body tensing the further his lover's hot, wet tongue traveled. Adrian pulled the underwear off completely, smiling down at Warren's circumcised erection. He leaned forward, flicking his tongue delicately, smiling as a spasm shot through Warren at his touch. He ran the tip of his tongue along the hardness, sending tremors throughout his lover's body. Warren's fingers gripped the black linen sheets tightly as Adrian teased his manhood.

"Please ..." Warren begged breathlessly as he fought the urge to push Adrian further.

Adrian wrapped his fingers around the base, raising his head to look up at him. He loved the feel of the smooth, hot flesh he stroked lightly in his hand, squeezing slightly at the same time as his wrist and fingers worked the hardness of Warren's manhood.

"Please what? What is it you want me to do ... exactly?" he asked teasingly.

Warren looked down at Adrian's smiling face and licked his lips, moistening them.

"You know full well what I want you to do."

"Ahhh, no I don't. I think I need thorough instructions." Adrian chuckled as he continued to slowly stroke the hardness in his hand.

Warren moaned loudly as he squirmed on the bed. His toes curled as his grip tightened on the sheets. His body was on fire and he couldn't take Adrian's teasing much longer.

"I want your mouth on me, now," he panted.

Adrian smiled and lowered his head slowly until his mouth covered Warren's entire length, His head bobbed up and down in a smooth, slow rhythm as he worked his lover over. Warren cried out as Adrian increased his speed, his hips thrust forward to meet Adrian's mouth as it came downward on his shaft. Adrian could smell Warren's climax coming, he could hear his heartbeat increase. He pulled away, leaving Warren looking surprised and disappointed.

"Not yet ... Roll over," Adrian instructed in his deep, masculine voice.

He watched Warren gather enough of his senses to slide one leg around him and roll over, rising onto his hands and knees, his buttocks poised upward. Adrian leaned over, snatching his bathrobe from the floor and reaching into the pocket, pulled out a small packet. Warren watched over his shoulder as Adrian ripped the little packet with his incisor and squeezed the contents into his palm. He worked his hand over his own hardness. His muscles twitched, causing his pectorals to jump at the pleasurable sensation. When he thought he was oiled up enough, he slid his hand over Warren's back; caressing his shoulders as he pressed his pelvis against Warren.

"Relax," he whispered into Warren's ear as he guided himself into him.

He heard the other man cry out in a mingling of pleasure and pain as he passed the sensitive barrier. Adrian grunted in ecstasy the further he pushed into Warren.

He continued to pump in and out of Warren in a smooth, languid movement. Both men moaned, caught in the vortex of pleasure. Warren's fingers clenched the sheets so tightly that his knuckles began turning white. Adrian slid his hand down Warren's arm, finding his hand and interlocking their fingers together. His other hand came up from underneath to grasp Warren's hardness, stroking the flesh in time with his thrusts. Adrian kissed Warren's shoulder blade and spine. He planted soft, hungry kisses on the nape of Warren's neck as his lover pushed up to meet his thrusts each time. Their rhythm sped up. Increasing the pressure, Adrian didn't hold back as he drove himself faster and harder into Warren with an animal abandon. The strong scent of male arousal filled the room. Warren loved the sensation of Adrian's hardness gliding inside of him and he could feel his pleasure hitting its peak. Stronger and stronger the sensation grew almost making it unbearable. Adrian closed his eyes tightly as he felt energy tingle throughout his body. It began to boil from between his legs, spreading through his limbs then erupted from him. Throwing their heads back, they cried out as the culmination of their lovemaking rushed through their bodies in a torrent of sheer ecstasy. Time seemed to stand still as they shared this passionate moment. Adrian convulsed several times before collapsing on top of Warren, weak, barely able to catch his breath. They laid there trembling, panting, sweating, their eyes closed, fingers still locked together.

"That ... was ... amazing. Oh my God!" Adrian panted through breathless gasps.

He was the first one able to speak. He reluctantly rolled away from Warren who was still lying on his stomach with his eyes closed, content. All he could do was nod his head. Adrian leaned closer, kissing Warren's mouth, a soft peck on the lips. He continued, placing soft kisses on Warren's cheek and shoulder blade. He reached over, taking hold of the other man's waist, rolling him to his side. He moved closer, 'spooning' Warren as they drifted off to sleep. Both sated and relaxed.

Warren was awakened by the ringing of his cell phone's annoying little tone. He searched through his pile of clothes on the floor and found the little silver phone. He flipped it open, lifting it to his ear.

"Hello?" he asked groggily.

"Warren, this is Matthew. Look, we have ourselves another body. I need you here at 95th street, east of Jeffery. Did you get that?"

Matthew seemed tired and stressed at the same time. Warren was worried about him.

"Yeah, I got that. Hey, are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah I'm fine. I just don't like the feeling I'm getting about this case."

"Yeah, tell me about it."

Warren thought about the other theory Xander had regarding his case. He didn't want to dismiss it without sharing it with his partner.

"Look, I've been thinking about another scenario. Just hear me out. What if one of the rebel humanist groups committed this murder to make the supernatural race look bad so that congress would reverse the bounty hunter law?" (A law established at the beginning of the Exposure, before the S.U.I.T. organization was created, that allowed individuals the opportunity to obtain bounty hunter licenses to hunt down and kill suspected supernaturals.)

There was a moment of silence as Matthew mulled over the theory.

"It's doubtful. How could a human rip off a head and slowly?" he said, finally.

"It could be done and easily. Think about it. They could have drained the body and then tied it to a machine and stretched the neck until the head was ripped away. I know it's farfetched but I don't want to rule it out. Right now, we need all the leads and motives we can get," Warren said as he glanced at the clock.

The time was 6:15 A.M., a most ungodly hour by any standards. He looked over his shoulder as he felt Adrian stir behind him. The phone had awakened them both and Adrian was probably still awake, listening to every word he and Matthew said.

"Well it's a motive, that's for sure, but you need to see the condition of this body before we further explore that option. Oh and Warren ... ?" Matthew started.

"Yeah?"

"You may want to eat some of that steak tartar you like so much, because this one isn't nearly as nice as the last. Okay, I'll be waiting on your ass to get here."

The phone clicked off and then came the buzz that meant the connection was long gone.

"You're leaving?" Adrian asked in a groggy voice.

"Yeah, I've got a case I'm working on," Warren said as he climbed out of the bed to head to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Adrian rose up on his elbow, watching the naked form of his lover enter the illuminated room. He heard the water running and decided it would be nice to share a shower. Throwing back the sheets, he climbed out of the bed determined to do just that.

"Who told you I wanted to share?" Warren commented, watching as Adrian climbed into the shower, closing the frosted glass door behind him.

"I thought you could use some company. Besides, someone has to wash your back," Adrian said as he reached for a washcloth and began lathering it up. "Turn around."

He worked the soapy rag over Warren's shoulders and back, then massaged his butt cheeks, making Warren chuckle. Adrian loved the feeling of Warren's muscular, trim figure. He enjoyed running his hands over the soft, dark hair dusting his tanned skin.

"I swear, you're so damn predictable it's not even funny. Look, I can't shower with you like this now. So let me just rinse off and get out," Warren said, moving away from Adrian as fast as he could, or he wouldn't be leaving anytime soon.

He stood under the nozzle as the warm water rinsed off his soapy body.

Adrian smiled triumphantly to himself as he watched the suds cascade down his lover's body. As far as he was concerned, Warren was his again, lock, stock and barrel. A few minutes later, Warren turned the water off and they both climbed out of the shower and toweled off. Adrian walked back to the bed, laid down and began chatting with Warren as he quickly dressed.

"So this case must be about shape-shifters or vampires or some shit like that since the S.U.I.T. division was called in," he said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, but I'm still not sure which one. There is a new body I have to view today. I told Xander about the first one and he's not sure if it's a shape-shifter or not. I caught the scent of one of us in the vicinity, but not on the body, so it's hard to tell what the fuck is going on," Warren said as he finished tying his boots.

He enjoyed wearing blue jeans, t-shirts and boots.

"So what else did my father say? Which supernatural race does he think the murderer is? I know how he tries to find one of our kind before the humans do and set them on the right path. But from what you're telling me, I don't think he's going to interfere with this one," Adrian said as he settled more comfortably on the bed.

"Well, he thinks it could be one or the other as well as a rebel humanist group trying to set us up."

Adrian chuckled. "Well, you know my dad."

"Yeah, I know. Okay, I've got to go. I'll probably be back, but for now, I have to go to work."

As Warren walked past the bed, Adrian's hand darted out, catching hold of his wrist. He pulled Warren close to him and planted a huge, sloppy kiss, thrusting his tongue into Warren's mouth, giving him a reminder of their activities earlier that morning. He finally released him.

"Okay, now you can go to work."

He smiled and pulled the sheets over his head.

Warren looked at him and couldn't help but smile. He did miss Adrian and his body tingled still with the sensations of what they had done only three hours earlier. Picking up his truck keys, he left the room. He traveled along I-55, heading back to Chicago.

Chapter Nine

Natasha woke up to see a young nurse checking her IV. She licked her dry lips to moisten them. Her head hurt, along with her arm, back and neck. She touched the bandage on her forehead and found the source of the throbbing inside her head.

"May I have some water?" she asked the nurse, her voice sounding as dry as her throat felt.

"Sure," the nurse said in a most cheerful voice.

She stood five-feet-two inches. Her dark brown hair was combed back into a bun. She wore a multicolored-floral printed shirt with white pants. Smiling at Natasha, she reached over to the nightstand, poured Natasha a tall glass of water and handed it to her.

"Here, now drink this, but drink it slowly. You have a mild concussion and some cuts and bruises, but you'll be okay. You were lucky to have survived. God blessed you," the nurse said as she kissed the little silver cross that dangled from the silver chain around her neck.

"There was another woman with me, is she okay?" Natasha asked somewhat frightened but still groggy from the drugs she had been given.

"Your friend is okay. She suffered a broken arm and some minor cuts and bruises. She'll be fine."

The nurse checked her chart one last time making sure she was being thorough.

"There, are you comfy?" she asked, smiling.

Natasha nodded. "Which hospital am I in? How long have I been here? What happened to the drivers?" she asked consecutively.

"You're at County General Hospital; you came in several hours ago. I'm not sure about the two drivers. I think it's going to be on the news. Right now you need to get some rest, doctor's orders. Oh," the nurse replied, looking at her chart "I wanted to know if you're on any type of medication."

"Yes. I take prescription medicine for my headaches. I've been taking it since I was a child. But, I didn't take my medicine last night because I knew I'd be drinking. The last thing I remember was feeling really sick; my head was hurting and spinning at the same time. And I fell asleep in the cab ... " Natasha said as she struggled to remember the events of last night.

"Do you remember the name of the medication you're taking?" the nurse asked as she scribbled words down on Natasha's chart.

"Yeah, Triadonex, is there a problem?" she asked.

The nurse looked up from the chart and gave her a beguiling smile.

"No. No problem, it's just better for both of us to know if our patients have any medications they're taking or allergies. Speaking of allergies, do you have any?"

Natasha thought about her medical background for a second or two.

"No. I don't believe I do."

"Excellent. Now you lay back and get some rest. The bathroom is over here if you need to use the restroom. And here's my call button, right here."

The nurse pointed to a red button on the safety bar of the bed.

"And the remote control for the TV, here," she informed as she gestured to a black controller on the table. They will be serving breakfast in about fifteen minutes. Is there anything else you need?"

The nurse waited to see if her patient had any other questions. Natasha shook her head.

"Okay, call me if you need me," the nurse said as she covered Natasha up to her neck in sheets.

She placed the chart on the edge of the bed and left the room.

Natasha didn't know what had happened. She was concerned about the drivers, but it was the vision she received seconds before the accident that worried her. Did she have a premonition? Or was it just a freak coincidence? She thought about the man she took the keys from. That bastard bartender must have given the damn keys back! She hoped he would be fined for that. You just don't let people drive drunk, and now two people might be dead since the nurse didn't mention that they were brought to the hospital with her and Annette, the two injured. She was angry and sad. It all could have been avoided.

She looked around the little room, listening to the beeps and clicks of the machines along with the soft snores from the patient next to her. She looked over at the narrow bed to her left and saw an elderly lady asleep. Her wrinkly pink flesh had taken on a pale luster and there was a thin layer of sweat on the woman's skin. Natasha hoped that the woman wasn't contagious. She didn't like hospitals and having to share a room with someone that pale unnerved her. She watched the woman's chest rise and fall at a normal pace for a few seconds then decided everything might be alright, for the most part.

She turned her attention on the room itself. There was a little thirteen inch color TV suspended from the wall in the far upper left corner of the room. Two cloth upholstered chairs sat in the room, one by the elderly patient's bed and one beside her own. The room had white plastered walls with a white cement-tiled floor. There was a huge window on the far left wall. The curtains were closed to prevent the morning sun from shining through. The sun was exactly what Natasha wanted to see, just to make sure she had survived for real. The bathroom was conveniently only a few feet away from her bed, for which she was grateful. The pressure in her bladder was almost unbearable. She pulled the thick white sheets away from her neck, slowly slid both legs to the side of the bed, and scooted her aching body off the edge.

She had never felt such pain. Her whole body felt like it had been hit by a truck. Once when she was a child, she had fallen from a tree while climbing up to her best friend's tree house, and dislocated her shoulder. Until this moment, that had been the worst pain she had ever felt. Every muscle in her body ached. Standing up straight was proving to be more difficult than she had thought; a painful spasm shot through her body as she tried. Crying out, she had to grab hold of the steel bar on the side of her bed to keep from falling.

She could feel the effects of the painkiller wearing off and thought hastily about reaching for the nurse's button, pushing it repeatedly and asking for a dose of the good shit. Once again, she was reminded of the need in her bladder and had to cross her legs tightly to keep from having an accident. The last thing she wanted was to have to push the nurse's button to report that she had pissed herself. No, that was not an option. She took hold of her IV stand, put one foot in front of the other, forcing her body to work those aching muscles.

Once inside the bathroom, she closed the door, turning the little lock to secure her privacy. She looked at the familiar toilet with the steel bars on either side and flashed back to her time in the hospital when she had dislocated her shoulder as a child. At that age, everything seemed like a toy and she played with all of the gadgets inside the room. Now, all she wanted to do was leave and never come back.

Hospitals seemed like a huge petri dish to her. She always felt like the germs were just hovering in the air, that with every breath you took, you were bound to catch something. Whenever she had to visit a person in the hospital, she tried very hard to hold her breath as she walked down the halls. Holding her breath now was not an option. At least her roommate wasn't coughing up a lung over there in the other bed, or she might have panicked. She was never very good around sick people.

She squatted over the little white toilet, balancing herself over the opening. Gripping the steel bars for support, she released the pressure in her bladder. She felt tiny, pleasurable tingles work their way through her limbs, causing her to shiver just a bit. It was funny to think about all the little things that can bring pleasure at any given moment, at least she thought it was funny. After she finished, she washed her hands with the little, brown, square soap. Natasha considered taking the toiletries when she checked out, just like she did at hotels. She slowly walked back to her bed, feeling tired as she looked at the clock on the wall, noticing that the time was 6:50 A.M.. She may have only had about four or five hours of sleep. Natasha tried to remember what time it was when she left the club with Annette.

Annette! Natasha thought about her friend's condition. Feeling sorry for her, she wanted to go and visit Annette, but would give her a chance to rest first. She would visit her later, hoping she would be feeling better herself by then, making for better company. She climbed back into the bed slowly, pulling the thick white covers over her head. She lay still thinking about the freaky dream she had before the crash. It unnerved her that she could see something like that coming and knew who would be the cause of it.

Natasha thought about what could have caused the connection. In the vision she'd had of the man, who was probably dead, she saw him drop his keys on the ground and she remembered picking them up. She couldn't explain any of it as she lay there in the narrow bed, thinking about all the events that led up to the crash. She hadn't taken her medicine that night and had gotten drunk for the first time in her life, (though she vowed never to drink again). She thought that might have had something to do with the "premonition", maybe it was just a freak thing that happened. Maybe she just dreamed about the man since he was the last thing on her mind before she had drifted off to sleep. Maybe she had felt the blinding lights on her closed eyelids which made her open her eyes in the first place to see the headlights reflecting in the rearview mirror. It made sense to her. That must be it and nothing more, she thought. She decided that was the most logical answer for what happened then she snuggled deeper under the sheets, drifting off to sleep. This time, the only dream was about her friend sleeping in a little narrow bed with white linen sheets like hers.

Chapter Ten

Warren took the less crowded exit off the I-90 expressway. He hated the city's rush hour traffic; people always drove at their worst. They would race to get to work on time before they were fired or written up. Then, after the grind of the work day, everyone rushed to pick up their kids, groceries and get home in time to cook and enjoy a little prime-time TV before starting the rat race all over again the next day. An erratic driver cut him off causing him to swerve his car. He thought about letting him go, so he could get to the crime scene. Weighing that idea against getting breakfast, he decided to give the guy a ticket for driving recklessly. He could have caused an accident.

Warren took the exit to Lake Shore Drive to escape the stop and go traffic of the Dan Ryan expressway. Exiting the Drive, he turned onto Stony Island. He was almost there now. He knew right away he had reached the scene of the crime due to all of the police squad cars that blocked oncoming cars and the uniformed officers who were redirecting the traffic. He pulled his black Diamondback S5-20 four door truck over to the side, opposite of the crime scene. Reaching into his glove compartment, he pulled out a pair of latex gloves. He took a few deep breaths before climbing out of his truck.

Warren could smell the blood in the air; it made his stomach growl and churn with hunger. He immediately regretted not taking his partner's advice and grabbing a whole lot of something to eat along the way. The scent of the blood was so enticing, he felt his mouth water. Swallowing hard, he reached into his pocket, pulling out his badge and ID, and handed them to the uniformed officer protecting the crime scene from intruders and the media. Warren surveyed the crime scene as the officer verified his identification before handing it back. The body had been dumped on the shoulder of 95th Street. There was a small patch of wild grass that had grown four feet high and beyond that, huge patches of gravel and dirt.

He stepped under the yellow and black police tape that blocked off the crime scene. He could see the M.E. forensics expert taking pictures of the body from all angles. As he walked closer, he realized right away why forensic specialists were walking around the area and taking so many pictures. The crime scene was a horrific sight. The body had been dismembered; mutilated chunks of bloody flesh had been carelessly strewn about the area. A uniformed officer rushed passed him to puke on the curb next to a squad car, using the car's hood for balance as his stomach heaved its contents onto the pavement.

Warren looked closely at the gruesome display of mutilated flesh. His senses picked up a slight scent of a shifter from the scattered body parts but it was highly overshadowed by the smell of blood. He hoped whomever the pieces of flesh had belonged to was murdered somewhere around the location and not somewhere else like the last victim. The sooner he could catch this bastard, the better. At least, now he knew for certain that a shifter was involved. He just wished he had a more defined scent to work with.

Well, at least one thing could be ruled out. Xander's theory of foul play from the human race was out of the question from this standpoint. This was the work of a supernatural and it was the last thing the supernatural race needed. More drama. More ammunition for the humans to throw at them about how they should all be rounded up and destroyed.

He watched as blood dried to a dark red tint on the exposed ligaments and muscles. Ragged pieces of skin clung to the chunks of flesh. He counted five pieces of the body, ranging from small to medium. The largest chunk of flesh was what remained of the torso. He stepped closer to examine the bite marks where the wolf had torn through the skin, bone and muscle. Looking inside the cavity, he could see that the ribs had been splintered. Little particles of white bone sprinkled the remaining intestines still attached to the shredded abdomen. There was no blood splattered around the area, just small puddles that had drained from the pieces of the corpse. He fought the urge to kneel on all fours and plunge his face deep into the feast at hand. He licked his lips and swallowed the saliva that had gathered in his mouth as his stomach growled loudly, anticipating its next meal. He heard footsteps coming closer and looked up to see his partner approaching.

"I can hear your hungry ass from over there. Didn't I tell you to eat something before you brought your ass out here?" Matthew stated forcefully as he approached Warren.

Kneeling beside him, he inspected a bloody chunk of the corpse by lifting a piece of the torn muscle with his examining pen.

Warren gave him a rueful smile. He looked at Matthew's attire, a black sweatshirt with the faded letters of Rosenthall-Krest University on the front and a pair of faded and obviously worn blue jeans. His boots were the newest thing he had on. They still had that new store-bought shine to them.

"You did, but I didn't think I'd have enough time to stop," Warren lied.

"You had time. At least enough time to pull into a Burger Town or something and grab a dozen breakfast sandwiches. Anything would have been better than having you drooling over the body." He took another look at the scene. "Or what's left of a body. We can't even tell if this was a man or woman, young or old. I guess it matters little. As it stands now, this is a John or Jane doe. Shit, I'm not even sure if it's human!"

"It's human, Matt. Has Galen found anything more about the body from yesterday? Has it been identified?" Warren asked.

Matthew nodded. "Yeah, the victim was a man named Wallace Graham. He owned a Laundromat down there on 69th Street. His wallet wasn't found, but his wife had reported him missing two days before he was found. She, of course, doesn't know why anyone would do this to her husband. She said he was a good and caring person who always gave back to the community. I guess she didn't realize that supernaturals don't take that into consideration."

As soon as he made this statement, Matthew wished he could have taken it back, the expression on Warren's face made him regret it.

"You sound like the rest of them," Warren said as he gestured to the other officers surrounding the area.

"You know I didn't mean it like that. It's just, ah shit man, you know how I feel about all this. I know that humans are just as capable of this as the next being it's just-"

"Most supernaturals were human, so I suppose that's where they get it from," Warren said matter-of-factly, then walked over to another piece of the body.

He didn't want to get into this kind of debate with Matthew, not right now, not in public. He was grateful that no one was standing close to them as they exchanged words. He would hate to have to explain his sympathy for the supernaturals to humans who would not understand.

"I guess ... never mind. We'll talk about it later, I suppose," Matthew said as he rose, standing over the largest piece of flesh and bone.

Warren was grateful Matthew knew how to take a hint. It helped since he was trying to hide his own nature from the world.

"This looks like part of a femur right here." Warren gestured in a circular motion around a fragment of white bone jutting out from a football size chunk of bloody flesh.

Matthew walked over for a closer inspection. "Yeah, it looks like it. It's still too hard to tell if it's female or male. There's just not enough left for us to make that determination. Perhaps the bone marrow will aid Galen in determining the sex; it's his job."

"Well, this shifter took what he wanted then mutilated the body afterward to make it difficult to determine concrete evidence, that's for sure. We've also determined that these aren't just natural feedings, Matthew. The shifter is toying with us and I'm wondering why he's picking this side of the city to plant the remains of his victim. But there's something more ..."

Warren gestured for Matthew to follow him toward his truck. He needed to get away from the immediate scent of the body. But what he really needed was to eat something as soon as possible or he'd end up eating one of the people at the scene of the crime.

"I have to get something to eat and now," he whispered breathlessly as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his gloved hand.

He snatched the gloves off and climbed inside his car. Matthew climbed in on the passenger side, watching as his partner gripped the steering wheel so tightly, his knuckles began to sweat and turn white.

"Hey man, are you going to be okay? Shit, should I be sitting next to you right now?" he asked nervously, a slight timber in his voice giving him away.

Warren nodded. "I'll be fine, I just need to get away from here. I really should have eaten but I don't know how much good it would have done. I wasn't prepared to walk into a crime scene like that."

He pressed his forehead to his knuckles, taking several deep breaths before straightening up and starting the engine. He threw a glance at his partner and smiled.

"I wouldn't eat you. You'd probably taste like shit anyway," he joked.

"Oh please, I'd probably be the best thing you ever had in your mouth," Matthew shot back, winking at his partner.

Warren gave him a wolfish grin. That one line meant more to him than he would let Matthew know. He had thoughts about how good Matthew would taste in his mouth and he wasn't thinking as an entrée, either. He had always thought Matthew was extremely handsome. He enjoyed Matthew's personality and they had a lot of things in common. He also liked how Matthew always remained calm, even when he was pissed. Matthew reminded him of Xander. He didn't have any sexual lust for Xander, but a calm, cool temperament was always a turn on for him.

He wished Adrian was more like his father. It would have kept their relationship from getting so rocky. He drove his truck to the nearest Pancake Palace. He wanted a real breakfast, something that was going to coat his stomach. He thought about Adrian and the feel of his body stroking his, inside and out. It made him blush. If there was one thing that made a shifter think about sex, it was the sight and scent of blood. He could feel himself growing hard and fought against it. He didn't want to have to explain to Matthew why he was sporting a serious boner.

"What was it you were going to say back there at the crime scene? You looked like you were going to say something then just trailed off. What was it?" Matthew reminded Warren, bringing him out of his sex-filled trance.

"Well, this shifter, I think it's a wolf, but I can't be certain right now. I'm going to have to take another whiff."

"You mean werewolf?"

"Yeah, but inside the shifter community, we don't refer to ourselves as 'were' anything. If you change into a wolf, then you're just a wolf or cheetah, etc. You get it?"

Matthew nodded. "I remember you mentioning that before. So you think it's a we-wolf. What else?"

"I'm pretty sure it's baiting us, waiting to see if we can figure him out. And I'm sure he's laughing his fucking ass off. But, this is the thought that was on my mind. I think it may know that I'm a shifter and may be trying to expose me."

"Why do you say that?" Matthew asked, obviously concerned.

"Well, it's a hunch that I have. For one thing, if it's just feeding and tossing the remains, then this shifter is hiding its scent pretty fucking well. I went back to the first crime scene last night with the oldest and strongest of our Pack. He picked up the same scent I did, but nothing else. And I'm sad to say that the scent from that crime scene didn't match the scent I picked up at this crime scene. So, either it's two shifters working together, or that first scent was just a wolf passing through."

"How would this shifter know about you? Why would they be trying to expose you?" Matthew asked as they pulled into the parking lot at the breakfast restaurant on 87th Street.

The restaurant was one of Warren's favorites. He loved getting quantity with quality for his buck. He liked the wooden interior design of the restaurant. It reminded him of a bed and breakfast he had stayed at while camping and hunting with Xander and the Pack. The booths had blue and red plaid upholstery, the big bay windows allowing for plenty of sunlight. He adored the shining hard wood floors and the atmosphere, which was very friendly and laid back.

"I don't know, I've never smelled the scent before, so how this shifter knows me is a mystery. Unless ... this shifter returned to the prior crime scene after we had investigated. That would be one way, but it still doesn't explain the motive. It's been my experience that most serial killers try to hide their victim's bodies for fear that the tiniest evidence would lead to their capture. But this murderer wants to play cat and mouse, and this shifter is leaving only the clues he or she wants us to have. Matt, this killer doesn't fear us," Warren speculated as he climbed out of the truck, followed by Matthew.

"When we get back to the precinct, we have to look at the most recent missing person's reports. We have to try and find a link between the missing persons and the murder victims. We have to figure out where this killer is finding them," Matthew said as he held the door open for his partner.

They were seated right away. Warren's stomach growled louder, a fierce rumble deep inside his gut.

"Damn, man! Let's get you something to eat, A.S.A.P.!" Matthew joked.

Warren just smiled, but he did want to eat A.S.A.P.

An African-American waitress wearing a black dress with a white apron came over and set two glasses of water on the table in front of them. "What can I get you two handsome gentlemen?" she asked in a friendly voice. She held her ink pen poised, ready to jot down their order.

"Well, I would like a coffee and two scrambled eggs with a side of French toast. My friend here will just take everything on your menu." Matthew chuckled.

Warren gave him a cross look then opened the menu to see what he wanted to order. The options seemed limitless and his gut was getting more demanding with every passing second it went unfed.

"Do you need some more time?" the waitress asked.

Warren nodded. "Just give me about one minute and then you can come back, I should be ready to eat a horse by then," he said with a boyish grin.

Matthew gave him a knowing look. The waitress smiled and walked away.

Warren looked at Matthew. "What?" he asked, shrugging.

"Yeah, I bet you could eat a horse, probably have at some point."

"Do you really want to know?"

Matthew shook his head. "No, not really."

Warren laughed and went back to looking at the menu. Their waitress returned to the table a few minutes later, as directed, ready to take his order. He was ready now, with an appetite to boot.

"Okay, I'm ready now. I'll have the number four with an extra steakrare. A side of southern-style hash browns, Canadian bacon and ... a side of strawberry buttermilk pancakes and a large coffee."

He closed the menu, smiling at the waitress, who was still writing what he had listed as his "breakfast".

"Will this complete your order, sir?" she asked, smiling at him.

She just knew he was going to say, "Oh, and I forgot this."

"No, that's what I want."

He gave her another boyish grin, this time showing more teeth. She nodded and walked away.

Matthew looked at Warren, chuckling. "Tell me how is it you're not fat as hell? If I ate the way you ate, I'd be dead by now from high cholesterol and clogged arteries," He leaned closer across the table awaiting Warren's answer.

Warren met his friend's soft, brown eyes and smiled.

"Well, we've got a pretty high metabolism. So we burn fat and protein relatively fast. If you ever see a fat-ass shape-shifter, it's because that shifter never stopped eating. He or she probably fought the urge to run as well. So, in reality, I can eat whatever I want and just about never gain a pound."

He was glad they had a booth set away from the other patrons in the restaurant. This way, their conversation wasn't overheard.

"What do you mean, 'urge' to run?"

"Well, since we pretty much turn into wild animals, we have a natural instinct to go running and hunting. In addition, feline shape-shifters have the urge to climb, run and most take plenty of naps. I'm sure you can imagine the canine shape-shifters love to run, which is why I can enjoy chasing down a suspect on foot. It's the hunt, the chase." Warren shrugged one shoulder.

"I hope you don't mind me asking all these questions and shit. When I first found out about you, I had to absorb the reality of it. Then I just didn't want to know anything ... well anything outside of what might get me killed," Matthew said.

"I don't mind. But if you don't mind me asking, why do you want to know this stuff now, after all this time?"

"Fair enough. Things are different between us now, we've grown closer. You mean a lot to me. Besides, I'm pretty comfortable with the whole idea of you being what you are. What can I say, I want my curiosity quenched," Matthew said as he leaned closer.

Their waitress returned with Matthew's order. She gave them both a look thinking they were lovers. The way that Matthew peered into Warren's eyes had given her that idea.

"I'll be right back with your order, sir," she told Warren.

He nodded and thanked her. He watched Matthew dig into his eggs. It made his mouth start to water all over again. His stomach rumbled a bit more.

"Keep your eyes off my food," Matthew joked.

Warren chuckled and clasped his hands in front of him on the table.

"Back to what you were saying, I'm glad that you're asking questions. You mean a lot to me, too. I've wanted to tell you about my world for so long, but I didn't want to freak you out or anything. I'll answer any questions I can."

He looked around the restaurant at all the patrons. He didn't catch a scent of another shifter in the vicinity. But he was starting to get a little unnerved about discussing his "condition" in public.

"Better yet, Matthew, when we get back into the car, I'll tell you everything you want to know. But for right now, let's just stick to the case," he said, having second thoughts.

Matthew stared forward; contemplating discussing the gruesome details of their disturbing case over breakfast. He shook his head.

"What?" Warren asked him.

"I'd rather not talk about the case while I'm eating," he said.

Warren actually agreed. Although discussing the case wouldn't have bothered them, if it wasn't for the condition of the remains. It sickened Matthew and enticed Warren.

Warren's eyes widened with hungry delight as the waitress came closer to their table carrying a large brown tray that held the several plates that were his breakfast.

"Here you go, sir," she said, placing a large platter with two sixteen ounce skirt steaks accompanied by a three-egg omelet stuffed with cheddar cheese, green and red peppers, onions topped with fresh made salsa.

Next, was a bowl of hash browns with mixed green and red peppers, onions and diced spicy apple-glazed chicken sausage. The last plate was stacked with four, thick, fluffy buttermilk pancakes topped with strawberries, powdered sugar and whipped cream. She placed a serving of strawberry syrup next to the plate of pancakes, a bottle of ketchup and steak sauce next to his platter of steaks and eggs. The last was his large cup of coffee.

"Is there anything else that you'll need, gentlemen?" she asked, looking from one to the other.

The men gave each other a look then shook their heads. Warren was already cutting into the steak when she smiled and walked away. Matthew looked at the spread before him and just couldn't see where Warren put it all.

"I still cannot believe you're going to finish all that," Matthew said.

Warren simply nodded as he stuffed fork-full after fork-full of steak into this mouth. Other people surrounding their table threw quick glances at their booth, trying hard not to stare at Warren rudely as he ate. Matthew finished his meal and sipped his coffee as he watched his partner put away enough food for four people. He just shook his head.

Matthew wondered if they could win a free dinner if he ever took Warren back to his hometown in Texas to his favorite restaurant and had him order the "Cowboy". He pondered that for a minute. Not only would the dinner be free for you and your party, fifty-dollars was awarded along with your face on a plaque that would hang on the "Wall of Champions". You would become a legend. It's not every day that one person can put away a sixty-five ounce steak in an hour. Most gave up halfway through. He would have to tell Warren about it later.

After twenty minutes, Warren had finished his breakfast. He sat back, looking over the empty plates in front of him with satisfaction. He looked at Matthew and smiled.

"And you thought I couldn't finish this," he said as he shook his head as if to say "for shame".

"Shit, you weren't supposed to. By all rights, you should be passed out somewhere on a gurney." Both of them burst into laughter.

Warren could just picture what Matthew was thinking. Him, laid out, arms and legs dangling off the edge of the gurney, face still greasy from the breakfast as the paramedics performed emergency CPR. The thought made him chuckle. They settled in their seats for a few more minutes, Warren letting the breakfast digest a bit. He reached inside his pocket, pulling his wallet free. He held up his hand in protest as Matthew reached for his own wallet.

"Hey, don't worry about it, it's on me," he stated as he pulled out two twenty dollar bills and one ten.

"You sure?"

"Yeah. What's your seven dollars to this?" He gestured to all of his empty plates.

He raised his hand to call the waitress over who walked toward them. Handing her the money, he said, "Here, and keep the change. Thanks for everything."

"Oh, you're welcome," she said, smiling at her ten dollar tip.

She hoped he came back, she liked the big tippers. She didn't get tipped that much here. The two men left the restaurant and climbed into Warren's truck.

"Okay, now ask me whatever it is you want to ask." Warren started the engine.

Matthew looked at him. "I know some things about shape-shifters from the job, but not the behind the scenes shit, you know. Do you belong to a Pack or something like it?"

Warren thought over the question. If Xander knew he was revealing so much private information to his friend, he would no doubt want to kill Matthew. He would make sure he never told Xander how much he was revealing to his partner.

"Well, yes I do. I could live with them if I wanted to, but because of the job, I don't. There are about fifteen adult wolves in my Pack and three children. We have a leader who controls all the goings-on within the Pack. For example, he decides who's to be made a wolf. He also tries to makes sure none of us get into trouble. If we do get into trouble, he has to decide the best way to deal with it."

"So he's the top dog and shit, right?" Matthew asked, not noticing his play on words.

"Yeah, he's our Alpha. We do like that term to best describe the leader of the Pack. He has a life-mate, the Matron, our Alpha married her. I was raised by them when my parents were killed by hunters. They took me in right away and have been like parents to me."

"What do you mean by 'Matron'?" Matthew asked curiously.

"Well, she's the mother of the Pack, the Queen, so to speak. She's the caretaker, our Alpha is the protector, both are our providers. She can heal us if we're sick or wounded. She also helps raise any children born within the Pack," Warren said then he glanced at Matthew. "Do you need to go back to the crime scene to pick up your car?"

Matthew shook his head. "I hitched a ride with a black and white."

"Okay," Warren said as he entered the I-90 expressway heading toward downtown.

The street wasn't nearly as congested as it had been only a few hours earlier. The morning rush hour traffic was thinning, making for easier traveling. Warren lane surfed between eighteen wheelers easily.

"How does the Matron heal you?" Matthew asked, intrigued.

It was amazing, he thought, how organized Warren's world really was. He was glad to be getting a peek over the other side of the fence.

"Well, she has a certain power within herself to heal. She can also lick the wound to heal."

He gave Matthew a sideways glance out the corner of his eye. He wondered what was on his mind.

"Do you lick your wounds clean and heal them?" he asked.

"Lick them clean? I can and I do if I'm alone, but they heal on their own, as you've seen. Wounds just heal faster with the aid of our saliva. But, if it's a more serious, life-threatening wound, then we all go to her and drink of her healing blood as she licks the wound with her healing saliva. Not every female can be the Matron, as I'm sure you realize," Warren said, with raised eyebrows.

"Yes, I suppose. What kind of females can be Matrons?"

"Natural born females only. No bitten shifter can become one with the Alpha and become Matron. The magic or chemistry or whatever you want to call it, just isn't there," Warren explained. "Same with male shifters. Only a natural born male can assume the position of Pack Alpha."

"I see. Okay, what else? What tastes better? Cooked food or raw?" Matthew asked.

Warren thought about his answer for a moment.

"Raw. But that's if I'm in wolf form, of course. If I'm in human form, then I'd have to say I like the meat seasoned and cooked rare. At least I don't really get food poison, if I do, I pretty much puke it up within minutes of digestion and then I can go about my business, no long hours of night sweats and agonizing pain."

"Lucky you, I don't even want to remember the last time I was sick like that. Okay, tell me more about the Pack. Our knowledge in the S.U.I.T. is so limited, just the barest."

"That's because the supernatural community remains tight-lipped and a bit deceitful, I may add," Warren said.

"Not only that, we're put on a 'need to know' basis, which is just bullshit," Matthew added.

Warren nodded and continued.

"Like I said, we have a King and Queen who, protect and provide for the Pack. On full moons, which we refer to as Lunars, we hunt together. Where my Pack lives, we have a private forest for our hunting grounds. However, only natural born wolves can shape-shift at will and hunt when we choose. Bitten wolves are at the mercy of a Lunar before they can join the hunt, but there are exceptions to the rules here as well," he paused.

"Go on," Matthew urged.

Warren threw him a sly smile, flashing a row full of pearly whites.

"If a bitten shifter comes into the hunt and gets a strong scent of the blood from the kill, they might change. The hunger forces the body to change so they could feed. Our human form doesn't digest raw deer meat that well, you know with the bones and all." Warren smiled.

Matthew chuckled then Warren continued.

"Our digestive tract changes specifically for a different type of feeding. Also, another thing that can induce the change is extreme fear or anger. If we are terribly afraid or upset then the change could be triggered."

Warren turned off the expressway at the Ohio Street exit and headed toward the precinct.

"I forgot to ask before, I know how thorough you are, did you get everything we need to make our report from the crime scene today?" He asked as he stopped at a red light.

"Yeah, you know I did. Man, I'm still trying to digest all this. So exactly how strong are you?" he asked.

Warren thought about it for a minute.

"I could probably take one of these steel stop sign poles and bend it into a bow, easily. If I exert my strength, I could really do some damage. I have to monitor myself. I have to make sure I don't handle things under extreme emotions."

Matthew nodded, remembering the two times Warren had broken his car door handle. He seemed to be thinking about times, since their partnership, where he had noticed Warren's body seeming more tense than usual, as if he were struggling to contain something powerful within.

"One more question?" he asked as Warren pulled the car into the parking lot of the precinct.

"What's up?"

"How in the hell do you keep passing inspections and everything, with all these test we've had to take?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Well, it's not easy, I can tell you that. My Pack leader helps me out in that department. We have someone whose brother is in our Pack, she looks out for my records. She also does all the analysis and blood work for the precinct. And when I went to the military base, she hacked into the files before anything went public. She's a life saver, let me tell you," Warren said with a nervous chuckle.

"You wouldn't be talking about Sara would you? Sara Washburn?!" Matthew asked, surprised.

Warren nodded.

"Her brother was bitten ten years ago. She hides his identity, being as he's a lawyer and his career would be in the toilet if any of his rich, high-priced clients knew what he was. Even though the supernatural race has been exposed, we still have to hide. It sucks, but it's a fact. My Pack took him in and helped him through it. So to show her gratitude, she helps us out from time to time. My Alpha doesn't really want me to be a cop, but he wouldn't force me to switch careers, unless he thought it would threaten the Pack."

"What does he have against you working on the force?"

"That's a long story. A lot of my kind feel like it's a betrayal. My leader has mixed feelings about it. He'd rather not turn a shifter over to the humans, but if it can't be avoided, then he turns the other cheek, if you will. Now we got to go or people might start to think we're having a deep passionate conversation," he said with a chuckle.

Both men stepped out of the truck and headed inside. They walked side by side into the brightly lit station. Uniformed officers were walking around talking with each other and looking over files. One thing Warren knew for certain was that he really liked the S.U.I.T. division's I.T. (Infiltration Team) uniforms. They reminded him of S.W.A.T uniforms, only better, more stylish. The black vest was equipped with hooks for ultraviolet grenades. There were numerous pockets on the vest and pants for knives, ammo and other things. A protective, thin, steel collar and cuffs were sewn into the turtleneck shirt to be worn under the padded vest. Steel-toed combat boots that snapped closed, securing your feet inside. Yeah, Warren really liked wearing the outfit when they were zeroing in on a suspect. But as a detective, he wasn't required to wear the Infiltration Team's uniform.

They signed in at the front desk before going to their desks to look up some of the most recent files on missing persons. Warren's desk was a cluttered mess, files spread askew over the surface. Matthew's desk had all of his papers and files stacked neatly on top in one pile or placed in alphabetical order inside his file cabinet. Both had computers on their desk, and telephones equipped with speaker and caller ID. Sitting at their desks, they turned on their computers. Warren tried straightening up the mess on his desk. Unsuccessful, he stopped trying.

"Okay, I'm going to look up the missing person reports for the past forty-eight hours. What are you going to do?" Matthew asked.

"I'll think of something," Warren smiled.

Matthew looked at him differently now. He felt like he understood him better, more intimately. He was glad he'd lost his reservations about not wanting to pry, deciding to ask questions in spite of himself thinking it to be rude. He found a certain appeal to his partner now. He wasn't sure if it was because he'd always thought Warren was one of the sexiest men he'd ever seen or was it simply that he was accepting Warren's animal side? Was this just the effect of him being under the spell of an animal attraction, or both of the above?

He wasn't sure if he should say anything about the way he felt about Warren in depth. Would he be rejected? Could he take being rejected if he did? He decided to keep his feelings to himself for the time being. Besides, he wasn't sure if he could be the lover of a shape-shifter. He'd thought of that possibility many times since discovering Warren's true nature. Knowing a little bit more about the life behind the hype was truly an eye opener for him.

He cleared his mind of the rampant thoughts, trying to concentrate on the troublesome situation at hand. They had to track down and catch a killer, with very little to go on. He scanned through the files on his computer, reading the newest missing person reports on the list. It was sad to see so many people reported missing. This list had seventy-five people on it. There were forty-five throughout Illinois with the other thirty in Chicago alone.

"Shit, I've got about seventy-five people here in Illinois alone that have been reported missing ... thirty just from Chicago. Think it's safe for us to rule out the other states, or no?" Matthew asked, hoping that Warren was on the same page as he in thinking that the people reported missing in the state of Florida, were still in Florida.

He wanted to narrow their search as much as possible. They didn't have a motive established in these killings and he didn't want to waste resources and effort needlessly.

Warren suspected the killer may know what he was and may try to expose him. He didn't want to jump to conclusions. It could be true, but he wasn't willing to bet his whole paycheck on it, not yet at least.

"I think we should focus on Illinois, mainly Chicago's south side and the areas closest to where we're finding the bodies. I want you to know ... this shit really sucks," he said as he read Matthew's report of the most recent murder scene. "Even though the body wasn't in the same condition as the first one, it is still missing a head and lots of blood. You know what, now that I think about it; that explains why this was added to our case. I'm still thinking a vampire is involved somehow to explain the blood loss. It's too neat."

"Well, shape-shifters drink blood too, don't they? Ain't it like gravy?" Matthew asked.

Warren raised a perfectly arched brow, "Like gravy?"

Matthew shrugged one shoulder. "You know what I mean."

Warren smirked. "Despite your choice of words, you have a point. I didn't catch the scent of vampire on this body either, but that doesn't mean much. I didn't catch the scent of a shifter on the first body."

"Although I don't believe in putting all of our eggs in one basket, we should focus on one angle until we get a clue that points us into another direction. This case is too fragile to be bouncing ideas off the wall with no basis to them," Matthew suggested.

"I'll keep that in mind," Warren said. "We need to go talk to Galen, see if he's found anything useful."

Matthew nodded in agreement as he printed out the long list of names with all the information from the missing persons' report. "All right, let's go."

They made their way to the chilly basement where the morgue was located. The morgue's walls were painted light gray. The gray cement floor shone with a soft glow, reflecting the bright florescent lighting which was also equipped with ultraviolet lights for emergency backup. There was a long wall layered from top to bottom with drawers for the numerous corpses. A small, stainless steel sink was in the middle of the room, right beside two draining holes.

They entered the morgue and saw the pathologist, Marshall Galen, with his six-foot-three, thin frame hunched over the remains of the body they had viewed earlier. He was working with silver tongs and scalpel. His salt and pepper hair needed a trimming, loose curls dropped low, covering his eyes. His thick, black-rimmed glasses were smudged. He was wearing worn brown loafers, gray wrinkled slacks and a long white lab coat over his green buttoned up shirt. Warren thought about Xander and Adrian, about how they would want to drag him away to make-over heaven.

"Yo, doc, you find anything interesting? Anything we can use?" Warren called as they approached the coroner.

Marshall looked at the two officers and the deep sigh he released meant that he did not have good news. Taking his glasses off his face, he pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped the lenses clean. After holding them up to the light, he placed them back on. He looked at the two men again.

"Well, gentleman, there wasn't a whole lot left to this person," he said, gesturing to the five chunks of flesh decomposing on the stainless steel examining table.

"So, can you tell if it was a man or woman? That might give us a pattern we can trace," Matthew inquired.

"Man," Warren said.

Matthew gave him a questioning look. Warren shook his head as if to say, don't ask yet. He looked at the coroner who was looking at him curiously. He shrugged.

"Lucky guess, I suppose. Do you think I'm right, doc?" he asked to cover up his blunder.

Marshall Galen gave him a nod, apparently satisfied with Warren's explanation.

"From the size of the fragment of bone in this piece here ..." He poked a chunk of brutally torn flesh caked with sprinkles of dried blood so Warren and Matthew could see what he meant, "... is pretty thick in circumference, which suggests a male."

Both men nodded. The blood oozed out more as he moved the flesh. Torn muscles and nerves dangled from the boulder of flesh like tentacles. Matthew paled a bit then shifted from one foot to the other. Warren was happy he'd had a full breakfast; his stomach didn't betray him now.

"And furthermore, you see this?" Marshall said, pointing to a dark dryness inside the bone fragment. "This tells me that this body belonged to a mortal man about average height with strong bones, good marrow. Might be why he was chosen ... hmmm, what's this?"

He leaned closer to the table to get a better inspection.

Even though the room temperature was very cold, the smell of the numerous corpses, past and present, filled the area with the thick stench of rotting meat. Warren figured the scent wasn't as strong for human senses. One thing was for certain, he didn't particularly care for the scent of decaying flesh. The smell in the room made it easier for him to control his hunger, that and the fact that he had a full belly.

"Is this what I think it is?" Marshall asked as he looked closely at several strands of silky black fur between his tweezers.

Warren and Matthew moved closer to get a better look. Warren gestured for the tweezers and Marshall held them out. Taking the tweezers from Marshall, he held them up to the light. He turned his back to the coroner so he wouldn't see him smell the fur, taking in the scent. He turned back toward Marshall, returning the fur with the tweezers.

"Well, that just confirms what we thought already. From the way the flesh was torn, it looked like a shifter murder," Matthew said as he walked toward the gray double doors, followed by Warren. "Just fill us in if you find out anything else, Marshall, thanks."

When they stepped outside the morgue, Matthew turned to Warren, wanting to know the answer to the question he couldn't ask until now.

"How did you know it was a man's body?" he asked.

Warren gave him a slight smile.

"I could smell the iron in the blood. It's stronger than the iron in a female's blood stream," he whispered, his smile widening.

"How come you couldn't tell that earlier when we were at the crime scene? The blood was a little fresher then." Matthew whispered back.

Warren sucked air through his teeth, making a 'smacking' sound. He stopped walking, catching the other man's arm to stop him from going any further. He leaned closer to his partner to whisper in his ear.

"Well, at the crime scene, I was focusing too much on controlling my hunger and maintaining my composure to focus my senses. Now, I'm not hungry, the flesh doesn't smell all that appealing and I'm able to concentrate. That's why I wanted to smell the fur he found. I've got a more defined scent now. I don't know how much that's going to help us, but at least it's a fucking start," he whispered.

He didn't want anyone to hear that little bit of information. He knew there were cameras in certain area of the building. The hallway to the morgue was one of those areas. He didn't want to get caught revealing this aspect of his nature.

"You two look like love birds," observed an officer walking down the hallway who had caught Warren invading Matthew's personal space by leaning against his ear like a lover whispering sweet nothings to his mate.

"Well, we're not, asshole. So you can keep walking. Show's over," Warren said as he flipped Officer Ronen the finger.

Ronen held up his hands in defense. His blue eyes widened as he shook his blonde crew-cut head from side to side. "Hey, all's I'm saying is, it looked questionable. What you two do in the privacy of your bedrooms is certainly none of my damn business. I'm just saying, keep that shit in the bedroom where it needs to be," he said jokingly, with a hint of malice.

Those two always seemed a bit sexless to him, never flirting with the female officers in the division or a female, period. He couldn't remember a time when he'd ever heard either of them even talking about fucking a female. He'd just assumed they were both gay since they weren't married or involved.

Both Warren and Matthew rolled their eyes and walked away from Officer Ronen. He watched them walk away, side by side down the hallway. One word formed in his mind and he whispered it through his lips

"Fags."

Warren's ears picked up the insult. His shoulders tensed. He fought the urge to turn around and march right back to that prejudiced son of a bitch and put him in a hurt-lock, before planting his body into the plaster covered cement wall. Instead, he continued to walk away. It would be hard to explain how he'd heard him from more than fifty feet away in the first place. Very hard indeed, especially since superhuman hearing is a standard characteristic of the very being they were trained to police.

"What an asshole!" Warren said as they stepped into the elevator.

Matthew pushed the number two button. The mirrored doors closed, leaving them with their reflections staring back at them.

"Yeah he is, which is why he can't keep a fucking partner longer than six months. No one wants to work with the motherfucker. The partner he's got now has lasted the longest, they might be birds of a feather, ya know. Both assholes," Matthew said.

Both men chuckled as they walked out of the elevator and headed toward their desks to look over the printout on the most recent missing persons.

Chapter Eleven

Sergio lifted his head up lazily, looking at the sun shining brightly through the floor length French windows of his bedroom. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the light, then let his head fall back, face first into the pillows. He was trying to will the sleep out of his body. The angle of the light meant it was late in the afternoon, showing he had slept most of the day away. Rolling over on his back, he stretched the long length of his well-formed body arching up high, releasing the tension in his naturally sculptured muscles. He relaxed, staring at the ceiling, letting his mind wander. His hands rested lightly on his stomach, two fingers playing with the black curling hair trailing from his abdomen to his groin. He lay there, thinking about the night before and what he wanted to say to Elise. He had to figure out a way to make her see him. She needed to be with her own kind. He didn't like Darian, but he respected him for being honest. He knew right away from Darian's behavior that he had never promised Elise the life she fantasized. He had never claimed to love her. Sergio allowed himself to wonder just how good Darian was in bed to have a woman like Elise so enthralled with him. He thought it was safe to say that Elise was ... what do you say when a woman is "pussy whipped"? "Cock slapped," perhaps?

He looked over at the clock, noting that it was 1:45 P.M. He composed himself then crawled out of bed. Feeling the urgency of his needs pressing him, he made his way to the bathroom. Afterward, he turned on the shower, adjusting the water temperature and pressure. He liked the water to hit him hard, it relaxed his muscles and felt like a massage. He climbed inside, bathing and brushing his teeth at the same time. Once he was out of the shower, he wrapped a towel around his narrow waist and made his way toward the closet opening the double door. He slid his wardrobe, consisting mostly of t-shirts and jeans, side to side on the rod, looking for something comfortable to wear, like a track suit. He would really have to go shopping soon, this was getting ridiculous.

He settled on a pair of black jeans and a red v-neck t-shirt and dressed quickly. He checked his outfit in the mirror giving himself the once-over. He looked down and adjusted "the boys" making sure they were comfortable. He never wore underwear. He enjoyed being free, so to speak. Many of the female leopards had chosen him when they were in heat. Not only was he well equipped, he knew how to brandish his sword. He wanted to show Elise, more than anyone, that he could contend with the best of them, even Darian.

Satisfied with his appearance, he decided it was time to find Elise. He walked across the black carpeted floor past his king-sized bed, through the double doors and into the active hallway. Two members of the Pride were walking past, talking about movies they had seen at the theater, which movie they were going to see at the theater and which movies that should never have been made. The hallway was brightly lit with crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The floor was covered with beige carpeting all the way down the stairs. The carpet ended at the main floor where it met the beige and white marble tile. The entire room was decorated with cream and tan French furniture with wood trim.

Elise loved the craftsmanship of the French, since she was French herself. She would go out of her way to obtain the most exquisite and rare pieces of furniture she could find, the best money could buy. She would pay craftsmen to design all types of furniture, just for her. She was a fan of art and adored the works of several French painters and sculptors. Many of the walls were decorated with their paintings. She had marble statues decorating the hallways and main parlor. The Pride enjoyed her famed sense of taste in both fashion and furnishings. There were times the more masculine of the Pride, such as Sergio, thought the house was just too feminine and needed to be toned down.

Elise resented having to remove even the smallest bit of furniture to appease the other Pride members, but it was her duty. Her role was to keep the Pride together and take care of them. So as it was, she had to make their living quarters bearable for all. Pity. Sergio once made her get rid of a pink fountain that she had installed in the main parlor. The fountain had several naked cherubs floating on clouds, surrounding and looking adoringly at a life-sized replica of Elise, herself, carved in alabaster. Sergio had declared it was "over the top" and "in the way" to say the very least. She protested, but was finally outvoted by everyone in the Pride. Thus, the fountain now adorned the garden patio.

He made his way to the kitchen to satisfy the hunger raging inside him. Sleeping the day away had its perks and punishments. Poking his head inside the den, he said hello to Pride members in the room. Some lay stretched out on the soft, thick, brown carpeted floor or divans as they watched TV, others wrestled with each other playfully or napped. When he reached the kitchen, he headed straight for the refrigerator. The kitchen itself was state-of-the-art, a master chef's dream. Everything, from microwaves to the electric stove top, separate broiler, oven, and roaster were built-in. The refrigerator was built into one wall and wooden cabinets covered the other three walls. Sergio opened the refrigerator, searching for something quick to fix and good to eat. He spotted the lunch meat, cheese, milk and fruit. He pulled it all out, making himself two triple-decker sandwiches stacked with several thick slices of chicken, turkey and beef lunch meat. He added three slices of cheese per sandwich, with lettuce, tomatoes, onions, green peppers, mustard and mayonnaise. He filled a twenty ounce glass with whole milk, grabbed a pear and apple from the package, and headed into the den to eat his meal.

As he entered the den, four pair of eyes looked up at him, two of them silently begging for just a small taste. Sergio threw them a stern glare, sat down in a comfortable, tan recliner and began eating the first of his sandwiches. He glanced up to see what was playing on the television. Although it was a rerun of the Dave Lappelle Show someone had recorded, it was a new episode to him. He enjoyed the variety comedy show, liked the daring comedian whom the show was named for. Laughter erupted from everyone in the room as a sketch played out. Right away, he knew either Devin or Arianna had recorded this show as it was their favorite.

"Can I have some?" asked the greedy fifteen year old human of the Pride.

It was Sebastian, Sergio's son. He wasn't a full-fledged leopard yet, he hadn't come of age. When he hit maturity, he would experience his first change, which would be complete, marking him as an adult. As it stood now, his senses were more acute than any human his age. His speed was faster, but not abnormally so, as was his strength. He stood five foot four, fair skinned with freckles sprinkled over his cheeks, arms and legs. He was wearing a pair of cutoff shorts and a wrestling t-shirt featuring several of his favorite wrestlers. He brushed dark red bangs away from his gray eyes as he focused on the sandwich as it went toward Sergio's mouth.

"I was waiting for one of you cats to start begging for my food." Sergio chuckled. "No, no and no! No one can have a piece or just a little bite or a taste, none of that! If you're hungry, there's plenty left, make yourselves a sandwich just like this one," he said in a firm tone to the entire room in his thick Italian accent, hoping he got the message across that he was far too hungry to share.

There were a few disappointed looks from the potential beggars.

"Dang, Dad!" Sebastian exclaimed as he rose to make himself a sandwich.

He knew his father was the dominant male in the Pride but sometimes he thought he was too possessive, he could have given him a bite. Two more rose and walked out of the room. They all returned ten minutes later with two huge sandwiches apiece. Sergio chuckled to himself. Why is it people only seem to want something when someone else wants or has it first?

He rose from the chair and stretched again. It felt great to him to tense then relax his muscles. He felt like going for a run. After his talk with Elise, he may do just that. He was dreading the talk he had to have with her. She had a way of tuning out the things she didn't want to hear when she was in one of her foul moods. In the height of her manipulation, she'd make excuses for things she wanted to do or had done, trying to get people to see things her way. It was a quality she possessed that sometimes irked Sergio when he or the other Pride members were at the receiving end of it. On the other hand, when she used her skills against an enemy, it came in handy. Nevertheless, he wasn't going to see things her way on this day. Not about the issues he needed to discuss. He left the den heading for her bedroom, hoping she was still there.

He knocked on her bedroom door. When there was no answer, he wondered if she was still asleep or just ignoring him. He knew she could smell him outside her door, because he could smell her. He wondered if she was still sulking about Darian's dismissal from the night before. He would be if it were him. He wanted her to understand a dismissal was something she would never get from him. He knocked harder and waited ... no response.

"Elise, let me in," he called.

There was no response.

"Elise, I'm coming in," he said as he opened the door and saw her lying on the bed, not even pretending to be asleep.

He sat on the edge of the satin and lace covered bed looking down at her. He brushed the brown bangs from her beautiful aqua-green eyes. He knew why she was depressed. Part of him was happy that she had gotten to see for herself the true affection the vampire had for her. She meant nothing to the bloodsucker. The other part of him wanted to rip the vampire limb from limb. Darian had hurt her feelings and for that, he wanted to kill him, even if he was already dead.

"Elise, please tell me you're not sitting in this room, sulking over him. Fuck him! Baby, I'm here for you, always ... always."

He stroked her cheek softly with the back of his fingers. Her eyes settled on his but she didn't move. He fought the urge to grab her and shake her. He wanted to slap her face to bring her out of this stupor, even if it meant getting the shit beat out of him afterward. Elise was stronger than him physically, now he wanted her to be stronger than him in spirit. She was the Queen of the Pride; her crown was a heavy load to carry.

"Elise, come run with me, right now. It would make you feel better, get your mind off of things you don't need to be worried about. Come on, I'm not opposed to pulling you out of this bed," he said as he stood up, holding her hand lightly in his.

He looked down at her and smiled.

"Come on," he urged.

He tugged a little on her hand, pulling it toward him, lifting her slightly from the bed. She groaned and tried to pull her hand free, but his grip tightened. She didn't fight when he reached down, scooped her into his arms effortlessly, plucking her out of the bed. He knew she had a penchant for being ... well ... melodramatic.

He looked into her eyes and smiled. His gaze lingered on the aqua green of her eyes, then to her full shaped lips. He leaned forward and kissed the tip of her slender nose. His gaze traveled over her complete form, he tried hard not to smile at her nakedness, but failed. He couldn't help it. Normally, it didn't bother him to look at the others naked, but it was her he desired. The things I would do to that flesh, if she would only let me, would blow her mind, he mused. He led her out of the ultra-feminine bedroom with the lace curtains, satin and lace bedspread and pink satin sheets, into the hall.

"I was going to go running alone to get some exercise, but it'll be way more fun if we go together," he said as he led her to the back of the house.

He opened the door onto the huge piece of land they owned. Elise had bought the mansion because of two things: the many bedrooms and the large private forest behind it. It made for safe hunting, never having to leave the grounds. They stepped outside, the cold freezing winds of the winter didn't affect them, and their bodies could acclimate to almost any temperature. Sergio ran off first, hoping Elise would give in to the temptation to chase him. It worked. The more she ran, the more she began to enjoy herself and grow into a more playful mood.

She caught up with him in a patch of bushes and pounced on his back. They both tumbled to the grass, rolling over several times with Sergio ending up on top, just as he had planned. His legs were tangled with hers, his elbows resting on the ground beside her head. Sergio gazed at her; he wanted to swim in the deep ocean of her eyes, to be lost there forever. The moment froze between them and their heads gravitated towards one another, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss. Sergio's tongue entered her mouth and delicately brushed hers. This kiss lingered for a few moments and they ended it with two soft pecks.

Sergio rolled away from her, rising to his feet. He grabbed the bottom of his shirt and slowly slid it over his head, making sure she could see the muscles of his torso flex with each movement. He pulled it off, tossed it aside and looked down at her. She laid on her side, legs folded together, bent slightly, ankles crossed, hands resting on the grass. She gazed at his body. She had always loved his light olive complexion. She wanted to run her hands over the smoothness of his flesh, to feel the heat rise from it. She wondered what his body would feel like if they made love. What the weight of his body would feel like against hers, the sensation of his powerful muscles constricting beneath his delicious skin. The very thought of him between her legs sent tingles through her body and a pleasant chill ran down her back. She shook the fantasy from her mind; lest Sergio would catch on and no doubt try to capitalize, catching her at a vulnerable moment. He was that way, Mr. Opportunity.

Sergio sensed the arousal rising from Elise, even though she made attempts to conceal it. Seizing the moment, he undid the button of his jeans, rolling the zipper down slowly and parted the flaps to show a tuft of his dark, curling pubic hair. He watched her expression as every part of him was slowly revealed. He tugged on the waistband of his jeans and slowly slid them down to his feet. He pulled off his shoes and threw them aside. He stepped out of the jeans, picked them up, and tossed them onto the pile with his shirt and shoes. He stood before her completely naked, erect. His body temperature had risen; his skin had darkened with lust.

Her body was reacting to him. Her nipples had hardened and she felt wetness between her legs, which she knew he could smell. Her heartbeat had become rapid. She crawled to all fours and began her change. She mentally prepared for the amount of pain the change always brought, the excruciating pain that was almost crippling.

Sergio dropped down beside her, willing his change to take place. He growled low in his throat, feeling his body temperature rise to a fever pitch. Sweat poured from his pores, the skin began to tingle and vibrate. He grimaced in pain as he looked at Elise, who was almost through with her change. Her body was fully covered with black fur. Her nose had turned into a snout, her whiskers continued to grow to their full length of four inches. Her mouth filled with razor sharp teeth, her canines two inches in length, and as sharp as daggers.

Sergio pushed in change into full effect and it took him a few moments to complete his transformation. Black fur began to sprout from pores all over his body, he could feel his insides churn and constrict, his intestines reformed themselves to mold with his new form. He could feel nothing but pain as his mouth and nose compressed together and fur covered his face. His teeth grew from his gums, becoming sharper and longer. He felt the bones break, muscles reforming in an instant to accommodate his animal counterpart. A long, fur covered tail sprouted from his tailbone. His hands grew wider, fingers receding, turning into paws. His nails turned black then grew into thick, strong, three-inch claws, that retracted into their sheaths. He could feel his whiskers grow five inches from his cheeks and eyebrows.

With his change now complete, he shook himself all over, from head to tail. They stood side by side, their sleek, black bodies rubbing against each other. She was three and a half feet tall, while he was four feet in height, a full sixty pounds heavier than she was. Fully changed, a shape-shifter leopard could weigh anywhere from two hundred pounds to three hundred pounds. In rare cases, one could weigh up to four hundred pounds. Elise turned to him and licked the side of his face. He returned her love by brushing his body alongside hers and rubbing his head down her neck. She growled low into his ear and licked the inner shell.

His head tilted towards her as he growled softly before pulling away from her, running after a white rabbit. The change had taken a lot of energy and he was hungry again. The rabbit ran as fast as it could but Sergio closed in on the hare, catching it by the back of its neck. He shook it twice in his powerful grip, breaking the tiny bones in the rabbit's neck. Its feet jerked three times, before going limp in his mouth.

Walking back to Elise, he knew she was hungry as well. He dropped the dead rabbit at her feet, and licked her muzzle, one side then the other. She leaned toward the dead rabbit, sniffing it. She pawed it then held it to the ground. Elise bit into the rabbit's furry back, ripping at the flesh, tearing it from the bone. Blood spurted from the wound as she ripped the flesh, swallowing it in one gulp. Sergio went off to find a meal for himself as Elise ate. He caught another rabbit, brought it over by Elise and began eating. When she finished with her rabbit, she snatched the remains of his from his grip and ran off to eat the rest. He chased her, stopping as he saw her ripping at the meat.

He walked behind her and stuck his nose into her crotch. She batted him with her paw, hooking her claws in the fur on his head and dragging him to the ground. They wrestled and rolled around on the ground. He stood up first, grabbed his rabbit and ran off to eat the rest. Elise let him eat in peace.

After he finished his meal, he walked back to Elise, sticking his nose against her crotch again. He could tell she was coming into heat. In the past, she wouldn't give herself to him for mating. She would allow him to grind against her as his fingers played with her, but it never went past making out. He wanted so much more. He licked her crotch and sniffed again. She pawed his head away and lay on her side on the grass. He walked around her one time then laid next to her, resting his head on her ribcage. They drifted off to sleep under the late afternoon sun. Three hours passed before they woke up.

Sergio woke first, raised his head and licked Elise's muzzle several times, cleaning the blood away from her face. He stood up and stretched his huge feline body, arching his back completely. He would love to go hunting now that the sun was down, but he wasn't hungry. He really wanted to talk to Elise, He had postponed the talk earlier because she was upset, but he didn't forget that he wanted to have it. He willed himself back into human form. The process reversed was much faster but no less painful. Elise saw that he had changed back so she followed suit. They sat on the grass, panting and sweating. He spoke first when he was more composed.

"Elise, this Pride, it needs a protector. It needs its king, and you, you need a mate."

He leaned closer to her, their cheeks brushing. His hands encircled her waist, pulling her closer to him. A low lust-filled growl vibrated from his throat.

"Can't you see ... look at me." He stepped back, taking her chin into his hand guiding her face to his. His eyes stared deeply into hers. "Look at me," he whispered sensually.

She looked into his beautiful gray eyes and raised her hand, running her fingers lightly through his black silky curls. Her fingertips trailed over his muscular jaw line. She was looking at him in a different way, in a way she had never allowed herself before. There was something about Sergio that enticed her, but it was that same attribute that frightened her.

"I am your mate, Elise. Don't push me away, don't deny us. Together, we could care for this Pride. I have fought to maintain my position, I am the most dominant male. It is my duty to protect the Pride. It is my honor! Elise, the Pride should not be only yours to deal with. I love you, Elise ... look at me."

He forced her eyes to focus on him once more. She had looked away, trying to hide the emotions that were playing on her face. Emotions that were dangerously close to giving into Sergio.

"I am all the man, the only man that you will ever need."

Sergio let her go, looking at her. He wondered what she was thinking as she was very adept at masking her emotions. She sat there quietly for a long time. He watched her, never moving.

"It is true," Elise began. "The Pride needs its protector, more than what I can provide. When Adam died, I became the sole caretaker of the Pride. I didn't want to share that power. In a way, I still don't. I know my limitations, they are few but I know them. I will name you my King, the Pride's protector. You will be honored as such," she said as she rose to her feet, brushing the grass off of her legs.

He looked up at her; he felt that she was forgetting the most important thing.

"And what about us, Elise?" he asked.

"There is no us. You are our protector, our King and nothing more," she said harshly.

She wanted to embrace the anger. She didn't want to share her power with anyone. She controlled the Pride but she could no longer deny the benefits of having a king. If she gave some of the power of the Pride to Sergio, it would allow her more time to be with Darian. There were always two sides to every coin. She looked at Sergio, knowing she didn't say what he wanted to hear. She felt he couldn't compete with Darian. She couldn't remember any man in her past that could.

"Have you listened to anything I've just said?" Sergio asked, obviously holding in his anger and frustration.

He slowly lifted his head to look at her.

"'I've heard what you said. I've felt your seduction but you cannot compete with him, we are lovers and you have to accept that," she said matter-of-factly.

Sergio's face twisted with rage and frustration but he calmed himself before he lost his temper completely. After a few deep breaths, he laughed. But it wasn't the laugh born from joy. This particular laugh was laced with anger and disappointment. He shook his head in amazement.

"Unbelievable, un-fucking-believable. How can you be so beautiful, yet so ..." his voice trailed off, he didn't want to say anything he would regret.

He stood up and looked at her. He could show her better than he could tell her, if need be. He wanted to pump the poison from her veins, the poison being her blind lust for Darian. He grabbed her by the back of her head with a speed no mortal could have seen and planted a kiss on her lips, forcefully, passionately. He radiated desire and heat. His other hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to him, pressing her body against his, their hearts beating frantically in their chests. His tongue explored the sensuous heat of her mouth, his lips working expertly over hers. He could feel her knees go weak, and he held her still.

When he pulled away, her eyes opened slowly, lips still slightly parted. His gaze never left hers. He peered into her eyes, unafraid, unashamed. He would show her what she was missing. He leaned down to her, his tongue darting out to lick along the inner shell of her ear, sending tingles down her spine. Her knees buckled and he held her still. His lips sought her lobe and sucked gently as his tongue licked along the rim. A small whimper escaped her lips.

"I can make you tremble anytime I want. All I have to do is kiss you ..."

He leaned toward her mouth, brushed his lips against hers in a soft kiss.

"Lick you ..."

The tip of his tongue teased her bottom lip seductively.

"Touch you," he whispered seductively, his thick Italian accent sent the words rolling over the surface of her skin as sweet as honey, bringing up goose bumps.

His hands slid further down, past her buttocks, between her legs. His fingers explored the soft wetness there, causing her to gasp in pleasure. Hearing her gasp, he let go of her. She stumbled, but didn't fall. She watched him lustfully, yet very confused.

He brought his fingers to his nose, inhaling her scent; his eyes closed savoring her natural perfume. He licked away the sticky wetness with a satisfied moan before opening his eyes.

"Delicious," he whispered sensuously as he turned and walked back toward the house.

He stopped in front of the back door.

"I suppose we should tell them about my becoming King so we can plan the celebration."

He was watching her from across the courtyard.

She pushed herself from her daze as she gathered her emotions. She had to take in what had just happened. What had just happened? Her mind raced with random thoughts about Darian, Sergio and herself and the choice Sergio wanted her to make. She decided she couldn't think about that right now and walked back toward the house.

Both entered and she told Marianne to gather everyone for a big announcement. Marianne did as she was told. In moments, everyone, all twelve leopards, sat in the parlor. She had fetched her bathrobe and put it on. Sergio stood before the others still naked. His nakedness distracted her. She wanted to tell him to put some clothes on but nakedness wasn't a taboo among shifters. They saw each other naked all the time. To ask someone to put on clothes would have been rude and demeaning.

"I've gathered you all here to tell you great news," she announced, pausing dramatically.

Everyone watched and waited expectantly for the news.

"I have picked our King, our Protector, Sergio."

Everyone applauded. The Pride was made up of four males and eight adult females.

"It's about time," said Devin as he walked up to Sergio to congratulate him. "Does this mean you have picked Sergio as your mate Elise?!" he asked excitedly.

Everyone was hoping for a positive answer. No one approved of her sleeping with a vampire, and on his terms. They wanted her to choose a mate within the Pride. After all, she was the Queen.

"No, he is not my mate but he is our King. You will treat him as such. Prepare for tonight's inauguration and celebration," she said as she turned to leave, not wanting to see disappointment in their eyes.

Sergio watched her walk away. He had lost the battle, but not the war. He turned to face those who were still congratulating him. He winked at Devin as he thought about turning up the heat on Elise. Round one goes to Elise, let's see where round two ends up.

Chapter Twelve

Xavier's eyes opened suddenly in the pitch-black darkness of the room. He blinked once, then twice as he gathered his senses, focusing on the crystal chandelier hanging over the king-sized bed. He turned his head to the right to see that Darian, his extremely gorgeous vampire lover and master, was still being lazy, lingering in the bed with his eyes closed. He rolled onto his side, facing Darian before poking him in the arm.

"Get up! I know you're not asleep. It's way past sunset," he said teasingly.

Darian smiled then chuckled. He turned his head to face Xavier, his hand coming up to lightly stroke the side of his cheek, caressing the soft skin with his fingertips.

"Aren't I allowed to daydream?" he asked, his eyebrows rose slightly.

"What were you daydreaming about, if I may be so bold as to ask?"

Xavier propped himself on his right elbow.

"I was thinking of repainting this room and maybe a little more. It's been this design for ten years, I need a change. You know how I am about redecorating. I was thinking of adding a forty-eight inch screen TV, there."

He pointed to the wall facing the bed with a painting of the Chicago Fire on it.

"I want to have it constructed so that the TV will be built into the wall and the wall would have double panels that slide back to reveal it when we wanted to watch it."

He glanced at Xavier for a response.

Xavier lay there, dumbfounded. For a moment, he had expected when he asked the question, Darian would make some profound statement of enlightenment or something along those lines. But there he was, talking about redecorating their bedroom.

"I think that would be nice. After we make love, I could turn on the sports channel for the climax," he teased as he crawled out of the bed, flipping on the light switch for the chandelier.

Darian gave him a knowing look.

"Very funny. After we make love, you won't be able to do anything but close your eyes and drift off to sleep, like always, having sweet dreams about me, my little audacious inamorato."

He sighed lazily. "So, I take it you like my ideas. I think I'll call a contractor, and have him come over right away."

He folded his arms behind his head, showing off his strong biceps and triceps. He rested his head on his arms and turned to watch Xavier enter the bathroom. One minute later, he heard the shower running.

"Are you going to the club tonight?"

"Yes, but first, I'm going to the hospital," replied Xavier as he climbed into the shower.

"Why?" Darian asked, as he sat up in the bed.

"Well, Annette, our new day manager was injured last night. Some of our humans saw her get into a cab with a friend of hers. Apparently, they were involved in an accident where their cab was rear-ended by a drunk driver. They said that ambulances took Annette and her friend away. The drivers of both cars didn't survive. Since the cab collided into a tree after being rear-ended, I'm surprised they're not dead as well," he said as he lathered his body all over, massaging the foaming suds into his skin for fragrance.

"Mortals are so fragile," Darian said lazily as he lay back on the bed, looking at his hands as he held them in front of him. "I could crush one in my hands as easily as one would squeeze a marshmallow."

He climbed out of the bed, walking into the bathroom. His forest-green gaze studied his lover lustfully as the water cascaded down the length of his body carrying the suds with it. He had intentions of caressing that body later on that night. He imagined his mouth and hands working skillfully to bring his lover to the height of pleasure. He would have done it right then, but he didn't want him to miss the hospital visiting hours. He pushed his lusty thoughts away, saving them for later.

"Well, if you're going to visit our dear Annette, give her my love and regards. It is quite a shame we could not make our rendezvous tonight. Give her my well wishes for a speedy recovery. Inform her we will have a temporary replacement for her position, until she can return, of course. Also, give her a bouquet of flowers to express my heartfelt sincerity at the thought of missing our date," Darian instructed nonchalantly as he leaned against the door frame.

His powerful pale arms crossed over his broad, equally pale chest.

"I'll make sure to put a little more emotion into those words than you did when I tell her," Xavier teased.

"What?" Darian asked, shrugging, not really seeing the problem.

Xavier shook his head at Darian's causal callousness. "I take it she was going to be a part of this threesome you wanted tonight. Am I right?" he asked, changing the subject.

Darian nodded. "Of course. I wanted to sample her last night before I was so rudely interrupted," he said sarcastically.

He turned and made his way back to the bedroom.

"I need to feed. I think I'll go hunting tonight before I go to Desires Unleashed. It really is unfortunate that you'll be too busy consoling hospital patients to join me. Maybe next time." He chuckled suavely.

Xavier emerged from the bathroom, a light blue towel wrapped around his pale waist. He felt the pangs of hunger gnawing at his stomach and knew it would only grow more ferocious the longer he went without blood. His entire body thirsted. He couldn't deny himself blood, not even for one night. He was still too young to play the starvation game. Old ones, like Darian, could go at least five nights in a row, until the need forced them to feed the hunger. He went to his closet, searching his bounty of clothes for a nice, sleek ensemble. He settled for a hunter green, buttoned shirt and black boot-cut jeans, which where his favorite style. He loved the way the boot cut denim made his already impressive leg length look even longer. He also loved the way his buttocks looked in his jeans. He put on the outfit and pulled on a pair of black steel-toed boots, lacing them up as he sat in a straight backed, black, soft leather chair beside the bed.

Darian watched him dress; admiring the way Xavier looked in that style of jeans. He delighted in watching him walk away, enjoying the way his buttocks moved up and down with each step. He thought Xavier had the body of an Adonis. Smooth, strong, slim and muscular, his manhood was impressive enough but it was the total package which had caught Darian's eye. Xavier was beautiful and beauty should last forever as far as he was concerned.

He had wasted little time turning Xavier the night he found him lying on the ground, dying. He had been shot and left for dead by one of Al Cantone's goons. Xavier had been trying to get into the close-knit gang for years. But all he had become was an errand boy, then target practice over some numbers which had gotten misplaced, or so that was the reason given at the time.

Darian remembered vividly how he'd walked up to the prone, bleeding body of Xavier and knelt over him. He had looked into that beautiful face and stunning gray eyes had stared back at him, pleading for help. Full, sensuous lips parted to beg for him to save his life. Darian had been without a real companion for two hundred years and he liked the idea of having one as beautiful as Xavier by his side, under his wing. He had his coven, but he wanted more.

He had lifted Xavier's head off of the cold, wet cobblestone street. Pulling back the high collar on Xavier's brown jacket to reveal the slow, pulsing vein, he buried his face into the crook of Xavier's neck, without hesitation. His fangs pierced the pale skin, which caused the man to gasp. He drank the blood slowly from Xavier, draining him enough to bring him to the point of death, so he could be reborn. Withdrawing his fangs, Darian looked down at the face of the young man who would soon belong to him. Xavier's eyes were half closed, only a hint of whiteness showed underneath the pale lids.

Sinking his fangs into the blue artery in his own wrist, Darian had lowered his wrist to Xavier's open mouth then he'd whispered one simple phrase: "Drink from me and you shall live forever and ever, my beautiful one."

Xavier had no idea what he'd meant, but he had been willing to try anything at that point in time. Pressing his cold, bluish lips to the hot bleeding wound, he'd begun to suck gently. At first, he had been shocked and appalled to be drinking blood from a man's wrist. Then all that had seemed to fade away as his eyes closed. The blood and its delicious flavor and sensation filled his body, reinventing all that was dying away. His body had tingled with wondrous, orgasmic feelings he had received with each swallow. His limbs were being infused with a new kind of strength, one that few would dare to challenge. He reached for Darian's wrist holding it closer to his mouth with all the strength he was gaining. Low moans had escaped them both, one from pleasure and the other from pain. They'd seemed to swoon as their union solidified, binding the two men together forever. Darian felt his own life draining through his veins the longer he fed Xavier, which had left him feeling cold, weak, lightheaded and sick.

The point had come when Darian had to pull away, snatching his wrist from Xavier's hungry, bloody mouth. In a weakened, dizzying haze, he fell back against the cobblestone street, holding his wrist. After a few seconds, his vision began to clear and he bit his own tongue, running the tip of his tongue over his injured wrist, healing it instantly. Xavier had sat up, eyes glazed over, glassy. His tongue had run along his lips smoothly, licking away all the spilt blood. A tremor had shivered through his body and he closed his eyes, savoring the last drop. Then he opened them, looking at Darian. His sight had changed, it had become sharper. He could see his Master's features much more clearly. Instantly, he felt a connection to Darian, a mental and physical one. He knew then that he would never lust after the power of Al Cantone. He had found a higher power ... a more promising one.

Darian had held his hand out to Xavier, who took it and had secretly vowed to never let Darian go. That had been over seventy years ago. This wasn't the longest relationship Darian had ever had, however, it was his most precious one. Xavier didn't try to control him or change him. Xavier understood him, better than any of his other offspring. Xavier understood and accepted his jaded personality. He knew that he had been alive a long time, had probably seen dynasties rise and fall, so that very little surprised him.

He also knew that Darian would never be monogamous. Xavier understood that, he would never ask that of him. Darian was a free spirit, a lover of both men and women. He could not be contained, nor would he try to contain any of his lovers. Xavier enjoyed the nights they spent together. He'd also learned to enjoy the nights they spent sharing their bed with others.

"I'll see you later. I haven't forgotten what we 'discussed' yesterday, when you left me ... hanging," Xavier said as he pulled on his soft, dark-brown leather bomber jacket.

The sound of his voice brought Darian out of his reverie, and he smiled at Xavier.

"Ah yes, that is unfinished business, isn't it? You know, technically, I did not leave you 'hanging' as you've stated. You were more in an upright position, if I remember correctly."

Xavier chuckled. "You know you're a piece of work. And yeah, your ancient memory is serving you correctly."

Darian chuckled softly, remembering the shocked and dissatisfied expression on Xavier's face when he had ceased his seduction.

"I'll be at the club. Tonight is the second night of the tournament. Speaking of the tournament, thanks to you, I lost one million dollars," he said playfully, but slightly disappointed.

"Me? Well, you're the man who can 'see them coming'. Wow, you lost a bet. Oh my!" Xavier mocked as he placed his hand over his heart, pretending to stumble toward the door.

Darian laughed as he clapped his hands.

"Bravo, what an award-winning performance."

"I'm too scared to ask in which category," Xavier said with a chuckle. "I'm still shocked you lost!"

"Yes, me too, I didn't see last night's match coming. Last night was full of surprises. But you'd better leave now if you want to make it to the hospital in time. I'll see you tonight," he said throatily, sprawling on the bed, giving Xavier a desire-filled look. Forest-green eyes glazing over with lust, his hand stroked the satin sheets in front of him.

"Try not to keep me waiting too long," he whispered seductively.

That oh-so-sexy voice made Xavier want to forget about the hospital and just climb back into the bed, work and giving well wishes be damned. He knew he had better leave now or he wouldn't be going anywhere. He nodded, turned and left the room. He crossed paths with a fledgling that belonged to a fellow vampire. Darian had seven vampires residing with him. He didn't mind a coven; he swore protection to all vampires in his territory who asked for it and some he favored over others. These few he allowed to stay with him in his home ... as long as they obeyed his rules, of course.

His rules varied slightly from those he had for his city territory in general. No killing on his territory of any mortal without his permission was the first and most important rule. If this rule was broken, on one of Darian's good nights, he would cast the guilty party out of the city. On a bad night, he would cast them out of existence.

Rule number two was to respect what was his. Darian had plenty of expensive artwork, sculptures and furniture throughout the mansion. At no point did he ever want to see any of his belongings damaged or ruined. Breaking rule number two would most definitely get the foolish one kicked out of the house. But at least he or she would get to stay in the city. Rule number three was no stealing. If found breaking this rule, it would mean death to the perpetrator.

Other than that, the atmosphere of the house was laid back and entertaining. Darian hated only one thing, being bored. So he found plenty of ways to stay entertained by the mortal world. He enjoyed their entertainment and technology among other things. He'd decked his house in both forms. Becoming a technophile meant that every time something technical or entertaining was created or updated, he would obtain it. Money was no object when it came to Darian getting what he wanted.

Xavier looked at the fledgling that was obviously running late for work. He was new to the city, Tony's lover and fledgling, the latter being of the past three months. He stripped at the club as a way to pay Darian back for his hospitality. If one were to appeal to Darian's good nature, he required absolute gratitude for any he'd bestowed. All vampires who had come to him for protection, even those that didn't live with him, were put to work at his hot nightclub, Desires Unleashed or one of his other businesses.

At the club, some tended bar, mesmerizing foolish mortals who wanted to get a closer look at the sharks. Others stripped or provided sexual pleasure in his bordello. There was only one section of the club the vampires hated: the "Coliseum". They didn't hate it because of the violence and blood. They were leery of it. It was no secret that vampires, who broke Darian's rules, would be pitted against one another in a tournament. Whoever won would be allowed to leave his city with their life. It would prove his point to other would-be rule-breakers, as well as bringing in double the money of normal tournaments. For Darian, it was a win/win situation.

"You're running late I see. Since you're already late, come here."

Xavier gestured for the young vampire to come to him.

Gary walked toward him. His long, shoulder length, blonde hair bounced with each step. His blue eyes brightened the closer he came. He knew that Xavier was Darian's lover and right hand man. He hoped that Xavier wanted to have sex, he had had an attraction for Xavier from the moment he'd seen him in Darian's office when he had accompanied Tony to ask for permission to be turned. To tell the truth, he had a thing for both Darian and Xavier. His tight leather pants didn't allow enough room for a full stride. Xavier smiled as he came closer, looking through the see-through shirt displaying his erect nipples. He knew of Gary's attraction for him. Tonight, he would kill two birds with one stone. He would feed that attraction and his hunger simultaneously.

When the young, blonde reached him, Xavier grabbed him by the shoulders, holding him firmly in his grip. He leaned closer, brushing his lips softly over Gary's. He let Gary lean into him, settling his weight against his chest, wrapping his arms around his waist. Xavier's right hand came to Gary's chin turning his head to the side to reveal the pulsating vein in his neck.

Xavier leaned forward, tilting his head, feeling his fangs extending, he placed his mouth over the vein and sank his teeth through the warm, tender flesh. He heard Gary gasp and felt his grip tighten around his waist. He closed his mouth over the hot blood flowing out of the wounds, sucking the delicious blood from Gary's veins.

Gary moaned loudly, his grip becoming weaker as his body trembled with ecstasy. His orgasm began to build deep within him. He felt it gather itself up from the base of his feet as Xavier continued to feed. He felt it grow, becoming more powerful. Xavier continued to feed until a hoarse moan escaped Gary's throat as his whole body exploded with pleasure, the indescribable kind. Xavier's own moans were muffled by Gary's flesh as they shared the dry orgasm. Both of their bodies shook with the climax that always came with the sharing of blood between supernaturals.

It was highly pleasurable to share blood with a mortal, but never climactic. A mortal would never survive long enough to bring a vampire to climax on blood alone. Most mortals were bitten during the height of sexual gratification so that the climax would be more intense for both mortal and vampire. It also worked that way if it was only between vampires sharing blood. Xavier released Gary's vein, retracting his teeth. He licked his lips, catching the blood that had spilt while he feasted. He gazed into Gary's eyes. They were glazed over, the look of an addict who had just gotten the hit of a lifetime.

He steadied Gary.

"Are you okay? Can you stand?" he asked with concern.

Gary's mouth moved but no sound came out. So he just nodded weakly. Xavier chuckled and let him go.

"Good, take the night off, get something to eat and rest, I'll find your replacement," he said as he walked to the door.

Reaching the garage, he opened the door. It was packed wall to wall with sports cars, luxury sedans, motorcycles and huge towering SUVs. Xavier set his sights on a silver, sleek two-door Boa 300s Series. He went to the key locker, pulled out the correct key and climbed into the comfortable, black leather interior of the car. Turning the ignition, he smiled as he heard the soft purr of the engine. The dashboard navigation panel lit up the multicolored buttons and knobs.

"Almost as good as any woman," he commented as he put the car into gear, drove out of the garage and then down the curving driveway.

He hit the side street, taking quick peeks at the various mansions on the block, only a few acres of land separating each one. He was glad to be living the high life with Darian. He never wanted it to end. He drove to the highway, entering the I-90 toward the direction of the hospital where Annette was recuperating. The tall, white, five story building was as wide as two city blocks. He pulled into the parking lot for visitors only. Unfolding his tall frame, he extricated himself from the tiny sports car, adjusted his clothing and headed toward the main entrance.

The woman behind the main desk looked up when she heard the little bell chime as Xavier walked through the automatic sliding doors carrying a bouquet of pink lilies. Her smile brightened when she saw the devastatingly handsome man walking closer to her. She fiddled with the collar of her dress but didn't want her primping to be too obvious.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked, letting her eyes do her flirting for her as she batted them in his direction.

"Ah yes, I'm here to visit a friend who is a patient of yours, one Miss Annette Balfour. Can you tell me which room she's in?"

He flashed his most charming smile and her face reddened. She instantly wished the gorgeous flowers in the crystal glass vase were for her and he was her knight in shining armor coming to sweep her off her sore feet and carry her out of the grueling rat race. She cast aside the thought, chiding herself for her foolish fantasy and pulled the room number by looking up the last name in the directory. She turned to face him again and smiled.

"She is in room 314, sir. Is there anything else ... I can do for you?" she asked imploringly.

He gave her one of his most smoldering expressions. The one that could set off fire alarms and was guaranteed to give her sweet dreams.

"I think that's all I'll need ... for now," he said, giving her a devilish grin as he walked toward the elevators.

He stepped in, pressed the number three button and watched as the metal doors closed in front of him. He waited patiently for the ride to end. At the sound of a tiny bell the doors opened, indicating that he was on the third level. Using the room number signs to navigate, he found room 314 and knocked politely on the door. He waited till he heard a soft, female voice bid him entrance. Opening the door, he entered the room, holding the flowers out before him.

Annette's face brightened at the sight of him. She thought it was sweet that one of her bosses would visit her in the hospital and bring her flowers. She had already been visited by her mother and father. They had fussed over her until she told them to go home and not to worry. Then two of her coworkers had visited, bearing outside food, which she was grateful for. Hospital food just wasn't doing it for her.

She was worried about Natasha though; she hadn't seen or heard anything about her friend all day. It made her wonder just how serious the other woman's injuries had been regardless of what she had been told. She had been informed that Natasha was resting and that she wasn't badly injured. That was the only thing keeping her from searching the hospital for her friend. But if she didn't hear from her soon, she'd do just that before the night was out.

But for now, she'd turn her attention to Xavier. She immediately remembered the date she had made with Darian and instantly regretted being confined to a hospital bed. She knew by the way that man kissed that he could, no doubt, take her to paradise and back for a return visit. He made her feel like a school girl with her first crush.

She looked at Xavier and wondered if Darian knew she was in the hospital. She hoped he knew she hadn't stood him up, would never stand him up. Xavier set the glass vase full of flowers on the table right next to her bed. Annette leaned over to take a deep inhalation of the fragrant flowers, smiling.

"These are from Darian. He regrets that he cannot be here with you right now to help ease your suffering. He wanted to wish you a speedy recovery," Xavier said in his masculine, smooth voice.

Annette thought his voice was extremely sexy. It flowed over her body like silk. She wondered if it was just how older vampires spoke or if it was a skill, some kind of trickery that they learned to seduce mortals. Either way, she wasn't one to ruin the moment.

"I'll have to remember to thank him when I see him next time. They're lovely. Lilies are my favorite. How did he know?" she asked, sitting up in the bed, not wanting to slouch in front of such a beautiful man.

He didn't, Xavier thought.

"He has wonderful intuition."

"Yes he does," Annette said with a hint of desire.

She hated that her arm was in a cast. Two of her ribs had been bruised and there were numerous cuts and bruises all over her torso and face. She wished she didn't look so beat up at this moment. She always wanted to look her best in front a pretty piece of man-flesh like Xavier. But now, in her opinion, she looked like the missing link. Life just wasn't fucking fair. First, she damn near gets killed in a car accident along with her friend. Secondly, she misses out on getting bouncy with the hottest man walking the earth, and now, here she had the second hottest man in her hospital room.

Here I am, wearing an ugly hospital gown, with the ass out, to allow for easy entry. But no, I have to be in too much pain to get frisky. Life really sucks right now, she thought to herself.

Xavier had been watching her facial expressions, he wanted to laugh, it didn't take a mind reader to know what was on her mind. She wanted to fuck him, probably fuck both himself and Darian and probably at the same time. She would have gotten her wish.

Funny how things work out, Xavier thought as he settled in a chair next to her bed. He crossed one leg over the other, arms raised behind him, his fingers locked together to support the weight of his head.

"Do you know how happy I am to be alive right now!" she exclaimed, trying to spark up conversation, hoping to keep her mind off of sex.

"I do, I know what it's like to have a second chance," he said calmly, speaking from experience.

As Annette gazed at him, she wondered just how old he really was. He looked composed, not like some of the vampires she worked with but not quite like Darian either. She wondered how old Darian was, too. The fact that they lived forever really amazed her. Sometimes, she would look at one of the young vampires she worked with and become envious. They would still be here, powerful, beautiful and young, when she would not. She would be dust in the ground, forever forgotten.

"You sound like you're talking from experience," Annette said.

He smiled and nodded.

"I was dying when my Master made me a vampire," he said, not offering any more information.

"I hope I'm not prying but who's your Maker ... Master ... umm ... whatever ..." she trailed off.

Xavier chuckled. He thought she must be very nervous. He had hired her but didn't know her beyond that. This was the most personal they had been since the day of her interview. He pulled his hands from behind his head and leaned forward, staring into her brown eyes.

She became even more nervous. The look on his face suggested things. Things like sex, but more so lust, or hunger. She wasn't sure she liked being looked at that way. If he was a mortal man, the meaning would be different ... or would it?

Xavier knew he was unnerving her and decided to ease up. He sat back in the chair, stretching his long legs out before him. He smiled at her again.

"Darian's quite the number, isn't he?" he asked, changing the subject. "You do know he fucks both men and women?"

He watched her expressions closely, enjoying the shock value most of all. He liked surprising and unnerving anyone he could, especially the humans who came into the club looking for a little excitement, entertainment that only a vampire could give them. He was a bit mischievous that way.

"I had heard a few rumors. Nothing concrete or anything like that," she said carefully.

Okay, now she was nervous. He had successfully made her nervous. She thought about pushing the panic button for the nurse, having him ushered out of her room. She might have if she thought it would help. She knew vampires could hypnotize humans.

"I'm not trying to scare you," he lied.

"You're not scaring me," she lied in return.

"I just wanted to make sure you knew this. He probably wanted to have you participate in a threesome."

He made an offhand gesture as if to say that was in the past.

"He really wanted me to tell you that he was going to have a temporary replacement for you for daytime assistant manager. That is, until you feel strong enough to come back to work," he said as he sat up straight in the chair as if preparing to leave.

Annette was slightly confused. She had mixed feelings about Xavier. She didn't know if she wanted to have sex with him or run. If it weren't for the fact that he could snuff out her life in a blink of an eye, her decision would be easier. She looked at his gorgeous face again. She thought about it and came to the conclusion that she wanted to get into his pants.

"Thank you, both of you. I was really excited about the promotion and now this. I appreciate you holding the job for me, I really do," she said honestly.

She just knew she would have to go back to stripping after the accident. Not that there was anything terribly wrong about stripping, that section of the club made some nice money and had nice tippers. But the A.M. position paid double what she could make as a stripper and was less strenuous work. They looked at each other for a moment. Xavier saw the beauty in her that Darian did. He knew why Darian wanted to have her. Looking at her now, he wondered if Darian would have shared Annette.

***

Natasha woke up and noticed the TV was on. Her roommate seemed to be enjoying a sitcom she didn't recognize. She wiped her eyes and tried to focus on her surroundings. She sat up and looked at the clock. The time was 7:30 P.M., she had only gotten about five hours of sleep since the last time she was awake. Her parents had come barging into the room, so happy to hear their baby girl was alive and well. They had stayed and talked to her and listened patiently while their daughter talked about her new job and the nightclub she went to the night before.

Even though she was happy her parents had visited her, she was glad when they left. She wanted to be able to get some sleep. Whatever drug they had given her to dull the pain was knocking her out. Now that she was awake for the second time, she was surprised how much time had gone by, although, she was happy she didn't feel as wiped out as she had earlier.

Climbing out of bed, she felt the stiffness in her muscles but it wasn't as bad as it was before. Grabbing hold of her IV stand, she made her way to the little bathroom. Once she was done taking care of all of her needs, she looked at her hair in the mirror, it was a mess. Her curling locks were tangled and matted, sitting on the top of her head resembling a bird's nest, in her opinion. There was a bruise on her left cheek and she had two bandages covering two stinging wounds on the right and left side of her forehead. Her eyes had dark circles under them. For lack of a better choice of words, she looked positively dreadful, like death warmed over.

"Damn, girl! Look at you! The 'undead' ain't got nothing on you," she joked to her reflection.

She turned off the bathroom light as she walked out of the little room toward the telephone to call the front desk to ask for her friend's room number. She paused with the phone in hand when she heard the news anchorwoman reporting about the deadly crash that had happened the night before on the corner of Roosevelt and Clark which had ended with the deaths of both drivers and the hospitalization of two passengers. The anchorwoman relayed what the doctors had said, that both passengers were in healthy and stable condition, with only minor injuries. The hospital stated that the one passenger did suffer a broken arm.

The camera flipped back to the pretty blonde anchorwoman who mentioned the fact that the driver of the car that caused the accident, was driving on a suspended license and DUI, with an alcohol level extremely high above the legally drunk standard. Well, Natasha thought ... that answered her question about what happened to the two drivers. It also made her sad. But she was even more relieved to find that her friend was truly safe. She dialed '0' for the operator. The phone rang twice before a female voice answered.

"Operator, how may I help you?" the soft, friendly voice asked.

"Hello, I'm a patient here in the hospital and I would like the room number of my friend, Annette Balfour. We came in together last night," she said, waiting for the operator to look up the name.

"She is in room 314," the operator said.

"Thank you," Natasha replied before she hung up the telephone.

She grabbed her IV stand, thankful that it was on wheels, then walked out of her room. Her left hand held the back of her gown closed. She hated these hospital gowns. She was going to ask for a second gown to use as a robe when she got back to her room. She walked down the hallway, grateful that she didn't have to do that much traveling. She stopped in front of the door and knocked.

"Who is it?" Annette called.

"Girl, it's me, Natasha!" she answered through the other side of the thick door.

There was a pause that lasted longer than Natasha liked.

"Damn, can I come in?" she asked, slightly annoyed.

She heard Annette tell her to enter and she did. The first thing she noticed was an extremely handsome man rise to his full height of six feet two. He stepped aside to offer her the only chair in the room. But she waved her hand dismissively. If this was one of Annette's boyfriends, she didn't want to intrude. She had just wanted to check in on her, although it was quite obvious that Annette was alive and well. She looked over the man again, taken aback by his beauty. She had seen men this beautiful before, but usually in a magazine or on a TV screen.

He looked like a model. His clothes fit him like a model's, actually, better than a model. He continued to stand beside the chair, refusing to sit if Natasha would not. He was absolutely alluring to her as he smiled at her charmingly. His smile could brighten a room. It most certainly did brighten this one. She stared into his soft gray eyes, watching her with a keen interest.

"I don't want to intrude," Natasha said. "I just wanted to make sure that you were okay. Are you? I mean, I see you're as much of a mess as I am, but I just wanted to check in on you."

Natasha approached the bed, as she did, she made sure to grip the back opening of her gown tightly, not wanting to give the man a peek. She gave her friend a one armed embrace. Her body was still sore, but not nearly as much as before. The two women hugged each other lightly.

"Oh my God, we are so lucky to be alive, Annette! I saw on the news that the driver of the car and the cab driver died in the crash, instantly," Natasha said, obviously still in shock.

Annette nodded. She had heard the unfortunate news. Her mother had brought a newspaper in when she came to visit as proof of how God had blessed her and her friend.

"Yes I know, I read about it earlier. The newspaper article said that we were both unconscious when medical help arrived. Considering what happened, we're lucky. I thought we'd be in worse shape since we were in the back seat," she said, analyzing the situation.

Natasha nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly.

"There's no doubt about it," she said softly, distractedly, her gaze slowly moved toward Annette's visitor. She couldn't help but feel a little uneasy talking in front of this handsome stranger.

Xavier had stood there quietly, letting the two women reunite after their ordeal. He felt sorry for the fact that they were both injured. He could still see their beauty underneath all of the bandages and bruises. He listened to them thank God for their lives. He never thanked God for anything, perhaps he could thank him for bringing Darian to him but considering the nature of their existence, he thought it might be blasphemous in some manner of speaking. Annette noticed the wandering eyes of Natasha. Remembering her long-forgotten manners, she introduced Xavier.

"Natasha, this is Xavier Richards. Xavier, this is my best friend, Natasha Hemingway," she said as she struggled to sit up in the little narrow bed.

Xavier reached over, propping her up comfortably without any effort at all. He smiled at Annette then turned his attention toward Natasha. He took two manly strides and held his hand out. She smiled, put her hand in his expecting to simply shake hands. Instead, Xavier bent forward and pressed the warm softness of his full lips onto the back of the tender flesh of her hand. His gray eyes never leaving hers as he poured on the charm.

"Charmed," he said as he straightened himself.

Natasha's heart raced for a few beats when he kissed her hand. She had never been this up close and personal with a man this beautiful. She didn't want to blush, but still felt the blood rushing to her face, reddening her cheeks. She wanted to place her hand daintily on her chest and bat her eyes at him. She wanted to flirt insanely. She looked to Annette questioningly, wondering if he was a boyfriend of hers that she never knew about. If so, Annette had some confessing to do. Girl talk. What was he like in bed? How big is it? The usual. She searched her mind for the right words to ask such a delicate question. She didn't want to come on too nosey if this beautiful man was Annette's boyfriend.

"So," she started, looking from Xavier to Annette. "Are you two together?" she asked, hoping it was subtle enough, not too embarrassing.

Annette laughed. "No, no, we're not. Xavier, here is my boss. Well, he's like the second in command at Desires Unleashed," she informed her.

Xavier glanced at Annette and smiled before his gaze returned to Natasha. He had been immediately intrigued the moment he laid eyes on her. There was just something about this woman he couldn't put his finger on, but it drew him to her. She wasn't the statuesque beauty that Annette was. On the contrary, she was beautiful in a way that nature is beautiful. He found that alluring. It made him want to know more about her. It also made him want to fold her into his embrace, gaze into her eyes and make her moan in pleasure, absolute pleasure. He couldn't help himself, he used his telepathic ability to peek into her mind. He wanted to know what she was thinking.

When Annette revealed that Xavier was her boss at the club where she worked, that instantly set off warning sirens in Natasha's mind. The fact that he was her boss let Natasha know he was a vampire, or at least not human. She had never been eye to eye with a vampire before, well, not someone she knew was a vampire. All of a sudden, she began to panic. Her heart raced, but in a different sort of pattern. She had the urge to run back to her room and lock the door. She set nervous eyes on Annette, who didn't seem to be frightened at all. This beautiful man standing before her, was deadlier than anything Natasha had ever known or seen. He was a killing machine, like any predator in the wild. He hunted his prey then ate them alive. She felt herself backing away. Now was the best time to leave. She felt that if Annette wasn't worried about the bogeyman, then she was on her own.

"All righty then, Annette, I'm going back to my room now, I'll see you later," she said in a rush, as she turned to leave.

"Wait," said a rich, mellow, sexy voice.

It stopped Natasha dead in her tracks. Xavier walked up beside her. He took her hand in his, persuading her to remain calm. He had spied her rampant thoughts about what he was, and he fought the urge to laugh out loud. He thought her description was correct, Darian would be impressed. He wanted to reassure her that she was not in harm's way. He looked into her frightened eyes and using a trick that Darian taught him, he projected calmness onto her without using hypnotism. He slowly led her away from the door. He sat her into the chair, kneeling down in front of her, looking into her battered, but still beautiful face. He smiled his million dollar smile again, exposing his pearly whites, no fangs.

"I realize that you may be frightened of me but you have no need. I would never hurt you or Annette," he said as he gestured towards her friend sitting up on the bed.

Annette seemed to be caught in a trance, staring at the two of them, eyes darting from one to the other.

Xavier continued. "Natasha, you never need to be afraid of me. But if you simply must go back to your room, please allow me to escort you."

He stood up and held his hand out, palm upward, in front of Natasha. She placed her slender hand into his and he held it as he guided her out of the chair.

"Well, I am still tired. I was trying to get some sleep earlier but my parents had visited me and kept me awake for hours," Natasha said as they walked toward the door.

Xavier was pleased she wanted to go to her room. It would allow him a little private time with her. She looked back over her shoulder to say goodbye to her friend, who waved. Xavier smiled at Annette as he closed the door behind them.

"So, where's your room?" he asked as they walked down the white corridor with the polished and sanitized cement floors.

"It's just down the hall here," she said as she pointed down the hallway.

Xavier nodded and walked her to her room. She opened the door and he followed her, closing the door behind him. Natasha was a little nervous having Xavier in her room, but he did say that he would never hurt her. She looked at the clock on the wall, seeing that the time was 8:32 P.M. She knew full well that the visiting hours for the hospital had long since passed. Why was he still here?

"So, you must have someplace to go. I want to thank you for walking me to my room," she said politely, trying to give herself a clean, easy way to be rid of him.

He still made her nervous, even as his pearly white smile brightened the room while his gray eyes kept her blushing. She wanted to run her fingers through his soft, lovely, dark brown hair, but dare not try.

"Actually, I must admit, I wanted to get you alone. I wanted to talk with you on a more intimate level. Natasha, I think you are an extremely intriguing woman. I would love to get to know you better."

He stood in front of her, holding both hands up, palms exposed. "No tricks, no games, just you and I talking, the way two people do when they're interested in each other."

Natasha looked at him. Was he going to ask her on a date? She couldn't believe her ears. He was a vampire, most certainly, he could have any person he wanted and he was interested in her. Why not Annette, who was obviously interested in him? Everyone looked at Annette, everyone wanted her. But now, in her little hospital room she gets hit on by the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. This just couldn't be real. She couldn't help but blush and she lowered her head trying to hide her reddening visage. Still, she was unnerved by him, although, she supposed if he wanted to kill her, there was little she could do to stop him. He did seem genuinely interested though, she mused as she considered his statement.

"Why me?" she asked. "I mean, Annette likes you, I think we can both see that."

He looked at her, his head slightly cocked to the side. An expression of amazement was on his face. His lips parted in a smile. Natasha felt her face flush as more blood rushed to her cheeks. She was sure by now that even her forehead was turning red.

"Yes, I'm aware of Annette's attraction to me," Xavier said. "She's a wonderful woman and very friendly, lively. She's also my employee. I only wanted to give her my well wishes for a speedy recovery."

He noticed Natasha shaking her head and continued. "My interest in you is sincere, the interest that a man has for a fascinating woman. I hope I'm not being too forward, but are you dating anyone currently?"

Natasha shook her head. "So, here you are, in my hospital room while I have nothing on but this thin gown and you're telling me you're attracted to me? I bet you say that to all the girls you find in hospitals," she laughed nervously.

It was his turn to laugh now. And he did, throwing his head back and belting out a deep throaty laugh. He made Natasha squirm on the inside. He was so manly, so sexy, two of her weaknesses when it came down to the characteristics she looked for in a man. She loved a man who looked masculine, who acted like a man not a wimpy women's lib victim. One who could take care of things aggressively, like a man's man. If she went on a date and the man ordered a salad and nothing else or some kind of vegetarian meal, he became less than a man in her eyes. Real men don't eat tofu as a meat substitute.

"Well, unfortunately, a hospital ..." He made a wide wave of his arm around the room for emphasis. "... Is where I first saw you, so I must work within the limits."

He smiled at her again, turning on the charm full force. He took her hand to lead her to the bed. He picked her up with ease, causing her to yelp in surprise. She had never been swept off of her feet, literally, and carried anywhere. He held her in his arms effortlessly, as if she had the weight of a feather. Her arms locked around his strong neck as she gazed into his lovely, soft gray eyes. She liked how the light danced around his pupils, never getting caught in them. He placed her on the bed gently. She couldn't help smiling at him, feeling her heart pitter-pat inside her chest. Something about him, the simple allure of him was carrying her away on an uncontrollable wave of desire and curiosity. Natasha thought Xavier must be straight out of a fairy tale, men like this just didn't exist. She had almost forgotten he was a vampire.

She had never imagined her first official meeting with a vampire would be like this. Even though he was a vampire, he looked to be a human man. She was beginning to wonder what kind of relationship they could have. She wondered if his body functioned like that of a mortal man's. She decided she'd let curiosity kill the cat. If she was going to consider getting to know this vampire more, she wanted to know if or how they could be compatible.

"Can you, you know, do you ... um ... Does your ... okay, there's no polite way to ask this of you."

She took a moment to contemplate the best way to form the question while causing the least embarrassment.

"Yes, I can. I can 'do it' just like a human man, even better," he smiled. "Years of experience. I can last hours longer ... if need be," he said, taking the pressure off of her.

He didn't need to read her mind to know what she was thinking. It was the same thing he would have thought in her place. He smiled at the astonishment she couldn't hide. He could tell by her expression that her mind was probably playing out an erotic scene this instant. He turned and sat down in the small, uncomfortable, cloth-covered chair beside her bed and stretched out his long legs, hands resting on the armrest. He looked questioningly at her.

"What are you thinking? I can see the gears turning in your head. Knowing you women, it's something lewd," he joked.

She looked at him, her eyes widening. "Knowing us women! Lewd?! Naw, baby, that's how you men think. Your minds are always in the gutter. Women are sensible. I don't know what the hell is wrong with you men. Right now, I bet you're looking at me and I no longer have on this hospital gown, you've already mentally undressed me," she said matter-of-factly.

Xavier was caught off guard and it showed, making him laugh outright again. He would have to tell Darian about this beautiful, exciting woman. He definitely wanted to get better acquainted with her.

"It seems you do have a pretty good understanding of men. I did mentally undress you, about twenty minutes ago. But that doesn't mean you weren't having lewd thoughts just now," he said, knowingly.

She conceded his point and laughed. "Yes, so what of it?"

They both laughed. Xavier settled himself again, and studied her.

"So what do you like to do?" he asked.

"Well, let's see. I like to go to the movies. I like to eat out in restaurants, I love seafood, and no, I don't mean I love whatever food I see, either," she joked.

Xavier flashed her a smile, then shrugged innocently. She smirked, then continued.

"I'm the kind of girl that will go on a date and order food to fill me up, not to impress. So I will order a ten ounce or twenty ounce steak, eat half and take the rest home for later. I'll order appetizers and desserts. A lot of men I've gone out with in the past think that entitles them access to my after-hours lounge, but that's not happening."

Xavier laughed at her choice of words for intercourse. The more she revealed, the more he found himself enchanted by her. It was easy for a vampire to become enthralled with a human. It was how humans became vampires in the first place. He gestured for her to continue.

"Well, I just got a job with the Chicago Word and that was what I was trying to celebrate last night, before I started to feel sick."

"Sick, why? What happened?" he asked, concerned.

"Well, Annette wanted to celebrate with me and she said that I needed to get drunk, or at least have a real drink for the first time in my life."

"Not much of a drinker are you." It was more of a statement, than a question.

She shook her head. "No, I'm not. I suppose I shouldn't have ordered the Long Island Iced Tea," she said in retrospect.

Xavier whistled. "Nope, wasn't the best drink to start off with if you're a lightweight ... so you got sick?" he asked, encouraging her to continue.

"Well, I didn't throw up or anything like that, I just felt like I wanted to. That's why we left the club. But enough about last night. How old are you ... your real age?"

He smiled. "How old do you think I am?" he asked.

She shrugged, "I don't know. It's hard to tell. It still freaks me out that you guys exist−let alone live forever. So I'll guess one hundred years old?"

He raised both eyebrows. He knew she was guessing but it was a damn good guess.

"Well, you're pretty damn close. I'm a hundred and four years old," he said, then watched the shock spread across her face.

"Oh my God I can't believe you're that old, you look so young!" she exclaimed, surprised.

Her roommate, who had long since gone to sleep, let out a long, loud snore that startled her. Xavier looked up as well. He had almost forgotten what a snore sounded like. He no longer snored when he slept, or even breathed. His body rested, lifelessly, during the sunlit hours, as all vampires did during the day with the exception of the ancient ones.

"Well, I was very young when I was made a vampire."

He looked at his watch then drew up his legs, rising from his seat. Natasha could tell he was getting ready to leave and she felt an indescribable sadness come over her, the most unexpected sadness. She felt they got along very well, and she was calm around him. He wasn't what she expected a vampire to be. She reasoned, you really can't judge a book by its cover.

"Are you leaving?" she asked disappointedly.

He nodded. "Yes, I have to go to the club. You know our assistant manager is out of commission, so I have to pick up the slack. And besides, you need your rest." He noted her disappointment "Is it all right if I visit you tomorrow night? We can talk some more."

He walked over to her and leaned forward. She could smell his sexy cologne as he gently kissed her forehead. He looked down at her and smiled. The kiss was a bold move, he knew, but he couldn't resist.

"So, I'll see you then?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Good, until tomorrow, goodnight."

He left her room, closing the door silently behind him.

Natasha stared at the closed door, still wondering what had just transpired between them. She lay in her bed, thinking about everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours. To say the day seemed surreal would be an understatement. She began to feel tired and allowed the exhaustion to relax her body, delivering her to a blissfully deep sleep.

Chapter Thirteen

Elise sat in her room, her mind racing with thoughts of both Darian and Sergio. She cared for Sergio, not only because he was part of her Pride, but Darian was the one for her. She just had to figure out a way to bring Darian closer to her. She didn't mind the fact she would have to share Darian with Xavier. She did hope that after being with her, he would see no need to have Xavier. She could satisfy his every desire. She wondered what she could do to seduce him into taking their relationship more seriously.

Deciding to take a bath, she turned on the spigots, adjusting the temperature to make sure there was just enough heat to make steam, but not so hot that it caused discomfort. It would take some pretty extreme temperatures to effect a shape-shifter, but she didn't want to take any chances. Once the tub was filled, she slid a pink satin bathrobe with cashmere cuffs off of her smooth, creamy shoulders. She tied her long, thick, brown, curling locks into a bun so her hair wouldn't get wet. She reached into her cabinet and removed the little bottle of bath oil that she'd had imported from Egypt. It was designed to moisturize the skin, making it baby soft. From what she could tell, as she ran her fingers over her silky skin, the oil did the job effectively.

Elise poured a few drops into her heated bath water and put the bottle back. She stepped into the deep porcelain tub, settling comfortably into the water, which rose to her chin. She adored deep tubs, the kind with the four legs for support. They were just more elegant in her opinion. Resting her head on the bath pillow, she closed her eyes, thinking about Sergionaked, changing in front of her. In the past that had never bothered her. But since his relentless pursuit of her, she had been forced to take notice of his qualities. He was, without a doubt, the most handsome male in the Pride, truly worthy of attention. She had heard the other females praise his bedroom skills after they had mated with him. But she never had.

She wondered if that aspect alone might be the cause for why she had his affections. She wasn't sure if it was because he wanted her for companionship or that they had not mated yet. She knew she would be in heat soon, would need to mate. In the past, she had only allowed him to touch her, but never enter her. It had frustrated her as much as him. Still, she wasn't ready to claim a mate. That was before Darian. Now, she could fulfill her need without the threat of pregnancy or having to share control of the Pride. She wasn't ready to bear a princess. To bear a daughter would be to secure another queen's role within the Pride. The sole provider was a hierarchy. She liked being the Queen and wasn't ready to prepare someone else to take her role.

She knew she'd have to soon. She was over two-hundred years old. The oldest known shape-shifter, who had ever lived, was a natural born that had lived to be five-hundred and fifty years old before dying of old age. She had aged over the past two centuries. Picking up the hand mirror from the side of the vanity next to her bathtub, she inspected her skin in the little round polished tortoise shell mirror. She could see the little fine lines that were beginning to appear on her face and hated the telltale signs of age. She focused on the small lines at the corners of her mouth and eyes, rolling her eyes in mild annoyance.

Elise had been born an aristocrat, had married a Duke, thereby becoming a French Duchess. Men had fallen at her feet. She had once had the great, self-proclaimed Emperor in her bed. He had been most taken by her beauty, and had promised her diamonds, pearls, all the riches of the world. He had promised her what all men promised her. And she expected no less. Now as she looked at her reflection she wondered what the future had in store. She wished for just an instant, that aging could be frozen for her like it was for vampires.

Shape-shifters had prolonged life, but not life everlasting. There was always a gray shade to every rainbow. She placed her mirror on the vanity and picked up her loofa sponge, soaking it in the fragrant water then ran the sponge over the surface of her soft skin. She liked fragrances, though strong scents affected her senses. She could tolerate, even enjoy some scents if they were soft, light such as jasmine. However, anything stronger would cause a headache, as it would with all shape-shifters.

Finished with bathing, she rinsed off the soapy oil and climbed out of the bathtub, water dripped off her body onto the fluffy, pink bath mat. She loved the way the rug felt on the soles of her feet. If there was one thing she required, it was comfort. She grabbed one of the double thick, fluffy, pink towels from the towel rack and patted her body dry.

She walked out of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around her torso. Standing in front of her open closet, she searched for a cool, sheer outfit for the nights festivities. This night would see the appointment of a new King of the Pride. The Pride had not had a king in over ten years. The last king had been her mate, the Duke. He had ruled the Pride with an iron fist, making her only the Matron of the Pride. She had wanted more, having been denied her birthright. When he died of old age, she took over completely and didn't want to have to relinquish her sole command the Pride.

But Sergio had been right, a Pride without a Protector—a male protector—was considered weak and would be a target for other Prides who would want their territory. Chicago was prime real estate for any supernatural. She didn't know any of the other supernaturals in the city personally besides Darian, and those few of his coven. Knowing Darian had helped when one of their Pride members was arrested for hunting on non-sanctioned grounds. The government had a zero tolerance for such things. One of her leopards would have been executed had she not sought Darian's help. Sergio had hated the outside help. He didn't want it. He wanted to rescue their Pride member himself, by any means necessary. Elise didn't want to cause a scene which would attract government attention as well as other supernaturals. She was comfortable in the city and did not want the harassment of either. So she did things her way. But the truth of the matter was; they could not afford another incident. Sergio was a strong male presence, a natural born shifter. He understood the role of Protector. She had no doubt that he would help keep the Pride under control.

She found the clothes she wanted to wear; a sheer, pink, two-piece pantsuit. With a button-up blouse that would reveal her creamy breasts with matching pink, sheer pants. The entire outfit hid nothing, its sole purpose was to enhance by adding a pink shimmer to her skin. She took the pins out of her hair letting her brown curls cascade down her back. The curly ends of her locks nearly brushed her buttocks. She applied a small amount of lipstick and blush before inspecting herself in the mirror. She smiled. She may be aging, which was unfortunate, but she was still gorgeous, of that she was certain.

Elise left her bedroom, heading toward the backyard. She stepped outside and looked at the decorations that had been set up in preparation for the ceremony. Stone pillars had been mounted and set aflame, lighting the aisle leading to an altar. On the altar sat a gold chalice and dagger with a jeweled—ruby and diamond—hilt.

She looked over the Pride gathered for the ceremony. Everyone was naked, kneeling in a semicircle; they were all waiting for her, looking at her. Sergio stood tall and naked in front of the altar. Elise walked slowly toward him, the other members moving backward to give them room to perform the ceremony as it had been performed for many millennia for all shape-shifter communities.

Elise took Sergio's face in her hands kissing him lightly on the lips, then on each cheek. Sergio lowered his head so she could kiss his forehead. She released him and turned toward the altar. It was up to her to claim a new mate and in doing so, a new king. However, she was breaking with tradition by not taking Sergio as her mate. Who would protest? Who would dare? She was queen. She removed her clothing, letting the sheer, pink shirt fall off of her shoulders to the grass. Sergio's gray eyes watched her every move, trailing over her body as she undressed. She let the pants fall into a puddle at her feet before stepping out of them.

She was undressing herself for the hunt to complete the ceremony, but she would be omitting one part of that ceremony. She would not be consummating their partnership. Her duty was to join with Sergio on the altar. She picked up the jeweled dagger from the altar and held her wrist over the gold chalice. She held the blade firmly in one hand and she ran the sharp end over her skin, slicing a deep cut an inch in length. Blood oozed out of the open wound into the chalice. Everyone's eyes were focusing on the ruby red liquid that filled the bowl. The scent of her blood, the blood of the Matron, filled the air. Some of the members licked their lips and moved a little closer to the altar. The only member that wasn't affected by the scent of the blood was Sebastian, Sergio's son. The one he had fathered when he had mated with Madeleine, sixteen years ago. He had mated with her since then, when she had gone into heat, but Sebastian was his only child. It was the responsibility of the Pride to raise all natural born shifters. Sergio let out a low growl as the scent of Elise's blood assailed his nostrils. The growl curled from deep within his throat. It made the hairs on the back of Elise's neck rise.

She pulled her bleeding wrist away from the chalice and licked the wound closed. The healing properties in her saliva could heal all wounds, even deep, life threatening wounds with the aid of her blood. The initial sharing of blood between the Queen Matron and the male king of the Pride signified the bond between them which was unbreakable once the ceremony was complete, making both stronger in the process.

The magic in the ceremony was also what gave the Matron the ability to heal other shape-shifters faster. Her blood and saliva contained the preternatural elements to heal shifters who were critically injured, preventing their death. Elise continued to lick the wound until it was completely healed. She placed her hands around the gold chalice, slowly lifting it off of the altar. Sergio, his hands at his side, knelt in front of her, awaiting her next move.

Elise lowered the chalice before his face and he took it from her. Tilting the golden cup to his lips, he drank deeply of the blood that would transfer some of her power to him, sharing the leadership of the Pride. His throat worked as he swallowed deeply. Elise could tell he savored her essence in the blood.

Sergio drained the chalice, then taking the dagger up, cut an identical wound and now held his bleeding wrist over the golden chalice. Everyone watched as his blood filled the chalice. Afterward, he placed his wrist to his mouth, healing his own wound. Elise took the chalice and drank the blood deeply, emptying it. Sergio threw his head back and roared triumphantly with a mixture of animalistic and human sounds gurgling from his vocal cords. The rest of the Pride roared as well, all except Sebastian, who could only yell to support the ceremony.

Sergio stood, tall and strong, penis erect. This would have been the moment he would claim his Queen, his mate. Elise turned her head toward the altar, then away from both the altar and Sergio. His frustrations were evident, but he had known it would come down to this. Until she could free her mind of Darian, he would have to walk the tightrope. This didn't mean that he couldn't try to convince her otherwise. He held her hand in his and licked her palm, the gesture asking a question. Her green eyes locked with his gray ones as she slowly shook her head in answer. Disappointed, Sergio released her hand. Turning toward the members of the Pride, he raised his hands. They roared again, happy to have a king they all respected and loved.

"Tonight we hunt to commemorate the ceremony!" he yelled, the Pride cheered and clapped.

He lowered himself to the ground and began his change. The other five natural born members followed suit, lowering themselves to all fours, willing their own changes. The members of the Pride who were bitten and not Natural Born, stayed in their human form. They would cheer on the hunt, but were unable to join. The groans of pain from those transforming soon disappeared, to reveal six beautiful silky-furred leopards. Three, Sergio, Miranda and Elise, were spotted black on black. Devin was snow white, while Madeline and Daniel were spotted black on orange. Their sleek bodies rubbed against one another. They walked over to the other members of the Pride, rubbing against them.

The remaining members rubbed their faces against the animal forms of their family, bathing in each other's scents. Low growls echoed through the air as they all shared the moment of bonding. The leopards licked the faces of the human form Pride members to show their loyalty. Then Sergio roared and the other five echoed, before running off into the woods to hunt down a buck. They hunted in a group, using their super senses to smell livestock. Their eyes saw clearly in the night. A deer was spotted drinking at the pond a hundred yards away. Slowly, together, they crept low to the ground, moving stealthily toward their prey. The deer, being upwind, unaware that he was targeted, calmly stood drinking the cool water from the man-made pond.

The muscles in their bodies allowed them to move as one smooth, quiet unit. Finally, they struck, converging on the deer. The buck looked up just in time to see Devin lunging, a harsh growl coming from his throat. The deer took off in a bound, running further into the woods, trying for escape. The six leopards took off after it, Elise leading the chase. Their sleek bodies moved through the thick bushes easily. Elise gained on the prey, paws reaching out, claws extending as she gave one final lunge for the deer, catching the hind legs under her claws. She could feel the flesh and muscle rip under the pressure of her nails. Blood spurted out of the wounds. The animal cried out, but didn't stop trying to run for its life. The wounds slowed it down, but it was Elise's claws, now embedded in its hind legs that sealed its fate.

Elise clawed her way up the length of the buck and buried her two inch incisors into the flesh under the deer's neck, cutting the vocal cords and crushing its windpipe. The other leopards snaked up alongside the prey and began to rip off chunks of flesh from the deer as it lay twitching, dying. Paws held the deer down while teeth ripped at skin and meat, pulling it away from bone. They ate their fill of the carcass. Elise bit into the neck of the remains of the dead animal, carrying it back toward the others. The rest following behind her, Sergio walked alongside of her and licked her nose and whiskered cheeks.

They reached the other members of the Pride, and Elise tossed the carcass on the ground before them. They all surrounded the bloody carcass, some licking the blood from it, others taking small bites. Sebastian sat back and watched. It would be a few years before his body would undergo his first change, and then he would be able to enjoy the hunt. He felt a little left out of the celebration due to that fact. Even though the others never made him feel as though he couldn't participate, he knew he couldn't, which was why he felt the way he did. The other members that were still in animal form began to eat more of the deer, until there were only fragments of bone with small bits of flesh left in a pile on the blood soaked ground.

Sergio, Devin and Madeleine stayed in animal form. At the moment, Madeleine was in heat and both Sergio and Devin could scent it. They waited to see who she would choose to mate with. Madeleine rubbed against both males and then licked Devin's face. She lay in front of him and exposed her opening. Sergio gave a low growl that held both his disappointment and concession before changing forms. When he was fully in human form again, he looked at Devin and Madeleine. Devin had mounted her, gripping her neck with his teeth as he pounded deeply into her.

Sergio knew she wanted another child and he hoped that she would get her wish. It wasn't easy for a shape-shifter to have children, which was painful for Madeleine. Everyone knew she was the motherly kind and she'd been trying to get pregnant for years now. This time around, she had picked a different male to father the second child, which was fine with Sergio. It really didn't matter who the father was, for any child born into the Pride, that child would be parented by the Pride. When a child misbehaved, he or she could end up getting several reprimands in one day for the same thing, by several different members.

Sergio went inside. He was tired. Normally, like all of their kind, he could stay up all night, but that was only if he slept the majority of the day away. Right now, after the hunt and activities he'd had for the whole day, his body was tired. He retired to his room, ready for a good night's sleep. But before he could sleep the night away into the day, he needed to get the blood off of his body or the scent would never let him sleep. He climbed into the shower and soaped his body, working the unscented suds over his skin, rinsing off when he could no longer smell the blood of the kill in his pores. He toweled off and climbed into bed. He closed his eyes and dreamt about Elise. It was a good dream, she had finally accepted him as her mate and they were making love. Sergio could feel himself smiling, even in his sleep.

Chapter Fourteen

Xavier sat with his back to the bar, scanning the dancing mortals. The blood pumping in their veins mixed with their young energy filled the area with a succulent aroma. He inhaled deeply, smiling as he thought about the beautiful woman he'd met earlier that night. He wanted to have her, to make love to her, to taste her, to talk to her and laugh with her. He wanted to tell Darian about her. Darian would be amused that he would be so entranced by a human. He turned around to catch the eye of their vampire bartender, Tony, and gestured for him to come closer. Tony finished up the tricks he always did to entertain the crowds. He would toss bottles of alcohol into the air, spin around a few times, performing a few tricks, then catch them before pouring numerous drinks for flirtatious women and men. He was a huge crowd pleaser and attraction to the club. Darian, who always made wise decisions, had hired the sexy looking bartender.

Tony walked toward Xavier, his skintight leather pants squeaking softly as his thighs rubbed against each other. He was wearing a fishnet shirt, allowing all to see his twin nipple piercing. Looking at the little barbells made Xavier want to twist them lightly between his fingertips. Tony's ocean blue eyes locked on Xavier as his hands came up to brush his long, blonde bangs away from his face.

"What can I get for you, Boss?" he asked as he stood in front of Xavier.

"The usual, but with a little more kick."

Tony smiled, reached behind the bar and opened up a brand new bottle of synthetic blood. Reaching again behind the bar, he pulled out another bottle with a plain black label. It contained a special mixture he had personally concocted; he didn't want anyone to steal his special ingredients. This was the only bar in all of Chicago, maybe even the country, where a vampire could get a real drink and become intoxicated. He refused to tell anyone what he put in the drink and for good reason; he could charge an arm and a leg for his signature mixtures. It had tickled Xavier the first time he saw Darian drunk off of one of Tony's "Contenders". Darian had never lost his charm. Still, it was nice to see him grinning for no reason and babbling on about anything that popped into his head at the time. Darian ordered the drink regularly and was the only one who never had to pay for them. Xavier would just run up a tab, then pay it at the end of the week. He never really mind paying, he was rich through Darian, so it was always Darian's money that paid his tabs.

Tony poured the drink with the same flare he did everything else. He tossed the bottled blood in the air, spun around and caught the bottle behind his back. Juggling both bottles, pausing only to pour the right amount into the glass, he'd serve the drinks with a flourish to the waiting customers. Even though Xavier enjoyed the show, sometimes he just wanted his drink, but he let Tony put on the performance. It always brought more people to the bar and the more people that came to the bar, the more money they would make. He looked at the gathering crowd, thinking that Al Cantone had nothing on Darian.

"Here ya go, Boss," Tony said as he slid the glass down the length of the bar to Xavier, who caught it without looking.

Xavier took a deep swallow, and shivered slightly. The tangy flavor of the secret ingredients tingled on his tongue, which he found delightful. Halfway through the drink, he began to feel the effects, his body felt warmer inside, and whatever tension he'd held in his shoulders, was now gone. He could feel himself becoming relaxed, giddy. Tony had indeed made himself a hot commodity.

Tony had come to Darian two years ago, his master had used him for sexual pleasure, would beat him and threaten to destroy him if he would not comply. Tony managed to escape, practically killing himself in the process. He hid himself underground during the day, making his way to Chicago. It was forbidden to enter a vampire master's territory without permission. To do so, would mean death at the master's discretion. Tony pleaded with Darian to let him stay and to protect him. Darian had agreed, but for a price Tony was more than happy to pay. With that, he got the job tending bar. Darian did have to eradicate Tony's old master, a foolish young vampire, who didn't respect the older one, until it was too late.

Over the past seventy years or so, Xavier had seen Darian challenged for the city many times. He'd seen Darian viciously and skillfully dispatch his opponents. He'd even seen him let some of the weaker challengers battle it out in the arena of the Coliseum. The grand prize? Their existence. It was during that type of tournament Darian would raise the normal admission fee of one-hundred thousand dollars to five-hundred thousand. Besides, how many times would mortals see two vampires fight to the death, and be able to choose the loser's fate? Always thinking about personal gain, that was Darian. He was one of the most ambitious bastards Xavier ever met.

Xavier wondered if Darian was still busy watching the semi-finals of the tournament. He looked at his platinum Solex watch, diamond dots marked each quarter hour. He shook his head. The time was 2:42 A.M. The tournament was long over. At three, he was planning to leave, John could handle the rest. He had appointed John Fallon to take Gary's place in the strip club section of the establishment. He could tell when he gave the assignment that John didn't want to get on the stage to strip for the hysterical mortals who wanted to see a vampire in the buff, but Xavier had been most insistent. He had watched the crowd react wildly to John as he performed growing more and more relaxed the longer he danced. It became apparent that he enjoyed dancing for cash.

Xavier shook his head, laughing as he watched John seduce the human crowd, teasing them with the last bit of clothing he had on, the one piece that covered his genitalia. When the crowd began to chant "take it off", John teased them a bit more before submitting. But now that the strip section of the club was also closed, John had to resume his regular duties as manager. He also didn't seem to mind the extra few hundred dollars he had stuffed in his pocket.

Speaking of the devil, John walked up to Xavier, who was by now, feeling very mellow. He sat down on the bar stool next to Xavier, surveying the energetic mortals.

"It seems that they never get tired, doesn't it?" John asked.

Xavier nodded. "Yeah, it does. They love the nightlife after the grueling work day, I suppose it's the only thing that makes them feel alive," he said softly. "That is the one thing we have in common with humans, we both love the nightlife."

He finished his drink and placed the empty glass on the bar top and rose slowly, taking his leather jacket off the back of the seat.

"I'm going home now. I'll leave all of this in your hands. Remember to remind Jennifer that she has to cover for Annette until she returns, okay?"

"Yeah, Xavier, I won't forget."

Xavier looked at him and grinned. "You enjoyed stripping, didn't you?"

John blushed slightly then nodded. "Yeah, I did. At first, I didn't think I would, but it's pretty exciting to be up there, everyone loving everything about you. Shit, I even did a personal dance for these two chicks in the back who wanted to know what it was like to touch a vampire," he said, smiling, eyes staring forward suddenly as he remembered the moment with the ladies.

"Well, I hope you didn't let anything get out of hand. Did they want you to feed from them?" Xavier asked, looking at John suspiciously.

"Well, yeah, you know how these mortals are these days. We're like a new aphrodisiac to them. They can't get enough of us. I think we have successfully replaced heroine, crack and cocaine!" John said with a chuckle.

Xavier couldn't help but laugh.

"But I behaved myself ... I only took a little, just enough to give them a thrill." John smiled.

Xavier nodded, pleased. Telling John "good night", he put his coat on, and headed to the parking lot. Xavier looked at the night sky, at the stars shining brightly against the dark clouds. He could see the sky so clearly; better than any mortal would ever be able to see it. To him, the night was beautiful; he felt it was the best time of the day. He then climbed inside his sports car and drove home. When he arrived at the mansion, he pulled into the huge garage, parking on the second level. The walls of the double-decker garage were all glass. Darian had wanted to be able to see the cars, even before entering. Xavier had told him he thought it a bad idea that would tempt thieves. Darian had paid no heed to the warning.

They were burglarized shortly after that discussion. A foolish band of mortals had thought it would be easy to get in and get out, with as many of the high priced cars stored in the two-story garage as they could. What they didn't know was that the huge two-story mansion with sixteen acres of scenic landscaping was owned by a powerful master vampire who had no qualms about killing humans. That night, all six vampires staying with Darian at that time—Xavier, John, Tony, Annabelle, Miko, and April—and the man himself applied their own brand of justice. They feasted greedily on the five mortals who had dared to enter their home.

After he parked, he went inside the house which was luxurious. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings, handmade carpeting covered the floors. The mansion had been built in the 1930's from a classic design. The arched doorways were decorated with carved rose vines. The rooms without carpeting had dark, hardwood floors which were hand polished. Darian's mortal servants lived on the premises, protecting the coven during the day, as well as completing daily house chores. They earned room and board, and a handsome salary to boot.

Whenever Darian had human servants, it was primarily for day time protection and very little else. He might have sex with them but it was rare. He hired mortals who were menacing and strong, with little or no family ties, to scare off would-be groupies who wanted to look at a vampire sleeping, or slayers. For slayers, Darian had zero tolerance. He had caught four slayers since the "Exposure", who had attempted to destroy him. Ivy Hawthorne had been one of them, breaking into his home with a machete and gun. Her death had been quick, but not painless. To these idiot mortals, he did one of two things: either killed them instantly, or placed them in a tournament. But never, ever did he turn them over to the police.

Xavier passed two human servants in the hallway and nodded a greeting to them, which they returned. He entered the extravagant bedroom he shared with Darian. The king-sized canopy bed was draped with sheer black curtains and covered with black satin sheets. The room smelled of orchid incense. The floor had white carpeting, a daring move, with the constant amount of traffic in and out of the bedroom. The armoire and dresser were made of solid black marble, as were the frame and pillars of the four-poster bed. The high arched, Roman-style windows, reaching from ceiling to floor, were covered with thick, black velvet drapes to keep out the sun. Darian didn't sleep in a coffin, he enjoyed the comfort of waking up in a bed every evening and Xavier had to agree. Darian also thought the notion of resting in a coffin was a bit outdated. Coffins were only to be used for traveling during daylight hours or in some sort of emergency.

Xavier could hear sounds of water splashing from the bathroom. He headed in that direction and opened the door, allowing steam to escape from the room. He leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms over his chest. He looked down at Darian sitting in the huge, round, marble tub that was built into the floor. It was big enough to swim in. Darian was pouring handfuls of scented water over his muscular chest.

He looked up at him and smiled. "Home already?"

"Yeah, well, most of the fun sections of the club were closed. All that was left was the dance section, and the mortals were filling the place up with the most delicious scent," Xavier said as he twirled into the bathroom, arms outstretched.

Darian lowered his head and chuckled.

"You're drunk." He smiled, the cute dimples in his cheeks made Xavier blush.

"Yes, I had one of Tony's concoctions, the patented 'Contender'." He smiled gaily.

"I could have had a 'contender'," Darian joked mischievously.

He poured more handfuls of the hot water over his muscular arms. Xavier watched as the water flowed over Darian's soft skin. He sat down on the edge of the tub, looking down at his lover.

"Mind if I join?" he asked as his hands came up to unfasten his shirt, working slowly on the buttons.

"Not at all."

Darian submerged himself under the fragrant, soapy water, and came back up. Water trailed down his body and his long, wavy, jet-black hair was plastered to his face and chest. He looked at Xavier, who was removing his shirt and leather jacket at the same time. Then Xavier unbuttoned his pants and pulled them down. His semi-erect penis sprang upward. Darian laughed outright, moving away from the edge of the tub to allow Xavier access into the heated water. Xavier climbed in and moved closer to his lover. Darian opened his arms wide, taking him into his embrace, pressing him back against his chest.

Darian kissed Xavier's temple lightly. He truly loved Xavier and would do all that was in his power to take care of him. He didn't feel that way about many people, even some of his own offspring, but he felt that way wholeheartedly about the one lying comfortably and safely in his arms. Darian lifted a handful of water, pouring it over his lover's chest. He watched the water run in rivulets over his nipples to settle into the ridges of his muscular stomach. He tilted the other man's head back, pressing it to his chest, planting delicate kisses alongside Xavier's cheek and mouth. Their tongues met in a gentle kiss.

"I met someone today," Xavier said when they broke the kiss.

Darian looked at him, his long, thick, straight, black lashes brushing his cheeks as he looked down into Xavier's eyes. "Who?"

His hand continued to pour warm water over Xavier's head and body.

"A beautiful, enchanting woman. She was with Annette the night of the accident. Oh, Annette wishes she was here right now, but unfortunately, she's laying in a hospital bed. Her arm's broken, and she has a few cuts, stitches and bruises here and there."

Darian frowned slightly. "Did she like the flowers?"

"The ones you didn't pick, but received credit for?" Xavier teased.

"Yes, those."

"Oh yeah, she loved them. And she also had her eyes set on me. I think she would have been willing for that threesome." Xavier chuckled.

"What of this other woman you met tonight?"

"Oh, that's right." He smiled, looking up at Darian, head tilted against his chest. "She's gorgeous, but in a natural beauty kind of way. Light green eyes, full luscious lips, smooth brown skin, incredible figure, she was delicious to look at. She has a smile that's out of this world, and she's funny."

"Is she as lovely as Annette?" Darian asked.

"Well, I can't say that. She's different but lovely all the same. Does that make sense to you, or am I babbling?"

"I understand you."

"I suppose one would consider her to be average, but she's not average to me. Let me tell you what I read of her mind."

He proceeded to tell Darian of her thoughts about them being predators. Darian chuckled as he listened to Xavier telling him more about his conversation with Natasha.

"You were pouring the charm on kind of thick, don't you think?"

"Well yeah, but you would have too if you had seen her. But I guess you're just so smooth women throw themselves at you. All you need to do is pretend that you're going to look their way and you've got panties thrown at your feet, you lucky bastard!" Xavier said playfully, splashing water into Darian's face as he laughed.

"I wouldn't go that far, I do have to put a little effort into seducing the ladies."

"Picking out the right designer suit doesn't count ... Well ... Doesn't count for much. Face it, you've been blessed with a face for billboards, and a body to boot," Xavier said.

Darian smiled, he thought the same of his young lover.

They bathed each other in the tub then Xavier reached over and pushed a silver button, turning on the shower heads mounted in the ceiling. Warm sprinkles of water rained down, rinsing off the soap and residue from them as the water drained from the tub. Darian held Xavier in his arms, kissing his shoulders, his hands caressing Xavier's stomach, and pecs. His fingers teased Xavier's erect nipples as he pressed Xavier's back firmly against his chest. Darian's hands trailed down Xavier's stomach to his fully erect penis, encircling the base. He began to lightly stroke the smooth hardness, causing Xavier to moan. A small tremor ran through Xavier's body as his eyes closed, letting his muscles relax, reveling in the pleasure.

Releasing Xavier and turning the shower off, Darian rose to his full height of six-feet-three inches, lifted his lover in his arms and carried him to the bed. Using telekinesis, he drew the curtains away from the bed, allowing him to lay Xavier down on the satin sheets. He looked down at Xavier's body, catching his breath at the sight of his beautiful lover's naked form. He climbed in next to him, leaning forward, pressing fervent kisses on Xavier's soft lips. Darian pulled away slowly, reaching into a drawer to retrieve a small glass vial filled with fragrant oil. He poured the contents of the bottle into the palm of his hand then rubbed both hands together. Kneeling beside the prone man, Darian started to rub the warm fragrant oil into Xavier's chest, giving him a soft, soothing massage. He kneaded the hard muscles underneath the soft flesh of Xavier's arms, legs, and shoulders, as Xavier moaned and squirmed in electrifying pleasure.

Xavier raised his hand to caress Darian's long, silky locks, sliding his fingertips down the length of his lover's hair. Darian caught his hand, kissing the palm, before trailing soft, moist kisses along the sensitive skin of his inner arm. Xavier moaned in anticipation as Darian reached for his erect hardness again, stroking it slowly in a smooth rhythm. Xavier arched up, crying out as he felt himself rising to the height of passion.

Darian withdrew, smiling wickedly at his lover. Pressing his hand on the other man's shoulder, he urged him to roll onto his stomach. Darian covered Xavier's body with his own and began to plant soft, tender kisses on Xavier's shoulder blades, moving lower to the rise of Xavier's firm cheeks. Darian's tongue found his lover's most sensitive flesh causing him to cry out, his back arching as his hands gripped the sheets. His eyes closed tightly as his mouth opened, panting. After several minutes, Darian rolled him over onto his back. He gently tortured Xavier with grazing nips of his teeth, before satisfying their mutual longing by pressing his lips to Xavier's in a passionate kiss. Darian's tongue teased and tasted before he withdrew, lowering his head to plant a single kiss on Xavier's neck.

Xavier moaned deeply, pressing himself closer to Darian as his lover's hands slid under his legs, placing his calves around his waist. Darian reached for the bottle of oil he had used earlier and poured more into his right palm. He rubbed it on himself, groaning softly with the pleasure of the act. He poured the remaining oil over Xavier's opening, while inserting his fingers to assure for an easy entry. As Darian moved forward, Xavier felt his hardness penetrate him. His arms encircled Darian's shoulders, his legs tightened around his lover's waist. He felt the indescribable pleasure spreading throughout his body as Darian began thrusting into him. He moaned loudly with each thrust, his nails digging deeply into his lover's back, drawing blood. The scent of the blood mingled in the air with their lust, heightening their passion.

Darian began to pump faster as he felt himself approaching the point of no return. The pleasurable sensation started at a low, boiling heat deep within his groin, then like a volcano, it shot throughout all of his limbs, and he thrust hard one final time, biting his bottom lip. Unable to contain his ecstasy, he cried out. Xavier's entire body tensed along with Darian's final thrust, echoing Darian's cry. His grip tightened around his lover as he felt the searing release erupt from their bodies enveloping them in heat as the rapture held them. Seconds later, Darian collapsed on top of Xavier, their bodies lay entwined as they kissed softly. Small tremors still rippled through their limbs as they relaxed in the afterglow. Darian looked into Xavier's eyes, smiling.

"You know that I love you, don't you?" he asked

Xavier cocked his head, and smiled warmly. "Yes, and I love you."

He kissed Darian deeply for several moments, before the older man rolled reluctantly to the side. Putting his hands behind his head, he stared at the opening in the four-poster canopy bed, looking at the chandelier. He smiled. He looked over at the window and saw the first sign of the morning coming through. He looked at Xavier, who was already fast asleep. He chuckled and climbed out of the bed to close the heavy, thick, black-velvet drapes. He knew that the other vampires were tucked safely in their own bedding. Once the room was enveloped in darkness, he climbed back into bed and pulled Xavier's body to his, resting his head on the other man's chest as his arms held him close. He closed his eyes and let the sleep take him.

Chapter Fifteen

Natasha woke up in the little, white hospital bed, the light from the bright sun burning her eyes. She raised her hand to shade her sensitive eyes from the heated rays. She looked around the room and saw her roommate sitting up, eating breakfast. The little gray haired old lady was grinding the mushy food in her mouth. She looked at Natasha and smiled, her dentures had been removed exposing a mouth full of pink gums. Natasha shivered mentally as she thought about that being her fate in the next fifty or so years. The young never wanted to age. She smiled back at the lady.

"You look better today, how are you feeling?" she asked the woman.

"Oh, darling, I'm feeling a lot better, but how about you? You laid there and whimpered all through the night. Kept saying something like, 'don't drive.' Were you one of those young gals hurt in that terrible car accident that was all over the news?" she asked.

"Yeah, I am. Wait a minute you said that I was talking in my sleep? That's funny. I don't recall ever talking in my sleep. I also keep having these weird dreams, one right after another. They were really strange. I don't normally dream unless I forget to take my medicine or something and that only happened once. But this is really weird. I know I sustained a concussion in the accident ... that may have something to do with it."

She looked at the old woman sitting there, watching her babble.

"I'm sure you don't have the faintest idea of what I'm talking about do you? Don't worry about me. I'll probably get better once I get out of here."

"Why do you say that?" asked the petite, elderly lady.

Her thinning gray hair resembled a tangled mop. She looked to be about sixty-five years old or so Natasha thought.

"Well, I hate hospitals, hate them. I get all anxious when I have to go to them. I keep thinking someone else's illness is going to jump out of their body into mine. I know it's ridiculous, but come on, it's a hospital, all sorts of germs and unidentified viruses are floating around. To me, it's a war zone in here!"

The elderly woman laughed until tears ran from her eyes, slapping the side of her thigh. Natasha sat there stunned for a moment, she hadn't meant to be comical; that was just how she felt. Then she thought about how she must have sounded to the other woman, who had seen so many years pass.

The thought of such a young woman having a fear of hospitals was just as endearing to her as it was absurd. The elderly woman took a napkin from the table and dabbed her eyes with it.

"Ohh, that was precious. Sweetheart, I've never heard of anyone becoming ill in a hospital. All the dangers are out there, honey child, all the crazies and creepy crawlies are out there. I mean, can you believe that all these dead people are walking around drinking our blood, and these monsters that turn into animals? It's like the normal world has been warped into some kind of horrible horror movie!" she said, obviously upset about having to live in a world with the supernaturals.

Natasha couldn't blame her. Until last night, she had felt the same way. But there was something about Xavier that was more humane than most of the men she'd ever met. Considering that, she was willing to take a peek over the other side of the fence, hoping her curiosity didn't kill the cat, the cat being her.

"Well, I know what you mean, ma'am. It's like you have to worry about all sorts of things now. When you walk down the street you have to be careful, not just at night like it used to be, but during the day as well. I've never met one of those shape-shifters, and I don't think I ever want to. It still creeps me out that my body smells like food to them."

"Tell me about it. I saw one of them damn animal people one day on the news. They were doing some kind of report to try to ease our anxieties, or so they said. But the damn report only made me even more terrified! It was like actually looking at proof that they really do exist!" She shook her head in dismay.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Natasha said as she sat up in her bed. "When I first heard about them, I thought it was a hoax, you know? I mean, really? Vampires and werewolves? But it's as real as it gets. I heard that they all have superhuman strength and power"

"And," the elderly lady cut her off. "It ain't nothing like the movies, ya know. Garlic, crosses, none of that works, but at least the silver bullets work on those damn animal people. That's good news," the woman said as she nodded.

Natasha wasn't so sure if she could determine who was considered to be the most dangerous. Mortal men, who had plagued her and every other woman who had dared to walk the streets at night ... or a supernatural creature. She rated both of the groups even, if you could call it even.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, why are you in here?" Natasha asked.

"Are you afraid I might give you something?" the lady joked.

Natasha hadn't thought about it until just then.

"Well, now that you've mentioned it," she said, laughing.

"Well, I was attacked by one of those damned bloodsucking monsters. I was coming home from my job when one of them grabbed me and carried me into an alley." She paused, remembering the horrifying experience.

Natasha's mouth dropped open. Here she was, sitting in the same room with a survivor of a vampire attack. It was even more amazing than a survivor of a shark attack. The elderly woman continued. Her thinning gray hair was a messy mop around her head. Natasha wondered if she had any family, would anyone come to comb her hair, or talk to her? Natasha hadn't seen any friends or relatives come to visit the elderly lady since she'd been there. She was starting to wonder if the woman had any loved ones ... who returned the love.

"The thing bit me! And I screamed, darling. Let me tell you, I screamed like I've never screamed in my life! Those long, sharp, painful teeth went into my neck. Then there was something else. It made me feel funny inside. These bloodsuckers are some dangerous things." She was nodding, agreeing with herself.

"So, how did you survive?"

"Well, I thought I was going to die, my body felt light and there was this tingly feeling in my arms and legs and ..." she blushed and trailed off.

Natasha chose not to press regarding the intensity of a vampire's bite. She had heard rumors and had her own speculations. She was not interested in hearing about this sweet, old lady getting off on vampire sex. No, no, not at all. The mere thought made Natasha shiver with repulsion.

"Well, this tall, dark haired man came out of nowhere and saved me, he threw the vampire off me. And the funny thing is, he told the mean vampire to take care of me. At first, I was scared that meant that he was going to put me in a dumpster or something, but he brought me here then ran away. Strange, isn't it?" the lady asked, obviously perplexed.

Natasha nodded, wondering who the lady's savior was. The elderly woman didn't know it, but Natasha guessed that the other man was also a vampire, a stronger vampire. She wondered if Xavier would know anything about it. Then she wondered if the woman's savior was Xavier. He was tall, and handsome, and had dark hair; she thought about how romantic that would be, Xavier, a knight in shining armor, keeping the streets safe for damsels in distress. Then she came back to herself. Xavier was probably at the club when this elderly lady was attacked. But he was still a handsome gentleman, who was to say he couldn't be a knight in shining armor?

Natasha began to feel the increasing pressure in her bladder. She was forced to get out of bed even though she didn't want to. Her body was still sore, like she had a good two-hour workout after not working out in years. Even her buttocks hurt a little. She pulled the sheets back and headed for the bathroom. After she finished doing her business, she began her morning ritual of washing her body, and brushing her teeth; these things simply had to be done.

After about twenty minutes she emerged from the bathroom, turning her attention to the TV. The other woman had turned on one of the reality court TV shows, where two people battled over who pays whom, because they found so and so sleeping in their bed with their best friend's dog, or some crazy shit like that.

"You like your court shows too, eh, just like my grandmother used to. She loved that one court show, every afternoon she had to watch Judge Walter," Natasha said as she climbed back into the bed.

The old woman laughed and nodded, then began to explain to Natasha what was going on in the court drama. Natasha pretended to care, she wasn't sure if that was a good idea or not. It may spark up more details which she did not want to know.

"Oh, really, well, I hope she gets paid," Natasha said to appease the woman, who had just explained that a lady was suing her landlord for not installing a smoke alarm in her apartment.

Because of this, she lost her fur coat and other belongings in a fire that she started in her bedroom from falling asleep while smoking a cigarette. The landlord was countersuing for damages done to the apartment due to the fire.

What was the world coming to? Natasha thought as she buzzed for the nurse. She wanted something to eat, even if it was hospital food. The same nurse from the day before came into the room, smiling.

"How are you feeling today, Miss Hemingway?" the nurse asked as she removed the IV bag and the needle from Natasha's arm.

Natasha was relieved, she had wanted to pull the vicious little needle out and toss it across the room from the very first day.

"Oh, I'm fine, just starving. What's for breakfast?" she asked, knowing that it was nothing she really wanted to eat.

No wonder people always lost weight when they went into the hospital. One thing was for certain, forget about Slim and Trimmer and all the other lose weight fast diet plans, all one needed to do was admit oneself into the hospital for two weeks and come out looking like a brand new person. Natasha smiled to herself as she thought about the weight loss alternative.

"Well, we have the lunch menu ready, that will be a side salad, strawberry gelatin, and turkey sandwich," the nurse said as if she was at a restaurant, where the food was actually desirable.

Natasha fought the urge to gag. She just smiled at the nurse.

"Well, I'm pretty hungry, so I guess I have no choice but to eat what they provide me."

"That's right," joked the nurse.

Natasha made a face and chuckled. The nurse finished checking all the machinery and her chart. She walked over to her roommate to check on her.

"Hello, Mrs. Harnett. How are we feeling today? You'll be pleased to know that you will be going home today ... as a matter of fact, both of you are going home today. Mrs. Harnett, we're still trying to contact your son, we haven't been able to get hold of him. Do you have another number so that we may be able to call him and tell him that you're ready to go home?" asked the nurse as she removed the IV bag that hung on the stainless steel hook connected to the pole.

Mrs. Harnett seemed sad. She hadn't had one visitor while she had recuperated in the hospital. Natasha felt sorry for the old woman who had a son that didn't even want to know what had happened to his mother. Natasha had seen Mrs. Harnett attempting to contact someone in her family so they could visit her. No one ever picked up. Natasha imagined how lonely the elderly woman must be. She would hate to be that lonely. What was the point of having kids if they didn't return the love and compassion?

"That's the only number he gave me, he said I should call it if I need to talk to him. I've tried to call my daughter too, but I haven't gotten an answer." She smiled sadly, knowing she wasn't wanted.

It seemed to Natasha that no one wanted to have to take care of the old hag who had taken care of them. It made her angry. She would love to set her eyes on the two good for nothing children of this kindly old woman. She'd tell them a thing or two about themselves.

"Well, if I'm going home today, my mother will most likely take me home. We can give you a ride, Mrs. Harnett," Natasha offered from across the room.

The elderly lady looked up, her eyes brightening. She seemed to relax all of a sudden. Natasha figured the woman was stressed out trying to figure out how she was going to get home on the bus or train, or both. She was still weak from her ordeal, it would be better for her to get a ride home. Well, now she had one if she wanted it. Her mother had always taught her to treat people the way she wanted to be treated. And there was no way she was going to let this kindly old woman continue to feel alone in her time of need.

"Thank you, dear, I really appreciate that. I'll have to get on those two children of mine. So busy, too busy for their own mother," she said.

She tried to hide her sorrow by making light of the situation.

"Cut them out of the will, that'll teach their ungrateful asses!" Natasha said, nodding matter-of-factly.

Mrs. Harnett looked at Natasha somewhat perplexed. She didn't know quite what to think of the young lady, but she liked her. She nodded.

"That is an option," she smiled.

"You bet it is. And when they're sitting in front of the lawyer, waiting to hear how much you left them, they'll be shocked to know you left everything to charity, or the cat if you have one," Natasha said.

The old lady giggled at the thought of seeing her children's faces when they received that news.

"You're making it sound even more tempting."

The nurse smiled and nodded, leaving the room to get Natasha something to eat. Natasha called down to her friend's room, waiting for her to pick up the phone.

"Hello?" greeted Annette.

"Hey, how are you feeling?"

"Shit girl, my back still hurts, and my arms are sore. Man, this sucks. I see partying with your ass is bad news," she said teasingly.

"I could say the same about you," Natasha responded. "They said I could go home today. So I have to call my mom, hopefully, I'll be outta here before they serve me this nasty-ass hospital food. If I have to eat one more bland-ass bowl of gelatin, I'm going into cardiac arrest," Natasha said.

Mrs. Harnett laughed from across the room, she had heard the young lady complaining about the hospital cuisine and had to agree. She too, was glad to be leaving.

"So, Miss I'm going to walk off into the sunset with my best friend's hot boss, what were you two doing last night?" Annette asked sarcastically.

"What do you mean, what could we have been doing?"

"Oh, lots of things, like getting your freak on. I saw the way you were looking at him. Fear not, I hold no grudges, the man is gorgeous. I'm not mad at you. Trust me, if I wasn't aching all over, I would have made the moves on him myself. You would have come into my room and found yourself in a predicament, let me tell ya!"

Annette snickered as she imagined her friend walking in on her and her hot boss, with her bent over the hospital bed while he gave it to her from behind.

Natasha knew why her friend was laughing, and shook her head.

"You're a lost soul, you know that. I know what your dirty mind is thinking of."

"Good, don't act like you weren't thinking of switching places in my fantasy. So, getting back to the question at hand, I thought you were too scared to be around the ... Unnnnndeaaad," she said, dragging out the last word, making it sound eerie.

Natasha did have to admit that the thought of being in the same room with a vampire did unnerve her. She hadn't expected to meet a vampire like Xavier, he was so romantic and such a gentleman. She had a hard time imagining Xavier feeding from a live, mortal victim. She could, in fact, imagine him wrapping his soft full lips around a bottle of Synblood. She wondered what Synblood tasted like to a vampire. She imagined it was like tofu to her.

"Well, we just talked, that's all. He seems so nice."

She related all about their time together, smiling to herself. She wanted to see him again, then remembered she didn't have his phone number. Did he even have a telephone? At least she knew where he worked. She was leaving the hospital later that day and she wanted to be able to give him her telephone number so that he could call her. She had no idea why she felt so comfortable around him, she barely knew him, but for some reason he didn't seem dangerous to her. She wondered just how dangerous he really was when he wanted to be.

"Uh hmm, 'just talked,' you say. So why do I hear something else in your voice. You like him don't you?" Annette asked, trying to get all of the juicy gossip.

"Well if you must know"

"Yeah, I must know! I've got to know!" Annette snapped playfully.

"Yes! Okay! Yeah, I like him, happy?"

"Are you happy? I know how scared you were, do you think you can trust him not to eat you?"

"I don't know, I mean, I can't stop him if he chooses to, but it seemed like that was the farthest thing from his mind. I think he wanted me in another way and let me tell you, girl, the feeling was very mutual. It's been a long time for me. But I'm still kind of like, 'egh' on having sex with a vampire. I wanted to ask him if he could but didn't know how to form the words right," she whispered, making sure that Mrs. Harnett didn't hear her discussing a sexual fantasy she had about a vampire, she didn't think that would be good for her to hear, seeing as Mrs. Harnett had survived a horrible vampire attack.

"Yeah, I bet they can fuck better than any mortal man," Annette speculated, her southern accent adding a certain twang to the words. She remembered how Xavier had made her feel, and a small tingle ran through her body.

"Yeah, I started to ask him and he just answered for me. He said that they could have sex and they could do it for hours if need be. I don't think I could even last for hours. If it is really good, I don't think I could last an hour," Natasha joked.

"Okay. Girl, guess what? Xavier is so fucking beautiful but you should really see his boss, the man that promoted me. Darian Alexander. This man is ... you know what? If you looked 'Unbelievably Gorgeous' up in the damn dictionary, you'd see a picture of him smiling, holding a rose. That's just how fine he is."

"Really? Well, that's a dangerous type of 'fine', Xavier's bad enough, already I'm thinking of him as a potential lover."

"So, why not, he can't do no worse than any mortal man. Unless I bring up the last contender," Annette said gravely.

Natasha frowned "No, Miss Rain On People's Parades, you don't have to bring up that asshole. I know. I know, that's the only reason I'm even considering giving Xavier my telephone number." She paused as she thought about dating a vampire. "Think I should? What would you do? Well, wait a minute; I know what you would do. But do you think I should, knowing me?" Natasha asked, doubting the relationship would grow.

She had spent a good part of two years avoiding supernatural hangouts, now here she was, faced with the decision to date one and possibly more. Natasha wondered if she could really go through with it.

"Well, I say go for it. What's to lose? Either you do or you don't, hard to say. You've got to ask yourself if you want to put up with his nighttime hours, his appetite for blood and whatever else he brings to the table," Annette advised.

Natasha was silent, the other woman made perfect sense. She had to think about this whole situation on a totally different level. She wondered if a relationship could work out. She really wanted to give him her telephone number so he could call her and they could set up a date, just to talk.

"Okay, since I'm going home today, I need for you to give him my telephone number, and that's if he stops by. Do you have his number, I mean his direct extension at Desires Unleashed?" she asked.

"I can't believe you are really considering this," Annette said, obviously shocked at her friend's new found courage to delve into the unknown. Natasha seemed so straight-laced to her, never wanting to party hard, never wanting to have a drink, always content to stay at home and read or watch TV. She never wanted to do anything at the spur of the moment. Now here she was, trying like hell to make a connection with a vampire—a beautiful, smart sexy vampire, but a bloodsucker nonetheless.

"No, I don't have his direct number, but I'll give him ours if he comes by. Tasha, what makes you think he'll come by?" she asked.

"He said he would. Test number one, can he keep his word?"

"Shit, you can say that again. Men do seem to have a hard-ass time keeping their promises, which includes keeping their wedding vows. That's why I'm totally against marriage. You can lie to me, but don't lie to God. If you have no intention of staying with me till death do us part, let's not waste the Lord's time. That's how I feel about it. Bastard-ass men, I hates them and I loves them!" Annette said.

Natasha laughed.

"It's the men that believe wholeheartedly in that 'till death do us part' that you have to worry about. That vow didn't say anything about dying of old age. Just only as long as you both shall live. Besides, you just hate spending any amount of time with them that would equal to a real relationship. You just like sleeping with them, and getting what you can out of their wallets."

"Well yeah, shit, they got to be good for something. Damn, don't you think? I mean, I love men but they require entirely too much attention. And some can be downright annoying. Like taking care of a big ass baby," Annette said, chuckling.

Natasha knew her friend had a quirky personality on her. She just loved Annette. The woman was funny and always made her day brighter.

"So don't forget to give him my number, okay? I have to call my mom to let her know she can pick me up today. I'll go grocery shopping; we need some food in the fridge."

"Okay, good, I hate shopping for anything but clothes. I can shop for clothes all day."

"You have more clothes than you need."

"Ha! Says who?"

"Okay, got to go. I'll stop by your room before I leave. Talk to you later."

"Bye." Annette hung up the telephone and laid back down on the bed. She was smiling, thinking about Natasha and Xavier.

Who would have guessed? she thought happily.

Natasha picked up the handset and dialed her mother's cell phone number. She waited as the phone rang, hoping her mother had her phone with her. She had told her mother time and time again to turn on the cell phone whenever she left the house. What was the point of having a cell phone if you're never going to leave it on? By the fourth ring, her mom had answered.

"Hello?" she greeted cautiously, not recognizing the telephone number on her caller ID.

"Hey mom, it's me. They said I could go home today. I'm still really sore, but I'll be okay. Can you come and get me?" Natasha asked.

She looked up as the nurse and doctor came into the room, remaining quiet while she was on the telephone. The doctor removed her chart from her bed, looking it over. He was medium height, about five-feet nine-inches. Kind of short for the modern day man ... or was he? He had salt and pepper hair cut short and combed back. His hazel eyes scanned over her chart, dark eyebrows knitting slightly.

"Sure, what time shall I pick you up?"

"As soon as possible. Oh, and Mom, my roommate here doesn't have a ride home, she's an elderly woman. Hold on, let me get her address," Natasha pressed the receiver to her chest and looked at Mrs. Harnett.

"Mrs. Harnett, where do you live?" she asked. The elderly woman looked at her and smiled.

Mrs. Harnett gave Natasha her address.

"Is that going to be out of your way? Because if it is, don't worry about me, dear. I don't want to be an inconvenience."

"No, no, not an inconvenience at all," she lied. She put the receiver back to her ear, "Mom"

"I've already heard," her mother sighed.

She didn't mind helping out her fellow man. Even though it was out of her way, she'd do it. She did teach her daughter to help those in need.

"I'll be there in a little while, okay? Probably about a quarter after twelve, is that going to be all right?"

"Yeah, perfect, bye Mom."

"See you later," her mom corrected her. "You know how I dislike the word 'bye'."

"Yes Mom, see you in a few."

"That's better," her mother said, before hanging up the telephone.

Natasha looked at the doctor.

"So what's up, Doc? I hear I can go home today, I was just calling my mother to tell her she could pick me up." She smiled, happy to be getting out of the germ infested hospital and nothing anyone could say would make her think otherwise.

The doctor nodded as he looked at the file then up at Natasha.

"Why are you taking Triadonex?" the doctor asked.

"Well, I've been taking it for as long as I can remember. I started getting these headaches when I was a small child. So, my family doctor put me on the medication. Why?" she asked, sitting up in bed, much more alert.

"Well, you put down that you take it for migraines, but Triadonex is a dream suppressant. Do you dream much, Miss Hemingway?" the doctor asked.

Natasha thought about it and shook her head. She had no idea the medicine she had been taking all her life wasn't what it seemed. Why the hell was she taking dream suppressants? The doctor smiled as his calm, hazel eyes eased her mounting anxiety somewhat. She was going to have to talk with her doctor to see why she was kept on the medication. She felt at a loss all of a sudden. Had she been lied to for over twenty years, or was there some other reason why she had been taking the medication? She was starting to feel uneasy.

"Thanks, Doctor, for everything. I don't think I'll be taking any more of this medication until I know the real reason. And no, I don't normally dream, but since we're on the subject, I've been having a lot of random dreams, one after another," she said, obviously frustrated.

"Like what? Can you remember anything, any portion of these dreams? Would you like us to run a few tests?" he asked, hoping to gain more money.

He took out his little medical light and was holding Natasha's head upward as he examined her pupils.

"No, that won't be necessary, Doctor."

She didn't want to owe the hospital any more than she already did; she especially didn't want to add on any unnecessary costs. She had just landed a brand new job and her insurance plan hadn't even been established yet. She had mentally calculated the current cost of the ambulance ride over, the medication, the emergency room assistance and the hospital stay. In retrospect, she kind of wished they had left her in the back seat of the cab. Sure, I'd be a bit woozy, but I would have gotten home okay, no worries, she thought to herself indulging in a bit of inappropriate humor.

"Okay, well, you're free to go at any time. Since you've called your mother, I'll just sign your release papers and you can be on your way," he smiled.

He gave a similar farewell to Mrs. Harnett.

Mrs. Harnett thanked them both for taking such good care of her. The doctor assured her it was nothing.

Natasha wanted to laugh. Sure, it was nothing, but you'll still get the bill, she thought to herself.

Then the nurse and the doctor left the room to allow the two ladies to get prepared to go home. Natasha combed out the tangles in her hair. She couldn't believe Xavier had been interested in her when she looked the way she did. Maybe there was hope yet for a relationship. She came out of the bathroom and Mrs. Harnett went in. While Mrs. Harnett was in the bathroom, Natasha had to put on her club outfit, and there were some dried bloodstains on the clothes. She hoped her mom would bring her a fresh change of clothes. Her mom normally thought about things like that. Mrs. Harnett came out of the bathroom just as her mother came through the door.

"Hi, Mom!" Natasha said excitedly, giving her a big hug. "Did you remember to bring me a change of clothes?" she asked, keeping her fingers crossed.

"Yes, I brought you a change of clothes. I've noticed you've lost a lot of weight, honey. I'm so proud of you for getting healthier. Never let anything get you so down that you'll neglect yourself. Besides, there's a man out there who will love you for the treasure that you are. Understand me, young lady?" her mother said sternly.

Natasha nodded. "Yes Mom."

No point in arguing, her mom was right. She took the bag of clothes her mom had brought for her. She looked into the bag and thankfully saw a pair of blue jeans and a red, ribbed, turtle neck sweater. Her mom always had excellent taste. She turned around and introduced her mother to the older woman who needed the ride.

"Mom, this is Mrs. Harnett. She couldn't reach either of her two children to come and pick her up, so I offered her a ride home," Natasha said as she walked into the bathroom to change.

"I hope I'm not causing a problem?" Mrs. Harnett asked sincerely.

"Oh, no, no... not at all. I wouldn't feel right about leaving you here, stranded. Not in this day and age," Mrs. Marian Hemingway told the grateful elderly lady.

Natasha emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed. The pants were a bit large, but the clothes would do. She walked over to her bed and gathered all of her belongings, which weren't much; along with of all the free stuff she was taking from the hospital. She left the bed pan. The three women exited the room and headed for the elevator. Natasha remembered she was going to stop by Annette's room before she left.

"Mom, one minute... Annette's here too, I promised I'd say goodbye to her. I'll meet you downstairs."

She walked toward Annette's room without waiting for a response. She knocked on the door and heard a faint 'come in' and she opened the door. Annette smiled as she entered the room. She was looking a little better on this day than the day before. The dark circles under her eyes were lightening up, and her color had improved. Her arm was still in a cast, the cuts and bruises were still there, just like her own. She walked over to the bed and hugged her friend lightly.

"I'm leaving now, but I'll visit you tomorrow and bring you some real food, okay?" Natasha said.

"Your ass better, cause if you don't," she held up her good fist and shook it to prove her point.

"You're not going do to anything," Natasha mocked.

"I'll beat you in your sleep, that's what I'll do. You don't have to be awake for me to exact my revenge," Annette said, trying to not laugh.

"Un hmm, well, I'm off. Talk to you later." Natasha gave the other woman one last hug and a kiss on the cheek.

She felt bad having to leave her friend in the hospital. Maybe she would surprise her and come back later that night. The soreness in her body was going to be a deciding factor on whether or not she'd be able to tolerate the two bus rides and a train transit it would take to get to the hospital. She thought about it and decided she would stick to the plan. Tomorrow she'd visit.

She left Annette's room and got on the elevator. She met her mom and Mrs. Harnett in the lobby. They walked to her mom's red Diamondback Sahara S4. She liked her mom's car, it was perfect for her. They all climbed in, Mrs. Harnett sitting in the back, thankful for the comfortable seat. Natasha's mom put the car into gear and headed toward the outer drive going northbound.

Mrs. Harnett gave directions the closer they got to her neighborhood until they pulled in front of her little, yellow frame house with the red brick foundation. Natasha helped her out of the car before she climbed back into the passenger side.

"Thank you so much for the ride, you and your mother," Mrs. Harnett said.

"Oh, you're welcome," Natasha said.

They sat in the car and waited as Mrs. Harnett fished through her purse for her keys to open the door. She waved goodbye, then walked inside.

The conversation on the way to Mrs. Harnett's house had been between her mother and Mrs. Harnett. The two women discussed the current situation with the supernatural race vs. the human race, the crime rate in this country and above all, the good old days. Natasha wished she could have tuned them out, but she couldn't. Her stomach growled. She had escaped the hospital in time to avoid eating the food, but now she was starving. She wondered how Xavier felt when he first woke up. Was he ravenous? Would he recognize her before taking a bite?

She let her thoughts run wild while looking out at the busy city streets as they drove on. They passed China Town. She had always liked going there. The buildings had the shingled, tiered roof tops, dragon statues and mini towers. She wondered if it really looked like a piece of China. She didn't know, but she loved the food. There was a particular restaurant she loved to frequent when she had the money. They made the best smoothies, bar none. Her mother continued to drive until Natasha asked her to pull into a supermarket so she could buy some groceries. Her mother parked the car in the lot and the women climbed out. Natasha could move a little easier than before, the painkillers were really kicking in and making everything more bearable. They walked through the automatic doors and her mom grabbed a cart.

She assisted her daughter in reaching for items off of the shelf. Natasha had made a list and gave her mom half. Her mom took her half of the list and walked off to retrieve the items. Natasha moved further down the aisle looking at the directory signs overhead. She was searching for the canned goods section when she rounded the corner and collided into a boulder of a man. She lost her balance and would have fallen, possibly ending up back in the hospital had he not caught her. Her hands brushed the watch on his wrist and she felt a little shock through her fingertips. She looked up into his face as he steadied her. He was huge, standing at least six-feet-nine inches tall. He was the biggest man she'd ever seen.

He looked at her with cold blue eyes. His brown hair was cut short in a military buzz cut. His shoulders were almost as wide as the aisle itself and she could tell he was all muscle. In Natasha's opinion, he was a real man, no doubt about it. The kind that eats beef jerky he made himself from the cow he slaughtered with his bare hands. He held several packages of beef clutched in his right arm. His leather vest smelled new. His jeans were worn and had holes in the knees. When she was finally out of harm's way, she gave him a bashful smile.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't see you. I know that's probably something you've never heard anyone say," she joked awkwardly, trying to make light of the situation.

There was something in the way he looked at her that made her nervous. He gave her a wolfish grin, revealing rather sharp incisors. They looked like little fangs to Natasha. She wanted to get away from him as soon as possible.

"No need to apologize," he said as he walked away toward the check-out line.

Natasha looked at him. The uneasy feeling was still close to her. He really freaked her out. She walked away with a slight shiver, finishing her shopping. Rejoining her mother, who had completed her half of the list. They entered the check-out line. She paid for the groceries, put them into the car and climbed back in. Less than fifteen minutes later, she was in front of her apartment building. Her mother helped carry the groceries into the apartment. She stayed around to see if her daughter needed any help.

"Mom, I'll be all right, you don't have to stick around. Thanks for everything," Natasha said.

She walked over to her mother to give her a big hug, as strong as her body would allow.

"Okay, you just call me if you need anything, all right?" she asked as she headed for the front door.

Natasha nodded and waved. She loved her mother, but she didn't want to hear anymore motherly advice. She had heard enough on the way home. How she needed to get her own car. Not letting people talk her into doing things she wouldn't normally do, such as getting drunk and so on. She was glad to be at home. After settling in, she remembered that she wanted to catch Xavier to let him know that she was no longer in the hospital. She reached in her pocket pulling out the piece of paper with the phone number to Desires Unleashed on it, and dialed. The telephone rang several times before a female voice answered.

"Desires Unleashed, where you can release your inhibitions. How may I cater to you?" the voice asked seductively.

Natasha wondered if she received a lot of calls from men who just wanted to hear that sexy voice.

"Hello, my name is Natasha Hemingway and I'm trying to get in contact with Xavier Richards." She paused.

"Mr. Richards will not be in until tonight, you can try back after five or six p.m."

"Well, can you leave him my number for him to call me? I'd really appreciate it."

"Will do, what's the number?" She had taken on a more normal tone of speaking.

Natasha wanted to chuckle, must be cool to work under a façade. She gave the woman her phone number, area code included.

"Okay, as soon as Mr. Richards gets in tonight, I'll give this to him. Is there anything else?" the woman asked.

"No, that was it. Thank you. Goodbye." Both of the women ended the connection.

Natasha sat on the sofa for a few minutes thinking about Xavier, she smiled, feeling giddy. Then her stomach rumbled, letting her know it was time to make something to eat. She walked into the kitchen with the little yellow and white daisy covered wallpaper she hated. She wanted to tear it down, but Annette liked it, saying it reminded her of the kitchen she grew up in back home in Charleston, South Carolina. Natasha didn't argue, but she still thought it was ugly. She looked into the refrigerator, shuffled a few items around till she found the sliced roast beef she'd just bought along with some lettuce, cheese, tomatoes and onions. She placed all of the food on the counter top and began making a double stacked sandwich, adding two layers of everything. She wondered if her eyes may be too big for her stomach but there was no law against saving some for later. She poured a tall glass of juice, then sat down comfortably on the sofa in the small living room. The living room was only big enough for the brown sofa with two matching chairs, a wooden coffee table and the thirty-two inch screen TV she and Annette had purchased together for Christmas a year ago. Turning on the cable with the remote, she surfed through the channels, complaining that there was never anything worthwhile on cable.

"Hundreds of channels of garbage," she whispered out loud as she passed channel after channel of reruns, music videos and sports.

She finally settled on an old movie she had once seen as a child and loved. She settled back, watching a marathon of classic movies featuring unforgettable actors and actresses. She had drifted off to sleep when the telephone rang, jarring her awake. She sat up quickly, upsetting her equilibrium, almost falling off of the sofa. She paused for a second then grabbed the telephone receiver.

"Hello?" she greeted groggily.

"I'm sorry, did I wake you?" asked a masculine, sexy voice.

Natasha didn't recognize this strange man calling her house.

"I'm sorry, but who's calling?"

"It's me, Xavier, you left your telephone number, you wanted me to get in contact with you. Is this a bad time?"

His voice was smooth as silk. As it purred through the receiver, goosebumps surfaced on Natasha's skin. She remembered how he affected her and wanted to talk with him, get to know him.

"No, no, I did want you to call me. I wanted to talk."

"Do you want me to come over?" he asked.

"Yeah." She gave him her address. "It's a three story apartment building with a red awning in the front. There's an intercom, I'll have to buzz you in. The name on the intercom is ..." she sighed. "... Two Hotties."

She could hear Xavier chuckle softly. She couldn't blame him, it was ridiculous, but it had been Annette's idea.

"All right, I can be there in about thirty minutes. Are you hungry?" he asked smoothly.

"Um, a little, but you just make sure you're not. I don't want to look appetizing to anyone," she said sternly.

Xavier chuckled. He admired her blatant honesty, finding her unique form of expression charming.

"I've already fed. I just want to take care of you. I'm on my way. See you then."

He hung up. Natasha felt her heart jump in her throat. She had just invited a vampire into her house. She felt the excitement rush throughout her body and could hardly keep still. She walked through the apartment making sure no unmentionables were visible. Once she had feminine-proofed the apartment, she waited. She looked at the clock, the time was 7:42 P.M. It had only been twenty minutes since she talked with Xavier. She hoped he would be there within the thirty minutes he'd stated. Before she had time to think any further on Xavier's promptness, her intercom buzzed. She jumped off the couch then paused as the pain in her muscles forced her to calm down. She slowly walked to the intercom and hit the button.

"Hello?" She leaned into the intercom speaker.

"It's me, Xavier."

Even over the loud disruptive reception of the intercom, his voice was clear and sexy.

She pressed the button to unlock the door to the building's entrance. Before she could take her hand off of the release button, there was a knock at her door. She walked to the door.

"Who is it?"

It couldn't be Xavier, she had just buzzed him in, this must be a neighbor, she thought.

"Xavier."

It was him. She couldn't believe how fast he got up to the third floor. She peeked through the peephole and sure enough, there he stood, looking down the hallway. She unlocked the door, opening it. He turned to face her and smiled. He was breathtaking, wearing a smoke gray blazer over a black silk shirt and smoke gray flat-front pants. The cut of the pants really showed off his flat stomach, and made an impressive impact in the crotch area. She smiled, stepping to the side, allowing him entrance. He walked past her carrying a pizza box. Natasha's stomach growled as the aroma of the pizza wafted up to her nostrils.

"Where should I put this?" he asked, indicating the box of pizza.

"Oh, you can put it right there."

She pointed to the coffee table in front of the sofa. He set it down, then took a seat on the sofa crossing one long leg over the other, right hand resting in his lap, the left, resting on the armrest. He looked at her.

"Are you going to come and sit down, or not? I promise I won't bite," he joked.

She smirked at him then walked over to the sofa and sat down ... cautiously. She looked at him, definitely feeling an attraction to him, acknowledging her desire for his body. But she was also afraid of him. She decided to play it cool, he still didn't seem to pose a threat. She opened the pizza box and looked at the delicious smelling pizza topped with the works, not a vegetable or meat unaccounted for. She looked at him, and smiled.

"What are you trying to do, fatten me up for the kill?" she joked as she reached into the box, pulling away a slice and taking a bite out of it, working the long strings of melted cheese into her mouth with her lips.

Xavier smiled as he watched her eat.

"I picked their deluxe. Everyone there said it was the best thing on the menu," he said.

"Well, it's delicious. Thank you." She looked at him. "I'd like to just talk, if you don't mind. There are some things I'd like to ask you. I've never really seen a vampire in real life ... at least not one I was aware of. And well, I wanted to know more about you," she said with all honesty.

He looked at her, he seemed thoughtful.

"Okay. Whatever you want to ask me, feel free. I'll answer all of your questions to the best of my ability."

"Are any of the myths true?"

"Are you talking about wooden stakes and holy water?"

"Yeah, like that?" Natasha asked.

"No. None of that can harm us, or irritate us in any way. The only thing that can kill us or do us harm is the sun, fire, or decapitation. We can be injured as well, to the point where it may take days to heal, however it's very hard to injure vampires. But to my knowledge, what I mentioned are the only things that can kill us. That's why I have to take my hat off to the mortal world for equipping their police force with all of the weapons necessary to protect themselves. Really! Ultraviolet bullets are simply amazing."

He seemed truly astounded.

"What about when you go to sleep, do you sleep in coffins, or in dirt?"

Xavier laughed outright, his hand slapping his thigh.

"Neither," he stated, still chuckling. "I choose to sleep in a bed, but there are some of our kind who choose to sleep in coffins, or even underground."

"Can you make, well, do you ... you know, when you have sex?"

The blood had rushed to her face, and her cheeks were reddening.

He looked at her, his head slightly cocked sideways. He smiled.

"Well, let me explain it this way. When we have sex, there is a release with the orgasm. But we are sterile, we can never reproduce. Our bodies are reanimated, so to speak, nightly, basically functioning much like a normal human body, after we've fed, of course. That is why it's hard to differentiate one of us from one of you. Our skin is warm to the touch, but if you've noticed, we sweat, we can cry, and we can ejaculate."

Natasha's eyes were as huge as saucers as she listened to Xavier. Her mind raced with every detail he revealed. She was asking Xavier all of the questions that ran through her mind. Questions that were brought on by every vampire movie she'd ever seen and every vampire book she'd ever read and just her own curiosity.

Xavier continued, "Unfortunately, we cannot digest human food. Wait, I'll take that back. The oldest of our kind are practically invincible. They can carry on lives just like you. But for me, I'm too young to be able to have such luxuries. I have to feed nightly, I cannot digest human food, or go out into the sunlight. I'm well asleep before daybreak and I haven't seen a sunrise, or sunset in over seventy years."

He smiled gently as he watched her reaction. It was apparent that she was saddened by what he'd told her. To have to sacrifice so much, she wondered if being a vampire was worth it.

Xavier went on. "I know that once we get a certain age, we become resilient to the sun. Older vampires can walk around in the sunlight, just like any human, and even enjoy food. Mind you, they do not receive any nutrients from human food, just the thrill of eating, and the taste of the different cuisine. However, they must rid themselves of the food in the very same way that humans do. You can imagine how an ancient vampire views this option. Many of them choose not to eat human food. I have a long time before I can see those days come."

"Do you regret any of it, not being able to have kids, or anything else?"

He thought about her question for a moment.

"Sometimes. But there's always a price to pay, and we pay for our immortality."

It was now Natasha's turn to think about his response.

"Why do you want to go out with me? You're a vampire, wouldn't you prefer your own kind?" she asked.

"Why? Why not? I find you intriguing, beautiful, humorous and kindhearted, besides the alternative of not being with you is unthinkable. The only thing standing in the way of our having a relationship, is you. Can you date a vampire?" he asked, turning the tables.

"Well, I don't know. I can try. I mean I like you. I can give it a shot; it's still really weird to me. I'll need time to get to know you better, but I think I can still give it a shot," she said as she finished her third slice of pizza.

"Good."

He smiled then a thought occurred to him, should he tell her about Darian now or later? He decided to wait for later, after they got better acquainted. He sat back, asking her questions about herself, what were her hobbies and her least favorite things.

"See, I enjoy going to the movies as well. We both like the same actors and actresses. Well, except for that one guy, I don't particularly care for him," Xavier said as he lounged on the sofa.

Natasha had settled in the chair next to the sofa. She chuckled at his jokes, he was surprisingly funny. And she realized that she felt very relaxed in his company.

"So," she asked, getting more serious. "You're a vampire and now that we are here together, you seem like a regular guy, but just how dangerous are you? Have you ever killed anyone?"

He pulled himself up into a sitting position.

"Well, I was waiting for that question." He chuckled softly. "I live a different life than you do. Vampires live a different life than humans, yet it's a similar type of life. We have wars, and betrayal. We handle it in our own way, which can be violent. As far as how dangerous I am ... I can be very dangerous and yes I have killed people. Does that upset you?" he asked, his expression had grown serious.

Natasha looked into his gray eyes. She knew that he was telling the truth, which earned him some major points in her book. She doubted a human man would be so totally honest. Were vampires more honest, or did it just seem that way? Or is it simply the way Xavier is?

"No ... well ... in a way, it does. As of right now, I don't know what I think about that. I have my thoughts, but then I realize you're not like me and that has to be taken into consideration." She sighed. "I need to think about all of this; it's a scary truth, knowing that you've killed people."

"I can imagine, but I don't kill for fun, only out of necessity. I want you to know that I do understand your apprehension. I'm also pleased that you asked such a bold question. I'm impressed." Xavier smiled.

"Can I ask why you killed them?"

"Would any answer I give you ease your conscious?"

"Probably not, but it will give me that much needed insight I'm looking for," Natasha said.

"Fair enough, the people I've killed posed a threat to me and others. They were not of innocent blood," Xavier answered.

"I see. I wanted to know the truth. Listen Xavier, I really like you, but it's kind of hard for me to imagine you killing someone, even out of necessity. I'm glad you answered the question, but it's really giving me something to think about," she said.

"Understandable. Why don't I let you get some rest, you look exhausted."

"I am, thanks," Natasha said, rising from the chair.

Xavier retrieved his coat from the arm of the sofa and put it on. They walked toward the door, he opened it and stepped out into the hallway, then turned to say "goodbye".

"Why don't I give you my number so you may contact me."

He took out a pen from the inside pocket of his blazer and a piece of paper, he wrote down his number and handed it to Natasha.

"Call me anytime, um, after sunset." He chuckled.

Natasha took the paper, glancing at the number. She smiled, knowing he had trusted her with that information. She looked up at him.

"May I ask you something? Can you enter a house without being invited?"

He grinned mischievously.

"Yes," he said, then turned and walked down the hall.

When he had reached the stairway, he looked back at her.

"Call me. I'll be thinking about you."

He blew her a kiss, then vanished as if he had teleported instantly, startling Natasha who wondered if he had done just that. She would have to ask him about that later. She closed the door, still experiencing mild fatigue. She decided to get some rest and fast. She wanted to be alert for her first day on the job. She walked into the bathroom and took a shower, using her favorite Anisi's bath products. She rinsed, toweled off, then put on her pajamas then climbed into bed, drifting off to sleep the instant her head hit the pillow.

***

She stood over a prone figure of a woman crying as she lay tied to a metal, blood-stained table. The woman was begging for her life. Natasha could hear herself laughing, a deep husky laughter. The laughter was not hers, though it seemed as if it was. She ran huge manly hands over the woman's body, suddenly claws started to extend. The woman screamed and began thrashing against her restraints. The clawed hand stabbed through the woman's stomach, causing the woman to cry out. Thick, dark red blood bubbled then flowed from the wounds made by the clawed fingers. Natasha could feel the woman's skin ripping as the fur-covered, clawed hand disemboweled her while she cried, screamed, and begged for her life.

Natasha had never heard anyone scream in agony, true agony. It made her skin crawl. Blood and tissue poured freely from the wound as several yards of intestine came spilling out of the victim's abdomen. Natasha could feel an indescribable hunger rise inside of her caused by the scent of the blood. She could hear the laughter of another—feminine laughter. She looked up to see a beautiful woman with pale skin and long, black hair ending at her thighs, enter the room. She wore a black, leather cat suit with black four-inch heeled boots. Her fangs had extended and her eyes glowed bright red.

Natasha felt herself panic, forcing herself to wake up. The first thing she saw were two bright red eyes staring at her through the darkness from across the room. She screamed and quickly turned on the lamp on top of the nightstand. She looked frantically around the room, but the eyes she'd seen were no longer visible. Her sheets were soaked with sweat, her hair was plastered to her face. Her heart pounded in her chest. She felt thirsty. She climbed out of the bed and went to get a glass of water from the bathroom. She drank the water down quickly and just as quickly refilled the glass for a second round. Afterward, she set the glass down on the edge of the sink and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked frightened as she stared at her reflection.

"It was just a dream! Just a dream, you're being ridiculous. Those eyes were just a figment of your overactive imagination. Go back to bed, it was only a bad dream. Everything is okay," she told herself. The words worked and she finally began to feel herself calming down.

Taking several deep breaths, she walked quickly back into her bedroom. She slowly looked around the room, giving everything a thorough inspection. After she made sure she was the only one in the room, she climbed back into bed but was restless and unable to fall asleep. She lay in bed, sheets pulled up to her neck staring at the ceiling. She looked at the clock, it was 3:42 A.M. She had to get some sleep. She closed her eyes, willing herself to fall asleep.

She was awakened by the TV alarm coming on and the channel Seven news blasting in her ears. She opened her eyes to see the sun was shining brightly into her window. She shielded her eyes and looked at her clock, the time was 7:05 A.M.

"Shit!" she said as she jumped out of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom.

She rushed into the shower, brushing her teeth at the same time. She hopped out and toweled herself off as she walked to her closet. She had picked out something really special to wear on her first day at work and she was excited about that. She sat on the bed and pulled on her stockings.

She looked up at the TV to see the news anchorwoman announcing another gruesome murder.

"... And the body of what police think may have been a woman, was found today in an alley located at 55th and Garfield. It was reported that the head was missing and the body was devoid of some of its internal organs. S.U.I.T. detectives are on the scene. Let's go live to Brian, who is at the scene right now and has one of the detectives with him. Brian?" the anchorwoman announced as the camera cut to Brian, an African American male with a bald head, wearing a long, brown trench coat.

He was pressing his ear piece closer so that he could listen for his cue.

"That's right, Amanda, I have with me right now, Detective Warren Davis from the government's Special Unit Investigation Team. He and his partner, Detective Matthew Eric, have been on these gruesome and disturbing cases since Friday." He put the microphone into the face of the handsome detective. "Detective, do you have any information for us?"

Natasha looked at Detective Davis, wondering where all of these beautiful men were suddenly coming from. She loved looking at hot cops, what woman didn't like a man in uniform? Especially one as physically fit as this one. She stopped her dirty thoughts long enough to listen to what he had to say.

"Well, it is pretty early in this investigation and we have a few leads but nothing concrete. We'll keep you posted. That is all for now, thank you," he said as he walked away.

Natasha felt her throat tighten. The dream she had last night was really weird. She would never have dreamed that, would she? Maybe it was because she ate pizza before going to bed. Maybe it was her lack of medication. She shook her head, she wouldn't dwell on that. She had a big day ahead of her. She had to go to work then visit her friend in the hospital. She put on the rest of her clothes—a black, wool-blend skirt with matching double breasted jacket, a white, pullover satin shell underneath. She checked herself over in the mirror. Aside from the bandages, and a few dark, purplish bruises here and there on her face, she was satisfied with the finished result. She grabbed her keys, her purse and left for work.

Chapter Sixteen

"This fucking son-of-a-bitch is pulling our damn chains!" Warren cursed through his teeth as he climbed into his truck, slamming the door shut.

He sat in the truck trying to regain control over his anger. Matthew slid into the seat beside him, staying silent, not wanting to keep Warren inflamed by asking questions. When Warren had finally calmed down, Matthew spoke.

"This wolf, do you think he might be watching us now? Think he's in the area?"

Warren shook his head. "Not likely. I would have caught his scent, but I'm sure the bastard's watching the fucking news and probably laughing his fucking ass off! We look like fools. We have nothing to go on. I've scanned the crime scene, practically putting my fucking nose to the ground and can't find shit! He picked his spots wisely, like the shoulder on the side of a busy street. He did it for fun and, well, it's like this." He turned in the seat so that he was facing his partner.

"You got exhibitionists who fuck in public for fun. It's the excitement that they might get caught even though they don't want to, but the thought of getting caught adds more excitement. This murderer wants us to get close enough to him, but not too close, that would kill the excitement. That's why he leaves us little clues, like the fur left on the body the other day. That wasn't an accident; he wanted us to find it. He knows what he's doing."

"Why do you think it's taking the heads?" Matthew asked.

He didn't like this case one bit. Warren was right; they were working with at least one professional. The kind of killer that sometimes took years to capture, one who loved the chase and eluding the cops for the thrill of it.

"Trophies. I'm willing to bet that somewhere there's about three heads, shit, maybe more, mounted on a wall with blood dripping from their torn necks. You know, I'm thinking when they put the body on the side of the road like that they did it in the middle of the night, probably around two or three in the morning. Not many people driving along the road at that time. Most won't stop nor do they care why a car is pulled over on the side of the road. So that allows them the excitement of getting rid of a body in the open public and no one seeing anything. I can't fucking understand why I can't find a scent to trace."

He shook his head, perplexed. He turned back in his seat and started the engine.

"Let's go back to headquarters to see what they may have found on the body from this morning," Matthew suggested.

This case was really frustrating him. They now knew for certain that this was another serial killer case, like that child-murdering freak from a few years back. And he had been human. Matthew didn't know what to expect from a serial killing werewolf. Would now be a good time to retire? Matthew speculated.

"I looked over the body, thoroughly. I don't know how much more Marshall's going to find," Warren said as he drove down the crowded streets, beeping his horn at people who didn't seem to care that he had the right of way.

The rudeness of some people annoyed him. He drove back to headquarters, only stopping once along the way to pick up some of his favorite donuts. He and Matthew ate a few on the way, leaving the box in the truck. They entered the elevator and pressed the button to the lower level. Once they reached their destination, they exited and turned down the dimly lit hallway toward the morgue, walking through the double doors. They saw Marshall Galen, bent over the remains of the female corpse that was discovered earlier that morning. He was wearing a light blue t-shirt and a pair of brown worn-out jeans that slightly sagged off of his waist.

This man really needs a makeover, Warren thought as he walked over to the corpse.

Matthew stayed a few paces back while his partner glanced at the mutilated body. Matthew had avoided getting a good look at the body at the crime scene. The sight of the insides hanging out all torn and shredded made his stomach turn.

He walked away, gagging, both Warren and Marshall glancing up, watching him. Warren wondered if Matthew was going to puke. Matthew struggled with his nausea, then turned around facing Warren, taking deep breaths. Warren could see Matthew's flesh turn a pale green.

"Are you okay, buddy?" he asked.

Matthew nodded.

"Yeah, I'll be all right, let's just do this," he said.

Warren was intrigued by what could turn a person's stomach. For instance, if he saw anyone eating anything molded, spoiled, or rotten, he would become instantly nauseous. He once saw a movie where the actor supposedly ate a chicken wing that was spoiled to the point where the meat was green and a greenish gelatinous substance had formed on it, Warren barely made it to the bathroom in time. Still to this day, just thinking about that particular movie made him sick to his stomach. Needless to say, he never finished watching it. Warren looked at his partner one last time then turned to face the pathologist. Marshall Galen had discovered very little.

"Whoever is doing the killings, they're covering their tracks better than anyone I've ever seen. This killer damages the bodies far too much for anything to be recognizable. Look at these entrails."

He held up a handful of intestine, bits and pieces of torn flesh and globs of dried blood slid off and plopped back into the exposed abdomen. Warren felt his mouth filling with saliva. He didn't want to take any deep breaths, that would only make it worse. From behind him came an ugly sound, followed by the sound of retching. He turned around to see Matthew leaning over the sink, puking up his breakfast. Marshall looked up frowning and shook his head. He thought these specially trained cops would be used to this type of stuff. And here was one of the best cops on the unit, barfing in his stainless steel sink. He knew one thing; he wasn't going to clean it up.

Matthew had finished retching and turned on the faucet, rinsing his mouth as he rinsed away all of the vomit. His face was pale, but he could feel the blood rushing to his cheeks, embarrassed to have lost his breakfast. He was known to have a cast iron stomach but the conditions of this last victim sickened him, although he couldn't quite put his finger on why it affected him so.

"Feeling any better? Do you want to wait outside?" Warren asked in a slightly teasing voice. "Do you need to lay down, put your feet up? Want a pillow?" He chuckled.

Matthew grimaced at him, flipping him the finger as he headed for the double doors. Warren chuckled again before getting back to the business at hand.

"So what do you think, Doc?" he asked.

"Well, I think this shifter is playing around with you guys. The intestines are ripped to shreds and the spleen and kidneys are missing. The killer ripped into the stomach and you can say 'fished around' for the goodies, so to speak. You two got a real sick puppy on your hands, literally."

Marshall removed a handkerchief from his pocket and proceeded to wipe his glasses clean.

"I'm thinking this killer is keeping the heads for trophies and he may be eating the organs. Did you find any fur or anything like that?"

"Nope, this was a clean job, well as clean as it can be. There aren't any prints on what's left of this body, no fur, not even an eyelash. Too bad the DNA lab can't track down your boy based off of that fur we found the last time," Marshall said.

"I know, all we can do is match what we've got. If we had prints, that'd be different," Warren replied.

"I'll keep examining this body, see what else I can find. Now, go on, get out there and do your job. Try to keep my morgue empty, all right?" He pleaded, as he placed the intestines back into the abdomen. He packed them in, pressing down on the entrails to get them to stay in place. Warren felt his hunger rise and decided now was a good time to leave.

"I'll do what I can," he said as he headed towards the double doors.

Once he stepped outside, he took a deep breath exhaling slowly.

Matthew was leaning against the wall, head down, his skin color had returned to normal. He looked up when Warren approached.

"Can't believe I lost it in there. I still don't know what happened."

"You lost it? I almost lost it. Face it, we make a pretty fucked up pair."

"Yeah, but I've never seen you get sick."

"Nope, but I'm more likely to eat the evidence, and that's worse. Come on." He gestured to his partner and they walked down the hallway back to the elevator. They were still at square one and couldn't do a thing, except sit and twiddle their thumbs.

***

Natasha had a rough day at work. She had no idea they would just thrust her into the job like that. She worked four hours on her feet, taking photos of various crime scenes. The corpses were long gone, but they wanted to photo-document the crime scenes for tomorrow's news scoop. They were calling this killer the "HEADHUNTER". It was grim to Natasha, she hated how the media had to add sensationalism to every maniac. She wondered why they always gave criminals jazzy names like the "CHICAGO HELL RAISER," or "THE MIDNIGHT STRANGLER," so now, the perpetrators could clip out newspaper articles about themselves, featuring their new cool nickname. Why not call them "THE CRAZY ASSHOLE," or "THE SICK, COWARDLY FUCK," because that's what they were. Call it like it really was, that's all she was saying.

She almost didn't want to stand up when the train came to her stop but she had promised Annette she would visit her. Several of the other passengers were nice enough to offer up their seats after they saw how bruised and battered she was, that helped. But she really just wanted to go home. She hadn't gotten much rest the night before and she was feeling the effects now. She stepped off the train and walked down the platform with the rest of the evening rush hour crowd. She walked down the steps slowly as people rushed past her, throwing her nasty glances until they saw her face and thought they'd better keep their mouths shut. To them, Natasha either liked to fight or had just gotten beat up pretty badly and didn't look like she needed any more drama.

She walked to a restaurant close to the hospital and ordered an Italian combination with cheese and mixed peppers for her friend. Getting an order of seasoned fries on the side, she ordered the same for herself, even though she knew it wasn't helping her diet. Tonight's dinner, combined with the pizza from last night, was definitely breaking the rules. After paying for their orders, she walked the eight blocks to the hospital and decided after the walk to the hospital, she'd gotten her exercise for the week and Annette wasn't going to be home to harass her about it either. She walked to the front desk and the nurse behind the desk looked tired, stray wisps of hair framed her face; her eyes were dulled from fatigue. When she spoke, her voice was low and weary. It made Natasha feel bad for having to bother her for a visitor's pass.

The lady didn't bother saying another word once Natasha told her who she was coming to see. She wrote her name down on a white label and tossed it on the top of the counter. Natasha didn't appreciate having things tossed at her but she didn't want to get into a confrontation right now. Swallowing her ire, she stepped into the open elevator and pressed the number three button, getting off on the third floor. She arrived at Annette's room and the young woman turned to look at her, smiling as she entered.

"About time you brought your sorry ass in here, don't you know people are hungry?" she asked jokingly, as she held her one good hand out, fingers outstretched and wiggling to indicate her desperation for the food.

Natasha laughed and walked over to the bed, but out of arms reach and dangled the bag of food in front of Annette, who began to whine. "Aww, come on, gimmie, gimmie, gimmie!"

"Man, I don't get a 'happy to see you,' or a 'thanks for visiting my stankin ass!' Nothing, Geez, what an ingrate! Here." She chuckled, tossing the bag that had the room filling with its aroma, into Annette's lap.

The woman quickly opened the bag, snatched the sandwich out of it, unwrapped the aluminum foil hastily before shoving the juicy sausage and beef sandwich into her mouth with only the use of one hand. She took a bite and pulled the sandwich away from her mouth, long strands of melted cheese connected the sandwich to her lips. Natasha gave her friend a look of disgust and shook her head.

"You look nasty eating that sandwich, makes me not even want mine," She laughed.

Annette shrugged. When she was able to free her mouth, she had to explain.

"You've obviously forgotten in your twenty-four hours of freedom, just how disgusting hospital food is. I feel like a starving woman being tossed a cracker. This sandwich is the best damn sandwich I've ever eaten!" she said, greedily swallowing the last of the sandwich.

"Yeah, I guess I blocked the horrible experience from my memory. We are never to talk about it again," she joked. "What are you watching?"

Annette looked toward the TV.

"The news, nothing special, only have fifteen channels. You'd think they would have more channels for you to watch when you're in a hospital, you know what I mean? I mean it's bad enough you're depressed cause you had to go to the hospital, even worse when you wake up in one and your only form of entertainment is fifteen lousy channels, it ain't right."

She shook her head, looking grim. Natasha chuckled. Annette always made her laugh, they made each other laugh, even when they were sad, which was the best time to laugh. Natasha looked at the small, square, thirteen inch color TV and watched as the news anchor reiterated the gruesome details of the crime from earlier that morning. Listening to the details again made the memory of her horrific dream flash in her mind. She turned to Annette.

"I have to tell you something that happened to me last night," she said apprehensively.

"You got laid? Did you fuck Xavier? Awe shit, I bet it was the bomb!" Annette said excitedly.

Natasha frowned and shook her head.

"No, you gutter mind! We talked last night and that was it. I'm still trying to make up my mind if I want to go that route. It's still weird to me, you know, it's different ... but I am still interested. But that's not what I wanted to tell you."

She reached behind her and grabbed the uncomfortable leather chair from the corner of the room, moving it closer to Annette's bed. She sat down in the chair and a low hiss escaped through the leather bindings. She looked up at her friend. "That wasn't me."

"Sure it wasn't."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Anyway, last night, I had this weird ass dream. Ever since the accident, I've been having all these weird dreams. I decided not to take my medication and it's as though I've opened Pandora's Box. I've been seeing what I think may be premonitions. God, I hope not, cause this fucking sucks if it is."

Annette looked at her friend with concern.

"What was your medication for?"

"Well, ever since I was a kid, I was told I was taking it for my headaches ..." she trailed off. "I don't remember having a lot of headaches in my youth, but I do remember having weird dreams," she said thoughtfully.

She stared off across the room as if she was recollecting some long lost memory. She caught herself staring and brought her focus back to the present. She looked pensively at Annette, who waited patiently for her friend to continue.

"I used to have weird dreams. I think my parents lied to me about my medication. A doctor at this hospital told me the medication I have been taking every night for all these years was a dream suppressant. But now that I'm not taking it anymore, it's like my mind is being flooded with all of these fragments of ... I don't know quite what to call it," she said, clearly frustrated, her hands hovering beside her temples.

Annette felt sorry for her friend. She didn't know what to say.

"Are they like visions?" she asked.

"Yes! That's exactly what they're like. It's like I saw you in the hospital last night eating grape gelatin, but I saw all this through your eyes—first person point of view." She held her fingers above her eyes as she looked at her friend. "You think I'm losing it, don't you?"

Annette shook her head.

"I was eating grape gelatin last night. You got a gift, Tasha. You can see things as they're happening. You don't have to think you're a freak or something like that."

Natasha looked up at Annette, shocked.

"You believe me?"

Annette nodded. "Of course I believe you. There are people out there who are psychic. I see it as a gift and God granted you with this gift for a reason. You should embrace it. See, God knew who to give it to, cause if it were my gift, I'd be trying to see people's bank account information, cause I'm a heathen like that, and broke, people need money."

She laughed outright.

Natasha chuckled. She knew her friend had the craziest sense of humor. She had also known Annette wouldn't make her feel abnormal if she told her. She felt compelled to tell her the rest of her discovery.

"I think I saw the murder that happened last night," she said in a rush of words.

Annette looked at her, her smile fading as what Natasha blurted to her registered in her mind.

"What do you mean? The dead woman they're talking about?" she asked, her good hand pointing toward the TV.

The news had just gone off, and an evening sitcom had just come on.

Natasha nodded. "It was as if I was looking through the eyes of the killer. I think it was the same one, I don't know, but I could see the hand. It was a huge hand then it grew fur and thick sharp nails formed from normal, human looking nails. There was a woman in front of me. In the dream ... Um ... vision, she was crying and begging for her life. Then the hand started ripping into her stomach, just tearing away her insides."

She closed her eyes tight, hands covering her face.

"The worse part of it is, I could feel what the killer felt."

She shook her head, she didn't want to believe she saw the murder, couldn't believe it, to do so would be to fall headfirst into insanity.

"No, no, there's got to be a logical explanation for all of this." Natasha moaned.

"This doesn't make sense. None of it!" she exclaimed in anguish as she rose from the chair and began pacing in front of Annette's little bed.

The other woman watched her, trying to accept the possibility that her friend could see things. And if she really did see this murder, what was she going to do about it?

"Natasha, listen to me. If you get another vision of this murderer, you've got to tell the police," she said adamantly.

Natasha stopped pacing, looked at her friend, quickly shaking her head.

"They'd laugh at me, and probably lock me up. They wouldn't take me seriously. What am I supposed to say? I had a dream about the killer; I saw how he did it. Yeah right, that's how you get committed."

Annette wanted to reassure her friend that not everyone would laugh, especially not in this day and age.

"Natasha, the next victim could be you or me or your mother, my mother, father, a child ... Innocent people are dying! You have this gift that may help the police catch this murderer. If you sit on it and don't do anything and day after day you hear about a new body found in a back alley, knowing that you could have prevented it, you would never forgive yourself. You might as well be an accomplice!" she said forcefully.

She hated to be so blunt, but she wanted to give Natasha the cold, hard truth. It worked. Natasha found herself slumped in the leather chair, tears suspended in her eyes.

"I don't want this gift, curse, whatever! I don't want it, Annette, you didn't see what I saw!" she said, trying to hold on to her composure.

"No I didn't, but you're the only one who did. And you're the only one who can do something about it. If you embrace your ability to help people, then it can be a gift. If you choose to ignore it and all that it brings to you, then it will be a curse. Can you live with that? How do you know the visions will stop? Just because you don't want to see them, doesn't mean they won't come. I read about something like this in a magazine article."

She shifted in the bed, trying to get more comfortable.

"This woman could predict the future. You may be seeing the future and not actually the present. Did you think of that?" she pointed out.

Natasha nodded dejectedly.

"So how can you sit there and try to escape this?" Annette asked. "Yeah, it's a bum rap for you, real shitty, but Jesus had a bum rap too. This is your cross to bear, so use it for good."

She looked at Natasha, who was looking down at her trembling hands clasped together in her lap. Annette's tone grew softer.

"Tasha, you must go to the police and tell them what you saw, what you know. Even if they laugh at you, you have to do something. As it is now, everyone is in danger. I know you're scared and unhappy, but you can't run from these visions."

"If I take my medication again, I'll be okay," Natasha said stubbornly.

Annette's face flashed with anger.

"You got to be kidding me, did I just waste my breath here?! Sure, you can run and hide behind your meds and pretend that you didn't see what you saw. Delude yourself. But you'll always know the truth. Look, it's your choice, Tasha, but I hope you make the right choice even if it's the hardest one," Annette said.

She was angry with her friend, but she could empathize with her. In less than forty-eight hours, Natasha had discovered she was a psychic and had to witness a horrible murder take place and through the eyes of the sadistic son of a bitch that committed it. She figured Natasha's world just flipped upside down. But she couldn't accept Natasha letting people die when she could prevent it, or at least try to prevent it, just because she was afraid.

Natasha sat in the leather chair, and reflected on everything her friend had said to her. She thought about everything that had happened to her in the past two days. She wanted to go home to think. She needed to be alone. She rose from the chair, walked to her friend's bed and gave her a hug. They embraced for a long time, she thanked Annette for the pep talk.

"Think about all of it, Tasha, okay? I love you, be careful, really careful," Annette said as Natasha closed the door behind her and headed for the elevator.

Natasha pressed the lobby button, walking off the elevator once she reached the ground floor. On the train ride home she thought about it, weighed her options. She could take the medicine again now that she knew what it did. Had her parents been thinking about her well-being when they gave her the medicine to suppress her dreams or was it because they didn't want to be troubled with a 'special' daughter? She wondered about that as she waiting on the bus. An hour later, she walked into her apartment, determining that she needed to talk to her mother. She sat down on the sofa, picked up the telephone and punched in the seven digit number. She glanced at her watch as she waited for an answer. Seeing that the time was 10:05 P.M., she waited for several rings, then came the sound of her mother's voice.

"Hello?" her mother said.

"Hey, Mom, it's me, Tasha. I need to speak with you," she said.

There was a short silence over the phone then her mom responded.

"Okay, you know you can talk to me about anything, baby girl. What is it?"

"Mom, why did you and Dad put me on this medication and furthermore, why did you lie to me about it all these years? I've been thinking I'm taking the meds for migraines and I'm not. I can see things, can't I?" she asked, her voice was laced with anger ... anger at the presumed betrayal by her parents.

"How did you find out? At the hospital?"

"Yeah, I did, I must have looked like a fool to them," she said.

"We did it for you. We didn't want to see you suffering. When you were four years old, you started seeing these visions. You would be so confused and terrified. You thought they were nightmares and at first, so did we." Her mother paused.

"So what happened?"

"You would come up to us in the mornings sometimes, but most of the time it was during the night, you would wake up screaming after you had a dream. And you would tell us what you saw. Like I said, we thought they were only nightmares. But then one day, you came to us and you told us a disturbing dream you had about your best friend Michelle, from next door. You were very upset and you said that she was playing with her father's gun and it went off, then everything went black ..." Her mom's voice trailed off to silence.

"Mom, go on, what happened?" Natasha said urgently.

"She died the next night. She was playing with her father's gun, just like you had said and the safety wasn't on. It went off and the bullet entered her head. She died instantly." Her mother's voice quaked with tears.

Natasha's tears fell freely from her eyes. They trailed down her cheeks. She remembered her friend's funeral. How sad she'd felt that her best friend had died. Her parents never told her how she died. Now, it sickened and angered her to know her friend's death could have been avoided.

"Did you even try to tell her parents what I saw, even if they laughed at you? Did you?" She yelled into the phone overcome with anger, sadness and frustration. It was mainly at herself.

Annette was right. She had to use her ability to help people even if it was scary. She wouldn't sit on this ability and let people die, not like Michelle had died twenty years ago. She could hear her mother crying, she felt the sorrow set in. The situation hit her like a ton of bricks. She might have been able to prevent someone from dying. There was no telling how many deaths had happened that she might have foreseen, and possibly changed the fate of, if she had known the truth before last night. That woman might still be alive. No one to blame but herself. She would not live with that fact, ever again. She wouldn't be a hypocrite.

"We didn't tell her parents. Natasha, believe me, I have had to live with that all these years! I was too sick at heart to believe you could see the future; I didn't want your little mind to suffer. I couldn't sit there and watch my only child go through all of that mental and emotional anguish, night after night. There was no telling what you would see, how it would have haunted you. You were a baby, how were you to understand what you had. We did what we thought was best for you, to give you a normal life!" Her mother said passionately.

"I haven't been taking the medicine for a few days, Mom. I've seen things. Things I can't let go of. I've seen through the eyes of a murderer, Mom. I don't know how I have the connection, or why, but I do. I've seen him kill someone. And I think it was the murdered woman that was on the news today. I don't know much detail right now but if I get another vision, I will not disregard it or any more in the future. Can you support me?" she asked.

There was a silence over the phone. Then her mother spoke, softly, "If this is what you truly want to do. I will support you. But think about it. You may never be able to stop these visions or control them."

"I know. First I need to figure out how or why I only see visions of certain people," she said thoughtfully.

"When we took you to a specialist, he said that you make connections through the personal items that you've touched. With your friend, you had played with her toys, you were the best of friends, and your connection was strong. It's a mental bond, or so I was told. The doctor said that the brain waves have to be really active, strong, for you to form the connection. He hinted that you may have a touch of clairvoyance, which further explains how your ability works."

It was Natasha's turn to be silent. She remained quiet for a few minutes then she spoke softly, "I can't believe you knew all of this for all of these years, and never told me."

"What parent wants their child to suffer?"

"Certainly not the parents of the people I could have saved, Mom."

Natasha felt the anger boil up again. She knew her mother meant well, but she would have wanted the choice. She understood she was being unduly harsh, but the past seventy-two hours had been hard on her, and she was having difficulty controlling her emotions.

"I was afraid that you would go insane from what you would see. I didn't want that. Are you sure you want to stop taking the medication?" she asked, concerned.

"Yes, Mom. You know, Annette said this was a blessing and now I see why. I can't throw it away, nor can I hide. Mom, I realize why you and Dad did what you did, and I forgive you. I know that I've been a bit harsh, I find myself criticizing you for having the very same thoughts that I had earlier. I'm wrong for that and I'm sorry. Listen, I have to go. I love you, both. Tell Dad, I said, Hi'."

"I love you, too, honey. I'll talk with you later." They finished their "goodbyes" and Natasha hung up the phone.

She lay down on the sofa, slowly. She knew now that going to sleep would mean something entirely different from the norm. Sleep would never be rest for her ever again. She stared at the ceiling, and pondered the "cross" she was preparing to carry. She slowly closed her eyes, praying for the vision again. Soon she drifted away from the busy sounds of the street. The constant car honking, people screaming, sirens, all of it faded into silence. Then there was nothing.

***

She sat down on a black, dust covered chair. Her long, thick, muscular legs stretched out before her. Thick, strong fingers were laced together and resting on her stomach. She was looking at a man lying stretched out on a metal table, naked. He was scared, this man. He begged for his life, eyes brimming with tears, his body was covered in sweat. His wrist and ankles were bound to the four corners of the table. A stream of urine trickled to the floor from the table, forming a small puddle. She laughed at the man, her tongue running over her lips. A large, thick bulge grew between her legs. Her left hand trailed down her denim jeans to caress the bulge making her moan slightly.

Her eyes closed for a moment to savor the sensations.

"Stop playing with yourself," a sexy, sensuous, feminine voice said.

A tall woman had entered the room, wearing a red leather bustier, revealing the cleavage of her tightly pressed breasts, causing them to be perched high on her chest. The shorts she wore were of the same skintight, red leather as her top. The shorts barely covered the pale curve of her buttocks. Her red high-heeled boots click-clacked on the concrete floor as she walked closer to the male form on the table. Her blue eyes peered curiously into the man's pleading face, she smiled as her gaze shifted towards the man whose vision Natasha was seeing. The woman's right hand played in her own hair, fingers twirling the black locks between them as her smile became more seductive.

"Why don't you come over here, and play with me," the male voice said.

It was deep and husky, thick. It came from Natasha's throat, this man's voice. The man continued to massage his groin, fingers reaching for the zipper, digging into the opening of the jeans, and freeing the bulge. Thick fingers massaged the hardness. Natasha could feel every sensation the fingers were creating and knew how much this man was enjoying himself. The sensations sent tremors down his spine. His back arched in the chair and a low animal sound came from his throat, a growl.

"Should we save him for later on tonight, or feast on him now?" asked the beautiful lady.

"Let's save him for later. He's strong and he definitely looks tasty. But right now, I have other things on my mind. I want you on my mind," the male voice said as fingers pointed at the hardness.

The female threw her head back and laughed. "Well, I see where your head's at."

She looked at the form sitting in the dusty chair and walked over to him, sitting in his lap. Her hips began to grind on his hardness, causing a deep, masculine moan to escape his mouth. Thick hands gripped the slender hips of the beautiful woman. His face leaned forward, Natasha felt as if her own tongue licked along the neckline of the woman, sending shivers through her own body, her back arching. The male form on the metal table began to scream for help. The woman turned around and looked at him, both of them laughed at him, before continuing their lovemaking.

Through this man's eyes, Natasha could see the emptiness of the room. The windows were blocked with thick boards. The floor was covered with several layers of dust and grime. There was no electricity in the room, only a few candles burned around the prone man.

The male victim screamed until he was hoarse, despair starting to sink in. He began to cry again and pray. The beautiful woman began to undress, revealing two perfectly creamy breasts, her pink nipples erect. Natasha could feel the man's mouth closing around one of her nipples, his tongue licking them hard, and knew what this woman tasted like, she now knew her scent. She could feel the softness of the other breast in his left hand, his fingers groping the tender flesh. She could feel the woman's hotness between her legs over his erect groin.

Natasha opened her eyes, staring at the ceiling as she lay still, gathering her thoughts. She remembered where she was, who she was. She knew she had seen things through the eyes of a man, knew they planned to kill the male victim on the next night. She knew she had a time limit. She sat up on the sofa looking around the room, wiping her eyes to help clear her sight. She looked at her watch, seeing that the time was 5 A.M. She got up and grabbed her coat from the rack and ran down the block, catching a bus before it pulled away from the curb.

When she finished paying, she sat down in the back of the bus, until she reached her stop switching from the bus to the train. She rode the train until it arrived at Ohio Street, where she got off. The police station was just a few blocks away.

The white and tan building took up a full square block including the parking lot. She was a little nervous about what she was going to do. She hoped that they wouldn't laugh at her or call her names. She hoped that they would take her seriously. She walked into the huge station and looked around. The main lobby had several gray benches where a few dozen people sat quietly, waiting to be seen. The floor was light gray, cemented tiled squares. Florescent lights illuminated the huge room, adding a certain glow. Uniformed officers walked by, decked out in black pants and black zippered jackets with enough pockets to store all kinds of things.

She walked up to the front desk and placed a trembling hand on the counter. The desk officer looked up at her. His cold, gray eyes looked tired. His bald head glowed under the lights.

"Can I help you, ma'am?" he asked, his nostrils flaring as he spoke.

"Um, yes, I need to speak with the officer that's dealing with all of these murders in the city, um," she paused, she knew she would probably need to be more specific. "The dead body found earlier yesterday, I need to talk to the detective who's working on that case."

She looked at the officer behind the desk. His eyes trailed her up and down, then he reached over to the telephone and dialed. A deep, male voice came over the speaker.

"Yeah?" the voice asked.

"Yeah, I got a woman out here that says she needs to speak with you about the murders you're working on. Come around," said the desk officer.

"Will do," said the voice.

Natasha felt a little embarrassed as she fantasized about the man who owned the voice she'd heard over the speaker. She wondered if it was the same man she saw on the news that morning. His voice was clear, rich and sexy. She was anxious to find out. She looked toward the active hallway where uniformed and plain clothes officers walked to and fro and then saw the same extremely handsome man from the news report. He was wearing a pair of black jeans and a form fitting white t-shirt that hugged his chest tight enough to show off his perfect abs and biceps. He walked gracefully toward her. She was surprised he knew she was the woman the officer had mentioned.

Then her gaze flicked to the desk cop, and she saw him pointing in her direction. She was a little disappointed the detective didn't have ESP. He stopped in front of her, even more handsome than he was on TV. She could feel herself blushing then forced it back, now was not the time to be bashful. She had something to say and she had to be as serious about it as she possibly could.

"I have information about the murders you're investigating," she said softly.

The detective's eyes widened, he told her to follow him, grabbing her by the arm lightly, leading her into the main work area. The open space was lined with desks and filled with the sounds of people arguing, telephones ringing, and keyboards being typed on as officers worked diligently at their desks. He directed her back to his desk, next to where his partner was sitting. He sat her in a chair adjacent to their desks. Warren sat down at his and looked at Natasha. She looked at his partner, who was wearing a snug dark blue t-shirt and faded formfitting blue jeans. She liked his light brown eyes; they made him look warm and friendly.

"Can I get you anything, are you thirsty?" he asked.

Natasha shook her head. "No, no thank you."

Warren gave one quick nod and introduced himself.

"Okay, I'm Detective Warren Davis and this is my partner, Detective Matthew Eric," he said as he gestured to the equally handsome man sitting across from him. Matthew waved in acknowledgment. "And you are?"

Natasha introduced herself. "Oh, I'm Natasha Hemingway. I work for the Chicago Word. I've um, I've come to you this morning because I know some details about the killings and when the next one will happen and possibly where."

Both officers leaned closer, Matthew actually pulling his chair around to the front of her. Warren sat at his desk, poised with pen in hand. They looked at her, waiting for her to continue. They prayed that it was something solid. For four days now, they'd had zero to go on and now here was this person who said she knows something. This may be the turning point in their case.

"I ... I don't know how to explain this completely, but I'll try my best. I've always been able to 'see' things, like premonitions."

She paused to gauge their reaction. Their eyes were still locked on her but there was no mockery in their expressions.

"A few days ago, I was in a car accident. I hadn't taken my medication, because my friend and I went out to celebrate that night. I just got a new job. And she wanted me to share a drink with her. So I thought it best not to mix my medication with the alcohol. But after one drink, I started to feel sick, so we left the club."

Matthew interrupted her. "Wait a minute, was this the accident a few blocks from that club, Slayer's Lair?" he asked.

Natasha nodded. "Yeah, this guy who was drunk dropped his keys. I picked them up and I told my friend to take the keys to the bartender, who obviously gave them back to him. I knew who it was, because, while we were driving away in the cab, I had a vision about the accident. I saw the accident happen through the eyes of the guy who rear-ended us. I saw it right before I woke up and then I saw the lights getting closer. Then it happened. At first, I disregarded it. Sometimes people have those little unexplainable things that happen to them." She took a few seconds to relax.

"So you've seen this murderer?" Warren asked, getting her back on track.

"Yes, I've seen through the eyes of the killer. It's a man, a pretty big man, he's Caucasian, at least six foot seven, or eight inches tall, and very muscular. I think he's a ... wait, I know he's a shape-shifter, his hands were ..." she trailed off.

Natasha was remembering the man she met in the supermarket. She didn't have those dreams until she had bumped into him at the store. She struggled to remember what he looked like.

Warren sat back in his chair. All this new information was really weird to him but he was willing to take any kind of lead he could get. He threw a glance at Matthew, who shrugged, not sure if he should take Natasha's word for it.

"I think I may have seen this man!" she said excitedly. "I went to a supermarket when I left the hospital. I bumped into him and it was like hitting a brick wall. He caught me before I fell. I don't know what I could have touched that was his to make a connection. He had a handful of meat, ground beef and chuck roast, things like that," she said, thinking back, trying to recapture any details that she could.

Warren sat at his cluttered desk, thinking about the description Natasha had just given.

"I saw them kill the woman that you found this morning." She looked at her watch, "well, yesterday morning. I could see him killing her through his eyes. That's how I see things, it's like I experience everything with the person. It's really weird and I don't like it. But I watched in my vision as his hand turned from a normal human hand to a furry claw. Then I saw him rip at her stomach, just ripping, as if she were paper ..." her voice faded, tears welled up in her eyes.

Matthew reached over, removed some tissues from the box on his desk and handed a handful of them to Natasha, who took them to blow her nose and wipe her tears away.

"And you saw all of this. Just like you were actually doing it yourself?" Matthew asked, genuinely curious.

She nodded and dabbed her eyes.

"Yeah, I don't know how long she would have lived had I came to you guys then, but I didn't want to believe it ... I'm sorry," she said, her head down in shame.

"Don't beat yourself up about it, the important thing is you're here now, helping," Warren said, patting her hand to reassure her that she wasn't to blame.

"You said 'them' as in more than one?" asked Matthew.

Warren looked at him then back to Natasha, who was nodding.

"Yeah, a female, I'm not sure what she is. Her eyes glowed red when I first saw her the night they killed the woman. She had pale skin, jet black wavy hair; it was long, to her thighs. She had blue eyes, when they weren't glowing red. She likes to wear a lot of skintight leather. Last night or this morning, I had a vision of them. I could see through the male again. He was sitting in a chair and there was a man on this metal table. He was crying and begging for his life just like the woman before. And the man watched him, he was happy to hear the other man pleading for his life, it was like I could taste his fear," she explained to the two officers using her hands to emphasize the feeling she was receiving through her vision. "As he sat in the chair, he began to masturbate," she said, her face flushing with blood.

She could feel her body temperature rise which made her squirm in her seat attempting to get more comfortable. Her arm knocked Warren's mug off of the desk and she caught hold of it but fumbled it and Warren caught the mug before it hit the floor.

"I'm so sorry, I'm just so nervous, I didn't mean to make a mess," she said apologetically.

"Don't worry about it, doesn't matter. Lady, you could break everything in the place for all I care, I'm thrilled with this information," Warren said as he placed the mug on the other side of his desk.

Natasha smiled gratefully because they didn't laugh at her or think she was crazy. They took her seriously from the very beginning. She continued.

"The other killer came into the room, she teased the male victim then she said, and I remember, 'Should we save him for later on tonight, or feast on him now?'" The male killer said that he wanted to save him for tonight because he looked tasty and he wanted to savor his meal. Then they began to have sex as the man laid on the metal table screaming for his life, they laughed at him. His fear seemed to make them ... hornier." She blushed even more, and looked away. Then she looked at Matthew, who was quiet.

"If we could get a sketch artist in here, can you give us their descriptions?" Warren asked.

Natasha nodded, saying "I'll do my best."

She checked her watch, it was now seven in the morning and she was tired. Natasha would have to call in to work, request the day off. Since it was only her second day, she might as well kiss that job goodbye. It saddened her. She had enjoyed her first day of work, in spite of all that was going on. Warren dialed a number on the telephone, tapping his pen on his desk as he waited for someone to pick up the other end. Matthew leaned closer, continuing to ask questions.

"Did you see what the place looked like, where they had the man? Do you know where it is?" he asked.

"Well, it was pretty dark in the room. The place looked abandoned. There were boards over the windows and the floor was really dusty and disgusting. The room was pretty big, from what I could see. They had some candles burning around the small area they were in, but that's it. I wish I knew more. I might have to have more visions to be of further help," she said sadly.

The thought of having to have more visions upset her. It was becoming obvious she would have to see more death and torture and the sight of blood sickened her.

"Trust me, you've done so much, even now. You've been the biggest lead we've had. We were going out of our minds trying to establish a suspect profile, nothing came up. But you have the best clues yet. You've done more than enough" Matthew said warmly.

He was excited about the new information they now had. Natasha smiled happily. She was very pleased that what she told them was so vital.

"Tell me, do you have to be asleep to have these visions?" Warren asked when he got off of the telephone.

"At this point, yes. I have to be completely asleep. Then the visions come. Some are just random, people playing, or having sex, or eating. Nothing terrible. Apparently one of my doctors says it's the brain waves that help me form a connection with someone to the point where I can see what they see. Feel what they feel," she said wearily, she yawned and covered her mouth.

She looked up to see a middle-aged man wearing a wrinkled blue sweatshirt and jeans approaching her. He had a sketch pad in one hand and a set of pencils in another. His salt and pepper hair was combed back, exposing a receding hair line. He sat down in front of her and held out his hand.

"David Foster. I'm the sketch artist. Why don't you sit back, relax and try to remember any details about his face that you can," he said calmly as he poised his pencil over the sketch pad.

Natasha settled into the chair. She closed her eyes and tried to envision both of their features. She began to give details as the sketch artist worked furiously on the paper. His eyes darted to Natasha several times as he etched out the features of the male murder suspect she described.

"Does this look like the man you saw?" he asked as he held out the white sketch book.

Natasha opened her eyes and looked at the drawing. Her mouth dropped open, amazed at the incredible likeness. It was her killer, no doubt about it. She pointed at the picture and nodded, looking at both Warren and Matthew. The two detectives took the sketch from the artist and focused on the features. Warren could judge by the size of his head, that he was a huge man and an even more enormous wolf, even bigger than himself.

"Okay, I'm ready to do the other sketch," said the artist, as he turned the page of his sketch book.

Natasha closed her eyes again, beginning to describe the female she had seen in her visions. The sketch artist's pencil worked over the paper, she could hear the soft sounds of the lead pencil scratching paper as he reproduced the face from her descriptions.

"Is this accurate?" he asked, once again holding up the pad for approval.

Natasha looked at the picture and nodded grimly. While Warren looked closely at the drawing, Matthew stood behind Warren's chair, looking over his shoulder with equal attention.

"Well, is that it? Do you need me for anything else?" asked the sketch artist.

Warren and Matthew shook their heads and thanked him. He gathered his belongings and left the room.

"So, what's next?" Natasha asked.

Matthew had returned to his desk, he looked at Warren then back at Natasha.

"Well, from your descriptions of this place, we should probably check all abandoned buildings in the south side area. That's where the bodies are being deposited. Even though the victims could be getting murdered in an entirely different area then brought there, we have to narrow our search parameter and start somewhere," he said as he looked through some files on his desk, noting the locations of where the bodies were found.

"Where did you say you lived?" Warren asked.

She told them her address.

"It's an apartment building. I live on the third floor, though we're trying to get an apartment on the second. Why?" she asked.

She looked at Warren, thinking he and his partner were two of the hottest cops walking the earth. They were two cops you wouldn't mind pulling you over. Shit, you might just drive fifty miles over the limit, just to snag one.

"Well, you did say that you saw him in the grocery store in your neighborhood. That might help us narrow down a prospective area to search," Warren said.

He nodded to his partner and they rose from their seats and began to put on their coats. Natasha looked at two of them. She felt that they wanted her to go also, she wasn't sure and didn't really want to ask, but felt she should.

"Do you need me to go with you?" she asked apprehensively.

"Yeah, we do. You might remember something, a landmark, something that might help us identify the building they may be in."

He held out his hand to her, palm upward and she slid her slender, delicate hand into his. He pulled her out of the chair with ease. Natasha appreciated the strength of a strong man. She felt attracted to Warren. She wasn't quite sure why, but she felt some other sort of connection too. She followed the two men to the garage as they led her to the sturdy, black and silver squad car. The car had the sleek design of the new automobiles, but was solid steel and had titanium gates with silver overlay separating the back seats from the front. In the back seat, there was an overhead lighting system. Natasha wondered why the car was like that. They all climbed into the automobile, Natasha in the back, Warren at the wheel.

"May I ask a question?" Natasha inquired.

"Yeah, shoot," Matthew said.

"Why is the car ... well, what's with this car?"

"We're a policing team specially funded by the United States federal government to control supernatural crime. This kind of case would never see a normal police officer's desk or file drawer. All weird cases like this, that are suspected of supernatural foul play comes directly to us. Since we have to deal with it, we have to be equipped with the resources to deal with it. This car has a powerful, ultraviolet lighting system. In the case of a vampire getting out of hand, under the US law, we have the right to flip the switch and fry their asses."

He turned in his seat to look at Natasha, wanting to see her expression. He suspected she would be wide-eyed and open-mouthed. He was right.

"What about the shape-shifters? I mean, I've seen this guy, he's huge!"

She looked over the titanium cage.

"He could probably rip this cage and crush it into a small ball and go bowling with it," she said, chuckling nervously.

She was wondering how the hell they were going to get his humongous body into the car, and keep him there until they could get him to the jail.

Warren chuckled. He could imagine what she was thinking because he was thinking the same thing.

"Well," Matthew continued, "the cages are built inside the car, it's a part of the car, welded and covered in silver-the same for the insides of the rear doors, you know what I mean? Besides, if he starts to resist, then under US law, we reserve the right to put a bullet into his head."

Natasha began to think about the judicial system for the supernatural and how it differed from theirs.

"How do you even hold a vampire or shape-shifter for questioning, let alone prosecution?" she asked, thinking it was a valid question.

Matthew and Warren glanced at each other, they seemed to be sharing a secret and Natasha couldn't help but feel out of her league. She didn't like feeling that way.

"Well, the law works in a strange way. Say we catch our killer today in the act, we don't need to bring him in for questioning or prosecution under the new US law that was just passed, we have the right to shoot and kill on the spot while caught in the act. No 'freeze, don't move', just shoot to kill, for both shape-shifters and vampires. We have liquid silver-nitrate bullets that explode on contact. So basically, it goes into a shape-shifter's blood stream, he cannot survive and dies instantly. For a vampire, we have liquid ultraviolet bullets and they do the same thing as the silver nitrate ones." Matthew said.

It amazed him just how little people in the world knew about their current situation. He thought that every mortal in the world should want to know what's out there. Mortals should want to know what resources they had to better protect themselves.

"Okay, so how do you bring them in and restrain them?" she asked.

She couldn't believe she hadn't found out all of this information before. She had been so deep into denial she hadn't wanted to know any more about the "others" than she'd absolutely had to. As it turned out, she needed to know a lot more than she did. She was happy to be learning new things now.

"Well, we also work with flame throwers and these special guns," Matthew stated as he held one up to show her.

It had a metal barrel with a black handle. It looked like a miniature sawed off shot gun to Natasha.

"This little beauty here can hold up to sixteen hollow tip silver bullets that carry a little extra 'oomph'. They explode a millisecond after contact and can take off a head, a limb, or blow out a chest. When we bring them in, they have a chance to prove their innocence. But that's only if we don't have any real evidence against them. There are no other exceptions. The law is very biased in that regard," Matthew said as he gazed at his partner, who had been quiet the whole time.

They rode the rest of the way in silence to Natasha's neighborhood. They drove around the grocery store and Warren parked the car and got out. He turned and leaned into the driver's side window.

"I'm going to go in and check some things out. You two stay here."

He walked off without waiting for a response from his partner. Natasha glanced at Matthew, who seemed to be a little nervous about his partner going in alone, but he said nothing.

"So, how long have you two been partners?" she asked, trying to kill time and the boredom of sitting in a quiet car.

"Hmm, for about five years. I was on the force before he joined. Then, and this is going to throw you for a loop, we were selected for this government special unit because the normal police force wasn't prepared, let alone equipped to handle the supernaturals. So the government drafted ex-soldiers and cops from across the country for specific training. There were over a hundred thousand of us chosen, but only about fifteen hundred passed the training, Warren and I being two of them. What really pisses me off is that we're stretched too thin. It's only one S.U.I.T. division per state. That's fifty-two units and about thirty cops per unit. Granted, states like Illinois have about forty officers in our division, it's still not nearly enough because we cover the entire state and then some if help is needed. You can imagine how stressful things can get."

He looked out the window.

"Here he comes," he said, relieved as Warren opened the car door and climbed inside.

"Find anything?" Matthew asked.

Warren shook his head. "Not really." He started the car, pulled out of the parking lot and began to drive down the street looking for abandoned homes and stores. He pulled the car over in front of a tall, two-story building with boarded up windows.

"Does this look familiar in any way?" he asked. Natasha looked at the building and shook her head.

"No, it doesn't, but in the vision I was inside the building and it was really dark. I couldn't see anything distinct except the man on the table and the female. I wish I could tell you more, but that's the best I can do for now."

"Miss Hemingway, believe me when I say this, you have been our knight in shining armor. We had nothing to go on, and it was eating at us, so don't be upset. If you remember or see anything else, just let us know. Here's my card."

Warren handed her a card with both his work and cell phone numbers on it.

"You can always reach me at either of those numbers. I'll drop you off at home now," he said.

Natasha looked at him, confused.

"I thought you needed me to come along with you?" she asked, somewhat disappointed.

She felt like she was letting them down.

Warren shook his head. "We can handle this. If we do find the killers, I don't want you in the middle of it. Like I said, you've done more than enough already. So let me drop you off," he said as he pulled off in the direction of Natasha's apartment.

The car stopped in front of her three story apartment building which had white trim around the windows and a red awning. There was a small, landscaped garden in the front of the building with a white fountain that was turned off due to the winter season. She climbed out of the car, walked to the driver's side window and peered in.

"If I see anything else, I'll call you right away," she said.

"Call the cell phone. I'll probably be out late today. We might need you to come into the station at some point to complete some reports, I'll let you know. Thanks for coming in to see us. Take care of yourself," Warren said.

Matthew smiled and nodded.

Natasha smiled dispiritedly at the two officers, hoping they would be okay. She was worried for them; she would hate to be the one who had to deal with the supernatural criminals. It was truly a horrendous job. But, she reasoned, someone had to do it.

She walked away from the car and went into her apartment building. She dragged herself up three flights of stairs. By the time she reached her apartment, she had only enough energy to plop down onto the sofa. She closed her eyes as she regained her normal breathing pace. After a while, she began to feel extremely tired, realizing that she'd only had about five or six hours sleep at the most. And her body felt the lack of rest as the visions didn't allow for much peace. She looked at her watch, noting it was already 10:46 A.M. She walked into her bedroom, called her job and requested the day off. She hoped she would still have the job the next day. She laid down comfortably in the bed and let sleep take her.

***

She stepped into the darkness of the room and could immediately smell the distinctive scent of another wolf breed in the room. She raised her gun, the hand holding the gun was a man's hand. It was strong, not a normal man's strength. She looked at her partner, Matthew. Matthew looked at her and nodded slowly, moving behind her, back to back. Her eyes could see very well in the darkness and she knew she was in an abandoned warehouse. She could see old boxes stacked on top of each other or strewn about. There was dust and grime on the floor and the strong scent of blood wafted up to her nostrils, the scent making her mouth water. She could hear the soft whimpers of a mortal man nearby. The scent of male mingled with the scent of old blood was making her hungry. She knew instantly that she was seeing through the eyes of Detective Warren Davis, and he was a shape-shifter. She could hear another voice in the room, she looked in its direction.

"I can feel the vampire here, they're close. Keep an eye out. Do you see your wolf?" asked a tall man.

He was wearing a dark green, ribbed sweater and black pleated pants. His black trench coat flowed behind him as he walked around the room, scanning. His long, black hair framed his gorgeous face; his forest green eyes pierced the darkness.

"I can smell human blood, do you see your wolf? There is a human alive here, I can hear his heart beating," the man stated as he looked around.

"I can smell the wolf and the vampire," responded Warren. Through his eyes, Natasha caught a glimpse of movement behind the dark haired stranger.

"Darian, behind you!" she yelled, with her male voice.

She watched the other man defend himself with seeming ease as he fought with the female vampire. She bared her fangs and swung her clawed hand toward the man named Darian.

That vision began to fade into darkness and another started to form. She saw the three men looking around the warehouse, searching for something, someone. She knew who she was in the vision. She was the male shape-shifter and he was setting his sights on Warren. She could see that he was moving closer. A loud ringing sound filled her head. The sound began to pull her out of the vision. She woke up and stared into the darkness of her bedroom. The phone started ringing again. She sat up and lifted to receiver to her ear.

"Hello?" she asked her voice groggy, drugged.

"Well don't you sound sexy first thing in the evening," a sexy male voice said through the telephone.

Natasha knew his voice and it sent tingles down her spine.

"Hi Xavier. Look, this is a bad time. I need to call you back, is that okay?" she asked.

She was anxious to call Warren, needed to tell him what she'd seen while it was still fresh in her mind.

"Well, this is unexpected. Okay, call me later," he said before hanging up the telephone.

Natasha noted that she didn't get a chance to say goodbye, she hoped he wasn't upset with her. She thought about the last few days, astounded by how fast her life had changed. Would it ever be normal again? She didn't know. She dialed the cell phone number Warren had given her, listening to the telephone ringing three times, before Warren picked up.

"Hello, who's calling?" he asked.

"Detective Davis, this is Natasha Hemingway. I had another vision!" she said excitedly.

"Are you still at home?"

"Yes."

"I'm on my way," and he hung up the telephone.

She hung up the receiver and waited for the detective to arrive. She glanced at her watch. It was 7:42 P.M. so at least she had gotten some sleep. It actually amazed her how quickly time flew by. She soon heard a knock on her door, it was loud enough to make her jump. She wondered if it was Warren. If so, he'd made it to her house in seven minutes. She wondered where he had been when she called. She walked to the door, looked through the peephole, seeing both him and his partner, Matthew. She opened the door and let them in. They walked past her and looked around her little apartment.

"What did you see?" asked Warren, not wasting any time.

"I saw you, I mean, I saw through your eyes. I felt what you felt, and," she paused, looking at Warren.

She walked over to him and gestured for him to lean closer. He did and she whispered into his ear, knowing he had excellent hearing.

"I smelled what you smelled. I know what you are."

She stepped back quickly, hoping she hadn't just made a mistake. She didn't want to be his dinner. Warren looked at her, he couldn't figure out how she could do what she did. He looked at his partner, then back at Natasha.

"He knows, you don't have to whisper," he said to her, attempting to clear the air.

"Oh! Okay. That's a relief, I'm not the only one who knows," she said happily.

If his partner knew, then she might not be his dinner.

"What else did you see?" he asked.

It seemed as though he didn't care that Natasha knew his secret, only that he could solve the case. Natasha was happy that he was on her side.

"The building is an abandoned warehouse. I'm not sure where, there were cardboard boxes everywhere and the place was all dusty and grimy, I have no idea what kind of warehouse it is, if I knew that, it would help narrow the search, wouldn't it?" she asked.

The men nodded. She paled.

"I thought as much. Oh, there was another man there, he was helping you," she said.

Warren and Matthew gave each other a surprised look, they couldn't possibly figure out who could be helping them.

"Who?" Matthew asked.

"I think he was a vampire. He fought with the female I told you about, she was a vampire too. You called him Darian in my vision," Natasha said.

She glanced at Warren to see if the name registered. It looked as though it did.

"Do you know him?" she asked.

Warren and Matthew nodded.

"I only know of one vampire named Darian. He's the owner of that huge entertainment club called Desires Unleashed. He's also the master vampire in this city. Only reason why I know this is because of my leader. Both of them have been in the city for a long time. The S.U.I.T. doesn't have a real record on him, such as real age, nationality, nothing of the sort. All we know is that he registered his business as a vampire owned establishment. Why would he help us? Why would he want to?" Warren said, he seemed to be really pondering the notion.

"The female vampire looked to be strong and he was fighting her. I think you need him for a reason. I wouldn't go against the vision. Oh, and the male victim is still alive, you could hear him somewhere in the warehouse."

"Well, I suppose we have to make a trip to Desires Unleashed. Let's go, we don't have time to waste. You did say they wanted to kill him tonight, right?" Warren asked Natasha as they headed down the stairs to the car.

She nodded.

"Then we need to haul ass," he said as he climbed into the driver's seat.

He turned on the siren and lights as he raced through the crowded streets, switching from lane to lane at breakneck speed. Natasha began to wonder if they would survive the ride over. She watched Warren drive. His eyes locked on the road, his reflexes were perfect, inhuman, he didn't even flinch as he dodged two potential accidents. Ten minutes later, they arrived in front of the club her best friend worked at.

Would Xavier be here tonight? Natasha wondered.

Chapter Seventeen

There was a long line of people waiting to get in. Some of the people were dressed in black garments. Their eyes, nails and lips decorated with dark colored cosmetics. They looked excited about going in, wanting to see a real "live" creature of the night. She climbed out of the car with the two detectives. A valet parking attendant walked over. His hair was black and shaved low, he wore a black shirt and pants uniform, with a white satin vest.

"Excuse me, sir, but you can't park there," he said, trying to get Warren's attention.

He did.

"Look." Warren flashed his badge, and the man's brown eyes widened. No one of the supernatural race wanted to see that badge. He stepped back and watched as Warren flashed the badge to the door bouncer, who made Warren wait as he called his boss on walkie-talkie.

"Yeah, uh huh, okay, okay ... yes, sir."

He lowered the walkie-talkie, calling over another bouncer, who stalked over to them. He was tall, had a mustache and his head was shaved bald. He stepped up to Warren, looked him up and down, a snarl appearing on his face.

"Against your own kind, ain't that grand," he said disgustedly.

Warren stepped up to him. The bouncer was two inches taller than Warren but it didn't seem to matter.

"Do I have to go through you to get to your Master?" he asked.

The bouncer's snarl grew more intense, his body became rigid.

"That depends. Why are you here, traitor?" he hissed through clenched teeth.

Warren took a deep breath and let it out. He was becoming annoyed at the run-around he was getting. Matthew stayed quiet, not wanting to tread in uncharted waters. Natasha took his cue, remaining silent herself.

"I need to speak with your Master. I need information from him. He's not a suspect, so can we calm down the tough-son-of-a-bitch attitude? I don't have time for it," Warren said curtly, his nostrils flaring slightly as he kept his temper in check.

The two bouncers, who Natasha suspected might be vampires, looked at each other, then nodded.

"Follow me," said the bald headed bouncer that was causing the stall.

He led them through the crowded dance floor. They had to push past some of the rowdy dancers that didn't seem to have any regard for the four of them passing through. Natasha looked up, astounded that there were go-go dancers in skimpy black leather outfits dancing in cages suspended from the ceiling. She reckoned that was a real thrill for the party-goers. She liked the vitality of the disco music the DJ was playing, enjoying the vibrations of the bass as the sounds thumped through her body. The only thing that annoyed her was the multicolored neon lights that danced around the club.

She looked at the bartender, who was as sexy as all the other men she had been seeing lately. She marveled at his skill as he twirled bottles of alcohol for the crowd that cheered him on and praised his efforts with money. The bouncer directed them toward the employees' only entrance and lifted the walkie-talkie to his lips.

"Mr. Richards, I got two detectives here from the S.U.I.T., they want to talk to the Boss. I'm bringing them to your office."

He released the talk button and listened for further instructions.

"Two detectives? Did they say ... never mind. Go ahead and take them to the Boss' office, instead," said a masculine, sexy voice.

It took Natasha a few seconds to realize that it was Xavier's voice.

"Yes, sir," he said as he opened the door to the employees only entrance.

The hallway was decorated with photographs of naked people. They were done tastefully, no smut. The artist had truly captured the beauty of the human body in each photograph. Natasha found herself wanting to stop and look at the photos as if she were in a gallery, but decided against it. Maybe she could ask Xavier to show them to her later. Then she thought about Xavier. Was she really contemplating starting a relationship with him? It seemed to be a possibility to her, she really liked him.

They were led to a set of double, dark red wooden doors. The bouncer knocked twice and a young blonde man opened the door. Natasha thought he was beautiful also but very young, his blue eyes gave them all a once over before he stepped aside to let them pass.

They entered and looked around. Natasha marveled at the grandeur of the office. It was simply beautiful. She wondered how much money it must have cost to decorate a room like this. Then her wandering eyes stopped on Xavier. He seemed surprised and a bit confused to find her with the two detectives. His eyes held a hint of bewilderment. She smiled slightly at him and waved, hoping that would ease some of his suspicions.

This night wasn't going well for the two of them. So much was going on, she hoped he would understand. If not, then that would be just one more thing to contemplate later. She looked at the huge, three sectioned, black marble desk in the middle of the room. Behind it sat the most gorgeous man she had ever laid eyes on. Natasha fought hard not to stare, dumbfounded. She wanted to photograph him, wanted to kiss him, wanted to touch him. Anything to prove that he was real, that his beauty was real, tangible. He sat comfortably in a black, soft, leather chair behind the desk. Natasha was willing to bet the chair vibrated. From the look of the rest of his office, she would not be surprised.

The man behind the desk looked at the three of them, his eyes lingering on Natasha then darting over to Xavier. Natasha watched him study Xavier, who was staring at her. She couldn't take her eyes off of this man, he held her captive. He smiled and rose from the chair and walked around the desk, practically gliding. Natasha wondered if his feet even touched the ground, his moves were so graceful. He leaned against the front of his desk, resting his palms on its top beside him. He was dressed as he had been dressed in her vision, hunter green, ribbed sweater with black front pleated pants. The only thing missing was his trench coat. Warren had been watching him too, as had Matthew. Natasha looked at the two officers; she could see that they were looking at him pretty much in the same way she had looked at him. She began to wonder about their sexuality. She concluded that both Warren and Matthew might be gay.

"What can I do for you tonight, officers?" he asked.

This gorgeous man across the room spoke in a voice that matched his exotic beauty. Natasha couldn't tell what country he came from. His voice was low, but there was a hint of an accent when he spoke. It made his voice sexier, more intoxicating. Warren seemed to come out of a trance when he heard Darian speak, they all did.

"I'm Detective Davis and this is Detective Eric and Miss Hemingway," Warren said as he gestured to both Matthew and Natasha.

"I don't know if you're aware of this, I don't see how you wouldn't be, but there have been some murders around town," he said, his eyes darted around the room as if he was trying not to get caught in a spell.

Natasha even wondered if this beautiful man had put a spell on them. She let her gaze roam over him from head to toe. She swallowed the saliva that had pooled in her mouth. Deciding right away that this handsome hunk of a man, had no need to cast such a spell, he was just blessed. He nodded when Warren mentioned the murders, but didn't seem too interested.

"Well," Warren paused and looked around the room, "can we talk privately?" he asked.

Darian smiled slightly, gesturing for John to leave the room. John bowed and left making sure to close the door behind him. Xavier stood in his place, not moving. Warren glanced at Xavier but continued speaking to Darian.

"We have a witness who has seen the murderers, one of which is a vampire. To make a long story short, we need your help. We know that they're going to kill someone tonight. We have to get to them before it happens, but we don't know where to find them. I think you can. Will you help us?" Warren asked.

Natasha watched the man leaning against the desk. His expression was blank, as if he hadn't heard a word Warren had said. Then his eyes darted to Natasha then Matthew, then back to her.

"Are you the witness?" he asked her.

She nodded. It was all she could do because her voice was caught in her throat.

"And you want me to track down this rogue vampire and then do what?" he asked Warren.

Natasha was getting the feeling that he wasn't going to help them. She didn't understand it. In the vision, he was there. He was fighting on their side.

"Well, I have weapons to deal with vampires, but let's face it, if this vampire is old, which I have an inkling that she is, I don't think I have the strength to fight her off and the wolf that's with her. Will you help us deal with them? She's killing people in your territory. This looks bad on you, don't you think?" Warren asked, trying to find a reason that would convince Darian to look into the matter.

Natasha gazed at the other man; this was the Darian from her vision. She was still at a loss for words. She watched as he shrugged his shoulders lazily.

"You're the police squad, the government trained protectors of the human race. This is your problem. If I took care of every supernatural breaking one of those four laws you uphold, the S.U.I.T. wouldn't have anything to do. You wouldn't have anything to brag about. Besides, I do not pay taxes to do your jobs for you," he said sarcastically.

He crossed his muscular arms over his broad chest.

Natasha couldn't believe what she was hearing. Why was he being so obstinate?

"If we don't stop it tonight, there will be more deaths. We need to find them. You're the only one who can help us!" Warren said desperately.

Matthew had his hand on the butt of his gun, just in case things went sour. He didn't know quite what to think of Darian. He watched Warren plead with the master vampire for help, unsure if Natasha's vision was accurate.

"Humans die all of the time, either by their own hands, sickness or old age. What do I care about a handful of mortals who must meet their fate? You'll have to fight crime without me, my young wolf. I see nothing in it of interest to me," Darian said dispassionately.

Natasha saw red flash before her eyes. She could not believe someone could be that heartless. She looked at Xavier, who stood silent. She stepped up to Darian, his forest green gaze lowered to meet the soft green of her eyes. One eyebrow rose slightly, he was curious about her.

"How can you stand there and say that? You would let people die horrible deaths, and for what? You're being petty and stubborn!" she yelled at him.

He fought the urge to smile; he could always appreciate a feisty woman.

"I can resist easily, because I do not care." He chuckled.

"You know what, maybe you don't care but I do! I've seen what happens to these people. I see their deaths in my dreams! I can't just brush it off like some unimportant thing the way you can. I see their suffering and I don't think you'd be all high and mighty if the shoe was on the other foot!"

She could feel her temper rising. She glared at Darian, who didn't seem the least bit concerned and it annoyed her even more.

"People are dying. You can help. Why won't you?" she asked, the tears welling up in her eyes.

She imagined the male victim was being gutted while they argued and it angered her even more. The more she looked at Darian, the less beautiful he was.

"You misunderstand. This has nothing to do with me. I will not come to the aid of the human world as if I were some superhero in tights like your friend over there." He gestured languidly toward Warren.

"It is a shame that your condition will not allow you a moment's peace, but even that doesn't concern me," he said coolly.

Natasha felt an alarm go off in her head, felt her hand rise before she could stop it. Her open palm slapped Darian hard on his left cheek, before she even realized it was her hand that did the smacking. There was a collective gasp in the room. She knew she'd made a mistake, giving a silent prayer. Darian stood up straight, no longer leaning against his desk, arms still crossed over his chest. A look of pure shock was plastered on his face. His eyes wide, lips slightly parted in astonishment. Gaping at Natasha, he watched her slowly back away from him, still he didn't move.

Xavier came to stand beside Natasha. Darian's eyes were still locked on her. A thousand thoughts filled his mind, yet he only settled on one. He had never been slapped by a human in all of his long life. It was a whole new experience. No one had ever thought to lay their hands on him in anger. Suddenly, Natasha intrigued him. He had never seen a mortal with such fire. Such courage to challenge him. He was fascinated, instantly entranced with her. He couldn't take his eyes off of her. He was beginning to see why Xavier had been so smitten with her. Average, but not average, he thought.

Natasha just knew her life was over. She didn't know if Xavier could protect her or not, but she prayed that he could. All she wanted to do now was to crawl inside a box, anything just to get away from Darian's deep gaze.

"Darian?" Xavier queried anxiously.

Darian, who had been staring at Natasha, managed to calm himself down enough to register the sound of Xavier's voice. He slowly turned to look at him.

"Are you through speaking with the officers?" Xavier asked, trying to redirect Darian to another point of interest.

Darian lowered his arms and walked across the room to where Natasha was standing. Warren stepped in front of her, blocking Darian's way as Xavier came to Darian's side. Hand clasped on the master vampire's arm.

"Please don't hurt her, Darian, she didn't mean it," Xavier pleaded.

Darian looked at him and laughed, a cool, smooth sound vibrating throughout the room.

"Oh, she meant it. I don't think she does anything without meaning to."

He stared at Natasha as he walked toward her. Warren drew his gun, aiming it at Darian, who stopped, looked at the gun and then in a movement too fast for anyone in the room to see, the gun was suddenly in his hands and Warren was left confounded, gasping in shock.

"You forget what team you're really playing for, wolf. Don't you ever point your weapon at me again. I have no intention of hurting this beautiful young lady," he said as he handed Warren his gun.

Warren took the gun, slipping it back into place. He was still awestruck as he looked at Darian. He'd never seen any supernatural move that fast before.

"As a matter of fact," Darian added. "I think I will help you in your investigation. Allow me to get my coat." He smiled, walked to the closet in his office and pulled out a long black trench coat.

"Wait a minute! Why do you want to help all of a sudden?" Natasha asked nervously.

Darian looked at her, smiling warmly. "To get closer to you, of course. I'll have you know, you're the first human to have ever slapped me."

He cocked his head to the side.

"Not that I'm in total agreement but perhaps you're right, I was being petty and stubborn."

He pulled his long, jet black, wavy locks from underneath the collar of his coat, letting the waves fall past his shoulders. He smiled at her again, his dimples brightening the smile even more, making him look innocent.

Natasha hadn't even noticed his dimples before, seeing them now made her feel butterflies inside. She adored dimples on a man, although she thought it was rather comical to see this master vampire smiling like a school boy.

"Well whatever gets you to help us is fine with me. We have to go now. I hope we're not too late," Natasha said as she counted her lucky stars that she was still alive.

She made a special mental note to herself. Never hit a vampire. She hoped he didn't have the intention of killing her later, she hoped to God that he didn't. She would make certain to stay close to Warren and Matthew. She looked at Xavier, who seemed to still be perplexed.

"Are you coming?" she asked him.

"No, I have to watch the club. If it's a pestering bloodsucker on the prowl, Darian can handle it, he doesn't need my help."

Xavier smiled. He winked at Natasha, wanting her to feel safe. He didn't think Darian would kill her, he had been intrigued by her, just as he himself was. He watched his Master smile at her, then Darian turned to Xavier, walking over to him. He leaned into Xavier's ear and whispered. Natasha couldn't hear what he said, but she was sure Warren could. She'd have to let curiosity kill the cat and ask Xavier or Warren later what it was that Darian had whispered.

Darian stepped away from Xavier and up to Warren.

"Okay, I've decided to help, so lead the way."

He made a sweeping motion with his hand toward the door. He bowed slightly as Natasha walked past. She still didn't know if she could stop shaking or not, but she knew she wasn't going to let her guard down. She knew running away wouldn't help her, but that didn't mean she wouldn't try. Darian walked gracefully behind them as they headed toward the main entrance. Natasha looked at the long line of people still waiting to get inside and shook her head. She thought it was too cold outside to be standing in such a long line just to party, but that was their decision. She followed Warren and Matthew to the police squad car. Warren opened her door and she climbed in. Darian walked toward the police car, lowering himself to take a peek at the built-in contraption. He smiled and shook his head, chuckling. He straightened up and looked at the two detectives.

"Sorry, gentlemen, but I don't think I'll be riding in your death trap tonight. You lead the way and I'll follow."

He glanced at the attendant, who seemed to know what his boss wanted. The attendant nodded and disappeared around the corner of the building. Darian stood waiting, his hands hidden in the pockets of his formfitting black pants and his long, black coat flapped in the wind behind him. He looked in the direction of oncoming traffic on the street, the wind whipping through his long, luxurious, wavy locks. Natasha almost drooled as she looked at his perfect manly body. She imagined how he would look naked, how his muscles would feel under his skin as she trailed her fingertips over his body. She had to pull herself out of her fantasy. After all, she had just slapped him about fifteen minutes before. She felt she wasn't yet out of the danger zone. Being around all of these gorgeous men wasn't doing her any good either ... but then again.

The detectives had settled into their seats, waiting for Darian so they could get a move on. Warren squirmed impatiently in his seat, eager to get to the scene before anything happened. All of the stumbling blocks were getting to him. The valet brought Darian's car around, climbed out, walked to his boss and handed him the keys. Darian took the keys and glided to the driver's side of the car. The wind played with his hair and coat making him look like an ad for Anisi Cologne for Him. He climbed into his black Pavilion luxury sports car. Natasha loved that car, but she could only afford the half a million dollar set of wheels in her dreams. The car had automatic doors that closed after the driver got in, a state-of-the-art sound system with a three disc CD/DVD player. The leather interior was climate controlled and there could be multiple moon roofs, depending on the type of Pavilion one could afford. This was the car on the most wanted list for the insanely wealthy, nothing else could compare. What could she say? The man had style.

Warren pulled the squad car out and headed in the direction of the abandoned warehouses in Natasha's area. There were a number of warehouses in the vicinity, the search wouldn't be short. Darian followed behind them. For hours, they checked out several buildings in her area and several other urban areas, and were unsuccessful. While heading towards another area, Natasha couldn't help herself and decided to look behind them. She saw Darian steering his car effortlessly. He winked at her. She blushed, turned back around and slouched in her seat. Warren turned to glance at her, frowning

"What's wrong?" he asked

Natasha looked up and realized he was talking to her.

"Oh nothing," she responded.

To divert his interest, she began to describe the warehouse hoping it would narrow the search even more.

"The warehouse was dark gray on the outside. It wasn't tall and it didn't resemble a factory, more like a loft. Like that one right there!" she exclaimed, pointing to a gray building with boarded up windows and doors. There was one window that didn't have boards on it, while one side of the steel gate surrounding the building had been pried apart. Warren pulled the car over and the three of them climbed out. Darian parked behind them, joining them as they stood looking at the building. Warren's nostrils flared and an expression came over his face that indicated something Natasha could only guess was recognition of a scent.

"I smell him here. He's marked territory, as well. They're inside there now," he said as he walked toward the damaged gate, jumping over it easily.

The rest of them walked toward the gate, Darian looked at it, but didn't walk through the jagged opening. Natasha looked up, noticing he was already on the other side of the gate. She looked at Matthew, who shrugged as if to say "your guess is as good as mine". With that, the two of them climbed through the battered opening to stand beside Warren and Darian.

"I can sense another vampire," Darian said.

He closed his eyes, exhaling a deep breath, his shoulders falling slightly.

"This one has a formidable aura. No, I don't think the three of you would have been able to handle this one alone. Very fortunate for you that I'm willing to help," he said condescendingly.

Natasha threw him a disdainful look. Arrogant bastard, she thought. He looked down at her and smiled sweetly, flashing his dimples again. It made the disdain Natasha felt dissipate a little. She didn't know if she liked not being able to hold a grudge against an "obvious asshole", but for some reason it didn't seem to matter.

"You know what, maybe you should stay here," Warren suggested to Natasha.

"Where? In the car?" She shook her head, frighteningly. "Oh no! What if that's what they want? I feel safer with you."

"Are you sure, because it could get dangerous," Matthew said.

"I'm here now, I don't want to be alone," Natasha said, looking at the three men.

Warren nodded.

"Let's go," he said, sprinting off ahead of them to the broken window.

He climbed in and Matthew followed. Darian looked at Natasha and held out his hand.

"Unlike those other two, I'm a gentleman, ladies first," he said smoothly, his voice cutting through her animosity like a hot knife through butter.

She gave him her hand, and he closed his fingers lightly around hers and lifted her gently up to the window. Matthew helped her climb through the open pane. Once she gained her footing, she turned around to help Darian, only to find him standing in front of her. His superhuman speed unnerved Natasha. She remembered he could move faster than she could blink her eye. She wondered if this other vampire they were tracking could move as fast, and if so, would bullets help? The four of them walked slowly through the pitch black room. Natasha trailed behind Matthew as the two of them used a flashlight to navigate around the warehouse. Darian had grown impatient and decided to walk faster. He stopped a few paces in front of them. His eyes scanning the darkness, his nostrils flared and he turned to face Warren.

"I can feel the vampire here, they're close. Keep an eye out. Do you see your wolf?" Darian asked, removing his hands from his pockets. "I can smell human blood. Do you see your wolf? There is a human alive here. I can hear his heart beating,"

"I can smell the wolf and the vampire," Warren said as he turned around in a circle to scan the room, stopping to face Darian.

"Darian, behind you!" he yelled.

Warren watched as the slender figure of the female vampire appeared behind Darian, her clawed hand raised to strike. The hand came down, but Darian was no longer there. He appeared beside the vampire, his own claws extended, he swung, ripping through the flesh on her back. Blood spurted from the wounds as she cried out and rolled away from his follow-up attack.

Warren and Matthew ran toward the female vampire, guns out, but the other murderer, the male wolf pounced on their backs-knocking both of them to the ground. Matthew bellowed an agonizing wail as he fell to the ground, dropping both his gun and the flashlight. Blood from the fresh scratches on his shoulder blade began to soak the back of his shirt. He grimaced in pain as he searched for his gun in the darkness. As he crawled on his knees looking for his weapon as he knew it was close. He felt a stab of pain in his stomach as the wolf's foot kicked him in his abdomen. He slid across the floor on his side, slamming hard into a wall. His ribs ached furiously and he knew they were damaged. Warren came up behind the wolf, forcing his attention away from Matthew. The two began to tussle and Warren was careful to avoid the wolf's claws. The wolf slashed several times before he was able to backhand Warren hard across his jaw, knocking the younger shifter far across the room.

Natasha panicked, her pulse quickened, she could hear her heart beating furiously in her ears. She fell to her knees, hands frantically patting the dusty, grimy, floor searching in the darkness for Matthew's gun. She struggled to see through the darkness as she looked around the room hastily. Finally she saw the glint off the metal flashlight Matthew had dropped when he was attacked. Desperately, she crawled toward the flashlight, picking it up and clicking it on.

Guided by the sounds of the scuffles, and grunting, she aimed it at the others in the room. She saw Darian tossing the female vampire against the wall. The female vampire fell to the ground along with little pieces of plaster and brick from the impact of her body hitting the wall. She began to rise weakly. The female hissed at Darian, continuing to bare her fangs as he pursued her.

Natasha pointed the light along the walls, looking for a door. She remembered Warren and Darian mentioning the scent of the mortal victim. She knew he was still confined in a room somewhere in the warehouse. She heard gunshots ringing from behind her, and prayed that she wouldn't get hit by a stray bullet.

She spotted the door and ran to it. Her hand gripped the knob turning it, but the door wouldn't budge. She turned around to yell to Matthew to help her. As she pointed the light in front of her, she saw firsthand the huge, half-man, half-wolf standing before her. Her eyes froze on the massive, bulging muscles underneath the furry, black skin and the long, sharp teeth that lined the open muzzle.

Her limbs froze, her mouth opened but no sound came out. She wanted to scream, but it remained caught in her throat. His massive chest heaved slowly, a low, menacing growl trickled from his throat. His rancid breath, a sickening mixture of rotting flesh and blood, pelted her face, assailing her nostrils. Her stomach lurched and she fought hard not to lose her dinner. She could see his silver eyes reflecting in the flashlight's glare.

As Natasha began to gather her senses, she screamed just as a huge, clawed hand slashed down. White hot pain flooded her torso as his claws ripped through the flesh of her chest. Blood spurted from the open wound, staining the front of her shirt and covering the wolf's fur.

Warren was coming to when he heard Natasha's scream. He focused his eyesight in the blackness of the room and saw the wolf standing over her. He smelled the spilt blood and knew it was hers. He looked around the floor and spotted a broken, rusty pipe, spiked and jagged at one end. He raced over to the pipe, snatching it off of the floor. Racing up behind the distracted wolf caught up in its bloodlust, he aimed the jagged end of the pipe, and ran the wolf through his back.

The wolf howled in pain, turning to face Warren. His huge, furry arm smacked Warren across the chest, knocking him against the far wall. He slumped to the floor, dazed. The spiked edge punctured the wolf's heart and he fell to the floor. His hands flailed behind him, trying desperately to reach the steel pipe protruding from his back. Blood poured in a puddle beneath him as he fought to remove the pipe. The female vampire screamed as she saw her lover suffering. Darian continued to stalk her, moving forward.

Warren called out to him for help.

"Darian, Natasha needs help, she was attacked!"

Darian turned around. The female vampire took the advantage and scurried away. He walked closer to Natasha, kneeling beside her and took her gently into his arms. His eyes scanned over her injuries, judging the severity. Her flesh was ripped open and blood poured from the open wound, soaking the front of her shirt and jeans. Her skin had turned a pale, ashen color and she shivered. He knew she would die if she didn't get help soon.

Meanwhile, Matthew had located his gun and was now tossing it to Warren, who caught it with one hand. Warren walked back over to the wolf, standing over him. He aimed the barrel at the wolf's heart, and fired off two silver-nitrate bullets. Helpless, the wolf howled in pain, his back arching, and body twitching. A second later, his body slumped back to the floor and he slowly began to revert to his human form. His black fur began to recede under the skin, replaced by human hair. They could hear his bones break and reform themselves into a human skeleton. His size was impressive in both of his physical states. As a wolf, he had been close to nine feet tall on his hind legs. Now lying there, dying in human form, he had been close to seven feet. The wolf lay still, lifeless, the silver in his veins had turned his flesh a pale gray. The protruding veins underneath his skin had turned black, like a little map of connecting roads over his flesh. He was hideous.

The two detectives went back to Darian and Natasha. Warren's eyes narrowed. He had not wanted this sweet and innocent woman to get hurt. He was angry at himself for allowing her to enter the warehouse, knowing the danger that awaited them. If they hadn't needed her to identify the building, he wouldn't have asked her to come.

"You're dying. You've lost too much blood," Darian whispered in her ear.

Natasha felt the tears well up in her eyes, felt them slide down her cheeks. She began to whimper, she didn't want to die.

"What are you going to do to her?" Warren asked.

He supported his injured partner with one hand. Matthew's back had been clawed but the wounds weren't too deep. Warren had checked him over as he monitored Darian and Natasha.

"The only thing I can do," Darian said, looking down into Natasha's eyes.

He caressed her hair, rubbing it back from her face.

"I can give you my blood. It will heal you, that is all. You will not be like me, don't worry, but you need my blood if you want to live."

He didn't have to tell Natasha twice, she was desperate to live. She nodded weakly, moaning in pain. Darian shifted her body to his right arm, supporting her easily as he raised his left wrist to his mouth. He plunged his fangs deep into the soft skin of his wrist and ripped it gently. The blood began to flow freely and he pressed his bleeding wrist to Natasha's mouth. She felt the first drop of the blood on her tongue and fighting the searing pain in her chest, immediately reached for his wrist, holding it to her mouth weakly as she fed.

Darian watched with a close eye as Natasha suckled on his wrist. A low moan escaped his lips as his eyes rolling upward, his lids closing in the moment of rapture. A spasm rippled through his body causing him to moan out loud in pleasure. A few seconds later, he pulled his wrist free from her grasp. His right arm was still supporting her, but his left wrist he hid behind his back, away from Natasha's outstretched fingers.

She wanted desperately to press his wrist to her mouth again. She desired the sensational pleasure of his blood coursing through her limbs. His blood ran its course through her body, ceasing the pain and healing all of her injuries. The scars from old wounds, and the claw marks had disappeared. All that was left was the drying blood that stuck to her clothes. The blood began to congeal on her skin. Darian's eyes focused on the blood, his nostrils flared, taking in the enticing scent, but held himself in check.

"How do you feel now?" he asked, his voice breathless, he was panting, his chest heaving slowly.

Natasha blinked, clearing her vision. She looked into Darian's forest-green eyes; she wanted to swim in his gaze. She couldn't remember seeing this clearly before and it amazed her that she could see the color of his eyes.

"I feel better, thank you. As a matter of fact, I feel better than I ever had. How is that possible?" she asked.

Darian smiled. "I gave you my healing blood. I'll explain further later, right now we need to get out of here."

He rose to his feet with her in his arms. Natasha was beginning to get used to being carried by strong, handsome men.

Warren looked at her and smiled with relief. He had been so worried for Natasha and Matthew; he had neglected rescuing the trapped victim.

"Oh shit! The victim! He's alive. I can smell him in this room." He pointed to the door Natasha had tried to open before.

He sat Matthew down on the ground against the wall and pulled hard on the knob. The door frame splintered as it gave and he was able to open the door. He walked quickly into the dark room, his eyes piercing the darkness, finding the man lying spread-eagled on the metal table. His body was starved, weak and soiled and his wrists and ankles were bound to the four corners. He cried and begged for his life. The room was filled with the acrid stench of human waste, a smell Warren would rather not have been introduced to. He ignored the putrid scent, rushing to the man's aid.

He snapped the metal chains that bound the victim without effort. The man's wrists and ankles were raw, bloody and swollen. Warren lifted the man in his arms and carried him out of the room. He met up with the others. Natasha was still in the arms of Darian, and Matthew had regained his footing, gritting his teeth against the excruciating pain in his back.

The victim Warren was carrying began to cry and pray as he held on weakly to Warren shoulders. "Let's get out of here. He needs to be taken to the hospital. You too, Matt," Warren said as he walked toward the door.

The other three followed. Warren kicked the door down and they walked to their automobiles.

Darian placed Natasha gently in his passenger seat and then he climbed in behind the wheel. He looked at her and smiled warmly.

"I'll take you home. Where do you live?" he asked, his smooth, accented voice sent tingles over her body.

It seemed to make her even giddier than before. She wasn't sure, maybe it was her imagination. She nodded and told him her address. He started the car and drove off. She watched through the window as Warren pulled the squad car out of the lot. He was heading in the opposite direction. She remembered, at that moment, that they were leaving her alone with a powerful master vampire that she had slapped earlier that night. She felt a panic take root deep inside her stomach. She looked at Darian, whose eyes were locked on the road. He felt her looking at him, and he turned to face her.

"You're worried that I'm going to kill you?" he asked, chuckling.

Natasha decided to be honest.

"Yes I am. I don't know why you saved me back there, I'm very grateful, yet I'm still a bit leery. I don't know much about vampires or how you think, but if this were the movies, I'd be dead wouldn't I?" she asked.

Darian threw her a comical glance; his lips parted in a smile, his dimples making him look all the more harmless and friendly and not like the true bloodthirsty predator that he really was.

"The movies?" he asked.

He chuckled again, a deep, rich sound that filled the car and made her skin tingle in all the right places.

"It's hard to tell what a vampire would do in the movies and I'm far too old to try to emulate some mortal's view of my kind. I'm not going to lie to you, when you slapped me earlier this evening, the thought of your immediate death did cross my mind."

He threw her another glance, wanting to catch her reaction. He figured it would be horrified and fearful. He was right. Natasha inched a little closer to the door making Darian laugh outright.

"Don't worry. I told you, you intrigue me. It's very rare when a mortal can hold my interest, but you do. I have no intention of ever harming you, Natasha. In fact, I'd like to get to know you better, perhaps on a more personal level?"

He leaned over, sliding his arm around her shoulders. His other hand navigated the automobile effortlessly as he gazed into her eyes.

"I find you beautiful, courageous and extremely sexy." His fingertips brushed the loose strands of her hair from her eyes. "I am powerfully attracted to you. I want you and I'm pretty sure that you want me as well. We can both have each other."

Natasha smirked as she blushed. "You're pouring the charm on kind of thick, aren't you?"

Darian chuckled as he remembered saying those exact words to Xavier when his lover had first told him about Natasha. Xavier's response had been, "you would, too." And so he was.

"Perhaps I am," he said.

His hand guided the car from lane to lane as he eyes remained locked on Natasha's. It amazed her that he could drive without watching the road. She couldn't help it; she thought that was pretty damn slick.

"I can't, I'm dating someone already," she said softly, wanting to kiss those full, luscious lips of his.

She wanted to feel his tongue inside her and in more places than one. Darian settled back into his seat and continued to drive, finally pulling the car over in front of her apartment. He turned off the engine and shifted in his seat to face her.

"I know about Xavier and you already. I don't mind it at all that you two are together."

"Well, then you know why I can't be with you. Look, I don't want to talk about that. I feel funny inside, and I want to know why," she demanded.

Darian allowed her to change the subject. The sun would be rising soon and he did have to take care of some things before daybreak.

"I've given you my blood. In doing that, I've shared with you some of my power. I want you to know that I do not share my blood indiscriminately. Like I said, I do want you, but I wanted you to live. I could have easily made you my servant. However, I didn't want to form that kind of connection through the blood. We do have a bond. That was unavoidable."

Natasha looked at him, her eyes widening as she began to realize the price she might have to pay for survival.

"What do you mean, by 'bond?'" she asked.

"I mean that we now have a mental connection," he paused, frowning, a slight creasing of his brows, his lips pursed. "I hope you don't crave my blood in the future. It isn't a disappointing prospect, but that can happen."

Natasha interjected, "What the hell do you mean, crave?! Like a crackhead?" she asked nervously.

A perplexed expression flashed across Darian's face at the mention of the phrase, "crackhead". Then he nodded with a chuckle.

"But it's far better a drug than crack. It doesn't always happen, but it could. In the event that you do begin to feel a desire for my blood, let me know. I can help you through it. The good news is that the mental bond we have now will allow me to help you control your visions. What you see and what you don't want to see. As far as you being able to see or read the thoughts inside my head, you won't be able to. Of course ..."

His eyes lingered seductively over her body. He leaned closer to her; she could smell the musk scent of his cologne and it made him even sexier. He delicately caressed her left cheek with his fingertips.

"... Not if I don't want you to," he whispered as he smiled wickedly.

Natasha blushed. She couldn't believe just being close to him, hearing his voice, brought forth this much sexual attraction.

"So let me get this straight ... apart from me possibly becoming a blood addict, I'll have you dancing around in my head, playing with my thoughts?" she asked sarcastically.

"Well, in a manner of speaking, yes. There is always a price for the blood. But it doesn't have to be viewed as a bad thing. As I've said, I will help you every step of the way."

"Yeah, I'm sure you will. Look, it's been a long night and I need to get some rest. Between you and the murderers and all this horror, I just need some peace of mind," Natasha said as she opened the car door and climbed out.

Darian watched her walk to her door. He made sure she was safe inside her apartment building before he pulled off to go home.

***

Warren waited patiently in the hospital emergency waiting room. He had called his precinct and reported the incident, informing them of where to find the body of the shape-shifter he'd killed. His captain seemed pleased that they were making such great progress on the case, but was unnerved to discover that there had been two supernaturals committing these murders. She had informed Warren that he could have any assistance he required to continue his investigation. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, hands resting on his stomach as he watched the morning reruns on the nineteen-inch color TV suspended in the upper far right corner of the room. He looked at his watch, it was 7:42 A.M. He had been at the hospital for almost three hours. He'd have to wait for the male victim to regain consciousness from the medication given to him in order to make a report.

Matthew was still being sewn up and there was still one killer left out there for them to hunt down. Warren sat in the chair, reflecting on his mistakes in the hours before. He should have never let Natasha go into the building. He should have kept a better eye out for Matthew. He wondered if it would have been wiser to change forms. His half-breed form would have been better suited for battling the wolf than his human form. He considered the events of the past several hours then decided what was done was done and should not be repeated.

He rose and walked to the vending machine. Pulling a dollar out of his pocket, he slid it into the automatic slot and pressed the desired button for an apple Danish. He was extremely hungry and tired of eating the vending machine junk food. He had already consumed two Danishes, three bags of potato chips, three chocolate candy bars and three pops. He was still hungry. If Matthew didn't come out of the ER soon, he was going to have to desert him for a few hamburgers. He turned around to walk back to his seat and saw Matthew walking through the white double doors. Matthew looked a bit worse-for-wear but he smiled hazily at his partner.

"You look like shit, how do you feel?" asked Warren.

"Shit, I feel just like I look. I have about sixty stitches in my back and it's sore as hell. My ribs were bruised, but not broken, thank goodness," Matthew said as he shuffled closer to his partner. 'Thanks for the shirt."

"Don't mention it. Your other shirt was rags anyway," Warren said.

He had bought Matthew a "Get Well" shirt from the gift shop at the hospital.

Matthew nodded as he put his coat on slowly, wincing in pain when he had to lift his arm to slide it into the sleeve.

"I can take you home," Warren offered.

Matthew looked at him and shook his head.

"I know that look, Warren. What are you planning?"

"Matt, you're in no condition to go with me."

"Fuck that, I'm you're partner, you might need my help. Whatever it is, I'm not letting you do it alone, so you might as well tell me what's your plan," Matthew said, looking at Warren with a resolve that was impenetrable.

"The female vampire is still out there. Last night Darian didn't get a chance to kill her, he saved Natasha instead. It's day time, I want to see if I can track down her daytime resting place and put an end to her."

Matthew frowned. "That's going to be hard as hell. She's not stupid, I'm sure she's not at the same warehouse. It's going to be impossible to track her down. Nighttime comes faster now... we only have about eight hours to do this. Did you get a chance to talk to our witness in there?"

"Not yet, the nurse said he was still asleep from the pain killers. They had to bandage his wrist and ankles and give him a tetanus shot. But he'll pull through just fine. I figure we'll come back here in a few hours, but right now, I want to search for that blood sucking bitch," Warren said.

Matthew nodded in agreement. And both detectives walked out of the hospital. They walked to their squad car and climbed into their seats; Matthew moving a lot slower than his partner.

"So, what's going to happen to Natasha?" asked Matthew.

"I'm not sure. She was completely healed last night. Then Darian took her home. I trusted him with her, because he saved her life and if he would have done anything to her, I would have killed him even if it cost me my life," Warren said sincerely.

They drove back to the warehouse to look for clues. The warehouse was surrounded by yellow and black police tape. Both of the men knew that the body of the shape-shifter was no longer present. They walked through the door and looked around. It was still dark inside, so Warren went back to the car to retrieve the flashlight for his partner. Matthew pointed the light around the warehouse, looking for any hint of evidence that would help them locate the female vampire or any clue at all as to why they did what they did. Warren walked into the dark room where the male victim had been held and looked around. The room still smelled rancid, but he ignored the scent once again. He found nothing in the room. He came back out and looked at Matthew.

"Find anything?" Warren asked.

"Just a piece of my shirt from last night," Matthew said, pointing the light on a torn piece of bloody fabric from his dark blue t-shirt.

Warren chuckled. "Well, at least it's not a piece of you."

"Oh, you sick bastard," Matthew chuckled. "Look, there's not a damn thing here. Let's get something to eat and head back to the damn hospital."

"I thought you'd never ask. I'm starving. Shit, I spent about twenty dollars in the vending machine alone," Warren complained as they headed back to the squad car.

He drove to the Pancake Cottage, in the Hyde Park area. He enjoyed their food; to him they had the best breakfast in the whole city. They had to wait for five minutes before their number was called. The pretty hostess who led them to their table was wearing a black turtleneck with dark gray knit pants that fit her slender figure perfectly. Warren and Matthew watched her hips sway as she walked in front of them. They appreciated the effort she was putting into seducing them even though neither man was interested. She turned around to direct them to their table. They thanked her and watched her walk away as they sat down in the wooden chairs. The restaurant was crowded and the tables were practically side by side. The hardwood floors were polished and wooden ceiling fans circulated the air in the room.

The hostess had left two menus on the table, one on each side. Opening their menus, they poured over the items, trying to decide on what they wanted to eat. A waitress came by the table a few minutes later. She placed two glasses of water on the table, removed her pen and pad from her apron and poised herself to take their orders.

"What can I get for you two gentlemen?" she cooed.

She loved to flirt and was planning on flirting with them as long as they were there. She had seen them there once before, she knew they were cops but more importantly, they were gorgeous, and big tippers, she wanted to hook herself one or the other. She did take note that they looked a bit worse-for-wear. Must have had a busy night, she thought.

"Well," Matthew started. "I'll have the peach crepes and a large orange juice. Oh, and a side of chicken hash browns."

He closed the menu and handed it to the waitress, who smiled broadly as she took it. Matthew looked at Warren. Warren lifted his head up and smiled at the waitress, causing her to blush.

"I'll take the strawberry crepes, the western omelet, the side of Canadian bacon, and the chicken hash browns. I also want a side of the apple glazed chicken sausage, and with the western omelet, can I have strawberry pancakes instead of regular?" he asked the waitress, whose hand was still busy jotting down his order.

She nodded.

"Good, that's what I want. Oh, and a large coffee and orange juice for me as well."

She finished writing down the order.

"Will that be all, sir? There are still some items left on the menu you didn't mention," she teased.

Matthew laughed outright, hand slapping the table top. Warren pouted playfully.

"Well, now that you mention it," he drawled, the waitress's eyes grew wide, making him laugh. "No, I'm kidding. Nothing else, that's all I want."

She chuckled and walked away to get the order placed.

"Having a good time over there, ya bastard?" Warren glared at his friend playfully.

"Ohh ... I'm sorry ... It's just ... she said what I was thinking," Matthew said, between chortles.

Warren rolled his eyes and snorted. "Shut up."

Matthew laughed harder, tears welling up in his eyes. "OW!" he cried out as he was reminded of the fresh stitches in his back and the soreness of his ribs. He decided then it was a good time to settle down. He didn't want any of the stitches reopening because of excessive laughter. He looked at his partner, who seemed to be in deep thought.

"What are you thinking about? When you get quiet I know you're thinking about something, and it's bothering you."

"Natasha and you. This female vampire knows about us now, she knows that Natasha is human, she knows that you are human. She may try to attack either one of you for revenge. I don't want to find her when it's too late. I can't get it off my mind, I have a bad feeling and I just can't shake it."

"Well, I'm with you and I'm staying with you, it's daylight right now. So we can relax for a minute. Let's call Natasha after breakfast to see if she had any more visions."

Warren nodded. After ten minutes had passed, the waitress brought Matthew his meal. Warren caught himself staring at the creamy peaches that topped and filled the crepes his partner had ordered. His stomach growled as he fought the urge to beg. The act of begging was synonymous with shape-shifters.

Warren frowned. "Why is it that I'm always stuck watching you eat first?"

Matthew opened his mouth to speak.

"Don't answer that," he added.

His partner chuckled and finished pouring peach syrup over his crepes. After two more minutes had passed, Warren's meal arrived. The waitress set several plates in front of him. The delicious aroma of the dishes drifted to his nostrils and made his mouth water. He dug into the meal immediately. The waitress had just set the last plate of strawberry pancakes and syrup on the table. She asked him if he needed anything else and he shook his head. She smiled and walked away. She couldn't wait to finish the gossip she had started in the back with the other waitresses about the two of them.

The two men talked about sports and movies, not wanting to discuss the case over breakfast. In spite of Matthew getting his food two minutes earlier, Warren finished his huge meal two minutes faster. Each plate that was in front of him was now empty. Matthew still wondered where it all went. He knew his friend had a high metabolism, but it was amazing to watch him eat. The waitress brought the bill and both cops looked at it and reached in their pockets to leave a generous tip. They took the bill to the front of the restaurant to pay.

"Don't worry, this one's on me," Matthew said.

"Naw, I got it. You'll have lunch, deal?" Warren asked.

Matthew smiled and nodded.

Warren paid the bill and they left the restaurant, heading for the hospital. They hoped their witness was wide awake and able to answer some questions.

They made it back to the hospital, going directly to the room their witness was in. There was a uniformed S.U.I.T. officer outside of the door. Warren had called the station and requested one when they had brought him in. They flashed their badges and the officer nodded, stepping aside, allowing both detectives to walk in. Warren looked at the patient in the little narrow bed. The white sheets were pulled up to his chest. His eyes were opened but he looked confused, he didn't recognize the two officers. Warren walked to one side of his bed as Matthew leaned on the foot of the bed.

Warren introduced them.

"We're the two detectives who rescued you last night and brought you here. Tell us, do you remember anything about what happened to you? I know this may be difficult, but we need any information that you are able to give us," he said compassionately.

The male survivor looked at both cops; he took a deep breath and nodded.

"My name is William Banner. I work at the Discount Alley on Seventy-Ninth Street. I had to close up three nights ago and that's when they got me. They put a blindfold on me and threw me in the trunk of a car. The trunk smelled terrible, like something had died in there. I remembered thinking that I was going to die. I could hear them laughing from inside the trunk. They were two sick assholes and I hope they burn in hell!" he said venomously.

Warren couldn't blame him for feeling that way.

"Do you remember hearing them say anything? Anything that might lead us to the whereabouts of the female?" Matthew asked.

Warren nodded in agreement. The survivor stared forward, trying to recollect the traumatic experience.

"Yeah, after they were through with me, they said they were going to own this city. They wanted to prove a point to the mortals, they said. They were sick, sick fucks!" he said in a quivering voice.

"Is that everything you can remember?" asked Warren.

"Yeah man, that's everything. Look, I've been through enough already. Thanks for saving me and all, but I don't know much information, it's not like they included me in on their plans. I was a piece of meat to them and I really just want to forget it all. Understand?!" he snapped at the two officers.

Both Warren and Matthew nodded and left the room, closing the door behind them.

"So much for fucking gratitude," Matthew said. "So, there's a chance that this chick might try to do one more kill, if she hasn't fled the city already. Even after that battle with Darian, she might just try to do it to prove to us that we can't stop her."

Warren nodded.

"What we need to do is go back to the station, and look through our database for any murder cases matching ours. I looked some up before, but they weren't exactly like ours. The problem with ours is that the bodies were never found entirely in the same condition. I don't know whether to call them serial killers, or just plain crazy fucking murderers."

"Well, let's get back there and check it out, we might find something."

They headed for the car and climbed in. Warren's cell phone began to ring, the designated emergency ringer letting him know it was a phone call he needed to answer. He pulled the little cell phone from his pocket, flipped it open, putting the handset to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Detective Warren, it's Natasha. I had another vision."

She continued, informing him she'd had another possible murder vision. This time, she knew a little more information.

"I'm listening," Warren said as he drove onto Lake Shore Drive toward downtown.

"She's going to be at a club, but I don't know which one. I didn't see the name of the club, but I could hear the music. She had someone with her and was going to kill him and leave his body in an alley. I saw through your eyes that Darian was with you again but Matthew wasn't. That's all I saw before my alarm went off. It seems every time I have a vision, it's interrupted. I wish I could tell you more."

"No. No, you're doing more than enough. Remember what I said before. We wouldn't have gotten this far if it weren't for you. Natasha, stay home, stay safe, you got me?"

It was more of an order than a request. Natasha didn't argue, after last night she wasn't in any hurry to go dancing with death again.

"You don't have to tell me twice," she joked, but she was serious.

Then a thought came to her.

"Warren, how come I'm not like you?"

"Because you were scratched. The gene can only be transferred through the saliva of a shape-shifter. If you were bitten, it would be a different story." He chuckled.

"What about the other bodily fluids?" she asked inquisitively.

"Semen, blood, breast milk and vaginal secretions cannot carry the gene. Strange, I know. The shape-shifter gene is only spread if the saliva of a shape-shifter directly enters the bloodstream of an unaffected human being, mainly though bite wounds."

"What about kissing?"

"If the unaffected partner doesn't have any open wounds, then he or she will be safe," Warren informed her.

"You really need to brush up on your supernatural studies," he joked.

"Yeah, tell me about it!" she chuckled nervously, but relieved.

"Look, get some rest. If you see anything else, call me but don't leave the house. Not tonight," Warren said adamantly as he pulled the car off the expressway.

"No problem, I didn't want to go out tonight anyway. I'm on my lunch break now. When I get off of work, I'll go straight home. I was going to visit my friend Annette, but I'll just call her. You be careful too, okay?" she entreated.

She really liked Warren and Matthew, she had felt like a part of a team last night, but there was a price she had to pay for that. She now had a clearer understanding of just how dangerous their job was and she wanted them to be safe.

"Don't worry about me. You just be safe. Take care," he said.

He waited for her to say her goodbyes before he hung up. He told his partner what she said.

"So, now we just need to narrow down clubs in the city. Probably some well-known clubs, if she wants to make a name for herself," Matthew said as he pondered the possible location.

"Yeah, we finally have a motive. Not only that, but we have to get Darian to back us up again tonight. It was in her dream. If I don't have him there, there's no telling how the situation can end. I'm strong but I'm young. She was fast ... too fast! When the government created our team and our weapons, I don't think they were completely prepared for the skill of the old ones."

Then he wondered just how old she was. He also wondered just how old Darian was.

"Yeah, I agree. Hey, let's get some different weapons and head out to Darian's club."

They walked into the precinct. Matthew tried very hard not to look wounded as they headed toward the weapons locker. Warren selected a flamethrower just in case of extreme emergency then he pulled out an automatic machine gun and a 9 mm, fully loaded with ultraviolet ammunition. He signed all the weapons out, the desk clerk looked them over and threw both of the detectives an incredulous glance.

"What?" Warren asked defensively.

"Oh, nothing, I was just wondering if you two were taking over a small country, that's all," Officer David Marks said mockingly, pushing his black rimmed glasses back on his nose.

"What country do you know of that is going to let us take over with these little ass weapons?" Warren shot back sarcastically.

David was always a smartass, but then so was Warren. Dismissing them with the wave of his hand, David busied himself with paperwork. Warren took the weapons and walked out of the locker, Matthew trailing behind him.

"Do you think we'll need the flame thrower?" Matthew asked as they loaded the guns into the trunk of the car.

"I don't know, but it's mainly for you. If she gets close to you, let her have it. I'd prefer if you stayed here at the station."

"No, I'm coming with you. We're partners," Matthew stated with finality.

Warren nodded. He decided not to argue, it wouldn't make any difference.

"Okay, good, let's go," Matthew said as he climbed slowly into the passenger seat, wincing with every movement.

He hated that his back had to touch the seat. His partner climbed in beside him.

They headed for Desires Unleashed. When they arrived at the club, the day manager walked up to them.

"What can I do for you two officers?" she asked.

Her long, brown hair was in a thick braid down her back. She was wearing a black satin skirt and white satin blouse. Her black leather boots clacked on the tiled floor. Warren could smell that she was a shape-shifter, a cheetah.

"We're looking for Darian. Know where we could find him?" Warren asked.

The female shifter threw glances between the two men.

"The boss isn't here. And no, I don't know where you can find him. You're welcome to stay here, and wait for him to arrive, though he might not come, he's normally here on weekends. Is there anything else?" she asked politely.

The men looked at each other and shook their heads.

"Okay. Well, if you will excuse me, I have some business to take care of. You can show yourselves to the door," she said as she turned and walked away.

Matthew and Warren headed for the entrance when a female janitor mopping old vomit off of the floor stopped them.

"I can tell you the address ... for a price," she whispered.

Warren looked at his partner then back at the woman. She was wearing a gray workman's jumpsuit with a grey baseball cap.

"What's the price?" he asked.

"Fifty bucks, I tell you the address."

Warren reached in his pocket and pulled out a fifty dollar bill. He held it in front of the woman. Her hand snaked out and took the money.

"It's a three-story mansion on the outskirts of Chicago. His place is in Evanston."

The female gestured for the two cops to come closer, when they did, she whispered the address to them. Warren thanked her for her help and they left the club. They hit the I 90-94 expressway toward Evanston. It was an hour and a half drive. The traffic slowed them down considerably. They finally located the huge three-story mansion.

Matthew whistled.

"Would you look at that? This place is huge, vampires live pretty damn good."

"Not all of them, just old bastards like him. My Alpha lives in a similar shack. That reminds me!"

He looked at his watch. He wanted to call Xander to tell him all that had happened. He noted the time was 2:32 P.M. Time was flying by. He pulled out his cell phone and called his pack leader.

"Hello?" Xander's voice flowed through the telephone.

Warren remembered how that voice had always made him feel safe when he was a frightened little child. There was still some element of security in Xander's voice even now and it made Warren smile.

"Xander, it's me. Last night, I closed in on the wolf. He was huge. I've never seen him before. He's dead, I killed him. He was insane, a pleasure killer. I just thought I should tell you."

"Are you okay? Was anyone bitten?"

"No, two people were scratched, but that's it."

"All right, good. What are you doing now? I can hear stress in your voice."

"I'm vampire hunting. The wolf shared his kills with a female vampire. She got away last night, so now we have to prepare for her. Look Xander, I have to go, I just wanted to bring you up to speed. I'll have to fill you in later on all the details."

"Very well, we will talk later," Xander replied calmly.

Warren hung up the phone and looked at Matthew.

"Don't ask, I'll explain to you later. Now we have to convince Darian to help us again, I don't know if he will. Last night, he helped because of Natasha. Now, I don't know, but let's give it a try," he said as he exited the automobile.

Matthew followed. The two men walked up to the front door and rang the bell. A few seconds later, a beefy, six-foot-four, two-hundred-plus pound African-American male answered the door. He looked at the two officers.

"May I help you?" he asked.

"I'm Detective Warren Davis, and this is my partner, Detective Matthew Eric. We need to speak with Mr. Darian Alexander when he wakes up. We need to ask him some questions. We'll wait on the sofa if necessary. But we're not leaving. We can get a warrant but I'd rather not have to go that far," Warren said confidently, hoping the bluff would be good enough to grant them entry.

The bodyguard scanned both of them, opening the door wider to allow them to step in to the foyer. They walked in and he pointed to a room off the main entrance. Warren walked into the living room. He noted that Darian's style was a lot more modern than his own pack leader's. He settled down on the black leather sofa, the soft cushions were incredibly comfortable, he could feel himself relaxing. He felt he could fall asleep on the sofa, especially considering he hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours. He looked at the black marble coffee table and matching floor. The huge, warm gray marble fireplace was lit and the roaring fire filled the wide open space with heat. It was becoming more relaxing than Warren was comfortable with.

"Wait in here. I'll inform Mr. Alexander when he wakes that you're here. You leave this room and you're going to need more than a warrant," the bodyguard warned.

Warren looked at him.

"Are you threatening us?" he asked, challenging the bodyguard.

"No, just a warning. I don't necessarily have to be the one doing the punishing, though I wouldn't mind."

He left the room, leaving the two cops to ponder the thought.

"Nice help," Matthew joked.

"Tell me about it. Look, we've got about an hour before nightfall. Wake me up, I know this is completely unorthodox but I can't seem to keep my eyes open," Warren said as he struggled to fight the drowsiness.

"Yeah, take a load off." Matthew smiled.

He watched his partner slump on the comfortable leather sofa. Matthew sat back in an armchair, and closed his eyes, thinking about the night before. Then all faded to blackness and he ceased to think at all.

Chapter Eighteen

Darian walked into the room. His human servant had told him of the two officers who had come looking for him. He figured it was the same two cops from the night before. He was right. He leaned against the door frame, watching the two slumbering officers sprawled lazily on his expensive leather living room furniture. He walked over to Warren and tapped him on the shoulder. Warren's gray eyes slowly focused on Darian's. He sat up, shaking off his sleep. He looked at his partner, who was sound asleep in the black chair. He looked at his watch; the time was 5:32 P.M., almost two hours had passed.

"Shit! Matthew! Wake up!" The other man stirred and opened his eyes and he looked at Warren, who had risen from the sofa, anxiously.

"You were supposed to wake me up, not fall out yourself," Warren complained.

Matthew shrugged. "I think we both got the same amount of sleep. What made you think I was more resistant than you? Hell, you know they got me all doped up," he stated groggily.

Warren looked at him clearly annoyed then he shook his head.

"Look, none of that matters now."

He turned to face Darian and had to admit the man was dangerously good looking. He looked into Darian's forest-green eyes and felt a hint of desire, but he decided to get right to the point because lives were at stake.

"The female vampire that escaped last night, Natasha saw that she's going to be at a nightclub tonight. You and I are supposed to be there. Will you help us once more?" he asked the vampire.

Darian sighed. "She's strong, but she's not that old, she's only three centuries and her maker was strong."

He cocked his head, glancing quizzically from Warren to Matthew.

"Let me ask you this, why is it you cannot kill her yourselves? Do you not have the technology?" he asked.

"Yeah we have the technology to deal with really young ones that fuck up, not the more skilled of your kind who have control over their powers. I can't do it alone, I know this. We weren't trained for this, not on this level, will you help us?" he asked once more, suppressing his agitation.

Darian was slightly annoyed with the manner of how he was being sucked into this situation. But he wanted Natasha. She was a beautiful woman, and above all, she intrigued him. He would help if it would get him closer to being in her good favor.

"I will help you but I have not fed. I'm stronger when I feed."

He moved closer to Warren, smiling wickedly.

"You're a shape-shifter, you could take my feeding, and still be strong enough for tonight's battle," he said with a smirk.

Then he turned away from Warren, shrugging his shoulders and continued

"Or ..." he paused, "I could waste time hunting for a mortal who won't mind me feeding from them. But I do not and I repeat, do not drink synthetic blood. So, what's your decision?" Darian asked, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

He always enjoyed the blood of a shifter, it was a delicious delicacy.

"You have to be fucking kidding!"

Warren looked at Darian, his face contorted with disgust and outrage that the vampire would seek this opportunity to take advantage of him. When Darian's expression didn't change, he began to realize that Darian was serious.

"Fine, whatever. We don't need to waste any more time, enough has been wasted as it is."

He shrugged his leather coat off of his wide shoulders and tossed it on the sofa.

"What now?" he asked.

Darian's smile grew broader. "Are you offering?"

"What does it look like? Yes I am. So what do you want me to do?" he growled.

Darian frowned.

"Well, you make me feel like some sort of parasite when you say it that way."

He pointed at Warren. "Remember, you came to me, do not forget that I am doing you a favor," he commented. He lowered his arm.

Warren's face grew sullen, he nodded in agreement.

"You're quite right. It's just that I know there's someone out there who's going to need our help and I want to get there before it's too late. So, what do you want me to do?" he asked, a bit more cooperatively.

Then he waved a hand, indicating the sofa. "Do you want me to lie down on the sofa or continue standing?" He looked questioningly at Darian.

"Oh, I'd prefer if you lie down on the sofa."

Darian's wolfish grin had returned.

"It will be more comfortable for the both of us."

Darian made a languid gesture toward the leather sofa. He watched with a predatory gaze as Warren walked toward the sofa and lay on his back. Warren's eyes focused on his. Matthew had been watching silently from the chair across the room. He dared not say a thing. He felt this was a matter to be handled between the two supernaturals.

Darian walked to the sofa and gazed down at Warren, who watched him from his prone position. Darian placed one leg on either side of Warren. He lowered himself, straddling the shifter. He leaned forward, his hands on both sides of Warren's head, peering deeply into the shifter's gray eyes. Warren fought his own desires as his arousal grew. He wanted to wrap his arms around Darian and press his lips to his, but he remained still.

"Turn your head, give me a view at that delicious vein," Darian teased, smiling sensuously at Warren.

Warren smirked then cocked his head to the side, revealing his carotid artery. Darian's vision grew more focused as he eyed the pulsating vein. He leaned downward, his eyes closing slowly. Warren gasped as Darian's long fangs broke through the flesh of his neck. His hands gripped the sides of the sofa cushions as his breathing began to quicken. He began to relax as an extraordinary pleasure gathered in his limbs, flowing through his body toward the two puncture wounds in his throat. He felt Darian grow hard against his own growing erection. A low moan came from Darian as he continued to feed.

Matthew watched both of the men as they lay on the sofa like lovers. Darian straddling Warren, his face buried in Warren's neck. Matthew could hear the audible suckling noises coming from Darian as well as the breathless pants emanating from Warren. Matthew began to feel an uncomfortable arousal as he witnessed this intimate union. He wanted to leave the room, but he didn't want to leave his partner, or so that's what he told himself. He watched, transfixed as he realized that both of the men were coming to a climactic state. Warren's expression was euphoric as his body twitched and jerked underneath Darian's own trembling form. Matthew's face reddened as he watched Darian rise from the sofa, his expression relaxed, sated. His skin tone was flushed, pinkish. Human. If Matthew hadn't known any better, he would have thought Darian was human.

Matthew looked at Warren, who lay on the sofa, motionless. After a few seconds, Warren seemed to gather his senses and mobility. Matthew couldn't help but wonder what it felt like to be fed on by a vampire, especially one as seemingly powerful as Darian. He had heard that the more powerful—and thus skillful—a vampire was, the more pleasurable their "kiss". He would ask Warren later if the opportunity presented itself.

Darian licked his lips, a slow sensuous tease of his tongue on flesh. His eyes lost their cloudiness and began to focus. It had been a most delightful treat to feed from Warren, not only was he a shape-shifter but a natural born wolf at that. Very delightful indeed. He watched as Warren's body regenerated the blood he lost during the feeding. His gaze moved to linger on Matthew. He thought the other man was very handsome and brave. Not only to surround himself with supernaturals but to hunt them down as well. Darian thought that both of the men had a lot of fortitude.

"Well, I feel like a million dollars." Darian smiled, "are you ready to go?"

"Yeah," Warren said as he slowly sat up on the sofa.

Matthew walked over to him, holding his hand out to him. He looked at Matthew, smiled, then took hold of Matthew's hand and pushed himself off of the sofa, rising to his full height of six-feet, two-inches.

"Okay, let's go," he said, his voice still a little bit shaky.

He could feel a wet stickiness in the crotch of his underwear. He didn't want to make it known, nor did he have time to fret over a clean pair of underwear, and pants. As he pulled his leather coat over his shoulders, he thought about what had just happened. He had never been bitten by a vampire before and hadn't known what to expect. He certainly hadn't expected the indescribable pleasure he'd felt as Darian feasted on him. He knew at that moment, a vampire's life was truly one hedonistic experience after another.

"If I'm going to ride in that car ..." Darian said as he pointed to the black squad car "I'm going to ride in the front with one of you."

He stood by the passenger side of the car looking between Warren and Matthew. The two detectives glanced at each other and nodded. Matthew climbed into the back seat as Warren took to the driver's seat. Darian was satisfied with the arrangement and opened the passenger side door.

"Not very comfortable, is it," Darian commented as he sat on the hard, leather covered seat.

"Good," Warren retorted as he started the engine.

He glanced over at Darian and smirked.

"Put on your seat belt, you know the law!" he said sarcastically.

Darian rolled his eyes, but remained unbuckled. He didn't like restraints, not in any form. Warren pulled the car out of the long, winding driveway and onto the main road. He reached the city's downtown party district and parked on the street. The three men had been silent on the way there, all mentally preparing themselves for the long night's search and pursuit. Darian had emerged from the car first. Matthew and Warren followed, Warren watched as Darian seemed to concentrate his powers.

"What are you doing?" Warren asked.

"I'm trying to locate her using my powers to search out her brain waves," Darian said as he stood on the sidewalk, eyes closed, head tilted upward.

"I didn't know vampires could do that," Matthew said inquisitively, hoping Darian would elaborate.

He received his wish. "Only the old ones can," Darian said distantly. "She is not in this area, perhaps we should try another."

He looked at Warren. "Any ideas?"

"Well, when I spoke with the victim earlier, he said something about the killers wanting to make a point to the mortal world."

He paused to ponder the statement.

"Now that I think about it, I think she might be in the human only district. Which can be dangerous grounds, even for one as strong as you." he said, nodding his head at Darian. "We'll have to play it safe. Come on, let's go."

They walked to the car and climbed in. They headed toward the human only district. It was a section of the city that didn't open its doors to the supernaturals. All of the businesses in that area reserved the right to deny service to vampires and shape-shifters.

Warren called into the precinct, "Hey Billy?"

"Yeah Warren, what's up?" a husky male voice responded over the CB radio.

"I need a list of all the human-owned nightclubs in the city and I need it yesterday!" Warren urged.

"Okay, okay, shit! Give me a minute! All right, I'm in the computer now ... yeah, okay I have the list, you ready?" Billy asked.

"Yeah, I'm ready."

Warren handed Darian a pen and paper to jot down the information. Darian frowned but took the stationary and listened to the addresses.

"Okay, it's four human only clubs in the city and the first one is, The Sunlit Lounge on Ontario. The next one is, The Slayer's Lair, actually, they're all pretty much in the same area. Okay, here's the other two, Obsession and The Hit. Is there anything else that you want?" he asked.

"Nope, that's all. Thanks." Warren ended the connection.

He looked at the list Darian held in his hands.

"So, if we go to that district, will you be able to sense which club she'll be at?" he asked the vampire.

"Yes, if she is there." Darian looked out of the window, exasperated. "There are a number of things I could be doing on this night instead of head hunting with you two."

He looked speculatively at Warren. "There are some things we could do together, actually ..." He turned to face Matthew and smiled.

"The three of us could really enjoy ourselves," he said seductively.

Mutual desire filled the car, making the air thick with lust. Darian eyed Matthew a little longer before turning back in his seat to look at Warren.

"Look, I'd like to thank you for doing this, we really appreciate it," Warren said as he turned the car onto Ontario street.

"I see there's no tempting the two of you when you're on the job."

Darian let out a long breath, "Very well, why don't you pull in over there."

He pointed to a space in front of a clothing store. The three men climbed out of the car. Darian closed his eyes to focus his powers. His eyebrows creased then he slowly opened his eyes.

"She's near."

Darian looked toward the Slayer's Lair nightclub.

"She's there." He pointed at the club.

"How did she get in?" Warren asked, perplexed.

"Yeah, all the entrances are protected by an ultraviolet lighting system. Which isn't controlled by the door bouncers, so they can't be mesmerized into turning it off for a vampire to enter," Matthew said, mystified.

"I believe she is waiting outside for her victim, gentlemen," Darian said as he walked toward the club.

Warren turned to face Matthew.

"Before you put up an argument, listen to me," he said, placing his hands on Matthew's shoulders.

Matthew knew what Warren was going to say and he wanted to protest.

"Warren, I ... I don't want to leave your side, I'm your back up ... your partner," he said.

He felt exhausted, wounded and confused. He was unsure of himself, he didn't feel confident enough in his abilities right now to be an asset to Warren. The painkillers he had taken were making him sluggish and his back and sides were throbbing. His entire body felt stiff and sore, not to mention he was mentally exhausted. But he didn't want to let Warren down.

"You're not letting me down, so don't feel that way," Warren stated, correctly guessing his partner's feelings. "But in the vision that Natasha told me about, you weren't in it. It was only Darian and me. I don't want you to be ..." he paused, taking a deep breath. "You're already injured, tired, and hungry and the list goes on. No, my friend, stay here," Warren said firmly.

Matthew looked defeated. As much as he hated to have to admit it, Warren was right, he wasn't up to fighting the vampire. He didn't know how to explain to Warren that he felt like he'd failed him as a partner the night before. He knew Warren wouldn't want to hear it and would say something to ease his conscience. Matthew nodded sadly, returning to the back seat of the squad car without another word.

Darian watched the two men from a few paces away. He noted Matthew's sad and defeated compliance, concluding that Matthew would stay behind. Warren started walking toward him and Darian waited patiently for him to catch up.

"So tell me, will she know you're coming?" Warren asked.

"Not if I do not want her to, I can shield my aura."

He saw Warren's questioning expression and decided to explain.

"A vampire's aura is a lot like your wolf's howl. It can be used skillfully to gather vampires together or to warn them off."

"Ah, I understand now," Warren said, nodding.

They stood outside of the boisterous nightclub. The big sign with the club's name on it glowed bright green over the door. There was a long line of people waiting to get in, all dressed in brightly colored clothes. The bouncers watched over the door, holding six-inch long silver stamping wands in their hands. They stamped the back of hands of all of the people who entered the club.

Darian wanted to laugh; he found it humorous that these mortals thought wearing brightly colored clothes would repel a vampire. It also amused him how mortals would automatically assume that all vampires would adhere to the stereotype of wearing dark colors at all times. He himself owned plenty of brightly colored clothes. There was only one thing that would keep him out of the club and that was the ultraviolet lighting installed at all the entrances, as well as the interior itself. The closer the two men approached the club, the mental connection that Darian received from the female vampire grew stronger.

"Around the back, let's split up," Darian whispered to Warren urgently.

Warren nodded, and without hesitation, he went in the opposite direction along the side of the club. Darian took the other side to close in on her. As they rounded their corners, both of the men spotted the female vampire. She was wearing a black latex cat suit. The outfit was so tight it looked as though she had painted it on. The latex fabric hugged every curve, leaving nothing to the imagination. She hovered over a man in the back alley of the club, beside a dumpster. Catching the scent of Warren, she looked up, her lips bloody from feeding. She let the unconscious human slip from her slender fingers, smiling wickedly.

"I've been waiting for you, wolf," she said seductively, then turned to face Darian, "and you ... Master."

Warren looked at Darian. He allowed a quick expression of shock to flash across his face before regaining his composure. Darian leaned against the brick wall of the club, his arms folded across his chest. A sinister smile crept across his face and he cocked his head.

"You've disappointed me, Eliana. When I gave you my blood on that fateful night in Italy, I didn't expect you to repay me in this fashion. You have come to my territory unannounced and have caused nothing but trouble." His lips formed the words as if they were a kiss.

"I've paid you back in blood, my dear, Master. How else should a fledgling repay their maker?"

She backed up until she was against the wall, centering herself between the two men. She stood, legs parted, standing her ground. Her arms dangled at her sides, both index fingers tracing circular patterns on her thighs. Warren looked at Darian. This had turned into a matter between Master and fledgling. Warren looked at the female vampire again and felt his anger rise.

"You had no right to kill all of those people because you have a grudge against your maker!" Warren said venomously as he balled his hands into fists.

The female vampire ignored him, keeping her eyes focused on Darian. It angered Warren that she thought him insignificant enough that he should be ignored. He decided right then that he would not attempt to take her in to stand trial. He removed his 9 mm with silencer from his holster and aimed it at her heart. Without hesitation, he fired the first shot. He watched in amazement as she remained standing, unharmed. The bullet was lodged in the brick wall behind her, still smoking with ultraviolet gel oozing from the shell. He fired off two more shots, only to realize that somehow, the vampire had dodged each one.

Her eyes slowly left Darian's to glare at Warren.

"You impudent little fool! Your weapons cannot affect me and how stupid of you to think so. You, who have traded sides, tell me, does it make you feel superior to kill your own kind ... for them?" she growled as she gestured to the unconscious human laying slumped beside her.

"You're not my kind! You're a murderous bitch, the same as any other murderer. There is nothing about you that should warrant my respect!" Warren said coldly, the barrel of his gun still pointed at her.

He removed his custom automatic from his other holster, the one that contained the explosive metal bullets.

"You are stupid and stubborn. I'll kill you slowly. I shall savor your blood before I grind your bones in my hands."

She held her hands palm up, outstretched in front of her. To add emphasis, she slowly curled her hand into a fist, one finger at a time as a sinister smile played across her lips.

"Then maybe I'll feed on your partner," she laughed wickedly.

"You touch him and I'll"

"You'll do what, wolf? You'll do nothing, because that is all you can do, puppet!" she said arrogantly, then turned to face Darian, who had been watching the battle of insults with a certain amusement.

He did have to admit the last two nights had held plenty of spontaneity. It was nights like this that Darian was reminded just how wonderful immortality was. He pushed himself off of the wall and walked toward Eliana. He stood in front of her, his long, black trench coat flapping in the cold breeze behind him. His leather clad hands resting at his side.

"Is this a challenge to me, my darling?" Darian asked pointedly.

"Yes," Eliana responded, mimicking his calm.

"I spared you last night to teach you a lesson. I mentally warned you to cease this behavior."

He sighed deeply.

"It did not have to be this way. If you were cross, you should have come to me, on my terms. We could have worked this out."

He began to remove his leather gloves from his hands, one then the other.

"You still make the most undesirable decisions. It's a pity that this will be the last time we will speak to each other. Tonight, I will end your existence since that is the one choice that you leave me with," he said, his eyes never leaving her intense glare.

"You underestimate me, Darian, you always did. For if you had only given me what I asked, if you had increased my power, I would have been happy and it would not have come to this. You are so selfish. However, I found someone who would share power with me. And this city ..."

She raised her hands and looked around the area.

"... Will be mine, as will your life." She smiled at him.

"The only thing I've underestimated was your lack of common sense. I mean really, Eliana. Just how many clichés are you going to add to this little takeover?"

He gave a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Doesn't matter. There is an easy way to remedy this situation. Now enough posturing, I have matters to tend to before the sun rises," Darian said.

He watched as Eliana's jaw tightened. It was the response he hoped for, anger, fury, all the emotions needed to make a fight worth his while. He looked at Eliana, and smiled. She was the second woman in twenty-four hours to have attacked him, though entertaining; he hoped it wasn't going to be a pattern. He braced himself as Eliana charged him, moving faster than Warren could see, but Darian could see her every move. In a movement quicker than lightening, his hand shot out before him catching Eliana by her throat. His fingers tightened around her slender neck. A guttural growl spat forth from her as she clawed at his hand. Darian braced himself and tossed her body upward, sending her crashing against the brick wall with a bone-crushing impact.

Darian appeared underneath her, catching her in midair, his grip returning to her neck like a vise. Her clawed nails scratched his flesh, drawing blood. Darian's own nails began to extend, razor-sharp, strong and pointed. Then in one quick movement, he ripped her throat, tearing flesh apart. Blood gushed from the torn wounds, spraying Darian's face and shirt. Eliana gaped at Darian, hands instinctively going to her throat, closing over the bloody wounds. Her mouth opened wide, gasping. She was unable to scream as her vocal cords had been shredded. Darian's hand rested at his side, pieces of her flesh clung to his fingernails as drops of blood pooled under his hand.

Warren stood speechless as he watched them fight. He had never seen a fight between two vampires, witnessing the stronger overtake the weaker in such a manner. It amazed him. He had seen fights within his Pack take place, in spite of Xander's strict rules of the household. They had been bloody, vicious and always left both participants wounded, sometimes unto death. But never had he seen a fight where one member was left virtually untouched. He found himself truly astonished by Darian. He watched Eliana choke on her own blood as her body fought to restore itself. She backed away from Darian cautiously, her eyes holding fear and resentment.

Darian began to move forward, like a stalking predator. Then in a movement too fast for Warren to see, even with his superhuman vision, Darian was upon the frightened vampire once again. His fangs buried deeply into the bloody wound, drinking. Warren could see his throat swallow every drop of blood he took. Warren was relieved that they were in the back of the building, away from the public's eye. He would hate to have to explain all that was taking place to the media or his official superiors. He watched Darian pull back from the wound, releasing his hold on her limp body. He looked at Warren, mouth bloody, eyes glazed.

"She is yours to deal with now," Darian said simply.

"Is she dead?" Warren asked.

"No. I do not wish to be involved in this case of yours, not any more than I already am. It's easier for you to end her life." He looked down at her limp body.

"You could even say it would be more humane," he said thoughtfully.

His eyes gradually rose, looking up at Warren. "I'll leave you now."

And with that, he vanished as if he had never been there. Warren stared at the open air where Darian had stood only a second ago. It seemed he would have to learn a lot more about vampires himself if he was going to continue to hunt them down. He gathered himself out of his deep thought and walked over to Eliana's prone body. He looked down into her face. Her dark, wavy locks framed her head like a fan on the cement. Her eyes were half lidded, mouth parted slightly. The wound in her throat was healing still, but dramatically slower than before. Her hands fluttered weakly at her sides, her body turning pale. He placed the barrel of his gun to her head and pulled the trigger.

He watched as a single ultraviolet bullet entered her flesh, embedding itself in the thick skull. Blood oozed thinly from the wound then the flow began to turn thick, black and sticky, like tar. The surface of her skin began to dry, turn brittle and flake away, like ash in the wind. Her eyes paled till they lost all color and then they shriveled inside their sockets. The muscles, bones and sinew had melted away to a thick greasy tar-like substance in the shape of her form on the cement.

Warren felt a chill ripple through his body. He didn't know quite how to feel at this point. He was relieved that it was all over. He looked at the man she had been feeding on when they had come upon her. The man lay in a crumpled heap beside the dumpster, but he was alive. Warren could hear his heartbeat, smell his blood flow. He walked over to the man, checking him over, monitoring his pulse and breathing. He called Matthew to inform him of the situation.

"I called for the ambulance," Matthew said as he walked into the alley.

He stood over Warren's kneeling form.

"Thank you," Warren said, staring forward thoughtfully. "All this was done as a challenge to Darian, it was her plan to throw insult to him and have a thrill at the same time."

"Where's Darian? Don't answer that, it doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is it's all over," Matthew said, patting Warren reassuringly on his shoulder.

They looked up to see the approaching emergency vehicles. The flashing lights flickered over their faces. Two paramedics rushed over to them and immediately began checking over the injured victim. Warren and Matthew answered all of their questions then watched as the paramedics placed the victim in the ambulance and drove away. The two detectives waited for their supervisor to come to the scene for questioning. Forensics continued to gather evidence as the two detectives answered questions from both their captain and the media. When the scene was wrapped up, Warren and Matthew walked shoulder to shoulder to their squad car. The sun was a few short hours away from creeping up over the horizon. Warren looked at the nighttime sky, knowing that the sun would be rising soon. He wondered what life as a vampire must be like to never be able to experience such a vision as dawn or high noon, never be able to feel the sun's rays on their skin. He turned on the engine and drove back to the precinct to wrap up the paperwork and close the case.

Chapter Nineteen

Natasha awoke the next morning with the sun's warming rays shining on her smooth caramel-toned skin. She stretched, flexing both fingers and toes. She gradually looked over on her bedside table glancing at the little black digital alarm clock. The time was 7:05 A.M. She groaned softly, not wanting to get out of bed. She lay there, staring at the ceiling, attempting to think of excuses to avoid going to work. Then, after glancing once more at the clock and seeing five minutes had passed, she forced herself to climb out of the bed before she would be late for work. When she reached the bathroom, she looked at the counter behind the sink, remembering she had taken her medicine to block her visions. She hadn't wanted to see what would happen between Warren, Darian and the female vampire. She wanted to rest easy for the first time in five days. It felt good for a while. She had forgotten just how good a full night's rest felt.

Natasha climbed into the hot shower and soaped her body, enjoying the sensation of the tingling, foaming bubbles of her shower gel. She rinsed off, stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her body as she headed toward her closet. She slid the articles of clothing back and forth along the steel rod, looking for an appropriate ensemble. Even as she looked for clothes, her mind drifted to Darian, and Warren. She knew if she was going to have any peace of mind she would have to talk to Warren. She walked to her bed, sat down on the edge and reached over, picking up her telephone. She dialed the cell phone number Warren had given her and waited for an answer.

A groggy, deep voice came over the phone, "Hello?"

Natasha didn't recognize the voice and checked the little green digital screen on her phone that allowed one to view the numbers dialed as well as caller ID. It was the right number.

"Hello, um, is this Detective Warren Davis?" she asked.

"No, he's asleep right now. Do you want me to wake him? Is it an emergency?" asked the voice.

Natasha wondered what he looked like. She enjoyed talking to people with sexy voices. She also derived a little guilty pleasure imagining the physical appearance of a person over the telephone whose voice was appealing.

"Um, I really hate to wake him. I can imagine how exhausted he must be, but I really do need to ask him something. Do you mind?" she asked politely.

"Not at all, one minute," said the voice pleasantly, Natasha listened as the voice called to Warren to wake up and answer his phone.

She could hear Warren groan loudly, but after a few seconds she heard his voice.

"Hello?" Warren asked groggily.

Natasha giggled, thinking his sleepy voice was a far cry from his sexy awake and alert voice.

"Warren, this is Natasha. I'm really sorry to bother you ... I know how tired you must be. I just wanted to know what happened last night?" she asked steadily.

There was a long pause over the phone and Natasha was beginning to suspect that Warren had drifted back to sleep. But then he answered her.

"First off, I want to thank you once again for everything you've done for us, Natasha. I really mean that with all my heart," Warren said empathetically. "I can't imagine what you've had to see just to tell us what was happening, and we couldn't have wrapped up this case without you."

Natasha felt herself blushing, tears welling up in her eyes. She had always been the sensitive type, a sentimental commercial for Mother's Day would often set her to crying. Warren's kind words were hitting home with Natasha and she had to reach over to her bedside table for a tissue to blow her nose and wipe her eyes.

"Oh, Warren ... I ... I don't know what to say. I'm just glad I could help. But more importantly, what happened last night? Are you okay? Is Darian all right?" she asked, concerned.

"Well, I went to Darian's home to ask him to help us," he paused, remembering the events of the night before.

"Did he help? Or did he give you shit?" Natasha asked, annoyed.

"No, actually he was a hell of a lot more pleasant than the first time we asked for his help. He was willing to do it," Warren said, reflecting on Darian's obliging attitude.

He did wonder why Darian hadn't refused as he had before.

"Oh, okay. What else," Natasha asked, obviously surprised to hear how compliant Darian had been.

She didn't know Darian well, but her first impression of him left her uncertain about his true intentions and personality.

"Well, we tracked her to the human-only district. She was in the alley of the Slayer's Lair nightclub. She had taken a victim and was feeding on him when Darian and I interrupted her. It turns out that she was Darian's fledgling and wanted revenge," Warren said thoughtfully.

"You're kidding me, right? She and that werewolf murdered all of those people just for her bitter revenge against Darian?!" Natasha was furious.

She didn't like the fact that people died for selfish, hateful revenge.

"Yeah, I know just how you feel. Darian seemed a bit ... well, I don't know. He just seemed a little sad after he left her for me to deal with," Warren said as he remembered the expression on Darian's face and his manner as he looked down at his own dying fledgling.

"Sad? So he fought with her and almost killed her?" she asked.

"Yeah and it was an amazing battle, I've never seen anyone move as fast as he does," Warren said, still amazed.

"I can only imagine. All of this is new to me and it's going to take some getting used to. Okay, I'm going to let you go, I just wanted to know how things went last night. I wanted to make sure both of you were all right," Natasha said, finding a successful way to end the conversation.

"Yeah, we're all right. I'll be keeping in contact with you. Take care, Natasha," Warren said.

"You, too," she replied and hung up the phone.

She thought about what Warren had said about Darian. She couldn't figure Darian out, she found him to be arrogant, yet charming. Natasha looked at her little digital clock again, ten minutes had passed since she first phoned Warren. If she didn't get ready fast, she would be late for work. She walked back to her closet, picking a simple, black tapered pantsuit. She located her black suede, two-inch heels and tied her long dark brown hair into a tight ponytail. Natasha gave herself a look over.

"Well, it's not elegant, but it will do," she said to herself, satisfied with her attire.

She grabbed her purse, coat and keys and left the apartment.

Her day at work was tiring, but not boring. She was still in the new employee training phase and needed to learn the ropes. There was a reporter working on a story about a school on the north side which was under investigation for violating the sanitation guidelines. Students had reported seeing rat droppings in their food, as well as in their classrooms. Natasha had to accompany the reporter to take photographs of the condition of the school. It had angered her that a school would be in that condition. She felt sorry for the children who had to attend that school. She hoped the reporter's efforts to expose the school wouldn't be in vain.

After work, she went to the hospital to bring Annette home. Annette had been quite a popular patient. When Natasha walked into Annette's hospital room, there were two male nurses with her, both of the men wrapped up in Annette's feminine wiles. One fluffed her pillow while the other joked with her. Natasha shook her head as she leaned against the door frame.

"All right, Queen Annette, time to go," Natasha said.

The two male nurses smiled and left the room. Natasha turned to watch both of the men as they walked past her, glancing lustfully at their buttocks.

"Well, I'm ready to go!" Annette said enthusiastically.

"You sure? I mean it looked like you were having fun. Don't let me interrupt you," Natasha said sarcastically.

"Girl, please. I had to persuade someone to bring me some real food. I couldn't deal with hospital food three times a day. I had to have some food that wouldn't make me sick," she said, eyebrows raised for emphasis.

"Okay, let's go. You know how I feel about hospitals," Natasha said.

Annette looked at her.

"Come here, what happened to you?" she asked as she noted Natasha's blemish free skin.

"Oh, long story and I'll tell you when we get home, okay? Come on! I'm tired, I want to go home. Plus the cab's waiting," she urged Annette.

Annette agreed to wait until they got home to ask more questions. She climbed out of her hospital bed slowly, with Natasha's aid. Annette was already dressed in a pair of blue jeans and blue knitted sweater. Natasha helped her put on her sneakers.

"Okay, we're outta here!" Annette exclaimed.

Both of the women walked out of the hospital. The stars shined brightly in the indigo blue colored nighttime sky. The winter air was cold and both of the women had to close their coats to keep warm. They climbed into the waiting yellow and black taxi cab. As they settled into the cab, they looked at each other knowingly.

"Remember what happened the last time we took a cab together. I don't know which one of us is bad luck, you ... or me," Annette said, jokingly.

"Oh stop that. Neither one ... goofy-ass woman," Natasha said as she chortled.

It amazed her how Annette always had an optimistic approach to life. Natasha gave the cab driver their address and within thirty minutes they were in front of their apartment building. Natasha paid the driver, then she and Annette went inside.

"Well, at least it's still clean. I figured you'd go insane, throwing all sorts of parties without me here to monitor you," Annette teased.

"Oh, shut up. I liked it better when you were at the hospital. Everything was peaceful," Natasha said playfully.

"Girl please, you know you missed me," Annette said as she hugged Natasha with her good arm.

Natasha smiled and nodded.

"You know I did. You know ..." Natasha said as she looked at a corner in the living room, "We should get a Christmas tree before it's too late."

She went into the kitchen to make dinner. She opened the refrigerator just as the doorbell rang.

"Annette, can you get that?" she called.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get it," Annette said as she walked to the door.

She peeked through the peephole, and gasped.

"It's Darian Alexander, my boss!" she squealed as a multitude of thoughts came rushing through her mind as to why he would be there. He hadn't come to the hospital to see her. Not to mention, they hadn't rescheduled their "date". She hoped he wasn't looking to get lucky tonight.

She calmed herself and opened the door, smiling warmly as Darian stood in front her. Giving him the once-over, she saw that he wore a long, black trench coat brushing his ankles. His light gray, ribbed sweater and smoke gray, knit pants fit as if tailor-made. His black leather shoes were shined perfectly. He held a floral bouquet in each hand. He smiled that charming smile, revealing dimples on both sides of his cheeks. His long, jet black, wavy hair was combed back and tied in a ponytail.

"May I come in?" he asked, traces of his Greek accent laced the words.

His voice made Annette's legs tremble slightly. She nodded, still smiling. Darian walked gracefully into the modest living room. He looked around, smiling. He turned to face Annette, handing a bouquet of purple lilies to her.

"For you, my dear. I am sorry I was unable to visit you while you recuperated in the hospital. My most sincere apologies," he said with his customary charm.

Annette blushed and took the flowers. She held them under her nose and inhaled deeply. She looked up, smiling warmly at Darian.

"These are beautiful, I love them. Thank you," she said coyly.

"You are most welcome." Darian, the debonair gentleman, looked around the apartment before turning his gaze toward the kitchen. "Is Natasha in there? Do you mind if I give her these?" he asked.

Annette looked at him, confused.

"How do you know Natasha?" she asked guardedly.

"We became acquainted two nights ago. With her assistance and my own, we aided the police in their investigation of the serial killings of the past week," he said matter-of-factly.

"May I ..."

He raised the flowers to his nose and inhaled seductively, eyes focusing on Annette's.

"...Give these to her?" he asked once again.

Annette looked at Darian and nodded. He smiled and walked into the kitchen. He saw Natasha standing by the stove, stirring a pot of pasta.

"Annette, who was that at the door?" Natasha asked.

She had become concerned when she'd heard Annette talking to someone.

"It is I," said Darian smoothly.

Natasha turned around, surprised.

"I wanted to speak with you and to bring you these ... although, they can't begin to convey my feelings for you."

He extended the bouquet of red roses towards Natasha.

She took the flowers and smelled them. She smiled warmly.

"Thank you. I heard what you did last night and I want to thank you for helping us, you didn't have to," she said, feeling herself blush.

"I helped your police friends because I'm interested in you. It has been a long time since I've met a woman like you. You intrigue me, your gift ..."

He raised his hand now, to caress the left side of Natasha face. He brushed the back of his fingertips lightly over her soft skin.

"You have an extraordinary gift. I want to help you control it, master it," he said in a hushed, seductive voice.

"I ... I don't know what to say. I know I must sound like a broken record right about now, but fact is, all of this is new to me. I'm still trying to get used to the fact that you're a vampire, Xavier's a vampire, Warren's a werewolf and well, it's going to take me some time to adjust." Natasha turned, placing the flowers on the counter and took the spatula to stir the pasta.

She opened a can of meat sauce and poured the contents into a separate pot. Darian watched her prepare the meal with a keen fascination. Natasha looked over her shoulder, catching him trying to peek over her at the pots on the stove.

"What?" she asked perplexed. His eyes moved from the pots to hers.

"It's been a long time since I've seen anyone prepare a meal," he said honestly.

"It's been a long time for a lot of things for you, hasn't it? Perhaps you should get out more," she suggested.

Darian laughed, his dimples giving his features a boyish charm.

"So it seems. Why don't you show me all that I've been missing," he said softly.

He stepped closer to Natasha, pressing his chest against her back. Natasha felt alarms go off in her head. She was powerfully attracted to Darian, as well as Xavier and she didn't know how she felt about Darian's advances. She knew she was overwhelmed at the moment.

"Darian listen, you are handsome, I'm sure you're aware of that. But I'm with Xavier ... well, Xavier and I are talking, getting to know one another. It wouldn't be right if I started something with you. Not to mention it might be too overwhelming," she said, stepping away from Darian.

His gaze still locked on her as he reached over taking her hand into his. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips in a gentle kiss on the back of her hand.

"Xavier hasn't told you, has he?" he asked, looking up at her.

"Told me what?" Natasha asked.

She didn't like the implications of Darian's question. What was it that Xavier hadn't told her?

"Natasha ..." Darian started, but the doorbell interrupted him.

He glanced over his shoulder when he heard Annette open the door. He recognized the voice of the male who was charming Annette.

"Well, it looks as though Xavier will tell you firsthand what he decided to keep from you," he said.

Darian turned off the pots on the stove, then led her into the living room. Xavier stood in the middle of the room, fashionably dressed. He was wearing a long, calf length, black leather trench coat. His brown hair was cropped short and was neatly combed back, parted on the side. He wore brown silk slacks and a cream cashmere turtleneck sweater. He was breathtaking. He turned, his eyes sparkling when he saw Natasha. Xavier's gaze fixed on Darian and a hint of lust and love spread across his face.

"Hello, Natasha," Xavier greeted as he walked toward her.

He took her hand into his, performing the same action that Darian had, gently kissing the back of her hand.

"You're looking gorgeous this evening."

He straightened up and smiled at Darian. It was as if the two vampires were sharing a secret joke. Natasha didn't like it.

"Annette, can you give us a few minutes?" she asked, as she looked at the two beautiful vampires standing in front of her.

"Sure. I'll just finish dinner," Annette said.

She had wanted an excuse to leave the room anyway. She could feel the tension in the air. But she also wanted to stay, curious to know what was going on. She would have to ask Natasha later for all of the juicy details. She walked past Darian, into the kitchen to finish preparing the dinner. Natasha looked at the two men, arms folded across her chest.

"Okay, Xavier, what is it that you need to tell me?" she asked sternly.

Xavier threw a glance at Darian, who shrugged one shoulder. He turned to face Natasha.

"I was going to tell you, we just haven't had a whole lot of time to be alone to talk. That's why I came over tonight." He looked at Darian.

"I wasn't expecting to find you here."

"And I wasn't expecting to be interrupted by you once again. This is a pattern you're going to have to put an end to," Darian said playfully.

Natasha glared at both of the men.

"Okay, so spill it, what is it?!" she asked, losing her patience.

Xavier's eyes turned back to her. He sat down on the sofa gracefully. Darian followed suit, sitting next to him, their shoulders touching. Natasha looked at both of them, sitting side by side, feeling herself blush. They were both so beautiful to her, she didn't want to have to choose but she was more interested in this secret the two of them seemed to share.

"Natasha, Darian and I are lovers," Xavier said suddenly.

Her eyes bulged as she stared at them.

"We've been lovers for over 70 years. I don't know how you feel about that. But I'd like to find out what you're thinking." he asked, determined and hopeful.

"Think about it this way, you won't have to choose after all," Darian said, reading her mind.

Natasha frowned. She didn't like being violated in any way.

"Look you." She pointed to Darian. "Stay out of my mind, don't read my thoughts unless I want you to. Got that?!" she said, putting her foot down.

"Ohh, though she be little, she is fierce," Darian said with a wolfish grin.

"You haven't seen fierce! I don't like you reading my thoughts. You said you were going to help me, and that's fine, but that's as far as it goes," Natasha said commandingly.

Darian nodded. "As you wish."

He rose from the sofa to stand next to her.

"Really Natasha, I am quite fond of you, as is Xavier. Before you decide anything ..."

In a movement too fast for her to see, she found herself in Darian's arms. His lips pressed to hers, his tongue exploring her mouth. She felt her knees grow weak. She wondered how many years he'd had to perfect his techniques. She felt her body respond to Darian's advances and blushed as he released her. She opened her eyes, only to find that Xavier was taking Darian's place. He pressed his lips to hers, mimicking Darian's kiss. Natasha had never been kissed the way Darian had and Xavier still was kissing her. She had never known a man who could weaken her knees with such simple intimacy, much less two of them. Xavier released her, sitting her down on the chair. Both of the men looked down at her. After a few seconds, she regained her composure.

"I think both of you should leave," she said steadily.

The two men glanced at each other.

"Remember, I am here if you need me, my darling. I will be keeping in contact with you," Darian said as he bowed.

He turned and left the apartment.

Xavier watched him go. He turned back to face Natasha.

"I didn't want you to learn everything like this. But I suppose there's no better way to reveal such a thing," he said solemnly. "I love Darian very much, we are in, what you may call, an open relationship."

He knelt down in front of her, keeping his gaze locked on hers.

"I know this is all alien to you and thoughts are running through your head right now. I do want to say this before I leave." He took her hands into his. "I want you to be with us. Before you protest, think about the advantages of what we offer. I'm completely enamored with you and Darian's bewitched. Besides, once he sets his sights on something, he goes after it, not taking 'no' for an answer. Just think about it," he urged, releasing her hands. He rose to his full height and left her apartment.

Annette emerged from the kitchen, carrying a hot bowl of spaghetti. She looked at Natasha and frowned. She didn't like it when her friend looked so bewildered. She sat on the couch, resting the bowl on the armrest. She folded her legs on the sofa, getting comfortable.

"Wanna tell me what's going on?" Annette asked Natasha.

Natasha looked at her friend and sighed heavily. She felt like she had been holding her breath the whole time.

"Xavier and Darian are lovers," she said.

Annette smiled. "I suspected as much ... go on."

"And you didn't tell me?!"

"I said I suspected, meaning I wasn't sure ... now finish telling me the juicy details."

"Fine. They want me to join them," Natasha stated flatly, uncertain and still in shock.

"A threesome? Wow, that's really kinky. In a way, it's like having your own harem or something like it," Annette said.

She was beginning to like the idea. Natasha looked at her.

"You're corrupt, you know that," she said blatantly.

Annette pressed her good hand to her heart, mockingly.

"Why I'm appalled! Here you have two of the most gorgeous men walking the earth drooling over you and you accuse me of being corrupt just because I can see the potential."

"Annette, I don't think so. I mean, yeah, they're gorgeous and mysterious. Xavier's really funny and laid back. Darian's charming and sexy ... well, they're both insanely sexy. But Darian has something that's dark and intriguing about him. I feel like I'm drawn to it. I don't know ... maybe because I've drunk his blood."

"Wait, hold up! You drank his blood? When did this happen?!" Annette asked, shocked.

She wanted to know all the details.

"Well, two nights ago, I helped the police track down one of the killers I told you about. Well, I was injured."

She proceeded to tell Annette everything about the werewolf attacking them, almost killing her and how Darian gave her his blood to save her life. Annette listened to her with wide eyes. To Annette, it was as if she were hearing a recount of a movie.

"So, can you do any vampire type stuff? What did it taste like?" Annette asked curiously.

"It ... Well ... There's no way for me to tell you this without blushing, so here goes."

She took a deep breath, and let it out.

"It was amazing! It was like sex, only a thousand times better. It was also like the world's most healing medicine. I could feel my body healing as I drank it. But it is something I want to avoid in the future," she said seriously.

"Why?" Annette asked. "Anything that good needs to be bottled and sold retail!" she joked.

"Well, Darian told me it was addictive and I just don't want to turn into a blood junkie or whatever you call those people who hang out in vampire bars looking for a hit," Natasha said, shaking her head.

"Yeah, I understand you. I guess I wouldn't want to be addicted to that either. But then when you think about it, being addicted to Darian might not be so bad," Annette said cheerfully.

"If you say so. I don't know about all that," Natasha said doubtfully as she turned on the television.

They watched the news at nine. Natasha smiled when she saw Warren's face on the news. Natasha informed Annette that he and his partner were the two detectives she had helped. Annette told her how proud she was of her. After finishing dinner, both of the women went to their respective bedrooms. Natasha decided to pass on taking her pill this night, just in case someone needed help. She climbed into bed then laid there looking at the ceiling while she thought about the two vampires. Could she be in that kind of relationship? Would she like it? She felt the sleep blanket her as she closed her eyes, and drifted off.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

D. N. Simmons lives in Chicago IL., with a rambunctious German Shepherd that's too big for his own good and mischievous kitten that she affectionately calls "Itty-bitty". Her hobbies include rollerblading, shooting pool, bowling, reading, watching television and going to the movies. She has been nominated at Love Romances and More, winning honorable mention for best paranormal book of 2006. She has won "Author of the Month" at Warrior of Words. She was voted "New Voice of Today" at Romance Reviews and "Rising Star" at Love Romance and More.

To learn more, and have the opportunity to speak with the author personally, please visit the official website and forum at www.dnsimmons.com . D.N. is always interesting in meeting new and wonderful people.

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